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t-a-a-1 · 10 days ago

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Counting Stars

Pt.2: The Wait

TFP Optimus x Female Reader

Summary: After revealing to Optimus that you are carrying his sparkling, he convinces you to stay under the Autobot care. However, after the sudden appearance of an old lover of yours, Optimus faces difficult challenges as he tries to win you back and learn how to prepare to be a father at the same time.

A/N: Lots of yearning, jealousy, delusions, craving, fluff. All that good stuff.

Counting Stars

Pt.2: The Wait

There is a clear difference between carrying a sparkling and dying.

You weren’t sure which one you were doing.

Everyone was treating you like you were about to perish. Everyone has always been careful around you. But now they are extremely aware of you. Every step you take, breath, look, smell, nothing was too insignificant.

“You shouldn’t be carrying that.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t eat that.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t go there.”

The autobots treated you like a doll. Although the thought sounds amusing, it really wasn’t.

“I just want to go for a drive. I’ve been inside for two weeks. I need to get out.”

Bulkhead moves his helm from side to side. He was the third bot you asked about going out.

“What if we crash and you get hurt?”

You knew he was making up an excuse to not take you for a drive. Because what kind of Autobot would be such a bad driver?

“I am a human! I need the sun and see pretty things or I’ll get depressed and die!”

“Can you just watch the sun and pretty things on TV?”

Crossing your hands in front of your chest, you huff, showing your clear satisfaction.

“I am sorry (Y/N) but you are carrying the only sparkling Cybertron has seen since millennials. If you weren’t having our species’s only hope, I would be more lenient.”

Bulkhead’s voice sounds apologetic. You know that he was telling the truth. Maybe they all missed hanging out with you but couldn’t do much due to current circumstances.

“I am being serious. I need to go out.” you say looking at the bot. “I’ll seriously die.”

You were exaggerating but you didn’t know until how much you could last without going crazy.

“Well, maybe we can wait until Optimus is back and hear what he thinks.” Arcee steps in, trying to see if she could alleviate the situation. “You know, so no one wants to get in trouble.”

“Prime isn’t even around.”

A simple talk couldn’t fix everything. Although you and Optimus were in speaking terms, you wouldn’t say that things were the way they used to be. Things were still awkward and tense between the two of you.

“You need to understand him, he is also going through biological needs not seen eons ago,” Ratchet speaks up while still typing on his large computer. “He is nesting for you and the sparkling, he can’t control it and he is trusting us to keep you safe while he is away.”

“Oh so you care about his biological needs but not about mine? I see how it is.”

“It’s not that, it's just–”

Ratchet turns to look at you.

“Alright, maybe you are right.”

The medic-bot notices the color of your skin. It’s pale. Not in a natural way but in a sick-manner. Your belly has grown and you look tired. Mentally, you must be going through a lot. The weight of the survival of an entire civilization is on your shoulders and you are yet to know if the sparkling will be born healthy.

“Only for 30 minutes.”

Optimus was able to satisfy his biological needs only after he found ten dandelions. It was extremely hard to bring them to base since they were delicate and were easy for its tiny petals to crumble. He had found several but would have to go back and look for more since most would lose their petals on the way.

He also found some pretty rocks. He wasn’t sure which one you would like most so he brought all of them.

“So you are here to stay with (Y/N) for the rest of the pregnancy?”

His olfactory sensors picked a familiar smell. A human one but it was none of the kids. It was a scent he wasn’t fond of. One he very much wished did not exist.

“Yes, as a Special Agent, I was assigned this duty. Which I am glad for, I want to spend time with (Y/N) as much as possible.”

Special Agent Alex. Fowler’s Co-worker and your childhood best friend.

Optimus’ sensors were on alert. All of his instincts warned him.

“Potential male threat detected. Human male may potentially steal sparkling and partner. Action Required: Keep human male away from mate.”

“May I inquire about your reasoning behind your sudden … presence without invitation?”

He didn’t waste any time as he walked towards the center of the hangar. His tall demeanor did not seem to phase the secret agent.

“Hey, Prime! Sorry for not announcing it before,” Alex waved knowing that he would get more of a reaction out of Optimus if he pretended that his hostility does not affect him. “But I am just doing my duty. (Y/N) was originally supposed to be transported to a secured area under my watch. But since that didn’t happen, I’ll be staying here.”

“(Y/N) is currently protected by five Autobots at all times. She’s safe here and does not need your guarding.”

“That may be right but (Y/N)’s child is a matter of national security. I can’t let the Autobots have complete control over humanity’s first human-alien hybrid child.”

Optimus closes his servo, fighting the urge to smash the human like a mosquito.

“My sparkling is no human experiment.”

“I am not saying it was,” Alex looks directly at Optimus’ optics. Unafraid. “What I am saying is that the child would benefit from having all the resources this world can offer. That child, no matter what it may be or look like, would be more human than Cybertronian. It will grow here. Learn our languages, history, traditions and culture.”

Alex smirks, about to deliver the final hit.

“It’s not like there’s much to learn from Cybertron after all,” he says. “I may raise that child myself.”

Everyone could hear Optimus’ gun engine turn on, about to point directly at the agent.

Until you showed up.

“Alex?”

He immediately put away his weapon, pretending that he wasn’t about to harm a certain individual. He couldn’t do it, not after seeing the smile on your face.

Not after you jumped into his arms, hugging him as he spinned you around.

“Alert. Action Required: Eliminate threat. Keep human male away from mate. Alert.”

His processor telling him commands wasn’t helping the feelings in his spark.

“You have always been beautiful but pregnancy suits you so well. It’s going to make my stay here all the more pleasant.”

Alex has always been a flirt. But you never took it seriously. At least not now. You used to love the compliments during the time of your relationship. Years ago.

“Are you staying here?”

You ask excitedly, in a desperate need of a friend your age. A human friend who would understand your need to get coffee and see the sunsets.

“Yes, you won’t have to be lonely anymore,” Alex puts a hand on your head, giving you a soft head pat. An act Optimus was never able to do casually. Putting hands on you without consent in any way did not fit right with him. “I’ll stay as long as you have me.”

“Yes! You can stay in my room!”

You seem to enjoy the affection. The agent gave you a certain warmness Optimus couldn’t give you and his processor is starting to write codes unfamiliar to him.

“I am highly against that–”

“Alright, I’ll put my things in there,” Alex’s voice was louder than Optimus’ as he was closer to you. You were too excited to pay attention to the rising anger of the bot. “But tell me, where were you? I was waiting for you and got kinda worried.”

“I’ve been inside here for two weeks and Ratchet took me for a quick drive.”

“For two weeks? That’s not healthy for you and the baby, you need to stay active and get enough sunlight.”

“That’s what I told them but they wouldn’t listen to me.”

Everyone around you noticed your evident happiness that they didn’t mind the comment. You were right, they weren’t taking your needs into consideration. It was even more evident by the sudden change of your mood.

“Well, from now on I’ll be taking care of you,” Alex moves his hand to caress your cheek. “And I’ll take you on regular drives and trips.”

“Do not touch my sparkmate–”

“Also I brought you a gift!”

He looks down at his backpack as Optimus’ voice subsides. Opening it quickly and showing the content inside it.

“My favorite chocolate!” you take the pink box from his hands. It was an expensive brand and hard to find. Not available anywhere in the city. “Thank you!

Optimus quickly thinks of the things he got you. Dandelions, flowers, rocks. Would you love them just as much? Will you jump in excitement and hug him? Will you see him as fit enough to be your provider, protector and Sparkmate?

“Analysis Complete: Human Male wishes to bond with Sparkmate and steal Sparkling. Activating Sparkmate Protection Codes. Eliminate offering. Keep Sparkmate secluded.”

It’s like he couldn’t control himself. It was fear, confusion and jealousy that overtook his processor.

Without any announcement, Optimus walks towards you and takes the chocolate box using two of his digits. You watch him with amusement, not understanding his actions. And without any previous warning, he crushes the box.

The Autobots don’t say a word, flabbergasted at their leader’s actions.

“I- I am–”

Optimus wanted to apologize but he was so surprised by his own doing that no words left his dermas.

The room is silent for a few seconds until sobbing is heard coming from you. Normally, you wouldn’t cry but your hormones have been acting differently, making you more emotionally sensitive.

You run to your room, Alex quickly follows by until the two of you disappear from the hangar.

“Sparkmate in distress. Advance with caution. In case of Sparkmate rejection, proceed to program Offline codes.”

Optimus looks at his servo. The pink chocolate box is destroyed. It was a nice gift. Delicate, gentle, genuine. And he destroyed it. All that was left was the result of his own selfish actions.

He didn’t know how to approach you. Nor knew if he should. His processor was begging him to go talk to you.

His pedes hang from the cliff as he sees the stars in the sky. Its a view Cybertron was unknown to. His home planet, with all of its technological advances, unique traditions and indescribable views could never have this kind of beauty. Yet, it can’t compare to the delicacy of your eyes.

Hearing heavy steps walking towards him, he knows it wasn’t you. Most of the time, he couldn’t tell when you were approaching him, your steps were too small to be heard. Either that or he would smell your scent.

“You know, the right thing to do is apologize, right?”

Arcee was not one to open up easily. That was something she had in common with Optimus.

“It would be simple if I knew she would want me to,” he responds, seeing the motorcycle sit next to him.

“... Are all male bots this stupid?”

“I believe so.”

There was silence but it wasn’t awkward. They didn’t need to talk to understand each other. Optimus is a great leader but somewhat stupid when it comes to relationships. It is of no surprise, however. Cybertronian and Human relationships are very different. Cybertron culture is more reserved, sometimes even completely political. As a species living for so long, it’s more about companionship. A long lasting friendship. Finding a Sparkmate was completely rare. Something not everyone would get to experience.

Humans however … Due to their short lifespan, they were more prone to fall in love and out of love rather fast.

“My processor has been programmed to do things I deemed as primitive for our kind,” he says. “Sometimes I can’t control it.”

“Then just tell her that,” Arceee puts a servo on his shoulder. Physical contact wasn’t common in Cybertron either. But he didn’t mind. “And apologize … a lot.”

You started to overthink. A lot.

Optimus had feelings for you. Of that you were almost certain. You think ‘almost’ because now you weren’t so sure.

Optimus would live for many years after you are gone. Maybe one day he will finally find the one, his Sparkmate. Where would that leave your child? He has told you that he will be responsible. But is he doing it out of duty or because he has love for his sparkling? You didn’t want him to believe that he is being forced to stay.

It was a stupid thought. You knew that. But the thought still lingers in the back of your mind.

“Prime is gonna kill me whenever he finds out I took you out of the base.”

It's always nice to get out of the base during the night. Especially with someone who saw you as an individual instead of just a ‘carrier and savior of an advanced robot race.’ He also drives nicely, not too fast, not too slow. Alex used to be a mechanic, his love for cars was always evident. Even as he drives, you can tell that this is all he ever wanted to do.

“You know he won’t even kill a fly.”

“Yeah and that’s why it’s so fun to tease him.”

Alex tried to diminish the tension of the previous situation. He didn’t know why Optimus did what he did. But he feels a bit guilty for teasing Optimus as much. Maybe if he hadn't pushed him to his limits, he wouldn't have done such ugly act.

“Can we go to the beach?”

You ask randomly.

Alex smiles.

“Sure.”

When Ratchet informed him that you had gone on a night drive with Alex, he immediately went to your room.

Why?

It was something even he couldn’t understand.

He knew he wasn’t going to find you there.

