#even if you continued to miniaturize everything else

[askshivanulegacy]

This is a great breakdown of phone cameras and worth a read if you do most of your photography with a phone.

Phone cameras are comparable to or better than many point-and-shoot digital cameras (especially older generation cameras, and this has been the case for several years now). But there is no such thing as a "pro" phone camera, just like there's no such thing as a "pro" point-and-shoot.

You can get really great photos and they can absolutely serve your needs. It's a fantastic solution if you're not in a position to carry extra gear with you.

But they are not "pro".

They can also be a perfectly acceptable tool for photography as an art form. You use the tools and explore and maximise their capabilities as you feel driven to. You certainly limit yourself in major ways with a camera phone, but that's part of the art. ALL photography is bound by the limits of your tool, and the entire point is to work within those and push your craft to see what you can do. So you can use the camera phone AS a pro (i.e. someone who understands the tool and principles of photography), but you have to understand the tool for that.

If you want a pro camera though, get a real camera.

Also, you need to identify the type of photography you like or want to do in order to choose the right camera.

I do a LOT of handheld, low-light photography w/o flash (museums, early or late hiking, etc.) so the sacrifice of low light quality in these cameras is the wrong decision, to me. But I also have a real camera which specifically caters to what I do. You just need to choose the tool or work within the bounds of what you have.

Smartphone cameras are NOT getting worse. (See below for phone photography tips)

I've now seen 3 pro photographers reviewing the iPhone 16 and complaining the cameras are "worse" and blaming Apple for not including revolutionary new camera technology.

And I suppose this is partly Apple's fault. Their marketing and hype machine always goes overboard. But also, that's just how marketing works. Samsung has a "200 megapixel" sensor and Sony has a "Zeiss" lens. And I think it is unrealistic to expect smartphone companies to say "This product has entered the iterative phase and each new model will only be marginally improved over the last one."

Smartphones (from any brand) have become an appliance. You don't buy a new model of microwave every year. And you don't expect every new model of microwave to have new revolutionary technology. And that is pretty much the expectation you should have with most computer hardware from here on out.

And in some ways, that is a good thing. That means the design of the phone has pretty much been perfected and it will last you a long time if you take care of it. You will not be left behind and your phone will be able to handle any new software for most of its lifespan.

So, is Apple getting lazy or is there a reason their hardware is stagnating?

It seems that neither money nor marketing can change the laws of physics.

They cannot make transistors much smaller. Phones and computers are about as fast as current hardware designs can make them (unless there is a shocking scientific breakthrough). From here on out, heavy compute tasks that are beyond your phone or computer will be done in the cloud on giant computer clusters. Thankfully computers and phones seem to be plenty fast for the majority of tasks we ask of them.

I remember Katrina telling me her new computer didn't seem any faster. And I explained the computing tasks she does regularly were not really affected by the increased power and speed of her new computer. If something took 0.1 seconds before and now it takes 0.05 seconds, that is twice as fast. An increase in speed that looks fantastic in advertisements. But it is hard for our brains to perceive. She just didn't do anything on her computer that took it long enough for her to notice. But having a faster and more powerful computer/phone will increase its lifespan and resale value, so it is still prudent to get the best things you can afford at time of purchase.

And I'm afraid smartphone cameras are hitting their own hardware limitations. They can't make the sensors much larger to get better depth of field and low light performance. And cramming in more megapixels doesn't actually add much more detail, if any.

It's physics.

Again.

You cannot get any more performance out of a small plastic lens. Why do you think pro photographers haul around 10 pound lenses still?

There is a formula for detail that never seems to be explained in any camera marketing.

Here is the simplified version...

Detail = Sensor x Lens

Let's say 1 is perfection. You have a sensor that performs at 0.5 and a lens that performs at 0.2.

The total detail will be 0.1.

But in the new model you increase the performance of the sensor to 0.8. WOW! That's so close to 1!

The total detail will be... 0.16.

Now let's imagine we've discovered a magic, physics-defying tiny plastic lens that performs at 0.8 as well.

The total detail jumps to 0.64!

But we all get sucked into a wormhole because we violated the laws of the universe.

Even if you were to design a near perfect (perfect is impossible) sensor that scores 0.99.

Without that magic plastic lens... 0.198

This is why I put Samsung's "200 megapixel" sensors in quotes. Because when paired with the same tiny plastic lens, there isn't much improvement. And that's why a 12 megapixel DSLR from 10 years ago with a giant honking lens can still capture more detail.

Most of the quality from smartphone cameras comes from the computational software processing. Phones actually take many photos at once and combine them to get you a decent image.

While that is still improving a little bit each generation, those improvements are stagnating as well. Until image processing can do a better job of inventing more detail realistically, smartphones are going to have to obey the laws of physics.

So... why are photographers saying the iPhone cameras are worse?

First, the ultra wide angle lens looks softer in low light.

And if you zoom between 1x and 5x, the images look less detailed.

But neither of those things make the cameras *worse*. In fact, the cameras are better for the most part. It's just that Apple decided to compromise on one aspect to improve another. Probably due to market research telling them most people prioritize certain things over others when taking photos.

They increased the resolution of the ultra wide angle sensor to match the detail of the main sensor, but that seems to have lowered the low light performance of the ultra wide. So in good light, you will see an improvement in sharpness. But they could not increase the sensor size to compensate and smaller pixels can have trouble with dim conditions. They probably discovered that people mostly use that lens in good light and they would appreciate the bump in detail more.

But pro photographers often photograph in more challenging lighting conditions because you can capture a more artistic shot. I don't think I could have gotten this shot on a smartphone.

But photo normies are just taking pics of their kids doing weird kid shit.

They aren't really trying to push the limits of their ultra wide angle lenses.

And they increased the zoom of the telephoto lens to 5x from 3x because most people never used the 3x. So images at 5x look great now, but unfortunately if you use anything between 1x and 5x, your image will be *digitally* zoomed. Which is never as good as optical zoom. They basically crop the photo, zoom in, and add sharpening.

So they prioritized people having longer reach and more zoom at the expense of that middle zoom range. Every camera system makes tradeoffs and compromises.

And I hate that I always feel like I am defending Apple, because they do have misleading and dishonest marketing regarding a lot of aspects of their tech. But hating on Apple gets more clicks so content creators also make misleading and dishonest claims.

And so we are just surrounded in a circle of hyperbole from all sides.

Now, if you know these limitations, you can change your approach to photographing stuff to keep them from being an issue. You can reap the benefits without dealing with the new compromises.

Here are some tips to help owners of the new iPhone, but also everyone else too.

Smartphone Photography Tips

Whenever possible, try to use the main 1x camera at only 1x zoom. This has the largest sensor with the most detail and works best in the lowest light. Only use the ultra wide or telephoto if you cannot get the photo otherwise. If you aren't sure you have enough light for ultra wide, take the photo, and then as a safety, take two photos with the main camera side by side and stitch them later with a pano app.

"Zoom with your feet" and don't use "in-between" zooms. Let's say your lenses do 0.5x, 1x, and 5x zoom. Even though you have the option to use other zooms, like 2x or 3x, that is going to compromise your picture quality. It is essentially going to crop your photo and enlarge it, which causes a loss of detail. If fact, if you use 4.5x instead of 5x, your picture will probably look like trash. You are always going to get better results if you can move closer or step back so that you are using the native focal length of your chosen lens. For example, let's say you are taking a photo and you judge the best framing to be at 4x. But you still have 10 feet of space behind you. If you back up and then zoom in to 5x, the phone will switch to that lens and you will get a much clearer picture.

Rule of thumb...

1 to 3x... try to move closer.

4 to 5x... try to move back.

If you hit a wall and end up at 4.5x, you might see if you have a panorama mode and try that instead. Switch to your 5x and do the pano. Or you can take two photos and then stitch them together with software later on. (Stitching panos with an app later will give better quality than pano mode, especially in low light.)

Low light needs stability. Get some sort of stabilizing device for low light photos. Either a phone case that lets you stand up the phone on its own or a mini tripod.

This thing folds to the size of a credit card.

Your phone will detect when it is stable and not being handheld. It will then automatically extend its shutter speed allowing it to drink in more light and give you a better picture.

Tripods are photography magic and will improve your low light photos quite a bit. Motion blur of moving subjects can still be an issue, but photos of a cityscape or landscape will look great.

For selfies, shoot a little bit wide and then crop in. This goes a little contrary to my earlier advice saying cropping lowers detail, but this is specifically for shooting a face. The 0.5x and 1x lenses on smartphone cameras are fairly wide angle. This can cause unflattering proportions with human faces. Wide angle lenses exaggerate distance. Near things look very near and far things look very far. To a wide angle lens, the tip of your nose looks like it is super close but your ears seem like they are a mile away. And that's why you may look a bit "alien" in your selfies.

People's natural instinct is to "fill the frame" with a face. The outer edges of a wide angle lens are more distorted than the very center. So try to keep faces away from the edges of the frame.

And one other trick you can do for selfies and pictures of faces is step back a few feet. Sometimes this is hard, especially with selfies, as your arm is only so long... but if you can take your face photos from just a little bit farther back, you will almost entirely eliminate unflattering distortion. In some cases, just stretching out your arm as far as it will go is enough.

Then you just crop the image with the framing you originally wanted, and your facial proportions will look great.

An example...

Here the distortion is bad because I am not in the center and the lens is too close to my face. The lens thinks my nose is really close and my ears are in Canada.

But when the lens is farther back the edge distortion is less prevalent and my nose and ears (relative to the lens) seem roughly the same distance away. So my proportions look great, but I don't quite have the framing I want.

But with a little cropping...

For social media there is still plenty of resolution to crop in. Cropping isn't bad, it's just always better to use it as a last resort or in a special circumstance like this. I get roughly the same framing as in my wide angle shot, but I don't look like I'm behind a door's peephole trying to sell you the Good News.

I wish they made a "mini" selfie stick that only extended a foot or so. With the main camera that is usually all people need to undo any wide angle issues. I have one of those mini tripods and that works well, but there is no activation button so I have to do a timer. Mirrors work great to help you get some selfie distance.

In any case, all cameras have limitations and compromises. Clickbait titles saying something is WORSE THAN THE OLD ONE are frustrating and wrong.

And people upgrading phones every year are silly. All current name brand smartphones have promised at least 5 years of software updates. I think Google and Samsung are offering 7 years on some models. And Apple has always just let you use your phone until it literally will not work with new software. Which has worked out to 8 years in some cases (with a battery swap).

Phones are now appliances. For now, hardware will improve 10 to 15% from generation to generation until physics breaks. So if you want a 50% improvement, wait 5 years and you'll think your new phone is awesome. If you upgrade every year, it is going to be difficult to see the change.

I hope to be starting a little course on smartphone photography in the near future. All modern phones are capable of taking amazing pictures. And as long as you understand their limitations you can mitigate or avoid them. And that is what I plan to teach.

[starkwlkr]

the sound of my voice will haunt you | mark webber

part 1 part 2

Grace sat in a chair watching you and Mark talk. She was so bored that she started to imagine herself as you. She found a head set and slipped them over her ears. While she played pretend, you were facing reality talking with Mark.

“Does she know about me?” Mark asked.

“She only knows your name. I never talked to her about you. Why would I? You threw it all away so easily, Mark. You broke my heart.” You snapped at him. You had to calm yourself since your daughter was just a few feet away.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness and the amount of times I say I’m sorry isn’t going to fix it.”

“If this is you telling me you want to be in Grace’s life, you have no right.”

Mark knew that. It absolutely broke him that he had a daughter and he couldn’t be with her, but he had fucked it all up. He looked over at the young girl and saw how she played with the head set. She was a miniature version of you.

