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orangerosebush · 4 years ago

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Craquelure

[ao3 link here]

From the author Myles na gCopaleen and the playwright Samuel Beckett, Artemis Fowl I had taken the names he would give to his twin sons. By naming them in this fashion, the Fowl patriarch borrowed from the wit and prosperity the writers had blessed their home country with.

And what beauty there was in those writers’ success — to be beloved for the words one scratches onto a page. That was the purest milk and honey; a writer can claim better than most that his success is the result of the magic within his mind, rather than the tools lent to him by another man or the work appropriated from another.

Years before the twins were born, Artemis Fowl I would bestow his name upon his firstborn. To give someone your name is a gift that can only be given once, and once it has been passed down, it cannot be revoked. In this sense, the process of name-giving is like cell division; where there once was only the one, now stood Artemis Fowl I and Artemis Fowl II. The creation of an heir is a second act of reproduction that produces the child — although Artemis was first born as a son, the gift of his name brought him forth into the world as the heir.

Perhaps Artemis’ own intelligence reinforced this fate. From the moment Artemis could speak, he effortlessly adopted the mien of his father. And how could he not? His was a mind, ravenous, whose desire to consume the world around him would always be whet, never cloyed. When the stream of cruelty refuses to be struck by drought, it is no wonder when a carnivorous lamb is produced.

Did this mean Artemis was wicked at his core?

No — though what he was at his core, not even he knew. The only thing that could be said with any certainty was that he was not enough his father for either of their tastes. When Artemis was a child, he’d not yet learned to treat the world as his thing to plunder, and when the water of the Murmansk Fjord rebaptized Fowl Sr.’s heart, Artemis had grown too cunning and cruel to ever fully kill the vampire he’d become. He was both too little and too much, both too early and too late to match the pace of his father’s moral waltzing.

All of this was readily apparent to Myles.

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It is a terrible thing to be born to replace another. However, Myles knew in his heart of hearts that such a statement wasn’t wholly applicable to his situation. When you replace something, you expect it to be gone forever. “Forever” was an absolute that could never apply to Artemis. Myles was nothing more than a temporary replacement, for his brother’s return had been expected.

The problem at hand had nothing to do with love.

Of course Mother and Father loved Artemis, just as they loved Myles and Beckett. If anything, Myles could quietly revel in the small victory of love, for Father, despite his best efforts to appear neutral, loved Myles more than his older brother — or at the very least, was able to love him more openly, more easily.

During the first few years of his life, Myles got to have a taste of the difference between love and a legacy. While Artemis was missing, Myles, unwittingly, played his role. It felt like the world’s most exhilarating inside joke; to know of the grand plan that was your future, unbeknownst to all the people around you who didn’t understand. Myles should have known this was never going to last, however. If Father truly believed that Artemis had died — if Father had believed in Myles — then Myles wouldn’t bear the name he currently bore. Rather than having the name of a decently respected author tacked onto him like an afterthought, he would bear the legacy of his father. He could have been, should have been, Artemis Fowl III.

(Was this an immature understanding of the depth of the grief felt over Artemis’ loss, or was it Myles’ left-over instincts from his days as the heir to be attuned to the water of his father’s crocodile tears?)

But Artemis returned.

Oh, how Myles hated him! How quickly this return relegated Myles to the role of merely being a son once more. Artemis, the prodigious-rather-than-prodigal son. Artemis, with his capacity for miracles and endless belief in his own abilities. Artemis, who when their Father talked about the past, was a figure that ambiguous represented both Artemis Fowl I and II. Artemis, who left for three years and came back with an eye that no longer resembled Father’s eyes.

Ever since Artemis returned, Myles dedicated himself to the cause of tearing down false idols — he disavowed the faulty flying machines of da Vinci just as he mocked the hypotheticals of Einstein’s Big Bang. These intellectual titans were frauds waiting to be unmasked by Myles — Myles, who held all the answers, and who wasn’t afraid to proclaim that he did.

What did the gift of getting to play with Father on uneventful Sunday mornings with Beckett matter when compared to the gift of being seen as an equal?

Perhaps the real source of Myles’ petulant rage was the fact that even more than the recognition of Father, he craved the recognition of Artemis. His older brother, his dead-and-alive sibling, his kin who was both the father and the son — Myles wanted so dearly to belong to the world of magic made possible by some unknown, special quality that seemed to suffuse Artemis with a brightness noticeable to all.

When Myles had tentatively tried to explain these sentiments to Beckett, his twin had been mystified. Beckett, who had always been more like Angeline, found the tale of fathers-sons-and-brothers inscrutable. Mystified by his brother’s frustration, Beckett had countered Myles’ confession with the facts he had available: Artemis loved the twins, and Beckett knew that Myles loved Artemis in turn. They were family, Beckett had argued, and they all loved each other — Myles simply got confused because he overthought things so often.

It was the worst response Beckett could have given. The fact that Artemis got to slide neatly back into his old life, sending the family dynamic into free-fall, wasn’t fair — Artemis shouldn’t get to just win . Every moment Artemis spent back home was a moment he was cheating Myles out of what had been his. For Myles to care for his older brother all the same… it was the most humiliating defeat he could have been served. Maybe if Myles had been born first, if he’d gotten to be the second rather than merely Myles, things would be different.

If Myles had just been allowed a fair shot, perhaps brotherhood wouldn’t feel like rivalry.

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From Ovid's "Metamorphoses" trans. Charles Martin.

Daedalus and Icarus

[Daedalus warned:] “Listen to me: keep to the middle course, dear Icarus, for if you fly too low, the waves will weight your wings down with their moisture; and if you fly too high, flames will consume them; stay in the middle and don’t set your course by gazing at the stars”…

And while [Daedalus] was instructing him in flight, he fit the untried wings to the boy’s shoulders.

…[When Icarus] audaciously began to play and driven by desire for the sky, deserts his leader and seeks altitude. The sun’s consuming rays, much nearer now, soften the fragrant wax that bound his wings until it melts. He agitates his arms, but without wings, they cannot grip the air, and with his father’s name on them, his lips are taken under by the deep blue sea that bears his name, even to the present.

And his unlucky father, now no more a father, cries out, “Icarus, where are you, where, in what region, shall I look for you?”

And then he saw the feathers on the waves and cursed his arts; he built his son a tomb in the land that takes its name from Icarus.

Daedalus and Perdix

As [Daedalus] entombs his child..., he is observed, from where a rank ditch drips, by a chatty partridge, who chirps cheerfully and makes his wing tips flutter in applause: A novel and unprecedented bird, and one who’d only lately been transformed, O Daedalus, because of a misdeed that, for a long time, will be held against you.

For, as it happened, the inventor’s sister, quite unaware of what the Fates intended, entrusted her own son[, Perdix] to Daedalus’ instruction, a likely lad of twelve, who had a mind with the capacity for principles and precepts; … Daedalus envied him, and headlong hurled this lad of precepts from a precipice, the steep acropolis Minerva loves, and lying, said the lad had slipped and fallen.

But Athena, who takes care of clever people, snatched him from harm, changed him to a bird, and covered him with feathers in midair. His former brilliance, like his former name, he kept, although the former was transformed into the swiftness of his wings and feet.

...

[note: Perdix is the word Greeks had for “partridge.”]

#My writing #artemis fowl #yes maam we post cringe on main on this blog so sorry for the confusion

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casualmaraudering · 4 years ago

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Do you have any hcs on Lyall and Hope? I’d love to know what your personal characterization of them is.

Hope comes from a very big family - she has three sisters and three brothers, and she's the youngest of the bunch. kind of chaotic with so many people at home, so she's been out and about the neighbourhood and the woods ever since she was little

Lyall has an older sister, but they're not really that friendly. they are friends, it's just usually they do their own thing without interacting much

they met when they were in their young teens and Lyall hated Hope at first

she was a bit of a troublemaker, she had a skateboard, she was bold and very much out there. Lyall was a quiet boy who very much kept to himself and he didn't appreciate the noise that came with her

ofc that didn't last long. sooner rather than later Lyall would look forward to that noisy girl driving on the pavement right below his window. and Hope loved to throw pebbles at his window just to annoy him

they started dating when Hope was 16 and Lyall 15, and they had Remus about a year, year and a half after that (shit happens, whoops)

Hope actually didn't know Lyall is a wizard until she was pregnant. he kind of panicked and whatnot. she took it well tho (and she took advantage of him having magic, of course. she came to really love that just a flick of a wand did the dishes)

despite being very young parents without much of a plan, Hope was very optimistic about the situation. they lived at Lyall's parents (Hope's family wasn't very happy about her having a baby without being married. they'd only get around when Remus is a couple years old) and yeah it was a bit cramped and a bit confusing, but they were happy together

Lyall took a job with the ministry, and Hope started studying magic theory. not something muggles would usually do, but she couldn't find anything better to do and she didn't just want to sit at home and take care of the baby

and she was quickly very brilliant and the theoretical aspect of magic. Lyall got her books, and was her lab rat in case she needed someone with magic to test her theories, but she was really good at understanding everything. she became very successful at spell creation and modification - kind of a private profession, people would come to her if they needed her services, you know the deal

they had a little secluded cabin in the woods. not that much space, but it was cosy. they had enough money to pay the bills, they weren't exactly Comfortable, but it's not like they cared. they had each other, and that was important

any money to spare, they'd put away for when Remus would be older

Lyall isn't really that good at expressing emotions. he's very much what boys were brought up to be - stern, quiet, doesn't know how to express positive feelings or love. He'd take care of Remus when Remus was a baby, yeah, but Remus would run to Hope first if needed a hug or cuddles or whatnot

but still, he's not a bad dad, he's doing his best ok. he sometimes took Remus to the ministry with him to show him around, and he was always the one to check for any monsters in the closet or under the bed. After the werewolf incident, Remus was afraid of the dark, so Lyall made him a little handmade magical lap (basically lumos in a little cute jar - & Remus added some glitter in there too)

and of course, no matter what, they both really love Remus, he's their pride and joy, despite any hardships

Hope got a motorbike from one of her siblings when Remus is around 5 years old. she loves tinkering with it, riding it (Remus and Lyall were both scared of it) - her dad is a mechanic so she loves cars and bikes. said bike will, one day, be given to a certain boyfriend of Rem's 🤔

Lyall was taught how to knit and sew by his mother and sister, so he's usually the one to fix or alter clothes. (and he'd make baby clothes for Remus sometimes, as a side project)

Hope and Remus are basically best friends. they live in the middle of nowhere so Remus has no one to talk to but his parents, so if he's not out in the woods, he'll be with his mum and dad. when it comes to Lyall, their little activity to do together is being in the woods and trying to catch fairies (usually frogs, but sometimes they'd spot some fun magical creatures)

Lyall is much more distressed about Remus going to Hogwarts than Hope is. the werewolf thing and whatnot, and he's worried Remus won't make friends, and also Remus is a part of their life and now the house will be so quiet and sad.

