#delphine imagine

[meazalykov]

invisible string theory

lena oberdorf x uswnt!lyon!reader

part one - part two - part three

summary: you're with her now, but you've known of her for longer than that.

warnings: long chapter since I have to split this up into three parts, changing things that happened irl just a tiny bit for the plot of this, google translated language.

the pathway of your career was never simple, or original. 

growing up in the states, you participated in many youth programs. sacrificing a chance at a normal childhood, you took the chance to fulfill your 5-year-old self's dream. 

before you know it, you’d grow up to be the best teenager in the country– in terms of soccer. 

just before going into high-school, you were called up for the usynt for the first time. your parents wanted to see you happy, so you were sent into homeschooling. 

it wasn’t easy leaving public-school. you barely had time for your non-soccer playing friends and eventually– you seemed to forget about them. your friends and teammates on your club and national teams were your new priority. 

breaking records on the national level, it seemed like the youth team was too easy for you. 

and then 2018 came along, when you were 16 years ol–  

well, not yet. just a day before your 16th birthday, in January 2018, you were having your debut on the uswnt. 

against denmark, you were thrown into the game in the 50th minute, not long after halftime. being an attacking midfielder, you were expected to contribute to any attack or opportunity given for you. 

playing with the current world champions intimidated you. your new mentor, christen press, noticed this when your leg and foot tapped against the grass as the both of you waited to get subbed in. 

“hey! you gotta relax.” christen whispers over the crowd, her tone stricter than usual which causes your leg to stop tapping.

a goal came from mallory pugh that same second, so you were distracted for a few seconds celebrating. 

luckily, this gave you enough time to take deep breaths.. something your sports therapist recommended for situations like this. 

“i will, sorry.” you quickly spoke after, moving your tongue to press on the inside of your cheek. you didn’t notice how nervous you could’ve looked from the outside. 

“you don’t need to apologize, you’ll do great i promise!” she patted your upper back a few times before the ref blew the whistle for the subs. 

after the whistle blew in the 93rd minute, you breathed a huge sigh of relief. most of your older teammates ran to your side to congratulate your contributions to the 5-1 win. 

1 goal and one assist on your senior team debut didn’t happen to players everyday, especially to newly 16 year olds.  

a year later, after 16 more caps, happy tears ran out of your eyes when your coach, jill, called you. 

this wasn’t too long after you made your professional club debut for sky blue fc, or what is now referred to as gotham fc. jill let you know that you were going to the world cup!

now being 17 years old, you were the youngest person on the uswnt roster to play in the women's world cup ever. 

being referred to as “baby blue” by the rest of the team, due to your age and the club you play for, they all made an effort to make sure that you had the best experience for your first world cup. 

you attached yourself to christen, megan, alex and tobin when it came down to needing mentors to guide you in france– and your closest friends mallory, tierna, and rose. 

in the football world, you’re treated like an adult. something you struggled with. 

your parents, siblings, and other relatives came to france to support you on your journey– but due to the everyday training (twice a day), media days, strict meal plans, and mental stress before the tournament– you couldn’t see them at all. 

thankfully, they were able to see you along with the rest of the world during the group stages. 

against thailand, you scored a goal with three assists after you were substituted in the 60th minute. the 13-0 win gave you a rush that would last throughout the entire tournament.

you didn’t play against chile, or sweden. sitting on the bench and observing your team was enough for you though– they’ll call you whenever they need you. 

one moment throughout the tournament, there was a four day break between the group stages and the round of 16. 

adidas, the brand you chose to sign for, wanted to do a photoshoot with many internationals who signed their brand. the world cup is the only chance they’ll be able to do this collaboration– and with fifa's approval– over 20 players from different countries are there in a big conference room, ready to get their picture taken. 

standing in the red uswnt kit, you felt intimidated– unaware that you could’ve been the most intimidating. 

unfortunately for you, lindsey and you were the only americans at this photoshoot. you attached yourself to the blonde before she was pulled away by staff. this left you alone sitting on a random chair– at a random table. 

(i know giulia gwinn is signed for nike, but pretend she is signed to adidas for the plot)

“um– hey?” a girl your age– or maybe a bit older– with blonde hair stands in front of you with a confused, yet amused, expression. 

your eyebrows knit together as you respond back with a smile, “hi!” 

before the blonde could say anything, you turn your head to see a table card in the middle of the circle table. its labeled under germany so your eyes widened before you quickly stood up from your chair. 

“oh my goodness i’m sorry– i just found a random seat to sit in because i’m bored.” you talk a bit more than necessary, afraid that you did something disrespectful.

“its totally okay– i’ve been wandering around myself– i’m giulia!” she reaches her hand out, her german accent strong. 

you reach your hand out to meet hers, “i’m y/n. i’m with the us team.” 

giulia smiles, “i know– its hard to not notice the current world champs in the room.” 

you smile, your social anxiety fades as you engage in a conversation with the german footballer. 

“so when are you getting your pictures done?” giulia asks, wanting to continue the conversation with you. 

“oh i had my individuals and duo pictures with horan done earlier– i’m just waiting for the big group photo we have to take in–” you check your apple watch, “20 minutes.” 

“oh same!” giulia says, looking down at your apple watch too, seeing that it's 11:40am. 

“congratulations on getting on top of group B, i watched a little bit of the game during my lunch break yesterday!” you compliment as you cross your arms naturally. 

“thank you! it wasn’t easy.” giulia smiles.

“i feel you.” you relate. 

before you could talk to giulia more, another girl jogs up towards the two of you. 

she is wearing the same german kit as giulia, so you know she is her national teammate. she's taller than you, brunette, and you figure that she has short hair, since her hair was tied up in a small bun. 

the brunette looked very cute, but you brushed that thought aside. you have no idea what her name is and you need to put all of your focus on the world cup. 

“Da bist du ja! Ich habe dich gesucht, aber ich sehe, du hast einen neuen Freund gefunden.“ (There you are! I've been looking for you, but I see you've found a new friend.) the brunette nudges giulia’s shoulder, looking at her before looking at you with curiousity. 

“relax! this is y/n.” giulia waves her hand towards you. 