Yet, his processor couldn’t understand how you weren’t here. He needs you. Now. His every circuit aching at the thought of you leaving his side. Carrying his sparkling and with a male who had successfully stolen you from his servos even if it's just for one night.

He can still smell your scent in your room. Even after he had mass-shifted to enter, the room was still too small for him. He touched the bedsheets and began to miss the moments he has shared with you before in it.

Where are you?

He needs you now. He needs to hold you, to know that you are safe. To express how much he adores you and the sparkling.

“Sparkmate Status: Missing. Sparkling Status: Missing. Safety Status: Unknown. If Unable To Locate, Proceed With Solitude Activation Codes.”

He used his Comm-Link to call your cell phone. But nothing. He tried again. Nothing.

It wasn’t until the 30th time that he understood … You didn’t want to be with him.

You didn’t want him.

His servos tremble.

Optics feel heavy. It’s strange. Having blue liquid come out of his eyes. He had cried before. For different reasons. This was pain, in its purest form. In a way words can’t describe. Proof of it were his subsided pleas of air as he had forgotten how to breathe, something he didn’t know he could do until he saw you.

His spark aches. It hurts. Everything.

Everything … His everything is gone.

It was about a 10 hour drive.

Watching the sunrise was always a beautiful experience. Feeling the warm sunlight touch your skin energizes you. It made you forget the previous negative emotions and you began to have this strange yearning.

For Optimus.

You wanted to be with him. Wishing he could be here with you along with your unborn child.

Maybe he had over reacted but knowing Optimus he probably has a good reason for destroying the chocolate box. Was he taking care of your weight? What if chocolate is toxic for sparklings? You wanted to talk to him and make things better–

Oh.

You were right. You do need the sun.

“Let’s build a sandcastle.”

Alex could sometimes be like a child, which was fun. There was never a boring moment with him.

“Let’s build an Autobot, instead!”

You let yourself touch the sand and immediately feel something moving inside you. It feels strange. It doesn’t hurt but feels very uncanny. Nonetheless, you smile as you put your hands in your belly. Your sparkling may be more human than you think, also enjoying the activity and fresh air.

“Do you think will look like his father?”

You ask Alex as he tries to make a small square with his hands, using water from a water bottle.

He looks at you and then down at his little project.

“If the child were to live on Cybertron then I would prefer for them to look like Optimus,” he says, trying to think of a delicate way to tell you his opinion. “But since they will be living on Earth, then I genuinely hope they look more human.”

You know you will love the child no matter what. But Alex had a point. What kind of life will the child live if he is too different? Humans can be cruel, especially to those who are different.

“If something happens to me … will you take care of them?”

He lets out a heavy sigh and looks at you again. His mood had been ruined but it was a question you were meaning to ask.

“You know childbirth is difficult as it is and well, I am assuming giving birth to the first Human-Cybertronian child would be even more so.”

“You know we’ll have the best doctors in the world for that day,” Alex starts to mold more rectangular boxes as he stacks them up. Meanwhile you have started working on the head. “And if anyone can come out alive out of that it's you.”

He makes a pause and a small laugh escapes from his lips.

“Besides, didn’t you fuck a 20 feet tall alien robot? You did that and came out fine. Childbirth should be a piece of cake.”

Without any notice, Alex’s mouth is filled with sand. You had thrown him a sand-ball and he started spitting it out and washing his mouth with the remaining water.

“Hey! It's true!”

“Yes but you didn’t have to say it like that!”

“I don’t blame you, if Arcee would give me the chance, I would hit too–”

You throw more sand at him and he also retaliates. A sandy-battle unleashed as the wind was in your favor. Alex was gentle enough to only attack you below or above your belly. His ‘projectiles’ are extremely small compared to yours and between giggles and laughs, the battle continues until both of your hairs and clothes are covered with sand.

And then, Alex’s phone begins to ring.

“Where is he?”

The sun is still rising. The groundbridge could not stop time. But the time in California and Nevada were the same.

You run towards Ratchet who is still by the groundbrige system, Alex close by.

“At the top, he is doing better now that I told him you were returning but …” The autobot medic pauses, not finding the right words to describe the situation. “I think you should go and see for yourself.”

You didn’t hesitate and made your way towards the rooftop. Of course, you didn’t run but you moved as fast as your pregnant body could.

It was a good workout, you were losing your breath as you made your way to the elevator. If you had been in better shape, you would have taken the stairs.

As you wait to arrive at the top, you could hear the beats of your heart palpitating against your chest. Overthinking is a talent of yours. Many stupid thoughts crossed your head. Thinking that Optimus was too angry at you for leaving the base without permission. You were ready to accept your punishment, whatever that may be.

Instead, as you arrive at the top of the cliff, there are more questions than answers.

You find big rocks, with a weight of more than a ton. Two rocks standing vertically and one on top of the two laying horizontally. Like a small house made out of giant rocks, enough space for a single Cybertronian. One that is around 20 feet tall, blue and red that turns into a truck.

Optimus is there but he is too busy spraying dandelions around his small house that he didn’t notice your presence.

It wasn’t until he turned around that his optics shine in excitement. He almost runs towards but reminds himself to be gentle. Reaching out a servo, you expected him to hold you but he doesn’t he pulls away, using all of his strength to restrain himself.

“I am glad to see you are safe.”

He says in a soft voice, the relief in his voice is evident and you feel the need to jump into his servos and be embraced by him. But just like him, you stopped yourself from doing so.

“I am glad you are safe too,” you tilted your body a little, your attention directed to the rocks behind. “Ratchet said you were acting … strange.”

Optimus also takes a look at his creation. He wished he could do better but its the best he could do with his limited resources.

“Yes, you could say so.”

“May I ask, what is going on?”

He has been meaning to tell you but he doesn't know without getting nervous. He didn’t know how you would react. Will you think of him as weird? Disgusting even? But he can’t run away any longer. You are the sword and he is against a dead end with the only option being moving forward.

“Cybertron hasn’t had a sparkling in milenia so to ensure its safety, my processor activated primal codes,” Optimus says. “It makes me do things that may be antiquated.”

Not understanding fully, but if you had to come to a conclusion, Optimus may be going through something similar to animal mating rituals. Which is not so far fetched since Cybertron used to have Predacons before Cybertronians appeared.

“Is that why you destroyed my chocolate box?”

“Due that we haven’t concluded the Conjunx Ritus, my processor doesn’t consider you as my Conjunx Endura yet, although I consider you my Sparkmate” Optimus blinks multiple times as he only does when he is nervous. “I identified Special Agent Alex’s actions as threatening to steal you and my sparkling.”

“Me?”

“Yes, although those reasons are more … intimate ones.”

Your heart beats faster as the sunlight reflects on his paint-job. He looks beautiful. You once again remember how incredible and extraordinary of an individual he is. There is no one like him in the entire universe and never will. You feel delighted to know that you are in his presence, being able to admire a side not one has seen yet.

“Oh,” you look away after realizing you had been staring at him for too long. “And that?”

You point at the rock structure and Optimus optics quickly follow.

“After you left, I went to look for you at your private quarters,” he kept looking at the rocks and you wonder the struggles he had to go through to carry them to the top. “Not seeing you there activated my Solitude Codes.”

He walks towards the rocks, there are a lot of dandelions. Some of them died. Others are alive. There is some sort of yearning in his optics as if he belongs there. Its a sorrowful yearning, as if he was made to do something that he wishes to not do. Yet, he knows he would be skillful at it.

“I felt the need to build this.”

“And do what?”

You ask, not wanting to walk closer as you thought that maybe you would be overstepping his boundaries.

“Wait,” he answers.

His back faces you. Not being able to see his faceplate, you can only tell how he feels based on his voice box’s tone. He just stands there, looking down.

“For what?”

“For you to come back.”

He answers so longingly that it makes you almost shed a tear. For a moment, time stops. There is no wind, no sound, no scent, nothing. But just him. As if your entire world had become just him.

“... And if I didn’t come back?”

He slowly turns to look at you. A soft smile, of love. There wasn’t any desire in it. It was pure. Genuine. As he is in love with your soul and wishes to spend eternity with the thought of you. With your existence, whatever that was. To be one until the heavens and the earth collide.

“I would wait until you do.”

And for a second, the Prime no longer was. But just a spark. In his purest form. His faceplates open, he wants to say something but it's lost in words. He had given up so easily. Realizing that he has yet to find the right words to express his love for you. A love so vast that not even the best poets or writers could ever put into paper.

If he could go back in time and stop himself from becoming a Prime, he would. Because being an archivist would have made him more eloquent, maybe then, he could describe to you a small fraction of his endless adoration.

“Prime–”

“Guys!” Alex came out of the elevator, screaming and ruining the moment. “Sorry to interrupt but we have a message coming from Megatron!”

He tilts his head outside the elevator, blue eyes staring at the two of you. Noticing that he interrupted a romantic scenario, he just pointed a finger at the two of you.

“Prime we need you, please make-out quickly!”

And with that, Alex leaves as soon as he appeared.

“Well, now that you are here, I won’t be using this,” Optimus walks towards you and bends down on one knee. He is still too tall but you appreciate that he tries to see you faceplate to face. Using a servo, he caresses your hair and your soft skin. With so much adoration and devotion.

“I don’t have much time but I realized I haven’t thank you yet for carrying my Sparkling.”

He wants to hold you. Craving it. He wishes he could have time to tell you more. To whisper in your ears sweet things. To read to you the most lovely of poems. To just rot in a bed, indulging in nothing but love.

But he can’t. Not now.

“Creating a new life with you has been the greatest honor of my life.”

He stands up, walks past you. Leaving you at a shock, at a state of awe.

“Now, let us go,” he says. “Some things can’t wait.”

He'll wait until you call him by his first name again.

A/N: It was fun to write this. Optimus panicking and not understanding the changes he is going through. I think on this he has accepted that he may not win you back but that won't stop him from loving you and his sparkling. Meanwhile you are falling for him all over again.

I wrote this because y'all liked the concept for Counting Stars and supported it a lot! So thank you everyone so much for the support.

This was a one shot and I continued it because there was lots of love but I don't have a certain story-line. To be honest I don't know how to continue it.

For the next chapter (if there is one) I was thinking that Megatron accidentally sends Reader to the Dark Dimension where Reader meets Nemesis Prime. In this dimension, Optimus loses Reader and his Sparkling, transforming him into an evil being.

Meanwhile in Reader's dimension, Optimus is losing it. Slowly spiraling into madness at the thought of never seeing Reader and his Sparkling again. Destroying everything on sight, the Autobots fight to keep Optimus at bay.

The plot would end with Optimus and Nemesis fighting to see who would keep Reader.

That storyline would take around 2-3 chapters and it would conclude this story.

But that is just a thought, I still don't if I'll continue this since I really need to focus on writing the next chapter for 'The Darkest Hour'

And I am currently working on a oneshot bayverse Optimus fic too so please look forward to it!

Again thank you for reading and sorry for any spelling and grammar mistakes.

See You in the next story!

https://www.tumblr.com/t-a-a-1/771132293279580160/counting-stars?source=share

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coochiequeens · 15 days ago

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Womens history just got richer.

When the deeply patriarchal Romans first encountered Celtic tribes living in modern-day France and Great Britain in the first century B.C.E., their reaction to the roles of the sexes was one of surprise and dismay. The tasks of men and women “have been exchanged, in a manner opposite to what obtains among us,” wrote one Roman historian.

