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queen-of-gotham · 2 months ago

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Chapter Two: Half a year

Word Count: 3,165

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

It had been almost a month since the Aizawa’s began keeping Haru for Hizashi while he worked and went to school. It had created a lovely routine for him in the mornings. Get up, get ready, get Haru ready, drop her off with the Aizawa’s, and walk to school with Shota, meeting up with Oboro along the way. He wasn’t working himself into the ground any longer, although he spent as much of his time working during the summer break as he could and was still able to afford diaper, wipes, and formula, along with putting a bit back for a rainy day.

But tonight him and the boys were going to be taking Haru to her first festival, and Hizashi was excited to see his daughters eyes light up at the sight of fireworks for the first time.

He fiddled with the baby carrier on his front before loading Haru in, chest to chest with him, her hair finally long enough to pull into two small ponytails on either side of her head.

Haru cooed and smacked her hands and against him, grasping the golden chain around his neck and carefully pulling it to her mouth to chew on. That was a thing she did now, immediately try to put everything in her mouth. Hizashi was just glad the baby wasn’t on the move yet and he didn’t have to be too worried about what she may try to choke herself on.

Carefully and quietly, he left his bedroom, diaper bag backpack on his back as he headed to the front door stopping only for a moment to glance at his parents in the living room. He missed how things were with his parents before his daughter arrived in his life, their relationship becoming more strained as the baby grew it seemed. Ultimately however, they didn’t charge him rent and he could come and go as he pleased. They never asked or seemed to care about what he was up to. Slipping out the front door he began his short trek to Oboro’s where the three friends had planned to meet up beforehand.

The street was filled with food stalls and shopping booths. People chatting and laughter as the group wandered about, snacking on yakisoba and stopping at the occasional booth.

“Yo, let me see Haru real quick!” Oboro said excitedly, not really waiting for Hizashi to give him an answer before he pulled the baby out of the carrier and took her to look at fish in these little bowls you could win if you played the game. Hizashi watched how Oboro held his daughter, one hand under the girls butt and the other firmly on her chest as he leaned her down to look at the fish swimming round and round.

Now, if Hizashi had been a bit smarter he would have realized his friend running with his baby wasn’t to show the infant the fish, but to capture the attention of a couple of girls that were hanging out by the game, and when Oboro’s fingers gently tickled the babies ribs causing a wave of laughter, garnering the girls attention who walked over to him and he began to flirt.

“Is he using my baby as a pick up line?” Hizashi asked curiously, leaning over to Shouta as the pair watched the scene in front of them.

“Looks like it.” Shouta said back, watching as one of the girls bent over to talk to Haru. “Do we stop him?”

“I- don’t know.” Hizashi stated back, unsure of his feelings on the situation as he leaned his arm onto Shouta’s shoulder, the carrier on his front feeling awkward without the baby inside it. “On one hand he’s not doing anything wrong. Just using her as a conversation piece.”

Shouta hummed, his thoughts processing, before they could finish however Oboro was back, Haru’s back pressed to his chest as her little legs kicked excitedly.

“Babies are chick magnets man!” Oboro said excitedly looking down at the baby in his arms* “Haru just got Uncle Oboro a date with that hot girl, you should really be using this thing to your advantage, man.”

Hizashi furrowed his brows at his friends comment. “It’s not like I have time to date, Oboro… and even if I did I have things I’ve got to focus on. I’ll worry about dating when she’s older.”

Shouta took Haru from Oboro, holding her on his hip, not nearly as stiff and awkward as he had been when he first held the girl a few months prior. “She’s not an object to be used for your own gain,”

“Lighten up man, it’s just a date!” Oboro said waving off Shouta’s concern before turning back to Hizashi. “And at least we know I won’t be dying a virgin, dude.”

This comment pulled a rare laugh from Shouta and a perplexed look from Hizashi, who simply motioned over to the baby in Shouta’s hold.

“I have literal proof I am not a Virgin, my guy.”

The group found themselves settled into a spot on the riverbank, with an almost perfect view of the fireworks that would be starting momentarily. Hizashi patted his daughters butt through the carrier as she dozed against his chest, her little hand wrapped around the necklace on his neck.

“Man, she’s knocked.” Oboro stated, gently running his hand over Haru’s head. “She’s going to miss the fireworks.”

Hizashi shrugged a bit. “She’s usually in bed well before now. I’m surprised she held on as long as she did.”

Shouta’s eyes lingered on Hizashi and the way he stared so lovingly at his daughter before joining in on the conversation. “It’s not as if she’d remember them anyway. Maybe next year.”

The first firework went up capturing the groups attention, the blast that sounded following it as the pretty colors floated down… and the loud scream the followed from Hizashi’s chest. He jumped a bit, startled by the sudden crying from the baby that had just been sound asleep, as another few blasts echoed through the air, and Haru tried to bury her small face into Hizashi’s chest as the sounds from the fireworks scared her, something he hadn’t even considered would be a problem. He quickly covered her ears trying to muffle the sounds while simultaneously trying to shush the small baby comfortingly.

“Maybe we should go-“

He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before an older woman approached the dumbigos with a stern look on her face.

“You should be ashamed, bringing your little sister out here with those fireworks going off! Your parents left you at home with her for a reason, not so that you could go gallivanting with your friends and subject your poor baby sisters ears to such harsh noises!”

“Um, ma’am. This is our child. Not his sister.” Oboro said firmly, putting his arm around Hizashi’s shoulder and guiding him away, leaving the older woman stunned and bit speechless.

“Oboro! That old lady probably thought y’all were gay.” Mr. Shirakumo said, bouncing Haru on his knee as she laughed a bit.

Mrs. Shirakumo sat back, watching her husband with the small baby and smiled. “Serves her right. I never understood why old women choose to insert themselves into other peoples lives like that. She’s probably still wondering how two teenaged boys managed to have an infant.”

Mr. Shirakumo laughed and nodded, agreeing with his wife as the boys sat on the floor and chatted.

“More like three guys and a baby.” Oboro stated before taking a drink of his juice and his friends rolled their eyes. “We’d be like one of those… polygon relationships.”

“Polygamists.” Hizashi corrects Oboro.

“No. It’s polyamory. We’d be polygamists if we all got married to each other.” Shouta corrects

“Oh! That would work, you’d boys would be great son in laws!” Mrs. Shirakumo says, clapping her hands together, drawing another laugh out of her husband.

“And we’d get a cute granddaughter out of the deal!”

“She’s already your granddaughter. That’s my child.” Oboro tells his father, pointing at Haru.

“She’s literally my child, O.” Hizashi says giving his friend a confused look.

“Nah. We’re all her dads. She’ll call you dad because you birthed her-“

“I literally didn’t, yo.”

“-She’ll call me papa, and she can call Shouta… father or something.”

“I’m not her father.” Shouta blandly protests, but Oboro simply keeps talking. “I didn’t sign up for that.”

“You did when you decided to be friends with Hizashi and I… face it. One of us has a baby then we all have a baby.”

“Well none of you boys better be having anymore babies until you’re at least in your twenties.” Mr. Shirakumo says, adjusting Haru in his arm as she starts to doze off. “Trust me. This girl is going to give you boys a run for your money as it is.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m not having anymore. Haru is enough. I’m already convinced I’m never sleeping again.” Hizashi says with a yawn, slumping over onto the floor.

“Ah, you won’t sweetie. Oboro is 15 now and I still haven’t had a good nights sleep since he was born.” Mrs. Shirakumo says, and Hizashi groans a bit, succumbing to the idea that sleep was simply as figment of his imagination for the rest of his life.

Haru had been fussy for days. There was no appeasing the four and half month old. Hizashi had tried everything he could think of and every trick in the book. He was sleeping in short increments and while his friends had helped a bit, he still wasn’t sleeping all great, too nervous to leave her anywhere without him.

So after hours of scouring the internet, a suggestion he hasn’t tried peaked his interest. The beach. Since he was lucky enough to not live too far from one, he packed up Haru in her carrier on his chest decided to give it a try.