“hey.” is all you say, smiling at the cute girl. 

“hey.” she responds, smiling with the same cheeky smile you had. 

“wer ist das? sie ist süß” (who is that? she is cute) the brunette says to giulia. you didn’t understand german, but you could tell that she was asking a question through the tone of her voice.

giulia rolls her eyes before giggling, 

“this is y/n, like i told you. she plays for the united states.” giulia responds in english, which you’re grateful for. the girl looked you up and down for a few seconds before talking to giulia in german again.

over giulia’s shoulder, just 20 feet behind her, you see horan waving her hand for you to come to her. you look back at the german girls, hating to cut them off from their conversation. 

“sorry girls but i have to go. it was so nice meeting you giulia!” you quickly hug giulia, and she hugs you back tightly before you walk away. 

ten days later-- when jill called for you to warm up in the final against the netherlands, your legs felt like pencil lead that could’ve snapped in half. 

in the 75th minute, the united states were up by 2. however, the euro champions against you had a point to prove. they weren’t going to let themselves lose the world cup without a fight. 

tobin heath got injured during the semi-finals and doctors made it clear that she couldn’t play the full 90 minutes in the final, so jill made the last decision to call you up. 

every commentator on broadcasts, radio stations, and television networks were wondering why jill was putting you– a seventeen year old with no world cup experience– over people like carli lloyd who's on the bench.

you couldn’t make a single mistake on the pitch. your mind repeated that sentence back to you as you warmed up with sprints and stretches on the sidelines. 

five minutes go by and you’re on the pitch. focusing on the ball, you made beautiful passes to the forwards and midfielders around you.

when your eyes were on the ball, it was distracting from the neverending stadium around you. 

blocking out the noise of the crowd and the pressure of the moment, the 83rd minute comes along. krieger pushes the ball away from a dutch forward and launches the ball in the air towards rose lavelle, the girl who scored the second goal moments before. 

rose, being closed in by dutch defenders, passed the ball behind her to kelley o’hara. kelley saw you were free and there was open space between you and her, so she launched the ball towards you. 

this was your chance. usually, you never tried to seek personal glory. however, something changed when that ball hit your ivory colored cleat.

your feet take the ball towards the goal. veenendaal, the dutch goalkeeper, sets herself up in a ready position as she sees her defenders failing to take the ball from you. 

as you race closer to the goal, the crowd gets louder. the orange defenders close in but you dribble around them effortlessly, a skill uswnt fans love seeing from your younger self. 

an oranje defender hit your body from the left side but it was too late. your foot was angled on the left side of the ball, making the outside of your right foot clear to launch a powerful shot at the goal. 

veenendaal dived a second too late, the ball hit the lower corner of the net, going in for the third goal of the world cup final. 

you didn’t take a moment to process your thoughts before you lifted yourself off of the grass and sprinted towards the corner of the pitch, the same corner megan raphinoe celebrated the first goal at an hour before. 

your hands were spread out wide as tears threatened to pour out of your eyes in joy. the look of happiness that you’ve never felt until now. 

“Y/N L/N THE YOUNGEST GOALSCORER IN A WORLD CUP FINAL!!” commentators screamed on television broadcasts as your teammates, both on and off of the pitch, ran to you and squeezed your adrenaline filled body. 

one month later, you’re back home in new york city. the rush of winning the world cup is still fresh– along with your popularity in the community skyrocketing due to your amazing world cup campaign. 

you missed france already-- a little too much. the bond you’ve had with your uswnt teammates there was indescribable. 

the world cup distracted you from your unfortunate situation at gotham fc too. 

you’re an amazing player and the world cup showed the world that, but your coach at gotham seemed to have an agenda against you. 

at first, you didn’t think so. you arrived at gotham six months ago and started for the first few games in the NWSL season, but it seems like the coach forgot about you after. 

the defensive style of the squad is something you didn’t prefer as well. your play style fit well with an attacking style of play, but your coach didn’t want that. 

after being benched for the big game against san diego wave, you had enough. 

your agent and yourself filled a request in to transfer clubs or go on loan. 

luckily for you, many clubs all over the world wanted the best U17 player. 

when lyon came knocking on your door, you were happy to accept a year long loan deal. 

at first, moving across the atlantic scared you. your older sister, whos much older than you, agreed to live with you until you’re eighteen that january, but you’ll be far away. 

however, lyon is the best club in the world. you would never say no simply because you were “a little uncomfortable” with the move. oh well, football comes with uncomfortable events.  

the uncomfortable events paid off well, since you're a starter for the champions league final against wolfsburg.

twenty minutes in, and you nearly had an opportunity to have the first goal of the final.

the ball was at lucy bronze's feet. you were free to accept her pass and did so. before you could pass the ball up to sommer-- Alex popp knocked you from behind and you were on the grass.

you were okay, and you got up fine afterwards. in fact-- you felt like that knock helped your nerves from playing your first champion's league final at the age of 18.

minutes later, sakina had the ball which prompted you to push forward. ingrid engen from wolfsburg kept her eyes on you, since she knows how fast and precise you were with the ball.

sakina tried to pass the ball up to kumagai, but pernille harder takes the ball. luckily, you were able to side tackle the ball from her. she fell, but you were at the ball so no yellow card was needed.

the noise around you were coaches yelling and players shouting at others in many languages. french, german, swedish, dutch, you name it.

its 2020, and there was no crowd due to covid. the empty chairs made it easy for your voice to echo.

you were close to being fluent in french after living in lyon for the last year, and having sakina and selma as your closest friends, so you opted to yell out to your teammates in that language instead of english--where the whole pitch might understand you.

renard had the ball with no wolfsburg player coming at her, so she took her time deciding on who to pass the ball to.

her pass to buchanan was clean, but svenja huth takes the ball from lucy as she runs to the middle.

svenja tries to pass the ball but it goes back to the defender in navy blue, renard.

the tall defender launches the ball at you running towards the right side. cascarino and you swap places as your feet quickly get inside of the box with the ball.

your left foot shoots the ball but the ball hits off of repohl-- wolfsburg's goalkeeper's, foot. the ball bounces towards le sommer, who shot the ball into the goal at the 25th minute.

le sommer high-fived you and hugged you as you both ran back into your positions. all season at lyon, you've had the highest number of assist-- and the third highest amount of goals.

the french club hopes to buy you from gotham, if there is no issue. your contract does say that there is no buy option involved, but they hope to try.

in the 44th minute, everyone was struggling to get their feet onto the ball. you were standing directly in the middle outside of the box when the ball was bounced back to you.

your left foot, your non-dominant one, launches the ball into the goal at a lightening speed. ingrid and alex popp didn't have the chance to stop you before your teammates screamed in celebration.

