#even tho they got like five decades age gap

[scarletsky153]

reading all those gofushi (and goita) commentary and laughing to myself bcs yeah there's some problematic shits going on but its not like i didn't ship and read much, much worse fanfiction of snarry and tomarry where their relationship happened while harry was still at hogwarts lmao

(trust me, the hp fandom on ao3 has some of the wildest, craziest pairings and trope)

or its probs bcs ive been on ao3 for too fucking long and already adept at separating fiction and reality and also detached myself from those crazy fics ive read lol

[loganlostitall]

Talking to the Moon

Rating: 13+

Word count: Just under 3.5k

Characters: Judith Grimes, Negan Smith (NOT A SHIP!!!!!!); mentions of Carl, Rick, Michonne, Carol, Enid, and R.J.

Setting: Alexandria, post 6 year jump

Content Warnings: sibling grief, talks of death, a little bit of suicidal ideation in here too I think, vulgarity, light talk of typical TWD violence, just lots of sad. Sorry. Fluffy ending tho!

Summary: Judith is getting older, and it’s not fair that Carl isn’t.

Author’s Note: Okaaayy so I really did not want the first piece I published on here to be an angsty vent but life kinda decided to bodyslam me (as usual) so anyways have this lol. I spent all day yesterday writing this in between crying fits and I’m only finishing it now.. oopsie whoopsies. A little context I guess, my older brother was shot and killed 5 years ago, and in 5 years I will be older than he got to be. That’s heavily implemented in here, as well as just the majority of Judith’s dialogue being my own thoughts/feelings. Sometimes it just hits you again, man. My therapist likes me to write it out 🤷🏻 I’m workin on other stuff that isn’t like this so pls bear w me y’all 😭🙏🏽

Beta’d by @murdadixon as alwayysss

Midnight marked her 10th birthday. 

She liked to keep track of time in intervals of five. R.J. was currently an interval of 5. He died at an interval of five. She was reaching an interval of 5 herself, right now. In a demi-decade, she would encounter the age he’d never passed; and in a decade, she would be 5 years older than he’d ever be. Five felt significant, and she did not—she simply felt like her brother’s stand-in. 

Judith sat on the edge of the wooden boardwalk with her legs drawn up to her chest and both arms wrapped around her knees, chin rested atop them, and stared blankly at the water source before her. Tried to mimic its stillness. But she disrupted it, instead, because the tears swimming in her brown eyes splattered down and sent ripples coursing across the surface, growing larger the further they fanned out and expanded. 

That was, similarly, how missing Carl felt. At the start, it was a heavy impact, it obliterated the calmness, and as the years blazed past, it got further away and yet simultaneously… bigger. How could something shrink and grow? How could she grow, every day; and yet consistently feel as if she were being pushed back, made smaller? Small enough to be back in his arms again, like before, like that final night she knew him. 

She would appreciate his last words this time. She would wrangle her brain up into her juvenile hands and pin it down to carve them over the top of her damn hippocampus to keep them there; even if it did mean her blood got everywhere, even if it meant she lost all the rest of her cognitive function. Truthfully, she did not want to function this way. Being medically brain dead would be a graciousness. Or maybe just being bit.

Feeling the fever Carl did would unite them in a way. 

The panels beside her creaked recognizably, a familiar gait and stride, and Judith’s fingers twitched to move instinctively for a gun she knew she wouldn’t brandish. The scuffed tips of two large black boots entered her peripheral vision but she did not turn her gaze. 

“Hey there, Miss Grimes.” 

Negan sat in a loose mirror of Judith’s position—he struggled with holding his legs in exactly the same manner and had to improvise considerably. He got himself comfortable with his legs toward his chest but with a short gap between his thighs, toes pointing outward instead of inward as Judith’s were, and both forearms crossed above his knees to lie his head upon. 

“Don’t really like water, kid, but I’m diving in there after ya if you jump, so please don’t, alright? For me?” 

The preteen wiped her right cheek against her bicep and tilted her head to rest the left cheek against the adjacent knee and look at her guest. Her eyes weren’t really seeing him, but she was trying to acknowledge the fact that he’d joined her. “How’d you get out?” 

He ignored that she ignored his question and instead plastered on the usual grin, even if the edges were heavy and worn down, and lifted a finger to his smile. 

Shhhh, it’s a secret. It went without saying. 

“I should shoot you. I brought my gun,” she pestered, poking a bear with a stick. Only, this bear was a puppy. And the humor behind the words didn’t reach her tone. 

He decided not to address her monotony.

“Mmhmm. Right.” 

“I would.” 

“I know,” he grinned again, more genuinely, and his side administered a dull throb almost out of nostalgia. She had, in fact, shot him. He wouldn’t challenge that.

There were only a few moments that went without speech. Judith found herself gazing ahead again, tapping her right cowgirl boot without tempo because it was simply to alleviate the odd, incessant gnawing in her gut that screamed to bounce her leg, or else. 

“Why don’t I get to have a word?” she blurted out, albeit quietly, almost unaware that Negan could not read her mind and was clueless to what she really meant. The man hummed questioningly as if to say ‘continue,’ and Judith finished verbalizing the thought. “I mean… mom’s a widow, and you’re a widower. Enid is an orphan. Aunt Carol is a v- vi..lo..mah, she lost her daughter Sophia.” The young girl struggled on the pronunciation momentarily before returning to the point. “But what am I? Just… a kid who lost a brother? Don’t I deserve a word? Doesn’t Carl? I think he deserves more than one. I would give him them all.” 

In truth, Negan would not have heard the second half of her statement had they not been knee-to-knee. Even from only having a view of the profile of her face, he could tell that she was fighting back the need to cry. The intensity with which she swallowed, the twitch of the corners of her frown, her small nostrils flaring. She was probably also avoiding allowing her voice to crack. 

