#having and raising their child in the book and the show (and in the book they’re like still fwb when this happened not even together it’s

[percivaltheknight]

Yeah, this says it so fucking well.

I have some big feelings about this entire thing. As a trans man, and as someone who was raised in a very gendered parenting heavy culture.

As much as my mom claims to not care about gender stereotypes, there's so many things she's said or done or expected from me, that she expected to see, that she prepared to see in her growing Girl Child, that she never got. And it shocked and annoyed her every time, because I wasn't following the Rules TM.

And my dad was always the type to keep his opinions to himself, but it's clear to see that he's always been a very firm believer in gender roles and stereotypes.

This created a very awkward environment for my brother and I. My brother who liked sewing and crocheting and origami, who hated the fixing and yard work that dad expected him to learn how to do. My brother who's now teaching himself how to cook, who buys himself cookbooks, because my parents never took the time to teach him anything besides how to turn on a grill.

And then me, who was dragged to knitting circles by my mom and grandma, who said, "it's good for you to learn a craft" but ignored all my interest in other things, because clearly those aren't Real Interests. Me who learned anyways, and then taught my little brother, because he wanted to be involved but was never brought with. Me who learned chess so I could play with my dad, who always said no, not today, but was always disappointed when my bro showed no interest. Me who borrowed my dad's sword art books, and his castle books, and toddled after him to his fencing clubs and through the hardware store and into his work shed to see what he was doing, who listened for hours when he'd tell me about medieval culture and building techniques and weapons and armor and knights, who watched all of the documentaries with him long after mom and my little bro got bored and wandered off to do other things.

And my dumbass parents were surprised that I named myself after a knight from arthurian legend when I came out as trans.

And at the same time, while my brother is teaching himself how to sew and how to cook and is making crafts and knitting, because he enjoys those things, they ask, "why didn't you tell us you wanted to learn?" and we both just sit there and share a look, because really? Where have you even been? Were you paying attention at all while you were raising us, or were you just on autopilot for 18 years?

I mean, yeah, there are still things we like that belong in the Assigned Gender Category. My bro likes his tools, and he's always been proud of his skill with computers and videogames. And I do like crocheting, and cooking, and makeup, now that i've found my own way of doing it. But those aren't things we like because we're supposed to like them. Those are just things we like.

But I think I figured out why I hated pink and purple so much as a kid. When every birthday and christmas present you get is the same color that you've never shown interest in before, and when everything in your room is the same bright happy shade of Something Someone Else Likes, you tend to cringe at the sight of it.

Gendered parenting is so weird. As a little kid I was a total daddy's girl, I was told I would always try to sneak into the garage, I was always very interested in everything he was doing and would follow him around while he was working, but while my family was never the type to outright say "you can't do that because you're a girl", they simply didn't entertain the idea that I could possibly be interested in cars. Then when my little brother was born, it was just assumed he would become a mechanic like our dad because he was a boy. Even though he, unlike me, didn't like being in the garage much and wasn't all that interested in what dad was doing. Once he got to a certain age, dad started making him help and would drag him away from his actual interests for it, which lead to a lot of arguing and not much actual learning.

Gendered expectations sort of create doubles of children. There's the real child with their actual personality, interests and behaviors, and then there's the Gender Child.

My real brother hated soccer and team sports. The Gender Child that existed only the minds of the adults in his life needed to play soccer because that's what a Boy Child does.

Growing up, I always felt like adults didn't actually know me as a person and they weren't interested in getting to know me. Because they felt they'd already learned everything there was to know about me when they were told "it's a girl".

When I talk about how I never got gifts I actually liked from my relatives (to this day I still don't like getting gifts that aren't something I picked out myself), it isn't actually about the gifts themselves. I don't even remember them. What I do remember is the feeling of being given gifts that were seemingly not bought with the real me in mind. They were for the Girl Child™️ version of me. The me that adults wanted me to be, not who I actually was.

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 27

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Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: Oddity

Notes: /

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  27/47

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Your head felt heavy against the cold brick wall as you awoke from the slumber they had forced you into. Your arm was hurting and you hoped the wound on it was not bleeding again, they must have dragged you into this freezing cold place. A cold dark cell, surrounded you, the bars a couple of feet away were rusted and by the rain dripping through small holes in the ceiling you could smell the rust.

When you saw who was at the other side of them, you prayed it was a nightmare, or that you were dying and that this was just a delusion. “Father?”

Aldith was reading in your mother’s journal, he had your satchel under his arm. “You brought a lot of misfortune on me, child. Killed my son, betrayed me, and because of your husband’s recent outburst against the Trinity Guard they now have Ravenwick under guard. Because of you, I cannot return home.” He closed the book, came to the bars and stuck his arm through them, he threw the journal at you with force and you had to cover your head to dampen the impact. “Foolish little whore! I was far too gentle with you.”

You grabbed your mother’s journal and stuffed it inside your jacket, a desperate attempt to protect it against him. You saw him take your own journal out of the satchel.

He dropped the satchel to the floor and began to look inside your journal, being careless with the pages, causing tears on multiples ones as he searched through them. “Cassian is death because of you, because of that Weeping Monk. Ravenwick is lost to the Church. You owe me a debt, one you will pay or suffer the consequences.”

You refused to be blamed. “Cassian is dead because neither of you kept your word on the trade with Father Carden, your hunger for coin killed him!”

He snapped the journal shut with his hand and you could barely avoid being hit by it too, it hit the wall just above your head, he kicked the satchel against the bars. “You dare accuse me?” He scoffed. “I heard of what you did the day that the Weeping Monk caused that chaos that happened in the paladin camp, do you think you can use that magic of you now? You were given enough of that flower that I know you will even struggle to walk. You should be very quiet, child.”

He had heard about it, about the green fire that had send the paladins to flee for their lives.

“Where am I?” you gritted out through your teeth angrily.

Aldith found great pleasure in speaking of your fate. “In the castle of the Lord of Morrowstead. He has been waiting for you ever since he gave me the coin. You are his newest novelty. I would expect a visit from him very soon.”

It came out bitter, “You sold me.”

He had no mercy to show. “You were free for the taking now that your husband is dead, you belong to Lord Leoric now.”

The earth was pulled from under your feet, even though you sat on the ground you felt like falling. “What did you just say?”

Aldith had a malicious grin on his face. “The fool tried to stop my men from taking you at the inn, he tried to follow them, they cut his eyes from his skull and burned that Fey child he was with alive.”

Ice ran through your veins, hot tears came over your cheeks but you no longer felt them. A numbness stronger than the effects of the flower had overtaken every inch of you and you no longer heard what Aldith was saying. It no longer mattered what happened next.

        Aldith did not stay for much longer, he must have noticed how you had locked the world out. The only thing you could think of was Percival and Lancelot, how they had been murdered only because they had tried to help. You had not moved since the news had been given so cold and cruelly, and you doubted your legs could carry you now. Guards who wore helmets that covered their heads and faces from harm, stopped at your cell’s door. You wondered how hard it would be to drive a dagger through the space left open for their eyes. They opened the cell door and in stepped a man who was dressed like a noble.

He looked only a few years older than you, short golden hair and a rather uptight look on his face as he studied you. “I am Lord Leoric. Do you know where you are?”

You turned your head away in response to that. Whatever it was that awaited you, you had no energy left to fight it.

Lord Leoric got closer, looking down at your bound wrists. “This castle will be your home from now on. You are a fine specimen.” When no reaction came from you, he continued, “A half-blood and Ash Folk. A rarity. I look forward to seeing what you are like.” He reached out to touch your face, but you recoiled. “No markings… Fascinating.”

He rose up from to ground and spoke to his guards. “It is time to bring her to her quarters. Have her bathe. See to it that she wears clean clothes, we cannot have her looking like she has lived in an inn.”

That vain comment pulled you to the present, you glared up at him. He didn’t seem to care one bit, he was looking at you like an acquired toy.

“I have read all I could find on your kind and unfortunately there was not much, what better way to learn than to observe the species itself.” Lord Leoric beckoned for you to stand. “On your feet. This dungeon will only make you sick and the Ash Folk is rare enough as it is.” His guards pulled you to your feet roughly and he noticed them doing so. “Careful. She is worth her weight in gold and more.”

