#i love and hate to draw my children. why are there six of you my HANDS

[flowersandskeletons526]

"Get Your Colors" - Warriors Concept Album fanfic

Woe! Fox and Rembrandt angst be upon ye!

Used this as my mind break from "Put Your Gloves Up" and now I'll get back to it. Part six of that will be out soon. Until then, enjoy!

Based on @alexihollis's post

----------

“I don’t get it,” said Fox as she leaned over Rembrandt’s shoulder.

Rembrandt paused, looking between the two oil pastel colors she held in her hands. “Don’t get what?” she asked.

“Why don’t you just get the sets?” Fox picked up a beginner’s box of pastels, a rainbow of simple colors, the ones children got when they were first learning to use them. Rembrandt, however, was not first learning to use them and did not need a kit. “Isn’t that cheaper? And you get all the colors.”

“They don’t have the colors I need.”

Fox grabbed a bigger box. “What about this one?”

“That one has too many colors. And it’s too expensive. Besides, I already have some of the colors I want so I’d rather just pick out the ones I don’t have by myself. I’m not paying for something I have at home.” 

“But how do you know what colors you need?”

“I have a plan.”

“But-”

“Fox, do you trust that I know what I’m doing or not?”

“I know you know what you’re doing!” Fox huffed. “I’m just curious. Wait, why do you need four different greens?”

“Because the project I’m working on is a collection of monochromes.”

“What’s a monochrome?”

Rembrandt sighed. She loved Fox, truly, but when the younger girl asked if she could tag along on a trip to the art store, she was not expecting to give a seminar on terms and techniques. “Monochromes are pictures that only use different shades of one color. Usually it’s black and white but I think that’s boring,” she explained.

“Oh. Okay. Can I go look at the sketchbooks?”

“Sure. I’ll come find you.”

It didn’t take Rembrandt much longer to pick out her colors. Trying to balance all of them in her hands, she made her way through the cramped, quiet store to the aisle with the sketchbooks. Fox was not there. Rembrandt cursed under her breath. She hated when she wandered off like this. Walking down each aisle, pausing to look longingly at the nice, expensive spray paints in a locked case, she finally found Fox in the back corner of the store flipping through a book. Fox looked up as Rembrandt came to stand beside her. 

“What did you find?” Rembrandt asked.

Fox showed her the cover. “It’s a guidebook to drawing comic book characters.” 

Rembrandt looked at the book. She looked up at Fox, her eyes intensely focused on the book, gently thumbing the edge of the page. Rembrandt smirked. “Do you want it?”

Fox looked up, eyes wide as her expression brightened. “Really?”

“How much is it?”

“Six dollars. We don’t have the money, do we?”

“Let me check.” She picked out roughly a quarter of the oil pastels in her hands and discreetly slipped them into the inside pocket of Ajax’s leather jacket that she’d borrowed for the day. It was so loose on her that no one would notice if she hid a whole spray paint can in the pocket, let alone a few small sticks. She put a finger to her lips and smiled. “Yeah, we have the money.” 

Fox broke out in a broad grin. Rembrandt made another shut up gesture, and Fox nodded and clutched the book to her chest. They paid for the art supplies and the book - minus the ones snuck into Rembrandt’s pocket - and headed home. Once they were a few blocks away, Fox leaned down and lowered her voice. 

“How many did you swipe?”

“Four or five.”

“Nice.” Fox gasped. “Oh, shit! I don’t have any paper to draw on!”

“I have an extra little sketchbook you can take.”

“Are you sure?” Fox asked with another big smile. 

“Yeah. It’s one I stole, anyway.” It actually wasn’t. She was planning on keeping it in her jacket so she could draw on the train without carrying her full sized sketchbook everywhere, but she could never say no to Fox when her face lit up like that. 

When they arrived back at the apartment, Ajax was lying on the couch watching some thriller TV show. Fox sat at the kitchen table with her book while Rembrandt stood behind the couch. Ajax sat up as Rembrandt leaned down to give her a quick kiss. “How was the art store?”

“It was good,” Rembrandt said. “Got the colors I need and Fox got a book on how to draw comic book characters.”

Ajax glanced at Fox, engrossed in the book, and sat up further to whisper to Rembrandt. “Do we have money for that?”

“I mopped a couple oil pastels and that made up for it.”

“You gotta stop doing that before you get caught.”

“And if I do, I will talk my way out of it.” 

“You’re dangerous.”

“You love it.”

“I do.” Ajax pulled Rembrandt close by her waist and peppered her face and neck with kisses. Rembrandt laughed, cupping Ajax’s face and planting a long, gentle kiss on her lips. 

From the kitchen, Fox called, “Get a room!”

-----

Cowgirl fidgeted on Cleon’s couch. Rembrandt had had her sitting there for close to an hour, and, shockingly, she was almost out of things to say. Sitting in the armchair across from her, Rembrandt barely noticed. When she really got to working on a drawing, she could work through the night without realizing until Ajax woke up and gave her shit for not sleeping again. 

Cowgirl groaned and threw her head back so Rembrandt would finally look up. “Girl, how long do I have to stay like this?” she whined. 

“I’m still blocking colors,” said Rembrandt. “Calm down, I’m almost finished. I just need to get a few more shapes in and then I can do the details on my own.”

“Can I at least see it?”

“Not yet. And stop moving your hat. You change the shape of your hair when you do that.”

“None of your other drawings of me have taken this long.”

“This one is special.”

“Um, excuse me, all pictures of me are special.”

“This one’s a collection,” said Fox. Getting up from the table, she came up behind Rembrandt and put her arms around her shoulders. Rembrandt paused her drawing to squeeze Fox’s hand. “They’re monochromes. She’s doing them for all of us. We’re all different colors.”

“What color am I?” Cowgirl asked. Rembrandt lifted the royal purple oil pastel she was working with in response. “Why am I purple?”

“You feel purple,” Rembrandt said simply.

“The fuck does that even mean?”

“It means exactly what I said.” Rembrandt set aside her pastel. “Okay, I’m done.”

“Thank god.” Cowgirl stood up and stretched. “I need a drink.”

While Cowgirl headed into the kitchen, Fox reached out to touch the edge of the drawing, making sure she didn’t smudge anything. She rested her chin atop Rembrandt’s head. “Hey, what color am I?” she inquired. 

“I haven’t figured it out yet.”

-----

Shouts and screams echoed behind them. The pounding footsteps of their pursuers like a horde of nightmares. Flashing lights and police sirens in the distance, more shots as the world devolved into chaos. Rembrandt ran faster than she ever had in her life. She barely felt the burn of her lungs and her muscles. She barely heard Swan and Cochise and Ajax shouting instructions behind her. All she could focus on was the path ahead and Fox running just as fast beside her.

Fox tripped. She fucking tripped. Rembrandt almost fell herself with how hard she backpedaled. She grabbed Fox’s arm, hauling her to her feet as panicked words tumbled from the younger girl’s lips.

“We’re dead!” she cried. “We’re fucking dead! When I woke up today, I didn’t think we could die!”

“Neither did I!”

Swan shouted behind them. “The cemetery! Go to the cemetery! Go!”

Rembrandt found herself hiding behind a tombstone, pressing her back against the cold, wet rock as she tried and failed to catch her breath. Fox knelt beside her and clung to her arm. A helicopter flew overhead as lights and blaring sirens passed the cemetery. Swan stood, looking around, and motioned for everyone to stand up. “Make sure we’re okay,” she said.

“This is a graveyard,” Rembrandt said pointedly, because Swan usually wasn’t one for dumb sentences but that was fucking stupid. 

“Everybody make it?”

They’d all made it. All except Cleon. All except the best of them.

Rembrandt hadn’t been this terrified since before the Warriors found her. She couldn’t breathe. She could barely see through the rain and the tears she desperately tried to blink away. 

“What are we gon’ do?” she whispered. Fox was right there echoing her. “What are we gon’ do?”

“We get back home alive.”

-----

Rembrandt sat on the floor behind the couch in her and Ajax’s apartment. Her, Ajax, and… Fox. It used to be home, it used to be home for the three of them. She still remembered how happy Fox was when they found an apartment and she got her own room for the first time in her life, no longer on Cleon’s couch or briefly sharing Swan’s room when they decided she couldn’t just stay in the living room anymore. She remembered how excited she was to decorate it with comic book posters and all the plushies she collected from carnival games on the boardwalk. 

Hanging on the walls were the best of Rembrandt’s drawings of her. Fox loved to sit for portraits. She always said how pretty it made her feel. Even months after losing her, Rembrandt couldn’t bring herself to go into that room. Everything left of Fox was just sitting there collecting dust. Rembrandt couldn’t face that. All she could do was stare at the forever-closed door.

The front door to the apartment opened and shut. She flinched at the sharp thunk of the deadbolt, her mind throwing her back into an east village loft, sitting beside Fox on a couch, clinging to her hand and wondering how the hell she’d gotten into a situation like that. 

“Baby, I’m home!” Ajax called. Rembrandt pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. Ajax’s footsteps padded through the apartment, around the couch, and Rembrandt heard her sigh as she knelt beside her. Ajax touched her cheek, and she leaned into the contact. It was second nature at this point. “Why are you on the floor?”

Rembrandt jerked her head towards Fox’s bedroom door. Ajax exhaled sharply through her nose. Wordlessly, she sat on the floor beside Rembrandt and pulled her into her lap, holding tight as Rembrandt wrapped her arms around her neck and buried her face in the crook of her shoulder. She was so sick of crying but she couldn’t stop it, burning tears dripping down her face and soaking into Ajax’s shirt. 

“I miss her,” she whispered.

“I know,” Ajax said. “I miss her, too.”

-----

“I don’t think Rembrandt likes me,” Mercy mumbled. 

“What are you talking about?” Swan asked. “She likes you.”

Rembrandt overheard from the living room in Cleon and Swan’s apartment, which was also Mercy’s apartment now, too, she supposed. Everyone else was out at work or doing gang business and Ajax was still reluctant to leave Rembrandt alone given her mental state over the past months, so she sat with a blank sketchbook in Cleon’s living room until Ajax got back. She tried her best to ignore Swan and Mercy’s conversation but the walls were thin and she couldn’t tune it out. 

“She looks at me like she wants me dead,” Mercy continued. 

“It’s just resting bitch face. That’s how she looks at everyone she doesn’t know.”

Wow, Rembrandt thought. Thanks, Swan.

“Did she look at you like that?”

“No, but that was Rembrandt then. This is Rembrandt now, and she’s just… she’s getting used to you.”

“Everyone else did. Even Ajax doesn’t side eye me every time I walk into the room.”

“Are you mad?”

“No! No, I’m not mad. I just wanna know what I’m doing wrong.”

Rembrandt sank into the couch. She didn’t dislike Mercy and it hurt to know Mercy thought that but it just hurt so much to face her because-

“You’re… you remind her of Fox,” Swan said. “And I mean it in the best way! But Rembrandt just can’t-”

Rembrandt turned on the TV and cranked the volume until she couldn’t hear her own thoughts.

-----

Rembrandt stood over her desk in her and Ajax’s bedroom, rifling through her desk and sorting her sketchbooks and drawings. The books had begun to pile up around the room, her desk was running out of storage space, and the corner she designated for larger canvases and other projects had gone from a corner to an entire wall. Ajax hadn’t exactly asked her to clear out some of the pieces, but she always apologized profusely when she knocked over a stack of books or almost damaged a painting, so Rembrandt decided to whittle down her collection to just the best and most sentimental. 