“I know and I won’t ask for forgiveness of any kind, not from you or Grace. You’ve done an amazing job raising her.” He continued. “Maybe one day you could tell her about me? If not, i understand.”

“As if you told anyone about me in your book. Mark, I did everything for you. I got in trouble for driving you to races, my parents almost took away my keys! I worked day and night in a shitty restaurant, I almost missed my own graduation because of you! A little note would’ve been nice, but it’s as if I never existed in your world. It hurt me.” You held back tears. Suddenly you’re a teenager again hearing all the loud yelling coming from your parents for driving Mark to his races.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to mention you at all. . . ” He said quietly.

“You’re my past now, I would love to stay away from the past. So when you do attend any of the upcoming races and Grace is here, don’t talk to her. It would be better if she didn’t know about you. Please.” You stated.

My own daughter won’t know about me

Mark understood. It would be better after all.

“Okay.” Was all he managed to say. He nodded and lanced one last time at Grace. “Goodbye.”

Before he could leave, Grace looked at him. She wondered why he looked sad. “Why are you sad? Is your favorite team not winning?” She asked Mark.

“Grace. . . It’s time to go.” You hoped Mark wouldn’t start a conversation, but he did. Of course he was making it harder for you.

“Actually, I used to drive for the team that’s winning and I was okay for a number two driver.” Mark crouched down to talk to Grace.

“Did you win lots of races?” She asked.

Mark let out a chuckle. “I won nine races.”

Grace gasped. “My dad won nine races too!”

At that moment, you wished you were anywhere else. Why couldn’t Mark just leave? Why did Grace have to be nice to everyone and be so curious? And why did you tell Grace that her dad was a driver?

“Your dad? He drives?” Mark questioned.

Grace nodded. “Well I think he doesn’t anymore. Mom said my dad was a driver and that he won nine races, but that’s all I know. I had to make a school project about my family and I asked mom about my dad. Do you know my dad?”

Before Mark could reply, you stepped in. “Sweetheart, it’s time for him to leave. Come on, we’ll get ice cream on the way back.”

“Bye!” Grace waved to the unknown man as you grabbed her hand and walked away from Mark.

He felt a little okay knowing his daughter knew something about him. Maybe one day you would change your mind and let Grace know the truth.

MIAMI 2024

Mark wouldn’t see you or Grace until the Miami Grand Prix. He honestly didn’t feel like even going, but Oscar insisted. At least he wasn’t going to be alone, Jenson was also going, but the British man would be conducting interviews. He kept busy looking at his phone until found him in the Mclaren hospitality. He wasn’t sure why you were even looking for him in the first place.

“Can you look after Grace? My friend couldn’t make it and she was the only person I trust to look after her. I wouldn’t ask if I had another option.” You sighed.

“Yeah, I’ll take care of her.” Mark nodded, putting his phone away. “Where is she?”

“She’s with Oscar in his driver’s room. Just please don’t mention the obvious.” You demanded.

“I won’t, but can I ask one thing?” He stared at your eyes that he still loved after many years. “Why did you tell Grace that her dad won nine races and that he was a driver? You could’ve lied.”

You didn’t want to lie to your daughter, you just couldn’t so you told her part of the truth. Technically, you didn’t think she would even meet Mark ever.

“I can’t lie to her. She knows when I’m lying anyways.” You said.

“What’s her favorite color?” Mark suddenly asked. “I want to know at least some stuff about her so I can talk to her. What if she gets bored halfway through the race?”

You hesitated even telling Mark, but you did anyway. “Her favorite color changes everyday, but today it’s purple. She loved coloring with chalk, she wants to have a puppy and name it Goose like the character from Top Gun, her favorite book series is Junie B. Jones and she tells everyone that she’s tall for her age.” You listed several things.

Mark smiled as he listened to you. “Top Gun? We watched Top Gun on our first date, you know?”

“You’re so annoying.”

You and Mark walk back to the Mclaren garage, which obviously made several people confused. Were you back together? No, you couldn’t be . . . right? By the time the race was close to starting, photos of you and Mark were everywhere. Even Sebastian had texted Jenson wondering about you and Mark.

Grace was sitting next to Mark when the race began. She occasionally glanced at him then grabbed his paddock pass and read his name.

“You’re here with Oscar?” She asked.

Mark nodded. “I’m his manager.”

“So you’re like his dad when his dad is not here?”

“That’s one way to put it.” He chuckled. “Your mum told me you like want a puppy.”

Grace’s eye lit up with joy. “Yes! The puppy is going to be named Goose and they’re going to sleep in my bed.”

Mark hardly payed attention to the race. He kept asking questions in hopes that he could learn more about her. Once in a while, you would look back only to see Mark and Grace laughing.

“One time, my mom almost lost her necklace because she was dancing too hard to her favorite song. It fell and we looked everywhere for it but we couldn’t see it because it was a small letter. But I found it!” Grace said which made Mark question if it was the same necklace that he had given you years ago.

“What letter was it?”

“I think it was M?”

The ‘M’ necklace was a gift from Mark on your first anniversary. It was old, but you couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of it. If anyone asked what the M stood for, you lied saying it was your middle name or for someone in your family.

“Does your mum always wear it?” Mark asked.

“Not anymore. But I think it’s pretty.” Grace replied. “Your name starts with M!”

All Mark did was nod.

The race had finished and soon you were back to your daughter. She had told you how Mark has dogs and invited her to meet them.

“Grace, can you go sit over there for a little while? I need to talk to Mark.” You pointed to the seat that she was sitting during the race. She obeyed and now it was just you and Mark. “Thank you. I really hope she wasn’t too much to handle.”

Mark shook his head. “She’s very talkative when it comes to her favorite things. She’s a great kid.” He debated whether to tell you about the necklace story that Grace had told him. Finally, he decided he would keep that to himself.

“I wanted you to hear this from me instead of the media. I’m leaving the team after this season.” You said only loud enough for him to hear.

“But you’ll be back, right? I mean the team is doing well, Lando just won his first ever race, obviously it could’ve been better for Oscar, but you are the heart and soul of this team.” Mark could see a frown forming on your face.

“I love this team, but it’s time for me to be a mom. Grace needs me, Mark. I already told Zak and it’s final. They’ll announce my departure soon. Thanks again for looking after Grace, this is the last time you’ll see her.”

He was glad that he could at least spend some time with Grace. She was a joy to be around. Their time together was something Mark would cherish forever.

For the rest of the 2024 season, Mark stopped calling you the Mclaren team principal and, instead, used your name. He praised you, gave you the credit you deserved and defended you any time. Mark had even made a statement about the person who had leaked the information about you and him when he talked with Fernando. It was rumored that a photographer had leaked it. He knew nothing was going to change, but he needed to correct his wrongs. It all started with an instagram post about you.

INSTAGRAM

(this is just for fanfic purposes, you can use any faceclaim)

liked by oscarpiastri, f1 and 837,377 others

aussiegrit everyone i meet will have to know you, to understand me. anyone that truly knows me, knows your name.

comments are limited

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[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

hiii Can you do Sae byeok x fem reader Where she leaves you with a lot of hickey on your neck, chest, back and jaw. And readers brother deok su is not Happy about it. The next morning he goes to wake you up and thinks that Sae byeok went home but then he sees you and Sae byeok cuddleing 😰. Lets say his Day was not going to be Good at All. He also finds you two making out (french kissing😏) and seeing you two hugging with Sae byeoks hands up your shirt or under you pants at the hip. He scolds the both of you but Sae byeok is not going to stop lmao.

THANK YOU SO MUCH AND SORRY IF ITS KINDA LONG DONT MIND THAT BUT HAVE A GOOD DAY OR NIGHT!

fem!plus size reader, wc: 579.

a/n: hihi!! i love clingy sae-byeok so bad you don't understand, but! i left out the kissing part because the fic flowed through me, and there was no space for it, i hope that's okay :] this is equal amount silly as it is fluffy with that 0.00001% bit of smut!!

cw! smutty in the beginning but nothing really happens!

Miniature giggles escape your mouth as you run your fingers through Sae-byeok’s cropped hair.

“Sae!” You giggle at the feeling of her spit soaked lips trailing the sensitive skin of your neck.

You’re not sure how bad the damage is, because she’s been handsy all night; grabbing at the meat of your thigh, or stroking your cushioned jaw. She’s placed a few nibbles here and there, and you’d wince when she’d suck a particularly large bruise on your body.

“That tickles!” Your laugh quickly turns into a moan when she latches onto the skin between your jaw and ear. 

You’re already on your back when the tips of her fingers breach the hem of your shorts, the promise of touching you sending an electric shiver running up your spine. “Sae-byeok…” You whine. 

Just as she’s about to slither her way into your damp panties, you’re interrupted by three sharp pounds delivered to your - locked - bedroom door.

“Hey! Wrap it up in there!” There’s disgust weaved in your older brother’s voice. 

You sigh in frustration, slamming your head down on the pillow gently with a pout. Sae-byeok had already removed herself from your body, her own propped up by balancing the side of her head on her fist.

You nibble on your lip as you look at her. “Stay the night?” You ask hopefully. The corner of her mouth twitches, threatening a smile. “Sure.”

One thing about Deok-su, is that he is not an early riser, and there’s a lot of things that could ruin his morning; an alarm going off outside, a slam of a bowl here, a closing of a fridge there, and yet how come seeing Sae-byeok wrapped around you top everything else?

The both of you are sleepy, and he’s sure he doesn’t wanna know why. The girl is practically pasted to your back, her head buried in your shoulder as one of her hands disappear into the front of your shirt as well as in your pants; the imprint of her arm lazily gripping your hip causing him to scowl.

“I let you live here rent free and this is what you do to me?” Deok-su grumbles in irritation.

Sae-byeok doesn’t even bother to respond, but you tear your bleary eyes away from the slow cooking pancake in front of you. 

“I’m making pancakes. Does that help?” You yawned, and as he went to respond, he notices the pattern of purples and reds littering your neck. “Fucking hell!” He swears. “No. It doesn’t.”

“You’re always complaining about something.” Comes from a tired Sae-byeok. 

Deok-su’s glare finds her, and you’re sure she can feel the sheer heat of it, but she just simply doesn’t care. “You shouldn’t even be here. I thought you went home.” He bites back.

“You already know she was going to ask me to stay over. Don’t act naive.” She continues to chide. The vein in Deok-su’s forehead threatens to burst, but you break it up before it happens.

“Listen, she’ll leave after breakfast, because she has to see her brother, anyway.” You interrupt, “And quite frankly, it’s too early for this. So, you get your pancake and go that way, and Sae and I will take ours back to my room, deal?”

He seemed to be at war for himself before sighing. Loudly. Storming over to the coffee pot and dramatically making a show of pouring it into a mug.

“I never want to see this shit again.” “Yeah, yeah, go.”

[ashdreams2023]

Hiii, could I request a severus snape and little sister reader where she's the opposite of him and so all the students love her until someone insults him one day and she's all snarky and a miniature version of snape and everyone's like ".....maybe they are alike....." while severus looks on like a proud parent??? I love your fics so much!! Thankss!!

The same tree

Severus snape x professor sister reader 

The student body was in shambles the day you were announced as a new staff member, the name snape was enough to send shivers down some students backs.

They barely handled one snape, let alone two!

Everyone expected the worst, 2.0 snape female version then you got to your first class, it wasn’t like anything they had in mind.

Heck you gave house points and they paid attention to the lessons.

"She’s human, oh my god she’s not evil!"

It spread pretty quickly how nice and patient you were, you didn’t show any favoritism towards anyone nor did you encourage any rivalry in your class, as long as they passed it was a win for you.

Your office hours were filled with students coming to you for help, some even asking for help of topics other than what you teach, sometimes asking about stories of your youth but none dared to ask about your brother.