"when it fell-- it fell kindly for the american international who scores the second goal for lyon." a commentator speaks to the television audience as you ran to hug majri.

before the end of halftime, as you're ready to head back out onto the pitch, you frowned in realization.

after this fun season, you'll head back to the united states with a coach who wants nothing to do with you. you tried to stay optimistic and think about everything after the final is over, but the end of the season is in 45 minutes plus extra time.

"y/n bébé, garde la tête haute, tu as déjà marqué" (y/n baby, keep your head up, you've already scored) cascarino says as she places her hands on your shoulders. you relax into her hands as your head turns to face her stressed facial expression.

"ce n'est pas ça, je ne veux juste pas te quitter après ça" (that's not it, i just don't want to leave you after this) you whisper. your head leans back onto cascarino's head as she sighs.

"garde espoir, Lyon est content de t'avoir ici. Peut-être trouveront-ils un arrangement avec ton club d'origine" (keep hope, Lyon is happy to have you here. Maybe they will find an arrangement with your original club) cascarino whispers before you both jog out to the pitch.

"maybe.." you whisper to yourself after cascarino jogs away from you.

nothing much happened after halftime started, until alex popp scores a header. you weren't too afraid, since lyon are still up by one, but it's anyones game with thirty minutes left.

subs were made in the sixty-first minute for wolfsburg, so you stand beside cascarino to talk to her. as you look ahead at ewa leaving the pitch, you spot a familiar face entering.

the girl with a determined look jog onto the pitch, and you continue to look at her as she scans around the field. your mind itches, you know you've seen this girl somewhere before.

as she turns around with her back from you, you see 5 oberdorf.

again, you have no idea on who she is. you haven't played against wolfsburg until now, so maybe you played against her national team before? you had no idea.

wolfsburg had more possession this time around. you made a few tackles and won a few duals, but the german club was hungry to score an equalizer.

lucy got the ball away from pernille and passed the ball up to you.

you ran with the ball up the field. you dribbled around ingrid and alex popp effortlessly and your next move was to pass up to le sommer who was free.

all you heard was sakina yell "derrière toi!" (behind you) before you saw someone's leg coming from under you. your first reaction was to jump as the persons leg tripped you onto the grass.

your arms stopped your head from hitting the ground, but you turned to see that it was "oberdorf" who side tackled you.

"that should've been a yellow." you groaned to yourself as you stood up and wiped the grass stains off of your navy blue shorts.

"it was all ball, so no." oberdorf said back. your head quickly turned to her as she smirked at you.

so she's german.. hm. you thought as you recongized the accent.

a few minutes later, as lucy was preparing to throw the ball in-- oberdorf marked you as she stood beside you, not giving you a chance to escape her defense.

"get off of me!" you quietly said when she tried to hold your arm.

"lena, mark her!" ingrid yelled out as you quickly moved back to where lucy might throw.

you were sweaty at this point, but not too tired. a goal before halftime was what you needed to recharge your motivation and energy.

"you aren't getting another goal passed me." oberdorf says quickly. you shake your head as you look at her. the audacity.

"who are you talking to?" you snap.

"you." she smirked.

"well, oberdorf-- if you look at the scoreboard, you guys need another goal to equal us." you say as you both push back with bouhaddi, lyon's goalkeeper, was ready to hit the ball up the pitch.

"my name is lena." she scoffs as you went to saying her last name instead of her first.

"well, lena. its nice to meet you." you look ahead to see bouhaddi's kick.

the ball goes up to cascarino who heads the ball over to kumagai. you ran closer to offer help away from popp, but lena is chasing you.

the japanese decided to kick it back to renard so you move back to your natural spot. oberdorf follows you since she is assigned to mark you.

"what do you mean its nice to meet me? you met me last year." the german comments.

your mind seems to ease at this, you know that you've met her somewhere, and its fortunate that lena knows.

after a few minutes, you couldn't respond to her since the game is heating up. lucy cleared the ball out a few times, which caused a bunch of throw ins to occur.

fridolina rolfo almost scored after kicking from outside of the box, but the ball came straight to you. your body turned quickly, so her shot deflected off of your back and away from a chance of goal.

"where did we meet?" you ask as you end up near her again, waiting to defend the ball away from a free kick for wolfsburg by their goal.

"the adidas photoshoot during the world cup." she quietly says.

your conversations were quiet, since the empty stadium could echo your voice loudly if you were loudly talking.

the free kick was cleared by renard, but being on wolfsburg side of the pitch made you concerned. if lyon kept this up, wolfsburg might equalize.

luckily, in the 87th minute, lyon had a corner kick.

the kick was taken and it landed at your foot. you shot the ball towards the left side of the goal but it deflected off of janssen's foot.

the deflected landed on the back foot of gunnarsdottir and landed in the goal for the third goal of the final.

the group hug was filled with shouts that echoed throughout the stadium. after hugging dottir, cascarino and sakina patted your back as they jumped up and down around you.

"three goal contributions! you are insane." sakina says with her strong French accent, you smile as the end of the game is nearing. wolfsburg will have to pull of a miracle to beat lyon now.

in the last minute of extra time, oberdorf had you marked again. remembering what she said earlier, you smirked as you looked at her tense body position.

"I might've not scored against you, but I did get another assist." you say.

lena looked towards you with a straight face before responding, "ha ha" sarcastically.

when the whistle blows, you run to selma bacha who was on the line ready to be subbed in. she held you tightly as you repeatedly yelled, "we did it! we did it!"

after ellie carpenter hugged you for your one goal and two assists, you saw lena pulling pernille into a quick side hug.

saying that you didn't look at lena differently than all of the other girls would've been a lie. you found her attractive, and you know she knows she's attractive. that smirk wasn't fooling anyone.