With her desk mostly sorted, she turned to the squat filing cabinet she kept beside it. In the bottom drawer, she discovered her collection of oil pastel portraits. She found it within herself to smile as she flipped through the stiff sheets of drawing paper. She’d finished most of them a long time ago, maybe missing a detail or two here and there, and there were some parts she could go back and touch up if she really wanted. 

The first one she picked up was Ajax, her strong features highlighted in rich, deep reds, piercing eyes staring directly off the page.

There was Cochise in hunter green, a side profile, smiling softly.

Cowgirl in royal purple, adjusting the brim of her hat with a grin.

Swan’s calm, stoic face in dark night-sky blue. 

A self portrait in sunshine yellow.

Cleon in gold. Rembrandt had had to do a lot of experimenting with colors on that one to make sure the palette didn’t look too similar to her own portrait. She’d used mod podge and gold glitter in the shadows of the piece to give it that extra bit of glow Cleon always seemed to carry with her.

Rembrandt’s heart sank when she got to the last drawing.

Fox, in bright Tiffany blue. Fox with a wide grin, Fox with her sparkling eyes staring back at Rembrandt, immortalized in such a fragile fucking medium that some of the details had already begun to disappear from just sitting in a drawer. Any light touch would smudge the pigment and Rembrandt would lose more and more of her because nothing could be permanent, none of it was permanent, she tried so hard to hold on but no matter what she was just going to lose her all over again-

Rembrandt screamed and swiped half of everything off her desk. Sketchbooks and pencils and paint cans crashed to the floor, and Rembrandt fell to her knees amidst the mess, unable to look at the portrait any longer. 

When Ajax got home later, she found Rembrandt curled into a ball under her desk, still bawling her eyes out, covering her mouth to silence herself. Ajax spotted Fox’s drawing on the desk and didn’t ask what was wrong. She just sat a comfortable distance from Rembrandt and waited for her to come out. Rembrandt loved her for that.

-----

Rembrandt took a deep breath, shifting her backpack straps on her shoulders before knocking on the door to Cleon’s apartment. Mercy answered. Rembrandt knew she would. She’d planned for this, making sure to come over when she knew Mercy was home from work and Cleon and Swan had business to handle. She wanted this to just be for her and Mercy. She just… she needed it to be.

Mercy raised her eyebrows, visibly confused when she opened the door to find Rembrandt alone. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” said Rembrandt. “Can I come in?”

Mercy stepped aside hurriedly, as if she found it rude that she’d been keeping Rembrandt in the hall, even if she really wasn’t. Rembrandt took a few steps into the kitchen as Mercy closed the front door behind her. 

“Is everything okay?” Mercy asked. “Cleon and Swan are out if you need to talk to them.”

“I know. I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

Rembrandt fidgeted. She took a deep breath. “Will you sit for a portrait?”

Mercy blinked, taken aback. “Um… when?”

“Now.”

“Now?”

“It’ll take two hours at most. Probably not even that long. Please?”

“Sure. Sure, okay.”

It took closer to three hours, despite Rembrandt’s best efforts. She had Mercy sit on the couch and let her put something on TV instead of having her sit in silence, even if Rembrandt would have preferred that. It took so long because she had to scrap the start of three different versions. It had been so long since she practiced this that she kept fucking up the gradients to the point where she had to take a break and go smoke with Mercy on the stoop to avoid screaming in frustration and forgetting the whole idea. 

While trying to get the shape of Mercy’s bangs right, Rembrandt’s vision blurred. She jerked her head up just before the tears had a chance to fall on the drawing. She turned aside, scrubbing at her eyes with the hem of her sleeve, somehow managing to keep her breathing steady. 

Mercy noticed and sat up straight. “Rembrandt?” she asked, just a little panicked. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing. I’m okay,” Rembrandt assured her. “It’s… I don’t know. But I’m okay. Please just move back to where you were.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m okay.”

She didn’t need too much more time after that before she was satisfied with the result. Of course, she would look at it the next day and find a million things wrong with it, but she could correct or add or remove details after the fact. As she set her oil pastel aside, her fingertips stained with the pigment, she brushed her thumb along the very edge of the page. It left a miniscule cut behind, a bead of blood staining her skin. She had a momentary flash of panic but nothing got on the paper so it was okay. She wrapped her fingers over her thumb, squeezing until it throbbed, until the bleeding stopped and the stinging disappeared. Mercy, thankfully, did not notice that.

In her peripheral vision, Mercy shifted closer to her on the couch. “Can I see it?”

Rembrandt hesitated. Normally she didn’t share portraits until they were completely finished, but…

She sat beside Mercy and passed her the drawing. “Just don’t touch it. It smudges easily.”

Mercy grinned when she saw her portrait: head resting on her hand and tilted to the side, hair delicately swept behind her ear, eyes calm and gentle, the corner of her lips lifting in just the hint of a smirk. It was all done in the softest coral pink, almost ethereal in the light. She reached over to rest a hand on Rembrandt’s forearm without looking. Rembrandt thought she might cry.

“It’s amazing,” Mercy said with a light laugh. “I don’t think I’ve seen any of your work besides the graffiti before. I didn’t know you could do this.”

“The only medium I don’t work with is oil paint,” Rembrandt said. “Maybe if I win the lottery.”

“This looks like an oil painting. It’s like something out of a museum.”

“Thanks. It’s gonna be part of a project I never finished.”

Mercy turned to her. “What is it?”

“You’ll see it when I finish it.” 

“Swan said you do that.”

“She knows me.” Rembrandt took a deep breath, her shoulders curling in as she met Mercy’s eyes. “I don’t hate you, you know.”

Mercy grimaced. “You heard that?”

“The walls are thin and you guys always talk right next to the door.”

“Noted.”

“For real, though. Look, I admit that I… I’m still getting used to you being here. You’re so much like her that it just throws me for a loop sometimes and I know Swan has told you I don’t like strangers and you’re really not one anymore but I…” Rembrandt’s voice broke. She turned away from Mercy, covering her mouth to keep quiet as she screwed her eyes shut. Was her heart really choosing right now to have a breakdown over this?

Mercy angled herself in and put an arm around Rembrandt. This very much broke the first rule of the “how to keep Rembrandt from freaking out” rulebook that Rembrandt knew Swan had set, but Rembrandt was glad she did it. She shifted closer, wrapping her arms loosely around Mercy’s waist as Mercy pulled her fully into a soft embrace.

Rembrandt closed her eyes and let the tears fall. Mercy didn’t say anything. She just held her.

-----

“Is it straight?” Swan asked.

Rembrandt stood back from the wall. Swan and Ajax stood on chairs, positioning a giant canvas while the other Warriors watched them. Behind Rembrandt, Mercy put her arms around her shoulders and watched over the top of the artist’s head.

“I think Swan’s side needs to come down a little bit,” said Cowgirl from where she sat in the arm chair. 

“Cowgirl, you’re holding your head at a tilt,” Rembrandt said with a wave of her hand. “Ajax, let your side come down an inch. Wait, never mind, half an inch. Yes! There! You guys can let go of it.” 

Swan and Ajax let go and got down off the chairs, stepping back to stand with the rest of the gang. 

Now hung perfectly on the living room wall was a collage of all of Rembrandt’s monochrome portraits. They were lovingly cut out and carefully arranged together, with Fox front and center and the others supporting around her. Behind them was a detailed black-and-white background of the city, enough to fill the empty canvas but not distracting from the main subjects, everything pasted down and covered with sealant so nothing could ever damage the fragile pigments again. 

All of the Warriors, immortalized. 

Cleon crossed her arms and whistled. “Damn, Rem, this is some work. How long you been hiding this?”

“It wasn’t finished,” Rembrandt said simply. “Now it is. With all of us.” 

Mercy held Rembrandt tighter. 

[rizsnt]

they're back on those damn bleachers again

(thank you for 1k!!)

[white-wolf-buckaroo]

In his own twisted way: Prologue

So here it is! First part of my new daughter of Ares fic! I hope you love it as much as I do <3

Word count: 2100 ish words

Warnings: mention of character death

Fic masterlist here!

Ares hated children.

He hated their whining, their crying, their clinging. He didn’t care for the drawings they did, or their “cuteness” or their wonder for everything new around them, and he hated when they cried like babies because of a scrape on their knee, or when they had nightmares and wanted to be held.

He didn’t like them, not even his own.

He hated how they reminded him of his own weaknesses. He hated how they made him feel something other than anger, something he couldn't name.

But he couldn't hate her.

Not entirely. Not when she looked at him with those big eyes, so much like her mother's, and a grin every time she saw him at her doorstep. Not when she smiled at him with that gap-toothed grin, so innocent and trusting, a polar opposite as to how everyone else looked at him. Not when she held his hand with her tiny fingers, so warm and soft, completely trusting him to lead the way.

She was his youngest daughter. Her name was Emily, and just as his other children, he hoped she would grow up to be a troublemaker, a rebel, and a fighter. Someone like him. He had hoped she would make him proud, or, maybe more fitting for him, at least amused. Useful for his battles.

And at barely six years old, she was a true daughter of Ares: she loved adventures, exploring the wild, she didn’t mind getting messy or dirty, and she stood up to whoever opposed to her. However, she was also gentle, kind, curious. She loved nature, and stories, and the stars, and learning. Her little soul was still pure… something Ares bewondered, even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself.

But she was a mistake. A mistake he had made with a mortal woman, which he had tried to ignore, and he almost succeeded at it; he had visited her very few times, enough for her to know who he was, but not sufficient for him to get attached.

Until the day he found out she was dead.

Her mother, not the girl. The woman he had once loved… or, more like, had had a relationship with, was dead. The woman who had birthed and raised their daughter alone, without his help, without his care. She was now gone, leaving their daughter orphaned, alone, and unprotected.

Ares had been fond of her. He hadn’t loved her, no, not really, or at least, not in the romantical way. She had been someone he shared interests with, with whom he formed a connection with, and as a result of that, came Emily. As an immortal being, he was more than accustomed to death (it kind of came in the job description for being the god of war), and especially the death of mortals; their lives were brief, like the blink of an eye, and it rarely affected him anymore, if ever.

But Emily was alone now, without any family left, and even if he was the god of war, and all the brutality and horrors that came with it, he wasn’t exempt of having feelings (on the contrary of what he said about himself). They were the reasons why he found new lovers from time to time, and had children with them every once in a while.

Even the god of war longs for some sort of connection and human emotion.

So he had no choice. He couldn’t have Emily live with him, for obvious reasons, and he also didn’t want that. No, he’d take her to the only place where she would be safe from the monsters that would end up eventually finding her: camp Half-Blood. The camp for demigods, where his other children were. The children he hated, and who hated him back.

He was sure Emily would end up hating him as well. They all did… it was only a matter of time.

So there he was, driving a car towards Long Island, with little Emily sleeping in the backseat, her head leaning against her teddy bear, breaths even and rhythmic. He tried to not pay attention to her wet cheeks, still glistening with tears shed for her mother, or how she had raised her arms up at him upon seeing him when he picked her up, wanting to be comforted by her father; Ares tried to not think about how much she trusted him, with his rough exterior, and without really knowing him, and most importantly, he tried to not think much about how moved it made him feel.

The car stopped in the middle of the road, not too far away from the entrance to camp, hidden in the heart of the forest. Ares reluctantly turned off the engine, and silence followed, only broken by Emily’s breathing, and the faint sound of morning rain falling on the roof of the car.