New evidence from Celtic graves now confirms that at least one part of Britain was a woman’s world long before the Romans arrived—and for centuries afterward. One ancient British tribe known as the Durotriges based its family structure—and perhaps property inheritance—on kinship between mothers and daughters. Men, meanwhile, left home to live with their wives’ families, a practice known as matrilocality that has never been seen before in European prehistory.

The work, published today in Nature, helps explain why women in Iron Age Britain are often buried with high-status grave goods such as mirrors and even chariots, says Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich archaeologist Carola Metzner-Nebelsick, who was not involved with the research. “It’s a fantastic result,” she says. “It really helps explain the archaeological record.”

Ancient histories—not least Julius Caesar’s 50 B.C.E. account of invading Gaul—hinted at female empowerment among the Celts. “They wrote about it because they found it so weird,” says Trinity College Dublin geneticist Lara Cassidy.

Many modern historians assumed the accounts were exaggerated; they dismissed rich female graves from the time as outliers. But over the past few decades, archaeologists comparing burial practices at hundreds of Iron Age sites from Britain to Germany began to think there was a kernel of truth to the Roman reports.

The Durotriges cemeteries, located in the far south of England near the city of Bournemouth, offered a way for Cassidy and her team to investigate. Burials there began around 100 B.C.E., roughly 150 years before Roman forces invaded the island. Unusually for Iron Age Britain, the tribe didn’t cremate their dead. Instead they buried them close to home, in the hills surrounding their farmsteads.

Whereas men were laid to rest with a joint of meat and perhaps a pot containing a beverage to sustain them on their journey into the afterlife, Durotriges women are often found with elaborate offerings including mirrors, combs, jewelry, and even swords. “If you judge social status by burial goods, then female burials have vastly more than male,” says Bournemouth University archaeologist Miles Russell, a co-author of the new paper.

Over the past 4 years, researchers sequenced DNA from dozens of Durotriges skeletons in a set of cemeteries in Dorset, England. By matching identical fragments of genetic material from different individuals, they reconstructed a family tree that spanned six generations—many of whom were female descendants of a single female founder. Two-thirds of the people in the kin group buried in the cemetery shared a rare type of mitochondrial gene, a form of DNA inherited only from the mother, including some of the men who shared the same female ancestor.

Other genetic evidence from the Durotriges cemeteries pointed to matrilocality, showing that men joined the clan from other families. “Women are staying close to family and are embedded in the support network they’ve known since childhood,” Cassidy notes. “It’s the husband who’s coming in as a stranger and is dependent on the wife’s family.” Women were evidently a force to be reckoned with in this part of Iron Age Britain.

Archaeologists have found that members of Great Britain’s Durotriges tribe often buried women with more grave goods than men.Miles Russell/Bournemouth University

Such patterns could help explain finds elsewhere in the Celtic world, where women were sometimes buried with rich grave goods or even chariots. “We’re thinking this could have been quite widespread,” Cassidy says.

To gather further evidence, she and her colleagues re-examined previously published genomes from more than 150 sites in Britain and Europe stretching back to the Stone Age. Starting around 500 B.C.E., the diversity in people’s mitochondrial DNA declined, the team found, suggesting more of them shared the same female ancestors. There was no matching decline in the diversity of Y chromosomes, which are passed from fathers to sons.

That suggests communities across Britain were anchored by specific female lines, with men marrying in from outside. “The signal they see in [the Durotriges] case study can be reproduced in other British sites,” says Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology archaeogeneticist Joscha Gretzinger, who was not involved with the work. “That’s quite a smoking gun.”

The study is part of a growing use of��DNA to reconstruct genetic kinship in the deep past—and use it to shed light on the structure of past societies. University of Liverpool archaeologist Rachel Pope says the research is starting to highlight the wide variety of social organization people practiced in the past, something archaeology has hinted at over the past 2 decades.

Some of the earliest kinship studies using ancient DNA, for example, showed that Stone Age farmers in Britain and France living in the fifth millennium B.C.E. were organized patrilocally, with women leaving their homes to marry while men stayed put. The new data from Durotriges suggest that by the Iron Age, 4000 years later, something had shifted. “This is quite exciting,” Pope says. “There are moments in time in which societies seem to have a lot of high female status.”

#Women in history #ancient britain #ancient British tribe known as the Durotrig #matrilocality #Bournemouth

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thetriggereffect · 3 months ago

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True Blood - The Medical Advancement With No Medical Applications

Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed True Blood, but I was always annoyed about one thing in particular: The whole setup is that scientists came up with a way to make artificial blood, but the only time we see this miracle advancement is in a bottle marketed to vampires. This is incredibly myopic, as this would be one of the most significant medical advances in history.

First of all, the Red Cross spends $2 billion a year collecting blood-- a majority of its operating budget. That money would no longer be needed, and would be spent on other causes. The Red Cross itself would become a considerably less influential power, which would probably be good for everyone (including the Red Cross).

In a world where blood is available by the keg, the average human lifespan would probably spike by 20 years. There are plenty of ailments, illnesses, and conditions that can be treated quite effectively with blood transfusion, but aren't, because blood isn't really available on that type of scale.

Every ambulance would be carrying a couple of gallons of O positive. In large hospitals they'd be working out of 50 gallon barrels. (This sounds like an exaggeration, but you'd be amazed how many different fluids are used in medicine because you just can't have that kind of blood on hand-- and because they're NOT blood, they have limits that unlimited transfusions would not.)

You would literally have a new class of licensed medical professional-- a transfusionist, falling somewhere between a phlebotomist, a paramedic, and a nurse. And they would be in incredibly high demand, because oh, buddy, we now have a world with elective blood transfusions.

Getting an "oil change" would be part of the spa experience. There would be teams doing housecalls out of a van ambulance, and blood boutiques in every shopping mall. Wealthy people would get transfusions the morning after a night of extreme partying.

And, I know, that's not the story they wanted to tell, but there would have been impact on the vampires as well, because the availability of True Blood would make real blood more readily obtainable, because humans could donate large quantities with no ill effects. (Hell, get a license as a transfusionist, go around in a van, and trade housewives a couple pints of True Blood for their natural blood... they'll PAY YOU to do it, and you can sell the blood or (if you're a vampire) drink it yourself.)

#worldbuilding fail #true blood

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mrnightingale · 18 days ago

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DBDA Character Appreciation Week: #4 Niko Sasaki

I love her sm!!! Outfit ideas here by @katygorl

The yellow one is w a pastel highlighter, and the other two w colouring pencils and greyish purple and violet highlighter. I really like this one, I think I'm starting to find a colouring technique I don't completely hate!!! Whoohoo! (Btw in the purple one, the flowers on her top and boots are two different types of Violets, and she's holding a pink sea glass bc palasaki my beloved ones, they're matching ✨✨✨).

Words can't explain how much I love Niko, she's incredibly sweet and friendly and empathetic, and I love her dynamic with practically every character in the show, but what I love the most is that we can actually see on-screen how much she grows through the chapters, how stronger she's getting. I love DBDA because it portrays how different people deals with their feelings in a realistic way, how every teen has their own problems and it takes them with the care it deserves, it doesn't feel exaggerated but every topic is given the adequate seriousness it requires, and honestly is such a masterpiece in the storytelling and pacing through the chapters between the cases and their own character arcs that their evolution doesn't feel rushed at all, but then you look back and see how much they changed, and is really heartwarming.

I love Niko because at first she's locked up in her room and doesn't talk with anyone, and slowly starts opening up with Crystal, and the boys, and then you think she's okay, but she's not. Dealing with depression and mental health issues it's much more difficult than it might seem from the outside, because one day you're feeling Good Enough to go and talk to people with a smile on the face, but that doesn't mean you're really okay. That just means you're feeling Good Enough to keep the mask on through a conversation. And Niko feels pretty realistic and natural to me because healing requires time, and support, and the agency is supporting her but they're not rushing her up to join on cases until she's ready, and that's beautiful. I think it's beautiful bc it shows a healthy environment that provides comfort and support and she's getting better thanks to it, and thanks her own hidden strength, and they're helping her realize where that strength comes from.

And, idk, as I have already said millions of times, I really love Niko and Edwin's relationship, it feels so genuine and heartwarming and bro I want the Niko to my Edwin soooo bad. Help. But my point is. I think the best word I could find to describe their relationship is "comfort" bc they can be themselves with each other, talk about their problems without pressure, knowing that the other will accept them no matter what and will help and support them and, idk, the scene when they're watching Scooby Doo while Niko writers the letter to her mother and Edwin is just there, not intervening but just saying there so she's not alone, idk, it spokes so deeply to me. Like if they could face everything as long as they have each other. I know there's always been Charles and Edwin, and they fighting together against everything, but the relationship w Niko is set in a different emotional basis and I think that's something Edwin needed, being able to talk about his feelings, and the same with Niko.

Brooooo help I love this show so fucking much, it's a masterpiece in every aspect but I'll never stop rewatching and looked amazed by the characters. They're unapologetically queer, and real, and they deal with the Life, and oh fuck, Life is hard as hell, Life is a kick after kick and punch after punch and somehow we have to keep living through it, and I feel so seen when I look at the screen and I can relate with some things that I used to think they were so personal and that I was alone w that, only bc there wasn't any representation of it. We're not alone dealing with Life, and this masterpiece of art that it's Dead Boy Detectives shows it perfectly.

It's queer and flamboyant and bizarre, you have ghosts running for their afterlifes, you have a psychic dealing with her toxic demon ex-boyfriend, and a quirky witch and her familiar twink that actually shows real abusive relationships, you have a Cat King whose only relationships are shallow, and a Night Nurse that knows everything about everything and still has a lot to learn, and you have Niko, a lonely, aloof girl with two dandelion spirits in a bell jar in her room, a girl who grew up with the support of their friends and started to live again, and love again, and love Life, and still, she gave her life for their friends.

And her death matters.

#my art #my post #dbdacharacterappreciationweek #niko sasaki #dead boy detectives #dbda #save dead boy detectives #save dbda #dead boy detective agency #artists on tumblr #traditional art

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project-sekai-facts · 5 months ago

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Does the play in revival my dream is really racist/stereotypical ?

Yes, I don't think it was intentional at all in fact it's pretty clear the intention was to say "don't judge those who are different from you just because you don't understand them" but ultimately they failed at that.

The play presents it as a very "both sides" kind of issue in terms of the natives and colonisers not understanding each other. There's also this line:

Before this the town dwellers (colonisers) had been incredibly rude towards and fearful of the forest people (natives). The girl Emu is playing rescues a solider after her people attacked him, even though the soliders had literally just invaded their land "just to check" if the natives were gonna attack the town. "They're not all bad" to the officer who just led a march onto someone else's land just in case is not the right message here at all.

Also ultimately it's revealed that the conflict between the both sides was instigated by a third party. The worse coloniser who wants to exploit the natives for their natural resources. The townspeople are the good colonisers who should be forgiven for their actions because they were manipulated by the antagonist who is a bad coloniser is also not a good look. Like it really hammers in the "not all bad" message here by introducing the only character who you are meant to think of as bad. Not like the other townspeople were incredibly racist before they made amends with the natives. That can be forgiven because they don't really think like that they were just manipulated by the evil exploitative coloniser. Do you see how bad that message is.

(Also there's a line about how the townspeople might sell Emu to another country for interacting with them and maybe we're meant to view it as an exaggeration but either way. Why are we meant to be forgiving towards these people again?)

