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queen-of-gotham · 12 days 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 · 10 months 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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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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thoughts-of-endless-night · 4 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 · 2 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 · 5 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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charlotteking23 · 14 days 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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jam3sacaster · 5 months ago

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“Don’t waste your time with him.” PT 1.

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by my sweet heart anon 🫶🏽 / Your uncle, Freddie Jones, introduces you to his new business partners, and you end up wishing he didn’t…

18+ FANFIC / SMUTTY, angsty, hot, in love. Longer than usual so I apologise and hope you don’t take a nap halfway through. Reader character aged 21. As always, request what you wanna see in my asks 💋

Desperate to escape the exhausting bustle of London, it had been agreed some weeks ago that you were to stay at your uncle, Freddie Jones’, Manor House in Rutshire. He had mentioned, vaguely, over the phone about his new business idea and that your expertise in marketing would provide a real asset. Pulling into the extravagant driveway at 8am sharp, you slam your car door shut and pull three substantial cases from the boot. “Darlin!” The familiar accent chimed as your moustached uncle threw open his front door, walking towards you with outstretched arms. Dropping your cases to the floor, you ran to meet him, embracing in a tight, meaningful hug. “I’m so glad you see you.” You exhaled, already feeling the stresses of London melting away. You had always been incredibly close to your uncle, but his newfound wealth and social status and upheaved him from his family and everyday life and plunged him into Rutshire. “Leave the cases. Someone will bring them up for you.” He nodded, taking your hand and leading you into his remarkable home.

“Hello, darlin!” Your auntie Valerie peeped from the doorway, momentarily giving you an uncomfortable, cramped hug. “You’ll have to excuse Fred Fred for an hour, he’s having a business meeting.” She rolled her eyes as she spoke. Embarrassed, Freddie looked down at his feet, but still mustered a smile for you. “Don’t worry about that, come in and meet them. I can tell you all about our new business plan, it’s fuckin’ incredible.” He spoke, beaming to himself now as Val pottered her way outside into her lavish garden. Opening the door to his office, Freddie ushered you in and boomed to the two men standing inside. “Gents, this is my beautiful niece, she’s staying with me for a while and she was an absolute marketing genius down in London. Darlin, this is Rupert-Campbell Black, Minister for Sport, and Declan O’Hara, former star of Declan on Corinium.” He introduced you. Declan tutted at the very mention of the C-word.

“Hello.” You spoke gently, awkwardly glancing between the two men. They quickly exchanged the necessary response to you, and gathered Freddie round the table, mumbling statistics that were far beyond understanding. “Sit, sit.” Freddie tapped the seat beside you, and you hesitantly obliged. Scanning your eyes over their scrawled out business plans, Rupert took the seat beside you, leaning over you slightly to point at some arbitrary on the paper. The potent, saccharine aroma of his aftershave wafting into your nostrils. As he retreated his hand, it brushed across yours softly, making your jump gently in shock. “Sorry.” He muttered, looking up at you and presenting you with a faint smile. Time stood still for a moment as your eyes interlocked contact — Rupert’s eyes softening in lust, yours in affection. “So,” Freddie’s hands slapped against the wooden desk, “We’ll have lunch, a couple of drinks and then get back to it.” He rubbed your shoulder and grinned at you, mouthing shortly after ‘You okay?’, to which you nodded.

Standing up from your chair and making your way into the garden, you breathed in the soft fragrance from the luxurious assemblage of flowers — Soft, pastelled hydrangeas, electric primroses, and properly preened roses of scarlet red and crisp white. You wrapped your soft, knitted lavender cardigan around your torso and squinted slightly under the subtle early morning sun. “London then, eh? Whereabouts?” An aristocratic voice sounded from behind you, cigarette smoke clouding the aroma from the flowers. “Kensington. I worked for a marketing agency, but they ended up thinking I was some kind of businesswoman so I ended up marketing a few television shows.” You reply, turning around slightly to see Rupert Campbell-Black stood, top button of his pastel blue shirt undone.