Ares took a deep breath, pushing back the conflicting emotions that surged within him.

He didn’t know why he was feeling like this. It made him extremely uncomfortable in his own skin, and that was something he didn’t experience often. Perhaps Aphrodite had played some trick on him… making him actually feel something at the prospect of leaving his young daughter all alone at camp half-blood. Something like… dread, and pain, and not the one he was used to. This was pain that came from other feelings he had, that usually blossomed in his chest the few times he visited Emily, or when he looked at her from the rearview inside that car, watching her sleep soundly.

But he didn’t know how to do it. He didn’t know how to be a father, he’d never really had good role models to learn from. He didn’t know how to comfort children, talk to them… or hell, love them. And he didn’t want to even try to… because that wasn’t like him. He hated children. Why even care about his own? He was an Olympian, and Olympians didn’t do that.

When the rain stopped, Ares stepped out of the car, and went to the backseat; Emily only stirred in her sleep when he fumbled with the seatbelt, the unfamiliar task more challenging than he’d like to admit, and she kept on sleeping when he took her into his arms out of the car.

She had with her only her teddy and a small backpack filled with her essentials; Ares hadn’t grabbed more of her stuff when retrieving her.

On top of the hill, where the whole expanse of Camp Half-Blood could be seen for those who had divine heritage, Ares stood, listening: it was very early in the morning, the sun hadn’t risen yet, and the few people at camp were still sleeping; in a few weeks, most of the cabins would be full of demigod children, running around, training, and relishing in the beginning of summer. Emily would have settled until then, and she’d be ready to begin her training alongside her half-siblings to become a warrior, just as every Ares kid did.

His daughter woke up before sunrise, while he was still standing at the same spot. She mumbled something, her little eyes fluttering open, cheeks warm against the skin of his neck. She clutched her bear tighter, tired.

“Daddy?”

Ares hummed, not used to a small child talking to him in such tender voice. Like everything involving Emily, it made him feel that unfamiliar warmth he was uncomfortable with… but that he longed for when he didn’t have it, missing it.

Emily raised her head, slowly starting to look around, and at Camp Half-Blood. Her new home.

“This is where you’ll be staying from now on” he said, watching her. Her little eyebrows frowned, and then she looked at him, directly in the eyes.

“With you?”

“With people like you” he clarified, making sure she understood it “Demigods. Half-bloods. Remember what I taught you about the gods?”

“You are one. It’s your job”

She didn’t really get it, that was obvious. But she was still very young, and he didn’t really expect her to do so. Compared to him… well, his life had been already so long, that her presence in it was like a single grain of sand in the beach: small and imperceptible.

And yet, she was the only one of his children he had brought to camp himself. The only one who he had stayed around enough time for her to call him daddy to his face. The only, and first one, for many things.

At sunrise, a centaur emerged from the big house at camp, and noticed pretty quickly the silhouette of the god on top of the hill, and the small child in his arms.

Ares watched Chiron make his way slowly up to them, and he set then Emily down to the ground, helping her put her backpack on (which looked comically enormous on her little form); she grabbed his hand when she spotted the centaur, tiny fingers clutching his own, nervous. He couldn’t really blame her: she was facing many changes in a very short period of time.

“Ares” greeted Chiron, reaching them. The god acknowledged him with a nod, watching the centaur shift his gaze from him to the little girl by his side, trying to hide behind his leather coat “Hello there, young lady” Emily shyly waved back at him, and introduced herself after Chiron did “I assume… she is yours?”

“My flesh and blood” answered Ares “She will be staying at camp from now on, permanently”

Chiron nodded, and stretched out a hand for her; Emily, encouraged by a nod from her father when she looked up at him, went to the centaur, still uncertain.

“She will be taken care of here”

“I sure hope so”

Chiron looked down at Emily again, smiling at her, trying to ease up her nerves.

“Let’s go to your cabin then, young lady”

He gently guided her to the pathway that led to camp, Ares still standing there, watching them go. But Emily turned back around before leaving, searching for his eyes.

“Daddy?” she asked, with the same small voice from minutes before when she woke up “Aren’t you coming with us?”

He wouldn’t. He knew it from the beginning, of course, and Chiron also knew it. The pain in his chest, however, was unknown.

Ares told her no, and he bit the inside of his cheek when he saw sadness invading her gaze. She ran up to him, raising her arms up again, reaching for him with tears in her eyes. She was all alone, and he was abandoning her as well.

Chiron looked away, his heart breaking silently for the young demigod, while Ares stood there, conflicted by his feelings (those damn feelings he couldn’t handle).

“Listen kid” Emily still had her arms raised up, not budging, and he gave in, picking her up “You’re gonna stay here, you like it or not. Don’t go soft on me now”

Emily pouted at her dad, sniffling.

“But I want to stay with you”

“Yeah, but you can’t. You’ll stay here. That’s final”

She made a mad face at him (which made her look more like an angry kitten in his eyes, actually cute, but he wouldn’t admit that), frowning.

“You’re a meanie, Daddy”

There it was. She was starting to hate him too. Yep… All of them did.

“Sorry to break it to you, kid, but life isn’t fair”

He set her down, but she didn’t move, instead looking up at him with her big eyes. She looked like him, he noticed then, very much so in her way of staring at his face: she was fierce, but also vulnerable.

“Will you come visit me?”

Ares sighed, waving his hand as if to shrug it off.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Maybe sometimes. Now go”

Emily sighed, mirroring him perfectly, and obeyed, going back to the centaur. She did look back at him one time before leaving, though, waving at him.

“Bye Daddy. Love you”

Ares felt that uncomfortable pressure in his chest as a response to her words, feeling like his insides tightened, constricted, twisted and turned all over. He watched her go in silence down the hill alongside Chiron, and he dared to take one last look at her before leaving for good, having completed his self-imposed task of taking his daughter to camp.

“Goodbye, little warrior”

Tough exterior be damned, Ares cared for his daughter.

In the quiet of the moment, where no one was watching him, being completely alone, he allowed himself to hope: He hoped she would be happy. He hoped she would be safe. He hoped she would forgive him for leaving her there.

And he also hoped he would someday be able to forgive himself for doing so too.

***

Taglist: @strawberryys-stuff @ladysybilchronicles

[staerplatinum]

Some of my favorite doodles from my headcanon/redesign concept sheets used as an excuse to list my headcanons about the main six (for an AU that I'm writing)! More under the cut!

Charlie Morningstar:

She's way more hot-headed than in canon, albeit still keeping her cheerful and gentle persona.

She loves food, and she's always hungry. I always loved the trope of protagonists (both male and female, like look at Goku himself, Usagi Tsukino or Minako Aino) and I think it could fit Charlie perfectly!

She loves planning (and this is already canon) and she has a lot of stationary gadgets. "Sure Alastor, you can borrow any pen! ... Not that one! :D" And takes good care of them.

Her birthday is February 29th. I thought that it wouldn't be strange if her birthday ended up being that day if she follows a demoniac calendar...

Vaggie:

It's canon that she likes everything to be clean and organized. I think she would help Niffty with the rooms and everything! They bond!

She and Angel Dust absolutely have BFFs vibes. Before Hazbin Hotel I remember they were meant to be a couple, but with the new canon they're still adorable as best friends and I love the dynamic more. They get into fights but it's never anything serious, they look like a big brother and a little sis, even though sometimes she definitely acts as a big sis to him. Angel sees Molly through her :(

As we know she doesn't really believe in herself, but she actually makes a very good leader!

In my fanfic, contrarily to the series, she was really fighting with burning hate towards the angels that cast her out. She holds a deep grudge and it's hard for her to come out of it. (I want Out for Love to be useful, it's my favorite song ç_ç)

Her name as a human was Agata Flores, she was born the 28th of June in 1993. If we still count 2014 as her death and if she was once a winner that then became sinner... my headcanon is that she died of a hate crime in March 25th 2014, aged 21.

Angel Dust:

He's not in drag 24/7. He really is feminine, but sometimes likes to try masculine outfits too. (which make Husk wonder "why am I staring??")

He's secretly a nerd. Or not so secretly. He owns video games, and especially likes RPGs and life sims.

He overanalyses everything. Well, almost everything but still. He actually likes reading, and this led him to analyse anything that comes into his eye. (Oh, I can't wait to write one of those scenes because I already had fun outlining it LMAOO)

He's probably Charlie's food buddy. Give them some food and they'll be happy (Valentino doesn't like this but get screwed Val, give him food too)

His name as a human was Anthony (canon) Cavallaro and had Neapolitan heritage. He's born in April 1st (and this is canon) 1912, he died of overdose (canon) in October 11th 1947, aged 35.

Alastor:

I loved his pilot persona more than the series', and most of the things are confirmed canon... but I do have some headcanons for him, too! (also yeah I don't think that will be my last radioapple drawing or doodle lol)

We know he either doesn't sleep or sleeps with his eyes open. Well, I imagine him that in the few rare occasions he actually sleeps, his radio works as a mental surveillance "camera". Also, he's a light sleeper and would definitely go "Do you fellows mind? I'm trying to sleep." like the old man he is.

I would like to explore Alastor's feelings for Charlie more, and how he sees her as a daughter. While we may not know if he was telling the truth, I think they both seeked each other as a fatherly and daughter figures in a way. Many in the fandom headcanon Alastor's father to have been shitty to him. If he truly sees Charlie as a daughter, it could be because he would like to be a better father than the one he had, and since he never had children, he grew affectionate to Charlie as such.

He knows how to handle alcohol well, but I like to think that when he's really drunk he doesn't even know what he's doing. Oh, you saw him playing with Angel's Nintendo Switch? He even brought it into his room to continue playing Animal Crossing by himself? He was totally wasted.

His name as a human was Alastor (which is apparently canon, but I wonder if it'll be retconned or not?) Boudreaux-Alexander. Boudreaux was his father's last name, Alexander was his mother's. He didn't like his mother taking her husband's last name and wanted to keep his mother's. He was born in March 7th 1901, and died in August 4th 1933, aged 32, after being shot by a hunter that confused him with a deer and was mauled by dogs afterwards. (Yikes, I'm so sorry)

Niffty:

She definitely has written lots of fanfics about her fellow hotel friends. Especially men. Yet, she loves Charlie and Vaggie too, so they're there as well.

We know both Niffty and Husk have deals with Alastor. She loves them both, I love to headcanon that when she feels lonely and can't sleep well or had nightmares, she either goes to Husk's or Alastor's room to sleep with them. They welcome her warmly ç_ç

Alastor and Husk most definitely know Niffty's story, which is why they care about her so much. She's childish for her age, but it could be tied to a past that only the two of them know very well.

Niffty knew Vox when they were alive. Now I know it could be a weird headcanon since Niffty is Japanese and Vox is American, but if Niffty's work brought her around the world it wouldn't be weird if they crossed paths. When Vox died Niffty was 19, she either saw him die in front of her eyes or something else happened.

As I mentioned in my concept sheets, she used to wear glasses when she was alive so she can't see really well without them after she died. Sometimes she borrows Alastor's monocle, and if we apply the headcanon that he's colorblind, without his monocle not only he can't see anything but can't even see colors LOL

Her name when she was alive was Sachiko Tanaka, born February 27th 1934. She died September 1st 1956, aged 22, there are popular headcanons about the way she died and yikes, if it's true she didn't have a good death either. Not at all.