"hey, great game lena." you said as you quickly hugged her. playing all 90 minutes made you tired, but you were okay since you're a champion's league winner.

she hugged you back. not to be weird, but you liked the way she smelled.

"thank you. can I have your shirt later?" she asks. you smirk at the idea of her wanting to swap jerseys with you.

"sure, as long as I can have yours." your eyebrows knitted together as you put your hands on her shoulders. lena smiled through her sad eyes and nodded her head at you.

part two here

<3

[edenxroseyposey]

Arcane Lessons

[ygsunflower]

【Spoiler Alert】 Orphan Black: Echoes 1x02

Why does Kira look like her non-biological aunt Delphine here 🥺

[melien]

💚🧡

[lesbianspeedy]

finished the orphan black audio series sequel. now what do i do to be happy

[imsog-a-ypeople]

WE NEED FANFICS

LOVE HOW ALL OF MY ORIGINAL POSTS ON TUMBLR ARE COMPLAINING ABOUT HOW THERE'S LITTLE AMOUNT OR NO AMOUNT OF FANFICS ABOUT A CERTAIN CHARACTER

REALLY LAUGHING AT MYSELF RN

[anaptian-champion]

[ATTACHED PHOTO: Ryu's Gardevoir (Delphine) and shiny Hydreigon (Asphodel) are hanging out; Asphodel is curled up and resting in the grass while Delphine is petting her. They both look content]

anyone else ever see a fairy type and dragon type getting along before? you're obligated to show pics if so :3c

[pagan-corruption]

Imagine being a baby boomer who has made a routine to follow this fitness show for decades only for it to be replaced with closeups of Belle Delphine twerking.

[geronimosong]

Okay, for a long time, I had a head cannon. Now that we have a great new adaptation, it is a good time to share it.

I firmly believe that the Neriad Percy meets after his fall from St. Louis Arch is Amphitrite, the Sea Goddess and Wife of Posiedon. Why do I believe this well? Firstly, she is the highest regarded Nereid, and after Amphitrite married Poseidon, the Nereids became part of their royal court.

I wasn't quite sure what to do, so I bowed. "You're the woman who spoke to me in the Mississippi River." "Yes, child. I am a Nereid, a spirit of the sea. It was not easy to appear so far upriver, but the naiads, my freshwater cousins, helped sustain my life force. They honor Lord Poseidon, though they do not serve in his court." "And … you serve in Poseidon's court?" She nodded. "It has been many years since a child of the Sea God has been born. We have watched you with great interest."

"If my father is so interested in me," I said, "why isn't he here? Why doesn't he speak to me?" A cold current rose out of the depths. "Do not judge the Lord of the Sea too harshly," the Nereid told me. "He stands at the brink of an unwanted war. He has much to occupy his time. Besides, he is forbidden to help you directly. The gods may not show such favoritism.' "Even to their own children?" "Especially to them. The gods can work by indirect influence only. That is why I give you a warning, and a gift." She held out her hand. Three white pearls flashed in her palm. - Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief

Theseus and Amphitrite, Athenian red-figure kylix C5th B.C., Metropolitan Museum of Art

Secondly, in mythology, King Minos questions Theseus's parentage with a ring thrown into the sea. Proving his connection to Poseidon, Theseus dives, carried by dolphins, to Poseidon's palace. Amphitrite treats him as a son, gifting him a purple cloak and a crown. Theseus triumphantly returns to his ship with these divine presents, reminiscent of Percy's encounter with a Nereid in "Lightning Thief."

Though Theseus proves his parentage to Poseidon, the god is not in the underwater palace. Theseus gains the ability to breathe underwater from Amphitrite. This parallels Percy's first underwater experience. You might ask why his stepmom would decide to help him; well, it is her kingdom that is at unwanted war, and Percy is her hope, too. In Riordan's own words, Poseidon and her have an open relationship:

“Most of the gods are jerks,” Delphin agreed. “And they have a lot of girlfriends even after they get married—” “Gah!” Amphitrite said. “I wouldn’t care about that. I’m not the jealous type. I just don’t want to be mistreated. I want to be my own person, do my own thing, without some man lording over me!”

As the years went by, Amphitrite discovered that Delphin was right. She did love her children even more than seabass, and most of the time Poseidon was a very good husband. He did have a lot of affairs with nymphs and mortals and whatnot, but strangely that didn’t bother Amphitrite so much. As long as Poseidon didn’t try to own her and tell her what to do, and as long as he was good to their three children, Amphitrite was cool. She was even nice to Poseidon’s demigod children, unlike some other goddesses I could name. (Cough, Hera, cough.) One time the hero Theseus came to visit, and Amphitrite treated him like an honored guest. She even gave him a purple cloak to wear, which was a sign of kingship. She’s been pretty cool to me, too. She doesn’t freak out when I leave my dirty laundry in the guest room. She makes cookies for me. She’s never tried to kill me that I know of. Pretty much all you could ask of an immortal stepmom. - Percy Jackson's Greek Gods

The description that Percy gives of Neriad matches the way he describes Amphitrite in Percy Jackson's Greek Gods, Although it could be argued that all the Neriads are described in the same Percy imagines the Neriad to resemble his mom because of the warmth she emits.

She had flowing black hair, a dress made of green silk. Light flickered around her, and her eyes were so distractingly beautiful I hardly noticed the stallion-sized sea horse she was riding. - Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief

She came in riding a hippocamps, in traditional depictions Amphitrite is represented either enthroned beside Poseidon or driving with him in a chariot drawn by sea-horses (hippocamps). It is one of her queenly attributes that separates her from the other Nereids along with her crown.