But there were times were kids can get way too comfortable in matters that have no business with them, unfortunately for a certain fourth year Ravenclaw he learned his lesson the hard way.

"I can’t believe that git took points because I added a point to his lesson! It’s fucking ridiculous, he’s a selfish idiot who only wants his way and everyone else is wrong"

"Jesus calm down mate, it’s only ten points you’ll live and he’s like the professor so…"

The Ravenclaw rolled his eyes "I know the book, I read it piece to piece I know my way around this stuff, he’s just one bitter old son of a bitch-"

"Excuse me you little bird" the boy froze as he felt a hand touching his shoulder, he looked up to meet your piercing dark eyes, they had the dangerously familiar feeling to those of their potion master.

"Professor i-"

"No no no…go on, continue what you were about to say so the oh so great Ravenclaw knows everything, because what? Because you read an outdated, basic, dusty ass potion book"

The boy swallowed, your tone was so different, you weren’t smiling and it reminded him of being schooled by severus snape himself.

"Why so quiet? Snake got your tongue?" You smiled proudly at the look of terror on the boy’s face "Let this be a lesson to you little bird, my brother is no idiot and without him little airheads and know it alls would be dead by now, so know your place, am I understood?" You tightened your grip on his shoulder.

"Yes ma’m!"

"And 30 points from Ravenclaw for showing disrespect to faculty staff members"

The boy’s jaw dropped but didn’t dear argue back and sprinted away with his friends, you couldn’t care less that students were watching, they call all spread rumors or whatever.

"Oh my god…she is like him…"

"Shush she’s gonna hear you! At least now we know not to overstep it"

You sighed and left the great hall, you pumped into your brother by the end of the day, he arched an eyebrow at you when you causally sat down and sipped your tea.

"I see you’ve made quite the impression today"

You shrugged "They’re just stupid kids, it was about time they learn anyways"

Severus leaned back on his armchair "You sound awfully familiar to me, I suppose I am rubbing off on you"

"The apples may look different but they all belong to the same tree" you smirked.

"You’re still terrible at potions though" He remarked knowing well how atrocious you were at his best interest.

"Hey! I was defending your honor"

You glared at him and he glared back then after a few seconds of intense looks you two snorted at each other and went back to having your regular sitting for the day.

Thank you for your kind words and glad you do 🥰

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #136 part 1

Danny felt disgruntled as he slowly came back into consciousness. He was in the middle of the Observants going over some of the new factions that have been growing since he became King. A sudden surge of power flung Danny through a portal and he tried to escape or make sense of what happened but he lost consciousness soon after. 

Coming too Danny was a lot smaller than what he thought he should be. His body had a different feel to it and he could tell he was turned into something that walked on all fours. He lifted his head and took in his surroundings. He was in a field, a field of wheat. He couldn’t even see anything besides the wheat and the sky. The portal that dumped him here was no where to be found either. He was going to have a hard time getting back home, especially in his new form. He could still feel his core but the transformation had done a number on him and he felt exhausted.

Suddenly he heard the wheat snap to his left and he whipped his head around to find a person carefully leaning down a few yards away from him. They seemed to analyze his body movements a little bit before he held out his hand that had a small piece of sausage in it. Danny knew not to take food from strangers but it honestly smelled heavenly and he doubted Sam would ever find out, so he hesitantly walked over and gave it a sniff. After he had taken it from them, they started petting Danny on the head. 

“You're an adorable little puppy aren’t you!” Ah so Danny was apparently a puppy, he probably should try to find a way back home but maybe being a dog for a while wouldn’t be too bad. He hasn’t had a break in a while and the Observants are so damn pushy sometimes. The stranger continued, “I’m going to take you to Damian, he knows a lot about pets. I feel like him and I got off on the wrong foot the other day and I think you’d be the perfect gift.” 

Danny wasn’t sure about being given away as a present but he supposed he had no where else to be and if Damian knew his pets as well as this guy said then Danny would be well cared for.

He was picked up and after a bit of walking they arrived at a farm house. Danny was better able to assess the size of the person holding him and they seemed around 10-12 years old. The kid ran excitedly into the kitchen of the house holding Danny out to an adult that, much like the kid, had black hair and blue eyes. 

“Dad! Look I found a puppy!! Can we bring him tonight to the Watchtower meeting so I can give him to Damian? I think he needs a friend and I want to apologize for how I acted the other day.” The kids dad seemed to give Danny a once over before responding.

“It’s probably fine but let me talk with Bruce first and make sure everything’s OK. We don’t want to force a pet on them even if Damian is good with animals.” He finally responded, he gave the kid a hair tussle and then continued, “Jon, why don’t you give him a bath upstairs while I give him a call, I think I still have some dog shampoo from last time I gave Krypto one.” 

The kid apparently named Jon ran up the stairs with Danny clutched against his chest. Soon he found himself wet in a bathtub, and then he was dried. He was finally able to get a good look at himself in the mirror, he looked like a miniature husky with white fur and dark black patches along his tail, back, and head. His icy blue eyes were piercing and he could see why someone would think he were cute, in fact he was down right adorable. 

After that Jon brought him to a bedroom he assumed belonged to Jon. It was a very basic kid’s bedroom and Danny found himself sprawled on the bed along with Jon. Jon spoke very fondly about Damian and the more he spoke the more Danny got the feeling Jon had a little crush.

Soon Jon’s dad came into the room to tell him that Danny could be given to Damian at the meeting tonight. Danny didn’t know what sort of work Jon's dad did but it sounded like Jon’s and Damian’s dads worked together. He wondered what kind of place the watchtower would be but he didn’t have to wonder for long. 

He also realized how different this world was from his own. Jon and his dad could fly and they wore these skin tight suits, honestly they looked like superheroes which was probably exactly what they were. They flew through the air and eventually they were in front of these tubes Danny honestly didn’t know what they were. Jon and his dad did though, and apparently it was teleportation. Danny was awestruck at the site in front of him, the Watchtower was in space and he could hardly keep in his excitement. 

Master Post:

Next:

[macksting]

"I still want to make things, but perhaps I should just keep them to myself for the time being. For anyone that cares, I’ll still be continuing Heart of Elynthi and the JOmega charity, but once those are finished I will be taking an indefinite break from posting anything online. It’s a decision I’ve considered ever since the first hate wave from about a year or so ago but wanted to sit on it and see if the feeling would persist. I know now this is the best choice for me."

If I catch anybody celebrating this, I am going to eat your kneecaps. This guy is a sweetheart, I have friends who needed the sort of kind, GNC representation of masculinity he presented earnestly, he was humble and respectful and tried to use his platform for good, and you fucking miserable little shitheads, you pearl-clutching jackasses, decided to take one video out of context and make a crusade out of it. Why don't y'all pick a fight that matters? You think Cop City is gonna crumble because you chased someone offline who was supportive of trans folks and was glad to have been liberated from cishet society? Do you think the world is a better place now? If I find anyone celebrating this, I will be eating the forbidden plantain chips that are their fucking kneecaps. I may even let them have a bite. Yes I am fucking angry about this. Is it that important compared to everything else in the world right now? No, but you made one guy's life hell for no good reason, and that's horrible. Die in a fire. And to be clear, I am not angry about this on his behalf. He did not ask me to be angry. He does not most likely want anybody to face consequences for being a shit-eating little cop who feels good about themselves for crusading against a guy who is using his platform to help trans folks because we helped him too. This is for me. This is because I want a world liberated from oppression, not one where folks recreate it in miniature hoping this time they'll be the Big Man and everyone else will be oppressed, so they pick fights they know they can win just to abuse and belittle someone to feel good about themselves.

He was sweet. He still is. And I hope he lives a better life far away from this.

[avatar-anna]

Just a Taste

i was feeling inspired and i missed the young dadrry universe. enjoy!

Young Dad! Harry x Young Mom! Reader

*.*

"Harry Edward Styles, don't you touch that!"

Harry's hand paused on his way to a mixing bowl filled with royal icing, a guilty look on his face. He really thought he'd been quiet enough to sneak past her. "Come on, Mama. Just a little taste?"

Y/n pinned her husband with a stare until his hand backed away. He went over to where she was rolling out dough with a rolling pin, a mix of holiday themed cookie cutters scattered around her. Flour coated her hands and arms, and a little had found its way to her cheek. Harry quickly wiped it away as he came around, his arms circling around her waist as he kissed the spot her flour had been.

He continued to kiss her until a smile appeared on her face and she finally stopped what she was doing to rest her hands on top of his, which had been Harry's goal, of course. She'd been up before he was to bake cookies, and he was feeling thoroughly ignored.

"Don't think by distracting me you'll get what you want," Y/n said, her eyes fluttering closed as Harry continued to nuzzle her neck.

"Think I want something else now," he murmured. Harry reached beneath her sweater, splaying his fingers along her heated skin. He knew every inch of her by now, each and every place that was the most sensitive and would make her arch into him or sigh contentedly. He wanted to reacquaint himself upstairs while they had time. "Come on. Simone's down for her nap. We can sneak upstairs for a little while."

Y/n all but melted at the promise in his voice, but she held fast. "I have to get this done. I told my parents I would bring cookies to their party."

Ah, there it is, Harry thought.

This was the first time Y/n, Harry, and Simone would be spending Christmas with Y/n's family. For the last couple years they spent the holidays in London with his family, but her parents reached out for a chance to start over and make amends this year. Y/n hadn't wanted to accept, but Harry encouraged her to at least hear them out. It had been years since she'd seen them, and even though things had been rocky when she left home, he thought both her and her family deserved a chance to set things right.

Plus, who would be able to resist Simone? She was the most perfect kid on the planet. It would be impossible not to love her, let alone hold any resentment over her.

"Everything is going to be just fine, my love," Harry promised. "Why don't you tell me what's really going on?"

Harry felt her body slouch as she exhaled a long sigh. Y/n turned in the circle of his arms and came to rest against him. She didn't say anything for a while, just relaxed against him while she gathered her thoughts.

She smelled like cinnamon and sugar, and over the top of her head, he spotted the gingerbread cookies she made earlier cooling on racks on the stove. They were his favorites, and he couldn't wait to get his hands on a couple of the miniature gingerbread men she'd cut the cookies into. Y/n had a knack for baking that really only came out around the holidays. Harry never thought he'd had a sweet tooth, but he had a weak spot for his wife's baked goods, and if his schedule was slow she spoiled him and Simone with all kinds of sweets. It was enough to make him work out for weeks after the holidays.

Before his thoughts got too carried away, Harry looked back at Y/n. He tipped her head up so she had to look him in the eye. He kissed her nose once, then her forehead, then her lips, until a small smile appeared. "Talk to me, Mama."

She sighed again, but this time she spoke. "I just...I want them to know that I'm doing a good job, I want them to know I'm a good mom."

"What? Baby, you're a fantastic mum," Harry said, a frown marring his features. That's what this is about? "You don't need their stamp of approval, Y/n."

"I know, I know. It's just that we're raising Simone so differently to how I grew up, and that's fine she's a great kid," Y/n explained. "I just don't want to give them any ammunition to judge how we're living our lives, you know? Making memories around the holidays were huge for me growing up. Christmas cards, decorating the tree, cookies, matching sweaters, and I—I don't want them to think Simone is growing up without that. I—I know it's stupid, but—"

"It's not stupid if that's how you feel," Harry said, cupping her cheek. His eyes searched hers, trying to decide if there was more that she wasn't saying. He'd become quite good at reading her, and he decided there wasn't. "But I don't think Simone is missing out on anything. Do you?"

Y/n shook her head. "She's happy, right? I know we don't lead the most conventional lifestyle, but she's happy, isn't she?"

"I'd say so. And hey, conventional's overrated. Remember when Niall dressed up as Santa so we could have a family picture? Or when we brought a Christmas tree with us on tour so we could put Simone's presents under it?"