The sounds of the waves crashing in on the shore brought a calmness over Hizashi’s nerves, he ditched his shoes at the concrete, taking Haru out of her carrier and ditching it by his shoes. She was still fussing, not quite crying but obviously not happy. He held her on his hip as his feet sunk into the sand, and no sooner than he was two feet deep, she was silent, her big green eyes focusing on the ocean and small smile dancing on her lips.

Apparently the ocean brought her the same peace it did him. He walked forward, closer to the waves before carefully lowering his daughter down to let her little toes touch the sand, still warm from the summer sun earlier in the day despite it now setting behind the ocean.

Haru giggled, as she quickly pulled her legs up and away from the sand before slowly lowering her feet back down, repeatedly doing this as her giggles swirled with the sound of the ocean. Hizashi sat down in the sand, holding his daughter against him as she sat in the sand, little hands grasping the sand and giggling as it fell between her fingers.

“I’m glad you’re laughing again, kid… you’ve been so grumpy the past few days.”

Hizashi watched his daughter as she explored the sand, her eyes occasionally wandering up to the water crashing in on the shore, a large smile on her face as she played. It was moments like these that Hizashi reveled in, his laughter loud and jovial like his daughters.

He spent a lot of time questioning if he was doing the right things, making good choices, if he could really raise her to be happy. He didn’t particularly care what she wanted to do; who she wanted to be. So Iong as she was truly happy and mostly kind.

The summer came and went and before dumbigos knew it, UA’s second term was in full swing.

“Man, this sucks.” Oboro complained, running fingers back through his blue hair as he slumped over his desk.

Shouta leaned back in his chair, while Hizashi clicked his mechanism pencil, head resting on the palm of his hand. The three of them having been assigned to do a project on a current hero and their rise in the public eye.

“We need to agree on someone.” Shouta stated in his typical monotone voice.

“You guys think one day a class is going to have to do a project on us?” Hizashi question, now doodling small music notes in the byline of their rough draft.

“Maybe… maybe one day Haru will be sitting on this seat and it’s going to be so easy for her cause her dads are the coolest heroes on the scene.” Oboro states back, using a school laptop to scroll through possible source material as he spoke.

“Me and you aren’t her dads, Oboro.” Shouta says once more, starting to feel as if this was going to be a common conversation, and it was already tiring him out.

“We’re her dads.” Oboro says, not leaving room for argument. “I can already see her, sittin there where ‘zashi is, a couple cool friends at her side, writing about how we started as lowly teen father, raising her by themselves and we didn’t give up an-“

“Shut up.” Shouta’s eyes roll before Hizashi starts speaking.

“I mean, I love that you love my kid, man. But if you’re going to say your her dad do you at least want to buy some diapers or something. Stop being a deadbeat.”

Oboro’s face drops dramatically, his hand resting over his heart as he feigned hurt. “Hizashi, how dare you. I show up for our baby at least twice a week! That’s more than what’s her name!”

“I don’t think playing with her and handing her back to Hizashi when she starts crying counts as ‘showing up’” Shouta states to Oboro.

“Man, you guys are mean!”

Hizashi’s bedroom door was shut, per usual. When he and Haru were home they pretty much stayed locked up in his room. His relationship with his parents hadn’t gotten better, if anything it was simply dwindling to nothingness.

He sat on his bed, guitar in his lap as he practiced a song that Shouta had mentioned liking a couple months ago. Haru’s little head peaked up from the blanket on his floor at the sound his strumming, loud baby babbles falling from her lips, making Hizashi smile.

“You singing along, baby girl?” He asked her with a smile on his own face. Haru had start babbling a lot more, making noises and using her voice, making him wonder what she was going to sound like as she got older. Would it stay higher pitched? Would she really enjoy singing and music the way he did? His mind often wandered to her future and unfortunately, it often wandered to her. To Amber.

What was she doing? Did she miss Haru and ever wonder about her? If she did surely she would call… unless maybe she was stalking his social media accounts and he didn’t know. Could she be doing that? He made a mental note to lock down his profiles if they weren’t already. He was still pissed at her for abandoning Haru, and free images of watching her grow up wasn’t something Hizashi wanted to give her willingly. He often wondered if Haru would miss out on having a mother. If having him and his two best friends would some neutralize having an absent mom.

No matter the case, he was going to try his hardest to keep his daughter happy, to make sure the trauma she suffered from the abandonment of her mother was minimal at best, and he promised himself he’d do everything in his power to maintain a healthy relationship with his kid. He’d be damned if he let himself turn into his mom and dad. He wasn’t sure which was worse. Amber peacing out without a trace or his parents pretty much ignoring his and his child’s existence when he needed them most.

Haru pulled her little legs under her body, lifting herself up on her hands and knees while Hizashi played his guitar, lost in all the thoughts plaguing his mind, Haru’s baby babbles still coming in waves. One of his strings snapped, the sting in his fingers causing him to look up, pulling him back to reality and to witness the new milestone his daughter reached.

He smiled to himself as his daughter rocked back and forth on her hands and knees, little mouth hung open and long string of drool landing on the blanket. He was still waiting for that first tooth to pop in, she’d been showing signs of teething for a couple months and nothing had broken through the gums yet.

Six months. Half a year he’s gotten to raise his child. Watch her grow, see her hit milestone after milestone, and while it was just another month on the docket, six months felt… big somehow. Maybe it was because he once again stood in the pediatricians office with Haru in nothing but her diaper as she tried to crinkle the paper table cover under her while they waited for her next round of vaccines. Haru blew her lips together, blowing raspberries, her newest trick she picked up from Oboro of course.

Haru was measuring small for her age, but healthy. 13lbs and 22in tall, hitting every milestone she should be and Hizashi was told he could start introducing solid foods to her, which excited him since she was constantly reaching for things on his plate.

“Alright Mr. Yamada, if I can just get you to lay Haru back and hold her hands for me and we will get these mean ole vaccines over with.” The nurse cooed to Haru and Hizashi did as he was told. He hated this part, watching the nurse pinch the fat on her chubby little thighs and watching her little face contort and start crying as the vaccines were administered.

He gently tried to shush his daughter, one hand holding her tiny hands to her chest and the other gently running through her hair.

“You’re doing good, Dad.” The nurse tells him after she administered the vaccines, placing the needles in the safe box on the wall. “Better than most of the grown adults that bring their kids in here.”

Her words cause a proud smile to tug on the corners of Hizashi’s lips. “Thank you ma’am. I appreciate it.”

The nurse smiled warmly at Hizashi as he picked up his daughter and gently soothed her, rubbing her back gently, “take your time and we will see you again at nine months.” The nurse politely reminds him before leaving the room to let him comfort his daughter in peace.

He didn’t need the praise from the staff at this office, but it really did make him feel like he had a handle on this dad thing.

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flowersdiceandlove · 1 year ago

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The burial mounds, a place of mystery, the place of the dead, cannot be comprehended by humans. It is a place warped by time and resentful energy and the intentions of those who inhabit it and who knows what else. It is sentient and has a strong will of its own. It’s said that no one can leave the Burial Mounds, and that is true as much as it’s not. The burial mounds keeps what is theirs; protects what is theirs. No one can escape from the Burial Mounds bc more often than not, once you enter, the Burial Mounds see you as theirs. It does not take well to people hurting and taking what is theirs. (And, maybe this is why a certain demonic cultivator was able to survive and leave that place. Maybe he understood this will and resentment bc he too would do anything to protect those he loves. For him as well, once he considers someone family, they are family. And nothing will change that. No matter what happens, his family is his family, and those under his protection are fully under his protection. They can see a kindred spirit in each other, and so the Burial Mounds let him go, knowing that he will always carry part of the Burial Mounds with him. The souls in his sleeves and the resentful energy he welcomes into his body. The boon that the Burial Mounds grants him.)

It is for these reasons that WWX knows to bring the Wen remnants there. Not only does he know he can defend them if needed in that place teeming with resentment, he knows the Burial Mounds themselves will protect them. It protects its own, and the Burial Mounds knows these people that WWX brought are his, so they are its. It’s as simple as that. And, the Burial Mounds likes it. It likes having these people here, milling about and carving a life on it. It likes how they turns its soil from barren to fruitful. It likes how they are happy and content. It likes being their home and haven. It will do anything to protect them.