Husk:

Maybe I'm overanalysing but what if the reason why he grew affectionate to Niffty was because he once had children? Or just one? Either he had a child and was with him but felt like he wasn't a good father or his ex-wife left him because of his gambling addiction and this made him feel guilty, not able to see his child ever again. (I feel bad just thinking about this but ç_ç)

Despite the fact he hates being on a leash and none other than Alastor's, he actually cares about him. If the two were friends when they were alive (including Mimzy), this could explain why he's still around Alastor even if reluctantly. (Sure he says he's forced, but in the pilot Alastor summoned him, so it's safe to assume either Alastor-Husk-Niffty were roommates before coming to the hotel and did their business without telling Alastor, or simply we need more explanations of Alastor's deals)

His name when he was alive was Ivan Goncharov, born January 29th 1900, and died in December 23rd 1967, aged 67. As I mentioned in my concept sheets, he was friends with Alastor and Mimzy when they were alive and he was the last one of them to die. He would often visit his friends' graves when he was still alive :(

[averyangrypossum]

Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce the

Flowerbroadcast AU!

Based on the two drawings I did of a fankid for the ship radiostatic.

The full-body one

And the one with both Vox and her

And now, I’m gonna tell you all about it and exactly who the fuck this little kid is.

Lotus is the daughter of Vox (as you can tell) and Alastor and is six years old. She was created shortly after Vox and Al broke up, oh yeah I should probably talk about their relationship status. Vox and Alastor, unlike in canon, weren’t only close friends but were dating at some point, mostly because Alastor wanted to manipulate Vox’s feelings to where he’d be more compilable but accidentally took it too far, and since Vox is a piss baby Alastor decided to entertain Vox for a while.

Was this relationship healthy?

NO!

Would Vox say these were the best years of his afterlife?

Yeah.

But anyways, in this au when Vox asks Alastor to “join his team” he was actually proposing and Alastor finally realized,

“Shit maybe this has gone out of hand” and breaks it off with Vox which leaves Vox heartbroken and with an incel breakdown. Now instead of trying to move the fuck on, he has our little darling Lotus, who he has trying to fill the hole that Alastor left.

So obviously having a child for that reason isn’t going to make you a good parent.

Lotus’ relationship with the Vees are as follows in the particular order.

1 Velvette: She does Lotus’s hair everyday and picks out outfits for her to post on her social media before Lotus immediately undos everything that Velvette does and just goes for pigtails and her nightgown. Velvette has wine aunt energy and is probably the only one of the Vees to know how to talk and get through to Lotus.

2 Valentino: Surprising I know, but Lotus doesn’t know what he does to his workers, she knows what he does for work but grew up with thinking that was just something normal since Valentino was never hush hush about his job around her much to Vox’s dismay. Valentino isn’t a big fan of children and doesn’t hang around her often, but sometimes he’ll draw along side her while bitching about a particular show she’s watching even though it’s literally made for kids.

3 Vox: Wow, how bad do you have to fuck up for a pimp who hardly spends time with her to be ranked higher than her own father?? Vox, despite making the conscious decision to have her, he isn’t around like at all. Hes a workaholic through and through, and mostly leaves her with nannies and Velvette. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t love her. Au contraire he loves her with all his heart and soul. Will give her anything except quality time. He uses her more of an accessory than a child.

Now how exactly Lotus was made is up to you.

A robotic creation Vox made? Sure!

Some voodoo magic shit? Yeah!

Some weird magic thing where she kinda just poofed into existence? Why not!

Mpreg? I mean, do what you wanna do ig?

Cuz it really doesn’t matter!

This whole au starts with Lotus running away from the Vee tower to explore hell since she's basically Rapunzel. She gets lost and terrorized by sinners until our deer Alastor rescues her. Seeing his chance to promote the hotel he takes her there where she is offered to stay there by Charlie when Lotus complains about how bad her dad is. She graciously accepts because shes only six but is going through her “My dad hates me and I hate him” era. Which I mean…I would get that impression too if I didn’t see my dad that much.

Wait my dad lives across the country…don't talk to me rn I’m busy dyeing my hair black and becoming emo 🖤

But anyways she stays there while Vox is loosing his fucking mind, and becoming more mentally unstable.

Meanwhile! She's having the time of her life with the hotel's residents and a new father figure who treats her well and pays attention to her! Alastor! Now Al doesn’t know she is his kid, but that doesn't stop him from being a better dad than Vox out of spite!

Anyways, thats all I have, for now! Stay tuned my friends~

[xixovart]

mali’s hcs for aquaman’s doppelgänger i think (percy. it’s percy.)

love my og homie

i'm coming in hard and strong (that's what she said) and saying that percy would NOT love taylor swift!!!! percy is an edgy teenage SKATER BOY!!!!!! he listens to d4vd tame impala childish gambino arctic monkeys and the neighbourhood!!!!! stop the percy swiftie allegations!!!

i know this is basically canon in the show but percy, like nico, was an absolute pain in the ass for sally. this kid would draw all over. everything. do not give a six year old percy a marker he will draw on your fancy white couch. or eat it. could be either.

sally having to fight for her LIFE to get a nine year old percy to wake up for school. “mom i can't go to school im sick” “you just accidentally kicked me in the face with the strength of a motivated horse you liar”

honestly she was so done with his bs. 5th grade for percy was an ERA.

“percy no you cannot put your hand in a blender.” 

“percy we do not eat rocks.”

“percy get up from the floor, we are at the supermarket. no you cannot have a fruit roll up.”

“percy it’s three in the morning why would you want to go to the zoo.” “to see the penguins ☹️”

korra coded

reminder that he’s canonically a skater i’ll never get over this.

he loves band shirts and has a bunch of posters all around his dorm

i think he likes the rain, even though it’s zeus’ domain. it just calms him down. (im projecting)

reminder that percy isn’t dumb he’s just chaotic

percabeth skating dates i'm hyperventilating 

he really hated third grade. when asked about it he will say “the chaos and the mind games…” and not elaborate 

percy “grover is my wife” jackson

percy was actually pretty quiet in school. he wasn’t usually a class clown, he’s just the quiet disabled kid who got crappy grades (and was absolutely stunning i should mention)

captain of the school swim team <3

really likes 7/11??? for some reason?

the second he got his licence (and a car) he would nEVER stop driving. after tartarus, he would space out and disassociate, and he often had panic attacks. driving with no destination helps him calm down.  (IM PROJECTING)

estelle absolutely adores her brother. like never leaves his side. she would cling to his leg whenever he had to leave and she would BEG to come along whenever percy and annabeth went on a date

he eats a LOT. like so much.

he got used to using military time after his training with lupa and his time at camp jupiter :)

“you are just a boy, you are no man, and nobody you know will understand.” except it’s about percy in the original series, who was so heavily relied on to be a hero that he lost his sense of self. we as a fandom joke about this so much but percy lost his innocence for the people who ruined his and his loved ones’ lives. he sacrificed his humanity because of the gods’ blatant abuse and ignorance of their children. he is a child for the entirety of the original series, a child who has gone through so much and so rarely gets a break. even when he’s in school, when he’s not at camp and doesn’t have to worry about olympus, he still fucking does. he still never rests easily because the world’s fate hinges on HIM. not zeus, not his father, him. the scene with atlas was so significant because it represents so much. in a literal sense, percy, annabeth, and luke—the three who carried atlas’ burden—had the fate of the world on their shoulders. one shrug and the world could collapse. what most of the fandom fails to see is that the second percy was claimed, his childhood ended.

[fluffymaxsworld]

“seven days”

monday

model!simonriley x normie!reader

[simon is a model, you’re the typical sweet girl, no smut (but planned), enemies to lovers, mutual attraction, orphanage, mention of christianity, ghost can’t basically socialize poor boy :(]

[not proof read, i’m sorry for grammar mistakes, i’m not english :))]

“If you want to improve your situation you have to take part in this volunteer project” simon riley’s manager handed him a voucher, “It’s a week-a-week job at an orphanage in a small town”

“one week should be easy” he said, “sign me up”

MONDAY

simon riley, world famous model, finally arrived at the orphanage.

lately rumors began to spread about his deep hate for children, which was half true, he wouldn’t lie, but still a bad thing for his public image.

“you should be simon, come in” a old woman greeted him, smiling weakly.

now i get why they need help, he thought.

“i’m really happy another young man has decided to help us”

another? there are other people?

“it’s such a pleasure being here, mrs…?”

“oh, sarah is fine” she began to walk towards a small, cozy room. “this is where you’ll sleep for the next few days, get comfortable!”

“thank you sarah” he smiled and dropped his suitcase on the floor, “i’ll make sure to be as quick as possible to start today”

“what a kind guy!” she said, leaving him alone in the room.

he took a glance around. it was quite different from the hotel rooms he was used to, the sunlight hitting the walls and the beds… beds?!

he didn’t noticed that there were another pair of bags on the floor, a deep shade of pink and some feminine clothes dropping out of them. one of the bed was done, light blue sheets and soft pillows. someone was going to sleep with him.

he sighed, taking out his black surgical mask (to avoid paparazzi during the whole day, his manager said) and putting it on his face, half of it now well covered.

after doing his bed and preparing the last things, he walked into the common space full of lively children and a sweet scent of baked cookies, something he missed a lot. he noticed a couple of women and men around his age helping the kids or playing with them. he sat on a chair, looking around for something to do.

a small hand reached his arm touching his hard muscles.

“are you new??” a cute voice coming out of a small kid, six years old maybe.

“i am kiddo” he replied, “what’s yer name?”

“alex!!” he smiled, “and that’s my best friend!”

he pointed at a 20 years old girl that was wearing a cute yellow dress full of sunflowers, smiling sweetly at some children that were drawing on a piece of paper. you.

“she’s the best ever! i love her so much!” the kid interrupted his thoughts, gripping his arm gently.

“alex! come back here!” your even sweeter voice called out the kid who immediately, still holding simon’s arm, ran towards you.

“hey hey, look who i found! he’s new!” alex said, smiling almost proud of his new friend.

“hello, simon riley”

“simon riley? the model?” you asked bluntly, your soft expression hardening at the thought of more problems, “what are you here for, money or something? we definitely don’t need any trouble”

“girl, relax. i wanted to help, that’s all.” he replied, getting quite annoyed by the same girl he found nearly attractive a few seconds before.

“a model? that wants to help? oh please, do you think i’m stupid?” you grunted.

“what’s your problem, girl. s’not like i’ve brought wit’ me paparazzi and fangirls”

“your stupid fangirls. how can people like celebrities they never met…” you mumbled, almost to yourself.

“i can hear you.” he groaned, “and i even thought you were sweet”

“the fu-” you covered your mouth before cursing in front of the kids, “i don’t wanna talk to you, so please leave me alone”

“tsk, s’not like i wanted to talk to ya” and with this, he walked away.

liar. he wanted to talk to you. so damn much.

lunch time. simon talked to a few guys working there that told him about how the days works and the breaks.

“you’ll choose a table for the whole week, unfortunately you can’t change it.” they explained.

simon took his food, a warm soup with a side of chicken, and sat on a half empty table.

he had small talks with the guys sitting there when suddenly he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“what are you doing here?” your voice broke the silence in his mind.

“eating?” he replied, almost sarcastically.

“eating, here?” you sat besides him, “this is my table”

“so? now it’s ours” he grunted.

i wonder how’d you look in bed sweetheart, he thought, blushing slightly under his mask.

“whatever. there’s no need to fuck around for a stupid thing like this.” you said.