Y/n grinned at the memories. "Or when the boys covered for us so we could sneak out and go to a Christmas market."

"I don't remember that one," Harry said as his brow furrowed.

Stretching up onto her toes, Y/n kissed his cheek. "That's because we never actually made it to the Christmas market."

"That's right! Simone was in Liam's room, and we stayed in, and you were wearing that little red set with the bows—"

Y/n kissed him properly this time, her arms crossing around his neck to bring him closer. His skin was soft and freshly shaven, a preference of Y/n's as she brought her hands to his face, though Harry had been trying to grow a little facial hair during his time off. He probably could've stayed like that all day, but he knew there was work to be done, and Y/n would be upset with herself if her icing went to waste.

"Let's get these cookies done and then head upstairs, hm?" he said even as Y/n began to kiss up and down his neck and his hands slid past her waist.

"Then get your hands off my ass, Styles."

"As soon as you untangle yourself from me, L/n," he said.

When she finally did, Y/n's lips were swollen, and her hair was a little messy. But she looked relaxed, not as tense as she had been when Harry came downstairs.

"Where do you need me?" he asked her, going to the sink to wash his hands before slinging an apron over his neck. "I can help with the baking part. I did work in a bakery, you know."

"Don't get me started," she murmured before offering the rolling pin. "Cookie cutting or decorating?"

"Mm...cutting. And maybe we save some just for us and Simone to do later?"

Y/n's grin was as wide as he'd ever seen it, which practically melted his heart into a puddle of goo at his feet. "Yeah?"

"Course, Mama. Between us, our little tyke is bound to be a baking genius."

Y/n rolled her eyes and swatted him with the towel that had been over her shoulder. They got to work, music playing on speakers, but low enough to hear Simone through the baby monitor if she woke up. Harry stole glances at Y/n as she got to work decorating the gingerbread men. He knew she was nervous, but he was thrilled that everything was starting to fall into place. Harry was home now that the band was on hiatus, Y/n was starting to mend her relationship with her parents, and Simone was about to get everything she asked Santa for and then some. At four years old, she didn't ask for much, but she had lots of uncles who were eager for a reason to shower her with gifts.

To Harry, everything was perfect.

Or, nearly perfect. Once the last batch of cookies were cooling and Y/n had decorated enough gingerbread men to take to her parents' house, Harry hauled her upstairs. "I still have that cute little set that you love so much," she murmured as she hastily pulled off his shirt. Excitement zinged through Harry at the thought, but he was too eager.

"Next time," he promised, falling back against the pillows, decorative ones Y/n had bought the week before.

"How do you want me?" she asked him, crawling to his side to run a hand through his hair. When he didn't respond right away, her brow furrowed. "H? Am I losing you?"

"No, I'm trying to think how much time we have before we're inevitably interrupted," he said.

"And then we have to get ready," Y/n said with a sigh, flopping on the bed next to him so that they were shoulder to shoulder. "Kiss and cuddle?"

Harry grinned. "You read my mind, Mama."

[whoistartaglia]

HII! Could i request zhongli,Xiao and ayato with a reader whos rich asf and spoils them with stuff,Like for zhongli he may be a bit broke but then reader comes in and now bros able to go on a shopping spree,Xiao who js "tch"s and says its kinda pointless but does accept it and idk abt ayato but yeah- HOPE IM NOT RUDE!! But do remember to rest and take breaks after <333

i love this request anon <3 thank you so much

absolutely spoiling genshin men because they deserve it

zhongli

the waiters at the restaurants you and zhongli frequent have learned to put the check down in front of you, not him.

it was a steep learning curve. your boyfriend is so naturally put together and wears such expensive clothes that who wouldn’t think he’s worth a million mora and more? but after the first several times of you grabbing the check, barely looking at the total, and putting down the correct amount and more, they learned you were the one to go to.

although there was one time this golden rule was broken. you and zhongli were returning from a shopping spree—on you, of course, considering the dust in zhongli’s wallet—when you decided to grab dinner. the waiter welcomed you with a polite smile and took your orders.

everything was going as normal, except for that when the check came, it was zhongli who reached for it, zhongli who glanced at the total, and zhongli who paid.

the waiter was polite enough not to drop open his mouth for too long and quickly accepted the total and generous tip. he turned, thankful and muttering something about buying a lottery ticket, and didn’t catch zhongli sheepishly sliding you your credit card under the table.

xiao

“i have no use for such mortal—“

“will you please just try on this shirt?”

xiao glares at you, but it’s half-hearted at best. he grabs the shirt and enters the changing room. the shopping spree was your idea, of course, and after a little but of grumbling, xiao relented to your financial whims.

“how does it fit?” you call out. xiao pokes his head our of the dressing room, and then steps out. his face has a subtle frown on it, but you dismiss that as him getting tired—this is the eighth store you’ve visited, after all.

“it looks great!” you compliment. you turn to the store associate. “we’ll buy it.” you hand over your credit card and they hurry off.

you turn back to xiao and find his frown has curled into an exasperated smile.

“you do realize that’s the tenth shirt you bought for me today.”

“so?” you ask. you cross your arms and pretend to pout. xiao opens his mouth to say something else, maybe tell you off for spending so much money on him, but doesn’t. he only kind of sighs and heads back into the changing room, making a mental note to never agree to another shopping spree again (even though he totally will).

ayato

when the check lands on the table, it is as if a miniature thunderstorm has started brewing in the restaurant. the waiter acknowledges the strange new tension in the air and scampers off, leaving you and ayato to face off against each other.

your hand lands on the check first, ayato’s a beat behind.

“let go,” you hiss under your breath, making sure to keep up your demure smile.

“you first.” ayato’s eyes are wicked and taunting, and his smile widens when you start to pull it towards you. it’s a dance you’ve both done several times before. this is nothing new.

“it’s my turn to pay.”

“you already paid earlier.”

“i have the money.”

ayato’s laugh is short and quick.

“so do i.”

you sigh and shake your head. you’re both so stubborn that you could dress this battle out for hours and leave the poor waiter in distress.

“fine,” you say, relenting. ayato’s eyebrows quirk up in surprise before you continue, “we’ll split the check. let me just see how much it is.”

his grip loosens by a fraction and you yank the check out, stuff in your credit card, and hand it off to the waiter before ayato can even blink.

“why you—“

“oh, please, just let me treat you—i’ll let you pay next time, okay?”

you both know that’s a lie.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

riddle's post-ob flashback in the light novel

Like the Leona post, I’m going to discuss the extended detail that the light novel goes into with Riddle’s backstory, then integrate it with what we know of him from the game. It looks like this is going to be a trend for the light novel, so I’ll most likely do similar analyses for the other OB boys as more volumes come out!

Anyway, read on if you’re curious 👀

Okay, so 🤔 from what we can observe from Riddle’s in-game post-OB flashback sequence, his mother has been dictating almost every aspect of his life, from what and how much he eats to his lengthy, rigorous study routine. As recently as Riddle’s Broomquet vignettes, we learned that even at 5 years old, he had already started and become accustomed to his intense studying. When Riddle fails to complete a task sufficiently, his mother has him redo it or study more until he finally succeeds.

This was Riddle’s “normal”, and he completely bought into it. In the game, this is explained as Riddle having trust in his mother due to her reputation in their community as a competent and well-respected medical mage. "After all, she was the most accomplished mother in the city, and therefore, the most correct." Riddle associates "correctness" with "accomplishments", and we see this attitude carry out in other aspects of the main story. He talks down to Yuu for lacking magic and brags about his own standing as top student to Azul, who regularly fluctuates from 2nd to 10th place. The light novel, however, grants us new perspective as to why Riddle tries so hard in his studies and seeks to please his mom. In turn, we can see how this domino effects into his struggles to connect with others.

In the light novel, Riddle notes that his mother would always tell him "everything is for you". "Everything", in this context, I'm assuming refers to all the time and effort Riddle is putting into his studying, the tight control of his life, etc. His mother has framed all of this as being beneficial to Riddle, and that she herself is pushing him to engage in these things because she loves and cares for him. This is something that Riddle then interprets as meaning she must love him the most in the entire world, something that he tells himself to justify her own actions in his own mind. It becomes a piece of "proof" that, later down the line, will make it difficult to reconcile with his complicated feelings on her once he realizes how toxic her child raising tactics were. (I go into more detail on this topic in this post!)

Riddle also says that if he responds with "yes, mother" then he will be praised for it. This, you'll notice, is a phrase that is very similar to what he demands his own dorm members respond to his orders with: "yes, dorm leader". It implies that Riddle is used to deferring to her judgement and authority, and so expects the same obedience of others when he is in that position of power. This agrees with his behavior in book 1. As Ace points out, Riddle is just acting like a miniature version of his own mom, right down to the angry reactions and shouting when things don't go his way.

Right after that, we get another short but telling line. Referring to his mother's affection, Riddle comments that he "doesn't need anything else", and decides to forgo asking for strawberry tarts ever again. He was willing to give up something he was curious about trying just to continue receiving praise. To me, this illustrates that the love of Mrs. Rosehearts was conditional: if you perform to her expectations, you get her love. If you don't perform to her expectations, well then, it's back to the books for you until you can. (Reminder: this does NOT confirm that Mrs. Rosehearts yells at Riddle or degrades him for not being “up to par”; there is just a sense of disappointment at this.) It implies that Riddle became used to a cycle of receiving the love and attention he wanted only when he behaved in a very specific way that his mother desired—otherwise, she withheld that affection. This is why Riddle believes following the rules will make him happy; it’s a result of what he has learned is the “norm” from his mother’s conditional love.

The light novel also shows us how this unhealthy mother-son relationship spills over into Riddle's other (potential) relationships. When Che'nya and Trey first approach him to invite Riddle to play with them, Riddle automatically says that he can't. He had the answer prepared for them, the response already deeply ingrained into him and likely already told to other children that tried to talk to him before. But even though Riddle rejects them, prioritizing his mother's praise over all else, he still feels a twinge of sadness about it. He even expects that he "let them down". "Let them down"? Now isn't that a funny statement. Why would Riddle be concerned about disappointing total strangers he has zero attachment to? Unless... he's so isolated that he just assumes everyone will treat him the same way his mother will. That they'll withhold love and attention if he doesn't act how they want him to. Thus, Riddle appears to associate failure to perform as resulting in rejection and lack of social acceptance.

This plays perfectly into one of the most chilling lines in Riddle's post-OB flashback: "But Mom... Why? Why does my heart hurt so much? [...] Tell me, Mom, please... What rule do I need to follow to make this pain go away?" These lines indicate Riddle finally coming to the realization that, deep down, he has always desired affection. A desire to make friends and to play with them, to have deeply intimate relationships. All he knew before was his mom was happy when he did well in his studies, so that was what he chose to excel in. Things changed when he was exposed to what unconditional love is like through Trey and Che'nya. Riddle's childhood friends are the ones who will love and accept him no matter what he's like, no matter what fuck-ups he makes or how socially awkward he is with them. He started to recognize that painful emptiness in him that never went way, no matter how many of his mom's rules he followed. Alas, Riddle was never able to come to terms with that sinking feeling because his mom had just torn him away from Trey and Che'nya not too long after learning that he had been skipping independent study time to play and eat a strawberry tart. He would not meet Trey again until enrolling at NRC, and by then, they've spent so much time apart (and, let's be real here, traumatized by Mrs. Rosehearts losing her temper over the tart incident) that her staunch mindset has clawed into Riddle's brain once more. His whole life, the main models of relationships he has to go off of are his mom and his dad, who don't appear to have a happy marriage (implied in his Suitor Suit voice lines). It's no wonder why making friends and truly opening up is difficult for him, even following the events of book 1. What else does Riddle have to reference? Crossword puzzles and textbooks? In Endless Halloween Night, the guy barely knows what a scavenger hunt is or how you'd find joy in it...