“Hmm. You’ll be a great asset to the team then. We could use your expertise.” He internally rolled his eyes as he spoke. There was nothing more dull and droning than boring a beautiful young lady with business. “Declan seems nice.” You reply, cheeks delicately glowing a rosy hue. To this, Rupert raised an arched eyebrow — appearing confused but a painful tinge of jealousy coursing through his veins. “Don’t waste your time with him. He’s… emotionally unavailable. His wife just fucked off back to London.” He chuckles abruptly, taking a long puff of his cigarette. Your supple lips pouted, feeling a rather strong wave of sympathy for Declan — partly for his wife leaving, partly for Rupert divulging such personal information to you. “I’m up at Penscombe Court, should you ever need to visit. To talk business and such. Or maybe more.” He winked, and you snickered, shaking your head softly. “Thank you. I’ll-umm… remember that.” You respond, making your way back inside.

Back in the office, Freddie was pacing up and down on his mobile, hand struggling to clasp around the thickened brick of a phone, and the antenna wafting around after him. Declan, muttering to himself under his breath, was sat at the desk, scribbling on an a5 piece of paper. “Drink?” You ask him, and he takes a moment to respond. “Sorry, love. Umm… yes, please. Just a soft one.” He replies, curling his bottom lip into an awkward smile. Temporarily migrating to the kitchen and walking back with a teeming jug of lemonade, laden with ice cubes and slices of fresh lemon, alongside four glasses. Pouring one out for everyone, Declan thanked you as you sat bedside him. “Sooo… what are you working on?” You ask, leaning into him to look over his shoulder. “Just a few pitch docs, jus’ throwin’ some ideas around.” Declan replied, but placed his pen back onto the table and sat back in his chair. “How old are ya?”

“21.” You meekly squeak, his presence intimidating. “And you’re already a marketin’ expert? Ya’ must be really good.” A reassuring smile plastered across his face as he spoke, and took a quick swig of his lemonade. “Well, I don’t know about that. I think Uncle Fred has made me seem a lot better than I actually am.” Freddie looks as you as you speak, smiling through his tedious phone conversation. “I’ve been propositioned already by Mr Campbell-Black.” You sigh, to which Declan shakes his head in disbelief. “Honestly, that man. There’s not a woman on the planet that he wouldn’t ride. Don’t waste your time with him.”

As the evening grew piercingly cold, the budding Venturer team roamed to the living room — television on, fire crackling and tumblers of amber whiskey flowing. You felt small amongst the room of men, talking too loudly and laughing too obnoxiously. Freddie was talking Rupert’s ear off, and that now familiar look of disinterest on Rupert’s face gave it all away. You grinned at him with twinkling eyes as he screwed his face up jokingly towards you at your uncle’s surely riveting conversation. “Whenever ya’ free, and ya’ wanna talk strategies, let me know and we can call a meeting.” Declan spoke, now drunk and stumbling over his words. “This isn’t your way of trying to flirt is it?” You ask, rolling your eyes and pouring yourself an offensively large glass of Sauvignon Blanc. “Trust me, darlin’, you’d know if I was trying to flirt.” All of a sudden, it wasn’t a joke anymore. His tone was low and gruff, and his eyes sharpened. “Maybe we should talk business now?” You suggest, inching your voice towards his. Without responding, Declan rose from the sofa and entered the office. To avoid arising suspicion, you get up a few moments later, with a half-arsed excuse about needing to use the bathroom. Barely waiting for you to close the office door behind you, Declan crashed his lips into yours, pinning you to the wall as the sounds of your colliding lips fought for dominance over your passionate groans.

•

Sliding his hand under your blue floral frock, Declan rubbed his thumb over your slit, the friction of your pants sending a jolt through your body. “Wet for me already?” He asked into your ear, before pulling your pants to the side and gliding two fingers inside you. You yelped in pleasure as his fingers immediately curled towards your g-spot. The frantic passion of the seductive man increased your groans, as you brought your hand down to rub his growing cock over his jeans. “Do you want me on my knees?” You asked with a smirk. Declan opened his mouth to speak, but —

The doorknob turned, and you both desperately panicked to straighten yourselves out. Smoothing down your dress as Declan turned around, in attempt to hide his hard-on from whoever was to enter the room. “Darlin?” Your uncle asked, and you perked your head up innocently. “You okay?”