Amphitrite was gorgeous. The more she tried to avoid the gods, the more they pursued her. Her black hair was pinned back in a net of pearls and silk. Her eyes were as dark as mocha. She had a kind smile and a beautiful laugh. Usually, she dressed in a simple white gown. - Percy Jackson's Greek Gods

Amphitrite sat on a coral ledge, watching the sunset filter through the deep water and make rosy streaks in the seaweed forests. A seabass lay in her open palm, all blissed out, because Amphitrite really had a way with fish. Normally I don’t think of sea bass as cuddly, but they loved her. Delphin could see why Poseidon liked her. She radiated a sort of kindness and gentleness that you don’t see in a lot of immortals. Usually with gods, the longer they lived, the more they acted like spoiled children. Delphin wasn’t sure why, but that whole thing about getting wiser as you got older? Not so much. - Percy Jackson's Greek Gods

Hestia is the only other God that Percy has such an honorable description of in this entire book. This is significant. So, I can't wait to see if the show proves my theory to be right or not.

[maxrowave]

GENDERBEND RAHHHHHH

i love drarry and i love women so put it together and you get this, i present to you: Harphine

Harry is consequently now named Harley; Draco is also now named Delphine (Full name Delphinus Lucius Malfoy, however asks to be referred to as Delphine because it's pretty). I decided to keep everyone else the same because the world centres around them. Delphine is the ultimate coquette girl, lana del rey wishes she could be as coquette as her. Mega popular girl and a trendsetter, one day she wears a headband to school, the next day, half the female students are as well. Extreme closet gay, internalised homophobia...

Harley on the other hand is a major tom-boy, as a toddler and young childhood she probably had a buzzcut or short hair because her hair was too much maintenance for the Dursley's. She also wore Dudley's old clothes so she was mistaken for a boy for most of her young life, she only began to grow it out when she started attending Hogwarts and got a major glow-up in third year. and now the multitude of headcanons: 1) Delphine resorts to flirting to get her way with male students, however it is only by accident does Harley discover Delphine is prudent when she flirts with her. Delphine immediately goes red, sputtering incoherently:

"MY FATHER WILL HEAR OF THIS!!!" "good, I'm glad he knows about me so it won’t be as awkward to meet him when I'm over for dinner"

Harley uses this to her advantage and begins to spread rumours about Delphine to finally get back at her for all these years 'Pure Blood Delphine Malfoy, sole heir, is a homosexual?!' It gets out of hand and Delphine's rep gets ruined or somethin

2) Harley is a bit of an artist, she likes drawing/doodling. One day she's sitting in potions class, not listening because fuck that, idly drawing on her parchment without much thought, only for her to realise that hey... this kind of looks like Delphine, and then realising she's just been drawing Delphine in various sitting poses for the past half an hour.

3) Even though Harley really hates Delphine, she has to admit, she's really fucking gorgeous, and in an odd way Harley kind of admires how put together she is. Harley does try to imitate her makeup one day because she wants to know how it feels to be pretty/put together, it turns out shite, Ron laughs at her, Harley beats him up; Delphine also laughs at her. But when they do become good friends, like fifth year or so, Delphine does do her makeup (imagine that one img of the girl on top of the other doing her eyeshadow, that's them).

3.5) Slight extension from the previous one, I mentioned this on my xwitter awhile back -- Harry purposely messes up his tie so Draco can fix it, because Draco's love language is to clean up people, i.e brushing lint off their shoulder, adjusting their collar, kind of like a cat. In this genderbent au, Harley messes up her lipstick everytime so Delphine can redo it.

4) Delphine is a massive closeted lesbian, and is pining for Harley in her own odd way. When they begin to get close, Delphine instictually reels back, because she's used to playing hard-to-get with other guys as a flirting method. She doesn't quite register that it doesn't work with girls, which leaves Harley wondering what she did wrong and why Delphine isn't as interested.

5) When they do finally get into a relationship, most likely like sixth/seventh year, it's very low-key and secretive because Delphine still has internalised homophobia/closeted. But Lucius ends up arranging her marriage because she's an only child and a female to the Malfoy name. What happens next is idk

6) Lucius either dotes on Delphine like a child who is in constant need of being helped and cannot be independent, or never speaks to her ever because he's disappointed he has a daughter.

OKAY THATS IT, I HAVE MORE HEADCANONS THAT I WILL POUR IF ENOUGH ASK FOR IT LOL... i wanna see if I can make Harphine their genderbend ship name, it's cute

also boobs bc im gay and so are they

[maeevel]

In my mind I always liked to think that Percy culd never become a god. After seeing what kind of a god Hercules became (some glorified bouncer basically) I kinda never liked the idea of Percy becoming a god.

Imagine doing all that just to become a minor god. A god still. But a minor god. In a time where pple don't even worship the gods.

I once read a fic from Poseidon's point of view and he was lamenting percy not choosing godhood when it was offered. He went ahead and blamed Aphrodite for it. Because of Percy's love for Annabeth he didn't was to ascend and leave her behind.

But Aphrodite countered that it's better this way. You want to see him ascend and basically become some glorified errand boy? Like Hercules? He countered and said percy wuld he honoured at his side. Aphrodite countered and said he already had Delphin and Triton for that.

Even in the books, meeting Hercules and seeing the person he was post godhood solidified and reassured Percy that his decision to reject godhood was the right. Anything to avoid becoming like THAT person.

There's something sad abt heroes who become God's in my opinion. I don't know what it is. The ichor that flows in their veins instead of blood? I don't know. But they're all... Out of touch somehow.

It's like they've totally forgotten what it's like to be mortal. They can't relate to the average hero anymore. And relate more to the casual cruelty, superiority and ambivalence of the gods more. Another example of this is Dionysus.

Bro used to be mortal. A hero. And now he has a dad bod and said all those cruel things to percy in book 3 when he went on that quest. Talking shot abt heroes all together. Where did that venom come from?.

I don't know but I think I understand Apollo now when he says he doesn't want to see her rosy blush replaced by a golden one.

One of Percy's best qualities is the fact that he's human. His best parts come from the fact that he's Sally Jackson's son (and in this case SHE'S Sally Jackson's daughter) it wuld be sad to that part dissappear.

This is becoming a very very long ask now. But I guess what I'm trying to say is, what I think I like (and what Apollo likes too maybe) is the Duality of Percy. He's obviously a big fan of the monster bits of her. But the gentleness too. The kindness and sweetness. He was Jealous of it wasn't he?