Kids don’t ever deserve to feel this way. Adults can hardly even cope with loss. He’d seen it sometimes before, the occasional teen with swollen eyes and dark circles wordlessly offering him a slip with a small, rectangular obituary card stapled to the top left corner to excuse a few days of absence after the passing of a parent, guardian, or otherwise crucial family member. And similar to now, he truly tried his best… when it came to situations like that. It was hard—shit, it still is hard, but after eventually grasping that what most of them wanted was to just be heard (and not to be told that a kick-ass exercise routine could distract a weak mind, or about how being a pussy didn’t get you pussy), he’d take his attendance and approach again with a juniors mitt and baseball to throw at the wall and catch while they cried, screamed, shook, even dissociated some of them. He’d never been a great man, or honestly even a kind teacher; Savior Negan essentially just carried on acting as he had before Lucille’s confrontation, diagnosis, and passing; but the kids who saw through him loved him. When the rest loathed to hear ‘Mr. Smith,’ though no one was to blame for that but himself. To the damaged kids, the whole façade of coolness he tried to upkeep around his classes was utter horseshit because they found him badass when he let them bitch about things without taking to the nearest phone as a mandatory reporter. 

Judith was, arguably, the most mature ten year old with significant trauma that he’d ever sat with. Children that young hadn’t been his area of work, really, but there were a handful of times one of his high school students had to drag along a little sibling because they’d emancipated after the death of the only responsible parent, were granted custody of the kid, and the younger had a day off. Other stories, heavily similar or drastically different, with the same outcome. Judith was more put together than half of the seniors that had dished their shit out on him. In a strictly militant world and with no empire turning to him for guidance, there was no excuse to be assertive around her age bracket. He would tell her she was strong, that she was an Amazon warrior who could brave anything and then have to explain Wonder Woman comics, but the probability was massive that she could only grasp some variation of control over herself in these heavy moments because life now held a sickening promise that anything could be marred with a streak of blood. That you have to always be ready to mourn. 

So fucked up. 

His prior internal assessment to remain silent and give her more time to process her feelings into words proved correct when Judith turned her head back in his direction again with more to express to him. 

“Dad isn’t here anymore to tell me what Carl was like at my age. Or tell me stories about before everything got bad. And mom wasn’t around for all that stuff. But even if she was, I- I hate always hearing about him from other people. About how they won’t ever get to see him grow up. Why does everyone else get to remember my brother? Why doesn’t anybody care that I gotta know he’s not watching me grow up anymore? I want to remember Carl on my own, but I was too little!” Her delicate voice shattered beneath the weight of her last sentence, and the way her eyebrows were flying into all different angles on her face betrayed that her developing mind didn’t know what to do with the guilt that ignited furiously behind her ribs for seemingly such a selfish notion. It was a vicious fact that Judith almost never understood what she was feeling, not acutely. 

But, she trusted Negan. He’d told her things that no one else had cared to let her know. About Abraham. About Glenn. About Sasha, Denise, uncle Daryl. Everyone she loved had been damaged by him in some way, but… they’d all together affected him, too. 

Maybe he changed. Or maybe he’d been keeping this Negan safe. Whatever the case, here he was, out of his cell, not even allowing his knee to bump her own. 

This man had killed people? He was the kindest one here to her. Especially when it came to stuff like this. Other Alexandrians always dismissed her; she didn’t have any “adult” problems worth sparing their time for. How could the big bad wolf be so tame? 

Judith wiped both of her eyes and straightened her left leg out halfway. “If… if Carl hadn’t got bit, what do you think things would be like now?”

And that question certainly beckoned an answer. He had been allowing her to talk as much as she felt necessary tonight, content to simply sit quietly and be an ear for the little girl as she often was for him. His skull would have been split open on one of those prison walls years ago had it not been for his little window and Judith’s spark of rebellious humanity. 

Negan responded honestly, as was always the case with her. “I woulda killed every last one of these dickwipes, and brought you and Carl back to the Sanctuary with me. I don’t kill kids. But I don’t think your brother would have been too crazy about that. Nah, with those titanium balls of his, he would have taken me down, torn all of my people apart limb from fuckin’ limb. Yeah…,” he peered down at Judith, who was just watching him with her elbow on her extended knee and her cheek rested on her palm. No signs of distress. He continued on. “Yeah, Prick thought he was a badass, but Carl? Well, he was the real badass. Anybody could’a killed me, my bet was on him. Catch me off guard, I wouldn’t have fought back. I think he would have stocked one of my big ass trucks with everything he needed and taken off with you knowing he won. But he also would have lost everything.” 

Now, Judith’s energy had shifted back into that murky cloud it had resembled before. Not entirely, but to a noticeable degree. Negan cursed under his breath. 

“Did I scare you talking abou-” 

“You think Carl would have raised me all on his own? You really think he would have done that?”

“Oh, I know it,” Negan nodded adamantly, without aggressive urgency, and chipped a piece of plastic from the aglet of his shoelace to chuck into the water. “Carl loved you more than anyone else, I think.” 

A brittle, cracked sob drew his attention immediately to the little girl beside him, left hand reaching out to comfort on instinct and then hovering uselessly between them. Judith gave her permission with action instead of words; turning her legs off to the side to be able to roll onto her right hip and notch herself against Negan’s side. She rested her head against his knee and old tears from her cheek seeped through the thin material of his jumper. The previously awkward arm dropped around her own and he settled for hanging his hand at an outward angle away from her body. He’d comfort the kid but any one of the adults here would send Michonne into a goddamned stroke by reporting that he’d made an attempt against her daughter's life by, say, scratching the back of her head. Some asinine bullshit. He wouldn’t risk it, and not because of himself. No, he’s a big boy and can handle his own conflicts. But Judith would get in so much unnecessary trouble. 

After taking a minute to gather herself, Judith whispered, “I think I would have liked that better.” 

“…What, Carl taking care of ya?” He queried. “Y��know that means you wouldn’t have your mom, or dad, or-”

“Mommies and daddies die before their kids do, or they’re supposed to. Siblings are- they’re supposed to be there the whole time you grow up, and after. You’re supposed to live your life together. And they’re not supposed to die before you mom and dad do.” 