While the movie Emu and Nene's cards seem to take inspiration of is based on the Emishi people, it's more likely that the play is based on Ainu people, due to the more recent archetecture used in the sets, as well as the costumes for the officer and subordinate (refer to Tsukasa's rmd untrained). Emishi people are believed by historians to be ancestors (but ethnically distinct) to Ainu people. I strongly suggest looking into the history of Ainu people and the oppression they faced from the Japanese government and other countries (European ones surprise surprise), because the oppression dates back over a millenium and is far too much for me to reasonably cover in any detail. In brief, the government for centuries has regarded the Ainu people as a primitive and barbaric group (both terms are also used in the rmd play), and in recent centuries took their lands in northern Japan with the expectation that the Ainu would assimilate with the Yamato Japanese people. Post WW2 they were denied rights to their traditional practices and even their language due to governments pushing for monoculturalism.

That's not even going into the fact that the reason wxs is the only unit that has card sets based on other cultures (this and island panic) is because they're treated like costumes, which in itself is an incredibly dehumanising and racist way to think.

#asks #ask to tag #and feel free to contribute this isn't the best explanation

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rootedinrevisions · 4 months ago

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In the Wings: Part 3

SUMMARY: The natural chemistry between you and Glen continues to build in subtle but meaningful ways. When Glen casually invites you to join him for lunch at a nearby food truck, you find yourself unexpectedly spending a relaxed afternoon together, where easy conversation flows and hints of something more begin to surface. Later, as a stressful, windy day on set pushes you to the edge, Glen notices your struggle and steps in to offer comfort, reminding you how appreciated you are. His small but sincere gesture leaves a lasting impression, strengthening the connection between you.

OTHER PARTS: PART 1 I PART 2

WARNINGS: None.

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

As you grabbed your bag, ready to head out for lunch with the other hair and makeup artists, there was a knock on the door. You paused for a moment, glancing over at the other girls, then back at the door. You instinctively moved to set it down, assuming somebody was coming by for a touch-up or something work-related.

Before anyone could respond, the door creaked open, and Glen stepped inside, flashing that effortless smile of his.

"Hey," he said, hands tucked casually in his pockets. "I was just about to head down the beach and grab something from this food truck everyone’s been talking about. Thought I’d see if you wanted to come with?"

You blinked in surprise, your bag slipping slightly from your hand. But lunch? You hadn't expected that. A touch-up on his hair or makeup, sure. But not lunch.

"I was actually about to head out with the girls," you said, nodding towards your friends who were already grinning and nudging each other as they packed up their things.

One of them waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, don’t worry about us. You should definitely go."

"Yeah, seriously," chimed in another. "We'll be fine. Go hang with Mr. Food Truck over here."

You could feel your cheeks warm slightly, their teasing not helping your decision-making process. You glanced back at Glen, who was now leaning casually against the doorframe, waiting patiently for your response, a light smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Are you sure?" you asked your friends, not entirely sure why you were suddenly so nervous.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t spent time with Glen before, but this felt… different.

"Absolutely. We’ll catch you later," one of them insisted, practically pushing you toward the door with an exaggerated wink. The girls’ playful encouragement was impossible to ignore, and you gave them a sheepish smile as you turned back to Glen.

"Looks like I’m in," you said, trying to sound casual as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

Glen’s smile widened as he pushed open the door for you to step through.

"Awesome. Let’s go," he said, motioning for you to follow him outside.

As the two of you made your way toward the beach, you could hear the muffled giggles of your friends from inside the trailer.

As you and Glen made your way down the sandy path towards the beach, the breeze carried a light saltiness in the air, and the sound of waves crashing against the shore mixed with the faint murmur of people in the distance. The sun wasn’t harsh yet, just a comfortable warmth that seemed to reflect the ease between the two of you. You glanced at Glen, who walked beside you with an easy stride, his hands casually tucked in his pockets.

“So,” you began, deciding to break the silence, “is this food truck really that good? Or are you just hyping it up because you need someone to share the disappointment with?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, it’s good. Trust me. I don’t joke about food, especially when I’m the one making the recommendation.”

“Alright, I’ll hold you to that,” you teased. “But if it’s not as good as you say, I’m never letting you live it down.”

Glen raised an eyebrow. “Deal. But when it turns out to be incredible, I’ll expect a full apology. Maybe a handwritten letter.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “You’re not getting a letter, Powell. At best, you’ll get a shrug and a ‘fine, it’s okay.’”

The two of you exchanged playful banter as you neared the food truck, the line not too long but bustling enough to add to the lively atmosphere.

Glen ordered first, then stepped back, watching as you read the small chalkboard menu. “Go ahead and order whatever you want,” he said casually, “my treat.”

You gave him a look, raising an eyebrow. “Trying to buy my forgiveness ahead of time, huh?”

“Just being polite,” he replied with a shrug, though the smirk on his face said otherwise. You shook your head, but didn’t argue, stepping up to order your food.

A few minutes later, with your meals in hand, Glen led you down toward a quieter spot on the beach. He kicked off his shoes and gestured to a space just far enough from the water to avoid the rising tide but close enough to hear the gentle crash of waves.

“Here good?” he asked, glancing at you for confirmation.

You nodded, sitting down and adjusting yourself on the soft sand. Glen settled beside you, stretching his legs out in front of him and balancing his food container on his lap.

For a few moments, you both sat in comfortable silence, focusing on your food. The sounds of the beach washed over you, and the sun glittered off the waves. It was one of those rare moments where nothing felt rushed, where you could just sit and enjoy the simplicity of it all.

“So,” Glen said between bites, “you think you’ll be working on a lot of big sets after this?”

You glanced at him, considering the question. “I mean, that would be nice, but it depends. This gig’s definitely been the biggest so far, but I try not to think too far ahead. You never know with this industry.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, that’s true. It’s kind of like that on our side too, you know? You could be riding high on one film, and then nothing for months. But something tells me you’ll be busy. You’re really good at what you do.”

His tone was genuine, not the teasing or lighthearted vibe you’d gotten used to. You paused for a second, taking in his words, then gave him a small smile. “Thanks. I don’t usually hear that directly from the actors, so I’ll take it.”

“Well, consider me the first of many,” he said, his voice soft but sincere. He took a sip of his drink, his gaze shifting from the ocean to you for a moment, holding your eyes just a second longer than you expected. It was a brief, almost imperceptible moment, but it left a faint flutter in your chest.

The conversation flowed easily from there—lighthearted, playful, filled with shared stories and a few inside jokes. It was comfortable, and as the sun dipped lower in the sky, you found yourself not wanting the moment to end. There was something easy about being around Glen, something that didn’t feel forced or overdone.

After you finished your meals, the two of you stayed seated on the sand, watching the waves roll in. You could feel the faintest hint of something lingering beneath the surface—an unspoken connection that was becoming harder to ignore. But neither of you pushed it, neither of you addressed it outright.

Instead, you sat together in that quiet space, the gentle breeze brushing past, and let the moment be exactly what it was. It was enough—for now.

* * * *

The following week on set was a rough one. The wind had been relentless all morning. Every time you thought you’d finished touching up one actor’s hair, another gust of wind would come through and undo all your efforts. Between rushing from one trailer to the next and trying to juggle all the touch-ups while keeping a smile on your face, you were starting to feel like you were barely keeping up.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, the weight of the day was pressing down on you. The momentary breaks you’d been hoping for never seemed to come, and now you were back on set with your hands full of hairspray and a comb, trying to tame Glen’s wind-tossed hair for what felt like the tenth time.

He sat in the chair in front of you, wearing his flight suit, waiting patiently as you worked. But even through the focus of your task, you could feel his eyes on you. Normally, you’d crack a joke or chat, but today, you just didn’t have it in you. You were too focused on trying to get his hair right despite the elements.

“Everything okay?” Glen asked softly, breaking the silence.

His tone was different from normal—it was gentle and concerned.

You gave a quick, dismissive smile, not wanting to draw attention to your exhaustion. “Yeah, I’m good. Just a little tired.”

But Glen wasn’t buying it. His eyes studied your face as you continued to comb through his hair. “You sure? You seem a little... off.”

You paused for a moment, glancing at him through the strands of hair you were fixing. Part of you wanted to shrug it off, to keep pushing through the day without letting anyone know how much it was getting to you. But Glen’s genuine concern made you hesitate.

“I’m fine,” you said, though your voice lacked the usual energy it carried. “It’s just... you know, the wind’s doing a number on everyone’s hair, and I feel like I’m putting out fires nonstop.”

Glen nodded as if he understood exactly what you meant. “Yeah, it’s been pretty brutal out here. But hey, you’ve been handling it like a pro.”

You finished with his hair, stepping back and giving it one last check before capping your hairspray.

“Thanks,” you said, managing a small smile. “Just trying to keep everyone looking their best.”

Glen stood up from the chair, and before you could step away, he reached out and pulled you into a brief, warm hug. It wasn’t a grand gesture or anything that would draw attention from the rest of the crew, but it was enough to make you pause. His arm wrapped around your shoulder, offering a sense of comfort you hadn’t realized you needed.

“You’re doing a great job,” he murmured softly, his voice close to your ear. “Just so you know.”

It was a small thing, but it hit you harder than you expected. You felt seen—all the effort you’d been putting in, and that moment of kindness washed over you like a breath of fresh air. You hadn’t realized just how much you needed to hear those words until they left his mouth.

When Glen pulled back, there was a quiet, understanding smile on his face, and for a second, you felt like everything was okay again. The wind was still blowing, the work was still piling up, but somehow it all felt a little more manageable.

“Thanks,” you said softly, your voice carrying more sincerity than before. “I really needed that.”

Glen just winked, a playful glint returning to his eyes. “Anytime. Just don’t tell the rest of the cast—I can’t have them expecting hugs every time they need a pick me up.”

You laughed, feeling a little lighter as you gathered your things. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

As Glen walked away, you watched him go with a newfound appreciation for the way he had managed to lift your spirits. It wasn’t anything grand or over the top, but it was enough to keep you going for the rest of the day. Sometimes, all it took was a small moment like that to remind you that you weren’t just invisible behind the scenes—you were seen, and you mattered.