Jealous that everyone seemed to get her kindness. Her smiles. Everyone but him. She treated everyone so gently but she was cold to the gods and then cruel to him after he kidnapped her.

So maybe percy can become immortal. But does she need to become a goddess?

Yes, agreed! Tho I loooove fics where Percy ascends on his own, like for example in Tartarus. Something really tragic about his own powers outreaching him so much that they can't be contained within a mortal body 😭 Or when he ascends because the campers are starting to pray to him or burning offerings to him. It's just so good lol

And yes, Apollo knows fully that Percy would HATE to be a goddess. He wants to keep her forever, but he is also fascinated by all the things that make her mortal. So how does he keep her forever without losing that? Making her immortal without her being a goddess could be one thing, you're right about that 👀

[thatfrailsoul]

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Details from the painting "La Lettre", by Delphin Enjolras

See the full painting at the end!♡

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Slow down for a moment. Allow your heart to guide you, to tell you if there is really a message here for you... And whatever the answer is, feel free to listen to it or to let go. Remembering that when you will be ready or will have the need, your true message will find its way to you.♡

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As much as the love, the affection, is deep between your hearts... Fortunately is not the only connection that binds your lives right now. It's not only about the relationship, if you will be by eachother's side in the far or near future, if these conflicts will be resolved now...

This moment of struggle and challenge that makes you both pay more attention to the other person, makes you get closer in hopes to understand and work it out, is all about a way more significant bond that doesn't stop at a friendship or love.

It's the one that goes further and deeper, connecting you as people, as souls, that feel completely safe being side by side. A family like tenderness and understanding, readiness to put our own misconceptions aside and truly listen, hear what the other person desperately needs to let out.

What is between you is overwhelmingly sweet and loving, something that you both looked for for so long. And even though now, in this moment of misunderstandings and different opinions, the idea, a possibility that this might be enough to ruin it is so scary for your heart... It will only get stronger.

It will show you how much it means, for you and them. Because you will see for yourself the work, the desire, the patience in taking care of this and resolve it together that you will both bring to the table. Facing courageously the fear that the shift in your mindsets and maturing, realizing more, will bring in your lives. Clearing out all the doubts that your mind could've still have.

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We are so deeply afraid of losing the most beautiful and precious things. We wander for how long we will have them in our life. And we obsessively imagine all the things, the situations, that can go wrong and take it away from us. Because we can't help but see an ending as a bad thing, a disgrace, a lack of something that we couldn't make stay.

We never see it as protection, an answer, some help to make us understand more about ourselves and that one thing, that person, without which we are afraid to fade. And it's something that you will face, that you will be gently forced to understand after these events.

When everything will become suddenly silent after so many arguments and tears, that it will cause even more pain... You will taste it, perhaps for the first time, the sweet sourness of accepting and letting go of something that for so long and with such passion you felt yours, needed for you to be able to breathe and feel alive.

And you will feel yourself smile, through all the sadness of a wound that will still be so fresh, with your lips, your heart, your soul. As you will become aware and so proud of your courage to care for someone so deeply as well as letting them go, surrendering to the knowledge that it is for the best, for you and them. And being mesmerized by the way this world teaches us and protects us, even if we understand it after so long.

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"La Lettre", Delphin Enjolras

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[lovelizards]

"I believe I expressly instructed you not to disturb me."

The sheer silken curtains shifted in a fresh breeze from the window, as her servants set about refreshing the room for evening. The garish orange glow of sunset painted her room like the inside of a fire.

With a groan, she pushed herself up and rubbed the headache out of her temples.

"You did, Mistress."

"And so? What in the hell are you all doing in here, then? Do you want to die?"

The younger maids, the new ones, hesitated for a moment and exchanged nervous glances. But her butler - the only human, and the only man she would ever deign to allow in her home - gave her a calm smile.

"The non-human market is being hosted tonight, Mistress. And I believed that you might like to search for something new. Fresh blood has always raised your spirits."

"Hah," she sighed, and fell back on her bed.

Her hair spread out beneath her like dark waves of a river ready to carry her to a watery grave.

And as she stared up into the shifting amber shadows of the silken canopy, she wondered - as she did every sunset - if the light left from the setting sun would be enough to turn her to ashes.

"Raise my spirits?" She repeated, too weary to even bother with skepticism, "Fresh or old, it all tastes the same. Do you imagine there could be such a thing left in this world?"

The maids set the fire in her hearth to crackling as the last of the sunlight slipped away behind the horizon.

"Perhaps, Mistress."

Was it worth going to all that effort for a 'perhaps'?

"I don't want to," she said, draping an arm over her eyes.

She didn't want to get up, to get dressed and put makeup on, to travel all the way to the black market and walk around for hours staring at caged creatures. The smells made her nauseous, and she couldn't stand the sounds of screaming and sobbing.

She was tired of it. Tired of everything.

"I've heard tell that Lord Artur Gerwald will be vending at this particular event, Mistress."

"Hah!" She shot up again, with a fury in her eyes, "That pompous little rat! How dare he show his face again! I ought to go and -!"

She stopped, catching herself, and realising she'd steppd right into a trap by her annoyingly clever butler - whose polite smile she noticed was ever so slightly too pleased.

"Shall I call for a carriage, Mistress?"

Damn it all.

She couldn't stand the idea of going.

But now that she knew the blond Gerwald brat was going to be there, she couldn't stand the idea of leaving him alone, either.

"Fine," she sighed, waving a hand and rolling onto her side, "send Lillith to help me dress in twenty minutes. Leave me until then."

"As you wish, Mistress."

The door closed after him with a click, and Delphine closed her eyes.

It was all so meaningless.

『 Previous / Next 』

[hard--headed--woman]

I briefly talked about it with someone here and it made me think so much that I had to make a post about it - why don't misandrist men get as much hate as misandrist women ?

They are men who think men are horrible and say it. Yet they do not receive the same amount of hate as a feminist saying "I hate men".