Unlike Leona, Riddle already had a pretty fleshed out backstory from his flashback. Instead of expanding on his motivations (as the light novel did with Leona), what the light novel does for Riddle is give us more information that implicates what his home life was like. It's still not that much, but it certainly better explains some of Riddle's oddly stringent viewpoints that we still see in the present day.

I know that this post was kind of a shorter read compared to the Leona one I did, but that's in part because I've already written at length about the complexities of Riddle's relationship with his mom, dad, and Trey. Those posts are bolded and linked, so if you're interested in more, then I'd recommend those readings!

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Somehow, Through the Storm

Summary:

Living in the slums of the Warehouse District, Kaz and Inej are struggling to cling on to life through a seemingly unending winter. Wrapped up in a stranger's overcomplicated marriage contract that he is convinced is key to solving the merciless weather, Kaz remains busy and distracted for days on end, putting everything else at risk. So when a storm ravages the city and sweeps Inej into danger, the offer of safety, food, and a place to stay is an overwhelming one - no matter the cost. Terrified of mounting threats, Inej signs a contract - not knowing she would land herself trapped at the Menagerie. Kaz signs a contract that states if he can walk all the way through the city and back to the Warehouse District with Inej behind him, never looking back at her, they will both go free. But this is the Barrel, the darkest part of the city where the rules of physics can change with the stroke of a pen; the journey back will not be the same as journey there…

This is a Hadestown-inspired reimagining of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, casting Kaz and Inej as our main characters and heavily featuring our beloved Crows, set in an alternate version of the Grishaverse with a different magic system based entirely on contracts.

Tags: @lunarthecorvus @marielaure @multi-fandom-bi @iggy-gotthisaccountunderduress @thelibraryofalexandriastillburns @devoted-people-hater @spraypaintstainonawhitewall

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list let me know <3

Warnings for this chapter: references to death of a parent, reference to struggles with mental health, grief, loss of a child, implied abuse references, implied child abuse references, trafficking references, slavery references (similar to Kerch indenture contracts), anxiety, brief reference to past marital rape/non-con

AO3 link:

Somehow, Through the Storm - Chapter 19 - She_posts_nerdy_stuff - Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo [Archive of Our Own]

Chapter 19 - Marya

“What’s my name? My name is-” “Our lady of the Underground” “Brother, what’s my name?” “Our lady of ways, our lady of means” “Brother, what’s my name? My name is-” “Our lady of the upside-down,” “Wanna know my name? I’ll tell you: Persephone”

- Our Lady of the Underground, Hadestown

Marya could have cried from the moment she set eyes on the house, but she managed to restrain the tears until she was inside - and alone. Alone. She was actually alone. 

It felt freeing for about the first two minutes. 

Her childhood home was set back from the river quite a way, but she knew the shape of the land well and from the moment that they reached a particular meander in the river she felt like she had arrived. Which was marginally unfortunate, because there were actually another twenty minutes to go before they docked and it had made her feel impatient. She leant over the railing, watching the rural landscape unfold around her. 

She loved the countryside. The pain in her chest at seeing it again, so long past and yet the landscape so perfectly unchanged, was greater than she anticipated. Her grip tightened around the metal railing, the flighty fabric of her gloves slipping against the curve. She released a long, contented breath as she studied the hills, the bends of the tributary snaking away from them as they continued down the river, the buildings that, from this distance, seemed like miniature things that could have been made of clay. 

“We’re almost there,” she promised Penelope, quietly, “Fifteen minutes or so. The carriage ride from the harbour is short, but it will be enough time for me to talk you through the plan,” 

“The plan, ma’am?” 

“Just rooming and the like,” Marya kept her voice even, uncertain of whether or not her husband would have already given Penelope instructions about this, “It’s a slightly smaller house, but only my mother and a small staff. We’ll discuss it in the carriage,” 

“Of course, ma’am,” said Penelope, very softly. 

Marya glanced back over her shoulder, peering down the river as though she might have been able to see the city that long since faded into the distance. Or as though she was checking that it wasn’t following them. Ketterdam was, of course, long out of sight by now. Marya moved her gaze to the rose that was sticking out of the breast pocket of her coat. She glanced once more back at where the city would have been, had it been following her, and then plucked the flower out and crushed the petals in her palm. 

“Dispose of this,” she said, holding the flower’s corpse out for Penelope to take, “And would you please get me a drink?” 

“Of course, ma’am” 

Marya didn’t move her attention away from the view but she felt Penelope’s absence, listened to the minor and then vanished patter of her feet. The landscape watched her impassively as the boat chugged on along its journey, and after a few minutes Penelope reappeared with a slender glass, curved along the rim so as to be suitable for travelling aboard a water vessel, of water. It had not been the kind of drink that Marya had in mind, but she downed it anyway and then handed the glass back. 

“Do we have any brandy?” 

“I’ll check, ma’am,” 

Marya nodded.

 “Thank you,” 

The girl did, indeed, return with a glass of brandy and Marya held it in shivering fingers. She had to force herself to sip it slowly instead of tipping the thing straight down her throat, which was tempting no matter how wholly improper it was. And on a boat with no other passengers and such, perhaps she could - but no, no. She sipped the drink in quietude, hoping that it would somehow calm her nerves. She needed them to settle. She needed not to feel messy and foolish and childish and sorry for herself when she finally saw her mother once more. 

It has occurred to her in the past few moments, as she wondered whether Penelope would have specific instructions for her husband about aspects of this trip, or whether she would be insisted upon to report back to him on her behaviours. Downing the brandy would certainly not be a good idea - but, Ghezen, what if ridding herself of the rose hadn’t been sensible either? Maybe she shouldn’t have done it - oh, oh but it was too late now wasn’t it? She took another shivering sip of brandy. Well, so long as she behaved herself for the six months to come, perhaps it would be - not fine, he would not forget the slight if it were reported back to him, but so long as she was careful it would only be this one issue of discussion. 

Just breathe, she’d reminded herself, gripping the base of the glass as tightly as she possibly could without breaking it - or, as was more likely in these Saintsforsaken gloves, having it slipping straight out of her grasp and shattering on the floor or falling into the river. She did her best to steady herself. 

Within the safe confines of their carriage, no other staff but the driver and footman outside, Marya had spoken softly to Penelope about the most likely arrangements at the house. She hadn’t wanted to mention it in detail at home, nor on a boat owned by her husband and manned by his staff, but - and whether it was because she was a self-hypocrite or simply a fool - she had come to trust Penelope to a decent enough extent. Maybe she was slipping. Maybe she needed to go back to just keeping her mouth shut. 

“We’ll be on different floors to each other,” she said, “It’s unusual for us, I realise, but there’s simply no alternative arrangement,” 

Penelope had always been in a small adjoining room to the master suite in the Van Eck mansion, from where she could easily be available at any time. Officially speaking, Marya wasn’t even sure that she was supposed to go anywhere without the girl as her accompaniment. She didn’t really remember when Penelope had appeared in her life, so she supposed it must have been then or shortly afterwards, but her ever-presence had become a strange comfort even in Marya’s endless quest for temporary privacy. 

For all the other timing that she had calculated, she had never paused to do so for her time spent with Penelope. Perhaps because the percentage was going to be far higher than she cared to admit to herself; the girl was there when she woke, opening the curtains and bringing her tea and tablets, and she was there before she went to sleep, closing the curtains and bringing her tablets. Sometimes she wondered if Penelope must despise her. How couldn’t she? But even if she did, she was the closest thing Marya had left to a friend. 

“You will probably have more free time than usual,” she managed, biting the inside of her lip, “We don’t - we can relax, a little,”

Penelope looked at her like the concept was foreign, then nodded a little as she adjusted herself on her seat.  Marya wondered what the girl had once done for fun, in the years that it had existed. 

Her mother wasn’t there to greet them from the carriage, as Marya had hoped she might be, but she was waiting in the foyer. Marya had stepped out onto the driveway, heard the pebbles crunching beneath her feet, and suddenly wondered if she might be about to collapse to her knees and sob. This was the place she had been born; where she stood now was where she had fallen and grazed her knee at seven, where she had stepped into the carriage that took her to her wedding, and where she had watched the carriage carrying her father’s coffin leave; this was the building she had gown in, studied in, danced in, cried in; the place that she had met her husband and the world that she had left behind. How long had it been since she’d come home? Her chest ached. 

The pebbles had always been a wholly impractical driveway. They had more than once in Marya’s childhood been an issue for the horses, who had to have their feet tended to when stones cut them or became stuck within their shoes, they were uncomfortable crunchy and bouncy to drive along in a carriage, and they made it harder to carry anything to and from the house. Marya twisted her heels so they dug a little deeper into the pebbles and smiled. Her silly, impractical driveway that her parents were forever saying they should change and had never done anything about. She was home. 

Penelope had turned to collect their travel bags from the carriage, but Marya called her back and asked the footman to deal with them instead so that they could step inside together. 

Age had not led Marya’s mother to giving up on entirely pointless formalities, but Marya supposed that she hadn’t really expected any different. She’d traipsed after the servant who’d greeted them at the door whilst trying quickly to smooth her skirt down as much as possible, and wondered too late whether her hair was neat enough after the journey because the door to the foyer was already opening and her name was already being announced. She fixed her posture as quickly as she could manage, and stepped through the doorframe wondering whether other women in their late forties still feared admonishment from their parents. 

“Marya!” 

Her mother had greeted her with a slightly unexpected embrace, and in that moment Marya thought once again that she was about to break down into a melting pile of tears. But she gripped herself tightly, laid an arm across her mother’s shoulders to return the gesture, and pulled away with a smile. 

“How was your journey?” her mother asked, leading her towards the sofa by one gloved hand. 

Marya was almost so caught off guard that she found herself without an answer; her mother was still holding her hand, still smiling, asking her questions. 

 “Jan didn’t say why you were delayed, is everything alright? Oh, and look at this! You stood on the deck the whole time, I can see that - goodness, look at your hair,” 

She reached out to fix one of the strays, and Marya sucked her teeth as she smiled again. No need to ring alarm bells for the apocalypse after all; her mother was still her mother. 

“I’ll fix it before dinner,” she managed. 

“I should hope so,” 

She almost could have laughed. 

“It’s so good to see you, Mama,” 

“You too, my love,” she pulled Marya a little closer to press her lips briefly against her forehead, “My precious girl,” 

They’d sat for a short time talking before a soft knock sounded on the door and a maid stepped inside. 

“Excuse me, ma’am; you asked me to inform you when Mrs Van Eck’s room was prepared,” 

Marya couldn’t help but twist her shoulder, slightly, at the title. Sometimes she forgot that was her name. 

“Well that’s about time, too,” her mother complained, as Marya stood and offered her a hand to follow. 

“Mama, please-”

“A half hour before your arrival I told them to be ready. Ghezen, no-one does anything properly around here anymore,” 

“Mama,” 

Her mother ignored her. Her eyes had landed, for the first time, on Penelope, and she was frowning. Penelope looked marginally terrified, but Marya wasn’t entirely concerned - her mother tended to have that effect on people. 

“You don’t work for me,” 

“Mama, this is Penelope,” said Marya, attempting to cross a tightrope between remaining polite to her mother and begging her to be polite to someone else for once, “Jan said he told you she would be accompanying me; he said you would have a room for her,” 

“Yes - yes, of course, I’m sorry,” she said, before acknowledging Penelope with a brief nod, “Well you know where your room is my darling; Janie will show your maid to hers,” 

Penelope glanced nervously between Marya and the maid at the door, presumably Janie, before Marya gave her what she hoped was a reassuring nod. She took herself for a brief walk around the house, before she went upstairs. Just to stretch her legs, after the journey. Just to see it. 