Remus sends them both letters, though. Hope answers for them both but Lyall keeps Rem's letters and rereads them a lot, especially during the fulls

and they're still quite young, so they also travel a bit when Remus is at school. ofc there's not much money to travel to exotic places, but even just taking hiking trips around the country, or walking through the woods

they buy a dog when Remus moves out. it's huge and white, it sheds like crazy, it barks a lot, but at least it helps a little with the void that is their son being an adult

(the next bit is more specific to my personal rem hcs - trans bi remus - so this is just free real estate for those who like that)

they don't really bat an eye when, after second year, Remus comes home with shorter hair - it's not quite down to his shoulders, but almost there. Remus very excitedly tells them about his friend, Lily who helped cut it. then he asks to be taken to the barber and get it cut shorter - "like a boy's". they don't mind either, it's just hair

Remus never grows his hair long again, and after he's back home before 4th year, he tells them everything. says he doesn't like his old name, that Remus is what he wants to be called, that he doesn't want the girls' uniform or the summer dresses.

Lyall is a bit confused at first - he slips sometimes, but he tries his best. and Hope smacks him if he happens to use the wrong name

Hope goes all out, ofc, she's just that kind of person. within a few weeks, Remus's name is officially changed, all of his clothes are replaced (most of his old ones, he gives to Lily). no matter what, she wants her boy to feel loved at home

Remus dates Lily in sixth year - Hope and Lyall can't be happier. they've both met her plenty of times, she's a lovely girl, would make an excellent daughter in law, all that. sometimes, before going to sleep, they'll jokingly talk about little ginger grandkids

in seventh year, though, Remus dates a boy. Sirius Black, who has long hair and dresses like a punk and has a tattoo and bulky combat boots. he's loud and brash and walks around with far too much confidence in his step

Lyall doesn't like him

and Hope adores him

Sirius, sooner than later, becomes a permanent addition to their little family. Remus makes it clear that they're together for the long run. Lyall doesn't like him any more than at first, but he tolerates him. Hope treats him as her second son, gives him her old bike, jokes about marriage to Remus any occasion she gets

there's plenty of times Hope and Lyall will sit in the lounge, or the kitchen, or talk before bed, and share their worries about Remus. there's just so many hardships for this boy. his identity, being a werewolf, and now dating another man. they sometimes wish there could be something to do to protect him from the world. whisk him away to their little cabin, where no one can hurt him again

but they can't do that. so they just try to be a steady support for him, no matter what he decides to do or who he is

also as much as Lyall doesn't like Sirius - he's enamoured when him and Remus have kids. Sirius has good genes, the babies are adorable with their bushy black hair and Remus freckles and stubborn little chubby faces. you can't not love them

#Lyall Lupin #Hope Lupin #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #wolfstar #minimal but still there #it turned a lot about Remus dhdkdhdj #trans remus #my tag #headcanon tag #rily #ask tag #anon tag #anyone catches the parallel of hope and Sirius and then Remus and Lyall????

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memoriashell · 4 years ago

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seashells and shores ( and something a bit more )

Characters / Pairing: Fukawa Touko / Naegi Komaru, ensemble class 78; varyingly background / implied ships are sakuraoi / ishimondo / celeschi / naeleogami

crossposted on ao3

Notes: a very late day 3 for @tokomaruweek. beach prompt! yesterday i was feeling a little burnt out so i decided to not write since i didn’t want to put out something half assed. hopefully this being a bit longer helps make up for it! ( and by a bit, i mean i basically doubled the word count compared to what i’ve done for this week so far lmao rip so much for hoping i’d catch up tonight )

rated t for touko's trauma. and also for junko having her tits out. thanks junko.

anyways tw for like trauma, the general self-depricating / self-concious stuff for toko but also like. her trauma w/ water is brought up since it's. beach? and also drowning doesn't actually happen but it is brought up. and touko mentions claustrophobia in relation to her trauma offhandedly once, and again, just generally feeling insecure.

also it's kinda implied that chihiro and celes are both trans thank you!!!

Summary: going to the beach isn't exactly an exciting thought for her, given the fact she has no desire getting in the water.

komaru seems dead set on making sure she makes some memories anyways.

Do you want to come to the beach with us? That is the first text of the morning that she receives, courtesy of Makoto Naegi. Touko considers asking who he means by us, gathers that he probably means some assortment of their classmates, and ( while it is very tempting to say yes ) concludes that she can safely say no. And she intends to do exactly that, but she gets a set of texts that stops her from being able to do so.

touko-chan!!!!

ur coming with us, right?

you should come with us!

itll be fun!

So Komaru would be there too— their...friendship is odd, all things considered. Not that the knowledge of knowing she’d be there makes the offer any more tempting, but she bites her lip and considers what to say. Not that there’s really much of a question, just keep it blunt and to the point as per usual. No point in sugar coating things.

I’m busy. Maybe next time. She’s not that busy, current manuscript aside. Not that Touko intended on ever not being busy. It’s not her fault that Komaru is too dense to take a hint.

awww :(

pls?

if u don’t wanna get in the water, ill make sure they’ll leave you alone. im sure you won’t be the only one that doesnt want to!!

Ah. She might have to ( partially ) retract her statement on Komaru being dense. Had she figured out her reluctance without her even mentioning it, or had that just been a lucky guess? Maybe it was just Makoto’s luck rubbing off on her...

i understand if you don’t want to come

and i’ll leave u alone if u rlly dont wanna come.

but it wont be as much fun without you there :(

Urgh. Yeah, this girl doesn’t understand a thing, does she? She’s probably not even realized the impact her words have on her. Touko grumbles under her breath, but figures she should respond before Komaru sends another text begging trying to convince her.

Fine.

I’m not going in the water, though.

If this goes horribly wrong, I’m blaming you.

That is a lie. Even if worst comes to worst and Syo feels the need to front for her, she won’t hold it against her. She’s the one who agreed, after all. It’s just one last attempt at offering her an out. To change her mind. Like she should. But Komaru is nothing if not stubborn, so she doesn’t really expect that offer to be taken up on. She starts making a mental checklist of what she probably needs to take with her, doesn’t get very far into that list because Komaru’s response is nearly instantaneous.

yayayayay tnk u touko-chan ily!!!!!! :D

we’ll pick u up k????

ur staying @ the place near the dorms right? see u soon!! ♡♡

Touko grimaces at the butchering of language that is Komaru’s texting ( and ignores her own fluttering heart upon seeing the casual hearts sprinkled in at the end ), and sends back, If you love me, fix your grammar.

The car ride over is mostly uneventful. In that she means she feels like she’s going to have a headache before they even get there and Makoto keeps giving her a sympathetic look. In other words, she’s learned that Komaru and both Asahina siblings should not be left to entertain themselves for the hour-long car ride, but the only silver lining here is that it was only an hour-long ride and hopefully they would be tired out for the ride back.

The highlight of the hour was that even if it’d been a tight squeeze in the backseat, that meant she’d been ( somewhat ) uncomfortably sandwiched between the door and Komaru herself. She’s a little surprised that it doesn’t set off her claustrophobia, but reckons that might just be because it’s too bright to remind her of being locked in a closet. And also because Komaru is generally distracting in close proximity, from the way she’d been halfway sitting on her lap, to the faint scent of what Touko figures to be her shampoo.

She also considers it a victory that she did not dissociate in the midst of that, but probably only because Komaru kept checking on her and apologizing for how close they are: she’d had to bite her tongue several times from saying something harsher than she’d really mean. She doesn't hate Syo, but probably counterintuitive to let them front today: whether they are aware of this, or simply just disinterested in trying to front right now, she is thankful. If nothing else, she would consider this some kind of learning moment. Maybe. Something to draw inspiration from?

Still, once she’s free from the confines of the car, she can actually relax a little— or does for all of two seconds before Komaru has grabbed onto her free hand and started dragging her towards the loud group that she recognizes as her class. Yuta and Aoi had bolted out of the car the moment they’d come to a stop to race to the waters ( she can’t imagine being that athletic and feels tired watching them ). Touko gazes back longingly at the confines of the car and the consideration that she might’ve been able to isolate herself there, but her grip’s pretty tight on her hand. Which is nice, and distracts her from thinking about escaping until it's way too late, and she’s forced to look at the group before her, and—

Slaps a hand over Komaru’s eyes with a groan. “Enoshima, wh-what the fuck, you—” She holds off on the ( derogatory ) word she wants to say, and just scowls at the sight before her. “This isn’t a...a nude beach? Are you t-t-trying to get us in trouble or something?” Granted she’s not technically completely nude, but also more revealing than she should be. Seriously, she would’ve figured that Ishimaru would’ve already told Enoshima off already because what else is he good for ( then again, he is single-handedly the only person who would probably take no real issue with it, or be naively convinced by her that it wasn’t really a problem, so maybe she really shouldn’t be that surprised ).

Enoshima cackles at her. “Don’t be a prude, Fukawa! Or are you jealous? I’m just trying to get a sick tan.” While she’s at it, where the hell is Ikusaba to keep her sister in check? Whatever, that’s not really important, and she refuses to dignify that with a response given that Enoshima probably only wants to get a rise out of her.

Instead, she makes sure to put a decent distance between them before removing her hand from over Komaru’s eyes with a huff. “Urgh, honestly...what on earth m-made her think that was a, a good idea?” She grumbles, glancing around now that she doesn’t have to stare directly at...that.

Actually, now that she looks around, the only seemingly responsible person from their class currently present was Oogami— and honestly, she seems too busy being in love with her girlfriend to count ( if it wasn’t kind of heartwarming, she’d probably be disgusted. Not in a homophobic way, in a general ew PDA sort of way ). As for any else viably responsible: Kirigiri being absent wasn’t a surprise, Fujisaki’s too soft to really keep people in check, Byakuya is...his own entirely separate category, and she would rather die than count Hagakure as responsible in any capacity. And Makoto might be a voice of reason, but she’s pretty sure he’s utterly useless here. Which is probably a horrible sign of things to come, but what else did she expect from anything involving her peers?

“You don’t want to go in the water, right?” Komaru’s voice cuts in through her thoughts, watching her closely before taking her hand to start pulling her along then. “We should set up somewhere to sit, then!”

We? She thinks, but instead attempts to free her hand from her grip and voices, “...Don’t you want to go in th-the water with the rest of them? You don’t have to, uh, to stay with me, you know. I’m not a k-k-kid.”

Her expression looks conflicted. “Well, yeah, of course I do want to! But only for a bit, probably? I mean, it’d be kind of rude to leave you alone since I asked you to come?”

She ignores the way her stomach twists at that, and purses her lips. “Technically s-speaking, Makoto asked first. You aren’t— it’s not rude of you to want...to want to have some fun without me. I know I’m n-n-not fun to stick around.” She knows she wouldn’t want to stick around herself if she had the choice. “It’s not like, like I wasn’t prepared for th-that.”

“Yeah, but— that’s the thing. You shouldn’t be! And I want to spend time with everyone, and that includes you too.” And now she’s sulking. God. Fukawa is about to growl back something she’ll probably regret saying, but is saved from doing so by a much calmer voice interrupting, having overheard their argument.

“Why don’t you go join your brother for a bit? Fukawa-san can join us if she would like to. We have an extra seat.”

Celes looks hot— and she means that in a very literal sense ( mostly ), decked out in one of her usual frilly black dresses. She looks out of place in the hot summer heat. Touko is also not sure where and how she managed to get a table out here ( and tea, apparently, and you know what she’s just not going to question it ), but Fujisaki is already pulling out the extra seat in offering, and she sighs reluctantly. Better this than feeling like she’s holding Komaru back.

“G-G-Go. Or...or I’ll let Syo toss you in the water.” Not really a threat - if anything, Syo would dive bomb into the water with her. Argh, maybe she should’ve just let them front today...