When the first siege comes, the Burial Mounds try to protect what is theirs. These people who have made a home on it. But, they are all grieving deeply, and it’s beautiful child, the first to even understand them and want to make peace with them instead of destroying them, is breaking apart. He is breaking apart with the weight of someone who could not protect that which is most precious to him. And he has been breaking with this weight for months now, every day chipping another piece of himself away, every day pulling further and further into himself, every day driving him just a little more insane. The Burial Mounds have no problem with madness. They will still embrace him fully and without question, but it pains them to see him like this. They are all breaking under the pressure of what the world outside its borders do. This is no longer their haven, but now their place of imminent doom. It is only a matter of time until the cultivators attack. The Burial Mounds fights back as it always does to protect those that are its. But, some of these living cultivators attacking are family of WWX and it cannot attack family. And, it knows that even should he wipe all these harmful intruders out, that will not stop more from coming, and more after that. The Burial Mounds would fight every wave they send, but that is not the issue. The issue is that its people are grieving and breaking. The issue is that it cannot do anything to fix that and every attack will break their spirits just that much more.

So instead, the Burial Mounds decide to change it. As the cultivators pour in, the Burial Mounds pulls its energy from defending and into charging its intention. Some of its people get cut down, but that is fine, it will still work, they do not have to be alive. Just as WWX is about to destroy the Stygian Tiger Amulet (oh, and look at their brave boy, but don’t do that, my child, it will tear you apart) a large pulse of resentful energy ripples out over the battlefield, shaking the ground and seeping into all that is theirs. The air and ground starts to ripple, unstable and warping like swirls of marble, until none can stay standing in this odd happening, toppling over, nauseous from the swirling. Those that are theirs are sucked into the soil, deep into its power, and it embraces them into its depths.

Then—

They open their eyes.

WWX is seven, on the streets of Yiling, and turns his head to the Burial Mounds so close by, calling to him. Come home, my child, it whispers. Come to me; I will protect you.

Wen Ning is eight and Wen Qing 14. They also look in the direction of Yiling—of the Burial Mounds. They too hear the call. There are gasps rippling around their home, and people bursting through doors, embracing each other, crying in joy. Eyes flick around at everyone. They know. All those that were on the Burial Mounds, as well as Wen Qing and Wen Ning remember. They know what Wen Ruohan is planning. They also know what will happen to their real family.

They go to Yiling. Just a few at first. They lost many people in their branch before they were saved by WWX, and those people are more than hesitant to go to that cursed place. Those that remember can’t simply leave them to their fates again. So, some go, while some stay. They will convince the rest later. When they arrive at the base of the Burial Mounds, there is already a large collapse in the wall surrounding it looking to be made recently. The paths open up for them as they start their ascent. The path is just as they remember, the corpses and spirits howling, but leaving them be. They know they are already part of them. Granny Wen and Wen Qing are at the front of the group, leading the way. Wen Qing wishes her brother was there, but that was not something their parents would budge on. They barely let her go, and only because Granny was insisting as well and promised to look after her.

They reach the clearing where their homes were, and there they are. Their little shacks that barely stay standing. The patches of land they’d tilled and toiled over. And there, perched on a tree stump by the side of the road is a boy, even smaller than A-Ning, covered in dirt and grime that can’t all be from the Burial Mounds, spinning a black, bamboo dizi in his tiny hands. He watches them with shining eyes and a large smile they’d know anywhere breaks out on his face, then—

He laughs. The boy laughs loud and clear and bright as he topples off the stump in his joy. Many of them join in the laughter as well. Amazed and in disbelief. Wen Qing, granny, and a few others rush over to the little Wei Wuxian and pull him into a crushing embrace. The laughter soon turns to wracking sobs as they all cling to each other and let it all sink in.

They are alive. They are together.

And, they will make sure it stays that way.

The Burial Mounds hum around them, welcoming them home.

#now they just need to convince the rest of the dafan wen to move into the burial mounds #and stop a war #but that's secondary to keeping their family safe and together #the burial mounds picked up on lwj and wwx's conection #so it brought him back too #one minuet he's lying in bed his back burning from the discipline whip #the next he's eight years old sitting in class at the cloud recesses perfectly fine and uninjured #it is only his YEARS of beaten in composure and naturally stoic face that keep him from whipping his head around and freaking out outwardly #he just *knows* this has to do w/ wei ying especially since he can hear the call as well #bc of this he's not totally freaking out but still #he goes to the burial mounds as soon as he can and all the wen are either confused like wwx about why he was included in this #or laughing their asses off that even the *burial mounds* have picked up on their strong feelings and connection #(don't worry lwj was the only non-wen to be brought back bc even if wwx considers jc his brother the burial mounds isn't going to bring bac #someone who tried to kill the rest of them and lwj is the only person that didn't live there who didn't have any animosity for them)#(unfortunately bc jyl never went up the mountain and stayed in yiling the burial mounds can't form a connection w/ her to bring her back)#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the grandmaster of demonic cultivation #wei wuxian #wen qing #the burial mounds #sentient burial mounds #time travel au #time travel fix it #mdzs fanfic prompt #mdzs fanfiction prompt #do with this what you will

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colorfuldare · 1 year ago

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FF7 Found Family Fic Recs?

Now that I’ve finished Rebirth I am itching for any found family fics with the group. I am struggling to find any good ones, so anyone have any recs? Preferably fics including Barrett and Red.

Thanks!

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danaens · 57 minutes ago

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SEX AND GOTHAM CITY

EPISODE 2

SILK DRESSES, OLD SCARS… and casual sex

I stumble back from another disorienting Saturday night, the kind where you wake up genuinely grateful you did. The evening was a blur of too many Cosmos and one charming guy named Henry, whose skin smelled like Dior Sauvage and who gave off strong I want to sleep with you energy.

And that’s when I start to wonder: is casual sex still a right… or, in Gotham, has it become a calculated risk, with a survival rate?

In a city where turning the corner might get you killed, the bed of a stranger becomes either a grave… or a cradle of protection from the world outside.

And let’s be honest: here, danger doesn’t discriminate. You could fall into the arms of a sex-addicted maniac, or a nymphomaniac with a taste for bondage and taxidermy.

In doubt, I sacrifice myself, for research purposes, obviously, and end up tangled in the sheets with Mister Henry. Sheets that, fittingly, smell of odd fantasies.

He’s a political activist. Forty something. A fellow journalist who fills columns ranting about how Batman is a fascist and the enemy of democracy. God… maybe being tied up and sodomized would’ve been more fun.

Between one moan and the next… between his gasps of "Justice belongs to the people, not just one tyrant!"…I survive. Unfortunately.

⭒⋆🍸⭒⋆

Henry Fontana, 43, Journalist and Activist, Gotham Gazette: "I don’t do casual sex that often. I don’t just go with anyone. I like interesting women... the ones who can hold a conversation."

(Which doesn’t matter, because he does all the talking)

Cecilia Burleigh, 23, Architecture Student, AUG: Casual sex scares me. I mean, it excites me too, the idea of sleeping with someone who only wants you for that, but also terrifies me. My friends have all ended up in… weird situations.

Lydia Child, 23, Architecture Student, AUG (Cecilia’s friend): "I had a friend-with-benefits thing. Then he fell in love with me, and that was the end of it. With strangers though? One guy once took me to his basement and said he had a kidnapping fetish. He was supposed to be the one kidnapped..."

Dr. Ralph Farnham, 36, Physician at Blackgate: "I have sex every day... sometimes I don’t even pay attention to the face."

Silver St. Cloud: "For me, casual sex is the only kind I have with men. That’s how they should be taken, on top, or when you’re bent over. If there are feelings involved, taking it from behind stops being pleasure and starts being pain."

⭒⋆🍸⭒⋆

As I write this all down, I feel a strange sense of contradiction bubbling up.

I’ve spent years working the streets, met more men than I care to count, and now that it's not work but pleasure, I’m… afraid?

Tonight, the Wayne Foundation is hosting one of those classic “charity” events, where the only charity is the open bar. For my friends and me, it’s Christmas in heels: silk gowns, bad botox, and unlimited Pinot Grigio. Silver is, of course, front and center, clipboard in hand, like the prom queen she never stopped being.

But this year’s invite includes a chilling clause: "Guests are requested to attend with a companion.”