“Kid-”

“I want Carl. I’d give up anyone here to get him back.” 

It proved remarkably difficult given how much taller he was than her, but Negan managed to make do. He tilted his neck to a sideways angle and rested his head on top of hers whilst fishing through his right pocket. 

Judith peeked up at him. “What’re you doing? Are you gonna stab me for making you sad? I’ve still got my-”

“No. Don’t be nosey,” he goaded and even ventured so far as to stick his tongue out and wrinkle his nose. Her head dropped back down to his leg just as quickly as it rose, and Negan’s fingers closed around the surprise. 

“Sounds like a candy wrapper…,” she mumbled, still too lost in her own head and the darkness residing. 

Two bright blue pouches withdrew from his pocket, and his brown eyes traveled skyward. “Moon’s right above our heads now. Means it’s midnight. I got ya a gift.” 

A second, smaller pair of brown irises gazed upon the same sky, and her bottom lip began to give way into trembles again so Negan damn near shoved the quite literally sweet present directly in front of her face. 

Judith blinked, eyes focusing on the text in front of them that stood out violently against the package design. “What’s ‘Razzles?’” A small hand accepted the curious, but still exciting new treat, and read the yellow script surrounding the name at the top and bottom. “‘First it’s candy, then it’s gum’? What’s gum?” 

Negan had already ripped his open. “You’re about to give me one fat ass kiss, Miss Grimes,” he mused delicately, tossing three colorful disks into his mouth.

His much younger counterpart followed suit, unsure of how to react while the candy crunched before a scintillating smile broke out across her face and two more pieces joined the first. “Where’d you get these?”

“…Okay, don’t laugh,” he deadpanned, and couldn’t help but smirk when Judith narrowed her eyes at him and raised an accusatory eyebrow, still blissfully chewing away. “I’ve gotta secret admirer.” He drew his shoulders up into a loose shrug, threw his hands out in a ‘surprise!’ gesture and dropped his mouth open to an overly enthused smile as the preteen choked on gum. 

“WHAT?!? What do you mean?! Tell me, tell me!” 

He wouldn’t comment on how much tension finally dissipated from his body and mind at the eager enthusiasm on Judith’s face. This had all been so… glum. “Don’t know, but they slip me goodies through the bars on the window. I asked Father Freaky for some paper to draw, keep my mind busy y’know, and left a note up there requesting a special birthday gift for my best friend. They got dropped in this morning.” 

“So, someone here in Alexandria?” she asked, munching her way through her bag of sweets. There was a twinkle in her eyes, finally, so he’d entertain it. 

He shrugged idly. “I’d assume so. I’ve got my fingers crossed there’s some freaky deaky coming my way!!” 

“Oh, ew. There it is, you ruined this whole thing.” Judith pushed on the side of his knee with both hands to amass enough force to actually shove his leg over. 

“Damn. This whole thing, huh?” 

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, her mouth now so full of chewed up gray gum that speaking proved difficult. 

Negan chomped down on a considerable number of candies all at once and reached for Judith’s own pack of Razzles. “Alright, I’ll just take this then, since I fucked up your birthday and all.” A deep, rumbling laugh burst forth from up out of his chest when the ten year old shouted ‘NO!!!’ and a huge wad of gum rolled out of her mouth to plink into the water and bob along to float elsewhere. The pout her bottom lip garnished was impressive and Negan glanced around to the houses in the distance behind them, all of the windows being dark with the quiet insinuation of sleep, to ensure the absence of scrutinizing eyes before taking one of Judith’s hands into his own to unload half the contents of his own candy until her palm was overflowing and a few stray pieces thumped down against the wood. Negan administered the 5 second rule with a quickness and claimed them for himself. 

“Thanks,” she chimed faintly, and set about organizing the surplus of thin, cylindrical candies into separate groups of yellow, purple, orange, pink, and blue. 

Negan tucked his hand back to his side and pointedly did not give any attention to the prominent droop Judith’s shoulders adopted afterward. He wondered fleetingly if anyone in town ever just… gave the kid a hug. “Ah, don’t worry about it. Really. It’s not like I went out and found these myself.” He pointed one of his own bits of candy at her and added, “Well, you can always just find my paramour and thank them yourself.”                

She tilted her head back against his arm to smile up at him. “You just want me to get you deets. You have a crush on this person already, uncle Negan?” 

“I’ll love anybody who gives me attention at this point,” he shrugged again, tone steady despite the admission. “Aren’t I hopelessly in love with you, Miss Grimes?” 

Her braid swung and the sheriff’s hat far too oversized for her head shifted slightly out of place when she nodded. She tucked the intertwined strands of hair behind her ear after they fell into her face and tickled her nose. “I never hear mom say that she loves me.” 

“Ah, she does.” He tapped a finger against his temple once he knew Judith was looking at him and would see it. “She’s got a lot going on up here. But I bet if you went up to Mich and told her first, she’d say it back.” 

The young girl nodded again, though this motion was a simple, stiff jerk and only once. Drastically unlike the one he’d earned for himself just moments prior. Judith didn’t believe that Michonne really loved her, but she could easily surmise that he did. “Love you, too,” she murmured and a hefty sigh followed closely behind. Judith tapped the toes of her boots against the boardwalk and followed Negan’s offered instruction to bravely attempt blowing her first bubble. It snapped into a sticky disaster on her lips. The pair fell into a comfortable, innocent, expectationless silence. Negan eventually polished off the last of his candy and crumpled the wrapper up to tuck away into the pocket he retrieved it from, along with Judith’s once she’d finished her own. She was, reasonably, exhausted, and it didn’t take long for him to realize that Judith had drifted off leaning against him. 