“so you can swear. thought ya were some kind of church typa girl”

“what the hell is this supposed to mean? a christian girl can’t swear?” you growled.

“no no, that’s not…” he stopped, “whatever, forget it. let’s just ignore each other.”

“good idea”

simon entered his room, curios on who his roommate might be, maybe a cute girl, he thought.

well, whoever they were, they didn’t arrive yet. luckily, because he needed a shower. after taking off his sweaty clothes and bringing with him all the stuff for his model-like shower he stepped in, turning on the warm water and cleaning up.

you opened the door of your room, sarah already told you about your new roommate and you just prayed he wasn’t simon. a soapy scent filled the air so you just figured out he was probably taking a shower.

you laid on your light blue bed, enjoying the pleasant breeze, smiling softly and thinking about your day.

simon isn’t a bad guy for sure, but you just couldn’t help but imagine him like a thirsty-for-fame man. yet you couldn’t also deny his attractiveness, which made you blush softy at the only sight of him.

of course he’s handsome, he’s a model! you thought.

simon finished the shower. he wrapped around his hips a white towel. he opened the door and…

“you!?” he grunted.

“you??” you grunted back, studying his appearance, “put something on, you pervert!”

“i just took a shower, dumbass!” he growled.

“whatever, put something on anyways!” you looked away, pressing your face into the soft pillow.

he’s so damn hot!!! you thought, blushing intensely.

why does she have to be so annoying, such a waste for a cutie like her, he thought, closing the bathroom door and putting on his calvin klein boxers.

after awhile he stepped out (again) all dressed up as he saw you already sleeping on your bed. you had changed clothes too in the meantime.

so she was naked? he smirked.

“you’re so breathtaking” he whispered to himself.

“i’m what?” you muttered, sleepy voice and sleep eyes.

luckily for him, you weren’t facing him, because right now he was blushing like a school girl, covering his face.

“annoying! you’re so annoying!” he tried to correct himself.

“tsk, whatever.”

i love this concept, seven days of model!simonriley x normie!reader.

i want him to wake up with a morning erection😍😍

pt 2 coming in a few days :))

ask to join a taglist <33

[funkyyusername]

i miss urinetown so here are some little sally character notes i made while i was little sally so i can cope

- she really likes flowers

- like she can look at a flower and immediately name it

- “oh thats a diphylleia grayi” “a what”

- due to the water shortage though there isn’t a lot of greenery

- so she usually just draws flowers everywhere any chance she gets

- “give me your arm real quick :3” she says holding a pen having only malice intent behind those big eyes of hers

- she also reads a lot

- not because she likes it but because lockstock just gives her a bunch of books and she has nothing better to do

- i like to think that on like christmas or smth the poor give her like really run down beaten up toys that could give the average child nightmares

- while lockstock just walks up with a bag of books

- not even childrens book but like whole ass college textbooks

- “idk what kid read these days but i like this”

- little sally is too nice to say anything about it

- this is why she knows what metaphysical means

- mcqueen…. (red angry face with fist up)

- i don’t even know what mcqueen could have done to her she just really hates him

- maybe that one time he didn’t give her a coin really fucked her up

- “one time” it was probably multiple times

- mcqueen probably called her a slur too, before like spitting on her idk

- she’s actually pretty prone to violence

- like she would definitely beat someone up if they wronged her

- the only reason she was so against killing hope is one, in her eyes hope didn’t do anything wrong and two, bobby lovesssss her

- she looks up to bobby a lot

- this is mostly because bobbys like the only character that isn’t completely stupid

- thats not true penny has a bunch of braincells in there

- but penny is scary

- omg theres also her lore with lockstock

- infodumping lockstock and sally’s entire lore

- little sally had pretty neglectful parents

- she was an accident baby and her parents were really suffering from the water shortage so they paid no attention to her

- lockstock met little sally when she was around six and lockstock was still pretty new to his job

- little sally has a big mouth and so one day while talking to lockstock she just casually brings up the fact that her parents piss on the pavement daily

- lockstock of course took action to it and took her parents to urinetown

- BUT but since lockstock was so new to the job he hadn’t fully realized what urinetown was until he was in the middle of bringing sallys parents to urinetown

- so now lockstock feels guilt for killing sally’s parents which is why he acts like such a parent to her

- and also why sally feels pretty safe during the whole rebellion

- i think post tell her i love her little sally joined the rebellion half because she believed in it and also half because she knew that lockstock wouldn’t hurt her

- bro is manipulative

- it wasn’t until she saw bobby literally be thrown off a building where she became scared of lockstock

- it was there when she decided to cut all ties with lockstock

- “oh but don’t they meet up at the end” LET ME TELL YOU

- so you know how after hope is like “yes go pee for free my pookies” the water becomes bad and everyone dies

- because little sally isn’t with lockstock anymore she isn’t protected by the narrative

- SO SHE DIES TOO

- LITTLE SALLY IS DEAD

- so the whole conversation lockstock had with little sally was all a hallucination in lockstocks head

- i guess for lockstock to cope with basically losing the person he considered his daughter

- whoops this turned sad

- little sally braids bits of her hair out of boredom

[s0dium]

hi!!! i just saw you had a matchup event and i would like to enter if its still open 👉🏾👈🏾

i typically go by nikki online!! i’m pan so i don’t really have a preference for gender. i would like to be matched with jjk or demon slayer charas!!

i game, draw (i’m starting an art account and hoping to sell works… soonish?), and watch twitch streams literally daily. i’m a very big nerd!!! openly, too. there’s not much i don’t like other than basic boundaries and being overstimulated.

wait. i hate people that lie. for whatever reason!! i’m very honest (a lawful good 😔) and empathetic to a fault at times. with that being said i find it easier to make friends than most, usually from doing something equally stupid and kind for people. very family and close friend oriented, but not so much that i think its a priority in relationships. (though i don’t want children and probably will never)

i think i’m very into quality time and acts of service as love languages. my partner also has to be okay with physical touch… i get cuteness aggression so much. i don’t have many turn offs but i do want some sort of open communication and to feel safe. my partner should also be my best friend!!

and uhhh. most things don’t make me cry? i’m typically the strong person that people look to to keep them stable in tough or situations. though i am very open about my struggles with depression and anxiety, i think i’m often seen as pretty cheerful and always laughing LOL

also omg i love cats….. so sad my family is afraid of them :(

hopefully this is not too long… i’m so sorry if it is. but ty for reading and doing a matchup event!!!

Nanami Kento!

Nanami's voice is ragged against your mouth. "If I get my hands on you, really, honestly get my hands on you, I don't know if I'll be able to stop. You know he isn't lying. You know it in your soul. That's why you trust him with your body. "So stop being so honorable Nanami and touch me."

It was tempting to pair you with a more "nerdy" character but I see Nanami fulfilling and completing you really well

Most of your dates with Nanami would involve quiet, meaningful activities at home. He appreciates your artistic side, so evenings might be spent with you drawing or even watching twitch streams while he reads or works quietly beside you, both enjoying the comfortable silence.

Nanami's love language leans towards acts of service, much like your own. He would likely show his affection through practical gestures, perhaps organizing your art supplies or upgrading your computer setup for gaming and streaming, appreciating how these things bring you joy.

With both of you valuing honesty, conversations would be refreshingly straightforward. Nanami's blunt nature complements your own directness, leading to a relationship grounded in trust and open communication.

Nanami def respects boundaries and personal time, aligning well with your need for space when overstimulated. He understands the importance of having time apart to engage in individual interests, which only strengthens your relationship.

He might not be the type to overtly celebrate every little achievement, but Nanami would make a point to acknowledge and celebrate milestones in your art career or personal projects, understanding the significance of these moments to you.

Nanami is the definition of stable, he is honestly someone you can rely on in your worst times. Trust him and he will trust you

True to his word, Nanami clocks out at six and keeps work at work, ensuring that your time together is undisturbed by outside responsibilities, which means uninterrupted date nights and more focused attention on each other. Probably says smth like “sorry gotta go see my girlfriend.” And just dips in the middle of a fight.

NANAMI IS A SERVICE DOM this is canon I’m sure.

I put his libido at a 6/10 which probably isn’t as high as yours (as you mentioned) but like I said he is a service dom so would definitely help you out

Definitely open to bondage

Hope you enjoyed!

MATCHUP RULES AND INFO

[linajinnnn]

How they were translated: Korean SIX

Brought some lines and lyrics from Korean Production of SIX. Take a look at how they were translated! * notes: the lines and lyrics may not be fully accurate, 'cause I wrote them only depending from my memory.

[Ex-wives]

Remember us from PBS/GCSEs? ▶ Remember us from History Special? 우리 역사 스페셜에서 봤지? (note: History Special is one of the most popular TV show in Korea, broadcasted during 1998-2012. They mada a right localization!)

You're gonna find out how he got unfriended ▶ You're gonna find out the reason I blocked him. 알게 될 걸 그를 차단한 이유

But I didn't look as good as I did in my pic Funny how we all discuss that But never Henry's little- ▶ So he's disappointed with my actual look Do you think you're the only one who's disappointed? Your tiny and little- 근데 실물 보고 달라서 실망했대 지만 실망한 줄 아나 작고 작은 너의 소중이 (OK so Korean Cleves didn't just 'unfriended' but 'blocked' Henry… and she slays 🤣)

[No way]

Well daddy weren't you there When I gave birth to Mary? (spoken) Aw, hi baby Daughters are so easy to forget ▶ What was the word Mary calls you? (spoken) Daddy So daughters are not enough to be your children 우리 딸 메리가 뭐라고 부르지 널 아빠 딸은 자식 아닌가보지

+ and Korean Aragon says 'Hola' instead of 'Muy Bien' at the beginning.

[Don't Lose Ur Head]

L-O-L, say "oh well" Or go to hell ▶ Ha-ha-ha, just laugh at it Or just shut up 하하하 웃든지 아님 닥쳐줘

Your comment went viral / Wow Anne, way to make the country hate you ▶ You've got so many mean tweets / You've got million haters 너 악플 쩔더라 / 백만 안티 (especially loved this one😂 gives bit of K-POP industry vibe)

[Haus of Holbein]

Ignore the fear and you'll be fine We'll turn this vier into a nine So just say "ja" and don't say "nein" ▶ It's okay don't worry We're photoshop them das is gut Never doubt them das is gut 괜찮아 걱정하지마 뽀샵해줄게 das is gut 의심하지마 das is gut

[Get Down]

Get down, you dirty rascal ▶ Get down and bow to me 엎드려 절하여라 (and when Korean Cleves says this her tone is like a character from historical drama👍)

[Howard Intro]

Nice neck by the way ▶ What a pretty neck you've got! By the way you still have it! 너 목 정말 예쁘다! 그나저나 아직까지 달려있구나 (so Korean Boleyn's got Regina George vibe love them)

[All You Wanna Do]

But my dad's got this amazing job at the palace ▶ My dad's got me amazing internship at the palace 근데 아빠가 궁전에 끝내주는 인턴 자릴 잡아준거야 (they translated it as 'internship' and I wonder why🤔 Maybe to emphasize how young Howard is?)

[Parr Intro]

Ooh, “I’m Catherine Parr, I draw lines in arbitrary places.” Blah-blah! ▶ "Hello, I'm Catherine Parr, came to draw lines in your conscience." ZIP! 안녕 난 캐서린 파야 양심에 선을 긋겠어 찍- (and Ryeowon's Howard was damn cute when she says ZIP!)