( No, no she shouldn’t have. The only person currently present that Syo would’ve mostly listened to would be Komaru— and maybe Makoto or Fujisaki if they were feeling generous— which is an entirely different set of issues she doesn’t want to linger on. Needless to say, she doesn’t particularly want Syo to cause chaos today )

Touko is saved from having to argue further with her on this because as Komaru opens her mouth to protest, Yuta comes to steal her away, blabbering on about something about a game they should play: and while he’s definitely as oblivious as his sister, she’ll consider that a good thing, just this once. The only words Komaru manages to get in is to ask Toko to keep her bag for her, which she would’ve done anyways, picking it up from where she’d dropped it. She watches them wander off ( and only looks away when Komaru starts discarding the clothes she’d been wearing over her swimsuit ) before trudging over to sit next to Fujisaki, who flashes her a small smile as she types away on her laptop.

“I am surprised you came, Fukawa-san. You do not seem like the type for these activities. You are usually quite disinterested in participating in these kinds of things, in fact. Did something change?” Ugh. This is why Touko hates being around Ludenberg. Because she’s observant, generally only bested by Kirigiri in that regard, and is generally good at picking people apart when it comes to lies and acts and fronts ( though Touko would argue this is from personal experience, and not from being a gambler ). And this fact would have irritated her, quite honestly, if she had not self-sabatoged herself by taking it as an insult, instead.

“I-I-I get it. No one really wants...wants me here. That’s what you meant, right...? You don’t have to r-remind me.” She grits her teeth. If nothing else, when she isn’t busy lying, Touko can appreciate her honesty. The tiny hand that wraps around her wrist stops her from saying anything further, even if it doesn’t take much to wrench her arm out of Fujisaki’s grasp: but she gets the feeling she is only able to do so because she isn’t actually trying to hold on too tightly.

“I’m sure th-that’s not what she meant, Fukawa-san...” Ever quick to play peacekeeper, she supposes. Touko simply grumbles at her and rolls her eyes. “...Especially since not everyone was available today, it’s nice that you were able to join us!”

“Yes, it is a shame. I would have liked for Yamada-kun to have been able to help with my tea, today.” Celes sighs as if disappointed— really? That’s what she’s on about?

Touko does a second look at who is not currently gathered, and denotes, “Is Maizono st-still out on tour...?” She thinks Komaru had mentioned something like that in passing.

“Yes! Maizono-san is on tour, Yamada-kun is at an important convention, Ikusaba-san, she’s...doing some kind of training...? I think Kirigiri-san is supposed to be on the tail end of a rough case, and...” Here Fujisaki pauses to giggle into her hand. “I sh-shouldn’t really laugh at this really, but Ishimaru-kun got sick. Oowada-kun had to force him to rest since he had been trying to work through it and made it worse for himself... or so that’s what I was told.”

Oh, so that’s the reason she hasn’t heard the loudmouths today? She might take back her sentiments on Ishimaru being useless, but he’s on thin fucking ice. Of course the overachiever would get sick during the summer holidays— apparently, she’s not alone in that thought.

“Only Ishimaru-kun would get sick during vacation and still manage to find a reason to not take a break.” Celes rolls her eyes, but Touko gets the feeling she’s amused too.

“So wh-what you’re saying is, uh, is that Oowada’s going to get sick next...right? I guess— we’ll find out if idiots get s-s-sick or not.” Touko quips— which earns a softer laugh from Fujisaki, so that’s pretty good.

Of course, it wouldn’t be like her if she didn’t put her foot in her mouth almost immediately afterwards by asking why they aren’t going in the water: she’s not really surprised because Celes rarely participates in gym ( and coming from Touko that says a lot ), but she was pretty sure Fujisaki wasn’t that self-conscious of herself. Not as much? Not that she really has any place to talk in that regard.

“Well, we already went to the beach at the start of the summer holidays! I’m not really missing out on anything, and it’s probably not my last opportunity to go during this break anyways.” And then, a little more sheepishly. “...Also I’m close to making a breakthrough on this code, I think. I wanted the fresh air, but I don’t really think I can afford to take much of a break right now.”

“She would have stayed on the train if I did not warn her we were approaching our stop, I believe. And not all of us can be like Enoshima. The brazenness of that woman is truly something else.” Touko is not sure if she says that from a place of respect or fear, and honestly she relates. And also doesn’t say any further on the subject because Celes gives her a dirty look.

Her gaze goes back out to their peers— she is pointedly avoiding needing to look at where Enoshima is— and spots Komaru and Yuta splashing around with Aoi and Oogami. Well, it looks like just splashing at least, from where she’s at. And Hagakure, who really just looks like an out-of-place sea cretin with the way his hair floats on the water’s surface, so. There’s that?

( No, she’s not at all envious of the fact that all of them get to have fun because they don’t have crippling fears: the ocean does not instill the same fear of confinement that a cramped bathtub does, but fear— there is still the fear that something will tug her down and her body will simply let herself dragged underneath out of instinct, a fear of something worse if she tries to fight for survival— )

Focus. She can feel the way her breath catches a little, the uneasy way her heart beats and concentrates on calming down. She doesn’t seem to have gotten Syo’s attention yet, nor anyone else’s, thankfully. She’ll just...watch Komaru for now, yeah. It takes a moment to relocate her, head breaching from underneath the water and surfacing like...like one of the sea’s legendary enchantresses. She means that in a wholly respectful way, of course, watching the way she shakes the water from her hair, mouth open in a wide grin while she laughs. Touko doesn’t need to hear her to know that on the sole basis of her appearance— the bright look in her eyes is enough to say she is happily enjoying herself without her.

On that note, hm. Maybe she can use some of that for the basis of her next novel— something about a siren and a lady visiting the sea? Tragic romances are always a hit, aren’t they? Okay maybe a tragic lesbian romance is more self-projection, but that's besides the point. No one has to know its self-projection if people eat it up like anything else that has her name on it.

Or maybe you need to talk to a therapist more often? Syo contributes helpfully, apparently having become more conscious at some point. Maybe her panic hadn’t gone as unnoticed as she thought. Not that they’re wrong, but talking to a therapist isn’t exactly going to help with her gay pining ( unfortunately, she wishes it were that simple ).

Yeah, that’s not something she really wants to linger on, and as if Celes can read her mind, says, “How do you ladies feel about a bet?”

“Pass.” Touko says immediately, because she is arguably far from a smart person, but she is smart enough to know to not take her chances against the ultimate gambler. Celes ignores her.

“You see, I would bet that Komaru—”

“No. We’re leaving h-her out of it.” Toko interrupts, and Fujisaki ( thankfully, like the god sent angel she is, even if she seems too good to be real ) nods her agreement.

“I don’t think Naegi-kun would be really happy if he heard us talking about his little sister like that...” Her reasoning is fair, if nothing else.

“Fine. Do you think Naegi-kun is going to interfere on Togami-kun’s behalf, or help Kuwata-kun?” A painted fingernail points out the trio by the sea. Kuwata seems pretty intent on forcing Togami into the sea, suit and all, much to his disdain. The duo is yelling, probably. On the other hand, Makoto just looks like he doesn’t know whose side he’s supposed to be on here.

In the end, it doesn’t matter because by some luck ( or lack thereof ) Togami manages to trip on a washed up stone and ends up taking the other two boys down with him. The heir doesn’t even look all that mad, really, as Kuwata dunks him back under the water in retaliation: she knows what his angry face is, and that is not it, even if it looks kind of like he’s swallowing a lemon.

Or maybe that’s just her and her sour mood feeling like she’s swallowed several lemons raw because Touko doesn’t know how to make lemonade out of all the citrus life has handed her.

“By the way Fukawa-san, about Komaru—” Celes starts, but is interrupted by Komaru’s sharp yelling, which is followed by the wet feeling of her arms wrapping around her. Touko frowns, pushing her away.

“You’re w-wet.” She states the obvious as she makes a face, not that that seems to stop her. “Are you...you're done going in the water f-f-for now?”

“Mhm! It’s too cold in the water, honestly. You’re nice and warm.” Komaru hums happily, and she grabs a towel from her bag to wrap her up in it before she ends up being the next sick kid. “I was thinking we could maybe spilt a snack...? And then we could make a sandcastle! Asahina-san was telling me about shells she saw earlier that we could use?” Touko bites back a small snort at how childish she sounds.

“Yeah, yeah— let go of me, s-so I can get up...” She agrees, ignoring the curious way Celes’ watches their interactions. She mutters something that passes for a thanks before she leaves ( not that she thinks Fujisaki notices at that point, full enraptured by her laptop screen ).

By snack, Touko realizes that this is more of a way of making sure she eats lunch— Syo had not so accidentally let it slip once that when she gets caught up on things, she has the tendency to skip meals. She bites her tongue on saying that it wasn’t necessary and instead pays for their meal because she can do that, she has the money to spare for that kind of thing: and she knows she doesn’t need to, but sometimes she feels like she needs to make it up to her before Komaru gets sick of their friendship.

And if it comes off like a date, that’s simply just coincidence.

When they return to the shore, Komaru drags her off to an area a little more secluded— she doesn’t really realize this at first, simply accepting her fate to follow along, but notices she can’t really hear anyone else. It helps her relax, feel like she doesn’t need to be so guarded.

( It doesn’t stop Touko from briefly complaining about how sandy she’s going to get because of this, which is annoying. And then immediately shuts up because Komaru offers to let her borrow her clothes, and she has nothing coherent that she can say to that. She eventually manages to spit out a no when it becomes obvious Komaru is waiting for her to say something )

“Well, okay then. You can always let me know if you change your mind.” She says, then, “Oooh, Touko-chan! It looks like there are tide pools over here!”

Komaru leaves her to pick out shells for them to use while she does the dirty work of constructing a sand castle. “So you won’t end up too sandy,” she explains. “And I trust your eyes to pick out nice shells.” She can’t really complain— although she almost makes a scathing comment about the fact that her eyes can't really be trusted when she wears glasses— and just keeps away from the waves for the most part. The water laps at her feet while she lingers around the tide pool, and then returns with the fruits of her search.

It’s...not an awfully constructed sand castle. Well, that’s probably more than a little generous to say. You know, if she was going to compare it to something kids made. As it stands ( or doesn’t, if Touko is being honest ), it’s probably not the most...concretely built and looks like part of the base might fall apart at any moment, but doesn’t say anything as she dumps an assortment of shells at her feet. And then pulls out a towel, so she can sit and watch her work. It feels like there’s another problem with this, but she can’t quite place what it is; it’s probably not important enough to point out.

Going back to the novel idea: maybe it’s not about a siren after all. Maybe it’s about a sea princess instead. A lonely girl drowning in the waters called home, in a lonely castle, and—

“Here you go!” Komaru plops a shell into her hand with no warning and beams at her. “It’s nice and pretty just like you, Touko-chan. So you should keep it!”

She definitely doesn’t almost tear up upon hearing that, swallowing thickly as she bites back a self-deprecating, Are you sure it’s not just ugly like me? Instead, she picks out a small shell from the pile and holds it out to her.

“...H-H-Here. Completely plain and, and average like you.” And cute, but that’s not important. Still, Komaru looks like she’s actually said something of worth as she throws her arms around her neck.

“Thank you! I’ll take good care of it.” She acts like she’s given her a houseplant or something of actual value, and not a shell.