“Yes, Uncle Freddie. Declan was just… picking my brains.” You chime, turning around slightly to check for his reaction. He suppressed a smirk, and nodded in agreement towards Freddie. Unsuspecting as always, Freddie smiled in contentment and closed the door behind him. “Fuck, that was close. Jesus feckin’ Christ, you turned me into an animal.” Declan wheezed into laughter. You stepped towards him and lifted his hand, sucking his brutish fingers that were, moments ago, inside of you. “Fuck.” He growled in response, running a course hand over his hair. You opened the office door and stepped out, Declan following close behind and giving you a playful snack on your behind that made you yelp. Freddie stood by the door, phone to his ear and speaking nonsense to a pretend caller. He was watching, and keeping a close eye.

•

“Cigarette?” Rupert’s voice spoke from the kitchen towards Declan. You hear Declan decline, and make your way into the kitchen to refill your drink. “You?” He asks, and you nod your head in response as you take a few, very-needed sips of wine. Pulling your uncle Freddie’s lighter from the countertop, you follow the suited man into the garden, taking a quick seat on the frosted wooden bench as Rupert stood above you. He lit his cigarette, and leant down to your level, lighting yours with the blaze within his.

“Finding us insufferable already?” He teased, taking a step back. Shaking your head and puffing your cigarette, your mind could barely muster a response as you envisioned the sound of Declan’s groans and the way his fingers hooked inside of you. “Umm… no. You’re both very nice, actually.”

“Hmm. Declan’s a bit of a cunt but we fair well for ourselves. Think any more about my offer?” He asks, sitting beside you now. “Not yet. How do I know you’re not some chauvinistic Casanova that wants to add me to your long list of conquests?” Raising an arched eyebrow as you speak. Rupert raises his hands in defeat, chuckling to himself that he’d been completely rumbled. You chuckle half-heartedly, semi-believing your own joke. “Well, let’s forget business. I don’t believe in waiting for something you desire. You’re a beautiful girl, and I’d like to take you to dinner.” He declared, taking a long drag of his cigarette and rubbing his thumb over your silky cheek. Taken aback by his rather attractive forwardness and gently biting your lip, you tilt your head upwards at the gentleness of his touch. The bitter evening silence in the garden was comforting — solemnly tranquil, interrupted only by autumn leaves tumbling in the wind and the occasional croaking of a frog in the grass. Even more beautiful still, the heavens opened up to unleash a downpour of of rain. Luckily, the bench was tucked under the porch, but one could still admire the serene display of nature.

Keeping your head tilted towards him, he ran his thumb from your cheek to your lips, lining the top lip, and then the bottom. So enamoured with desire, you could barely breath. He gently pushed his thumb into your mouth, making contact with your tongue. Keeping it there for a moment, he paused and spoke .. “You are magnificent.”

“Darlin’? Are you comin’ in? It’s rainin’ cats and dogs out there.” Freddie’s voice beckoned you from the kitchen window, catching a slight glimpse of the scene unfolding on his garden porch. Taking his time, Rupert removed his thumb from your mouth and stubbed out his cigarette against the brick wall. “You know where I am, angel. Don’t hesitate.” He expressed solemnly, as you collected yourself and went to join your uncle.

“Be careful, darlin’. You’re playing with fire.” Your uncle Freddie warned.

#rivals #rivals fanfic #rivals fanfiction #love triangle #every triangle is a love triangle when you love triangles - james acaster #declan o’hara #aidan turner #declan o’hara x reader #rupert campbell black #rupert campbell-black #alex hassell #rupert campbell-black x reader #my own dreadful writing #freddie jones #danny dyer

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queen-of-gotham · 9 days ago

Text

Chapter 5: Months 10 - 13

Word count: 2,219

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Chapter Four | Chapter Five

The television played in the living room. Some drama Hizashi’s mother had watched for as long as he could remember. He stood at the counter in his kitchen, eating a sandwich and watched his mother as she combed Haru’s hair into two small pigtails, the little girl in question trying to reach the comb that scratched carefully against her scalp.

“Haru and I are going to join some of my friends for an early dinner.”

Hizashi took pause as his mother said that. Unsure of why she would do that but too nervous to actually question his mothers intentions in the matter.

“I’m going over to the Shirakumo’s, I was going to take her.” Hizashi finally says, taking another bite of his sandwich unsure if that would be enough prompt to tell his mother he didn’t want her to take his ten month old daughter without saying that outright.

“Nonsense. Enjoy being a teenager for a bit. She can hang with her Ma-Ma for a bit.”

Hizashi cringed. He hated that his mother called herself that. It sound too much like, ‘mama’ in his opinion. Not that he would ever say that to her.