Next thing he knew, the clouds were graying and little hands were nudging his arm, accompanied by a sleep-slurred voice telling him to wake up. His legs were numb from having remained in the same seated position for what had to be at least a couple hours, but Negan still managed to get himself up into his feet and follow her along as she led the way to his cell. A sheepish smile and tired shrug was all he could muster when her eyes lingered on the lock and bobby-pin discarded haphazardly in the middle of the concrete. He took his place on his cot and watched the child close the bars behind him and slide the lock back into place. 

Judith turned from him to walk away, but threw a drowsy smile over her shoulder and waved. And pointless as it was, he spoke after she’d left and her shadow had already passed by his solitary window.

“Happy birthday, kid.” 

I think I get attached to characters like Negan who are dangerous and have soft hearts because that’s exactly what my brother was like.

I miss my Carl ❤️‍🩹

This is my first time writing for TWD, and the first work I’m posting in over 2 years, so I hope it’s good for y’all 🥺

[navree]

Just occurred to me, An AU where Alicent has 7 children from Viserys and 7 symbolism of them somewhat representing the 7 gods. Not literally of course, but each child represents aspects of them and such through personality and actions. Also how would Alicent handle raising 7 royals and family dynamics and tensions with Rhaenyra ? Viserys neglectful as always.

I think there's a thread somewhere on Twitter pointing out that Alicent's children (the ones we've seen in the show so far) represent different parts of herself so if anyone can re-locate that for me, please do cuz it's interesting and could tie in here.

For one, seven children means three more reasons I want to beat Viserys about the head for constantly having his wife pregnant for the sake of his own whims for basically a decade even tho that's literally what killed Aemma, and honestly fuck him. Fuck him so much. For two, the dynamics of the family would likely be different than we see, just because large groups of kids close in age tend to band together (source: I have eight cousins on my mother's side and we spent so much time together as kids that at this point we basically see each other more akin to half siblings than cousins, which is a stark contrast to a cousin I saw less often on my dad's side).

Assuming they've kept Daeron's birth year book accurate, Aegon was already eight years old when he was born, and with more kids after that, likely would have fallen into some sort of paternalistic/protective role, given both his fondness for kids (I will set fire to HBO if they remove that aspect of his character it's IMPORTANT goddammit) and his own issues surrounding Viserys, who as always isn't involved. So his dynamic with Alicent too likely would have changed, as one of the things we see her desperately try to impress on him after the first time jump is how this family needs to protect and defend its own, and having a larger crop of younger siblings when he's already a bit older likely would have made that easier on him.

I think Alicent would be a lot more protective over her younger children. Let's again assume that Daeron's birth year is canon, so you've got one crop of elder children (Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond), then a four year gap, them the crop of younger children (Daeron, and the hypothetical three other kids). The oldest Daeron could be when Aemond loses his eye is six years older, so any other kids were five and under when this huge shift in family dynamics occurs and their mother (and their older siblings) become convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Rhaenyra and her family are violent threats to their lives and they need to react accordingly. Alicent would likely be the helicopter mom to end all helicopter moms, determined to make sure that they are absolutely the safest they can possibly be. She'd put Cersei to shame, especially once the Dance starts since again, based on show timeline Daeron is about twelve, making him and any younger siblings still children, which is always dangerous during a war. I think Alicent's relationships with the kids we see in canon is largely the same, save for slightly less issues with Aegon, and that they'd all be a somewhat more tight knit group just due to being a larger bunch and the canon circumstances of their lives.

Family dynamics would also change because the Greens would suddenly have much better options. Let's assume that, of the hypothetical children, two are daughters and one is a son, to completely parallel that the Seven have three female aspects and four male aspects, so Alicent has three daughters and four sons. Aegon and Helaena are already married and have multiple kids, to continue the Targaryen family line and marry each other in turn, so likely any other children would be used for marriage alliances, the way we see Aemond get Lord Baratheon on his side by agreeing to a betrothal with one of his daughters. Only, instead of two options, Aemond and Daeron, there are now five: Aemond, Daeron, and the three hypothetical kids, which would give the Greens a much wider group of allies due to people who want daughters to become royal princesses, or sons who are married to women of Targaryen blood. Three extra kids also means three extra dragonriders, to even the score against the Blacks. There might be a somewhat less fearful atmosphere because of these changes, because of the more equal footing there is between the two factions, and Alicent, while still fearful for her children and determined to protect them, would have some reassurances and things to calm her down to know that she's not outnumbered or disadvantaged in the succession crisis she feels is inevitable.

When it comes to relationships with Rhaenyra, I think the younger kids wouldn't have any themselves, given their youth when Rhaenyra leaves for Dragonstone and appears to rarely, if ever, return to King's Landing. So unlike Aegon and Helaena and Aemond, who have concrete memories of interactions with Rhaenyra, and were also there on Driftmark, they'd just know her through word of mouth, and the mouths saying the words are not going to be kind to her. Tensions with Rhaenyra against the Greens as a whole would be exacerbated (which seems insane given how high tensions were in the actual canon), not just due to that more even footing that I mentioned, but due to enhancing things already seen in the show. Now, it's not just four Targaryen children who blatantly look Targaryen, it's seven, in stark contrast to Rhaenyra's three Strongs, making it only more obvious that they're bastards. Seven is also a sacred number in Westeros (as you said, seven gods), so that's a brilliant propaganda tool to use against Rhaenyra, to show that it's not just Targaryen realness on their side, but Westerosi mythology, literally as if the gods themselves are choosing the Greens over the Blacks. It's also more people that the citizens of Westeros, especially King's Landing, can get to know better while Rhaenyra grows ever distant, not just "Queen Alicent, beloved of the smallfolk" and Helaena, so loved that King's Landing rises in riots and literally murders dragons when they hear that she dies. In general, Alicent having kids at all, especially a large number of kids, is a problem for Rhaenyra in a myriad of ways, and adding to that only compounds it.