Translated from Gothamesque: if you're single, stay home.

Apparently, Gotham’s elite isn’t ready for “single empowerment.”

Sunday morning. The only mass I attend religiously is brunch at Vesper’s. Her apartment is peak minimalist-chic: cream-colored walls, nude female art, and black fig candles that scream expensive.

Silver dives into the scrambled eggs. "They only write that for show" she says between sips of mimosa, in that voice that sounds like she knows everything and judges nothing. "You don’t *have* to bring a man."

"Well, I’m tired of the formality" I reply. "Why assume I need a plus-one just to walk through the door? This isn’t a gala, it’s a secret society initiation."

Barbara, naturally sarcastic, chimes in with a smirk: "It’s all a ploy. They’re scouting who’s got the genes for fashionable heirs."

I burst out laughing. So hard I spill coffee on my new blouse. Goodbye, vintage Armani-from-a-street-market.

"Bianca!" Vesper gasps, like I’ve just cursed in church. "I actually think it’s cute" she continues, dreamy-eyed. "Assuming everyone has a ‘someone’... it’s kind of romantic."

Silver looks at her like she just suggested reviving the corset. "Honey, half the women those men bring are escorts picked up between Crime Alley and Park Row." She glances at me."And no offense to the escorts. But there’s nothing romantic going on here."

"I met a lawyer the other day" Vesper says, all conspiratorial. "His name is Harvey."

Barbara raises an eyebrow. "Harvey Dent? He’s fifteen years older than you and has double the personalities."

"So what?" Vesper replies. "He invited me to the gala. He’s sweet."

"Again with the dynasty concept..." I mutter, dabbing coffee off my blouse, wondering if baking soda can fix regret.

The day I decide to write about casual sex, I realize that in Gotham, it’s not just a fear, it’s a taboo. At least for the upper crust, who still want you fake, married, and smiling.

⭒⋆🍸⭒⋆

For the gala, I choose a white satin dress and my trusty Afghan jacket. I feel like Penny Lane in a sea of fake James Bonds and bleached-blonde Vesper Lynds.

Cosmo number three. My girls are scattered across the social jungle, probably flirting with predators in tailored tuxedos. I look around. Silver’s right: the escorts are everywhere. And yes, I recognize a few. Gotham is a handkerchief, small, sparkly, and full of gunpowder.

"So drinking’s a vice now?" A voice behind me. Male, familiar..I turn around. It’s him, the guy I ran into the other day.

"I wasn’t drunk" I say, which isn’t a total lie. "I was... dazed. Nothing’s a vice if you do it with awareness."

He laughs. Dangerous smile. This time, in a pinstripe suit that looks guilty on purpose. "So you’re Bianca. The girl who writes about sex. Didn’t recognize you last time." He smirks. "Read your article. The one about vigilantes. It's funny."

"You think vigilantes are funny?"

"No. But you are."

"You should be complimenting my looks, not making me feel like a stand-up clown."

He laughs again. He has a cut on his lip, and that smile,it’s honest. Like it’s the first one in years. "Making someone laugh is a gift. Clowns don’t have it. They just piss me off."

I smile back. It’s somewhere between hard and soft. But only his eyes seem soft. The rest? It’s all armor. He doesn’t smell like Dior or Versace. He smells like tobacco and masculinity, heavy, gritty, real.

"I’m Jason, by the way. Jason Todd" he says, not warmly, but definitely with intent.

"And I’m Bianca Bradshaw. But you already knew that. You look out of place." (It’s the classic line we all say at these parties.)

"I’m family. But still out of place. You? You seem comfortable."

"Comfortable, but not family." I answer honestly. I’ve adapted here, but this world? It’s not like where i came from.

"What are you writing about now?" he asks, bold as ever.

"Casual sex. And how dangerous it is. You know, for a woman, the idea of wanting to sleep with someone but being terrified he’s a psycho..." He sips his bourbon.

"Gotham’s dangerous for everyone."

And there it is,the awkward pause. I’m probably being too shallow. I am charismatic, but I say stupid things. And for once, I don’t know why I’m second-guessing myself. Jason’s interesting. He could be another test subject for my article. But he’s not easy. Getting under his covers seems harder than getting in his head.

Another guy calls out to him, slightly shorter, friendlier, but with those same Gotham-tough eyes.

And just like that… Jason disappears.

⭒⋆🍸⭒⋆

Maybe unlike other women, I'm not afraid of casual sex, I'm afraid of feelings. Whether they are positive or not. I'm afraid of when I'm not the one putting the cards on the table, but there's someone else who mixes them.

So I ask myself In Gotham is casual sex more dangerous or having feelings for someone?

I hope you like this episode, let me know <3 In the next ones I'll try to delve into the other girls too!! I really enjoy writing, I hope you also read.

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september-aster · 1 year ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020), Final Fantasy XV, Compilation of Final Fantasy VII Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Cloud Strife, Prompto Argentum & Cloud Strife, Prompto Argentum & Aerith Gainsborough, Prompto Argentum/Cindy Aurum Characters: Cloud Strife, Aerith Gainsborough, Prompto Argentum, Cindy Aurum, Noctis Lucis Caelum Additional Tags: Multiverse, Parallel Universes, Established Relationship, First Meetings, Meeting the Parents, Crossover, Prompto Argentum Needs a Hug, Aerith Gainsborough Lives, Alternate Reality, Mother-Son Relationship, Family, Meet the Family, Family Reunions, Cloud Strife is a dad, Cloud Strife Is a Little Shit, Prompto Argentum Is a Sweetheart, Prompto Argentum is a Ray of Sunshine, Photographer Prompto Argentum, Magic, Clerith, Prompto Argentum Has A Crush, Aerith Gainsborough is a mother, Dialogue, Family Bonding, Light-Hearted, Father-Son Relationship, aerith is a mother, clerith parents Summary:

This is a story where Cloud and Aerith have a magic stone that allows them to travel through the Final Fantasy Universe, to different timelines and places where their descendants live, like Sora from Kingdom of the Hearts, and Denzel from Advent Children, and now it's time they meet Prompto from FFXV.

In short Cloud and Aerith are Prompto's parents.

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kumori-love · 29 days ago

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Viridian: The Green Guide

By Clouds (myheadinthecoudsnotcomingdown) | Collection: For The Want Of A Nail Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)

After his dream is finally crushed, Izuku isn’t quite sure there’s anything left for him to live for, but...he can’t exactly kill himself either, not without hurting the people he cares the most about. So, when he realizes that the quirkless can’t technically be vigilantes, it seems like the best of both worlds. He’ll be able to save people even without being a hero and, if he happens to die while he’s at it...well, like Kacchan said, maybe he’d be born with a quirk in the next life.

Status: Complete Language: English (Translations Available: Português, Français, Polski, Українська). Words: 272,617 Chapters: 120

Fic Link. Collection: For The Want Of A Nail

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angels-of-neon-and-garbage · 6 months ago

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almost all of my engagement with any batman related media has been through fanfic. i don't know much about it. but i think batman should stop pontificating about the supposed immorality of murdering rapists and shit and start really thinking about the morality of being a fucking billionaire.

#literally everything i know about batman and the family is through fanfic #and i got into batfam fics through spider-man in gotham fics #which is weird because idk anything abt spider-man either like i watched one movie i have no idea how i got into spider-man fics #reading fics about media you know little to nothing about is the best way to see the quality of writing #because your opinion isn't clouded by previous knowledge or attachement to characters

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universalookami · 4 months ago

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wow.. got fifty notes and I love that people like my idea. Now all I need is an author! Low-key thinking of spamming the author clouds who is now writing dp x dc fics.

PLEASE MAKE THIS A THING

This is to all fanfic authors out there!!

I don’t have the time or the talent to write it myself but this needs to happen please??? Here is my idea.