Stiffly— because she still really doesn’t know how to respond in these kinds of moments, despite being friends for a few odd months now— Touko pats her back and mutters, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It is!” Komaru pouts at her. “It is to me. Isn’t that enough?”

She opens her mouth to point out that she’d really just been reciprocating a gesture, but the wave crashing over them interrupts the conversation— oh yeah, she thinks absently. That’d been the other problem that she’d noticed when Komaru had started building, but hadn’t thought it was a big enough issue to point out.

Once she processes that yes, that happens, her first thought is how cold she is now, soaked to the bone. Touko represses a shudder and tries to ignore the fact that she will need to shower later because salt water gets itchy. The second thing that occurs to her, in the midst of this, is that now Komaru is wailing into her shoulder.

“I should’ve been more careful, I’m sorry Touko-chan! You’re okay? You aren’t upset, are you? I thought th—” Touko leans forward to cut her off. Her lips taste like salt, and vaguely reminiscent of the sweet snack Komaru had coaxed her into splitting. She wants to bite down on her lip, a nervous habit, and pulls back before she can accidentally manage to bite the other’s lips instead. The implications of that are a lot more than she’s willing to handle right now, and averts her gaze as soon as she leans back, so she does not have to acknowledge her actions.

That doesn’t stop Komaru from throwing her arms around her a little too eagerly, a grunt at the impact of their bodies colliding. “Too m-much.” Touko manages to wheeze out, and before she can start apologizing again, follows with, “I’m not upset. I should probably just...just buy something overpriced from one of th-the nearby shops since our clothes are soaked now...”

She takes this in fairly good stride, jumping to her feet and pulling her up by her hands. “Can I pick out an outfit for you? It’ll be fun!”

Their ideas of fun are very different quite frankly, but considering Komaru won’t overthink her appearance like she does, thus meaning it’ll be more time efficient. And quite frankly, she’s tired, so she just agrees. On the condition they can just go take a nap in the car afterwards.

Touko doesn’t quite agree with Komaru’s fashion choices, but she picks out clothes that cover up everything that needs to be hidden, so she can’t exactly complain. Nor does she complain when they do less napping and more snuggling in the backseat. Which means on the ride back, Komaru ends up falling asleep on her shoulder. She thinks about how pretty she looks in the light of the sunset.

Maybe she can rethink her next novel being a romantic tragedy.

#tokomaru week 2021 #toukomaru #tokomaru #komaru naegi #toko fukawa #touko fukawa #danganronpa #* zhi writes

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pffbts · 4 years ago

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＊ legends : [ ☼ ] - fluff | [ ♛ ] - smut | [ ☾ ] - angst

Note: this list will be updated every often to let you, as readers, know the progress of the pieces i`m currently working on. if any question, you can ask me here anytime or send me a dm over my twitter.

↳ masterlist & ao3

「 B T S 」

✎SERIES: [NONE]

✎FICS/DRABBLES:

[ ☼ ][ ☾ ] [ ♛ ] synopsis: a brief ten days account of two siblings who meet their day’s end at the dinner table every night.

genre―slice of life; humour; comfort; sibling!au

characters―older brother!kim seokjin x younger sister!reader | no supporting character.

based on: the j-drama boku no neechan (literal trans: my sister).

w.c―(...)

warnings―none.

status―(writing...)

「 S E V E N T E E N 」

✎SERIES:

[ ☼ ] [ ☾ ] [ ♛ ] what if we lived in the same town | ot13

↬synopsis: there are 13 boys who lives in your town where each of them have each of their own colours. some you know in person & some from afar so one day you sat down deciding to describe each of their colours absorbing all of their goodness and all of their flaws. you wondered what if someone in some other town ever thought of questioning when they looked at these boys, that―what if we lived in the same town?

status: one member`s chapter every two weeks till all 13 of them are done.

seungcheol ✓

jeonghan ✓

joshua ✓

junhui ✓

soonyoung

wonwoo ✓

jihoon

seokmin ✓

minghao (writing 40%)

mingyu ✓

seungkwan

chan

vernon ✓

[ ☾ ] [ ♛ ] [ ☼ ] Lie Again | gangster ✗ bikers au!

synopsis: after returning to your childhood town 10 years later, you found the once bright streets & bustling town under the warm orange shade of sun turn completely into a place which only exists in those thriller movies you watched for the sake of the adrenaline rush. this town has been now been infiltered by the Crimson Saints, a bikers gang lead by kwon soonyoung―the newly appointed leader after the mysterious death of the previous one―choi seungcheol, also widely known as the founding member of Crimson Saints. nobody`s really sure about how he died but soonyoung has always been the closest one to hang out with him. a new member gets recently added named jeon wonwoo, known as one of the top student of the most prestigious school of the town. a sudden change from the maternal side of the jeon household taunts wonwoo to join the gang but tension always appear in the air between soonyoung & wonwoo whenever they`re in one single space which really didn`t prickle anyone`s skin until―you come in.

characters: soonyoung x oc x wonwoo | support: choi seungcheol.

chapters: 1 ; 2 ; 3 ; 4 ; 5 & more [undecided]

w.c: n/a.

warnings: mention of alcohol & death ; blood & gore ; use of vulgar language sometimes & [more undecided]

status: [on hold]

✎FICS/DRABBLES:

[ ☼ ][ ☾ ][ ♛ ] If I Get To Meet You (ghost!au)

synopsis: the rumor has it that an young man`s ghost lives in the town`s oldest library―which also seems to be the closest one to your home. as a renowned bookworm of your family of a loving father and two elder brothers, you decide that you`ve had enough of reading the same books on repeat at your school library & so you walk out of your home one afternoon to visit the town`s oldest library to find new books to read and partly, to debunk the rumors which sounded quite silly to your ears.

characters: ghost!lee seokmin x reader | support: kim mingyu & jeon wonwoo.

w.c: (counting...)

warnings: mentions of death ; thoughts on self-harm.

status: [10% written + on hold]

[ ☼ ][ ☾ ][ ♛ ] Here I Am, Again. (guardian!angel au)

synopsis: after being unemployed for almost two years―vernon, now not exactly a rookie angel by years but experience gets assigned to his first ever job & i.e to be a guardian angel to you, but as much as he was highly anticipating his first job even though it wasn`t quite his nature to be enthusiastic or show a lot of emotions on the outsides (which is also the very reason he wasn`t compatible being a guardian angel to anyone before), he was shunned when he first saw you. turns out, he didn`t really expect to meet you, yet again.

characters: guardian angel!vernon x reader | support: n/a.

w.c: (counting...)

warnings: mentions of death.

status: [10% written + on hold]

「 A T E E Z 」

― Nothing yet.

#a:pffbts #koyel`s wips #don`t reblog!

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3hobbitsinatrenchcoat · 4 years ago

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Under the Same Roof

I wrote two things for @halogalopaghost because I couldn’t decide between two concepts. Here’s the first one. I hope you like it.

Also on AO3

-----

Stanley Pines can always tell when his niece has some sort of plan up her wide knitted sleeves. She's never been one to hide her feelings and keep secrets, so the little twitches she does when she's trying not to spoil a surprise are always amusing.

For the past couple weeks Mabel has been flitting about the shack, working on various knitting projects but hiding most of them when her grunkles enter the room. It's endearing but a dead giveaway that she is plotting something. Dipper is no more forthcoming than his sister, though he sweats and rubs the back of his neck in his own nervous way when pressed. Stan also catches him whispering into the phone more than once, which is concerning but not entirely out of the ordinary.

They do manage to keep their mouths shut though, which Stan finds to be an admirable character trait. He loves a good surprise, even if he can see it coming from miles away.

On the other hand, Ford approaches the younger twins like he does his mysteries and it is starting to drive Stan a little nuts.

“What do you think Mabel is making for us?” He asks on the morning of their birthday, flopping down beside his brother on the worn porch couch. Stan levels him with an unimpressed stare and sips his coffee in silence. “Not even a guess, Stanley? I would have thought you would be excited by the prospect.”

“I am,” Stan lowers his can and bumps his shoulder against his brother's. “But until she tells us or gives it to us, we shouldn't ruin the surprise for ourselves. She's already trying so hard to keep it a secret, why make it harder?”

Ford frowned at his brother, who had always been the first one to scour the house for birthday present clues as a kid. He'd pulled Ford into many secretive late night escapades looking for mysterious boxes and hidden packages. But now his twin sat completely at ease with not knowing, their birthday swiftly approaching.

Stan glances at him out of the corner of his eye and sighs, slumping a little farther into the well-worn couch. “You're thinking of tearing through the house in Glass Shard looking for those books Ma bought us too, aren't you?” At Ford's nod he chews his lip and tears his eyes away. “I know we didn't get a lot of presents as kids but it was fun to find them and then act surprised. That... kind of lost its appeal after I... well, lets just say getting a nice surprise now and then made me really appreciate the simple things.”

Stan neglects to mention the way Ma had snuck him a few dollars in the mail for birthdays on the road and how even though he knew it was coming he teared up every time. He doesn't mention how much it hurt that first birthday after the portal, after he'd faked his own death, to get a book in the mail with a note that said “I was going to send this book to your brother too this year.” He'd stopped looking for what the surprises would be and started accepting that they would come. She'd sent something every year after that. Stan never asked for a hint and she never gave one, but he always had a feeling...

“Shit.” Stan sits up with a start and rummages through his pockets for his phone. “Did we tell Ma we were back on land for our birthday this year?”

“No, but a mother always knows,” comes a voice from the doorway and twin sets of eyes snap up to meet the fond gaze of Caryn Pines. She's smaller than either of them remember her ever being but she's standing in the doorway of the shack with a watery smile on her face.

“Ma?” Stan's voice breaks and then he's hurtling off the couch to gather his mother into his arms. “Why... how are you here?” He feels Ford come up behind him and he backs off so his brother can hug their ma as well.

Caryn reaches out and ruffles both her her sons' hair affectionately. “Did you think I'd miss your first birthday together again after all these years? I'm not so old yet that I can't get on a plane and cross a country for family.” Her smile turns mischievous. “Besides, it gave Shermie another excuse to come up. We got in a few minutes ago and the kids said you two were out here.”

“Shermie's here?” say Stan and Ford together, though Ford sounds excited and Stan's voice is full of trepidation. They haven't managed to get down to Piedmont yet to see their sister and now she's here and she'd promised to kick Stan's ass.

“Uhh... I gotta go do some stuff,” says Stan hastily, backing away from the doorway. He gets about two steps away when he turns around into a wall of solid and familiar muscle.

“Going somewhere, Stanley?” growls his sister's voice and Stan swallows very hard. Ford stifles a laugh and Stan feels his sister's gaze snap towards him as the laugh breaks off into a strangled choke. “You're next, Stanford. Don't think I've forgotten you.”

Even in her 70s and wearing something as nonthreatening as one of Mabel's sweaters (“I put the Grand in Grandma”) and a summery skirt, Shermie Pines towers over her younger brothers. She hauls them both bodily out into the yard and gives them a sound tongue lashing while their mother steals their spot on the couch and nods along, sipping on a mug of coffee she procured from somewhere. Maybe one of the kids brought it out but Stan is too preoccupied with the dressing down his sister is dealing him to really notice.