“Just don’t go knocking anyone else up, Hizashi.” His dads voice echoed as he stepped out of his bedroom and into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of whisky. He was starting early today with the alcohol.

“I don’t think it’s possible for me to knock up Shouta or Oboro, so no worries there.” Hizashi attempted to joke with his father, but he honestly should have known better.

“Why would you even say that. You gay or some’?” Hizashi’s dad gave him a a stern look and said the word ‘gay’ as if it was despicable.

“No, dad. I’m not… gay.” Hizashi says, taking the last bite of his sandwich.

He wasn’t gay, not… really. He was obviously into chicks. Women were beautiful creatures with soft skin and delicate movements. Some of the girls in his class just looked… magical when throwing a punch or using their quirks. Something about a beautiful woman made his breath catch.

Those same thoughts led him to Amber. Her image burned into his brain of the day she left Haru with him. The way her dainty fingers pushed her brown hair back. The way her green eyes avoided looking at him even though he was desperately looking for answers… she left a bad taste in his mouth about romance in general.

“Better not be.” Hizashi’s dad grumbled taking his drink and going to sit down on the couch without another word.

“There’s my girl!” Oboro swung his bedroom door open excitedly as Hizashi stood there, his blue haired friend peering around him and his lip turning to a pout. “Where’s Haru? My mom got her?”

Hizashi huffed, walking inside the bedroom and plopping back onto his friends bed beside Shouta who seemed to be sleeping.

“My mom took her to dinner with her friends.”

“That’s dumb.” Oboro stated, sitting in his computer chair, spinning in a singular circle as he settled looking at his friends.

“She’s still calling herself ‘Ma-ma’. That’s weird right? Tell me that’s weird.”

“S’weird.” Shouta muttered tiredly, not bothering to open his eyes from beside Hizashi.

The three continued chatting for awhile, mainly Hizashi and Oboro going back and forth with the occasional comment thrown in from their sleepy friend.

They mainly discussed the weird change in behavior from Hizashi’s mother over the past few months and the oddity of her suddenly wanting to be involved in Haru’s life.

Haru’s first birthday was only a couple months away, right as the trio would be starting their second year at UA. Hizashi informed his friends that he figured they’d go to the park to celebrate, cook out and do cake, maybe ice cream.

“It’s weird to think you’ve had her that long.” Shouta mumbled and Oboro nods in agreement.

“Our little mascot for the dumbigos!”

Month eleven and Haru was into everything. Still no actual steps, but she was cruising along furniture like no one’s business.

Today was odd though. He had no sitter and work at the radio station, as spring rolled in in full force. Walking into the building with his baby on his hip he greeted the secretary at the front.

“Oh, is this the sweet girl you’re always talking about?” The middle aged secretary asked, reaching to try and take the baby but her grip tightened on Hizashi and he laughed a bit nervously, back away a bit.

“Yeah. This is Haru. I didn’t have a sitter today so…” Hizashi says nervously, rubbing the back of his head, and the secretary waves off his worry.

“If you need help you’re welcome to leave her up here with me.”

She was harmless, and Hizashi knew that, but he had an overwhelming sense to keep his baby close, simply nodding as he walked back towards the break room to get coffee for the radio hosts and sound engineers. He sat Haru beside him on the floor, digging through her diaper bag he had discarded onto the table to hand her a couple toys to keep her entertained while he made the coffees.

Hizashi listened to Haru as she cackled, her toy rattling as she shook it and he glanced down and smiled at her. Blonde pigtails sticking out from her head and big green eyes shining under the yellowed fluorescent lights inside the room.

Things hadn’t been easy this last year. Navigating his first year of high school, along with balancing his relationships with his family and friends, keeping his performance at both school and work balanced, and simultaneously trying to be a present father and raise his daughter well. It had all been overwhelming but moments like these, hearing her laugh, watching her learn and explore the world, it brought a different sense of repose.

Hizashi counted the coffees in the disposable cups. He needed five. He had five And he made sure everyone’s names were written across the cups, picking up Haru in one arm and the drink carrier in the other as he walked into the studio, sitting Haru on the couch while he divvied out the coffees, waiting for the ‘ON AIR’ light to switch off before opening the door into the recording area of the studio.