You were watching it happen with widened eyes, it felt surreal. Were you something he wanted to study? To lock you up and examine you? As they walked you out of the dungeons and on more than three sets of large stairs, you tried to take in your surroundings as much as you could. The place was perfectly clean, there were short pillars with oddities and strange statues in every hallway. The Lord of Morrowstead was a collector of sorts, and you prayed he was not of the insane and cruel kind.

You dug your heels into the carpeted floor. “My husband-”

He had been walking up front and turned as you spoke to him for the first time. “What was that?”

“My husband… I was at the inn with him and a boy.” you swallowed hard. “Is it true that they were killed?”

“That boy is in my dungeons.” he said.

Some broken pieces of your heart put themselves together again. Percival was alive, imprisoned but alive.

Lord Leoric looked at his guards expectantly. “Have we received any word about the Weeping Monk?”

“No, Sir.” One of them answered. “Those sellswords did not speak of the Weeping Monk to us.”

“Strange.” he hummed. “Who told you he was dead?”

“My father.” you felt a spark of hope. “He said his men killed him when he followed them.”

He scoffed. “That would be atrociously foolish. If the Weeping Monk is truly of the Ash Folk, he is worth quite a generous amount to me alive.”

You saw an opportunity to use this to your advantage. “Then you should find out if he’s still alive.”

He looked at one of the guards. “Have a group search for him. Death or alive, bring his corpse if you have to.”

“Yes. Sir.” The guard said, slightly disturbed by his Lord’s odd command.

Maybe there was still hope, maybe this was another one of Aldith’s ways to hurt you. Still, you feared to let that hope truly in. The thought that Lancelot could very well be dead was a thought you could not stand. To miss him, to lose someone like him… no you couldn’t bear the thought.

Lord Leoric began to walk ahead again. “You see, many believe I am unwell. My interest in the oddities of the world unsettles many.”

“What is your intent towards me?” you demanded to know as he came to a halt at a large door.

He was ridiculously casual about it. “The most valuable matters that I collect are kept locked away, as you will be. When I heard of your existence I had a room prepared that will be your home from now on. You will have all you want.”

The reality of the situation hit. He did not intend to treat you in a humane way. “Except my freedom?”

“You are far too interesting to be wandering around freely.” He opened the door and the guard made you follow inside. “A bathing room, table and chairs to eat like the civilized, a comfortable bed. A bench to sit on covered with the softest wool. What more could you want?”

“My freedom.” you deadpanned.

He turned to face you, agitated. “If you believe that I am not able to make you compliant, you are gravely mistaken. I own you.”

Fury burned inside. “I am not your property!”

Lord Leoric looked at one of the guards and gave a nod. The guard came to stand in front of you and struck you with the back of his hand. A shocked gasp fled your lungs.

“There are rules,” he said, watching the guard step back into place, “-that you will follow here. No fleeing, you stay where I tell you to stay. No talking back to me, know your place. Follow my orders, if I tell you to jump, you jump. If I tell you to crawl, you will crawl. Obey my rules and I will let you keep that satchel with the journals. Disobey and I will have you burn them page by page.”

The guards steered you to the bathing room, Lord Leoric followed and pointed to a stack of clothing that were on a chair next to a large wardrobe.

“There are only gowns.” he said. “I do not want to see you in those filthy clothes again. Bathe.”

Your clothes were not filthy, but he was so condescending that there was no reasoning with him. It must have been because they were not like the fancy ones that he himself wore. A Lord who was vain and obsessed with rare things, you doubted you were safe in this place. He would treat you like nothing more than a caged animal to entertain himself with. If you acted compliant, maybe he would be reckless enough to think you would not try to escape. For years you have had to behave like an obedient servant to Aldith and Cassian, you had enough experience to play the part.

With your head down you went to the stack of clothes and picked out a gown at random. “May I wear this, please?”

He picked up on the change in your tone quickly, seeming to approve of it. “No.” he said, then handed you his own choice of gown. “Wear this one.”

Controlling too. Great. Just great. You looked at the large wooden tub that was already filled, it’s steam had filled half of the room.

He used a short dagger to cut the ropes from your wrists, using the dagger again to threaten, “Do as I ask. Bathe.”

Lord Leoric and his guards left the room you were then locked into, trapping you into the golden cage of a madman.

        Bathing was frightening, anyone could have unlocked that door and walked into your quarters. And the area of the bathing room was only seperated from the rest with a thick curtain, not even a door was there to offer some more privacy and certainty. Never had you washed up so fast in your life, and you hoped that Lord would not wish to inspect that you had indeed followed the order. You walked out of the bathing room in the gown, a simple thing but it did show some more cleavage than you had hoped it would. They had taken your weapons from you, and now you couldn’t even wear what you wanted. Your old clothes were hidden under the wardrobe, a precaution in case they would come and take them away. The satchel never left your hip out of fear it’s contents might get lost forever. Just as you were about to sit down on the bed, the door was unlocked and Lord Leoric walked in alone.

“You bathed. Good.” he sounded like he thought it was proper to even demand it of you. A small vial was in his hand and he held it in front of you. “To avoid encountering unnecessary problems.”

That scent… it had been what was on the rag, you could smell it. They were trying to keep your magic sedated.

He saw your reluctance and his tone got cold. “Drink it.”

You tried to keep the anger out of your voice. “You won’t kill me if I don’t.”

“Do you wish to see me release my fury on that child instead if you dare to disobey me? That can be arranged.” he warned. “He will wish Aldith’s sellswords had killed him.”

You were so eager to hit him, to strangle the life out of him because of that threat. But you had to remain docile, if he suspected you were going to try and escape the second the chance was there… Reluctantly you took the vial and began drinking it.

He was watching. “All of it.”

The taste was awful, too bitter on your tongue. Almost did you let him know, but you held back. He took he vial back and inspected it to see if you had drank every single drop of it.

“Aldith is my guest here.” he said, stepping away. “Ravenwick is no longer safe for your family. It will be interesting to learn all about you with his help.”

His help would be of little use, Aldith never bothered to learn who you really were. To him and Cassian you were nothing more than the one they could put all the work and blame on.

“Take a seat.” He gestured to the bed whilst picking up one of the many candles in the room.

You rolled your eyes the second you had turned, and sat on the edge of the bed. He approached you with the candle, handing it to you.

“I was told you can make fire turn green. Show me.” he demanded.

Did he think you just changed the colors of fire? Was he not aware of what those green flames actually were?

“I can’t do it on demand.” you lied.

He did not appreciate that. “Let me inform you that for each time you irritate me, that child will lose one of his fingers. Perhaps that will encourage you to do as I ask.”

You focused your eyes on the carpet, or risked him seeing the murderous intent in them. “I’ll try.”

“Good. Now.” He thought it smart to rush it.

The Hidden were so quiet when you tried to focus on the flame, they could sense how forced you felt. It took some time before the flame of the candle turned a little green.

Lord Leoric stared at it, already impressed with that small change. He took the candle from your hands and watched it until the flame turned back to normal.

“How fascinating!” He was pleased. “Well done. You have earned your meal.”

Earning meals… being held in a place against your will… it was Ravenwick all over again. The only difference was that he would hurt someone else and blame you for it. He even took that candle with him like it was a trophy as he walked out the door. When you heard the lock being turned, you got up from the bed and went to the windows, breaking them would be no problem but the iron bars blocking your exit were. And tying the sheets in the room together, even if you did include the drapes, would not offer enough to climb down to the ground. Escaping would have to happen through the castle and you were not going to leave without Percival. Maybe if you made him think you could be trusted Lord Leoric would let you roam the castle. But then there was Aldith… it would be harder to mislead him and there was a high possibility that he had already warned Lord Leoric about you trying to escape.