[Six]

His mates were super arty But I showed them how to party ▶ My friends are Artistic My Parties are Fantastic 내 친구는 아티스틱 내 파티는 판타스틱 (Cleves says the word 'Aristic' and 'Fantastic' in English 😆)

…and for the last, I bring you how my favorite lyrics from SIX were translated into Korean!

We're one of a kind No category Too many years Lost in history We're free to take Our crowning glory ▶ No one can make category on us Our own history that was forgotten Taking back my freedom and glory 우릴 하나로 묶을 순 없어 잊혀졌던 우리의 역사 내 자유 영광 이제 되찾아

It's the end of the show, of the histo-remix We switched up the flow and we changed the prefix Everybody knows that we used to be six wives But we wanna say before we drop the curtain Nothing is for sure, nothing is for certain All that we know is that we used to be six wives ▶ Our show is about to end re-writing the history Our own lyrics we changed and singing Everyone knows we were that six wives We wanna say before the show ends Do not be certain for anything you know We are not that six wives everyone used to know 이제 끝나가는 쇼 다시 쓰는 역사 바꿔 부르는 우리만의 가사 모두가 알지 우리가 바로 식스 와이프 쇼가 끝나기 전에 얘기할래 니가 아는걸 확신하지마 모두가 알던 우리가 아냐 식스 와이프

I know there are lots of negative comments among Korean theater fans, about how poor the Korean translations are. But I did like some parts. I won't say I'm fully satisfied with the translations but some parts were really touching just like the original ones. Hope they make progress in the future. 😊

[formosusiniquis]

*whispers* Some kind of Terry Pratchett AU

This got wildly out of control in the sense that I spent way too much time thinking about this today and now I'm scrapping all my current reads so I can reread Discworld. It has footnotes! Anyway I interpreted some kind of Terry Pratchett as vague Discworld and this happened.

Currently taking warm up prompts - they will end up being Stranger Things

“Get out of the window kid. Have you been invited in there?”

Hearing Hopper’s voice makes Eddie miss Brenner for one fitful second.^1 Brenner never instilled nosy night watchmen who ruined his day. He’d even risked getting singed to make it to this exact spot before shift change. “Really up and at ‘em tonight, chief!” Eddie cheers, he doesn’t move from the window.

“There were reports of a disturbance.” Hopper grouches.

“Weird, I didn’t notice any disturbance climbing up here. Good luck hunting it down!”

“Munson, get your bloodsucking ass down from the window. You are the disturbance.”

“Pretty sure talk like that is hate speech, Chief, thought you Nightwatch types were supposed to be accepting?” He does float down though, if that vein bulging in Hop’s neck bursts like it’s threatening to it would make a nice snack.^2

“I’ve been very accepting, or I would have hauled you in for breaking and entering already.”

“I didn’t break anything, and I’d barely even entered. Are these the kind of flimsy cases that Owen’s Hawkins is basing its justice system around? That’s bordering on wrongful imprisonment. I’ll have my day in court!” Hopper shuts him up with a growl and a hand fisted in his collar.^3

“What were you doing breaking into the Harrington place, Munson. Cut the bullshit, I’ve got a dark wizard uprising that actually needs my attention instead of playing personal police to this side of town.”

“I wasn’t breaking in. I was invited.”

“By the owner of the house.”

“Yes!”

“No influence involved?”

“How little you think of me! I am a wanted and treasured guest.”

“Then why are you coming in through the window?”

“Wow, Hop, the romance dead between you and Joyce already? I try to keep things fresh so my lovely little lord stays interested, thus I climb my fair prince's tower."

That vein looks extremely close to bursting, it's making his mouth water a little. "Remember how I feel about the local childminder^4 and try that sentence again, Munson.”

“I pissed Stevie off and I’m pretty sure he had Dustin set up a flashbulb on the door. I figured if he saw me in person he couldn’t stay mad.” And he doesn’t want to get swept up by the maid again. Last time he almost got tossed with the actual dust, and he’s pretty sure she was gonna do it on purpose.

“Pretty sure he can, kid.” Hopper says, clapping him on the back and heading off toward his uprising or whatever. “Next time, why don’t you sing him a song. Or try not pissing him off in the first place.”

Some advice that was, Stevie loved playing a little fairytale pretend. He just needed to decide if he was the dashing prince or the beast that trapped him.

^1: This would mark the only time anyone, shy of his mother† would actually miss Brenner.

† His mother, of course, unaware of the many crimes against children, humanity, and inhumanity that he had committed.

^2: Eddie had actually gone full Black Ribbon, but he was a big believer in waste not, want not

^3: For a man of so many growls, Hopper was not the lone werewolf officer on the Nightwatch. A win for Don’t Judge a Book By its Cover activists everywhere.

^4: Harrington's Home for Horrible Half Pints, though poorly named, took advantage of the young Lord Steve Harrington’s supernaturally magnetic draw for troublemakers, rascals, and rapscallions. He was regularly trailed by six mischief makers who wouldn’t listen to anyone but him.

[saintsenara]

death (eaters) in paradise bellatrix lestrange/lord voldemort mature | 7.3k words

‘this is lovely,’ she said to the muggle bell-boy, who gave her a cheeky smile.

‘i asked for a twin,’ said the dark lord.

the bell-boy looked at bella, and then looked at the dark lord as though he were insane. ‘sorry, señor,' he said, not sounding very sorry at all, ‘but this was all there was available. you’ll be fine to share with her, no?’

a spanish anti-muggle group wishes to meet with the dark lord in marbella. so, it makes perfect sense for his favourite lieutenant to go with him. after all, she could do with a holiday.

this piece was written for week six of @ladiesofhpfest, on the theme of hot girl summer [you can find the masterlist for this week's fics here].

authors notes under the cut

and it's too hot here to think to much about anything, so this is not a particularly deep story - the inspiration was entirely the fact that the idea of bellamort on holiday in marbella is funny. these are not two people who can be easily imagined lounging by a pool - although it has always tickled me that lord voldemort is ascending to the height of his powers alongside a period of luridly-coloured pop culture. the tiki cocktails of the late 1940s and the disco drinks of the 1970s shouldn’t be something one associates with him. and yet.

but there is something serious underneath all the brits-abroad capering [rip to the german tourist, hated by a nation for hogging the sun loungers]. i’ve always been struck by the fact that - even though jkr considers it to be more egalitarian than the muggle world - the wizarding world is constrained by extremely restrictive gender roles.

and i am convinced [and have explored more seriously elsewhere - especially in my piece nor all that glisters gold and its notes] that one of the reasons why bellatrix is so easily radicalised into being an enthusiastic death eater is because voldemort gives her a chance to transcend the expectations placed upon her by her gender and her social class. in death (eaters) in paradise she finds herself free - for the first time in her life - of pureblood modesty standards [after all, in canon, wizarding clothes seem to cover much more of the body than contemporary muggle fashions], of the need to pretend her marriage is happy, and of the need to pretend that she isn’t a sexual creature.

in death (eaters) in paradise [as, again, i’ve explored more seriously in my piece other women and of purer blood and its notes], there’s the idea that bellatrix’s lack of interest in pregnancy - and her desire to see sex as something with value beyond society’s belief that she should want lots of children, as is her duty as a pureblood - is considered quite scandalous in the circles in which she moves. that voldemort should be the only person she knows who doesn’t think this may not initially seem to be in line with his character - but, actually, the canonical voldemort tolerates a huge amount of casual affection from bellatrix. until the last stages of deathly hallows, he allows her to be physically very close to him, to touch him, to allude to the relationship between them, and so on - and my justification for why they are a sincerely plausible couple is directly connected to this. both bellatrix and voldemort want to be really known and really understood, and they provide a level of recognition and comfort to each other which is there in canon and really fun to draw out in fan-fiction.

plus, him giving her a horcrux is - and i’ll die on this hill - weirdly romantic.

[why i always write him as an arse man is unknown to me, but good for him.]

three final points: yes, i’m aware what the real-life john lewis incident was; rookwood’s hot daughter has turned up in other women of purer blood as well, and maybe she deserves her own story; and this is the dress jane russell wears in gentlemen prefer blondes which is seared into lord voldemort’s retinas:

stunning.

[kazscrows]

Crooked Kingdom Reread

Chapter 2: Wylan

The first Wylan chapter!

Wylan’s very first thought:

What am I doing here?

That thought had run through Wylan’s head at least six times a day since he’d met Kaz Brekker. But on a night like this, a night when they were “working,” it rose and fell in his head like a nervous tenor practicing his scales: WhatamIdoingherewhatamIdoingherewhatamIdoinghere.

#relatable

Wylan watched Kaz deal another hand to Smeet, Jesper, and the other players at the round table. He wore the same sky-blue staff jacket as Wylan and his hands were bare. Wylan had to fight not to stare at them.

Imagining Kaz wearing that jacket is funny

I mean.. they have little clouds on them!

I should draw him in it

Kaz’s hands moved as if they’d been made for no other purpose than to manipulate cards…

Trickster hands…

…long white fingers flexing in easy rhythm, the shuffle precise, each turn economical. Kaz had claimed he could control any deck.

Wylan is fascinated by Kaz’s hands and you know what? That’s fair.

Me too

Wylan knew Nina could handle just about any man and any situation, but he didn’t think she should have to sit half-dressed in a drafty gambling parlor, perched on some leering lawyer’s lap. At the very least, she was probably going to catch cold.

Wylan is worried she’ll catch a cold that’s so cute 🥺

Matthias probably isn’t in the room because he’d just have steam shooting from his ears the whole four hours

And he might kill Smeet over how he’s eyeing Nina

Smeet grinned, clearly pleased. “This is nothing compared to managing a business.”

“I can’t imagine how you do that either.”

“Sometimes I don’t know myself,” Smeet said on a sigh. “It’s been a hard week. One of my clerks never came back from his holiday, and that meant I was stuck shorthanded.”

Hate to break it to you, but that clerk is definitely not coming back

Jesper rose and reached for his guns. Wylan clutched the bottle of champagne in his hands as the other players pushed back from the table, ready to grab their own weapons or dive for cover. But all Jesper did was unsling his gun belt. Gently, he laid the revolvers on the table, fingers brushing over their high-gloss ridges with care.

Poor Jesper

He’s offering up his children

…what was Jesper thinking? He loved those guns. He might as well cut off his own hand and throw it into the pot.

See? Wylan gets it

But it’s alright it’s all part of Kaz’s plan (sort of)

He tossed Wylan a cape and mask, the trappings of the Gray Imp, one of the characters of the Komedie Brute. “Let’s go.”

“Me?”

“No, the idiot behind you.”

HA

Poor Wylan constantly getting teased and mocked

Kaz rarely used his cane when they were roaming parts of the city where he might be recognized. But despite his lopsided gait, Wylan had to jog to keep up with him.

Kaz’s disability never made him weak

He’s probably also pushing through the pain because everything they’re doing is for Inej

“How is—”

“Nina is fine. Jesper is fine. Everyone is fine except for me because I’m stuck with a gang of hand-wringing nursemaids. Keep a watch.”

BAHAHAHA

Here’s Matthias

I love how Kaz knew he was going to ask after Nina

And I love how he is just so done with everyone being worrywarts

“hand-wringing nursemaids”

They’re like: Now Kaz, dear.. are you sure this will work? Is this even… safe?

He’s over it and very stressed

I love Kaz

They should have some faith in him though!

Kaz blew again, lips pursing in time with the pattern of a new command. The dogs quieted and flopped to the floor with a disgruntled whine. one even rolled over on its back.