“... been back a whole year and you haven't visited family in all that time?” She's yelling now, eyes flashing with fury. “I know you've been calling but for fucks sake, a visit wouldn't have been amiss!” Stan can count on one hand the number of times he's seen his sister cry, but tears are starting to track down her cheeks as she waves her arms in the air. She pauses to suck in a ragged breath and then she's launching herself at them. Both twins flinch, expecting the first blow but it doesn't come. Instead she pulls them into a rough hug, nearly knocking all three of them off their feet. “I've missed you two dumbasses. Even if I did see one of you occasionally.”

Her brothers return the hug, tears gathering in their own eyes. “Sorry, Sherm.” says Stan at last, pushing away from his siblings to swipe a hand over his face. “We figured we'd better get used to each other again before inflicting ourselves on the rest of the family.”

“Inflict...” starts Shermie, ire rising again, and Stan holds out his hands placatingly. She takes a couple deep breaths and then lays a heavy hand on each of her brother's shoulders. “You two are family. I'm sorry you ever thought you would be a burden to us.” Shermie catches the flinch on Stan's face and a wince crosses her own. “Now or in the past, little brother.” She heaves a sigh and shakes off the somber mood threatening to overtake them. “Now, today is a day of celebration! You've made it around the sun another year and this time you managed to do it together!”

Shermie herds them back towards the shack, past their ma who still sits casually sipping coffee on the couch like she's always belonged there, and through the door into the kitchen. The space is peaceful in the morning sunlight for about ten seconds before all hell breaks loose.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” shrieks Mable as she careens out of her hiding spot just beyond the doorway. Dipper pops up from behind the kitchen table with a grin and pulls a party popper full of tiny streamers that somehow manage to cover the whole space. Shermie pushes her brothers forward and they have just enough time to brace themselves before they are hit with the force of their niblings sprinting into their arms.

Caryn made her way in from the porch and laid a hand on each of her boy's heads, smiling down at them and the younger twins. Behind her, Shermie gently lays her own hand on her mother's shoulder.

“It's been too long since we had all my children under one roof,” says Caryn with a smile. “I'm glad it's for something as special as a birthday.”

Stan feels his breath catch in his throat and he breaks away from the children long enough to throw his arms around his mother. A few minutes later Ford and Shermie are wrapped around the both of them and he hears the distant sound of a camera shutter click.

“Scrapbookortunity!” says Mabel in a delighted half-whisper before reaching over to high-five Dipper.

The rest of the day passes in a haze of presents and cake presided over by a gathering of family Stan never thought he would witness again.

It's perfect.

-----

Some things that I wanted to include that didn't fit:

Shermie Pines is trans. Transitioned late in life and kept the "Shermie" nickname as her legal name. Is also ripped af and could probably break both her brothers in half if she really wanted to.

Mabel made matching sweaters for the Grunkles that say "Birthday Grunk" on them. Stan's has a tiny question mark on it and Ford's has a tiny beaker.

#gravity falls #my writing #pines family feels #stanley pines #stanford pines #you can pry caryn pines still being around out of my cold dead hands #idk how else to tag this tbh

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save-the-spiral · 4 years ago

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Wiztober Day Eleven: Darkness

Welcome to day eleven of Wiztober! One character is pointedly not named. I don’t like writing down or coming up with deadnames for trans characters, it makes me extremely uncomfortable (though they are misgendered, it’s from the perspective of people who don’t know they’re trans, or the character themself doesn’t know they’re trans). My first time writing more about actual cultures, and also a trans femme character more in depth. Feel free to send an ask and correct me if need be. (ALSO. I can explain the names in another post. the intersection of culture and gender comes into play). My content warning are specific but! they need to be. Sorry if it’s awkward! some things would be specifically upsetting to me if faced with them out of the blue, and I’d like to note them.

Content warnings for perfectionism forced upon children from their parents, physical and verbal bullying, ableism (towards a ‘weird’, not openly autistic person), chronic pain mention (endometriosis), attempted murder, injury mention, and like, two lines of implied racism, though it could be interpreted otherwise.

(link to prompt list)

Quyen and Phuong Jade were close siblings. Born only a year apart, Quyen was a good older brother, going out of his way to protect his two younger siblings, but with a soft spot for his sister Phuong. In the beginning they were three sons from a good, ‘normal’, Vietnamese family, even with an adopted youngest child. Now Quyen, Phuong, and their younger brother were wizards, and not all of them were sons, and they had left their home on Earth behind years ago. They had all left their names as well.

Quyen chose Celyn, and Phuong went by Morelle, and they chose the last name Jade together. Quyen was thirteen, Phuong twelve, and their younger brother ten. This youngest brother didn’t get input as to their new last name, and his first name was already western, given by parents he never knew. He saw himself as an afterthought most of the times, the adopted baby to be taken care of as Quyen and Phuong acted like twins, mischievous yet hard working together.

Celyn was eighteen, now. He never faltered when responding to his western, fake name. He was a year ahead of Morelle, and yet she spent more time helping him with his homework in their study sessions than the other way around. Morelle was also taller than him now, a consistent point of good-natured ribbing.

He was still supportive and protective, though his brother had insisted on being given space in his moodier teenage years, now fifteen with a steady girlfriend and a need to prove himself. So Celyn gave him distance, checking in sometimes but always being pushed further away. Morelle insisted that their brother needed to find his own friends, find himself, because although he seemed ungrateful, he still loved his siblings. They had to. They would always be family.

Morelle was seventeen, and even more outspoken and strong than before. She still had dragged Celyn with her to (almost) every doctor’s appointment as she transitioned, genuine when she looked him in the eye and said she needed someone to know, and care. Celyn already cared, and he found rare books on the magic used to help in her transition, and left them in her dorm.

Celyn always loved rare books, and had a skill for finding them.

That, one could suppose, is as good a start as any, though it goes back two years ago.

Celyn had been given a tip by a grateful acquaintance about where he could find rare, even forbidden, books in Wizard City. Just had to have the right key, and go behind the right waterfall, and be prepared to pay the price if caught.

Since he was sixteen Celyn had been sneaking into Nightside, slipping between abandoned streets and alleyways in the dead of night, wearing a dark cloak, carrying a dagger, maybe being a bit too dramatic. He had found some of his best finds in empty houses and bookstores, and even once grabbed a tome from the library, though that felt too actually criminal for him to attempt again.

At first it was just extra reading material, he and his siblings were all great life wizards, but they could always be greater. They strove for perfection as children back on Earth, and even now without parents to scold them, they still felt a frantic need to be the best, the kind that left them pulling all-nighters and waking up in a panic over tests already taken..

Morelle was fifteen when she started tutoring a pretty girl in life magic. The girl was known around school as quiet to the point of unnerving, never getting social interactions right, so the myth wizard had been labeled as ‘weird’ by the majority of people and written off as smart but too freaky to befriend. Morelle, who looked at this girl and couldn’t help but blush, who found her intriguing now that she noticed her, was thankful she had been assigned to tutor her.

Morelle and Morae became quiet study partners after that. Morelle came to Celyn for help with her rapidly growing need to get to know the girl, to speak to her and find a way to connect where no one else had tried before.

Celyn decided to find some esoteric myth tomes for Morelle to give to her new friend. That was when he found a book on Shadowmancy.

He kept the strange, unique book, shoving it under his homework an interest to pursuit later. He passed on the myth spell books and Morelle came back later, gushing about how Morae was from Earth like them, though on the opposite side of the globe, and then she said more and more until Celyn realized it indeed was a crush.

Celyn met Morae. She was as quiet as rumors said, though there was a logic to it, and Celyn respected that. They both relished in a silent, calm environment, and both enjoyed having someone outgoing and wild like Morelle to pull them out from time to time. They rarely spoke, aside from Celyn giving Morae advice about wooing his sister, and Morae asking clarifying questions about Morelle and how to interact with others without coming off as always aloof, when in reality she was actually rather excited or happy.

Something Morae was startlingly quick to divulge was that she was in nearly constant pain, and kept a blank face as a habit so she wouldn’t scowl at everyone. Then, she would forget to smile. When asked further, she just shifted, pressing a hand to her lower back, and muttered that it was chronic, and even magic didn’t have a cure, so she took standard medication imported from Earth.

Celyn wasn’t one to adopt others as friends quickly. That was Morelle’s forte. But something about Morae opened up his heart, and while his brother pushed him away, he felt like he was gaining a second sister rather quickly. He answered Morae’s questions, he kept and eye out for interesting books Morae would like. He even picked up food for her to try, although she was quick to dismiss things with unpleasant textures, it was something he did to add variety to her life, as she admitted living by routine was soothing, but sometimes monotonous.

It was a month or so later that Celyn actually delved into the book that had gotten lost in his shuffle of books and homework. Shadowmancy was interesting. It spoke of other schools of magic Celyn had never heard of before, ones concerning the Moon, the Sun, and the stars. Some part of him burned with a cold resentment that such lost knowledge was buried in abandoned shops and homes, that it could have been lost to time, even though students would always be eager to discover and learn a new school. He had to know more.

As Morelle grew closer to Morae, Celyn fell into isolation, only studying for school, and for this new magic he had found. Months passed, and the only times he left his dorm were for class or seeking out more books in Nightside’s forgotten corners, then dropping off books for Morae and Morelle during group study nights.

Things progressed. Now, Celyn is eighteen. Morelle and Morae are seventeen.

Celyn would graduate in a few weeks’ time. Morelle and Morae had been dating for half a year, still tentative, barely doing more than some adventurous hand holding in public.

The world shifted when Morae showed up to one of Celyn, Morelle, and Morae’s group study sessions with a bruised face, and couldn’t speak. Morelle instantly went to her girlfriend’s side, emotional but trying her hardest to not raise her voice or cry herself.

Celyn sat there, watching it happen, and felt like he was grinding his teeth into dust. Anger surged, as if someone flipped a switch inside him, and his usual pleasant and sometimes coy demeanor became nothing. His face was devoid of emotion, his green eyes, something so different from his siblings’ plain brown, were dull.

He saw nothing but the shadows, and the shadows saw him. Life magic had no solution for this aside from soft words and healing spells. Shadow knew how to twist circumstances in one’s favor, how to change the game and make others regret.

Morelle told him the next day before a shared lecture. Morae had allowed her to confide in him, and so his sister told him that there were some very persistent bullies seeking a response from Morae. That they had been doing this for years, and were just now escalating to physical actions. After that day, he spent more time with Morelle and Morae, supporting them. She would show up to their usual meeting spots with a random bruise or two, insisting it was nothing. He was trying his best to remain calm and not lash out at the entire world for allowing harm to come to Morae.

Instead he watched, waiting, but still he felt tense. A bow string pulled past its limits, cold with righteous fury that must be sated eventually. He became less orderly, forgetting some of the last assignments in his school career, dressing in ink stained theurgist robes, no longer tying his hair back.

Morelle joked that they looked like twins more than ever, and Celyn grinned at that. Their sharp smiles were identical, and Celyn knew he could bring Morelle in on the only secret he had ever kept from her, if only from omission.

So on a night where Morae wanted to study on her own for myth school exams, Celyn invited his sister over. He showed her the books he had accumulated, hidden behind his driest, most boring textbooks. She was interested, downright fascinated, but only drawn to what Shadowmancy could do to make her a better healer and protector.

Celyn had been drawn the violence. He was always of the opinion that the best defense was a swift and ruthless offense. Morelle had a better sense of when to play fair, where he was more ruled by anger. He probably should have guessed what facets of this school she would find entrancing.