The results of the vial were going into effect, the drowsiness began so fast that you barely reached the bed to lie down. As you tried to fight against sleep, you worried about Percival. He was just a boy and they had locked him up in the dungeons. Was he cold? Scared? How cruel could people be to do this and believe it is right… the plant in your blood won and pulled you into sleep’s embrace for the night.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  The next day had already began strange. Lord Leoric had you bathe in the morning, again. Heavens forbid you tainted his shiny tile floors… it almost made you feel self-conscious but then you remembered that you were just something he had collected and he wanted your appearance to be pristine. Your questions about Percival received only vague answers, it was infuriating. It wasn’t easy to resist using the strap of your satchel to strangle Lord Leoric, but you kept your anger under control by thinking about what could happen to Percival in return. By fulfilling his request the previous night, you were given a meal the next morning. The plate of food and bowls with soup and fruit were anything but little, still you only dared to eat the fruit because you feared they had stuffed more of that plant into the rest. Drinking that vial last night was enough to weaken your body and keep your magic from awakening. If you wanted to get your freedom back, you would have to play it smart.

In the evening Lord Leoric had come to your quarters again, he sat down at the table scribbling away in a journal whilst watching you stand by the window across the large room, it was unnerving.

“Has there been news about Lan-… my husband?” You caught yourself before speaking his name.

He kept writing, unbothered by the question. “Aldith confirmed that his sellswords had to kill him. I still want the body found, anything of the Ash Folk is worth examining.”

You turned away from him, feeling the tears well up in your eyes and your body painfully tensing up from the distress. It couldn’t be true, someone as experienced in battle couldn’t have been defeated by some sellswords. It couldn’t be… “If he is found. I want to see him.”

The request was met with ridicule. “You’d want to see his corpse?”

“Yes.” Was your firm answer.

“We will see.” He sighed and went back to his notes.

You took a step towards him. “And I want to see Percival.”

He didn’t even look up. “No.”

Your patience was running thin. “I demand to see him!”

Lord Leoric stood up from the chair and approached, stopping only a few steps away. “The only one who gets to make demands here is me. You should be glad I don’t leave him to be eaten by the rats.”

You had to take a step back, too tempted to lash out and attack him. “I want to see him.”

He was not to be swayed. “And you will have to wait until I consider you worthy enough to have that as a privilege.”

His eyes landed on your hand, a displeased look on his face. “You did not bathe properly.”

What? Upon looking down at your hand you noticed a small bruise near your thumb. “It’s not dirt, it’s a bruise!”

It did not convince him, his nose scrunched up as if you smelled like manure. “Bathe before you sleep. Otherwise you will ruin the sheets.”

He turned and left the room, but you did hear him command his guards to make sure you bathed again. Your skin would dry out quickly at this rate. To avoid them having to push you into the bathing room, you went there yourself and they closed the door to your quarters when they were positive you were following that order. The last thing you wanted was for them to be ordered to help with this, you didn’t put it past that unscrupulous Lord. The water of the bath was cold this time and you barely did anything more than sit in it, not willing to scrub your skin off for someone who was never pleased. The moment you set foot out from behind that curtain, a few guards were waiting there.

One approached and held out the familiar looking vial, it was filled with the liquid again. “Drink this. Lord Leoric commands it.”

They made sure to watch you drink it, if they hadn’t you would have let at least half of it drip down into your sleeve instead. You even had to shown them, mouth open, that you had indeed swallowed it. There was no chance to spit it out. The foul taste lingered on your tongue for long after they left your ‘fancy’ prison cell again. The tiredness the plant brought upon was not enough to quieten your troubled mind. Poor Percival… was he well? Had they hurt him? Did they even give him food?

You searched that whole space you were trapped in, under the bed and all the furniture, in the hope of finding something useful as a weapon. They had prepared this room well, not a splinter of wood was to be found that could pose as a threat. You kicked one of the chairs, sending it launching into the wall as a frustrated groan freed itself from your lungs. Blocking the door and delaying the next dose of sedation would only put Percival at risk, this castle would be a maze to get through before finding him and precious time would be lost. If you had a weapon, just something small and sharp, you could use it to threaten Lord Leoric with and force him to obey your command.

Your eyes fell on the ceramic jug that held the water to drink and an idea planted itself in your mind. By wrapping the jug in a sheet, you were able to break it without making too much noise. The sharp shards offered an array of improvised weapons and you chose a thin longer piece. The dress offered little ways to hide it. So you tore a small piece of the sheet that you then used to bind the shard around your arm, the sleeve hid it from sight and it was easily accessible this way when it would be needed. Your eyes grew heavy when folding the sheet in a way that would hide it’s ruined stated. Cursing, you crawled into the bed, hating how effective those vials were to keep your strength at a low. You fell asleep seconds after your head touched that pillow, hoping that tomorrow most of that plant would be out of your system.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  Deep into the night, a dream too vivid to be your imagination was drawing you out of sleep. A continues nudging against your shoulder was irritating you, and then you remembered where you were. Your eyes snapped open and as they adjusted to the darkness, the guard sitting on your bed came into view. Not a second later you had rolled out of bed at the other side and grabbed the first thing you could to defend yourself, a small candle holder. That bastard was quick on his feet and you barely had time to give the warning. “Stay away!”

The copper candle holder would do little damage to his head, considering it was well protected by the helmet, it still didn’t stop you from aiming for his head when he got too close. He blocked your arm, you pulled the shard free from where it was hidden in your sleeve and lashed out at him. In the darkness it was hard to see how he moved, how fast he moved. You felt your arm be grabbed and your back forced against the wall. The shard was stolen from your fingers. He gave you no chance to call out for help as he covered your mouth with his hand, and you doubted much help would be given against one of their own. You struggled against his hold violently, trying multiple times to hit him with your knee and foot.

    ~“Little ember, stop!”~

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[runawaymun]

Heads Up Seven Up

I was tagged by @that-angry-noldo to share the last seven lines I wrote in my WIP! Thank you for the summons!

From To Partake:

He had let his anger get the better of him. He realizes that now, like a cold shock to his spine, here in the dark alone. He had overreacted. That is why he is so angry. He is not angry at Elrond, not really. Ereinion is angry with himself.  He does not know how he will be able to stand facing Elrond tomorrow.

And from Beneath a Boundless Sky

He meant to broach the idea to Istiel, so she could put the question to her people. To our people, Elrond fiercely reminded himself.  My people.  Sometimes he wondered if it had been a mistake to refuse to take on any mantle of formal leadership for the remnants of Doriath. He only had not wished to tempt them to name him king — a title Elrond neither wanted nor felt that he deserved — with his Ñoldorin braids and his Fëanorian accent and his ignorance to his own childhood customs. He knew that it was hardly his fault, but there had been plenty of others who were better qualified than he was to lead the Doriathrim. Istiel had been their second choice, and Elrond’s first. 

I think most people have already played by now, but just in case I am tagging @raointean @thesolarangel and @greyjedijaneite and whomever else has not played yet but would like to!

[female-malice]

Gen-Z... read a parenting book challenge

[deliajackson]

When I reread the saga I tought about it too. I mean, I don't believe she is an awful human being. And I don't like HoO for so many reasons regarding relationships. Like Nico - Percy being reduced to "he is not my tipe" proceeds to ignore the entire importance of their relationship; Hazel - Frank - Percy becoming good friends and after MoA they literally barely interact again; Grover literally disappeared from the story too; whatever the hell Rick did with Percy - Annabeth.

Idk what he wanted to do making Sally pregnant during that saga. And I really believe we should have had a better insight of her. And that was something possible to do due Annabeth's POV. We should have seen her being worried. To see Sally having a mental breakdown with the fact her son - that due a miracle survived the war, was now what? Vanished? Kidnapped? Shouldn't Percy be safe now?

But we don't. We see her later being married and pregnant. This is a little bit odd.

I like to think, as a HC that Sally got pregnant before Percy was gone, and only found about it later on, and Paul was a gentleman, or one of these men who thinks like: Pregnancy = Marriage. It helps that he loves Sally. Or turned to love her on the way. And the entire relationships turned out fine.

Regarding Sally keeping Percy, I can see where it comes from. She was an orphan girl, really young, I believe she was what? 19? When she had him. I can see why she wanted to keep the only family she had, specially if she was afraid Percy could become one of the kids who stays the entire year for his own safety - after all, Poseidon DID explain to her why the camp was the better choice. It was implied in the book. And that was the reason Sally chose to marry Gabe instead. To keep Percy "safe" from monsters, while still being able to be by his side. She just forgot the monster she put inside her house could also hurt him as well.