#Glen Powell Fic #Glen Powell Fanfic #Glen Powell Fanfiction

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cringefail-clown · 11 months ago

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Jakehal is very fun. But why dirkkri? I dont understand what's appealing about it :? confused

theres a lot of things i like about dirkri and honestly i dont even know where to start lmfao

first of all, and its mostly a funny reason - davekat on crack. like some traces of davekat are still there - the arguing about shit, stoic facade vs emotional mess, all the good stuff, but its also so much more exaggerated it makes it this much more ridiculous. gets even better when you consider them under the lense of swap aus like alphaswitch or tbau, where they land on the meteor together. theyre most likely hunting each other for sports by the year two

second of all, the funney. theyd be so fucking funny together. their smallest arguments would take like twenty pages of non-stop flow of red-orange text to resolve, and not because they came to a consensus but because some third party physically dragged them away from their electronics. it doesnt do any good, since it only gives them both time to think over new arguments to use, and theyre back at it as soon as they get their phones back. like if we had a tournament about which ship would do the most collateral damage to the overall group, i think these two would be Up There. karkat would gauge his eyes out from frustration, because now not only does he have to deal with his piece of shit, know-it-all other self, but now theres also Fucking Dirk thrown into the mix. their home life is absolute insanity, a small jab about the other forgetting to buy sugar once again devolves into a screaming match about the merits and flaws of communism or some other inane shit. and theyre doing it for fun, they enjoy debating with each other, because often times they have vastly different opinions, and comparing their beliefs challenges them intelectually and morally. from the outside perspective theyre one of the most dysfunctional pair in the paradox space, when in fact thats simply how they want their relationship to be, and it makes them better people overall.

third reason is that theyre thematically delicious. dirk is a control freak, micromanaging his and his friends constantly. hes terrified of losing control, but hes also desperate for someone to just tell him what the fuck he should do. dirk doesnt think he should be in control of others, because he believes hes a naturally evil person capable of horrible acts, at the same time he doesnt trust anyone else to get things done but himself. hes a whole collection of contradictions.

kankri desperately needs to be in control as well. hes constantly injecting himself into conversations he has no business being in, trying to find someone thatd listen to what he has to say. hes wants to guide others, but his efforts are flawed, because he doesnt listen to other perspectives - hes got tunnel vision, as he thinks hes the one in the right while everyone else is wrong or ignorant (cringefail seer literally). he doesnt trust anyone else to make decisions for him, and becomes defensive when he thinks others are attempting to coddle him. his ass was definitely culled on beforus.

theyre also both so fucking lonely. dirk conciously tries to put difference between himself and his friends, worrying hell "corrupt" them. kankri tries to connect to his friends, but his behavior alienates him from them to the point of no one except maybe porrim want to have anything to do with him.

my point is, kankri wants to guide people but has to learn to listen to others and reflect on his own flawed opinions. dirk has to learn to trust that people closest to him can get shit done on their own and loosen up, as well as realise hes not evil at the core. them helping each other out - dirk teaching kankri about different perspectives, kankri teaching dirk about letting others do their thing - is something i think about a lot.

also i like to think theyd spar for fun a lot as well. its not really a reason and wholly my own personal headcanon but i wanna mention it as well bc its so funny to me. i like the idea of kankris behaviour being a complete reverse of karkat - where karkat is all bark no bite and doesnt like fighting or violence, kankri puts up a front of the beacon of love and peace and tolerance, but in his free time he gets his rifle and goes shooting at the fucking squirrels or some shit. i think he wouldnt have the same qualms about strifing as karkat. like dirk would try to jokingly jab his finger at kankris side and he would just fucking flip him over his shoulder and onto the table breaking it in half, because he doesnt like being touched unexpectedly and by gods dirk when will you fucking learn. he goes from 0 to 100 real fast. its such a hysterical concept for me.

#homestuck #dirk strider #kankri vantas #dirkri #dirkkri #turnabout au #homestuck turnabout #alphaswitch #tagging it as well bc well. dirkri #is it dirkri manifesto? its dirkri manifesto #wally where are you i need your words tell em tell em why dirkri is so fucking good

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sideysvault · 2 months ago

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𓍼ོ Ad Astra Per Aspera 𓍼ོ (PT. 3)

Preservation

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

wc: 1015k

Tags: [sfw] Arranged marriage, slow burn, angst, mentions of dead, mature themes, enemies to lovers, hurt, comfort.

full series masterlist. read part four

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“You must indulge me and carry a weapon with you. You are my wife now. That implies risk in these circumstances”.

The Princess couldn’t help herself, she blurted out a laugh as she playfully —not without a hint of cruelty, of course— added “Are you having delusions of power again, dear husband? We are not the ones responsible for the royal lineage, remember?”.

Aemond snapped his tongue in annoyance, forgetting everything he was taught on the matter of manners and polite diplomacy. It was always the same with her, the constant bickering, her vain mockeries. He was sure it was some kind of delusional defense against the act of political marriage, because he had seen her be nothing but sweet towards Heleana and his niece. Despite knowing that fact, he still felt that their differences and her inclinations towards confrontation constituted an act of personal defiance.

On the other hand, his wife was tired of his constant oscillation between coldness and strange tenderness, he had been cruel to her about their lineage, and now was he seeking to protect it?

Whatever spell had been cast upon them on that dreadful night, whichever feelings were discovered, however warm their touch had felt to one another, it was now undoubtedly broken.

She knew that despite being feared and undermined, Prince Aemond was also passably seasoned in the art of war, and of civility at court. She did not consider these traits to be of great merit, as even a chimpanzee would be considered to be formal and of considerable intelligence if it stood directly beside The King. The Princess was not entirely sure where his urgency was coming from, but, knowing of The Queen's Dowry’s great cunning expertise in Machiavellian machinations, she was not sure if she should be afraid.

She scoffed out loud without meaning to. His paranoia must be rubbing off. Aemond seemed offended, as he exclaimed with irritation “You of all people must know what happened. We ought to do what we can to protect ourselves against the enemies of the crown“.

While it was true that the white cloaks wasted the entirety of their time drunk on wine and whores, the truth was that she felt safe with her husband. She would have never said it out loud, of course. Much less to Aemond himself. But she simply could not deny that he was fairly capable with the sword, childishly paranoid and positively ruthless. The Princess really felt no need to arm herself like a scared lamb. And she told him so. “Such displays are in bad taste”.

This was his time to mock her with a snort.

“Being precautionary is in bad taste now?, I had not yet been enlightened with that information” The Princess frowned. She was still getting used to her husband biting back, instead of his usual annoyed and quiet nature.

“It merely functions as a cry of desperation, not to mention it announces a lack of control within the own walls of your home”

The Prince, clearly tired of the back and forward, tiredly stated “Well, let it be small then. Conceal it if you wish, but we must start being careful”.

She felt a pinch of guilt. On some days —such as this one—, she wondered why she always had to put her worst face forward with him. She naturally had her reasons, but most of the time, when he was not ignoring her, she could tell he was making an effort to be cordial.

“Why are you so suddenly preoccupied with my well-being?” The change of tone in his wife's voice confused him. The serious ring to it was suddenly replaced with a playfully lighthearted one. Noticing his discomfort, The Princess tries a new strategy, while exaggerating her inflections slightly, she dramatically sits on the arm of the chair in which her husband rested and grabbed his cup. “Oh! Husband. You must stop drinking that tea immediately” It was wine “If I knew you loved me that much I would’ve never poisoned it” Evidently charmed by her own ingenuity, The Princess laughs at her own joke as he rolls his eyes with a small smile on his lips.

He took the opportunity which her proximity granted him to look at her. On a good mood, with that smooth and resolved attitude of hers, and the smile, and the way her hair ran through her slightly exposed shoulders… He stopped his sequence of thoughts before it was too late, and he lost all ability to do so.

His strong features recovered their sobriety soon enough though, as he whispered to her “Heleana and Jaehaera will suffer greatly if something were to happen to you”

The Princess, unable to control her body's reactions, rapidly felt her face feverishly enraged with embarrassment. Not knowing what to answer, she simply instinctively began to fidget with the baroque embroidery of her dress's sleeves. It was certainly true that she has not been any careful about her new-found relationship with the queen. She knows that if he ever uses it against her, there is no one to blame but herself for it.

She gazed at her husband. He was strikingly handsome, especially under the dim lights which always seemed to highlight his cheekbones, especially when his silver hair reflected the moonlight of the marital chamber, especially when he was being kind. The Princess sighed.

“If you are so bent upon the matter, I suppose I ought to comply. But it must be discrete”.

A wide grin appeared on his face; Cunning, triunfant. He carefully put his wine cup on an improvised protective cover her wife had made In an effort to stop hearing his winning about dust and marks on the table. She smiled.

Prince Aemond got up, ceremoniously bowed towards her, and buttoned his garment before making his way to the door. Before he left, he slowly turned around to see her one more time, just once. He gazed at her and proudly stated “I promise. As small as the pen you write your stories with, dear wife.”

Dear Gods. He could be such an annoying bastard.

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Notes: THANK YOU! The comments and re-blogs really do bring me so much joy. Here is a short but sweet chapter in order to celebrate that i got into one of my target unis! I am beyond happy. During these moments of stress being on tumblr has been a safe heaven. Anyways, as always, take care! -Sidey xx

Dedicated to the sweet @immyowndefender and @theresalwaysquotes whose comment really made me smile

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you #hotd fanfiction #hotd fandom #hotd s2 #hotd fanfic #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd season 2 #hotdn season two

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amostnobleyandere · 2 years ago

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Yandere! Noble! Scaramouche x GN! Reader (Arranged Marriage)

A/N: hey look first post!!!! this blog is basically just a place to dump my thoughts on yanderes and situations w them// if you’re not comfortable w that, please leave!!! this is not the place for you

GN reader but!!! the word “bride” is used once so do w that what you will .

remember, this is a mature blog !!! don’t like don’t read!!!!!!!!

warning(s): male! yandere, toxic relationships, slightly narcissistic yandere, verbal abuse, child neglect, arranged marriage, toxic behavior, bad parenting skills, loneliness, obsession, yandere scaramouche, scaramouche is his own warningetc. etc.

Synopsis: there’s this specific scenario ive been thinking of lately : an enemies to lovers, but with a yandere that is particularly bitter and hasn’t really experienced an unconditional love before but then his initial hatred of you turns into an obsession. I thought scara was perfect for it :)

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neither of you had wanted to get married; you, the child of the last bloodline of a falling noble family, and scaramouche, heir to one of the wealthiest and most prestigious names in the empire, would have never been pushed to marry under normal circumstances. it could only be assumed that fate had revealed its hand and placed its destiny upon you.

you had never even met the young man that society had branded as ruthlessly curt with a lash-like tongue. you had never expected to, considering how far apart you were, in different circles and in different worlds

he was the duchess’ nephew and only heir, and was untouchable in both stature and power. in contrast, your family name was declining rapidly. you knew why your mother and father had accepted the marriage proposal the day it came, and you knew why they decided not to tell you until the letter in reply had already been sent. you had no say in the matter

how your parents arranged a marriage between the two of you? well, you could certainly guess; noble ladies gossiped and gasped about the young man who was rich with a handsome face, but with an incredibly arrogant personality and a razor tongue that both reflected his wit and endless scorn. you thought that the rumors must have been over exaggerated, as they always were, but for the duchess to have to reach out to your family to find a spouse for her son? had all the other contestants been rejected, and now they were picking through the scraps that were left? or perhaps, had they rejected him?

now, you weren’t so sure

even then, some part of you had never thought they would agree to something like this; they had concluded that this was what was best for you, had even told you that you will live a much happier life if you were in a household that wasn’t always on the edge of crumbling and giving way to time; you could see that they did have the best of intentions. and still, you felt betrayed

unbeknownst to you, at the time, your fiancé had felt the same way toward his mother; the expression of his feelings on the matter, however, included a lot more yelling and rage in his questions as to why he was being dragged into this. he was used to being disappointed, but being so blatantly used?

unfortunately, scaramouche’s defiance was only met with a cold silence and a blank stare, and after he had vehemently denied to go along with the marriage, his mother had only said that nothing could be done. he had no choice in the matter.

and the gentle glint in her eyes, that had still remained their after all these years, that stayed as she firmly reprimanded him, only served to make him more furious.

and so, his resentment for you, the other victim in this situation, came naturally.

when he met you for the first time, his regularly crass and sarcastic attitude only got worse. you could see the embarrassment dawn on both your parents’ and his mother’s faces, cringing every time his voice got a little too loud or when he said something particularly blunt. he made snide comments on your upbringing, your title, even your clothing wasn’t spared the ruthless bite of his words. between his curt and cold attitude and your futile attempts at making conversation, you two didn’t exactly hit it off when you first met

and then, when you finally got sick of it and told him what exactly you thought of his words and his money and where he could shove them, his resentment turned into something much more personal: spite.

he reasoned that he had every right to hate you. to be overly rude and childish whenever you so much as got the idea to be five feet near him. he never asked for the marriage. he doesn’t care about how much it would benefit the two of you, and he’s long past trying to finally please his mother into loving him, so why should he have to act like the perfect husband for someone who is below him?

your parents seemed to love you plenty though. if their guilty eyes and shifty glances were anything to go by. even if they were shamelessly grabbing at the wealth and prestige of another family, he could tell that this marriage was meant for you and your future. even if you didn’t want it. even if you seemed to dread it. every time they brought you over for a scheduled date in the lonely garden at the back of the duchess’s estate, there seemed to be a subtle pain in their eyes.

perhaps, a paternal regret at having to make their child miserable so that they could eventually have the things they weren’t able to give them.