She knew this about him too, and vocalized it when she noticed how much fewer his books on healing and protecting were. Morelle simply teased him, smiling as if it was something as commonplace as her razzing on Celyn over his height. Celyn smiled back, and knew Morelle was better at predicting him than he was at reading her intentions.

Celyn even brought her along on a visit to Nightside, where she could scope out and pick books of her own, and they didn’t sleep that night. It was amazing, the adrenaline of a heist combining with the giddiness of their old mischief making them carry twin smiles.

They were not careful. They were seen.

Those who saw them knew who they were. Who their few other connections were. A distanced, adopted brother who was busy being dragged around by an overbearing girlfriend anyway, and wasn’t consequential. And then Morae, the same girl they had been harassing, that they were so keen on finally getting a reaction out of.

So that was how things came to a head. Threats were made to Morae about getting the only people who cared about her kicked out of Ravenwood. Morae was angry, very angry.

All her life, Morae had been passive. She was quiet, sensitive. A good girl back at home on Earth, who kept quiet and did everything asked of her, even when that meant failing school to take care of siblings, even when that meant smiling and pretending she didn’t understand the insults, even if she was fluent in English as well as her native Spanish. She was different no matter how silent she was, her large afro of hair and Vitiligo always easy to point out.

Then Morae was told she had to potential to be a wizard, to go learn fantastical things. She took the chance, because when she asked her parents, they said they didn’t care either way, and tried to guilt her, but she didn’t get that they were trying to guilt her, and so she just left. She cut her hair close to her skull, the texture finally no longer a constant pain just under her skin, and became a myth wizard.

And for years, she still acted the same. Quiet, passive. A good girl. Until she reached out and asked to be tutored in life magic. And she found someone worth being herself for.

Almost two years of being friends, almost six months of being girlfriends, and Morae had found her spine, confidence wrapping around her like a heavy, anchoring blanket. When threatened, anger rose up for the first time since she was very young. Anger made her fists clench around the strap of her school bag. It made her look up from her shoes. It made her pay attention and want to defend what was hers.

So Morae looked the bullies in the eye, standing at her full height of six feet, and scoffed. The eye contact was uncomfortable, but it was worth it for the bullies’ discomfort, as they noticed just how tall she was, how severe her face could look, even in the dappled sunlight outside the myth school. She told them she didn’t care, that they could bring it because nothing had worked yet, and she was getting bored.

Then she left, and within a minute she had interlocked her fingers with Morelle’s, and she kissed the girl on the cheek, spontaneous enough to leave them both giggling.

Morae told Morelle and Celyn about her confrontation that night when they were supposed to be studying, her eyes bright as she rambled on, open and honest and excited about this new development, as if it were idle yet juicy gossip, and not a serious threat.

Morelle knew Celyn was angrier than ever, though it was because he was scared, and he knew if they got caught it would be his fault. Morelle knew what kind of person Celyn was, and that her brother would take the punishment for the both of them if he could figure out how. And she wouldn’t let that happen, not when they could control the situation. In the past few weeks her studies in shadow magic pushed her towards thinking like this, and she found it very beneficial.

So Morelle, that night, told Morae about the school of shadow magic. Morae, who had already gone to the limits of her magical prowess mastering life magic alongside her first school of myth, was interested, but unable to learn it anyway aside from maybe a spell or two. Celyn, understanding what Morelle was going towards, helped her plan out what they were to do next.

What neither of them considered was that plans always fall apart the moment one comes in contact with the enemy.

And so this was where they were.

A day before graduation, and Celyn’s dorm was being searched after he was accused of attacking some students who may or may not have a reputation for bullying. He did attack the students, but it still felt unfair. Of course they found the shadowmancy books too, because Celyn didn’t exactly think things would get this far, and in his defense, he was eighteen, and thought a few stuffy textbooks would be a good cover for contraband. He was expelled, and then exiled, quickly and quietly. He was leaving through the Spiral Door before anyone knew what had taken place that morning.

Morae was missing. Morelle was frantic and looking for her, a lime green aura of powerful life magic fluttering around her, lighting up all the dark spots as she scoured everywhere one would expect Morae to be.

Someone, like a god damned serial killer, had slid a note halfway under Morae’s door sometime after Morae had searched her girlfriend’s dorm that morning.

It had just a location, and Morelle was on a warpath. If those who caused this, whoever Celyn had missed in his little vengeance mission, were still there, they would regret it.

Luckily for those people, they weren’t there. Morae was.

She had been thrown from the edge of Ravenwood, down into Nightside.

It was a gorey scene. If Morelle hadn’t been medically trained, she likely would have been unresponsive when faced with something so awful. She did all she could with her life magic, straightening broken limbs and bandaging open wounds, staring helplessly at obvious internal wounds. She even managed to conjure a stretcher, the fabric and wood a deep green, her magic too emotional to bother with proper colors as it glowed and levitated, illuminating Morae’s injuries in a sickly color.

Morelle ran as quickly as she dared, the stretcher following her, Morae’s breaths wheezing and shallow, filling the small cave entrance behind the waterfall when Morelle stopped for breath, in her mind trying to construct any plan.

There was no plan for this.

So Morelle walked out of the fine mist of water from the waterfall, using her magic to shield Morae’s body as the stretcher floated through. The busy students preparing for the graduation ceremony tomorrow stopped and stared from their places scattered about the Commons. Once shock turned to alarm, people began yelling and crowding around, more and more coming as they heard the others, and Morelle only got as far as the courtyard right before the tunnel to Ravenwood when she snapped.

Instead of lime green life magic, Morelle’s magic darkened. It became a forest green, still surrounding and shielding Morae, what little healing magic she had left being slowly fed into her body, trying not to overload her.

But around Morelle herself that forest green darkened further. She shouted for people to back off and clear the way, but still the crowd shifted, fellow theurgists offering their aid and conjurers offering faux sympathy after years of ignoring their peer, one of the best of them.

Then, ink falling into water, blood falling onto cobblestones, Morae falling into Nightside, Morelle’s ambient magic became a deep, unfathomable black. It absorbed light around it, filling out and circling like a predator, a deep chirruping hum of interest as it built a barrier.

Then Morelle’s shadow stretched, rising, holding a scythe she didn’t own yet. Shadow didn’t care for time, it knew who Morelle was.

And, as Shadow always does, it broke the rules.

There were limits to magic in healing, the potential to make magic spill over as if the wizard body was a cup and magic was water, and it was infuriating to many healers. Shadow could overflow, and still stay, all that magic anchored and solid, as if frozen and still rising, leaving bit by bit as the body absorbed it and truly healed.

Morelle’s hair rose, long black strands twisting and warping as she merged with her shadow, a sentinel and seraph in one form, armor clad in indigo and black, wings protectively curled where they became one with the barrier around her.

Next Morelle knew, she was in a daze, and it was the dead of night, and she was told of her expulsion, a key in hand as she entered the Spiral Door.

Next Morae knew, she was waking up as healthy as she could be, told of her girlfriend’s expulsion, and girlfriend’s brother’s exile. How those who were attacked by Celyn and those who she knew had thrown her off a cliff were getting off with no punishment for their bullying, or for their actual crimes of assault and attempted murder. And she was angry, and spiteful, but this time she was willing to wait for a better plan.

She would complete her last year of school in only months of time, and find her girlfriend. She would return to Wizard City one day, Morelle at her side, with a plan that wouldn’t fail.

So Morae smiled softly, if not a little tearfully, and quietly thanked the life student in the clinic who was known to rip up the homework of those he disliked. Morelle and Celyn had such interesting gossip from the secret hierarchy of life wizards.

There were many secrets in Wizard City. Morae would just have to find the right one to make Ambrose regret his choices. She would bide her time, but when the time did come, she would make eye contact no matter how painful, just to see that soft sparkle in Headmaster Ambrose’s eyes to fill with stark terror.

#wiztober2020 #writing #wizard101 #wizzy101 #wiz101 #w101 #morelle ravenhunter #morae ravenhunter #quyen jade #serpentine king #ocs #my ocs #wizard101 fanfic #wiztober #merle ambrose #i didnt expect this npc to be an asshole but. whoops i dont trust school authorities :)#like 100% feel free to come in my asks if i fucked up somewhere. this is un-beta'd only because i dont want to like. come at a friend #and be like HEY you're THIS MINORITY read my WIZARD101 FANFICTION

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gleam-and-darken · 4 years ago

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Zelda AU #2: The Triplets

The sketch is rough at best, but Zelda is supposed to look like she does pre-calamity, Tetra looks like the girl from the BotW 2 trailer (because it is her, I might explain that later if anyone’s interested), and Sheik has his design from Smash Ultimate. This is really just my take on the twins AU which was originally created by someone else (rockingthegraveyard, I believe).

https://triforce-princess.tumblr.com/post/627266504652668928/this-is-awesome-your-brain-is-so-good

Anyways, I was thinking of what this might actually look like as a fleshed-out story, and I decided that Zelda’s twin could be named Tetra. And then I thought, “hey, we can’t leave Sheik out!” And so here we are. Basically, thanks to her siblings, Zelda is able to stop the calamity and (almost) everyone lives happily ever after. I don’t actually plan on writing this into a formal story so this is a long post where I just dump a lot of my ideas concerning the trio. I will not be writing this into a story, because I’ve never played BotW and I fear I would get everything wrong, but you’re welcome to! If someone ends up writing something based on this, I’d love to know so I can read it. I also have lots more ideas about this, so if you want more content (aside from this ridiculously long post), just ask!

Zelda is technically the oldest, although it hardly matters since they’re triplets. Thanks to this, she is arbitrarily the one who had all of the responsibilities heaped upon her. She’s pretty similar to how she appears in BotW, except Link isn’t even a potential love interest for her. He’s just her knight whom she’s gradually grown close to - as a friend.

Tetra is the middle child, and by far the most troublesome. She is outgoing, adventurous, brash, and basically everything you don’t want in a princess. King Rhoam tried to raise her to be proper, constantly reminding her that it was the hero’s (Link’s) duty to be the courageous one, not the princess. This often resulted in her running away and threatening to join the gerudo. She and Revali got along like a house on fire, often bonding over how overrated Link is. She absolutely hates Link, because to her, he represents not her failures, but the failures of her country and family. Why can’t a princess with no triforce be the hero as well? She makes no attempt to hide her distaste for him, although she might have changed her perspective a little if she realized that Link actually greatly admired her. It’s too bad that he was too scared of her to tell her himself. Speaking of being too scared to admit things, the one thing Tetra can’t bring herself to say aloud is that she has a huge crush on Princess Mipha.

Sheik is the little brother, known as the quiet one. Unlike his eldest sister, he knows how to fight, but hates doing so. He would much rather prefer to be exploring the lonely areas of the wild, or researching ancient tech with Zelda. He’s trans, and while his sisters support him and his father respects that, King Rhoam also saw that as an excuse to ignore him. After all, the legends never told of princes doing anything noteworthy. Thus, the king, and by extension almost everyone in Hyrule, more or less forgot about their quiet prince. The champions knew about him and were varying degrees of nice to him, especially Lady Urbosa, which was more than almost everyone he met could say. He didn’t mind it too much, and didn’t even realize that it was wrong until after his father was dead.