She had full conscience of what she was doing when she chose Gabe. She didn't marry him not expecting him to be abusive. She married him because he stinks, and since the very beginning Percy said Gabe treated them poorly from the very start point of their lives together.

It was selfish. She knows it. She admits it herself. Even Mr. D on camp during the show is not impressed with her decision to keep a demigod child. Because it is an imprudent and mostly important, selfish decision, which only ends with children being slaughtered.

She also could have lived under the sea, in a palace that would be hers. She could have raised Percy well, still be his side, honestly, she would have been more present in his life that way, since she wouldn't need to be on a full-time job. That was also an option. Poseidon offered that to her.

And she said no. For many understandable reasons. I understand that. But if we get to analyze, she made the worst decision regarding Percy's sake and well-being.

The funny thing is that if it wasn't for that, we wouldn't have the Percy we had.

I really believe that if Percy went to camp half-blood way earlier he would join Luke - since I believed Poseidon wouldn't claim him as fast as he did, specially for Percy's own safety.

And if he lived under the sea, why would Percy ever go to camp half blood, out of his father's domain to deal with Gods? - If we push a little we can still make it happen, I believe. But eitherway, it wouldn't be the same. His self steem for example wouldn't be crippled and I don't believe he would be half as depressed as he was.

Side note: I really wanted to know why Rick is so obsessed with making these sagas while they are all teenagers. It passed six months after the war with Kronos. The entire HoO Saga took what again? Six months? And then ToA happens on the same fucking year and lasts *checks notes* also six months.

I didn't read the Kane Chronicles, CoTG, only WoTG - purely out of spite... But I don't believe Percy was mentioned to be 18 or close of 18? I mean? How many days Rick Riordan believes a year have. Let alone a month. Just let them become young adults.

Unpopular Opinion: Sally Jackson wasn’t a good mother to Percy. She chose to keep him in the mortal world with her when she could have sent him to camp and just asked for access to CHB. It was that easy and she didn’t do it.

She not only put him into danger with monsters, but put him in an actively abusive environment. Not just from Gabe, but her, too. Gabe was verbally abusive and she knew that, if you go back and look at the first book, Gabe is verbally attacking Percy and Sally sees and hears it. She’s not even phased.

Also, she worked a job, leaving Percy alone with an adult who physically abused her, knowing that he at least verbally abused her son. If he felt confident abusing her, a grown woman, then he felt comfortable hitting a child who was left alone with him. I don’t understand her lapse in judgment here. It’s not like she made him promise not to touch Percy, and if she did, then she’s a fool to take a man like Gabe’s or just anyone’s word for it.

She also knew that it was extremely likely that Percy would have ADHD and dyslexia because of him being a demigod and she still chose to make him go to schools in the mortal world, schools who wouldn’t be able to accommodate for him as CHB would be able to. She had to have known that it would be hard for him in the mortal would with his learning disabilities and that he would likely be bullied and discriminated against and yet, she chose not to raise him in a healthy environment where he would learn how to cope with his disabilities in a way that has been finely tuned to kids in his exact situation, but rather to make him go through all the bad things that happen to kids with ADHD and dyslexia.

She manipulated him (telling him that CHB would take him away from her) and bribed him (the coming home with candy after leaving him with Gabe) and gaslit and lied to him (the whole beginning of the TLT) for years and didn’t feel bad about it, assured that somehow, an unstable home with people who don’t want the best for him, but rather themselves and a hostile school environment was better for him than CHB. You know, just the place where demigods are supposed to thrive, where everything is made specifically with demigods in mind.

Sally knew that Percy was the son of Poseidon and was therefore more at risk than most other demigods, she most likely knew about the oath because I see no reason that Poseidon wouldn’t tell her, and yet, she still kept him with her in a toxic home and toxic schools, putting him in danger with monsters (the Gabe plan wasn’t infallible and she hadn’t even tried to do anything or asked Poseidon to supply her with anything until years after Percy was born and therefore already in danger) and subjecting him to all the horrors that come with a bad home life and just the mortal world in general, especially the mortal world of New York City where I used to partially live. And, New York being the place where both camp and Olympus were located had to have meant that there were more monsters there than anywhere else, except maybe San Francisco and Alaska, which just upped the danger for Percy, strong smelling Big Three child,

She didn’t even stop to think that maybe the life she was giving him was better than any life CHB could give him? If he went to CHB, he’d learn how to survive in a world that is actively trying to kill him, he’d learn how not to piss off the gods, he’d be more prepared for the Great Prophecy, he’d grow up knowing that there were people just like him who understood him and would help him. He’s grow up in a safe, nurturing environment that prepared him for the real world outside of the borders, maybe even be assigned a quest and learn what they’re like before being thrown into stopping WWIII.

And if she kept him with her not because she thought she’d give him a better life than camp would, then it would be because of her own selfish and completely irrational reasons. Poseidon told her that Percy should be sent to camp and she was so blinded with her selfishness, her own wants and desires, that she didn’t stop to think that maybe a god who’s had countless other children just like Percy for millennia, that maybe a literal god who is a king and thousand of years old might be right? That he wouldn’t know what would be the best for their child? But she kept Percy with her. Despite everything, she kept him with her, using the excuse that camp would take him away from her. As if mortals can’t be taken into camp as long as they have permission—permission that is granted through like ten words.

I just sincerely don’t understand. You can say that Gabe would stop her from taking Percy to camp, that he had them trapped. She trapped herself, and by extension, Percy, into the marriage and she could have run away at any point to CHB. Do you really think Chiron would have turned her away? That Gabe would have found her in a magically warded camp for the children of gods, one of which she had herself? She was the one who decided that marrying him would be better than sending Percy to CHB when he had already been born. When he encountered his first monster, when Gabe had shown himself to be an abusive person, she should have gone to camp so both Poseidon and her could keep an eye on him in a safe, stable as can be environment.

Now listen, I have a lot of empathy for people in abusive relationships, I’ve been in one myself and I know what it can do to you, how the signs can be missed until it’s too late. But Sally did not choose Gabe because he had manipulated her or because she had fallen in love with him, no. She chose him because he smelled bad. She chose a completely random human to marry and thought that it wouldn’t backfire on her or her son, the person she was allegedly doing it for.

I don’t understand her thought process on this. What could she possibly have thought of camp, of her whole situation that made her make the choices she made? Because I just can’t see it.

The books have shown that Sally can be a good mother to Estelle, to Nico, but the only person she seems incapable of being a good mother to is Percy.

I can see it being a part of the future that Percy and Sally have a falling out of sorts. Estelle is a fully mortal child with a loving father and a loving mother. It would be interesting to see Percy realising that his childhood could have been better, watching Estelle grow up in a healthy environment that his mother actively kept him from.

Paul is cool and all, I don’t really fault him for much other than him rushing his relationship with Sally, whose last marriage was abusive and by association, Percy who is a victim of abuse and very clearly also dealing with other trauma. I do, however, fault Sally for pursuing a relationship like that with a man only two years after she and her son were subjected to abuse by a man in the same exact position. Why would she choose to bring another stepfather into Percy’s life when she knew the other one was at least verbally abusive and when he was in the middle of a freaking war. He didn’t really have the time or the ideal circumstances (to put it lightly) to have to deal with Gabe trauma rearing it’s ugly head when another man walks into her life. She never even really fully discussed it with him? Like it’s never shown in the books that she and Percy had a conversation about Gabe and about Paul, a full, in-depth conversation about their troubles, about what it would mean, and whether or not they should be doing that with a mortal when Percy is a demigod—a demigod from the Big Three who is the centre of a world ending prophecy and the leader of a demigod war with the Titan king, no less. They never sit down and talk with Paul about it, either.