There's an example that I find interesting and that I thought I'd share : some decades ago, a very famous leftist french singer, Renaud, made a song that quickly became very popular and loved. It's called "Miss Maggie" and it basically says that men are trash and that women are superior. The thing is, absolutely everyone praises him for it and loves that song. I guess there are some conservatives and incels who hate it, but the vast majority of the country, men and women, loves it ; people say Renaud is amazing and a genius for writing it and that the song is wonderful. Here is a link if you want to listen to it :

(He also criticizes Margaret Tatcher in that song but I won't talk about it in this post because it's not the point).

Here are some lyrics (with the english translation) just so you understand what I'm talking about :

(Bourgeois women or whores

Who are often the very same

Normal women, stars or uglies

Females of all kinds, I love you

Even to the worst moron

I dedicate these few verses

Born of my disgust for men

And their warrior morality

Because no woman on the planet

Will ever be more stupid than her brother

Nor prouder nor more dishonest)

(Woman I love you because

When sport becomes war

There are no chicks, or very few

In the hordes of fans

Crazy fanatics

Drunk on hate and beer

Defying the morons in blue

Insulting the bastards in green)

(The atomic bomb

Didn't come from a female brain

And no woman has on her hands

The blood of Native Americans.

Palestinians and Armenians

Testify from their graves

That genocides are a male thing

Like SS, bullfighters

In this fucking humanity

Murderers are all brothers

Not a woman to compete)

(Woman I love you, above all, at last

For your weakness and for your eyes

When a man's only strength

Is his gun or his cock

And when the last hour comes

Hell will be full of morons

Playing soccer or war

Playing who pisses the farthest)

Everyone loves that song and Renaud didn't receive any hate for writing it. Now imagine if a woman had written it? Just imagine the amount of hate a female singer would receive if she wrote a song like this. That could ruin her carreer and I am not exaggerating.

Renaud is also known for saying other misandrist things. I remember watching an interview with him, in which he's said that "Women are always there to heal wounds, repair damage, get things done... Unfortunately, there are still too few of them in important positions where they can participate in decision-making", "The oldest form of discrimination is discrimination against women. They are the first group we decided to hate and oppress", "Politicians and religions don't want to let women be more than virgins or whores. They don't want to let them be human beings, women, fulfilled people, with a personality, who work...", "It's not long since women have had the right to vote in France. And what's more, when I see women voting for a man, it gives me the same feeling as if I saw a crocodile going to a leather shop of its own free will...".

And in the comments, absolutely everyone was praising him, calling him a king, an angel and what not. No one to call him names or to tell him horrible things. No one to act as if he's said the craziest thing ever, no one to act as if he committed a crime. Sure some people disagree and insult women, but there is not a lot of hatred against him. Again, a woman would have received a lot of hate if she had said things like that. Just read what men have to say about Delphine Seyrig criticizing the patriarchy and the "indifference of men".

The point of that post isn’t to say that Renaud is The Feminist Ally, that he's perfect and one of the good guys or whatever. I just want to point out that a man criticizing men, saying he hates them, calling out their behaviour (and even saying women are superior!) will never receive the same amount of hate as a woman barely saying "I hate men" or ever way "nicer" things. Sounds like everyone knows why we hate men and even agrees with us deep inside, and just hate when women speak up about it. Sounds like they don't have a problem with misandry but with women 🤷🏽‍♀️

[fizziepopangel]

* Author's note: Hey, everyone! I know I've been slacking on posting, but I'm definitely getting back into writing and I'm happy to give you guys this Alastor fic! Please do keep in mind that English is the only language I speak fluently though, so I did my best to translate two phrases into Creole via Google translate and internet research, so forgive me if I botched it and let me know kindly if I need to fix it. Also, as usual, I don't know the artist for the drawing so if anyone knows, please let me know so I can tag them. Other than that, enjoy!! ~ Fizzie

P. S. "Mwen manke ou"= I miss you, "Mwen renmen ou manman"= I love you, mama

Mama's Boy

Alastor woke up feeling… off somehow. His heart felt heavier for some reason, and although he still wore his signature smile, he felt no joy within himself as he walked the halls of the hotel today; not even when Husk slipped on Niffty’s freshly waxed floors and crashed into the hall table. And everyone had noticed it. He heard the whispers, saw the strange looks they all gave him as he passed them. He ignored it all until he went back to the room, feeling rather drained from carrying this heavy feeling with him all day despite it only being midmorning… But as he took off his coat and hung it on the rack, the calendar caught his eyes.

“May 28th… How could I have forgotten..” Alastor said softly, looking at the circled date. He muttered under his breath as he made his way over to the bed and gingerly picked up the photo on his nightstand. Running his thumb along the framed photo, he lets out a soft sigh, almost as if he could breathe this heavy feeling that settled in his chest if he tried… But he knew he couldn’t. He never could.

“Mwen manke ou….” He whispered, looking into the glass of the photo’s frame and trying to focus on just the photo and not his own reflection in it. “I can’t believe how much I miss you, mother.”

He stared at the photo, breathing deeply and willing himself not to cry as he seemed to relive memory after memory of times when his smile wasn't so fake.

“Hey, Smiles! Charlie said dinner’s almost done!” Angel Dust called through the door enthusiastically as he knocked, but Alastor couldn’t bring himself to answer as he continued to stare at the photo in his now trembling hands. “Smiles? You in there?” Alastor wanted to respond, but he just couldn’t pull his focus away from the photo in his hands. He didn’t even register the sound of his door open or the feeling of the bed sinking a little bit as Angel sat beside him. There was a moment of quiet between the two as Angel looked at the picture the man held. He frowned, knowing that the radio demon didn’t like pictures so he couldn’t imagine him keeping one….

A woman with deep tan skin stood in the old framed photo, her mouth opened and eyes closed in what Angel could only imagine was a boisterous laugh as the child she held in her arms gave the camera an innocent gap toothed grin. The woman wore a tattered apron, but she had smears of something across her cheek and the curls that could be seen peeking out from beneath the head scarf she wore seemed to be coated in what he assumed was flour. The little one in her arms seemed to be covered in it too….

Everything about the photo made Angel ache for home.