First of all, Danny comes out as Bi to his parents and it goes really well. Seeing how the Fenton parents changed their tune since they were a bit homophobic before he decided that maybe they would be the same about ghosts if they knew he was Phantom. It does not go well. They trap him in the lab and experiment on him, this includes vivisecting him and cutting his vocal cords so he can't scream. When Jaz tries to stop them they think she is possessed and experiment on her as well. Eventually, Jaz is killed by the Fentons, and Danny breaks out and gets injured in Gotham. He feels so guilty and feels that Jaz's death is his fault, ultimately making it so he does not heal himself and injures his core. Now this is where I don't have many ideas. I know that I want Jason to find him and nurse him back to health and they eventually fall in love. Bruce and Dick are dealing with the G.I.W. in Gotham along with the Fenton parents but trying to keep it away from the others because they think thereafter Jason because they are near Crime Ally. Tim and Stephanie are teamed up with Tucker and Sam doing the same thing as Bruce and Dick but since but don't know they are working the same case. Damian, with the youngest Superboy, is just trying to get a zoo of ghost animals, starting with chasing Cujo all over the city. Duke is starting to see ghosts including are rouges from Amity Park. Cass is trying to keep the League of Assassins out of everybody's way. And how did Babs end up shooting Vlad? I don't know but Harly and Ivy think it is hilarious, Alfred less so.

Yeah, so this is my Idea that I will never write and continue to beg other authors to write about it.

P.S. If you are sad Jaz is dead, don't be. In the end of the series it is revealed that she is a ghost now and is the crown regent so Danny can live his life without the worries of having to live in the realm and be king.

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afsosville · 7 months ago

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Yknow what niche sv fanfics I fucking love? All the peak lords as disciples who are ride or die for each other. And I mean all of them thank you very much.

If anyone has recs, then PLEASE

Anyways, here's one dysfunctional and stupid family for you <3

Shen Yuan is the beast taming head disciple, and Mu Qingfang is just a deadass tired med student leave him alone.

And Wei Qingweiiiiiiii I want to make a whole character ref sheet for this dude and he doesn't have any business being a favourite of mine. Bro is the only peak lord that doesn't have a character description in the glossary. Btw if anyone knows what the Wei in Qingwei is pls tell meeee

Just pretend Shen Jiu got rescued early bc of Shen Yuan/Shang Qinghua's influence or smt idk. Pls don't don't follow your nightmares A-Jiu! You only got into this mess coz you did buddy TUT

Rip Yue Qingyuan this is my first time attempting to draw him and it just wasn't working out so I turned him around.

Recs bc I don't gatekeep>>

Shen shixiong by Ourliazo

Dark clouds by Invidia_envy

Close to you by Aledono

For a better day by Midnight_illusi0n

Predator and prey by Cheesie13

Black crow by Zypll

If I knew it all then (would you do it again) by Zypll

From the silence of mountains by Invidia_envy

Concentrated anger in fun-sized frame by Ectocosme

To know you better by Midnight_illusi0n

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charlotteking27 · 2 months ago

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Please stand up if Bruce Wayne was forced to marry the reader and then one day discovered that she was a superhero like him

The Hero's Bride

Bruce Wayne x reader

Summary: You are the daughter of a wealthy businessman forced into a marriage with the prince of Gotham, Bruce Wayne. But secrets within your marriage start unfolding.

Warnings: Sorry, it is not as long as my usual fanfics

It was a field day for the tabloids as Bruce Wayne, their prominent bachelor prince, was getting married to the daughter of a wealthy businessman.

The newspaper reported on the events of the power couple, with your picture and Bruce Wayne's featured prominently in the middle of it all. The headline 'our playboy billionaire finally settling down'

The crystal chandeliers of Wayne Manor cast dancing shadows across the marble floors as Bruce Wayne adjusted his tie for the thousandth time. Another charity gala, another performance of the billionaire playboy. Except tonight was different. Tonight, he was meeting his future wife.

"The arrangements have been made, Master Wayne," Alfred said, his voice carrying its usual mix of concern and dry wit. "Though I must say, agreeing to an arranged marriage seems rather... medieval, even for Gotham's standards."

Bruce's jaw tightened. "The Wayne Foundation's reputation is everything, Alfred. After that disaster with the Gotham Gazette's exposé on my... nocturnal activities, the board thinks a stable relationship might help." He didn't mention how those 'nocturnal activities' involved more timely distractions to uphold his secret.

________________________________________________________

You stood in an elegant emerald evening gown, waiting anxiously to leave and get home, but tonight was different. Tonight, you are meeting your future husband.

The arrangement had come as a surprise. Your father, CEO of one of Gotham's largest tech companies, had presented it as a "mutually beneficial partnership." Bruce Wayne needed to stabilize his public image, and your family needed stronger ties to old-money Gotham. You'd agreed, if only because it provided the perfect cover for your nighttime activities.

Wayne Manor looms before you, gothic architecture stretching toward the clouded sky. Your driver opens the car door, and you step out, automatically scanning the perimeter – old habits die hard. The massive wooden doors swing open to reveal Alfred Pennyworth, Wayne's butler, and behind him, Bruce Wayne himself.

He's more imposing in person than in photos. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp eyes that seem to catch every detail. Including, you notice, the way you've already mapped every exit in the room. Interesting.

"Miss," he says, extending his hand. "Welcome to Wayne Manor."

"Mr. Wayne." Your grip is firm and professional. You notice a faint bruise near his collar, poorly concealed by makeup. Curious. Several things ran through your mind, the obvious one: how much of a playboy Mr. Wayne really was.

The weeks before the wedding pass in a whirlwind of public appearances and private arrangements. Attending numerous galas and other events to show the public the perfect couple.

You find ways to maintain your secret life – slipping out at night, patrolling the streets of Gotham in your specialized suit, complete with built-in stealth tech of your own design. If Bruce notices your occasional limps or mysterious absences, he doesn't mention them. Then again, he has his own habit of disappearing at odd hours.

The wedding is a spectacle worthy of Gotham's elite. You play your part perfectly – the accomplished businesswoman, the perfect bride. No one notices how you scan the crowd for threats, or how your bouquet hides reinforced knuckles that could crack concrete.

Life at Wayne Manor settles into an odd rhythm. You and Bruce orbit each other like binary stars, together but separate. You respect each other's privacy, never questioning the mysterious phone calls or unexplained injuries. During the day, you attend board meetings and charity galas. At night, you slip away to protect the city in your own way.

"Late night?" Bruce asked one morning, not looking up from his newspaper as you slipped into the breakfast room at 6 AM, still in yesterday's clothes.

"Charity gala planning committee," you lied smoothly, hiding your limp. The drug cartel you'd busted hadn't gone down without a fight. "You?"

"Board meeting in Tokyo." His tie was perfectly straight, but you spotted foundation covering a fresh cut along his jaw.

They were good lies, practiced lies. The kind that came with years of maintaining double lives.

It's during your fourth month of marriage that everything changes. You're tracking a human trafficking ring through the warehouse district, your suit's electric blue accents dimmed for stealth. The intel suggests Batman might be investigating the same case, but you've always managed to avoid him before.

Not tonight.

You kept your operations separate from Batman's territory, focusing on Gotham's tech-driven criminal underground. You had history there – scores to settle with your father's former partners who'd turned your family's Technologies' innovations into weapons.

But Gotham had a way of bringing its heroes together, whether they wanted it or not.

You'd avoided Batman for months, but now, crouched in the shadows watching him work, something felt familiar about his movements. The way he disabled the security system matched a technique you'd glimpsed Bruce using on their home's alarm panel.

The second you closed your eyes and reopened them, he was gone in the dark.

You sense his presence before you see him – a darker shadow among shadows. You turn to flee, but he's faster than expected. A grappling hook wraps around your ankle. You counter with a move learned in the mountains of Nepal, breaking free and landing in a defensive stance.

That's when you see his face in the moonlight, cowl knocked loose in the scuffle. The realization hit you like a thunderbolt

"Bruce?"

He stares at you, equally shocked. "You're the mystery vigilante?"

For a moment, neither of you moves. Then you start laughing, the sound echoing off the warehouse walls. "So this is why you're never around for midnight snacks."

"Me? You're the one who keeps claiming yoga classes run late." His voice carries a hint of admiration. "The tech industry's break-in last month – that was you?"

"Had to destroy some evidence of illegal weapons manufacturing. My father's old partners aren't as clean as they pretend to be." You step closer, studying his suit. "I always wondered how Batman got his tech. Wayne Enterprises explains a lot."

"How long have you known?" he asked, removing his cowl.