I really don’t mean for this to be a victim blame-y post or anything, but I think that Sally just made some wrong choices and she suffered for them. I blame her for that, for the harm it caused Percy and the fact that she didn’t even wait or examine Gabe to see if he would be a bad person or not. And you can’t tell me that the gods or demigods haven’t found a way for half-bloods’ scents not to be found yet, after thousands of years other than forcing a child into a home with an abusive man. It just doesn’t make sense. There were better options, some of which I already listed.

Not much of what Sally says or does really makes me think she’s a good mother—or even an average one even though the fandom tried really hard to make people think she’s the perfect mom. She does a lot of harmful things and gets away with them because she what? Talks nicely when her words aren’t full of manipulation? When she isn’t lying to her son and leaving him in the dark—something that could literally kill him? Acts nice when she isn’t absent and leaving her son with and abusive man? When she isn’t bribing Percy as a half-assed apology when she does?

I see it a lot in the fandom, fanfic especially where Sally is this perfect mother and perfect person as if she didn’t screw up all the time. As if she and her selfishness and her lack of thinking didn’t traumatise Percy and leave him an abusive home and school environment. People talk so much about her being the perfect mother, her being the ideal when she really isn’t. Yes, she is a victim, but she’s a victim who dragged a child down with her and a victim who didn’t even think of saving herself or her son. And I despise people who don’t try to save themselves, people who don’t think, and people who drag others down with them. Sally Jackson is all three.

TL,DR: Sally made a lot of selfish or straight up stupid parenting choices that blew back on Percy and the fandom needs to hold her more accountable instead of glorifying her and ignoring all of her flaws.

[imperpetuallylost]

ok i can now see in more detail what the good omens extra credit assignment is for my sci fi and fantasy class AND ITS TO WRITE A PAPER COMPARING THE SHOW TO THE BOOK I WAS MADE FOR THIS

[ryuutchi]

sometimes I forget that I’m more fond of the book characterizations than most of kpts fandom

[gothamite-rambler]

Flashback: Jason Todd when he discovered one of the trainers the Al Ghul's got for him was a child trafficker

*based off a story from the book

Jason (shocked): They… were just children.

His trainer (indifferent): Don't be so dramatic; it was necessary.

Jason (seething with rage): They were just children… and you were trafficking them.

His trainer (indignant): I did what was necessary—

Jason (raising his voice, gripping a knife): THEY WERE JUST CHILDREN, AND YOU TRAFFICKED THEM!

-----------------------------------

Jason (finishing the story): And then I murdered him in cold blood. It was fun… I think I felt true euphoria that day. Oh, and I let the kids go.

Bruce (too stunned and upset to speak): …

Dick (whispering, impressed): Resist the urge to clap.

Tim (horrified): Holy crap, did you have to detail it like that?

Jason: It's not a good story if I leave out the important parts. Like the time I recounted how I beat you up and won, I had to include the part where I stabbed your hand.

Tim (exasperated): You didn't have to and you didn’t win that! You cuffed me to a chimney at the last minute and ran off! I forgive you though, but I won that fight!

Jason (coolly): Seems like a win on my side to me. Anyway, Ra's kept assigning me trainers who were pedophiles, murderers, drug dealer; people I wouldn't let a child around. They all kept rationalizing their crimes, and somehow they kept running into my knife, or getting in the path of my gun, or “accidentally” falling off a bridge. That’s all I’ll say about that.

Tim rolled his eyes, relieved that Jason hadn’t explicitly detailed those killings. Damian and Stephanie, however, had the opposite reaction and stood up, applauding.

Cass (with a blank expression): Jason?

Jason (worried): Yes?

Cass (nodding approvingly): I’ll allow it.

Jason (smiling): Thanks!

Duke: Can somebody pass the cranberry sauce? Also, can I go next? I can top Jason's story! Let’s just say I didn’t buy that katana; nah, I earned that!

Bruce sighed, covering his eyes in frustration.

Bruce: This is the weirdest fucking Thanksgiving, but at least it hasn't gotten worse—

Alfred (making it worse): Talia and Ra's are here.

Damian (pleasantly surprised): Oh, they actually showed up!

Bruce slammed his head on the table.

Dick: That means "God… Damn it!"

[reyalvr]

SHE’S MINE | 00

CATCH ME, I’VE FALLEN IN LOVE FOR THE FIRST TIME.

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers.

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, mild angst, chaotic fluff, smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan, RUMORS isn’t related to anything that happens in this series

word count ┊ 798

author’s note ┊ YAY i finally wrote it! i really love the fake dating/marriage convenience trope and i’ve been itching to write it with kenji. this is highly inspired by one my favorite books of all time, terms & conditions by lauren asher! if you enjoy fake dating i highly recommend reading it. as mentioned at the top, this is only the prologue! i'll be putting out part one and the series masterlist asap hehe... as always, happy reading!

prev. | next

SOMETIMES YOU WONDERED IF ANYTHING YOU SAID EVER STUCK WITH KEN. For the past year and a half, you had the supposed “dream life” that every assistant yearned for. It confused you, really, as you tried to ponder on what part of your job was envious. Were the late nights drafting NDA breaches so desirable? What about the press statements after altercations, were those résumé worthy? You let out a deep sigh as you watched Ken from the TV in his dressing room, crossing your arms as you sunk deeper into the couch.

He was on a press tour for his latest collaboration, his overconfident persona charming everyone left and right. You had to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes when he used his signature flair to charm the show’s host. At least he was sticking to the script… for the most part. He wore the product, threw in a few adlibs, and of course, flirted. Be it a talk show host or a random photographer on the street, Ken always found a way to leave people smitten with him- save except you. 

It’s not like you were actively trying to hate him, he just made it so easy. At first you thought it was just some awkward phase, like he was just trying to adjust to working with a new team. But then he just kept doing the same things over and over again. A brawl with an opposing team member? Just another Sunday night. A rumor about having a fling with yet another supermodel? Sounds just about right. 

“I mean of course I have to thank my team,” Ken’s voice cut through your train of thought. “It was a dream of mine to play for the Giants as a kid, now I actually get to do it.”

Tone it down, asshole. You thought to yourself, noting the sarcasm laced in his words. Of course the general public wouldn’t have caught on, but you had no doubt his coach and the other players would. Then again, he’d been relatively untouchable because of his rank in the sports world. You poked your tongue into your cheek, shaking your head as you sat through the rest of his interview. The clock on the wall counted down the remaining time, the bright red numbers casting a reflection on the screen. Two minutes left, and all he had to do was to keep the act up…

…Until he didn’t. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what was about to happen next. 

“Now I don’t want to hold here any longer, but you know I have to ask it,” The host teased, almost like an overexcited child ready to tattle. “Any special someone back home?” 

Ken chuckled, just like he usually did when asked the question. “Cheeky question,” He paused and grinned, his eyebrow raised slightly as he shrugged his shoulders. “What if there was?” 

“Well, is there?” The host pushed, his tone eager to have the Ken Sato answer such a juicy question. He gestured toward the crowd before he continued. “I mean there are a lot of fans here today who would love to know more…” 

“Yeah? And if I said yes, then what?” He replied, his smile growing brighter and his eyes shining. 

The crowd cheered even harder, itching to find out the truth. You shared the same sentiments, trying to figure out what the hell Ken was up to now. Did he have a girlfriend? If he did, why didn’t anyone know about it? You stood up straight now, your right hand deathly gripping the remote. What the hell do you have up your sleeve, Kenji Sato? Your inner voice seemed to yell as you waited for him to speak up. 

“I mean only time will tell, yeah?” The host replied, leaning back in his seat. “C’mon Ken, it’s not nice to keep secrets.”

Ken mimicked the host’s moves, leaning back into his sofa chair as well. He shrugged his shoulders, licking his lips as he fiddled with his fingers. He bit the inside of his cheek, and though it was brief you caught it. You knew that look; his look of contemplation. Your grip on the remote was still taut as your breathing seemed to quicken the longer he waited. Granted it was only a few seconds, but those seconds felt like hours. 

He tilted his head slightly then, his eyes staring directly at the camera. It slowly zoomed closer to focus entirely on him, and he let out a small laugh before he finally replied. His gaze was strong, and it almost felt like he was actually looking at you.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” He finally said, throwing in a lovesick smile for good measure. “And she’s the best damn thing in my life right now.”

reyalvr © 2024 … do not repost, alter, or steal my work.