“Oh… Is…Is that….?” Angel muttered softly as he looked at the photo the other man held, something clicking in his brain. Alastor nodded, tears starting to spill down his cheeks despite the cheshire cat smile on his lips. “Alastor…”

Before the spider demon could say anything more, Alastor’s shaky voice cut him off. “Her name was Delphine.” Alastor stroked the frame over his mother’s image, his ears tucking back as he felt the well of sadness begin to swirl within him. “She… died a few years before I did.”

“Is she-”

As if sensing the question on Angel’s tongue before it even falls off, the radio demon shakes his head, chuckling through his tears. “My mother was as pure as they came, she….” His voice cracked and his smile faltered as the dam of emotions finally began to break. “She always belonged among the saints….”

That was the first time since he entered hell that he had ever really spoken to anyone about his mother…. All the talk Charlie did of redemption made him think of her from time to time, and maybe he had let his guard down around a certain barkeep after a few too many drinks that were just a bit too strong, but this was the first time he truly admitted to himself that he would never see her again given the fact that he knew he deserved to rot right where he was and she…. never deserves to see even a hint of the tamest parts of the realm he'd damned himself to….

Angel sat there, not sure what to say or do as he watched the radio demon facade crack; the perma-smile that had sat unnervingly on his lips seemed to waver and his perfect posture dropped as tears slowly made their way down the sinner’s cheeks.

Angel hesitated for a moment before he rested a hand on Alastor’s shoulder, hoping that in this moment of vulnerability the demon wouldn't mind being touched. “I-it’s ok to miss her….. ya know, I think about my mom and my sister every day….. I…. I miss them a lot…”

Despite himself, Alastor felt a sob bubbling up from somewhere deep inside of him finally ripping free. His shoulders shook and snot dripped from his nose as he tried to hide his face, his smile vanishing without so much as a trace. He felt like a child as he sat there blubbering but he couldn't stop himself from crying the more he thought about his mother.

As the radio demon struggled to contain his sobs, a pair of arms encircled him and pull him close against a thin but solid frame.

“Just…. Let it out, Smiles…” Angel said in his gentlest tone, pulling the other demon against his chest and holding him as he cried. “It’s ok.”

The two sat there like that for what felt like hours, but the clock on Alastor’s bedside table told them that it had only been a few minutes before the tears seemed to stop. They both sat there, neither comfortable enough to break the silence they found themselves in until a soft knock brought them both out of the heavy, daze they both seemed to be in.

“Alastor?” Charlie called through the door. “Everyone’s already eating dinner…. We were gonna wait for you, but it was getting cold….” Her words were hesitant. “Alastor?”

The radio demon straightened up at the sound of his name, and as if he had rehearsed it, he began drying his eyes and smoothing his clothes, his signature smile plastered across his face. It baffled Angel…. He was used to faking smiles, acting however he had to to please whatever audience was in front of him at any given moment, but he had never thought of anyone else having that same ability, and certainly not someone like Alastor.

As Alastor grabbed his staff and headed toward the door, Angel grabbed his arm, unable to stop himself. “Ya know… You don’t have to go to dinner if you don’t wanna…” There was a flash of something in Alastor’s eyes. Most would have mistaken it for annoyance or anger, but Angel knew that look. “I’ll save ya a plate and bring it up later.”

“Thank you.” A genuine smile crossed the man’s face, probably the first one Angel had ever seen, apart from the one that came with near manic laughter whenever Lucifer tripped and face-planted over something the radio demon’s shadow left out solely for that purpose. But this wasn’t that, this was something softer, something that reminded Angel of the woman in the picture.

Angel left, catching up with Charlie about halfway down the stairs. “Hey, wait up!”

“Oh, I just came from your room.” Charlie said, looking mildly concerned. “What happened? I thought you were going to get Alastor for dinner?”

“Oh, uh, yeah… Smiles said he had a headache, so he ain’t comin’ down.” Angel said as they made their way downstairs. “I told him we’d save him a plate.”

Seeming to accept the answer, Charlie nodded and continued down the stairs, already beginning to talk the spider demon’s ear off as they made their way to the kitchen. Neither of them noticed the radio demon’s shadow slithering along the walls, back to his room.

Alastor sat on the edge of his bed, the photo of him and his mother in his hands. “I trust Angel Dust was…. discrete about our little heart to heart?” He asks, not bothering to look up from the photo as his shadow slipped into the room. When his shadow nodded, he let out a breath he hadn’t even noticed he’d been holding until then. “Good.”

Looking back down at the photo, he let one more soft, genuine smile grace his features. He let his finger gently stroke the photo through the glass, ignoring the fresh round of tears threatening to spill. “Mwen renmen ou manman….”

[aheathen-conceivably]

📩 Simblr question of the day: It's time to appreciate the small things! What's a small detail from one of your posts that you love? Could be a small tattoo on a sim, specific clutter in a sims' room, a little detail in a render or screenshot, whatever is applicable to you

OHHHH!! I love this one 👀🤗

And whew, do I ever. I spend an ungodly amount of time adding in details to the background or in sims outfits. Like I gradually cleaned up the 1930s farmhouse over time, removing cobwebs and trash and replacing them with keepsakes, or Jo and Gio’s room which changed as Jo’s mental state fluctuated.

As it got worse and worse, the one little space she called her own became more and more cluttered with things she might have used to distract herself. Sprinkled amongst them as the time goes on are more and more flowers, which I imagine Gio either picked or spent what little money they had on. Then by the time the space she really considers her own (her own physical self) has returned to what she considers normal, it’s all been cleaned up again (although not to exact state it was in before)…

But something I’ve really been ~emotional~ about lately is keeping heirlooms visible in the background and sneaking them into certain scenes to show how they move throughout time and space; and while they may remain static, the people and settings around them change. Of course one of the most visible has probably been….

But really, you can also see this with multiple photographs, particularly the ones Zelda keeps of her parents or siblings. I also try to do it with physical objects too, such as the clock from the Duplanchier's mantle in New Orleans (which is now near their photo wall in Strangerville), and, of course Violette’s music box, which belonged to her grandmother Delphine and then Josephine before it was hers...

...and I'm sure we haven't seen the last of it either 😉