As to the Seven, it's rudimentary but here are my thoughts so far. I'd actually compare Aegon to The Stranger, the outcast and the face of death, the one whose very birth signaled the death of so many things (peaceable transition of power, Rhaenyra and Alicent's relationship, Alicent's hope for independence from her husband, and all the deaths of the Dance), as well as the fact that Aegon feels like an outcast in his own family even though he's still a part of them and still just as important and as loved, the way The Stranger is still part of the Seven. I would liken Helaena to The Crone, given that The Crone is a figure of wisdom and a beacon to those seeking guidance, and Helaena has dragondreams that portend the future that she tries to warn others about, and she was already (likely through dragondreaming) aware of the fact that a war would eventually break out over the succession. Aemond meanwhile I'd give The Father, because while Aemond is a warrior, The Father is a) the protector of the "family" (the way Aemond is, especially for Aegon, against the Strongs and in going around shoring up support for his reign) and b) The Father is the main aspect of justice, and Aemond is the personification of justice denied, and we know it's something that he cares a lot about, given his outburst at Storm's End. I think Daeron can map onto The Smith, given that he was the most publicly liked out of all of Alicent's canonical children and The Smith is all about putting things right and mending broken things and whatnot. That leaves The Mother, The Maid, and The Warrior for the three hypothetical kids, and that just depends on a lot of different factors, both symbolism and personality.

And also a full complement of seven kids instead of three at the dinner table during the last supper means that all of the Blacks are getting their asses beat after the Strong boys toast, as they deserve.

[jinx-jade]

AWBE Chapter 13: to be seen without pity.

Marinette let out a huff as she laid on top of her bed, staring at the ceiling.

She had begun to envy her time at the temple and League.

Marinette knows that it’s a horrible thought to have and she should never want to willingly go back there.

What were they expecting from her with the way people are treating her.

At least while she was with the league or at the temple, people weren’t treating her like she was someone to pity. Like she was a cracked glass, ready to shatter at any given moment.

The feelings of pity radiating off of anyone and everyone she has had contact with the past month were driving her insane.

Doctors.

Nurses.

Therapists.

Police officers.

The Police commissioner.

Aunt Penny.

Uncle Jagged.

The list goes on and on, even though the people she's allowed contact with are very limited.

She hasn't even had the chance to say hi to her older brother, her fox, or her cat.

She couldn't help but wonder if those three would treat her like this as well.

How much was she asking of people to treat her like a regular person?

How much was she asking of people to treat her with more than just pity and sugar-coated words?

She was getting sick and tired of being treated like this.

Of course, Marinette doesn’t plan on telling one that this is how she feels.

She couldn’t ‘tell’ anyone anyway. Even if she wanted to because her voice still wasn’t back.

Okay, that’s a lie.

Her voice works just fine when she speaks to the kwamis.

Her voice works just fine when she’s talking to herself.

Her voice works just fine when she’s talking to plants and animals.

Her voice doesn’t work with anyone else.

Marinette had tried to talk to people by not looking at them, not saying anything about the league, the temple, Hawkmoth, or the miraculi, but it didn’t work.

In addition to that any time someone is within a five-mile radius of her, Marinette’s magic picks it up and her voice disappears.

It's not like she could just turn her ability to sense people off. It is a skill that has become the same as the skill to breathe. It was a skill you don't even think about when you're doing it, and a skill that you can't just stop doing.

Marinette let out another huff before sitting up off the bed.

She quickly changed into a pair of leggings and a wrap shirt she had made in her spare time. Jagged and Penny being happy to buy her whatever fabrics, supplies, anything she needs or wants really.

Grabbing a backpack, Marinette placed her sketchbooks, Pens, Pencils, and erasers inside the bag.

Marinette sent a quick text message to her Aunt and Uncle, letting them know that she will be in the garden, before placing her phone in the bag with the rest of her things.

The gardens were always rather calming and quiet.

Just not today.

Marinette had already been in the garden for ten, fifteen minutes when a dog came barreling into her.

She tried to coo at the great dame but her voice caught in her throat.

It made sense since the owner was probably nearby. 

Except this was the backyard of Stone Manor.

How did the dog even get back here in the first place?

Her question was answered when a man around her age slipped through a person-sized gap in the fence. The area was covered in vines and soft plants so it made sense that she hadn't noticed it before.

Marinette let herself appear, uncaring to the man as she giggled at the dog that was nosing her for attention.

She observed his energy and had to stop herself from physically freezing.

Her neighbor is the bartender?

He seemed to freeze upon seeing her playing with his dog. The man simply awkwardly stood there until the dog, Titus the name tag read, ran over to him and gave him a push.

The man walked a bit closer, leaving more than enough space for her not to feel crowded, and cleared his throat. She pretended to notice and looked up at him, blinking a few times before offering a smile.

"I apologize for Titus. I hadn't even known there was a way he could get out of our yard." The man said as Titus ran back to her for more pets.

Marinette nodded her head as she scratched behind the dog's ears.

The man watched her play with Titus for a bit before she realized that she never gave him her name.

Taking out a spare sheet of paper, she quickly scribbled down her name before offering the paper to the man.

He looked at her questioningly before reading the paper.

He paused to look at her before looking at the paper again.

"Marinette?" The man questioned.

Marinette simply nodded her head and pointed to herself.

That made the man furrow his brows.

"Can you not talk?" The man questioned, clearly confused.

Marinette nodded her head.

"But you talked at the bar." The man stated.

Marinette nodded again.

"Why can't you talk now?" The man questioned.

Marinette looked at him, really looked at him, observing his body language and energy.

He didn't pity her.

He was simply confused.

He didn't quite lack social skills, they just weren't easy for him.

Almost as if he hadn't learned them till much later.

Marinette paused when she could sense the Lazarus pits on him, but he most likely hadn't been in contact with them for at least a decade with how faded the energy was.

The energy made her want to try something.

Taking out another piece of paper, she asked for his name.

"My apologies, that was quite rude of me. I am Damian Wayne, and that's my dog, Titus." The man, Damian, introduced himself.