"About thirty minutes." She deactivated her mask, letting it dissolve into her suit's collar. "You?"

"I suspected something when you took down that smuggling ring last month. The tech they were using came from one of your family's Technologies' old subsidiaries."

"Cleaning up family messes." She shrugged. "Sound familiar?"

His laugh was unexpected – rich and genuine in a way she'd never heard from Bruce Wayne, socialite. "Alfred is going to love this."

"Alfred already knows," she said. At his surprised look, she added, "He's been leaving medical supplies in my bathroom for weeks. That man sees everything."

"The two-year gap in your resume," he says. "Training?"

"League of Shadows. Left when I realized what they really were." You notice his slight flinch. "But you already knew about them, didn't you?"

He nods slowly. "We have... history."

"Well," you say, smiling at your lips, "I suppose this makes our arranged marriage more interesting."

"It certainly explains a few things." He pauses, then adds, "Your father doesn't know?"

"About as much as your board knows about your nighttime activities." You activate your mask in place.

"So." Bruce stepped closer, studying you with new interest. "What happens now?"

You smiled, already seeing possibilities unfold. "Now we stop pretending our marriage is just for show. Between your resources and my tech, we could do more good together than apart."

"The press will notice if Batman and the new vigilante start working together simultaneously, you and I become inseparable."

"Let them talk." You activated your suit's systems, preparing to leave. "Besides, every good marriage needs a hobby. Speaking of which, I've got some traffickers to catch. Care to join me?"

The smile he gives you is genuine – perhaps the first real one you've seen from him. "Lead the way."

As you swing across Gotham's skyline together, you realize that this arranged marriage might be the best thing that ever happened to you. Not because it saved Bruce Wayne's reputation or strengthened your family's social standing, but because it gave you something you never knew you needed: a partner who understands both sides of your double life.

Later that night, as you both tend to your wounds in the newly revealed Batcave, Bruce looks at you with newfound respect. "You know," he says, "most people marry for love or money. We married for public relations and ended up with a crime-fighting partnership."

You laugh, wincing as Alfred patches up your shoulder. "Well, they do say marriage is full of surprises."

The next morning, headlines screamed about Batman and the new vigilante team-up against a human trafficking operation. But it was the society pages that really got people talking, with photos of Bruce and you sharing a surprisingly passionate kiss at a charity gala.

The papers call you Gotham's power couple, the perfect merger of old money and new innovation. If they only knew the half of it. By day, you run your companies and attend charity galas. By night, you protect the city together, two vigilantes moving in perfect sync.

And if the criminals of Gotham complain that Batman's gotten twice as effective lately with improved tech? Well, that's just one of the many perks of married life.

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queen-of-gotham · 2 months ago

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Chapter Four: Months 7 - 9

Word count: 2,425

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three

Chapter Four

It had been seven months now, and Haru had finally started crawling. Despite them being mostly confined to his bedroom, the baby was getting into everything. She was starting to grasp different items and attempting to open his drawers, she would also sit herself up and try to pull on anything that partially stuck out of said drawers, and honestly the amount of times he had to pull her out from underneath his bed or her crib was insurmountable. Who knew that babies got into so much stuff?

Haru was also managing to find the smallest of items and tried to eat them, just this week alone Hizashi had pulled a guitar pick, a receipt paper, and a paper clip from her little mouth. He was starting to think parenting may be some weird test from the gods to see how well you could keep something alive that was obviously just trying to kill itself.

“Haru, not cool man, stay out from under there.” Hizashi muttered, pulling his baby out from under her crib once again. “We gotta leave. Stop getting into everything.”

Hizashi placed his daughter in the crib, so he could finish getting ready, and she grabbed the little rails shaking herself back and forth and yelling a bit, making Hizashi laugh. “It’s your own fault you’re in baby jail, kid.”

He grabbed his school bag and dropped it by her diaper bag, making sure it was well packed before turning his attention back to the baby in her crib, watching him with big green eyes. He dressed her and handed her her bottle to drink while they made their way to the Aizawa household.

Everything was running pretty normal that day at school, they had normal class work and hero trainings, the dumbigos had lunch together, and honestly, that was when Hizashi should have known something was off.

He came back home a bit early that night, a rare Thursday off from the radio station he worked at. He walked into his home, Haru on his hip and was greeted by a familiar eerie sight.

His dad sat in his favorite recliner, a glass of whisky in his hand and his mother paced the floor a bit, her eyes meeting his when Hizashi walked in through the door, closing it gently behind him before he dropped the diaper bag and his school bag to the floor, looking between his parents before his mom walked over and pulled Haru from his grasp, making the baby fuss just a bit.

“What’s going on?” Hizashi asked cautiously, a bit anxious about his mom now handling his baby when she had barely acknowledged her presence over the past 7 months, and the small quiver of his daughters lip had him moving to take her back instinctively.

“We went to pick the baby up from daycare today and they informed us that she hasn’t been at that daycare for months! Why have you been lying to us?” His dad asked, his whisky glass squeaking a bit as his hand tightened around it.

“What? Why were you trying to pick Haru up?” Hizashi asked, his voice filled with confusion as Haru started to whimper, his mother moving Haru away from his extended grasp to ‘comfort’ her herself.

“I’m asking the damn questions, Hizashi.” His dad snapped. “If she ain’t been at that cheap ass daycare, where has she been every damn day while you’re at school?”

“Or while you’re working?” His mother chimed before softly hushing Haru, bouncing her in a way Hizashi knew would just make her more upset.

“She’s been- Ma, she doesn’t like that.” Hizashi was having a hard time focusing on the questions when his baby was obviously uncomfortable and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

“Hizashi.” His father snapped loudly, quickly garnering his attention. Hizashi’s dad was a tall, lanky man, who was well built in his youth. He had been stationed in Japan while he served in the United States Army and met his mother during his time here, eventually marrying her and moving to the country permanently. The man commanded attention when he spoke and Hizashi knew from personal experience to pay attention or deal with consequences.

“Sorry, sir. She has been staying with the Aizawa’s while I’m in school or working. Sometimes Oboro or Shouta will watch her while I work, but it’s mostly Shouta’s mom.”

“You’d rather some… some stranger, watch my baby than your own mother?” Hizashi’s mom asked thickly, and for a moment, Hizashi was certain he may have just stepped into the twilight zone. “Hush sweet girl. You’re okay MaMa has you.”

Hizashi’s brows knitted together in irritation. “Did you just call yourself ‘Mama’ to her?”

“No, Ma-Ma… like in English for grandmother.”

Hizashi started to say something to argue about how the real word she was looking for was ‘maw-maw’, taking a deep breath in before once again stepping towards his mother to take his daughter away from her, Haru’s cries a bit louder now, and she leaned for him. “Look, can I please just take her-“

“You’ve spoiled her. You keep her locked up in that room with you and she doesn’t even know who me and your dad are.” His mother says back, once again stepping away from his extended reach. Hizashi is absolutely floored, confused behind belief.

“What? You’re the ones who said you weren’t going to help. That I had to do this on my own, so that’s what I’ve done! I buy her diapers and wipes, formula, clothes, toys. Me. I’ve done all that. I make sure she stays quiet because dad gets upset if she’s fussy for too long. You all have made it clear I have to walk on eggshells with her around here. I don’t understand where all this is suddenly coming from!” Hizashi said loudly, and his dad slammed his glass down, causing him to jump, and Haru to full on start crying.

“You will not speak to your mother that way, boy.”

“We never said we wouldn’t help. She is our granddaughter. We love her.” His mother defended, still bouncing Haru to try and console her.

“I didn’t- Ma. Give me my child, please. She doesn’t like that.” Hizashi asked, trying not to sound desperate but was quickly starting to feel overwhelmed.

“Just let him shut the damn thing up.” His dad added sounding angry before walking past Hizashi, bumping his shoulder against his son. His mother finally, though begrudgingly, let Hizashi take Haru, the little girl gripping his shirt with small hands and quiet broken cries started to calm down now that she was in her fathers arms.

Hizashi immediately, started shushing his baby girl quietly, bouncing her gently and rubbing his fingers on the back of her scalp. “Daddy’s got ya, kid. You’re okay… you’re okay.”