…well, it gave him more reason to torment you.

————————

there seemed to be no way out of the awkward meetings. your parents were hell bent on having scaramouche as your husband, and his mother was just as determined. so, when you did have to suffer through seeing each other, you kept trading thinly veiled insults, practically sulking every time you heard the others name, and bickering with the each other at every opportunity. it became a familiar routine for the two of you, to not get along and verbalize your frustrations through jabs and taunts

strangely enough, scaramouche grew fond of the bickering. you were practically the only person who would speak to him so casually. with so little respect and without fear of him blowing up. he thought it was refreshing. no one hardly ever talked to him anymore, and even a child that had everything and more could not curb his own loneliness by himself…he would never tell you that, though.

he thought that at least it was entertaining to tease you. actually, if you weren’t so annoying, he might have actually gone as far to say it’s pleasant having you in his company. It certainly beats the large, lonely house he had to wander every day.

plus, when was the last time he had talked this much? when someone had looked at him and acknowledged his existence without him having to work for it?

—————————

as the engagement progressed, you two ended up spending hours together every week, whether you wanted to or not, and while you were mentally and emotionally exhausted from the stress your parents were putting you through, he’s looking forward to your meetings like they’re the highlight of his week…it’s ridiculous, he thinks, and he thinks, and he thinks, and oh god now he can’t get you out of his head.

then suddenly, you’re calling it off. the whole engagement. miraculously, you guilted your parents into going back on what they had agreed to.

his mother is appalled and frustrated, a bit exasperated now that she has to find another suitable bride for her son.

scaramouche is beyond furious.

he goes quiet with rage. he’s more snappish now, towards the maids, towards everyone. his attitude is no longer his usual arrogance and crudeness. his usual bitterness rose into an explosive temper and ruthless training just to keep himself confined to a state of sanity. there is, once again, for the first time in many, many years, an unmistakable fear of abandonment that is raging in his head. he feels so wronged.

and it’s your fault.

and then, he goes silent. if they thought it was bad when he talked, see what they think when he’s quiet.

for his mother, it’s unnerving. to the servants, it’s downright terrifying.

no one realizes that he’s calculating. no one really expects it. everyone assumed this was one big temper tantrum after suffering a huge blow to his pride.

scaramouche was really only clutching his shattered heart after giving it to someone who threw it away.

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what he wants at first is revenge.

that’s what he wants to think he wants. he wants to make things even between the two of you; make you suffer like you made him. force his way into your mind in the worst way possible, and keep himself there to get the message across.

for the first few agonizing days after the annulment, he thinks; maybe that he should tamper with your parents businesses and make you a pauper, someone who is reduced to having to take care of their parents after you fall from the graces of society. and then, after that, he’s hoping you’d come crawling back to him, and ask for his help and his hand. and he’d oh-so graciously accept you back into his life; not before making you beg for it, though.

then again, perhaps toying with whatever lover you have would be a good way to get back at you. he just assumes that you have one, because you must, for you to just abandon him like that.

you should have just stayed.

either way, he’s going to make you regret it.

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it doesn’t take much for scaramouche to convince his mother to have a much needed talk with your parents.

and despite everything she’s done, ei does want to make her son happy. she wasn’t blind after all; he’s always seemed to be on edge, ever since the accident, but he had changed in the short amount of time he had know you. the boy she had failed to raise and care for, someone who was now so far out of her reach, seemed to be more calm and content when you were by his side. it had been a long time since she had seen her nephew look forward to something this much.

whether you want the engagement or not matters less to her.

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and so, your resistance all comes apart so easily. Ei is one of the most powerful people in the empire, so it doesn’t take much effort before she’s luring your parents into throwing you back to them and into scaramouche’s waiting arms. It would be the least she could do as his mother

it’s only a matter of time before you’re resting in the palm of his hand once again; the engagement is back on, running smoothly towards your fast approaching wedding, like your little rebellious mishap never even happened

scaramouche is reveling in it. he feels as though he’s won. and in truth, he has. he imagines the look on your face, how you’ll have to greet him eventually, look him in the eyes after tossing him to the side and then losing, and thinks about how he’s going to make your reunion as painful as possible when you do meet again

his wishes are fulfilled when not even a month later are you pushed into the expansive garden by servants and abandoned by them even quicker, watching them scurry away with pale but oddly relieved faces. once again, you were meant to suffer through another lunch date after you thought you had finally escaped and left the gloomy estate behind forever.

the familiar stone pathway and expansive flora only served to bring back bad memories of your failed attempt to gain your freedom and reminded you of what you would have to look forward to for the rest of your life. it’s only the scuffle of boots against the ground that brought you back to reality.

you knew exactly who was standing behind you.

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when scaramouche saw you standing there, muscles taught and shoulders tensed as you refused to look at him, he took his time observing you, savoring the moment and committing it to memory.

his slow and deliberate footsteps did little to calm your fraying nerves. You were both surrounded by tall hedges and the gentle sound of water coming from nearby fountains. no one else was around. You were completely isolated, with only your fiancé- no, your crazed future husband- keeping you company.

and as always, his presence was suffocating.

“you know, trying to run away from me was cute, but it got annoying after the joke was over. did you really think you could go against a duchy? don’t make me laugh.” his voice had a high and condescending lit to it that seemed to grate against your ears. your stony facade crumbled soon after, instantly revealing the confusion and panic that welled in your chest.

“…why did you do it?” your voice came out hoarse and low. you whirled around, finally looking into those violet eyes. scaramouche felt a shiver of excitement run up his spine as your watery gaze met his.

“you hated this engagement just as much as I did. why did you drag me back here? we both could’ve been free.” a bitter laugh escaped your throat that pathetically choked off into a sob.

he laughed lowly as his head titled down, shielding his eyes from you. the sight made you shudder involuntarily.

“‘drag you back?’ deary, you belong to me. you did the moment I decided I wanted you. what you want doesn’t matter anymore. You don’t know what’s good for yourself, clearly.”

when he lifted his head back up to meet your eyes, he was smiling. the soft turn of his lips wasn’t full of cruelty or malice, scorn or hatred, and somehow that made the uncharacteristically gentle look so, so much worse.

scaramouche picked up your limp hand, gently turning it over, and slipped a ring onto it. it was like putting a heavy shackle on a caged bird; it was needless and unnecessary, you were already trapped. the world did not need anything else but the duchess’s final word to let everyone know who you belonged to.

but, as you stood there staring blankly ahead, you noticed scaramouche seemed genuinely happy to see the band resting on your finger.

the smile he wore turned more playful, more mocking, as those piercing eyes looked at you as if you were pitiful and small, beneath him, something that needed guidance

and his purple eyes locked with yours as he slowly pulled you to him and brought you into a soft kiss.

—————————

“Give me your love. Give me your validation. Hand yourself over to me, body, mind, and soul.”

“And what if I don’t want to?”

“Darling, do you think you have a choice?”

#scaramouche #yandere x reader #yandere scaramouche #yandere genshin #yandere #yandere genshin impact #romantic yandere #male yandere #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #yandere wanderer x reader #yander wanderer #genshin impact #genshin

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librababe99 · 4 months ago

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hey veronica :))

i was wondering if you'd want to do a follow up for the friends to lovers fic. maybe something a little smutty? in my head it's just slow and sweet and she's reassuring Wade that yes she really does want him and he's just who me ??? whAt?

totally fine if this doesn't pique your interest though!

Hey Nikki !! This TOTALLY piques my interest---Wade is definitely one those guys who needs to be reminded how wanted and loved he is 🤭

I hope this second part does it justice!

More Than Just Friends: Part Two

Tags: MDNI, 18+ONLY, Wade Wilson, Female Reader, First Dates, Implied Smut, Set during the 2016 Deadpool Movie

Summary: Wade and Reader finally explore the depths of their newfound relationship....

wc: 1.4K

| More Than Just Friends: Part One |

After that night in Wade's apartment, something had shifted between the two of you. Everything was the same, yet completely different. The easy banter still flowed, the teasing grins and flirtatious remarks, but there was an undercurrent of something new—a closeness, an intimacy that hadn’t been there before. It was as if you had stepped into a new world with Wade, one where feelings were laid bare instead of hidden beneath layers of sarcasm and jokes.

Tonight was your first, official date.

You stood outside Wade’s apartment, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves as you knocked. The door creaked open, revealing Wade in his typical “trying but not trying” attire—black jeans, a snug shirt, and his favorite leather jacket slung over his shoulder. His eyes swept over you, and for a moment, he looked genuinely taken aback.

“You clean up nice, hot stuff,” he said with a grin, but there was a warmth in his voice that made your heart skip.

“Not so bad yourself,” you teased, stepping inside and closing the door behind you.

The plan was simple—dinner at one of Wade’s favorite low-key spots and then… Well, you didn’t know what would happen after, but the idea of it made your stomach flip. Being Wade, he insisted on not doing anything too fancy. “Who wants to be stuck in a stuffy restaurant when you could get some killer tacos and people-watch the weirdos of New York?” he’d said, and honestly, that sounded perfect.

Dinner was easy, comfortable, the two of you falling into the familiar rhythm of conversation. Wade made you laugh the entire night, spinning stories about his latest jobs, exaggerated just enough to be ridiculous. The whole time, though, there was an edge to him, a certain awareness in the way he looked at you. His eyes lingered longer, his touches were softer, more intentional.

You found yourself watching him, too—how his smile crinkled his eyes, how his voice softened when he leaned in close. You’d always been drawn to Wade, but now there was a sense of longing mixed in with the affection, something that made your heart race whenever your knees brushed under the table or when he caught your gaze and held it for a second too long.

By the time you left the taco joint, the city was alive with lights and sounds, and Wade took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The two of you walked through the streets, your pace leisurely as you talked about everything and nothing.

“You know,” Wade said, glancing sideways at you, “this was nice. Like, not that I hate being covered in blood and guts every time we hang out, but this? This was nice.”

You laughed, squeezing his hand. “Yeah, I could get used to this.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, but beneath it was that same tension—the unspoken promise of what the night might hold.

Eventually, you found yourselves back at Wade’s apartment. The moment you stepped inside, something shifted. It wasn’t awkward, but there was a weight to the air, a charged anticipation. Wade shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the back of the couch before turning to you with a look that made your breath catch.

“So… do we end this night with a classic movie? Something with lots of explosions and bad one-liners? Or do we…” His voice trailed off, and for once, there wasn’t a sarcastic edge to it. He was giving you an out, a chance to keep things light.

But you didn’t want light. Not tonight.

You stepped closer to him, your fingers brushing his arm as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “Or do we what?” you asked softly, though you knew exactly where this was going.

Wade swallowed hard, his usual bravado flickering. “Or… we end it like this.”

He closed the space between you in a heartbeat, his lips crashing into yours in a kiss that was both hungry and tender. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer as you melted into him, your arms wrapping around his neck. It was the kind of kiss that made your head spin, that made everything else in the world disappear.

When you finally broke apart, both of you breathing heavily, Wade rested his forehead against yours, his hands still holding you as if afraid you might pull away.