Link had a varied relationship with the triplets. Originally, both Zelda and Tetra despised him, because he reminded them of everything wrong in Hyrule - Zelda’s own self doubt, and Tetra’s failed attempts to become her own hero. Since his two sisters were always talking about how much they hated having this royal knight follow Zelda around, Sheik grew to dislike him as well, despite having never met in person. However, there was a time in the castle when Tetra practically kidnapped Zelda and whisked her away to an unknown location in Hyrule, sending everything into chaos. Sheik was pretty sure that they were both in on it and were simply trying to prove how well they could manage without Link, but they hadn’t informed him of their plan before they left, so he really had no idea. What he did know was that they left Link behind, and now the royal knight was panicking because he thought the king would blame him for letting his daughters vanish, and feared he’d be at the very least jailed.

Link, to his surprise, was not punished - the king was too busy cursing his own tomboyish daughter - but was sent to go find them alongside a team of Hyrulean soldiers. Not wanting to look useless, Sheik joined the quest. In their travels, Sheik discovered that Link was actually a lot like himself, just in completely different circumstances (and much more reckless, unfortunately), and the knight found that the prince was one of the few people who didn’t meet him with impossibly high expectations, for which he was thankful. They became fast friends, although since they both said an average of ten words a week combined, their friendship often looked more like them being present in the same room.

Much later, after both princesses had returned to the castle (“of our own accord,” Tetra had reminded everyone within earshot), the king doubled down on Zelda discovering her powers. She and her knight were rarely seen around the castle, always visiting springs and whatnot, while Zelda’s siblings were left at the castle doing... basically nothing. They were both training constantly for a battle that they were beginning to believe would never come.

Their seventeenth birthday started like any other day. They were at the castle while Zelda and her knight were off at another spring to pray, along with the champions. Then all hell broke loose. (Literally.) Something monstrous decided to rear its ugly head from under Hyrule Castle, and it took over the guardians to boot. Of course, both Tetra and Sheik became extremely concerned for their older sister, since she probably couldn’t fight a bokoblin, much less corrupted ancient technology. This, combined with the fact that the castle was probably the worst place to be right then, prompted the two to bolt into the field and find their sister. They had to fight guardians the entire way, and Sheik recieved a nasty injury, but kept denying how bad it really was.

Despite the storm, she wasn’t that hard to find, thanks to that explosion of what they guessed was her divine magic that had finally decided to say hello. They found her as opposed to the sheikah, but arrived on the scene a bit to late for the hero. He wasn’t dead (or was he?), or at the very least he could be saved/brought back, but he was clearly not about to help them fight. (Still, Sheik absolutely lost his mind when he saw the state Link was in, to the shock of his sisters. Neither of them knew he was close friends with the knight.)

Zelda quickly explained her plan to her siblings, where she would return the sword to the forest and face Ganon herself, to which Tetra said “hell no.” The Master Sword was right there! Hyrule needs saving, and the princess found herself to be a perfectly competent hero. The sword could be fixed. Somehow.

This part is where I’m a little on the fence about what happens. The sword’s health and power does seem to be tied to Link’s, as evidence by how it heals with him over 100 years and can only shoot sword beams when he’s at full health (I think), but since Tetra actually was worthy of wielding the sword, Fi could have been restored when she accepted the blade. Alternatively, Tetra and Sheik could have been the sages of earth and wind without realizing it, and we’re able to restore the sword on the fly. You get to decide how the sword repaired itself.

So now Tetra has roped herself into fighting Ganon with the Master Sword, Zelda by her side, while Sheik is losing his mind over what is basically the corpse of his closest friend. It’s at this time that Zelda realizes just how injured her brother is. She knows that he can’t fight the calamity like that, so she tasks him with taking Link to the Shrine of Resurrection, like Fi said. Initially, he refuses, but he soon decides that it’s all he can do and agrees.

The triplets go their separate ways. Somehow, the sisters are able to get to the castle very quickly, and start to challenge the Calamity. Zelda uses her new sealing powers to force him into a mortal form, while Tetra beats him up with her new weapon of choice. Ganon originally shrugs them off, more or less, but as they start to win he activates Panic Mode and summons all of his blights back to the sanctum to fight the sisters. Luckily, the blights were snatched right out of their battles with the champions, who were beaten and shaken but still alive.

However, thanks to his new allies, Ganon starts to win. Just when the princesses think they’re about to die, the divine beasts - which are under the control of the champions after the blights left - strike, finishing off the Calamity. Naturally Ganon has a few tricks up his sleeve and transforms into Dark Beast Ganon, moving to Hyrule Field. By Hylia’s (late) divine grace, Tetra and Zelda are teleported to the field as well, alongside Sheik, surprisingly. He’d just set Link up in the shrine before getting pulled here. Zelda is able to summon the Bow of Light, which becomes his weapon.

Together, the three of them are able to take out the dark beast. Zelda creates weak points, while Tetra and Sheik shoot them with Master Sword beams and light arrows, respectively. (Maybe Tetra DID die, but her health was restored by a fairy, or she’s at full health for some other reason.) So now Ganon is dead. Castle town is in shambles, and multiple people are dead, including the king. But don’t worry - Urbosa quickly makes herself the new parental figure of the triplets.

Hyrule is rebuilt. The people celebrate the defeat of the calamity, and the guardians are restored to their former abilities. Tetra becomes the new Champion of Hyrule Castle, wielding the Master Sword and the Sheikah Slate. For an extra happy ending, maybe she and Mipha formally become a couple. Sheik pioneers work on improving ancient and modern technology, showing a special interest in ways to reverse aging. After many years, Queen Zelda’s son, Daphnes Link Hyrule, becomes the ruler after her reign ends.

And so, the people of Hyrule live happily ever after.

... and 100 years later, Link wakes up.

#legend of zelda #link #zelda #zelda au #the triplets #featuring low effort doodles #breath of the wild #botw #botw 2

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anxietycalling · 4 years ago

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Ugh. Ugh. It's been a week since the Atomic Mom went off and, like, I still feel weird about it. I keep not doing anything about it thinking that that's progress because I used to be volatile and reactionary, but is it? Or my silence making me an accessory to her transphobia?

I thought cutting her out would make me feel better, and for a second it did, but I am anxious about it so I keep checking her page like that's going to give me some insight. Spoiler alert: it doesn't. And I just keep thinking about all the things she doesn't know about or doesn't want to know about - Husband, my name change - and it's a mess. It's a mess!

Part of me keeps thinking I should write her a letter, or something, but then I remember the way she absolutely refused to read anything I write despite admitting I had talent. She found something I wrote once, when I was 12, and I used curse words in it so she decided I was a terrible pornographic miscreant forever. I think I was 18 the first time I even wrote a sex thing.

And, like, what would I even put in a letter? "Here's a list of all the horrible things you said to me? Here's my updated birth certificate but also please take me out of your will?" Saying something feels like a nuclear option, but not saying something means she gets to live with her blindfold on pretending she's the greatest mom ever.

I know, I know, this is probably stuff for therapy, but it's too fucking expensive right now, and one of the cats needs a vet visit because she broke a tooth, and I think I am moderately spiraling because in the past I would ask her for help but I don't want to "use her" - her words, not mine.

I don't know. It's complicated because at one time she did give me literally thousands of dollars while I was ruining my life in California. She did bail me out when I needed it, even if she did think I was on meth. (Please note, I have never even done one drug. I am a recovered alcoholic, but that's it, I spent a year drinking my feelings and hated it.)

But also! Also, she tried to get the SPCA to break literal federal confidentiality law to punish me, tried to have me arrested for animal hoarding, all because the drug addict who lived in an apartment before us left her two pregnant cats behind. We tried our hardest to rehome those fucking kittens and keep them healthy with no one helping us. Like, the majority of my money from working went to cat care and she still thought we were just doing drugs all the time. I don't even know. I don't even know!

I am so not the drug sibling in this dynamic. My older brother sold drugs up until he moved out the second time, he sold them from our garage and she never even blinked. My older sister got busted with weed and a bong in the front seat of her car, even did jail time for it (which shouldn't have happened, but still!) and that was just fine. But I constantly try to be a better person and I'm just, like, evil or something?

I know I am never going to win her approval. She sees me as something less than human, okay, some kind of Frankenstein monster.

Some days I wake up and just wish I could hurt her as big as she hurt me. I think maybe that makes me a bad person. I don't know. Can you even hurt someone who doesn't have a heart?

It bothers me a lot that she's never once asked about Husband or my dating life or, like, anything. She wants the beautiful pictures from my sisters' weddings and all the trappings that go along with it, but my actual marriage is a sham to her because I didn't ask her fucking permission. And, like, hell yeah I ran away from her house to be with Husband, because he's awesome, but also because we both recognized if I didn't get out of there I would be dead by now.

Like, I was essentially a prisoner in my own home. I had to account for everything I did to her, constantly, and every dollar I spent, and every phone call and communication. It's exhausting. Who wouldn't take the opportunity to escape if they could? Who wouldn't take the opportunity NOT to be constantly surveilled?

We have never once talked about it, but I know she installed keyloggers on all my devices up until I moved out at 19 and cut her off the first time. I am still constantly terrified that I'm being monitored. I still have trouble even letting Husband use my phone or laptop just in case. He's very considerate and he knows how hard it is for me, but sometimes I wish I could just let him google something without feeling like I need to hover over him the whole time.

I wish I knew what to say. I want to write her a letter, something really scathing, but I know it's useless. She'll just use it to make herself the victim, like she always does, and just add it to her arsenal of why trans people are the enemy and only transition specifically to hurt her.

What is there to say?

Hey, you say and do really hurtful things whenever I try to open up to you? And every time I do you act like I'm personally attacking you with my happiness, so don't call me your kid anymore unless it's to call me your son who you love and support. Don't send me your pity money on holidays so we can sidestep the fact that my appearance in your family tree is an embarrassment. Just don't, okay? Don't act like our family is good and normal when you can't even acknowledge my existence, when you lie to all your friends about how I've been and who I fucking am. Don't act like you didn't try to squash all my interests constantly, or treat me like a deviant, or tell me my first tattoo made me look like I belonged in jail.

The tattoo thing makes me really mad, actually. When things were briefly good between us I had a really cute mother-son tattoo idea. I wanted her to get R2-D2 and I'd get BB-8, because we both love Star Wars and BB is the little baby droid. Maybe it's a good thing we never did it. I don't get why tattoos are this awful, ugly thing to her when she literally got her belly button pierced during her midlife crisis. Especially cause any time I got a new piercing she freaked the fuck out. I got my septum pierced at 16 and hid it from her for years. I was 22 when she found out and her reaction was exactly what I thought it would be. The piercing wasn't even out, it was just the shadow of the retainer in my nose, and she acted like I'd tattooed my entire face or something.

I am so angry that my mom never told her shitty friends I'm trans. It shouldn't be my job to out myself to her redneck friends. It shouldn't be my job to put myself in danger constantly to justify my existence in the hopes of eventually getting the crumbs of affection she's willing to throw my way when she feels guilty enough. It's supposed to be her job to protect me. It's supposed to be her job to protect me from feeling bad, and that extends to the dysphoria of being dead named when I am a literal man with tattoos and a beard and enough back hair to knit a sweater out of.

I just! I wish she'd come out just once and say "I am horrible and transphobic and don't think you should be allowed to exist and be happy, and I think your body is gross." Like, it wouldn't be so bad if she would actually admit what is going on here. It's been 15 years and she is not trying at all.

I wish I could figure out what the fuck to say. I want to just shove everything into an envelope and send it and be done with it. The ball can be in her court to decide what she wants to do.