His mother watched with a look of disdain as the baby almost immediately quieted down, before she silently excused herself to find her husband and Hizashi took the reprieve to take Haru to his room, to catch his breath, and attempt to figure out what the hell just happened.

“So… they just started denying it all?” Oboro asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.

“Yeah, and I still haven’t figured out why.” Hizashi said, rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

“What’d they even try to get her for?” Shouta asked, and Hizashi shrugged, wondering that himself.

The three sat there silently, eating their lunches, letting the information settle between them.

“You going to let them watch her?” Shouta asked after a bit and Hizashi took a deep breath.

“I don’t know man, I don’t think they’d hurt her. But… she’s not ever been around them, I mean, not really. They’ve acted like she hasn’t existed and now suddenly they want to play grandparents? At the same time, what can I do, man? They’re my parents and I’m only 16.”

“Yeah but you’re her dad. It’s your job to keep her safe.” Oboro reiterates and Hizashi nods.

“I know that, O. I do… it’s just…”

“A weird situation.” Shouta finishes, placing his hand on Hizashi’s shoulder for comfort

Snow fell from the sky and Hizashi adjusted his 8 month old daughters hat and rubbed her little back to keep her warm as he made his way to Oboro’s home for an early Christmas gathering, his parents behind him as they walked.

They had been… trying, was the best way Hizashi knew how to put it. His parents seemed to be better around others than when it was just the four of them in their home, but Hizashi really tried not to put too much weight into it. Some effort was better than none, right? That’s what he kept telling himself anyways.

“There’s my girl!” Oboro said excitedly when he answered the door, immediately helping Haru out of her carrier on Hizashi’s chest before even bothering to say hello to Hizashi or his parents. “Come on pretty girl, Uncle Obie got you some cool Christmas presents!”

“Dude!” Hizashi fussed laughing a bit at his friend.

“What? Oh. Good to see you Mr. And Mrs. Yamada.” Oboro said, giving them his best attempt at a genuine smile before walking into his living room, expecting the Yamada clan to follow behind.

“He’s not her uncle, Hizashi, you can’t let him call himself that.” His mother fussed softly behind him, not bothering to acknowledge her comment before he was pulled into a hug by the matriarch of the Shirakumo family.

“Mark! Jun!” Mrs. Shirakumo exclaimed, dropping her hug from Hizashi and moving to his parents. “I’m so glad you both came along!”

Hizashi felt himself scowl at the sound of his moms fake high pitched voice, letting himself wander further into the room and sitting down beside Shouta, glancing back to the kitchen where Oboro’s dad and Shouta’s parents stood drinking Sake together.

Oboro laid on the floor, on his stomach, in front of the brightly lit tree, Haru also laying on her stomach, giggling as Oboro played peekaboo with her.

Lively chatter filled the Shirakumo home. All the adults standing around and munching on the food as the teenaged boys kept to themselves. Hizashi was careful to listen to the adults, sure that things said between them would end up with him in the crossfire that evening when he and his parents were back home.

“… and Haru is such a good baby, Hizashi is really doing such a good job with her. I’m sure you’re both so proud of him.” Mrs. Aizawa says, a soft hand holding Mrs. Yamada’s arm.

“Well, yes and no. We would have preferred he didn’t go knocking up anyone at fifteen, much less a girl that was just going to abandon him with all the responsibilities.” Mrs. Yamada pushed her dark hair back.

“Well sure, but Hizashi has Shouta and Oboro. You know they’re not going to let him and that baby go through life alone.”

“You know it’s funny you say that, a few months ago, my Obie was joking about how that girl is going to call all three of them some version of dad… and then he said that they could be a polygon.” Mrs. Shirakumo snorts at the memory and the dads and Mrs. Aizawa laugh as well, the Yamada’s simply exchanging glances, not really enjoying the conversation as much as the other sets of parents.

The rest of the evening runs smoothly, gifts are exchanged and the occasional snide mark is made to Hizashi from his parents that he ignores to the best of his ability, simply trying to enjoy his daughters first Christmas to the fullest.

All these moments with her seem fleeting. Like she’s growing faster than he can keep track of, doing new things daily. He knows she doesn’t understand the concept of Christmas and presents and Santa Claus, but that didn’t change the fact that he was going to relish in each moment of it all.

The new year rolled around and the group found themselves watching Haru carefully in the Aizawa family living room. She held onto the coffee table as Oboro gently pulled a pizza box across it, watching as the little girl cruised along, trying to get a piece of the food.

“She’s gonna fall and bust her face.” Shouta states nervously.

“No she won’t, she’s got strong little legs, look at that balance!” Oboro argues, finally pulling the pizza box off the table, as he backs away from it, trying to encourage the baby to take her first steps.

Hizashi watches normally, phone in his hand, just incase Haru decides to take off, he wanted to make sure he got those first steps on video. She stands at the end the of the coffee table bouncing while her hands hold strong for balance. She looks to Oboro, big green eyes looking from him down to the pizza in his lap, and she lets one hand off table.

“That’s my girl. Come to Papa.” Oboro states with a grin, shaking the pizza in the box to entice her.

“You’re not her papa.” Shouta states with a defeated sigh. He was beginning to wonder if there was any use on argue with his blue haired friend.

“Sorry, dude. Do you want to be papa? I feel like father is more fitting for you.”

Hizashi watched his daughter intently, her second hand coming off the table and he hit record on his phone.

“Me and you aren’t her dads’, Oboro.” Shouta says and Haru bounces a bit, her little head tilting down to look at her legs, the little black hair bow that had been in her hair finally falling out, right in her line sight.

Hizashi watches carefully, as his daughter suddenly ducks down to grab the bow and smacks her head right on the table, she lifts back up and her little lip quivers after Hizashi gasped at the incident and all three boys moved to comfort her, Shouta getting to her first somehow and swooping her up, running fingers through her blonde hair as he bounces her and shushes her softly.

Hizashi feels like his heart could burst at the sight. Seeing his daughter calm down in his friends arms, watching her bury her face into his neck and black hair as she calms down, his hair wrapped in her tiny fists as she holds on. His friends may not be her dads but he knew that he and his kid were more than lucky to have both of them.

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manufacturedrainbows · 1 year ago

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The celebration everyone could've held, had the plate not dropped. The drinks, the games, the dancing. The laughter that would've filled 7th Heaven.

All of it, ripped away in a matter of hours.

Haunted by the words of Sephiroth after the plate drop, Cloud tries to push through the grief and find Aerith by himself. Barret's there to stop him, and offer some much-needed comfort.

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simp-ly-writes · 3 months ago

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Dreams of Dragons (pt.1)

─────── · · A House of the Dragon FanFic

PAIRING: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Targaryen!Reader

SUMMARY: It had been centuries since Kings and Dragons ruled over Westeros but in your dreams- they still do. Being a descendant of the Targaryens, your parents told you stories of the great battles your family had fought generations ago that inspire to to become an archeologist determined to dig up more on your families past. So on a opportunity trip to Dragonstone, you are met by an invisible force that appears to have its own plans for you.

TAGS: alternate universe, canon divergence, no use of y/n, second person perspective, female pronouns used, coarse language, depictions of blood and anxiety attacks, emotional hurt/comfort, protective!Daemon, angst, soulmates, time travel, not beta read. MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,070 | NEXT PART A/N: this is my first time writing something for this fandom, please be kind and I hope you all enjoy!

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EVER SINCE YOU WERE A CHILD, YOU WERE FASCINATED BY DRAGONS. Once night would fall your parents would sit at the foot of your bed, a flickering lamp by your bedside acted as the only illumination of the room and played with the shadows to cast the great tales of your ancestors, the once mighty House Targaryen upon your ceiling.

Eyes feeling heavy and body sore from running about all day, your mind was always active, imagination sparking to life as their stories washed over into your dreams that you often confused with reality. Your dreams always felt too real, as if that distant past was increasingly tangible every time you opened your mind to rest.

You could hear the sounds of battle, the clashing of metal and cries of men fighting amongst ash and blood that seemingly rained down from the skies. You were unflinching to the thunderous roars of dragons above, their wings the wind carrying the smoke over to everyone neighbouring in warning not to mess with the Targaryen's. But it was a dream you woke up from nevertheless as you found yourself back in the waking realm day after day.