[kaijuno]

My dad knows he fucked up as a dad. He knows he didn’t do it right, he knows he showed anger when he should have showed compassion. And he regrets the way he raised me. He has admitted to me, once I was an adult, that his biggest regret is that he fucked up raising me. That was big. He never apologizes, never admits he was wrong. But he did that day.

Our relationship is strained, only texting every few months to make sure he’s still alive (I am his only child, and he lives alone. I’m all he has). We’re on decent terms now though. I had previously cut him out of my life for a few years.

While he was a bad father, I will say that he is a good man. He has integrity. He’s honest. He made sure I had food and shelter during times where he had to go without.

And I know that he beats himself up over it. He’s ashamed of himself and his actions.

So for his birthday I got him this book

And for the first time in my entire life I saw him cry

[pellucid-constellations]

By the Book

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel is struggling to catch the attention of his mate. Cassian offers him some advice, but "putting the moves on you" is harder than it seems, especially since he's not a character in one of Nesta's novels.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Nothing much, just fluff and Azriel panicking <3

a/n: Enjoyyy :) And let me know what you think pleaseee!

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

“Maybe you should try something different.” 

“Something different?” 

“Yeah,” Cassian shrugged, kicking back in his chair. “Put some moves on her, give her eyes—something interesting to gain her attention.”

“I’m not just trying to gain her attention, Cassian,” Azriel grimaced. “I—” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m not an idiot. I see how you look at her. But you don’t want to scare her, you know?” 

Azriel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You think I scare her?” 

“No, no,” Cassian assured, lazily waving his hand in the shadowsinger’s direction. “But y/n’s new. She’s still got all the nerves of working for a high lord and being in court. And she’s kind of—well, you know.” 

Azriel raised a brow, remaining silent in lieu of further questions. Cassian gave him a look, one Azriel did not replicate, and then sighed dramatically. 

“Az, come on. She’s new and she’s young. She’s all innocent and skittish. If you drop all of your big feelings on her she could run for the hills.” 

“She’s not that young,” Azriel refuted, face now pressed in confusion and contemplation.

“Young enough to be shocked by a mating bond so early in her life.” 

Cassian’s words left a blanket of silence over the room. The fireplace crackled, the chair beneath Azriel groaned, and shadows wisped around bookshelves and walls. 

“Is it obvious?”

“No,” Cassian shook his head, straightening his lax posture. “I was honestly just confirming a hunch. But now that I know…” 

“What should I do?” Azriel stressed. 

“Let me tell you a few things I’ve learned from Nesta’s interesting choice in literature.” 

~~

Azriel had waited all day for you to show up at the townhouse. Radiating nervous energy only visible in the way he continuously shook out his hands, the spymaster was armed with an arsenal of tactics Cassian swore by and a vigorous motivation. 

Part of him had been wary of the “smooth moves” the general had shared, but another part took his brother’s warnings to heart. He didn’t want to scare you off and you were rather young. Not a child by any means, but if Azriel had found his mate within his first hundred years, he probably would have panicked. 

And you were just reaching a centennial.

Gods, and Rhysand had only just hired you a few months ago. 

Before Azriel could spiral and abandon his possibly catastrophic plans, you walked in. 

Arm and arm with Feyre, you breezed through the front door with a canvas in hand and a laugh still fresh on your lips. Azriel wasn’t sure if it was the mating bond or just you that caused his chest to ache. 

When you caught his eye, a bright smile plastering onto your face, Azriel deduced that it was just you. 

“Hi, Az,” you called, unwinding yourself from Feyre and stepping close enough for Azriel to scent the paint mixing in with the sweet smell of your perfumes. “I stopped by Feyre’s studio after work. I painted the Sidra but it looks… well, just look at it.” 

Azriel trailed his gaze down to the painting, but much of him was still lost in the giggle that followed your words. The “Sidra” was more of a collection of uneven lines and dots meant to be clouds, but Azriel found himself offering a few gentle compliments despite it all. 

You tugged the painting down to your side with a disbelieving scoff, quirking a brow at the shadowsinger. “Do you make it a habit to lie to me, Az?” 

There was paint on your cheek—just a small splotch, but enough to grab his attention. 

“If she has something on her face, you reach up and get it for her. But you have to get real close and grab her face. And look into her eyes—yeah that part was important.”

Azriel’s wings rustled in anticipation at the opportunity, but he pulled them in tightly and hoped you missed the tell. The shadowsinger took a small step forward and tucked his fingers behind your ear, letting his palm press against your jaw and his thumb swipe along the paint by your nose. 

One, two passes and the pigment was gone, but he hadn’t looked into your eyes yet and Cassian said that was key. 

Hazel eyes shot up to meet your wide, unblinking gaze. Azriel held his hand against your skin for another moment, relishing in the feel of you as your mouth parted to take in a sharp breath. That sharp inhale was followed by a shaky exhale, and Azriel decided that was a good cue to release his hold. 

And although his mind was running rampant with a slew of emotions and panicked thoughts, he took a step back and looked at his thumb nonchalantly. 

“There was paint on your cheek,” he stated, because Cassian also said he needed to act stoic. 

Azriel already considered himself stoic, but that was before he had held your face in his hands. 

At some point, the painting in your hands had fallen to the tips of your fingertips, the canvas just barely hanging from your grip. You licked your lips and stuttered out a few incoherent utterances before landing on, “Oh, thank you.” 

Azriel nodded, and a beat passed with only the whisper of shadows and the shallow intake of breath. 

Until a throat was cleared behind you, and Azriel distinctly remembered that you had not walked in alone. Avoiding his high lady’s knowing gaze, Azriel jutted his hand out to a random wall in the townhouse. 

“Should we hang it up?” 

~~

You were leaning against a wall in the House of Wind, forgotten drink in hand, gazing around the room with a content gleam in your eye. Rhysand had these parties every once in a while, but this was your first time attending one. The soft way you looked at his family—at Nyx and the stubborn way he escaped his parents—made Azriel’s throat tighten. 

You were part of that family now too, whether you knew it or not. 

You were part of him—a piece of his being just steps away. 

“You put your arm above her head and talk low. If you’re feeling adventurous, a hand on her waist.” 

Right. Cassian said not to scare you. 

Revealing his undying love for you would most likely scare you. 

Azriel abandoned his drink on a platter and closed the space between you. 

Arm above your head. 

Talk low. 

A hand on your waist? Maybe. 

This was ridiculous. Azriel knew how to talk to women. He had spoken to plenty of women and they had been more than happy to oblige him. Azriel knew he was attractive and was considering throwing this whole plan away, but then you looked up at him and he found himself placing his arm above your head anyway. 

Mother save him. 

He pressed in close, his forearm just inches from your head as he gave you a soft smile. “Hello,” he greeted, sure to keep his words low.

You wrapped your drink in towards your chest and smiled back, lashes fluttering as the shadowsinger held your gaze. 

“Hi, Azriel,” you smiled back. 

Shit, what was he supposed to do now? 

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, only because you were so pretty and the bond within him was glowing with so much warmth that he could think of nothing else to say. 

You hummed. “It’s rather lively. It’s nice that Rhys invites so many of his people. I really do love this court.” 

I love you. 

No, he couldn’t say that. 

“I’m glad you approve.”

Stoic. Perfect. 

A gentle conversation flowed between you. Azriel hung his head low as he discussed past parties and strangers and restaurants along common streets, and you angled your chin up so the words spoken were just breaths away. Azriel did not move from his position and you did not escape further into the wall. 

“Do these go all night?” you asked, breaking eye contact for one of the first times since Azriel’s arrival. 

He looked over his shoulder to follow your gaze. “Sometimes. With Nyx around, maybe not tonight.” 

You took a sip of your drink. 

Azriel turned back around. 

The pull to you was inescapable. He glanced down at your waist, the way you had turned to your side to look at him directly, and then he reached out. 

His hand fit perfectly, shadows sliding out to wrap around your body. Azriel took the time to watch how his fingers pressed up to your ribs, and then, in an act much bolder than he felt, he tugged you forward and lowered his mouth to your ear. 