“Ayo! Coffee for you disk jockeys!” Hizashi announced handing the coffee out to the two hosts and his eyes focused on his daughter through the glass, clapping as one of the sound engineers gave her a high five.

“No sitter?” One of the hosts asked curiously and Hizashi shook his head.

“Nah, but no worries my homies, Haru is a pretty chill baby. She can handle a five hour shift with her old man!”

The female host laughs at Hizashi’s confidence, patting his arm. “You’re 16, I don’t think you can hardly call yourself an ‘old man’.” She teased in good sport.

Hizashi laughed and shrugged. “I may not be an old man, but I’m her old man… and she seems to like the studio, look at that pretty baby in there clapping! Isn’t she cute?” He gushed a bit at the hosts laugh talking to each other as Hizashi left the room, he couldn’t help but overhear them say that he ‘has the voice’ whatever that meant.

“Dada!!” Haru yelled from her crib, and Hizashi groaned, rubbing his face tiredly. They were about to start their second year at UA, but first, they were celebrating Haru’s birthday.

His plan for a small cookout had been debunked by his mother who insisted on throwing an entire shindig much to his chagrin. His parents rented a hall, and invited their friends. He was confused by their behavior. He wanted to believe his parents just finally realized their past behavior wasn’t appropriate, that they actually cared. But part of him was also waiting for the shoe to drop.

“Dada!! Dada!!”

Hizashi chuckled, Haru’s persistent little voice calling his name bringing a smile to his face despite how tired he was.

“Daaaaadaaaaa”

“Alright kid, I’m up, I’m up.” Hizashi said, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and pulling her out of her crib, thinking about the volume of her voice. While she was loud the vibrations of her voice didn’t do anything like his quirk and she still hadn’t seemed to manifest hers. He was born with his quirk, but he knew every child was different that’s what all the parenting blogs had said anyways. They also said he needn’t worry until her fifth birthday, so in his mind, his little girl still had plenty of time to develop a quirk, be it his or Ambers.

Hizashi dressed his little girl in faux leather leggings, white snake Tshirt, and a little leather jacket Oboro had purchased for her, putting on a pair of tiny vans shoes on her feet. He stared at her, proud of the tiny punk-rock princess he was raising as he then took a brush through her hair, putting it up in two tiny pigtails that had become the baby girls signature style.

Hizashi met his parents at the rental hall around 2, his best friends by his side, and Haru in Oboro’s arms. All three boys faces fell when they walked in and saw how all three sets of parents had decorated the hall. Pink and gold streamers strung about, balloons everywhere, it was decorated for a princess, albeit not the punk-rock kind he was attempting to turn Haru into.

“There’s Ma-Ma’s baby!” Hizashi’s mom called no sooner than the boys strolled in. She pulled Haru from Oboro’s arms and ran off with her without a word to the boys. “Let’s get you into your birthday dress.”

“Birthday dress?” Shouta questioned looking at Hizashi and he shrugged. He had no clue what his mother was talking about.

The boys finished helping getting things together with the others moms’ while the dads sat at a table talking.

“I’m surprised you picked such a girly theme for Haru, Hizashi.” Mrs. Shirakumo says as she finishes tying balloons to the archway.

“I know. I was shocked when I saw the decor.” Mrs. Aizawa agreed and the women laughed a bit.

“I did-“

“Here’s the birthday girl!” Mrs. Yamada yelled bringing Haru back into the room, a large pink gown on her small body.

“She looks like a pastry.” Oboro said without a second thought to immediately be elbowed on the ribs by Shouta. “Ow! What! She does! She looks like a human cupca- ow! Stop that!” He yelled as he was elbowed again.

“Ma… how’s she supposed to move in that thing? She’s not walking yet, it’s going to get-“

“Don’t back talk your mother, boy!” Mr. Yamada yelled and Hizashi immediately closed his mouth, moving to take his babbling daughter from his mother.

The party went well, even if it was a bit overwhelming. Haru recieved more presents than Hizashi knew what to do with and it seemed like the baby girl had a good time, aside from the fussing she did when she couldn’t crawl. Her skirt would get caught up under her knees and she’d start crying and sit herself on her butt, arms in the air, yelling for her Dada.

Oboro smashed the girls small cake into her face despite Shouta telling him not to and it made for cute pictures as the girl clapped then simply placed her face back into the cake to try and eat it.