Marinette looked at him for a few moments before pointing to her throat, then at her head.

She proceeded to draw a symbol on the paper, writing something down next to it.

When Damian looked at the paper he tensed, reading it out loud to make sure it was correct.

"The doctors said I was traumatized by the bad people." He read, turning the paper to face her. "This symbol belongs to the 'bad people?" Damian questioned, receiving a nod from Marinette.

Damian looked at her with a new weariness, as if she was a weapon instead of a cracked glass about to shatter, and kwami was it nice to not feel someone's pity.

"Why are you telling me this?" Damian questioned cautiously.

Marinette handed him another piece of paper.

"You have the Lazarus pits energy on you. It's faded, so my gut says you're safe." Damian read out loud again.

He looks at her for a bit before letting out a sigh and taking a seat next to her, Titus happily laying his head down in Damian's lap.

Damian took one of her pencils and wrote a number on the paper before handing it back to Marinette.

She looked at the paper with curiosity.

"You'll run out of paper if you keep talking like that. Texting would be more effective." Damian said as if that train of thought wasn't missing a few details.

Marinette took the number and added it to her phone.

_______________

+1(***)-***-****

: Why do I need your number to talk to you?

_______________

Damian looked at her confused before releasing his mistake.

"You just got out of the League. I'm originally from the League. If you want to talk about something that happened there I would be the best person to talk to." Damian explains.

Marinette tilted her head in thought before shrugging with a nod of her head.

_______________

Marinette

: but why would you do that?

_______________

Damian looked up from his phone and raised a brow at her.

"You said it yourself, your gut feeling is that I'm safe. Plus I've probably been through something similar to you." Damian said with a shrug.

Marinette thought about it for a moment before shrugging.

They ended up sitting in somehow comfortable silence for the next hour or two.

Marinette only left to head back inside when she got a text from Penny that it was time to eat, so she has to go back inside.

Titus let out a whine when she stood up to leave.

_______________

Marinette

: it was nice to meet you again

_______________

" you as well Marinette."

With that Damian and Titus went back to their side of the wall, and Marinette back into the manor.

tag list:  @liquid-luck-00 @lunathealphafemale @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @dorkus-minimus @istoleyourcookies @itsmeevie01 @ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole @miraculousfanfic127 @macncheesemonster @fan-written @moonlightstar64 @the-one-woman-army @remy-289 @ramos123 @jjmjjktth @ash-amg @glastwime859 @alysrose-starchild @elizabeths-rambles @animegirlweeb @iamabrownfox @northernbluetongue @thecaptainthunder @meismu @nyx-in-line @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @m3owww @icerosecrystal @legends-live-in-memories @salty-fang @a-marlene-s @savagenutella46 @elliebelliegirl @fangirlfox12 @miraculouspenta @t1dwarrior-of-earth @alittlemelody716 @charme-de-malchan @what-even-am-i-tho @raven-campanile @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 @iamabrownfox @maskedpainter @our-preciousss @jayjayspixiepop @kking13 @stainedglassm @always-a-fangirl146 @corporeal-terrestrial

[heroismdreams-moved]

What's the largest age difference for a ship you'd write before it gets a little "ehhhh..."? assuming all are of age and excluding immortals

{ It’s Munday, Ask Me Anything! }

( Assuming all parties are of age and excluding immortals… it’s honestly hard to say. )

( To make a ‘Tl;dr’ :  ASSUMING ALL PARTIES ARE OF AGE : No Awakening First gens, no Fates second gens, depends mostly on how muses interact and chemistry with the exception of Heroes where Cynthia has to stop fawning over them first. If you’re like two decades older than her then it gets kinda weird tho.)

( I have a deep love of medieval fantasy, as well as actual history, and so I am aware that in medieval/renaissance/regency settings people got together with wildly different ages because that was the norm at the time. And I read a lot of stories involving age gaps. A young girl who just entered marrying age and looking to settle down may find a young man her age handsome, but more often the older gentleman with a stable income is more likely presented as a better match. )

( And it’s weird, because while I’m aware that Fire Emblem doesn’t follow the rules established of most medieval fantasy universes, I’m also aware that it still could. It really comes down to my muse. )

( Cynthia is a noblewoman by default through Sumia. She used to be really lady-like too, and before everything went to Apocalypse, she probably already figured out that when she grew up if she could marry someone gallant and strong and her age - then that’s wonderful and the stuff of fairytales - but if a match is made for her and it’s someone older than her, she knew it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Mostly because her parents wouldn’t arrange a match for her with someone super older than her, she could always oppose the marriage and have it broken off if she really was against that particular person, and also slightly because it was almost normal for that to happen. She didn’t precisely want to marry anyone, but she knew it would probably happen in some nebulous eventually because nobility and politics and her family is in the favor of the Exalted family (if not a member of the Exalted family herself ) and there’s probs lots of other nobles who want in on that royal favor. )

( But then the Apocalypse happens and there goes societal convention because now it’s time to fight for survival and there’s no more time to mind your ‘p’s and ‘q’s and worry about an eventually when there’s no guarantee a tomorrow could even still happen. And then everyone save for herself and her friends gets apocalypse’d and it’s time to go to the past. )

( And once there, Cynthia is very firm in that she doesn’t really want to be with anyone who shares a generation with her parents. Doesn’t matter if she’s their age now, it’s weird to her, so that basically limits her to the other future children - so in that case the biggest age difference is either with Laurent or Lucina, or in an extreme AU I guess Nah from a few centuries in the future would become the biggest age difference. )

( And in her Fates verse, it’s a similar limiting factor in that she would want to be with someone in the same ‘generation’ as her, and the Fates first-gens are the ones who fall into that category (sorry, Deliah isn’t being shipped with any Fates second-gens. Period, end of story. She can be their mom but she ain’t being their anything else) )

( But the Fates first-gens all have wildly differing ages from ‘newly adult’ like Elise to ‘grumpy old man’ like Gunther (sorry Gunther). So from there it’s still down to my muse to decide where she draws the line. )

( And honestly, the line is drawn based on how the other character treats her and how she sees them. Like, Gunther she’s going to see his age and bearing and how he treats Corrin and Felicia and instantly see him as a fatherly-figure. And Elise and Sakura, she would be more likely to see as friends or as sisterly-figures. And on the quick topic of Heroes - if she can get past the literal hero worship, then maybe. Me and a friend are discussing a ship in a Heroes verse and the biggest obstacle there is the fact that Cynthia idolizes this person and cannot think of them in a human way.)