“Are you tired?” he asked. 

You had placed your hands on his chest during his unexpected motion, your fingers tight against his shirt. “A little,” you breathily replied. 

He could feel the warmth of your skin against his lips. Just a small turn of his head and he would taste it as well. His heart thumped painfully in his chest. 

No, Cassian had said—

“Azriel?” Your call threw him out of his thoughts. Pulling back, he met your eye. “Are you tired, too? I think I might turn in early.” 

Were you asking him to follow you? 

He would follow you anywhere. For anything. 

But if he were overstepping… 

“Would you like me to walk you back to your room? Or fly you back to your apartment?” 

You took a step back, Azriel’s hand slipping from your body. 

A piece of him melted away at the loss. 

You bit back what looked to be a smirk. “I got it. I’ll see you tomorrow, Az?” 

He watched you walk away from him, silently cursing Cassian. 

This had to have been his fault somehow. 

~~

The next opportunity Azriel got was accompanied by a flurry of concern. 

He had come to walk you home from the clinic after a long day with Majda, his shadows informing him that you were tired, overworked, exhausted. When he opened the door to your disheveled figure slumped over a counter, the bond within him sent him rushing to you. Or perhaps it was just an intrinsic drive—just the love he held for you.  

“The hair is a big one. Tuck it back behind her ear. The males in Nesta’s books always go for that one.” 

To be honest, Azriel wanted to do much more than tuck your hair behind your ear. He wanted to wrap you in his arms and fly you home and tuck you into bed. But Cassian had warned him against grand acts, so the shadowsinger accepted your tired smile with a soft one of his own. 

“A bad day?” he softly asked, tilting his head to the side and leaning over the counter. 

His hands fell just a small breadth from yours. 

You sighed in agreeance, forehead meeting the wood between you before turning back up to the male. “Come to laugh at me?” 

Your hair had fallen into your face. 

“Never,” Azriel whispered. “I’ve come to walk you home.” 

“Hmm, always walking me somewhere, aren’t you?” 

A confused smile graced the shadowsinger’s face, and then he took his brother’s advice and brushed fingers against your temple, sweeping your hair from your eyes. His touch ran down the slope of your ear, your lashes fluttering at the texture of his skin. Azriel gave into temptation and traced a line down your jaw as well, taking advantage of the tire that seemed to overcome you as you leaned into his touch. 

Cassian’s tips seemed to work so much better when the two of you were alone. 

But not too well, Azriel reminded himself, the male beginning to pull his hand from your face. 

You caught his wrist in your unsteady hand. 

“When are you going to tell me?” you accused, a slight squint in your eye. “I really do appreciate all of the stops you’re pulling out, but I’m wondering when you’ll stop walking me home and start being honest.” 

Azriel’s mouth parted in shock. “What do you—” 

“The hand on my waist was a good touch, I will say. I didn’t think you’d go that far. Especially not after you forgot to kiss me and instead offered to hang up my gods-awful painting.”

Azriel felt his face begin to heat. There was no way you had picked up on his flirting so quickly. But, Azriel thought in mortification, he had been stiff, paused too many times trying to remember Cassian’s words. Maybe he had been obvious. 

Oh, Gods. 

“Azriel,” you called. A soft call accompanied by a slight tilt of your head. He looked at you despite himself, lost in the haze you created in his mind. “Are you going to tell me now?” 

Cassian had been wrong, clearly, because the way you looked at him was so sure. You held his hand against your face and a tired smile still lit up your features and you didn’t look scared at all. 

And then the bond within him moved. 

A tug. 

And then another 

You had known all along. 

“You’re my mate.” He stumbled over the words, each falling from his mouth with haste. “My mate.” 

“I am,” you whispered, turning his hand on your cheek to press a kiss to his palm. “And you are mine.” 

“I’m going to kill Cassian,” Azriel mumbled under his breath, but the sound was lost between breaths as you surged forward to kiss him.

And Gods, did he kiss you back. He kissed you and kissed you and forgot every bit of advice from Nesta’s books, because he didn’t need it. All he needed was you and every iteration of the future that was now promised between lips. 

He should have known better than to ask for advice. 

You were his mate. 

He didn’t need sly moves to win you over. 

He didn’t need anything. Just you.

[cabeswaterdrowned]

people are…. People are not saying the show character assassinated Graham afjf

[thowawayuntilfurthernotice]

Rick and Morty is one of Adult Swim’s most popular shows, Spencer Grammer voices one of the major supporting characters on that show (Summer Smith), yet she wasn’t making enough money to qualify for SAG AFTRA’s health insurance during the first year of her child’s life.

This shit isn’t just cruel, it’s downright evil.

I know dipshits are gonna say “But these voice actors are making 15 grand, they have no right to complain!”

And to that I say, you try raising a child on a 15 grand budget with no health insurance.

The reason why you see so many voice actors saying that they would love to work on The Simpsons or Family Guy isn’t because those shows are still in their prime, it’s because they pay insanely well.

Jenny Yokobori has made more money voicing Comic Book Guy’s wife and doing additional voices on The Simpsons than she has voicing any other character.

Chris Edgerly managed to buy a house thanks to providing additional voices on The Simpsons.

I know it’s easy to think that voice actors are making large sums of money due to the amount of projects that they’re worked on, but that simply isn’t the case.

Hell, some voice actors can’t even afford to live in LA because it’s so expensive, so they end up living in Las Vegas or Arizona because it’s much cheaper, and they can just drive to LA if they have to record something in studio.

[ew-selfish-art]

DCxDP AU: Danny and Damian are actually twins but were never raised together- Talia would divide her time between bases, spending time with them separately (but spending more time with Damian). Jason technically only met Danny in his time with the LoA.

It still a very tenuous truce that Jason has with his family when he finally joins them for breakfast after a late night of busting a drug ring. And sue him, he's never cared to look at the little one that closely when he's not pointing a knife in his direction. But then the little Bat Brat turned his face towards the ray of light streaming into the family room of the Manor and Jason caught a closer look to the… green color. Huh.

“Hey demon, when you died did you come back with those green eyes?” Jason calls out, and perhaps it’s a little antagonistic but something deeply unsettles the crime lord about this.

“Tt. I’ve always had green eyes Todd. Your observation skills remain dulled-“ Damian begins to berate him but Jason’s scowl deepens and he interrupts.

“No, they were definitely Bruce’s color blue when I met you with Talia- I punched your lights out because of it remember?” Jason supplies, looking perturbed and having a small child look equally perturbed back at him.

“You never met me in Nanda Parbat. And mother would have never allowed you to attack above your station and live.”

“Kid I literally have the scars from my punishment. My memory from that time after the pit might not be great or even good but I know, I know I punched your lights out.”

“No doubt you have been fooled by a clone then-“ Damian says but he looks upset.

“Talia called you Dami then, you’ve never let us call you that.” Jason supplies further, he was certain that Talia had introduced him as her son.

“I was never called such an informal name.” But Damian looks disturbed more than he looks like he wants to fight.

Eventually, after combing through their collective memory of Talia's where abouts and Damian's lack of interaction with Todd, it’s decided that they have to talk to Drake who was there the most recently. Neither wants to add the fact that he's also the most knowledgeable family member when it comes to the LoA now.

“Huh? Yeah, it looks like Talia kept ledgers dividing her time between two places- the journal reads like there is Dami as Damian but… maybe it’s Dami AND Damian…” Tim reviews the books he robbed them of with a fine tooth comb and suddenly this pattern of using the “nickname” and the “full name” start to show a “first child” and a “second child”.

Damian was clearly the favorite. The ‘Dami’ kid was sent away on a suicide mission pretty early in their lives, he would have left right after Todd did at the age of 8-ish. They all groaned at the cold trail following this assignment he failed to return from- it meant that they had to involve Bruce with a DNA search of the local areas the kid had been sent to across the globe. One of which, weirdly enough, was in Illinois.

…

“My name isn’t Daniel” Danny sighs at yet another event the Mansons brought him to with Vlad looking over his shoulder every five minutes.

Then the weird skinny kid who’s the big talk of the town approaches him with some guy built like a tank and says: “It’s Damian, isn’t it?”