Your parents thought nothing of your over-active imagination nor your constant desire to learn more of your ancestry, just taking it to you being a curious child with an ambitious mind for knowledge so they kept telling you stories of the bravest princesses and princes that defended the realm, the tricks and battles they faced, and of course, the dragons they rode above the clouds touching the sun before anyone else could.

But as you grew older and your peers 'matured past fantasies' as your teachers put it, you became distanced from the people of your years and wanted to stuff your face in a book or memorize another historical map than attend any social events or soccer practices.

The walls of your room could not expand like your mind and became increasingly flooded in your illustrations and detailed diagrams of each house crest and dragon you read in your books.

Once the upper years of your secondary school education came, so did your time to shine in your historical, political, and classical studies. With ease you could recite the lineage of the great houses and every battle waged from coast to coast of Westeros that allowed you an early pass into college where your passions could be fully envisioned.

But with every sleepless night that passed you by from being enveloped in your studies, your once vivid dreams of the battlefields faded to staring at the back of your eyelids and waking up to the sound of your alarm.

─────── · ·

You would be one of the earliest graduates from your doctorate program in archeology and history, the slips of paper hung proudly up on your office walls beside your original illustrations that you hoped to inspire the younger generations that stepped foot into your office with a thirst for knowledge just like you were and to some point, still are.

The university you graduated from and now worked at was sending you and a small research team to the remains of Dragonstone and you nearly kissed your department head in thanks as you ran out of the meeting room to pack your bags and equipment.

A heavy backpack, duffle bag, and camera bag were all thrown into the back of your car as you made your way towards the airport for your overnight flight to the coast where it would be a few days of boat travel before you would reach the island.

You fell asleep easily on the flight contradicting the restless excitement you felt and for the first time in years, you didn’t see the back of your eyelids but vines slithering between weathered stones. The bench you sat on was a cold hard stone, porous and rough underneath your palms as you observed the long black dress you wore.

Pinching the material between our fingers, its softness confused you for the garment materials you researched for the lower classes were definitely not so velvety. Hiking up your gown slightly you stared at your polished short heels that confirmed your suspicions. You were a noble woman of some kind in this new dream and by the looks of your hands, had yet to see battle if you ever were.

A cough has your eyes snapping upwards, your skirt dropping as your neck warms and crawls up to your cheeks. “To be scandalized or enthralled by seeing the princesses hiked up skirts, hm,” a tall man with long white hair hums to himself whilst leans against a pillar, hand lazily resting upon the hilt of a sword, their smirk wavering on a grin as they await your response with humour evident not only in their tone but in they violet eyes.

You look away confused, you recognize the man from some place yet cannot place a name to the face as you take in the gardens that surround you in search of an answer. The rain of blood from past dreams is now a small fountain with a swan spraying water in a steady stream from its beak into a porcelain bowl. The flowers that surround you are thriving in various pigmented shades of reds, blues, and yellows; land untrampled and not a single corpse or dragon in sight.

Your distant attitude and lack of response seem to offend the man, his smile sliding off his face as he casts a glare to the foliage for taking your attention away from him. He takes long strides, sword and cape swinging by his sides to stand before you, casting you in his shadow as a gloved hand tucks a strand of your matching white hair behind your ear.

“What troubles your mind?” His voice is tender, all traces of humour left as you turn to look into his eyes. No one had ever spoken to you nevertheless touched you in a dream before… you pinch yourself in an effort to wake the real you up only to see a bruise starting to form against your skin. The silver-haired man before you hisses, separating your hand from your skin with a glare, “why are you punishing yourself? What have you done?”

You watch as the pastel violet fades to a deep purple and look away, mind racing to conjure an explanation but any thoughts are ripped away as a gloved hand grips your chin, forcing your eyes to cast upon his refined features set between a dozen healed scars. “Are you still ill? Do you need me to grab a Maester?”

He uses his teeth to pull the glove off his other hand, leaving it to fall amongst the grass and clovers before resting his knuckles against your forehead to check your temperature, “you don’t feel hot…” his voice a mere murmur in his observation before sharpening, “who has made you this way?”

His grip is unwavering on your chin, bordering on a physical comfort and hurtful as you mistake his growing concern for anger and rush to speak, “It is me! This is all of my doing, your highness.” You swallow deeply and pray that you stated the correct title so as to not lose your physical head. You shake yourself away from his touch before moving to stand.

Yet just as you step around his broad frame his hand reaches for your upper arm, keeping you in place, “Do you forget yourself?” his mouth pressed directly near your near, he feels you still beneath his touch.

“Please, excuse me,” you look straight forwards, peering down the open hallway for an escape.

“I demand you tell-” the man is cut off by a new feminine tone that steps out into the sunlight. She too wears a long dress yet hers is mostly red with gold accents. Her hair braided across the top of her head to form a crown, her stance upright, gaze as violet and piercing as the man who holds you and suddenly it dawns on you.

“Princess Rhaenyra,” you whisper before slowly turning your head to meet the Rogue Prince’s gaze. Your mouth is agape, eyes wide before casting down as you try and bow yet Daemon’s hold on your arm keeps you.

“She is not right in the head,” Dameon calls over his shoulder to his niece who looks between the two people she adores most in concern. You shoot the prince a glare for his choice of words that he chooses to ignore.

“But the Maester promised that once she woke up again she would be herself again,” Rhaenyra frowns. Dameons hand slips down your arm, fingers interlacing with your own before raising your hands to press a lingering kiss to your knuckles. His thumb tracing the sparks leftover from his mouth to your skin.

You open and close your mouth like a fish out of water, breathing starting to become ragged as you feel overwhelmed, not understand why you have yet to wake up, why the royals you to some part idolized in the stories your parents told you were worried over you presently, “It's just not adding up,” and you don’t realize to be speaking your thoughts.

“What does not?” Rhaenyra takes another step forwards, hesitant to give you space, not wanting to overwhelm you further. Your lip quivers and you swear to hear a bee humming in your ears as your body begins to sweat. You start to grip at your bodice that feels too tight against your body, feet wavering on stability before you feel yourself falling back and into an awaiting chest.

“Get the Maesters!” Daemon roars before hearing a dozen rushed feet of servants departing down the hall. He walks you both towards the bench to sit in his lap, pushing your head gently back to rest against his padded shoulder.

Rhaenyra falls to her knees before you both, gripping your hands with tears welling in her eyes, “please,” she squeezes your hands, “stay with me, I cannot do this alone again, I need my-” you fail to catch the rest of her words feeling as your eyes grow heavy with every passing moment. Your breaths begin to even out in contrast to Daemons short panicked ones as his hands rubs up in down your waist in a reassurance for you or himself you will never get to know as sleep overcomes you, the last thing you hear are his pleas, “wake up, I will not live to see you laying lifeless for another day!”

─────── · ·

You find yourself in the waking world and being blinded by artificial lighting as a stewardess politely asks you to place your seat upright and tray up. You hastily comply with an anxious smile as your co-worker in the aisle seat across from you greets you a polite, “good morning.”

But as you deboard the plane, grab your luggage and head for the boats down by the docks, it is as if a presence lingered behind you… watching… waiting, your paranoia growing with every step you took closer towards Dragonstone. You could hear your heartbeat like a drum ringing in your ears with every step you took, connecting to your soul as you were unflinching to the waves coming over the boat, soaking you to the core.

You debated turning back as you were last to leave the boat and step onto rocky terrain yet your body was acting on its own volition, physically keeping you from moving backwards and dragged you to the cliff face as the sun was setting, a pastel painting of hues reflecting across the deep blue sea that you stood before. A town of tents behind you and a fortress awaiting just up the hill.

The cool ocean breeze kissed your skin and blades of grass brushed up against your ankles like the island was comforting you for something you had yet to discover. A call of your name has you snapping from your thoughts, a flash of silver out of the corner of your eye has you ignoring your peers before you squeeze your eyes to shut off the nonsense you were experiencing and join everyone for a communal dinner that you are last to leave from, childish to say you were scared to fall asleep in fear of waking up on the other side again…

─────── · ·

NEXT PART

─ · · A/N: what did you think? and is there anything you want to happen next? 😊

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