“Now why can’t people be this easily trained?” Kaz murmured as he crouched to oblige the dog with a belly rub, black-gloved fingers smoothing the short fur.

I’m cackling

And of course the classic Kaz stops heist to pet dog scene™️

Wylan could still hear the clerk screaming as Kaz dangled him by the ankles from the top of the Hanraat Point Lighthouse. I’m a good man, he’d shouted. I’m a good man. They were the last words he’d spoken. If he’d talked less, he might have lived.

Oh I forgot Wylan witnessed this!

I started to think this was a memory Kaz had, but it was actually Wylan recounting it

And I told you that clerk was never coming back from holiday

He’s super dead

Jan Van Eck has a printing press under Wylan’s name…

This man feels me with rage

“I’m slowing you down,” he said.

Kaz flipped open another sheaf of documents. “I knew exactly how long this would take. What was your mother’s family name?

I love how Kaz just immediately proves his thought wrong

Kaz planned on needing more time to peruse the files by himself

He knew Wylan would be helpful in finding out the names things were under. He brought him along for that, not as an extra pair of eyes to read

Our thoughts can lie to us

Wait.. wait.. Wylan just said that his mom “died” when he was eight-

Wylan is.. he’s sixteen now!

You’re telling me Jan Van Eck just hid Wylan’s mom from him for eight years—

Oh my gosh—

He couldn’t go to her funeral because there was no body- She’s still alive-

“…Why do you guys say that, anyway? No mourners, no funerals? Why not just say good luck or be safe?”

“We like to keep our expectations low.”

I’ve always thought this was kind of funny

I got excited when Wylan asked this question in the show, but then Inej answered him instead of Kaz and I remember being like:

“Yay he said the thing!! And Inej.. said the other… thing ..?”

I was confused at first and then later a little disappointed because… I don’t really think it’s something Inej would say?

It just hit different than having Kaz say it

Like honestly it was kind of depressing instead of mildly humorous

It’s a little depressing when Kaz says it too but…

For a second I thought they had actually changed the answer, but really I had just forgotten Kaz was supposed to say it

Like “Huh.. that seemed wrong I guess they altered it a little”

But the quote wasn’t wrong the person was—

And this is now a very long rant for two short lines of dialogue—

Has more bullet points than my entire Joost chapter review. RIP Joost—

But it bugged me in the show okay??

Kaz never yelled the way Wylan’s father did, but Wylan had learned to listen for that low note, that bit of black harmony that crept into Kaz’s tone when things were about to get dangerous.

I’ve always loved imagining Kaz’s voice and I love how Wylan explains how it gets more dangerous sounding here

Kaz isn’t really a yeller. He doesn’t need to be loud to scare people

“…he’s been making donations to the Church of Saint Hilde for the last eight years. If you want to pay your respects to your mother, that’s probably the place to start.”

Wylan stared at Kaz dumbly in the shadowy room. He’d never heard of the Church of Saint Hilde. And he’d never known Dirtyhands to share any bit of information that wouldn’t serve him.

He’s in such disbelief that Kaz would just tell him something out of.. can this be called kindness?.. Yeah, I think so.. maybe

Does Kaz have ulterior motives for this? I honestly can’t remember…

Regardless, Kaz really does care for his own. His Crows

Oh Wylan was so sure Kaz would just kill Smeet’s daughter…

I mean he’s thinking about the lighthouse incident again

Kaz had held him by his ankles and the clerk had wet himself, screaming and begging for mercy before he’d finally given up Smeet’s whistle commands. Kaz had been about to reel him back up when the clerk had started offering things: money, bank account numbers for Smeet’s clients, and then—I’ve got information on one of the girls at the Menagerie, the Zemeni.

Kaz had paused. What do you have on her?

Wylan had heard it then, that low, dangerous note of warning. But the clerk didn’t know Kaz, didn’t recognize the change in the rough scrape of his voice. He thought he’d found a wedge, something Kaz wanted.

…

Slowly, Kaz began to let the man’s legs slide through his grasp. It’s terrible, isn’t it? Knowing someone holds your life in his hands. The clerk’s voice rose another octave as he realized his mistake. She’s just a working girl, he screamed. She knows the score! I’m a good man. I’m a good man!

There are no good men in Ketterdam, Kaz said. The climate doesn’t agree with them. And then he’d simply let go.

Kaz was actually so insane for this

Insanely hot—

But in all seriousness. Kaz doesn’t just kill people. Especially children

He was about to let this man go free right up until he realized just how rotten and disgusting of a person he was

We’ve all seen the memes that are like “Kaz is okay with murderers , but he draws the line at disrespecting women”

And we stan

Well.. I don’t actually condone murder that actually is super bad-

Don’t kill people— but…

This is just a book—

Don’t include almost the entire chapter challenge go—

Annnd I failed immediately

Kaz squat down so he could look the little girl in the eye. “What’s this big fellow’s name?” Kaz said, laying a hand on the dog’s wrinkled neck.

“This is Maestro Spots.”

“Is that so?”

“He has a very fine howl. Da lets me name all the puppies.”

“Is Maestro Spots your favorite?” asked Kaz.

She appeared to think, then shook her head.

“I like Duke Addam Von Silverhaunch best, then Fuzzmuzzle, then Maestro Spots.”

“That’s good to know, Hanna.”

Her mouth opened into a little O. “How do you know my name?”

“I know all children’s names.”

“You do?”

“Oh, yes. Albert who lives next door and Gertrude on Ammberstraat. I live under their beds and in the backs of the closets.”

“I knew it,” the girl breathed, fear and triumph in her voice. “Mama said there was nothing there, but I knew it.” She cocked her head to one side. “You don’t look like a monster.”

“I’ll tell you a secret, Hanna. The really bad monsters never look like monsters.”

Now the little girl’s lip trembled. “Did you come to eat me? Da says monsters eat children who don’t go to bed when they’re told.”

“They do. But I won’t. Not tonight. If you do two things for me.” His voice was calm, almost hypnotic. It had the coarse rasp of an over-rosined bow. “First, you must crawl into bed. And second, you must never tell anyone you’ve seen us, especially your da.” He leaned forward and gave Hanna’s braid a playful tug. “Because if you do, I’ll slit your mother’s throat and then your father’s, and then I’ll cut out the hearts of all these sweet slobbering hounds. I shall save Duke Silverhaunch for last so that you will know it’s all your fault.” The little girl’s face was as white as the lace on the neck of her nightgown, her eyes wide and bright as new moons. “Do you understand?” She nodded frantically, chin wobbling. “Now, now, no tears. Monsters see tears and it only whets their appetites. Off to bed with you, and take that useless Maestro Spots along too.”

Kaz is the boogeyman confirmed

“When she was gone, Wylan slipped out from behind the door and followed Kaz down the steps. “How could you say something like that to her? She’s just a child.”

“We were all just children once.”

“But—”

“It was that or snap her neck and make it look like she fell down the stairs, Wylan. I think I showed remarkable restraint. Move.”

I probably didn’t need to include this entire scene, but it’s always been a favorite of mine

Kaz is so scary here

And yet- he’s almost playful too

If he hadn’t threatened to kill her parents at the end it’s a mostly silly conversation

Matthias gave a high birdcall from the other end of the street. Kaz glanced at his watch and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it wildly. “Right on time.”

They rounded the corner and slammed directly into Cornelis Smeet.

Previous | Next

[nothingnowheres]

Introduction.

If you're hearing My Love Mine All Mine by Mitski playing, you have to know Rowan Burke (She/Her, Cis Woman) is near by! The 28 year old teacher has been in town for, like, six months. They're known to be quite blunt, but being outgoing seems to balance that out, or maybe it's the fact that they resemble Adeline Rudolph. Personally, I'd love to know more about them seeing as how they've got those wide smiles, loud laughs, summer sundresses, and cherry-stained lips, and maybe I'll get my chance if I hang out around Brightside long enough!

Basics.

Height: 5'9"

Age: 28

Hair color: Dark Brown

Eye color: Brown

Gender: Cis Woman

Pronouns: She/Her

Occupation: French Teacher

Extras.

Languages: English, French, Spanish, Korean

Dominant hand: Right

Siblings: Quinton Burke

Pets: N/A

Relationship status: single, but complicated

About.

[ Car accident tw, death tw, pregnancy tw ]

Born and raised in France, Rowan is the youngest of the late Silas Burke and Jisoo Choi. Although their marriage did not work out, Rowan's childhood was happy and, to some, very cushy. She was deeply loved and cherished by her father and had a great bond with her older brother. Her mother, a former model, was more like a random visitor, but Rowan liked the adventures they went on every once in a blue moon.

Oscar was one of her constants. Rowan has very few childhood memories without him. He was always close and in the background of her childhood a love story unfolded. He was her father's best friend, then a pseudo-uncle, and later her stepfather in every sense of the word except legally.

Rowan, with the support of her fathers, made the decision to attend university in the states. She traded France for California and spent the next four years of her life traveling up the California coast between final exams and term papers.

Her graduation came almost too soon. Rowan walked across the stage to the cheers of the most important people in her life: her dads and her brother.

The plan after graduation was to return to France for one last, perfect summer. For the first couple of days it was exactly that: perfect. The weather was beautiful, the wine was decadent, and there were no responsibilities.

The car accident ended the perfect summer with a funeral and a stepfather who was just a shell of the person she always knew. Suddenly, Rowan no longer recognized Oscar and maybe, in a way, Oscar no longer recognized his children in his grief.

Life, unfortunately, goes on. Rowan returned to the states for work during the winter. She struggled to find enjoyment in the hazy mists of Seattle, but her job was a distraction. Maybe, she was too distracted to realize how much Oscar was struggling -- maybe, that's why she can't fully bring herself to hate him for what he did next.

Oscar's letter was a shock. Oscar was going to return to the states; at first, it seemed like an opportunity to draw closer together, but instead they just drifted further and further away.

A few months turned to a year, then two, then four, and now six. A lot has happened in those six years, things that Rowan has only shared with Oscar in bits and pieces -- like her pregnancy.

Her child's father had been a bit of a distraction. Some light slicing through the gray, but Rowan couldn't bare the idea of telling someone casual that she was pregnant only for him to leave, too.

So, Rowan didn't tell him. She told her brother and, by letter, she told Oscar. In her third trimester Rowan began to think more about Oscar. Her father was gone, her mother was never more than a fleeting visitor, but why would she deny her baby Oscar? Why wouldn't she at least try to mend what slowly broke?

It took some convincing (tears) to get her older brother to agree to the move to Hemlock Springs; the town on all of Oscar's letters. In the end, Quinton made the move with her. That was six months ago, and it's been three since her daughter, Poppy, was born; she hopes three more months will not pass until she works up the courage to let the only father she has, the only grandfather Poppy has, back into their lives.

[barovianbitches]

Sticks and Stones - Bettany Blackstarr

“I HATE IT HERE!” Bettany screamed, The six-year-old had marched into the cottage and thrown his school bag onto the floor with a clatter. In the kitchen, Hazuleth and Arteana jumped at the commotion, turning their large feathered heads toward the arrival of their fuming son.

Hazuleth was the first to note several large welts speckled on his pale skin, Arteana was more concerned with his tattered trousers and muddied shirt. “Oh, little one, what happened?” Hazuleth asked, setting down her rolling pin as she hurried towards her son, attempting to cup his face in her hands. Bettany pouted, angrily stepping away, tears brimming in his butterscotch-golden eyes.