It didn’t take the front hallway to break her, not even the worn out rug that the cat used to sleep on because it was perfectly positioned to catch sunlight from the window above the door. It didn’t take the wide salon to break her, not even standing and staring blankly at the very spot she’d stood on to meet her future husband. It didn’t take the corridor that ran along the edge of the kitchens at the back of the house to break her, not even though she could smell the herbs and vegetables that had been brought in fresh from the garden instead of shipped for miles to reach them. It didn’t take the slender doorway to the servants’ staircase to break her, not even the thought of hiding behind it and pressing her back against the handle as someone rattled in it in fury to try and find her. It didn’t take the staircase to break her, not even the chip in the paint that she had caused when she was fifteen and no-one had ever got around to fixing. It didn’t take the first floor corridor, where the ever-closed door to her father’s ever-empty office watched her walking to the next staircase. It didn’t take the second floor corridor, not even when she caught her toe on the rug that lined it just as she had done a thousand times over, her entire life. 

It was only when she opened the door, when she was confronted by her childhood bedroom, that Marya broke. 

Nothing looked any different than it once had - even her bear, though he had been carefully propped up on the armchair next to a cushion instead of laid against the pillow, was present and accounted for - but it took Marya several minutes to pick herself up off the floor and wander through the dreamland. It was hers, yes, and it was all the same - but somehow that felt inherently incorrect. Her bed - a bed that she had never been forced in, a dark and twisting thing in her chest voiced the realisation of - was, of course, unslept in; the bookshelves dusted but untouched; the curtains still before the panes, when they’d always been partly lifted by the breeze when she was here because she liked to keep the windows open; her wardrobe still storing the pale dresses of a twenty-year-old girl. It felt like she was floating through a memory - no, that wasn’t right; this looked far too unlived in for a memory. It was like being in a museum, some kind of display about what the world used to look like when people had lived inside this house; everything was correct, all present and accounted for, kept neat and tidy and perfect, but it was devoid of life. You didn’t feel that anyone really existed here. 

Marya had been back inside this room since she was twenty. She knew she had. She must have been. She would have brought Wylan here, when he was small, to see his grandparents, and surely she had visited with her husband at least twice. Had she ever been back alone? Yes, her mind promised her - but it couldn’t catch hold of the memory. Marya paused, leaning against the white-painted bedpost and studying the canopy. The funeral? That might be why she couldn’t remember it properly. 

Marya’s father had died when her son was three. It had not been entirely unexpected, they knew his health was deteriorating, but it had somehow shocked her all the same. She knew they’d left Wylan at home, as tiny as he’d been, but had she come alone? She tried to search her mind, but truthfully she hardly remembered the funeral at all. And now her mind was wandering to the places that she never allowed it to go - no, it wasn’t wandering at all it was running; it was running through the wild and locked-up places that she had firmly told it not to ever touch, evading her every attempt to catch up and drag it back. 

Wylan, three years old, sitting on her lap. Wylan, seven years old, getting paint in his curls when he came to see what she was doing in the art room. Wylan, barely months into his life, slowly relenting from his wailing as she rocked him in the middle of the night, singing him lullabies. Wylan, nine years old, leaning against her chest and weeping silent tears into her blouse as she sang him the same songs.

That one fucking stung. The memory hit her like a punch, crystal cut clarity of her son’s tiny frame pressed against her own, the feeling of her lips pursed so tightly together as she tried so desperately not to try in front of him. 

“It’s going to be okay,” she’d promised him, when the lullaby was done, “Mama’s got you,” 

Wylan burrowed closer and Marya closed her eyes, rocking him silently back and forth, trying to form a surely doomed escape plan deep in the back of her mind. 

“Mama’s got you,” she said again, “You’re safe,” 

The muscles in Marya’s legs would appear to have temporarily stopped working. She was on the floor again before she’d even realised it, kneeling at the foot of the bed, unable to control the tears spilling down her cheeks.

She didn’t even notice that anyone had knocked at the door until it creaked nervously open. 

“I’m sorry, ma’am, are you-?” Penelope’s voice broke off as she leaned around the doorframe and laid eyes on Marya; as Marya turned in surprise to see her, “Marya?” 

Marya lacked any possible response, but could only watch as the girl pushed the door quickly shut behind her and hurried across the room. She let her put an arm around her shoulders, and took the handkerchief she offered her in silence. They’d been sitting there for a long while before it dawned on her that Penelope had used her name. She turned to look at her; her voice barely loud enough to exist as she whispered: 

“You called me Marya,” 

Penelope’s face blanched, her hand stiffening against Marya’s shoulder. Marya reached out and laid her own gloved hand on Penelope’s. 

“Thank you,” 

The girl shrugged. 

“No-one… no-one should have to deal with bad memories alone,” 

Maybe Marya should have been concerned that she could read her so easily, but instead she dared to venture: 

“Do you - you don’t have to answer this, but… do you remember things? From before?” 

“It’s easier here,” Penelope admitted, after a brief bite of her lip, and Marya felt aware that her words came more easily here as well, even her general awareness of the world around her, “So far from the city, I suppose. I can… I don’t usually know my name, until you say it  - and then you say it and I think of course, but the shape of it goes away again,” 

Marya watched her as she spoke. The girl had physically drawn into herself, knees pulled up and arms tucked into her chest, but this was the most she’d ever had of a real conversation with her before and, in that sense, it was the most open Marya could have imagined her being. 

“I don’t always know your name,” she said, “but it comes a little easier. I didn’t… except for when you ask me - I don’t mean that you pry, only like when you asked me if I’d ever left the city, or-”

Maray nodded, trying to calm the quickened pace of her words. 

“Except for then, I don’t always really know that there was a before,” 

“But… now?” 

“My name is Penelope. I know I had a surname but I don’t know what it was. I lost… something- or someone? Something happened, when the… the…” 

She tapped her forehead twice, then drew a little circle on it with her fingernail. 

“It was in the city,” she said, still trying to show Marya what she meant, “They had the circles and… it did something else. They had fevers, and something-”

“The firepox?” said Marya suddenly, “The Queen's Lady Plague?” 

Penelope nodded. 

“I was very small,” she closed her eyes and Marya knew that she was there; she pictured her as a small child, wandering alone and frightened through the disease-ridden streets of Ketterdam. Her voice was a dreamy, vague whisper as she went on: “There was a woman… such a pretty woman. She said she’d help us. It would be so easy. I didn’t understand - she wanted my sister, really; bigger than me. I just… sort of happened to be there too, I think. It would be so easy, she promised us. All we had to do was sign our names,”

Marya felt a little ill. She knew, in theory, that her husband had capitalised massively from the plague by offering Grisha contracts to people desperate for safety from contagion, most of them those without anywhere else to go - and she knew he hadn’t been the only one. 

“How old were you?” 

“... eight? Maybe nine. My sister was sixteen, I think,”

She was the same age as Wylan, maybe a year older. No. She was the age that Wylan was supposed to be. The age he would have been by now, if his mother hadn’t failed him. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “No-one should have done that to you,”

“Well,” Penelope turned her face back to Marya’s, smiling under her slightly tearful eyes, “Couldn’t have you left here all alone, could I?” 

She nudged their shoulders against each other, and Marya found an absurd laugh escaping from her throat. 

“I’ll say thank you,” she smiled, “But I really wouldn’t recommend this course of action in the future,” 

Penelope raised an eyebrow, surprising Marya with the dry response: 

“I’ll remember that for next time,” 

Marya had made a decision - or maybe she had made the choice a long time ago, but was only just realising she’d done it. She didn’t know. She just knew that if it came down to it, and Ghezen knew that at some point it probably would, she’d make sure that she protected Penelope from anything she possibly could. Her son was beyond her protection, but the girl sitting next to her was not. Was she? No. Marya had to believe that she wasn’t. She had to believe that she could keep her safe. 

[rebornologist]

♡ Misc. Varia Headcanons ✧ 1 of 2

✧ Belphegor is fascinated by the dentist office kid's toy. He thinks its an absurd little contraption, but he really enjoyed something akin to mouse trap as a child and the structure of moving blocks and balls reminds him of that silly little game. It's where he began training his brain to set up traps. He would have also been a Lego kid and enjoys a good 3D puzzle. Unfortunately for him, he also had a very traumatizing childhood and is not the best at tuning in to and soothing his inner child, so you won't necessarily find him building a little miniature saw trap for fun.

Speaking of the dentist office, he built up a very meticulous routine with his dental health and adheres to it pretty well, despite being fairly lazy with everything else. It's just a part of his morning and evening routine, so he doesn't think much of it at this point in his life. Compared to the rules and to-dos that he had growing up, this is the most lax living situation he could be in.

୨୧ ⁺˳₊ ✧

✧ Lussuria is a notorious shower singer, it's like he has whole entire pop concerts in there. He will go through Lady Gaga's entire discography if nobody stopped him. He may not always have time for it, but hell, he will make time because there is nothing better for him than a little Sunday reset everything shower. He has a similar routine prior to missions as well.. gotta look and feel his best for his fabulous job, clearly.

He's an enigma for how packed his schedule is and how he has time to do so much. He has missions to complete, physical training and conditioning, so much paperwork to fill out, and is actually in charge of a lot of the Varia "onboarding", if that makes sense. Part of it is because he does see them as a family and wants everyone to be welcomed appropriately to the team. A lot of the underlings really like Luss for that reason, he's the most warm and welcoming, as odd as he can be. A number of Varia members don't even get to see their boss in the flesh, mostly hearing about him.. or hearing his outbursts and being too scared to approach and find out what happened this time... as a result, many are most familiar with Luss and Squalo as the representative leadership.

୨୧ ⁺˳₊ ✧

✧ Levi loves a good affogato, and would rather die than let the word get around that he likes ice cream in his coffee. He does not like black coffee at all, and sometimes is secretly, on the inside, extremely displeased when that is all they have available. He's got too much of a tough guy exterior to keep up to bring it up, though.

He uses a ton of alarm clocks to wake himself up, and it's fine until they are working from outside of their usual base and the walls are any less soundproof than the ones at their mansion. He's a heavy sleeper, and he falls asleep fast. Like, flop down into bed and start snoring within 90 seconds type of fast.

Y'all is it so obvious that I'm so work-brained right now.. why am I thinking about Varia onboarding procedures... I love Luss so much can you tell. I was going to continue with the other members but I got sleepy... gn xx

[missingmayuri]

At Midnight

Mayuri X Reader

It wasn't often you were asked to stay behind for extra work, Captain Kurotsuchi usually preferring the company of someone he trusted more. Someone like Akon or Hiyosu. In the past Mayuri was very reluctant to let regular workers into the lab past hours but more recently he began to do just that for reasons unknown. Most of the time he called upon you, unable to really understand why. Not only that but your late nights with the Captain always played out much different to what others in the squad experienced. Some experienced anger, most experienced dismissal.

Not you though.

You experienced intelligent conversation and consideration, sometimes even an acknowledgement of your skills and smarts. It was very unlike him, that much you knew but you appreciated having a mostly quiet and spacious place to work in. You had no reason to complain and one day you would thank the captain for the opportunity to work in such conditions.

Standing at the cold steel table you place your scalpel to the side, wiping off the specs of blood with your stained cloth. Tonight the Captain needed help dissecting some specimens, claiming he needed a steady hand for more delicate veins and arteries. Despite knowing Mayuri had steady enough hands you didn't question his choice, doing as he asked every time. It was always the best to stay on his good side.

You wrap a cleaner cloth around the dismantled miniature hollow to stop it being exposed to open air, placing it in a nearby cooler box for even more protection and writing down your findings in the notebook Mayuri had supplied you with. It was black leather and guilded gold down the spine, filled to the brim with knowledge the Captain insisted you commit to memory. You had once questioned him many moons ago about the nature of such a gift, knowing nobody else had received a thing. Let alone something so beautiful. You were met with a huff and a wave of a ghostly white hand in response.