Danny literally sinks through the floors, but in his attempts to run out the back door he’s stopped- By a guy that has Danny's own face and a very sharp looking knife pressed to Danny's throat.

In short- Danny introduced himself to the Fentons as “Dami” but they misheard him and called him Danny and fuck it, it’s close enough.

Now it turns out that their mother only planned on one surviving the artificial womb and gave them very different amounts of her time- so she just gave them the same name and reported it like she only had one child.

[timmydraker]

Thinking about Vampire Tim AU and him saving Bruce via turning.

None of the Drakes are actually Vampires, at least not permanently. It was a very strange instance that occurred out of pure chance and coincidence.

A pregnant Janet Drake in a foreign country having a run in with a starving vampire rouge that bite her just a few days before she gave birth.

Instead of the curse spreading to her, the labour of her child pushed and the spreading of lifeform spread to her baby as it was born. The child looked healthy, had no inhuman features, and they assumed her being so sick was simply the fact she was about to give birth.

Tim doesn’t realise what he is for a while purely because his parents are vegan and, until he was seven and had some beef from a classmates lunch, hadn’t had any blood enter his mouth.

Having to teach himself everything, Tim learned to manage both his hunger and abilities as quickly as he could. He studied history and mythos and did several test to figure out the limits to what he needed and could do.

He learnt that he could heal via blood, that he could go without air for days, and that his hearing was normal though his sense of smell was enough to distinguish blood types.

He learn that he could go two weeks without blood before it became a problem, but if he pushed it past three weeks he would start to experience literally decay.

Tim disconcerted his saving grace was that the hunger wasn’t as uncontrollable as people made it out to be in movies and books. At most, it was just like normal human hunger or thirst, and he was aware there was a huge variable in him being raised rather poorly.

He keeps it hidden for years, but then when he’s nineteen Bruce dies.

Not Batman, Bruce.

They got in a car crash of all things, the other drive running after they drove them off the road on the extremely rare instance that Alfred wasn’t driving.

Tim watched the tree branch in his foster father’s chest for several minutes as he thought about his options. Bruce was dead upon impact, gone with only the last wisps of life hanging to him.

Bruce was a father.

Batman was needed.

Even though it would out what he was, Tim forced his several sharp teeth out, all needle sharp and long enough his jaw had to unhinge slightly, and bit into his own wrist. The fangs, an inch long each, dug into his skin painfully before moving to dig into each of Bruce’s wrist and then finally his neck.

Tim smeared the blood into all three wounds and then squeezed as much as he could into Bruce’s mouth.

He had no idea how he knew what to do, trusting the instinct the curse seemed to just… give him.

When Bruce begins to breath again, Clark finally shows up. It’s been a total of eleven minutes and Tim only realises that the other took so long because he had been off planet, yet he is grateful because if he had been there…

Tim instructs Clark on how to cover up the scene, removing the cars and getting Bruce to the cave.

Dick is freaking out, worrying over his brothers ripped clothes and Bruce’s clear injuries, but Tim is quiet.

He takes Bruce’s medical cot and leads them both into a containment cell and then seals it, implementing his own lock as well as one of Bruce’s so no one can open it. He can hear someone banging on the glass a few times but he ignores it to stand over his father’s side and wait for him to wake up.

Naturally, when the older man does he’s panicked and screening Tim’s name.

Tim smiles at him sadly before taking hold of his hand, which Bruce immediately process as wrong.

“Why aren’t I dead?”

Smile growing sadder before fading to an almost formal look, Tim squeezed his hand before pulling away.

“I know you’ve had your suspicions and I thank you for trusting me regardless, but you are right. I’m not human Bruce, and now… you aren’t either.”

He lets the worlds settle for just a moment before continuing, knowing the other will want all the information he can. They’re both so similar in that way.

“I was born a vampire, I will always be a vampire. I will explain that all to you soon, but what you need to know is this: you do not need to drink human blood, you will not loose control over your thirst if you allow me to train you, and yes I had no choice. Gotham needs Batman and I-… I need my father. I will not apologise for my selfishness, but I am sorry you have to be like me.”

Bruce is quiet but he doesn’t move to kick Tim out, nor does he shout at him or cry in betrayal.

He’s surprised, but not more than Tim had ever seen before.

It’s almost an hour of silence between them before Bruce speaks again, “You… you are actually nineteen?”

Tim scoffs and Bruce glares, which makes Tim smile more, “I am. My body will age until around twenty five, at least that’s my hypothesis. If you are turned you stay the age you were, but I was born.”

Bruce nods and after a moment reaches out for his son’s hand.

Another silence before he squeezes it, “Have you told the others about… this change?”

Tim winces, “I tried to keep us separated because I knew you would worry for hurting someone, but I knew Damian would break in if he couldn’t listen so…”

“Ah. Understood.”

Then, in another rare instance that Tim thought he wouldn’t see for at least another few years, Bruce opens his arms to him for a hug.

Naturally, Tim crumbles into his father’s arms and sobs louder than a war drum.

Bruce kisses his head and holds him tight, a vampire embrace.

[nariism]

Could you write Neuvillette blushes so bad when reader called him an otter.

a/n: hi anon! this is cute... yeah guys this is the obligatory neuvillette otter fic on my blog now, enjoy it ●ᴥ●

He shouldn't be feeling jealous. He knows how ridiculous it is to be envious of such a tiny critter, especially one that's been seeking equal amounts of attention from both you and him.

But he can't help it.

"Look!" You hold the otter up into the air, dangling it around in front of his face. The otter trills, curling up into a ball and giving Neuvillette what he can only imagine is the equivalent of puppy-dog eyes.

"Are you sure it is safe to pick it up like that?" Neuvillette murmurs, watching as you peer around the creature with a wide smile.

You're completely ignoring his concerns about scooping up a wild animal, unable to contain your excitement from finally having a chance to grab one of them. "It looks just like you. How cute!"

And he also knows that such a passing comment meant to tease him shouldn't make heat crawl up his neck, but it does anyways.

"How in the world does it look like me?"

Your fingers scratch at the top of the otter's head and it's horrible that all he can imagine is your hands doing the same to him.

You turn the critter around in the air like you're showing off your child, to which the man can only stare in confusion. "White fur, cute face. Even has blue streaks, like your horns!"

"I don't see it." (Correction, he refuses to see it.)

The otter makes another noise and licks his nose, clearly content with being the center of attention. He only scowls, cheeks flushing when he realizes how much you adore the damned thing.

"So adorable," you grin, cradling it in your arms. "Just- just...! So cute!"

He's pretty sure you're malfunctioning with the overload of cuteness. He fares no better, brain melting with every hard-struck realization that you might be calling him cute by extension since you're so insistent about the similarities.

"It..." he clears his throat, losing composure with the second-hand praises. "I suppose."

"You suppose?" You laugh, finally turning your eyes back to him. He almost melts into a puddle right then and there. "You're not jealous, are you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he immediately refutes, rosy all the way to the tips of his ears.

"Jealous," you insist with a smile, setting the otter back down into the water. It leaves a shell as a parting gift and disappears into the sea.

"I am not jealous." Neuvillette bends down to pick up the shell, unceremoniously shoving it into your hands. You know you've got him then, with his sudden lack of manners.

The Iudex can't be jealous. Especially not over something so silly. But his face is a mortifying shade of pink, both at your passive comments about his similarities to such an adorable creature and your accusations of envy.

Your free hand suddenly lurches forward and grabs him by the face, effectively holding him in place while he falls apart. There's a pretty softness in your expression as you look at him.

"Cute," you tease, and he's melting all over again.

(Neuvillette flops down on the couch that night, face down in your lap. You raise a brow, setting your book down to peer at him curiously.

He's unmoving for a pause, completely still to the point where you wonder if he just instantly fell asleep. But then he shuffles, turning onto his back to look up at you.

Ah, there it is. Something akin to puppy-dog eyes underneath his stone cold expression.

Your fingers scratch gently at his scalp as you continue to read, combing through his long hair. "Knew it," you muse with a smug expression.

He grumbles with red cheeks.)

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.