“You sure you want this?” he asked quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m… not exactly the easiest guy to be with.”

You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over the rough skin where his stubble had started to grow in. “Wade, I’ve wanted this for a long time. I know what I’m getting into.”

He closed his eyes, exhaling a shaky breath. “I just… I don’t want to screw this up.”

You smiled softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead before looking into his eyes. “You won’t. I’m not going anywhere.”

The vulnerability in his gaze made your heart ache. Wade had always been the guy who covered everything with a joke, the man who never let anyone too close. But now, here he was—completely open, trusting you with the parts of him he’d never shown anyone else.

You guided him toward the bed, the two of you moving slowly, every step filled with intent. Wade’s hands slid up your back, fingers trembling slightly as they traced over the curves of your body. His usual confidence was still there, but it was gentler, more tentative.

When you reached the edge of the bed, you gently pushed him down, straddling his lap as you kissed him again. This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate. Your hands tangled in his hair as his lips moved against yours, and the feeling of him beneath you, warm and solid, made a wave of heat pool in your stomach.

Wade’s hands rested on your hips, squeezing gently as he pulled you closer, and when you broke the kiss to look at him, his eyes were darker, filled with something deeper than lust—something like adoration.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he whispered, his voice thick.

You smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to his jaw. “So are you.”

You could feel his breath hitch as your lips brushed over his skin, his grip on you tightening as you began to slowly unbutton his shirt. There was a quiet intimacy in the moment, something that made everything feel right, like this was exactly where you were meant to be.

When his shirt fell open, exposing the hard planes of his chest, you trailed kisses down his neck, savoring the way his body tensed beneath your touch. Wade was usually the one in control, always one step ahead with his quick wit and faster hands, but now, he was letting you take the lead, letting you guide this moment.

“I want you,” you whispered against his skin, and you felt him shudder beneath you.

Wade’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze locking onto yours. There was something vulnerable in the way he looked at you, something raw and unguarded. “Are you sure?”

You smiled softly, your hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

For the first time, Wade didn’t crack a joke, didn’t try to deflect with humor. Instead, he kissed you again, slower this time, savoring every second. His hands moved over your body, reverent and gentle, and when he whispered your name against your lips, it felt like a promise.

The night unfolded between you, slow and unhurried, each touch filled with meaning, each kiss a reminder that this was more than just a fling. Your bodies moved together with an unspoken understanding, a gentle rhythm that mirrored the years of friendship, trust, and quiet longing that had always simmered beneath the surface. There was no urgency, no need to prove anything—just the overwhelming intimacy of being close, of knowing that this moment wasn’t just about passion, but connection. You could feel it in the way Wade held you, his touch tender and almost hesitant, as if he was afraid of breaking the spell.

When you finally collapsed together, bodies entwined beneath the sheets, Wade pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapped around you as if he was afraid to let go.

“You still here?” he whispered, his voice hoarse, but there was a smile in it.

You nodded, resting your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “Still here.”

And in that moment, you knew you always would be.

#wade wilson #deadpool #answered asks #LibrasThoughts #wade wilson x fem reader #wade wilson x reader #deadpool x reader #deadpool x fem reader #deadpool 2016 #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #ryan reynolds #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #mcu comics #Wade Wilson Needs a Hug #implied smut

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monosanimegenericzone · 4 months ago

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Hunter x Hunter: Conspiracy theory

this is a big leap and a reach and feeds my narrative satisfaction.

and it involves HEAVY troupe copium and apologist things of that nature.

you've been warned. proceed with a grain of salt.

(also gonna. put it under a break bcs this got long as hell XD)

I think the troupe was not solely responsible for the kurtan massacre and are on the Black Whale 1 to show the one responsible that they aren't going to continue to protect his clean record.

allow me to explain, starting with yorknew.

so i have had this theory knocking around in my head that the yorknew auction was meant to be a sort of finale or huge thing. because that was a big deal right, that's the world mafia they're pissing off.

AND it was weird bcs chrollo wanted everything at the auction. the troupe calls him out on that. and since we all know chrollo is a theatrical bastard, there is a meaning behind everything so this is no different.

so why does he want to declare war on the world mafia.

here's what we know.

meteor city was selling their own people to the mafia for a guarantee of safety from the black market. we don't know if these people went willingly or not but it was why the mafia didn't want to continue to pursue the troupe. the connection between meteor city and the world mafia was very important.

we know a few things changed between the troupe flashback and present day.

a) the troupe gained a reputation. until yorknew, apparently no one knew they were from meteor city.

b) the elders learned how to use nen. at the very least, we know of one counteractive nen ability that was used to protect the city's citizens from unfair indictment. there were probably more but we dont know for sure.

c) the mafia had gotten really comfortable with their connection with meteor city, now relying more on the city than the city relied on it.

chrollo was the one who most likely set up this relationship. it was his promise to set up the city as a hub for criminals so that he could personally witness and sift through the absolute scum of the earth to find sarasa's killers.

so based on all of this:

Yorknew City was meant to be the start of chrollo's grand finale to tear down the criminal infrastructure in meteor city.

but, things happened. and he got his ass beat.

POINT IS: Chrollo organizes his attacks with purpose.

.... SO WHY THE FUCK IS THIS DUMBASS TRYING TO ATTACK THE KAKIN FUCKING EMPIRE.

"attack" being an exaggeration but cmon. stealing from is the same thing as coming over and spitting in their food.

here's where the conspiracy theory comes in.

what if the kurta massacre wasn't exclusively done the troupe.

yes this is the part with the troupe apologist bullshit but hear me out. i have something interesting to share.

so at this point we know the troupe doesn't do petty theft anymore. this isn't just a "hey the kakin empire is rich. lets rob them :D" job. chrollo on a mission.

i saw this on twitter and a single post led down this downward spiral. (images are linked to the post)

so these pages stood out to me. the troupe never starts fights? that sounds stupid. sound goofy even.

but it's true.

or, phrased correctly, the troupe doesn't start fights they don't know how to finish. since chrollo is the head, they all function as his limbs, meaning they share his mentality when approaching combat: he will not take fights he can't guarantee he will win.

that being said, as shown in the pages above, they will ALWAYS pick up the gauntlet. if someone picks a fight with THEM, the entire gang will spin the block. aint no one surviving.

in the succession war arc, they were framed for the murder of a char-r member because luini was a toxic fan.

so here's the hypothetical: what if the troupe was framed for the kurta massacre?

we know their hands aren't clean. uvo, chrollo, phinks and pakunoda all recall the killing, so that's evidence they were there for it.

here's some things I don't understand about the event though.

a) the kurta were supposedly super well hidden, to the point that when kurapika was shown in vol 0/the phantom rouge, there were tribe traditions that forbade anyone that couldn't hide their eyes properly from going outside of the village. this was like. i think 1 year or so before the massacre.

b) when exactly did the eyes become relevant to body part collection? if it is believed that the troupe attacked the clan for the money that the eyes sell for, that means there must have been some already on the market. we dont get confirmation of this

c) how was a process for preserving magic eyes conceived at this time? im flabbergasted.

leaning mostly on point b, the kurta clan must have had previous victims of their scarlet eyed members getting got. which leads to point a, heightened protection of the kurtans with scarlet eyes.

but, as is anything in the hxh world, if there is something rare, there will always be a market for it.

now keep in mind what i said before: the troupe never picks up fights unless they know they can win and unless there's an ulterior motive. money doesn't matter to them, neither does infamy. at this point they're grade A bounties so yeah, neither of those things mean jack shit.

so i raise the idea that was in that twitter post: what if someone framed the spiders for the massacre and they took it in stride. that's free street cred, of course they claim ownership.

but let's go back and analyze, because who in their right mind would pick these randoms.

the kakin empire would. or someone associated with a high seat of power that can't afford to be tainted with something like genocide.

let's look at fourth prince tserreidnich.

im not saying he specifically pointed the finger at the spiders, but he was most likely the benefactor that wanted the scarlet eyes in the first place. he would stop at no means and he lets his people handle the dirty work.

he even has a damn head that is probably also kurtan.

so let's go out on a limb and say that tserreidnich ordered a party of mercenaries to track down the kurta clan so he could expand his collection. but, obviously, the group can't take the blame, so they pin it on the troupe or claim to be the troupe.

and because the troupe was wronged all of those years ago, chrollo is now aiming a full frontal assault against the kakin empire. hisoka is just a side quest. chrollo *remembers* how he was wronged.

so to recap. here's how the theory says the story goes.

the phantom troupe is in lukso province for whatever reason. probably to target the large movement of body part collectors to the region or something completely unrelated.

the 4th prince's team moves into the kurta village and starts taking the eyes. the kurtans successfully fight back and demand to know who they are. they answer, "we're the spiders"

and the kurtans, now hell bent on revenge for their fallen, seek out the troupe and pick a fight. and the troupe being the troupe, pick up the gauntlet no questions asked.

(alt. the kurtans seek out a powerful ally in the troupe to fight back against what we assume are trained human hunters and when they fail, beg to be killed as well)

chrollo at the time doesn't question the interaction. it was a gang of violent vagabonds trying to right a wrong that the troupe didn't even participate in.

it bothers him, just a little bit, that someone would try to frame the troupe for an atrocity that they didn't do. sure, it fit their narrative and added to their reputation, but it bothers him that someone out there had used their name.

but come yorknew, he's confronted with a surviving kurta. and the problem resurfaces.

he has his hands full trying to reroute the course of the yorknew heist and has to cut a lot of his plans short. he still completed his goal and started the process of severing ties between the mafia and meteor city.

but now the kurta are a problem in his life again and once he gets that damn chain out of his chest, he has two things to focus on:

a) getting away from hisoka to gather abilities

b) figuring out how to deal with kurapika

he remembers the kurta and is totally okay with shouldering the blame for their elimination. but that means that he's clearing the name of someone else for free.

and he doesn't do shit for free.

since he doesn't have to worry about meteor city immediately (the 10 dons are dead and the world mafia is in shambles), he can move onto bigger fish.

right now, his goal is to figure out the truth behind the kurtan massacre. and his search leads him to 4th prince tserriednich. a man in possession of eyes that the troupe didn't sell and way more than the 36 total that *should* be on the market.

THAT is why chrollo is picking a fight with the kakin empire. THAT is why he is on the black whale one. he's here to settle a 7 year old score, and if he can take hisoka down at the same time? good for him.

anyway thats my crazy conspiracy theory. there are some wrinkles in here that may be defied by canon reveals later in the story.

but damn would this make sense for why chrollo is on that damn boat. bcs i know he isn't stupid enough to send the ENTIRE TROUPE on a suicide mission just for hisoka.

so unless we get a reveal of something else substantial, this is what i'm working with.

#hxh #insane yap #deranged behavior #hxh conspiracy theory #phantom troupe #succession war #chrollo #idk what else to tag but i cannot stress enough that this is 70% delusion #if you read that whole thing #how are you still sane #and also thank you for listening to my yap

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sameschmidtdiffname · 11 months ago

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I’m so fond of Soft for her Loved Ones Katniss and a Peeta who knows his grumpy wife is the soft one. I think that he always knew she was soft since he saw her with Prim, and that was part of him realizing she loved him. “She lets me get away with murder and my smile and baby blues get me anything”.