"Have you ever considered I want my squad members to take pride in their research? To display it in the proper manner and with the upmost respect?"

You still didn't understand weeks later if he was being sarcastic or genuine but knowing Mayuri Kurotsuchi it was probably the latter.

You take the specimen over to the shelf, alphabetized by species name and size, making sure you placed the container on the correct shelf. The Captain seemed in a better mood today and you wanted to keep it that way, able to hear little chuckles and noises of excitement and exhilaration from the other side of the room as he looked closely at the hollow before him with a large gleeful grin, mixing various compounds into his beaker close by.

"Yes! Excellent! What a fantastic subject!"

You watch him closely, always fascinated by the love of his work and the care those slender and nimble hands put into it. You find a soft smile making it's way onto your face as you continue to stare, getting lost in those deep golden eyes that shone through the dim lights.

It doesn't last long, your smile suddenly replaced with a deep blush upon being noticed. You frantically apologise, turning back to the shelf as you suddenly hear sandals tapping on the cold lab floor. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, thoughts all over the place and unable to pin one down. All you knew is all of them involved Mayuri.

Would he be mad at you staring?

Was be going to shout, blame you for breaking his concentration?

Everything was swirling like bloody water down a sink and in your sheer panic and hearing the footsteps halt did your mind piece everything together.

All the late shifts, just you and him.

The expensive notebook.

The lack of a raised voice and the compliments.

He couldn't be. Right?

"Care to explain why you were staring?"

His voice was calm, yet had a slight amused edge to it, shocking you so much no words could exit your mouth. You could produce no more then mumbles and stutters, his mere voice taking the wind out of your sails completely. You could hear him chuckling behind you, breath hitching as he turns you to face him. Your face surly couldn't get any hotter, immediately proven wrong when Mayuri takes your hand gently and pulls you to the table he was working at.

You couldn't think, mind a foggy mess as a scalpel is once again placed in your hand but this time over the specimen the Captain had been working on.

"I have a little experiment I want to try. It's going to take a few nights to complete"

Your hand was shaking over the hollow, unable to find a decent grip as you tried to focus on both it and the Captain's words.

What sort of experiment did he want to try and why did it involve you?

A pair of slender arms wrapping around your waist, kiss to your cheek leaving a black lip mark was enough to freeze you completely and grip the tool tighter.

"I want to see how well my best worker works with distinctions"

The blush depends but this time accompanying a smile.

You wouldn't mind a few more late night shifts after all.

[thesith]

— Chapter Five: Return to Coruscant

Bedtime Story Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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“Calm down, will you?” Crosshair snarled at the child, who somehow was making this situation worse for him.

He was trapped on Kamino’s facility with his ex-squadmates - his brothers, who left him. “Loyalty is everything” my ass.

“Sorry,” Omega offered, attempting to stop the bouncing of her leg. “Our brothers usually help me relax, but they’re busy. Obviously.”

Crosshair crossed his arms and huffed, wanting nothing more than to shut the kid up, “What do they do?”

Omega smiled at the ground, remembering the story her brothers had been sharing with her, “They’re in the middle of telling me a story-” Omega was cut-off by a whine coming from Crosshair, “The story is about the Commander.”

Crosshair’s body went rigid - the Commander. One of the only people he’d truly cared for. “How far did they get?”

“Up to the incoming transmission from Coruscant.”

Crosshair sighed, “Which one?”

You greeted the council member respectfully, regardless of how much you didn’t want to. You were used to bottling your feelings - this was no different.

“Padawan, you will be returning to Coruscant to continue your training under a new Master.” The older Jedi spoke, not even gracing you with a greeting.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, “Which Master will I be training under?”

“You’re looking at him.”

Your jaw dropped. Of all council members, he was the one you’d least expect to take a Padawan under his wing. He was also the one master you did not want to train under. “Thank you for this opportunity, Master Windu,” You replied cordially.

”Report to the Council when you arrive, Padawan. Safe travels.”

The last part was so unlike him, but you nodded and cut off the transmission. This was the absolute worst case scenario - leaving Clone Force 99 earlier than anticipated on less-than-optimal terms with Hunter, and having to train under one of the harshest Jedi imaginable.

Tech, Crosshair, and Wrecker looked at you with dread in their eyes - they didn’t want you to leave either. Tech looked away from you and set the navicomputer to Coruscant’s coordinates, jumping into hyperspace.

As if on cue, Hunter made his way into the cockpit and could feel how upset everybody was, “What’s this all about?” He asked cluelessly.

You blankly stared at the unknowing clone, “I’m being hailed back to Coruscant to resume my training.”

Hunter’s face dropped the same as everybody else’s before tightly wrapping his arms around your frame, nestling his face in the crook of your neck. You returned the embrace without hesitation.

The trip back to Coruscant wasn’t as long as you’d wished it was - filled with reminiscing over your times together and some tears, you realized how much you really loved your squad.

”You know,” Crosshair started, looking into your eyes as your ship descended into the Coruscanti air, “You aren’t the worst Jedi ever.”

“Thanks, means so much coming from you,” You sarcastically retorted, a hum coming from the recipient.

“I just might miss you, Commander,” Crosshair said, “Take care of yourself.”

You held out your arms for an embrace, which Crosshair “reluctantly” accepted. You knew he wasn’t one for physical touch, but he wouldn’t admit to wanting to be hugged from time to time.

After the hug with Crosshair, a waiting Wrecker took his turn to speak, “I’m not afraid to say it, I’m gonna miss you.” He held out a miniature Lula for you to take - the ‘child’ of Wrecker’s tooka doll.

“Wrecker… I can’t accept this.”

A small smile enveloped Wrecker’s mouth, “She’ll be in good hands with you. Plus, it’s not like she’ll be gone forever. You can give her back the next time we see each other. Lula wants you ‘ta hold onto her, too.”

You ended up taking the mini-Lula into your hands and holding her to your chest - he was more thoughtful than he led on.

You felt the ship set down on one of the Temple’s docking bays, shaking you from a thoughtful stare, “Thank you, Wrecker.”

“Commander, if I may,” Tech emerged from his seat, holding a small red and black droid you’d never seen before, “This is BD-99, an explorer droid. I’ve read that BD units make for excellent companions, so I constructed one to accompany you on your travels.” Tech pressed a button, allowing the droid to spring to life and jump from his hands to your shoulder.

“This particular unit is equipped with a holoprojector, scanners, sensors, and various tools you may need along your journey without us,” Tech further explained, “I have also transferred data onto her with some holorecordings. I do hope she will suffice.”

‘99 greeted you with a chirp, which you replied happily to. “Thank you, Tech. I’ll take good care of her.”

“It is not a problem, I do hope we will see each other soon. Your insight will be missed.”

As you approached the door to the Marauder, the ramp descended toward the cement landing pad - this was it. You started walking down the steps, two feet meeting the solid ground. You took a deep breath of the Coruscant air and allowed your eyes to scan your surroundings - you wanted to turn back.

A familiar hand rested on your shoulder, pulling you into their arms. You could tell who they belonged to from anywhere. You relaxed into Hunter’s embrace - one you’ve come to love over the many rotations spent with Clone Force 99.

“Saving the best for last, huh?” You mumbled into Hunter’s chest, which he acknowledged by tightening his arms around you.

“This your way of admitting that I’m your favorite?” He laughed bittersweetly, “If you didn’t know, I’m gonna miss you.”

You smiled, “Even when I throw things at you on the Marauder?”

“Especially because you throw things at me on the Marauder.” He focused on you, “Not having you around is gonna be weird, Commander.”

“Eh, you’ll get used to it,” You released your grip on Hunter, taking a few steps back, “All good things come to an end.”

Hunter had a reminiscent look on his face in consideration of your words, “I wish they didn’t have to.”

You nodded in agreement, “Well, it’s not like we’ll never see each other again, right?”

The question with an uncertain answer lingered in the air for a moment before Hunter spoke, “Yeah, you have to give the doll back to Wrecker sometime.” His gaze landed on the tooka doll that's head peeked from beneath your robes. “Plus, I’m sure BD-99 and Gonky would enjoy a play-date.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled at the Sergeant, “Just for the droids, right?”

99 beeped from your shoulder in agreement, a subsequent laugh falling from your lips. Once your laughs subsided, you realized that Coruscant has never felt so quiet. You slowly blinked at the man in front of you, who in the year you’d spent together had become many things to you; a stranger, a leader, and a friend… among other things.

“Stay safe out there, Sergeant.”

Hunter nodded, “Shouldn’t I be the one saying that to you?”

You shook your head with a smile on your face, looking toward the cement before bringing your eyes to meet his, “I’ll see you sometime, Hunter.”

He used his pointer and middle fingers to salute you before walking up the Marauder’s ramp and turning around, watching your parting figure.

A thin hand placed itself on his shoulder, just as he did to you moments ago. “They’ll be fine, Hunter. We’ll see them again.”

“Yeah I know, Crosshair.”

[berrypass-de-murdler]

2 - 25 The Big Reveal

OMG SEASON FINALE HVJNKBGDF I'VE BEEN WAITING TO WRITE THIS FOR SO LONG

NAAAAA i'm just gonna jump right into it it's a long episode

Although! To fit Cartoonverse lore it is a bit different from canon as usual, just to warn you!

DON'T READ THE EPISODES WITHOUT READING THE BOOKS!!

The submarine arrives in France, and the guests head back onto land, eagerly awaiting Logico’s long-awaited story conclusion.

LOGICO: The Bloody Assassin did not kill Beloved Butler Beryl. In fact, I doubt they were even real.

The people gasp! 

LOGICO: I’ve delved into the past once more and did further research. I’ve noticed discrepancies in the texts. Lord Violet was not standing heroically with a sword, faced against the assassin - he was lying on a bed with only a bag as a weapon. Lady Violet was not a small child. She was a teenager. And yet, there was definitely the sword. I’ve seen the blood on it. And my final conclusion is…

Irratino arrives at the isles. Everything is in flames and completely destroyed. But he feels Logico still with him. He must have escaped.

IRRATINO: [out into the distance] LOGICO, I DON’T KNOW WHERE YOU ARE, BUT I TRUST YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO. AND I’M COMING, NO MATTER HOW LONG IT TAKES! LOGICO: I’m afraid Beryl… killed himself.

There’s a gasp of shock from the crowd, and an air of sadness. 

LOGICO: The poor fellow. No one deserves such a fate.

Lady Violet claws at her face. She can’t take it anymore!

VIOLET: No! That’s… you’re not right! LOGICO: I looked over the facts, and… VIOLET: You’re wrong, Logico. I was there. And I’ve been lying to you about everything!

Logico envisions the past! (aka a flashback)

VIOLET: My father was rescued by Beryl a long time ago.

The injured fawn Lord Violet collapses outside the dead forest. But a small figure approaches to help - it’s baby Beryl! 

BERYL: LITTLE GUY! YOU’RE SO SMOL!

Violet kicks and tries to stand.

BERYL: ‘ERE DO YOU WANT A CUPCAKE?

Violet turns and looks at him. Beryl falls down in shock of his burnt face. But he still slowly offers a cupcake to the thing. Violet, weak, hobbles over and sniffs it, doubling over in surprise of the sweet scent. Beryl is very amused!

BERYL: YOU WILL BE CALLED VIOLET, BECAUSE YOU’RE PURPLE!!

It’s not like the baby deer can object. He follows the miniature muppet home.

VIOLET: Beryl was the original heir to this castle. But as they grew older, he gave the honor to my father. He was respected and feared by all. The Reds had no motives to murder him, and the Iron Tsar wasn’t even the one who killed him. He brought so much income to the war, killing him would mean killing a fortune. But someone else had the motive. LOGICO: … VIOLET: It was me! I had the motive! If my dad continued to support the Reds, all the money that was supposed to be mine would disappear.  