“I’m never going to school again!” Bettany stated, huffing before marching towards the stairs and loudly stomping to his bedroom on the second floor. The two women could hear the door slam behind him, as the ivy vines that grew around the house wilted slightly.

Arteana cast a bitter look at Hazuleth, returning to the kitchen to do the dishes. “I told you sending him to school was a bad idea.” 

Hazuleth scoffed, “He’s a sharp boy, dear, There was only so much the two of us could have taught him- he was already out-reading the two of us combined when he was four years old!” 

Arteana turned to Hazuleth, throwing her hands in the air, “his education wasn’t why I didn’t want him to go!” she snapped, “Come off it, Hazuleth! You and I both know that others find him strange!”

Hazuleth frowned, setting down her cookware once again to cross her arms and look at Arteana. “The town accepts him, everyone in the village pays him no mind, he’s our son.” Arteana hooted, “Come on, you’d have to be a bloody idiot to think that. People talk behind closed doors, dear. While they allow him to live here, there’s no doubt in my mind that they’d rather not have a little druid human boy running around in their village. The town and the elders accept him, sure, but they don’t like him.” Hazuleth clicked her beak, her feathers ruffling with annoyance, “Oh hogwash.”

The snowy owl slammed the wooden spoon she’d been scrubbing into the sink, turning towards her wife.

“It is confirmed by how the children treat him… why else would children be so cruel to another child had their parents not instilled that value in them? The children act how their parents talk behind closed doors”  Arteana insisted, “for the gods’ sake, people talk and children listen.”

Hazuleth bristled before sighing in surrender, “You’re right… It just breaks my heart to see him treated this way.” Hazuleth’s head tilted towards the ceiling where the sounds of Bettany slamming and clanking around his bedroom could be heard from above.

Arteana took a deep breath, “I’ll talk to him,” she said as she made to leave.

“No,” Hazuleth held up a taloned hand, stopping Arteana, “let me handle this, dear.”

Arteana hesitated, but eventually caved with a curt nod, returning to her task as Hazuleth began to scale the cork-screw staircase.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛯☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Hazuleth knocked softly on Bettany’s door, he didn’t respond- but the furious scuttering behind the door confirmed that he was in fact in his bedroom. Hazuleth closed her beak and turned the handle, stepping into her son’s room.

Bettany’s room was a reflection of who he was, small but vibrant. 

Projects lay strewn about in varying stages of completion. That being said, the room wasn’t in disarray, it was an organized chaos of sorts. Bookshelves lined the walls, a ladder leading to his bed which was nested atop one of the larger bookstacks near the room’s large domed window. A large plant stretched its thin rooty tendrils down from the ceiling, its berries casting a lovely golden glow.

The walls that weren't covered floor-to-ceiling with bookshelves were covered in drawings. Bettany was a shy boy and seldom shared his illustrations with anyone, they instead ended up on his walls. Charcoal sketches of plants, fungi, trees,  and various creatures Bettany had found exploring the bordering Neverwinter Wood collected in his room.

Hazuleth felt her heart swell as her eyes fell onto a picture Bettany had drawn that was clearly of himself, Arteana, and her. 

Hazuleth was quickly distracted by the sound of a large object slapping on the oak floors. Bettany had moved a large rucksack out of his closet and had begun hurling clothes, paper, leather, and anything else he could get his chubby hands on.

“I’m not going back, I give up. From now on I’m going to go live in the woods with my friends.” Bettany didn’t look at her, instead focusing on shoving multiple day’s worth of clothing into a wicker basket.

Hazuleth frowned, she knew that her son’s “friends” were a myriad of potted plants that he kept in his bedroom. These plants had grown astronomically in size, their roots curving out of their terracotta containers and curling on the floor in massive tubes, their leaves and flowers had become the size of dinner plates. Most noticeable was how the once dainty rose now filled up an entire corner of the room, its stem thick with thorns the size of longswords, the sharp points threatening to skewer anything that got close to it. Despite how nerve-racking these plants had become, Hazuleth chose to pay it no mind- this sort of thing happened when Bettany got agitated. Plants seemed to follow his lead, mirroring whatever strong emotion he was feeling.

“I understand,” Hazuleth sighed, sitting down and helping Bettany pack, much to his surprise.

“Your friends would absolutely love the open air, the fresh breeze? Oh, it’d be paradise!” Hazuleth chirped, “But I worry they might get cold… what if they get hungry and can’t find something to eat?”

Bettany froze, halting in his mission as he turned to Hazuleth, “They photosynthesize for their food.” he squeaked.  

Hazuleth nodded, “Of course, my mistake… still, what if they get lonely? What if they miss their pots and the other plants they know?” Bettany bit his lip, frowning.

“Maybe they’d realize that when things get tough it’s nice to have a place you can belong?” Hazuleth turned Bettany’s chin to face her. 

“I don’t think you’re talking about my plants anymore, Ma,” Bettany noted. “You’re such a smart boy, little one,” Hazuleth laughed, clucking as she took in her son’s big golden eyes gleaming  in contrast to his pale face and dark hair, “So handsome as well.”

Bettany’s face darkened as memories from earlier that evening returned to him, “They don’t think so… they think I’m a freak. Zombie Boy they called me… because I was almost dead when you found me. They said I still look dead, like a walking corpse…” Bettany’s eyes filled with tears as he started to pack his bags again. Hazuleth grabbed a hold of his hands, gently restraining him from further packing.

“They said I should’ve died,” Bettany whimpered, “that I’d be better off as dust.” Hazuleth felt her heart break into pieces for her boy, and she pulled him in tight, slowly rocking him back and forth in her arms.

“Oh, my child…” Hazuleth spoke over his shoulder. Her beak clicked as she pondered her response

“You make the world better, my Bettany.” Hazuleth soothed, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. He sniffed and didn’t meet her eyes until his chin was tilted up by a feathered hand. “You are strong… you are a survivor. You are anything but a corpse, you are alive, my son.” Hazuleth insisted, her eyes crinkling upwards as she gazed upon Bettany.

“You’re alive.” 

[the-indigo-writes]

(trigger warnings for death, blood, scars, and mentioned emotional and implied physical abuse.)

From the far-up window, Seraphina Summers gazed at the purple twilight and its blazing red horizon. It was unsettling to her; not the fires and the horrors of the probable end of the world, but the fact that she felt justified in letting it happen.

All the other supers were dead. It had come down to the valiant Summers family, all of them the best and the bravest at what they did. When Scott and Melissa had met, they were the most beloved and powerful supers of their day. But they had witnessed how age decayed the value of heroes, and when the public tossed someone away, they could never bring themselves to be triumphant again. So to avoid such a fate, the two agreed to craft a fake love story and begin the most legendary super family, and create a neverending legacy. Their children would be just as gifted, just as powerful, and just as willing to pass their talent to the next generation. And for Savvy, Soren, and Sterling, the plan had worked... but Seraphina held nothing supernatural in her blood, and she had no desire to bring children into such a fucked-up way of life.

Not that any of it mattered now. The battle was just beginning, and they all knew how it would end.

The elevator doors slid open behind Seraphina. Savvy stumbled out, clutching the women's father. Scott groaned as blood trickled from his forehead. A glowing alien blade protruded from his calf.

"It's true," Savvy gasped. "Their defenses are arranged completely unpredictably. They change every two hours. Access to their base is nearly impossible, and information is inaccessible due to the scrambled signal."

Seraphina did not turn. She wasn't hearing anything she didn't already know. "Find any remaining medical personnel for the old man. I'll gather everyone. It's time for last-ditch efforts."

"Look at me, Sera."

Silence. She didn't move. The fire burned green with foreign fervor.

A defeated sigh. "This is Summer Violet calling for any medical personnel. Report to the observation deck for multiple injuries..."

*~*

The six Summers huddled around unnervingly clean chairs and sofas. Scott and Soren were both heavily bandaged. The invasion had begun two days ago, and every scouting mission had been a failure. The alien enemy was gaining ground quickly. The city had been evacuated, but not without considerable losses.

"So, we draw a grave conclusion," Seraphina decided. "There is no infiltrating or breaking the ranks of enemy armies, and there is no information to be gleaned about their base, their leaders, their intentions, anything. They're a complete mystery to us, and they're kicking our asses."

"There's no way to get more outside help?" Melissa asked desperately. "No contact with teams from neighboring counties?"

"All forms of efficient communication are blocked," Soren said.

Sterling shook his head and took his mother's hand. "We need to face it," he said, softly but firmly. "There are no alternatives. We need to bring out everything we have. We need to make sacrifices."

Savvy shook her head feverishly. "Not every solution has been exhausted yet. We should-"

"Stop trying to find a way around it," Seraphina cut in. "We are at that point, friends. We have nothing else to do."

Scott sighed deeply and brokenly. "Oh, my dears. I've failed."

Tears gathered in everyone's eyes. "You are not a failure," Sterling reassured. His chest shook.

Savvy reached for Soren's shoulder. Her brother stared at the floor. "Damn this stupid world," he muttered. "Why does everyone hate it so?"

Seraphina stood watching silently. Melissa Summers looked at her youngest child. "I am so sorry."

You should be, Seraphina thought. She chose her words carefully. "I am sorry too. And I wish you could have been saved."

Scott looked away in shame.

"We had no reason to believe you," Soren argued. "We felt we shouldn't have wasted..."

"No," Sterling cut in. "No, we have to let go of our pride. Seraphina, we were wrong. We were stupidly, fatally wrong to think you would lie about something this big. We should have listened to your warning. And we are sorry enough to pay for it."

Sadness scratched at Seraphina's heart. Of her siblings, Sterling was always the nicest. They were the closest in age, and when they realized that Sera would never be what they wanted her to, Sterling refused to treat her much differently. But he was not free of all guilt.

Seraphina nodded mournfully. "Either way," she said, "It ends today."

Savvy whimpered. No doubt she was thinking about her spouse and children, and that Soren was doing the same. They had been the first to evacuate; the family needed a failsafe, after all.

"A few more tears and a few more words," Scott announced, "then we meet our fates."

*~*

Five of the six Summers floated above Eternal Sun Tower. Though each of them had slightly different gifts- speed to Melissa, pure strength to Soren, future sight to Sterling, and so on- they all had the same energy coursing through their veins, a bright streak of other-worldliness that burned destiny into their bones. And it was said that, when the force of such energy was combined. sheer force unknown to man could be displayed and erase anything in its path. Including those who wielded it.

Seraphina traced the scar on her arm where a special Super-doctor had cut her open, only to reveal that she possessed no such energy. And she remembered the years that followed; the insistence that she was still their family, followed by the teasing, the pushing, the dismissal, the drunken rages. She was a map of every bit of abuse thrown her way, and she crafted a ruthless leader from the path it had created.

The once-purple sky now grew black and empty, only to be punctuated by pure white glow, so bright and searing that it felt illegal to witness.

Seraphina watched only for a moment before turning to the self-driving car. She got in, entered the coordinates, and calmly settled in for the ride.

A scream of agony rose from the enemy hoards. Surely they were dying in unspeakable pain. Their base, their technology, their entire army, it would all be nothing very soon. And so would the legendary Summer Supers.

Seraphina exhaled as all her pain shattered into glorious sacrifice.

You were born without powers, which made you the black sheep of your superhero family. Eventually, you became the director of an agency that deals with superheroes (a la Nick Fury), and now you are the boss of the family that shunned and picked on you.