And after all the festivies were done, and the dumbigos found themselves back at the Yamada household with a tired and cranky infant since she missed her nap time today in lieu of her party.

Hizashi got her bathed and brought her back to his bedroom where his buddies were, closing the door behind him, Haru leaning for Oboro.

“That’s right. Come to Papa kid. Say it. ‘Pa-Pa’.” Oboro said taking her into his arms as she yawned, rubbing her little eye and snuggling into his neck. “She’s tired.”

“She had a long day.” Shouta agreed, as he put batteries into one of the toys the baby got for her birthday, and when he pressed the button to make sure it work, a hoard of the toys went off, causing the boys to jump In surprise.

“The hell?” Hizashi says, picking up a stuffed panda that she had gotten that had gone off as well. He read the label and the toys were connected to help entertain kids and teach them different things. While it seemed useful, Hizashi was having major Furby flashbacks.

Haru was unphased even given the jump Oboro had given by the surprising roar from the toys, rubbing the baby girls back.

“You have fun with this demon cult of toys.” Shouta said sarcastically looking through all the toys that had responded to one of the toys being pressed and Hizashi shook his head… wondering how many birthdays of Haru’s would be like this, room filled loud toys and a tired little girl snuggled into one of his friends. He smiled, he was happy with where his life was. He had good friends and an amazing daughter. A job he enjoyed and was training towards becoming a hero- which was his ultimate dream. He was lucky.

<<<Previous Chapter

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nelkey · 2 years ago

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Alright, I really gotta address this. Google cannot do this, they just legally can't. When they provide cloud services to their users, they still have to respect privacy laws. So even if they wanted to use google cloud services for it, for your data to be used to train Bard (Google's AI) you'd need to opt in specifically for that use and give your consent for your data to be used for those purposes, which I have not done.

Moreover, I live in Europe, my data in Google Cloud services is protected by European laws, specifically the GDPR (General Data Protection Regulation).

This is the full legal stuff of why google cannot do this at all, in case anyone wants to read through it

This is google's own statement about privacy regarding AI training, both inside and outside of Europe.

This is from the previous link:

"We have always maintained that you control your data and we process it according to the agreement(s) we have with you. Furthermore, we will not and cannot look at it without a legitimate need to support your use of the service -- and even then it is only with your permission. Here are some of the additional measures we take to ensure your privacy: (reference: GCP Terms).

In addition to these commitments, for AI/ML development, we don’t use data that you provide us to train our own models without your permission. And if you want to work together to develop a solution using any of our AI/ML products, by default our teams will work only with data that you have provided and that has identifying information removed. We work with your raw data only with your consent and where the model development process requires it. "

This sustains that no, they cannot use the data on google cloud, this includes any google workspace like docs, to train Bard without your consent.

Feel free to look up more info yourselves, especially if you think a company might be doing things illegally, but please, before panicking and pulling all your work out of any google workspaces, do some research of your own when things sound very illegal, the kind that would get any company in trouble.

(Also, this other thing isn't relevant to fics specifically, but another reason why google CANNOT use data from all its users stored in its cloud to train their AI is that other companies, and businesses and private entities in general also use these services often, so the AI would end up knowing private information and it would result in leaks from the AI not knowing that its not supposed to provide that info. Leaking other companies' info would be a fuck ton of legal trouble for them, so they won't risk it. This is one of the things that other AI services are getting in trouble for because through scraping different services, some companies info has already gotten leaked, so I doubt google will risk the same thing happening to them. They really don't need it badly enough to do that, there's a lot of info publicly in google that's not under anyone's personal google account that they can use without risking that much legal trouble).

Hey guys! Since ao3 is down and we're all craving fics, would anybody want to join a shared drive folder and upload their downloaded ao3 fics to it with folders divided by fandoms/ships/gen etc for anyone to read?

But please, anyone who uses it has to go give kudos and thank the writers in the comments after the attacks are over, we can get through this!

#ai legislation #gdpr #fanfic sharing project #google cloud #google drive #I am personally not an expert but I've been a computers major in college for years and I've taken classes on AI #plus basically all my family is made up of programmers and I know a lot of people who work with this kind of stuff #you can also check out those sources and more yourselves #informing yourselves about this stuff is important #one of the biggest issues with AI right now is that people don't know enough about how they work or how they can make mistakes #and especially where the legal limits are for companies

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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 · 1 month 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!

─────── · ·

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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