( And just to give something of a clear numerical age: My favorite Jane Austen novel is Sense and Sensibility. One of the pairings in that novel is between Marianne, who is sixteen, and Colonel Brandon, who is thirty-five. Now, modern day - that age difference is gross and illegal and creepy and wrong and I would never endorse that, but Regency - that’s expected and normal. So I guess if you’re more than sixteen years older than her then it gets a bit ‘EHHHH’.)

[kyberled]

SHIPPING INFO // Answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog.

REPOST. Don’t reblog.

What’s your OTP for your Muse?:  Honestly I’m slain by Braiba with @rvcnge and Braigsoka with @ashsung so I mean both of those he’s just shook by his SOs 24/7

What are you willing to RP when it comes to shipping?: Pretty much anything? Though I will say sex/general smut is not a huge thing for this muse. It’s not a hard no as much as it is a ‘probably won’t happen often’, and obviously it would only happen in his adult verses and won't be written with muns or muses who are underage, and I prefer ooc chats beforehand to set boundaries and comfort levels, even if only for my sake. I’d rather take five-ten minutes to chat than make a friend/myself feel gross cause a line got unknowingly overstepped. Oh, I’m also against writing abusive relationships, both because they do the opposite of detoxing for me and because shipping is the only nice thing I let Braig have. I’m absolutely not against Braig having enemies and all that, but in terms of romance/familial I try to keep it nice and healthy.

How large does the age gap have to be to make it uncomfortable?: Okay so it depends? Obviously I won’t ship a minor with an adult (Unless it’s like a pre-established ship, like Braiba, where Boba’s three years younger than Braig; If they’ve been dating for a few years and Braig turns 18 while Boba’s 15, I’m not gonna burn that bridge cause that’s ridiculous. No smut or anything [tho that’s not a thing w/ these boys anyway], but yeah). So like no master-padawan ship here (Ofc that’s also not a problem cause Obi’s his dad; but this goes for Braig being a master too), uh... Usually 20 years is too much for me? So like 20 year old with a 40 y/o? No. A general rule I use is half Braig’s age plus seven? So like 20 y/o braig could date a 17-y/o, but in this case I’d keep it as someone he was dating as a teenager himself, so like if we’re continuing Braiba and they’ve been dating for like say five plus years? Or since the gap is 3 he could date a 23 year old? 30 = 15+7 = 22? But a lot of the time it depends. I don’t like huge gaps but as long as it’s all consensual and it’s all reasonable like... Okay I’m ranting but the long and short of it is I really have no specifics as long as it’s not like “I was voting age before you were conceived” 

Are you selective when shipping?: Absolutely. I’ve had two really bad experiences with people trying to ship with me right off the bat, before I knew them or their characters, one of which was actually pretty squicky (aka claiming [publicly] that I was aggravating their depression and whatnot whenever I didn’t have my character kiss theirs as soon as they first met) that really made me anxious and uncomfy so. I pretty much have to know the mun and muse or else shipping is a no-go.

How far do steamy moments have to go before they’re considered NSFW?: Honestly if anything happens in the groin area, it’s nsfw.  If breasts are involved, it’s nsfw.  Other touching or steamy kissing is not, but certain ‘dirty talk’ might also be tagged nsfw if it gets too explicit. <- Honestly I’m just going with Liz on this one. Anything I wouldn’t want my eight-year-old kid brother seeing will be tagged either NSFW or (if it’s just kissing) PDA. I’m not the only one with lil kiddos potentially seeing the screen.

Who are other muses you ship your muse with?: I don’t really have any other ships yet? I gotta give it some time and interaction but yeah. In terms of platonic/familial ships: Cody ( @itspersonalforus ) (and also Liz’s Mace and Quinlan); OBVIOUSLY the Space Dad Obinobi ( @highgrcund ); Shaak, Mars’ usually but other space moms are in league; @ashsung‘s Ashla and Puk; @n1hr1k as the uncle; @wolffeleader as brother; @duskisms is sister; @estrellarosada as mom/aunt; @fugitivc is another aunt; and hell if you’ve been on this blog you know that there are a million other famjams

Does one have to ask to ship with you?: If there’s chemistry, and we’re buds ooc, then chances are I’ll be shipping it as well? So far everything I’ve been shipping has been mutual which is rad? But I’m a bit of an awkward bean so I REALLY appreciate people telling me ‘hey, our muses work really well together, I think we could ship.’ I mean even then I prefer letting it play out, but I will otherwise just sort of dance around it for a long time before I can work the courage up to say so myself?

How often do you like to ship?: Whenever there’s a spark my compadre. 

Are you multiship?: Absolutely. Each one takes place in a different timeline/verse unless all involved parties have discussed otherwise, but yeah!!! I love putting different relationships out and seeing everything that goes down. Also, Braig can’t choose between his SOs, don’t ask him to try.

Are you ship obsessed or ship more-or-less?: As long as Braig is happy and the other folks are into it, I will scream about it and send asks and just rant and rave for days bruhski. Again, it’s the only nice thing the muse really gets so it’s the best way to get him happy and active!!!