Teenage Lady Violet tries to argue with her father, but she can’t. He can’t respond to anything, and chooses what he wants to listen to. He can completely ignore his daughter and no one can tell the difference. 

VIOLET: I wish you were a real person instead of just some animal!

Lord Violet’s face is so empty and expressionless. Even though it’s impossible to tell, she can just feel that he does not care. 

VIOLET: The problem was… he was still so much stronger than me. If he wanted to, he could kill me with ease. I needed backup. So I got Beryl.

VIOLET: Do you see how he treats you? This is not a friendship! He treats you like an animal! BERYL: WELL… I GUESS. BUT I DON’T WANT TO DO ANYTHING BAD. VIOLET: ‘Bad’ is subjective. Come on.

VIOLET: And I forced him to kill him… BERYL: NO! NO! NO! YOU CAN’T MAKE ME KILL HIM, HE’S MY BEST FRIEND!! VIOLET: He is NOT your best friend. He locks you in a CAGE. He hurts you EVERY SINGLE DAY!  BERYL: BUT… I LOVE HIM! VIOLET: NO, YOU DON’T!!! You have the sword. He’s just a deer. It will take two seconds. BERYL: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!

VIOLET: Beryl was bound by life to serve us. He had to do what I said.

Lord Violet is asleep. But the second Beryl is locked in, he jerks awake. The butler is full-body trembling, holding the sword he was given. Shutting his eyes tight, he makes a slight movement forward. Lord Violet leaps off the bed and thrusts the sword out of his hands with his horns, breaking it in two. 

BERYL: [bawling] I DON’T WANT TO KILL YOU!!!!

So Lady Violet barges in and does the job for him.

VIOLET: We buried him under Beryl’s name. No one could know he had died. We were Lord Violet now. 

They have to wear a disguise, an awkward two-person suit that looks like Lord Violet from a distance. 

VIOLET: And we switched our sides and fought for the Iron Tsar. With his terrible cross-eyed vision, we could fool him easily. We thought…

The Iron Tsar can still spot a crucial detail, something they couldn’t incorporate into the disguise.

LOGICO: Lord Violet had one functioning eye… and it glowed red!

The pigeon shoots down the impostor. Lady Violet can escape. But Beryl, in front, is mortally wounded. When Major Red arrives, he can tear through him with the greatest of ease - because the costume, and Beryl’s body, are both made of fabric.

LOGICO: You… You are a horrible, horrible person… VIOLET: I KNOW. But THAT’S the answer you’ve all been waiting for. I did it! I killed my own father! 

She falls to her knees and completely breaks down.

VIOLET: I killed… my own father…

And so, as it turns out, Lady Violet was the dark secret of the Violet Isles.

Irratino probably knew the whole time.

The end! 

We love you beryl

And no one ever knew how Lady Violet became Lord Violet's daughter

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[neptoons1998]

Stay with me Tonight

Summary: Margo needs a night to rest.

TW: Panic attack and Parents yelling at each other

A/N: Here's the first one. I might post the rest tomorrow.

Tag Gang: @mal-urameshi @somethingcleaverandwhitty @pantherheart

Margo couldn’t handle it. She was at her breaking point. Her parents were having another screaming match again. Normally she could tune it out whether that was playing her video games or helping lead the going home machine at the Spider Society.  She knew her home life wasn’t perfect. She would get sad looks from Jess, Gwen, and strangely enough Miguel. Even though his rough exterior he was soft and gooey to her. Especially when she lingers around the hive, praying that he wouldn’t ask why she doesn’t go home.   

But She couldn’t tonight. 

“THAT’S IT I’M DONE!” her mom screamed. Margo heard a vase breaking on the nearby wall.

“THE HELL YOU ARE!” her father’s voice boomed in the house. Margo could hear a shuffle between the pair. Margo’s chest tightens from the aggression between her parents. Margo felt dizzy as she reached for her watch. She needs to get out of here Margo thought as she pushed her button. She wasn’t paying attention to where she was going 42 universe.

 Margo lay in a fetal position the sharp raindrops touched her cheeks as she tried to calm herself. Get a grip, Margo! She thought as her chest continued to tighten.  A couple of minutes pass and Margo could breathe again. She looked around at the buildings that surround her. Where was she?

“Why are you here?” Miles said. Normally she could handle his rough around the edges. Right now she was barely holding herself together. She could feel the tears slowly starting to form and wanting to spill over her cheeks. Margo wanted to refuse them, she couldn’t look like a crybaby to the guy she liked. 

“Nevermind, I’m going home,“ Margo said simply quickly turning away from him. Before she could get too far away from him. Miles wrapped his hand around her wrist Margo turn to look at him.

“T-that came out wrong,” Miles groan to himself, “What I meant was-arg Let me do your hair.”

“My hair?” Margo repeated letting Miles lead the pair off the roof. Margo looked around skyscrapers reminding her of her own whenever she venture out of her room. 

 Miles nodded, “Yea, you look stressed, Cielito.”

“Okay,” Margo said. If anything she would’ve agreed to it anyway. She didn’t want to go home, at least for right now. 

I have a girl in my room, Miles thought. The teen tried to look unfazed by Margo looking around his room. She stood nearby some of the collectible figures he bought when he went to Comic-Con with his dad, before everything his life changed.  Miles inwardly screamed to himself why was he such a nerd. 

“Nice stuff,” Margo stated as she pointed at the miniature Gundam figure that was placed on his bookshelf.  Miles pulled out his combs and gel, he was trying to use his extra energy to place his products on his desk.  

“Thanks,” Miles said stiffly as he patted on the chair. Margo sat down in the chair, Margo could feel Miles’ fingers undoing her two flat twists. Margo couldn’t help but lend into Miles’ hands as he gently massage her scalp. 

“Are you ready to tell me why are you here?” Miles whispered out to her. Margo felt the slight tug of the comb.

“Parents were fighting again,” Margo said sheepishly, “I wanted to be out. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going until now.”

“No wonder why you had a confused look on your face,” Miles commented as Margo felt the edge of the comb parting her hair. The pair were silent for a while as Miles was consumed with his work. Margo was enjoying that someone else was doing her hair instead of it herself. 

“I’m glad I came to your universe,” Margo commented as she felt a smile tugging on her lips. Miles looked at her, and before she could figure out his emotion he pushed a mirror in her face, “Here what do you think?”

Margo gave a surprised  gasped, “This is great. I love it.”

“Stop lying,” Miles said rolling his eyes. Margo pulled up from the mirror as she touched his arm; causing the teen to feel butterflies in his stomach.

“No really. I love it,” Margo said earnestly, “Thanks.”

 Miles had to quickly look away from her before he did something stupid, “Yea no problem, Cielito.”

“Hmm,” Margo said contently before she looked at her watch, “I think they finally calm down, so I should probably leave.”

“You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to,” Miles replies. Oh my god shut up, me!

“What?” Margo questioned as she lends a bit closer to Miles, “No they would notice that I’m gone for too long. Thanks though.”

With that, she tapped on the watch to make a portal for her to go home. Miles bit his lip before he let words tumble out of his mouth, “If becomes too much again, Margo... You’re safe here.”

Margo could feel tears starting to form again, God when did I become such a crybaby? Before she went to the portal she placed a kiss on Miles’ cheek, “Thanks, Miles.”

When the portal closed, Miles lay on his bed shocked at what had happened in the span of a couple of hours between them, “She kissed me…”

Butterflies in his stomach fluttered once more. 

[veneritia]

siblings & questions tag

Thank you @alintalzin for the tag! This is both the best and worst game for the vi aetier siblings so of course I gotta do it

Who looks the most like Dad?

Charles takes that spot easily enough, and is probably gonna follow Dantalion's footsteps with having "the fair" as an epithet. But all of the siblings (like any vi Aetier) have the trademark silver eyes.

2. Who looks the most like mom?

Euphemia does but with Fenice as a close second. Euphemia is essentially Eudocia in miniature both in looks and in attitude, though Euphemia has a bit more of a ruthless streak. Fenice looks remarkably like Titania in coloring but she doesn't have Titania's vibes, yknow?

3. Who eats the most?

Konstantine does but he's also one of the pickiest eaters. Whatever food he does like though he makes sure to eat a ton of, and his mother indulges him anyway.

4. Who has been in the weirdest situations?

Fenice. Her whole life has been weird ever since she was born and is probably just gonna get weirder. I mean, who else has weirdly vivid dreams about attending a banquet with your dead ancestors where the host may or may not be (a) god?

5. Who sleeps the most?

Basil, but he's basically a toddler so he needs his naps.

6. Most stable romantic life?

Well, of the three that are old enough to have a romantic life (Fenice, Charles, Euphemia)...none of them. For one, Fenice has zero interest in romance and will continue to have zero interest in romance (very ironic considering who her parents are). For another, Fenice is already married but it was arranged and she and Nike are indifferent to and loathe each other respectively. Charles and Euphemia's eventual marriages are a matter of state, so any 'official' relationship is kind of off limits. They both have a long line of suitors and have been known to enjoy flirting here and there, but other than that they've never entered any actual romantic relationship.

7. Worst habit of each one?

Fenice's tendency to think the worst of everyone and especially herself. Charles developing tunnel vision when pursuing something he wants at the expense of everything else Euphemia never failing to give back-handed compliments when she talks Konstantine just kind of wanders off in the middle of conversations when he's bored (he's a kid) Basil has terrible table manners (he's a baby)

8. Who's the most dramatic?

Hands down it's Fenice. She might fool most people with her whole "I am untouchable, nothing can faze me, I am unbothered" facade but you bet that she's having the most dramatic inner monologues 24/7. I blame anime

9. Who had a weird phase?

Weird is relative when it comes to the vi Aetiers, but I don't think anyone had a particular weird phase. Unless you count Charles who's trying to overturn the whole vi aetier kinslaying tradition, which the majority of people think is weird.

10. Best cook of the family?

Bold of you to assume they've seen a kitchen before.

11. Best memory together?

As in all 5 siblings together? Uh....none really. I mean it was only recently that all 5 of them were even in the same city, much less spending time together.

12. Worst memory together?

Those are book 2 spoilers ;)

13. Dream trip together

No one would be stupid enough to put them in the same vehicle. Maybe if you pair them off it'd be feasible and we'd get somewhere, but all five? not possible. They're also just not that close as siblings. (Konstantine and Basil are the youngest by a significant age gap. Euphemia and Charles' mothers have some real bad blood between them because of The Incident TM. Charles and Fenice are considered the closest out of the siblings but like, some of this is one-sided and Fenice still harbors a lot of resentment towards Charles).

14. Would you rather not be able to shower for a month or have the same clothes for a month?

It gets stupid hot and humid in Kaelstanopoli, especially during the summer. All of them would rather have the same clothes for a month than not bathe. That and the baths in Kaelstanopoli are like top tier.

15. Who's the older one?

Fenice

16. Role model?

Fenice - her mother and many of her paternal ancestors that she's read about and studied Charles - Dantalion and his uncle Andras Euphemia - her mother Eudocia and her great-grandmother Saphynia the Iron Queen Konstantine - Charles Basil - doesn't have one yet but he likes copying what Konstantine does

17. Who usually has the worst ideas?

Would it be a cop-out to say Basil

18. A GIANT insect is on the wall, who's taking care of it?

Basil. He may be the youngest and smallest but against bugs??? The most fearless man to ever exist. He's probably try and feed it to his ducks.

Tagging: @thewritersplace @seasteading @writinglyra @thesorcerersapprentice @cheshawrites @sourrcandy @serpentarii @charitet @thatswhereiwanttobe