On a serious note, I do feel like during their growing back together period, Katniss is just so incredibly gentle and careful with Peeta when she can be. Like when they get close enough they're back to spending every day (every hour, every minute) together again Peeta has to barely suggest something before Katniss is up and running to get it for him. He nics himself once with an exacto knife during a project and Katniss is suddenly all "Doctor Everdeen" again and Peeta 'never had genuine care and affection growing up' Mellark, who somewhat remembers how she used to care for him pre-hijacking, is just slowly melting at every fret and touch, just watching her care with the biggest, lovesick puppy eyes he's ever had because it was tortured out of him to remember how nice it feels to be genuinely cared for.

I feel like this is even more exaggerated by the fact that after Mockingjay Katniss and Peeta I think switch some aspects of their personality. Like I would imagine Peeta is more akin to Katniss at the beginning of the series with falling in love now because he's very skeptical even though he can now remember how he used to feel, but that's like a completely different person in his head almost, so it's more a theory than a memory. So everytime Katniss is kind or loving to him at first he's nice about everything while internally semi distrustful of the whole thing, and definitely not fond of the idea of allowing himself to be vulnerable. Meanwhile Katniss has switched to needing validation and affection so bad it hurts, but knowing she can't demand it because that's not fair to Peeta so she just pours as much love as she feels she's allowed into all of her actions without trying to reveal her state of longing for him because she's just glad he's returned to her period. It doesn't have to be romantic.

I also feel like this would apply to when Katniss has nightmares and Peeta eventually begins comforting her via physical touch. I think it would be extremely obvious how touch starved Katniss is post-Mockingjay even though she tries to hide it for Peetas sake, and eventually Peeta just can't handle not doing whatever he can to help ease her mind, even if it's just holding her hand (which helps a lot) until all the subdued feelings just come pouring out that night they finally confess while tangled in their bedsheets.

Once they're well settled into their relationship? Peeta is 1000% abusing his husband privileges. One time he's three days into a painting project, there's acrylics all over the floor and Katniss tries to clean up but Peeta is insistent that it's fine because once they dry he can just scrape them off the floor with a washcloth. No, really honey, I used to do this all the time, as he pushes her quickly out the door of his study because he's way too invested to chit-chat and wants her to be surprised by the work anyways (he likes the praise from her seeing it go from a rough sketch to a full blown painting, especially since it's turned into a where's Waldo situation of her looking for themselves in his paintings.) And then he goes to clean up the paint himself only to realize this is really nice paint that has stained really nice Capitol-grade imported wood and it is not coming out. Katniss is fully aware of what happened the minute Peeta comes home rambling quickly about these "wonderful rugs Effie had" and "I just had to get one for the house" because "It's good luck" and he'll tell her about it some other time, he's gotta get this rug upstairs. Ignore any bumps you hear! (She does not. The bump is Peeta falling down the stairs cuz his prosthetic glitched and between the giant woven rug and his natural clumsiness that fucker went down.) But she doesn't say anything because he has this stupid smile as he presents her with three paintings and a basket of cheese rolls because he just loves her so much, that's all.

Then there's one time a load of laundry goes missing and Peeta is just insistent that the clothes must be in some odd corner unwashed, even though she could've sworn she put that load in the wash. So for two weeks straight she's just constantly thinking about this load, sometimes getting out of bed in the midst of the night when she can't sleep anyways to look for the damn clothes because they're obviously somewhere. Clothes don't move. But then her husband starts asking her to give up, they'll pop up sooner or later, and she's starting to wonder why he's baking so much bread. Like, lots of bread. Bread with cheese, or honey, or nuts. Just constantly kneading dough in their kitchen while chewing on his bottom lip, lost in thought. And at first she's convinced she's actually losing it. Maybe she's starting to have black out episodes. Is that even possible? To do something and just have absolutely no memory of the event at all? What if she starts hurting people during these episodes? What if she's already hurting people while she's in these episodes?? And that's why Peeta is so nervous now???

She's got an appointment with Dr. Aurelius next week, she'll bring it up to him. Peeta is definitely hiding something from her. But then one day after she comes home from her hunting trip, longing for her favorite sweater instead of the one she's wearing today, Peeta is beaming in the kitchen saying he found the load and it's all washed and hung up in the closet. "Oh, it was just behind the washer! Who knows how it got there."

Except Katniss knows she checked behind the washer. Three times, actually. And Peeta doesn't smile like that naturally. So she's not crazy, and Peeta has got something going on. So, when they go to bed that night, Katniss waits for three hours before she finally slips out of bed, knowing he's too konked out at this point to notice her missing and sneaks into his study to see what all could be in there. And after an hour of looking, she doesn't find anything, and now she feels bad for suspecting something and going through her husband's things. She's about to click off the light when she notices a bottle of oil paint missing in a set she'd bought for Peeta a little while ago for his birthday. And things start clicking together. Because first off, he doesn't go through paints that fast. Second off, even if he does, he never throws away the bottles. Like, ever. There is an entire drawer filled with empty bottles and such of paint and other supplies partially because Peeta needs to remember the names or brands, and partially because Peeta hates the idea of potentially wasting something unless he is fully convinced it's done. Which he never is.

It takes one day before he confesses, and when he does it's because Katniss casually mentions how her favorite sweater doesn't seem to have an old snag from when her ring caught on the yarn and nearly ripped a hole in the arm. And that's how she finds out Peeta accidently left a poorly closed bottle of azure blue paint in his pants pocket and not even Effie had been able to save the load, so she helped him reorder everything. Thus why he's been stress baking. And Katniss is way too entertained to be mad because at this point, there's no better reprimand than the one Peeta has given himself.

But idk tho. I don't think about them much :)

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eversionimpulse · 15 days ago

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How We Learned to Front on Command (and maybe you can too!)

a post by Naomi (she/her) about how we use voice and body language to control who's fronting

When we first realized that we were plural, back in 2014, we had no control whatsoever over who was fronting. There was no way of passing the baton back and forth, not that either of the alters who existed at that time would have wanted to. We didn’t have amnesia about each others’ experiences, but we essentially lived separate lives that intersected with each other at random. One alter would front for a long time, and then a random circumstance in our life would force the other one to the front, who would front until she was forced out. Things continued like this for a while. One of the alters was much more active than the other anyways.

Around 2018, we first started trying to actively pass fronting back and forth. We would do it by thinking very hard at each other, by getting into situations the other would want to front in, or occasionally by trying what was basically a summoning ritual. The first method was unreliable, the second method was a lot of work, and the third method took too much time and too much obviously weird behavior to be used in most social situations. Things continued like this for a while, too, until life circumstances led one of those two alters to suppress the other entirely for a couple years.

In 2020, our relationship to plurality changed quite a bit. The temporary singlet we had become realized she was miserable that way, and tried to mentally reach out to where the other alter had once been. In response, I began to exist. I’m not the alter she was reaching out to (who was at that point definitively gone), but I had a lot of her traits, especially at first. It was a messy awakening, and again we mostly switched based on circumstances or with considerable mental effort. However, after a while, I noticed my mannerisms starting to become noticeably my own. This is where we had a bit of a breakthrough.

I had the thought that I liked being different, and that it would be nice to assign mannerisms more strongly to each of us: voices and body language, mainly. So I set about deciding what kind of voice I’d like to have, and she decided what kind she’d like to have. I developed a low, languid, fry-heavy style of speech with a lot of intonation to it. She spoke as fast as she could think, with lots of vocal pauses and a more casual, breezy tone. I caught myself making poised and calculated movements, hip-driven and limp-wristed. She lurched through her day a little off-balance, letting her full strength fall where it may. One day, she tried to imitate the way I moved, only to discover that after a second or two, it was no longer her imitating, but me fronting. That’s how we figured it out.

So, to stop being coy about it, here’s the idea: by deliberately attaching different vocal and physical (and typing) mannerisms to different alters, by noticing the differences between us and cultivating or exaggerating them, we’ve trained ourselves to front on command, and I think that perhaps you can too. The way I see it, we’ve managed to anchor mannerisms so firmly into our individual personalities that to perform the mannerisms of an alter is to be that alter. Except in situations where one of us is really having a hard time fronting (or isn’t willing to), imitating another alter will bring that alter to the front.

You can think about it like an actor getting into character, which brings me to the actual technical advice. My number one piece of advice is to develop ways of moving or speaking that, at least to you, make each of your alters really feel like themselves. At first this will feel like clumsy exaggeration, and probably like you're just pretending, but once you get a feel for it you’ll be able to settle into something more natural. Whichever behaviors or vocal tones you want to use as a switching trigger should be ones that are fairly distinct to each alter and not shared by others. If you don’t have those, then make them up! Try out different characteristic voices and behaviors until each of your alters finds at least one thing that makes them feel like themselves.

It can really help in this case to use specific anchor phrases, usually paired with a gesture. I’ll run through our anchors here as an example. The anchor we use to bring Cass to the front is to sigh, slouch our shoulders, and wince out “sure” in the sort of breathy growl he tends to speak in. For Jules, we perk our head up as if noticing something, take a deep breath, and let out a higher-pitched, friendly “yeah!” on the exhale as if we’ve been asked for a favor. For me, we roll our head back and forth, cracking our neck, then shake the tension out of our upper body, find a comfortable pose with our shoulders back, and go “hmmm” nice and deep. Elise is new as of writing this, but for now it seems like we can get it to front by ceasing to try to make any facial expression at all, looking directly at a (real or imagined) conversation partner, and giving a monotone “hello.” And for Marceline, we tuck our elbows in tight to our sides, press our knees together, and say “ok” in her distinctively nasal voice. We don’t always do this full routine in order to switch, but it’s the guaranteed version we rely on if we can’t do it either by thinking at each other or with just vocal tone. Yours don’t have to look exactly like this either. You could use smaller or larger gestures than we do, or you could use full sentences as anchors. Ours are one word because they’re essentially out-loud responses to having been silently asked to front.

So, why learn to do this? I’m sure the idea of switching on demand, for readers who can’t already do it, probably sounds pretty appealing. But just to spell it out: this helps us make sure that in situations where one alter feels safer than another, or where one alter’s skills are more valuable than another, we get to decide who is there and experiencing that situation. It lets me front in situations where we need to be confident and assertive, it lets Marceline front when we’re in pain and need to avoid using up our limited energy, it lets Cass make small talk with strangers in public. It can also help to make sure than an alter who is getting distressed can switch out and cool off instead of having a meltdown. But it also has some unexpected benefits- developing distinctive voices and mannerisms on purpose can keep us from bleeding into each other or merging at times when the boundaries between us are getting porous. It also means that people we trust enough that they’ve spent time with all of us tend to eventually start recognizing who’s fronting without having to be told, which is a tremendously affirming feeling once it starts happening. Not only is it a useful tool, but it also makes us feel more like our own people. The cooperative aspect of this technique has made it easier for us to remember that we’re a team, too. It’s a nice feeling.

One question remains: when doesn’t this work? For us, it tends to be less effective when the alter being imitated is in a particularly unstable state, either emotionally or in terms of identity. We can also fall out of practice with it if we don’t use it openly for a while due to social isolation, even if it’s just relative isolation from people around whom we feel safe being openly plural. It comes back with practice, though. For others, we’re not sure how possible this technique is for systems who have significant amnesia between alters. I suspect it may also be less effective for systems who tend to go very long stretches of time without switching. Plurality is so varied and experiences with it so individualized (it is, after all, your life) that it’s really hard to say how well what works for us will work for others. If you try it out, though (or if you already do something like this), I’d love to hear about it! Tell me how well it works, how it feels, what your most exciting discoveries have been. This especially extends to systems whose experience of plurality differs dramatically from ours (number of alters, degree of separation, degree of amnesia). I’d love to know if systems unlike ours can use something like this, or if not, what it was like to try anyways.

#longposting #pluralposting

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