What is your favorite ship in your current fandom?: Braigsoka and Braiba are the only ones I have and I could survive off them and only them for a decade each

Finally, how does one ship with you?: Get to know me and my muse (BY INTERACTING AND THREADING, not by reading my blog from the shadows, cause then I won’t know you; gotta be a two-way thing) and then if it works and it feels good to you just hit me up? Like seriously as long as we’re chill and comf with each other I’m down to dougie friendo

TAGGED BY: @itspersonalforus

TAGGING: literally every mutual and anyone who ever wanted to ship with Braig and anyone who also likes kitty cat toe beans

[rsrchag261107]

K-Hole

Trend Forecasting as Creative Practice - Rhizome

That makes my head spin. The walls are truly down, shit is over and shit is forever. Trend forecasting is art - okay, let’s move in with it...

K-Hole is a collective of 5 born out of graduating into the recession and accepting that world. They were accepting of the world where they freelance, where they have a dayjob, where they are both a painter and a graphic designer - where they willingly function as both.

K-Hole has released five trend forecasting reports:

K-Hole #1: FragMOREtation - A Report On Visibility

This is scary. It’s scary because in 2017, this is not a forecast. It’s not an idea - its happening. It’s happening everywhere from Nike to Taco Bell to the dickhead trust funder who owns 5 bars in Leeds, each pretending to be a cool, chill, spot.

Post-recession, we wanted to feel free from corporations. We wanted a world in which we could have our spots. Where we could have our communities, where everyone had something - your store, your venue, your bar, your cafe - the consumption economy was there because we just wanted shit we could relate to. I don’t want to drink my coffee next to the guy who works in a band - he is not part of my social group, why would we share interests? I don’t want to go to starbucks.

I have a friend who never ever carries cash. It annoys me to no end, since a lot of places that function as venues for nefarious doings don’t always take card. This dude just doesn’t buy stuff. At the bar “can I pay with card?” “Cash only”

He’ll just sit without a drink.

This is an anal dickhead problem, get cash and keep places sketchy. I don’t think people will rush into paying their dealer with venmo. Either way, it’s an uncomfortable thought, making money social. This is six years old, what am I even saying...

K-Hole #2: Prolasticity - A Report on Patience

I used to work in social media & digital marketing - I was forever saying this to higher ups. It’s a dangerous fact, but still a fact. People knowing about you, you being a name in the conversation, that is infinitely more important that them doing one thing once.

The spot I worked at was a law firm, dealing primarily in real estate but in most other legal matters as well. My argument was that rather than drumming up individual pieces of business, the aim of digital marketing was to infiltrate the culture of all potential clients. My view was that rather than selling your house through us and getting on with it, we should be concerned with making everyone you know think of us as their first port of call for any legal need. That’s how you build loyalty.

These companies are trying to become part of your social network.

K-Hole #3: Youth Mode

This report talks about the death of age, something I’ve been looking into in my own writing (although I’ve been discussing the death of time). The above statement really stuck out to me.

When i was 20 (just turning 21) I enrolled in an art course at a local college in Scotland (lasted 3 months). I thought I was pretty on it, I know about cool shit, I dress cool, I’ve lived. These kids, 2 or 3 years my junior, didn’t give a fuck. I had been phased out of the generation gap, I didn’t even get my shot at being an elder statesmen.

Fast forward to 2015 and starting art school, same thing again. I got nothing, man. Can’t catch a break. I can’t figure this out, how do social movements go from being over a decade long to being flipped every two years?

Marketing.

There’s a lot more money to be made by introducing a new aesthetic. It’s a lot easier to integrate new advertising theories, marketing methods and technologies into new things than it is to adapt them to dying trends. People wanted to create look books of themselves, so now companies treat people like these marketers. We are made into something new (at our own volition) because that’s the world we just to inhabit. The best part is, if we can afford it, we can inhabit the space of Youth for as long as we want. None of us were ever going to retire anyway, right?

This is a great statement. We’ve created a thought catalogue in social media - an ever evolving wish list. Our friends and followers (more importantly, followings) are there for the scraping. So, we’re listening to a lot of trap but we’re dressing like a suicide girl? Where’s the crossover. Nobody in “Youth Mode” can afford to be as boutique as they want to appear, we’re amalgamations and not individuals, so companies offer us these little slices of ourselves in stores we would never shop in, but are shopping in. Everyone has an asos account.

“You’ve been working so hard at being precise” - This is really fun, really apt paragraph. I got a lot of love for the person who is being precise, I look at them on the internet like some kind of fantasy creature. A weird cyborg that is in it’s earliest prototype stage - this shit is bananas. It’s bananas because it’s a kid (emotionally lol) who has the time and energy and fucking brainpower to turn themselves into an ad real. Into a perfectly curated image of whatever they’re on at that time. Cafe indie kid starts off slow and 18 months later is an instagram punk - shit, you bore me. I don’t know how you do it. It’s real cute tho.

It’s these motherfuckers. This sarcy trend forecasting group - they coined this term. Beginning of the end, something like that. On the inside I’m 50 on the inside I’m 15.

K-Hole #5 - A Report on Doubt

Wiki didn’t list what #4 was so I just rolled by it, w/e. This is reallllll interesting. We get to 2015, a year I spent quitting my digital marketing job and moving to England to go to art school. Seems like these guys did too...

Chaos magic!!!!!

I am a super huge fan of Last Podcast on The Left. That’s where I first became aware of the term Chaos Magic. I am so unbelievably excited about these two converging interests that I literally can’t contain myself. I’m talking directly to you. I’m breaking the fourth wall. This is fucking it, man!!!!!!!!!!

    So our digital marketing trend forecasting new york &  berlin straddling demi gods over at K-Hole are now going to attempt to do actual magic because their shit is feeling wack? I’m in.

I love this one. The idea that witches are real because everyone believes in them is great, it’s true. We manifest a world in which witches exist and have power over us because we believe them to. Mark Rothko paintings have a psychological effect on us (nope) because enough people said they did.

The fact that this tweaky thing exists is almost too much to comment on. This, the group that coined normcore, that made “basic” academic, that diagnosed the generation purged by the internet and nu-advertising, is talking sigils I love it.