The worst part about all of this is that I can almost see it from her perspective. Well. Her perspective if she were a human being and not an emotional vampire. She's never been able to look past herself and see situations as they actually are. And I feel bad for her sometimes, because her sisters have fulfilling lives and leave her to do the crappy stuff like caring for my grandparents. I feel bad that she's probably jealous of how close my aunts and uncles are with their kids. But she doesn't realize that that's her fault for being so rigid and unforgiving and stubborn. If she were willing to change, or admit fault at all, we'd be a lot closer.

My brother still cries about her and why she doesn't love him sometimes. He's still looking to fill that hole where parental love should be. He's repeating our parents' patterns because he's hurting, too, and until our mom learns to be a human person he's just gonna keep getting hurt.

Times like this make me really wish there were an easy solution. I've read so many books and articles on estrangement I could be an expert by now.

Is it bad that a very petty part of me just wants to post more pictures and tag her on Facebook to make all her friends have to see it? Is that something? I know I shouldn't actually do it lest she cause a huge shitstorm, but it would feel so personally satisfying for a minute before the regret and panic set in.

Maybe I will print out that thing she posted and just literally mail that to her along with whatever letter I end up eventually writing her.

#personal #nothing big just #momblogging

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your-hurricane · 4 years ago

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neon moon || chapter 1 - broadcast me a joyful noise unto the times

A/N: Disclaimer, I haven’t written fanfic since I was fourteen so please be gentle with me, friends

AO3 link

Fair warning that the only editing this has gone through has been proofreading!

Also, the first two chapters are largely exposition and setting up the various connections between Frankie and the MC (Natalia), but they will finally get to meet in chapter three!

Neon Moon summary: [starts three years after the events of the movie]

Single dad Francisco "Frankie" Morales and former Ph.D candidate Natalia Yevstigneyev-Diaz are trying their best.

Alternatively: Frankie and the woman about to change his life keep missing each other, until they don't.

“Whoo-wee! Nice one, Diaz!” Benny said from where he’d just been knocked onto his back atop the sparring mats.

At her instructor’s praise, Natalia Diaz preened, making a show of taking her long dark wavy-curls out of her workout ponytail and flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Thank you, thank you, always happy to hear my badassery is increasing.”

“I’d say perfecting. That was solid.”

“Yeah, haven’t seen him go down that unexpectedly probably ever,” piped up a man with big, kind brown eyes whose name Natalia swore was Frankie. She’d only ever heard him called by his real name once or twice --- Benny usually greeted him as Fish.

If Frankie was here, that meant the rest of Benny Miller’s military buddies would be trickling into the gym. Pity they seemed to be on time today— flipping Benny was fun, maybe he’d’ve given her a window to do it again. Sometimes if his buddies ran late he’d keep sparring with her past the self-defense session she’d paid for.

“It’s thanks to him and his lessons! Wouldn’t know where to begin without him.” Natalia hi-fived Benny from where he was on the floor, now sitting. “Thanks as always, Benny. See you Friday afternoon?”

“Hell yeah!”

“Awesome. Well, I’ll get out of your hair before the rest of the guys show up. Later Benny!” She nodded politely to Frankie just as she spotted the man she knew to be Benny’s older brother and...Pope? Santiago? again, she’d only run into these men in passing.

~.*~.*~.*~.*

Natalia Diaz’s early life read like an adventure, and in many ways, it had been. Her mother, Anna Diaz, was a first generation Mexican-American of Spanish, Mixtec, and Chinese background who met her father, then in medical school, while studying abroad in Russia. Her father, Gavril Yevstigneyev, was from Yakutsk of mixed Russian, Yakut, and Chuvash background. He was a doctor who gave up the possibility of an ultra-lucrative career to spend most of his life working as a medical officer in human rights organizations, and she was a research assistant in those same organizations.

Born while her father was practicing in St. Petersburg, Natalia Gavrilovna Yevstigneyeva Diaz didn’t spend too long in one place. She may have been a dual citizen of the United States and Russia but she didn’t set foot in the United States until she was twelve years old, and her earliest concept of ‘home’ was Pakse, Laos. She was educated at international schools across Southeast Asia, and spoke Lao, Khmer, and Vietnamese in daily life depending on where the Yevstigneyev family was living, Russian at home, learned English and French at school, and her mother taught her enough Spanish to understand her abuela’s English-Spanish mix on birthday and Christmas phone calls.

When it came time to graduate from secondary school - she graduated in Laos, ultimately - she even applied to universities across Laos, Canada, Cambodia, France, The United States, Switzerland, China, Singapore, Australia, and Russia. At her parents’ insistence she cast her net far and wide. Except, with twenty-two acceptance letters and zero rejections, she almost wished she hadn’t.

She studied at McGill University and through a combination of scholarships, her parents’ help, and her “waitressing” job (stripping job actually, and Natalia was damn proud of it and the crazy money it made, but knew her parents would flip out on her so she lied), she earned her B.A.s in linguistics with a minor in translation and interpretation, and anthropology.

She had her pick of the litter as far as where she could settle post-grad: her dual citizenship made the US and Russia wide open to her, Canadian employers were offering to keep her in Canada, her parents still lived in Laos - six years in one place? That was a record for her folks! - and the NGO they were working for straight up offered her a job without her even sending an application.

There wasn’t a grad school on planet Earth that would’ve rejected her application.

Natalia’s life should have been set forever. For a while, it was.

After a gap year traveling Bhutan, Thailand, Indonesia, Mongolia, and completing the Trans-Siberian railway with her younger sister Mariya, who took a gap year between secondary school and university herself, Natalia prepared to conquer grad school….at motherfucking Yale!

That same year, her parents and younger siblings (save Mariya who was studying at Yakutsk State University in their father’s home Russian Republic of Yakutia) moved to her mother’s home state of Texas. A part of Natalia felt bad for her eleven year old sister and the three year old twins out of some sense that her upbringing had been, objectively, the best possible. Natalia did not feel Russian, or Mexican, or American, or Laotian, or Cambodian, or Vietnamese, nor did she feel the need to. Borders were an arbitrary thing. People were people just with different languages, looks, and customs, and she believed she came to know that truth early in life because of her childhood as a third culture kid.

She understood why her parents made that decision though.

In her first year of grad school, the Yevstigneyev Diaz siblings were twenty-two year old Natalia, nineteen-year-old Mariya, eleven-year-old Valentina, and two-year-old Alisa and her twin brother, the only boy in the family, Pavel. Alisa had been born partially deaf and their parents, as if they could react any other way, saw it not as a terrible thing to mourn over but as an opportunity to learn. A challenge did not equal a burden in their eyes. When she was two, however, they realized they needed to either move back to Russia or move to the United States.

The Yevstigneyevs primarily worked and lived in Vietnam and Laos, and there was no singular Laotian or Vietnamese sign language, rather, localized sign languages. As Alisa grew from an infant to a toddler they decided they did not want to deprive her of Deaf culture, and thus, the decision to move to Texas was made.

Just two years after relocating to Texas, tragedy struck the family.

A car speeding through a red light killed Anna and Gavril on the way home from volunteering their time to teach Russian classes at the local Russian cultural center. Natalia, then twenty-four years old with a newly minted Masters from Yale and acceptances to three Ph.D programs, had to force out emails declining the offers, pack up her apartment, and move to Texas to raise her siblings.

Abuela Rita instinctively offered to handle her grandchildren, but Natalia couldn’t possibly make her abuela (who she barely knew at that) raise three children again. Besides, her mother’s youngest sister still lived at home, and this was the same year Hurricane Harvey destroyed one of her uncle’s homes and he, his wife, and their children were also living in Abuela’s home...yeah, no. No, this had to be Natalia.

It was Natalia or the state of Texas and like hell she was going to throw her three little siblings, two of them just four, and one of them deaf, into the system. Alisa being able to communicate in ASL was so important to her parents...how could Natalia possibly let Alisa go into a system that wouldn’t care?

And anyway, it wasn’t so bad. She used her fluency in Russian, Lao, Khmer, and French to work as a book translator. She’d even gone back to dancing four days a week for two reasons. A. You’d think speaking five languages fluently would mean she was making an assload of money, right? Wrong. and B. The inheritance and life insurance policies from her parents wouldn’t last forever and she had four college educations to finance.

That was three years ago, and two and a half years before she started taking self-defense classes from Benny Miller. She’d only been working at an Austin strip club for about four months when one handsy patron reminded her that she needed a refresher on how to throw a punch.

As for why she was Natalia Diaz now and not Natalia Yevstigneyeva? Well. She was still Natalia Yevstigneyeva-Diaz, but unless she was filling out legal papers, or at the Russian cultural center, it was just Diaz. Her mother’s last name was just easier for Austinites to pronounce right. You had to be at least a level six friend to unlock her tragic backstory and her full last name.

Natalia had had everything going for her until one drunk driver took her parents, her Ph.D goals, her planned return to traveling the world, and even her name in one instant.

She wished she had it in her to be bitter but that would require her to have time to think about herself anymore. If it wasn’t taking ASL classes with Alisa, it was listening to Mariya complain about her job. If it wasn’t Valentina’s archery competitions, it was Pavel’s gymnastics meets.

(Yes, yes, she knew. How stereotypically Russian of them to have a kid in competitive gymnastics. It wasn’t her idea! Pavel loved it and when he begged his big sister to be allowed more than one class a week...she dared anybody to say no to that face.)

Any Natalia time she did have was too precious to spend being bitter, she decided.

~.*~.*~.*~.*

“Natasha! Nataaaaaaaasha….NATASHA!”

“Wha!” Thud! “Fuck. Oww.”

Natalia groaned from where she’d fallen into a startled pile on the living room floor, staring up at the ceiling and turned her head to shoot a glare at Mariya.

“Marusya, one day, you’re going to scare me awake to actual death.”

“That’s impossible.” Valentina said from where she sat at the dining table typing up a paper for school. “If you’re scared to literal death you can’t be scared awake because you’ll be dead. Dead people can’t be awake.”

“Unless she’s a zombie, Valya!” Shouted Pavel from his room down the hall.

“Pasha’s got a point.” Mariya said, to which Natalia grabbed her foot and yanked hard, making her shriek as she fell against the couch. “Oof. Anyway, you’re going to be late for work if you don’t hurry up.”

Natalia checked her watch and let out a swear under her breath. “I really need to not spar with Benny on work nights. Hey, Valya-” she sat up on the floor and whirled around to face her middle sister. “Do I need to drop you off for babysitting anywhere tonight?”

Valentina shook her head. “Abuela’s picking me up to take me to Mr. Morales’. I’m watching Daniela.” Mr. Morales - whoever that was - lived near Abuela and her taking Valentina to his house gave her some ‘Valone time’ she liked to say.

Natalia peeled herself off the floor and made her way to her bedroom, stopping by Alisa’s on the way. She grabbed the purple narwhal plushie that lived in a little basket attached to her door - the Get Alisa’s Attention Narwhal - and gently tossed it at Alisa, and when it landed in her lap Alisa tossed it back to Natalia, kept her hands free, and said “I didn’t forget.”

“Good. If you’re good at the dentist tomorrow morning, I’ll buy you ice cream after.”

“Isn’t that the opposite of what you should do after the dentist?”

“So you don’t want ice cream?” “That’s not what I said!”

Natalia laughed and stepped far enough into Alisa’s room to ruffle her hair and then said, “Be good. Masha’s in charge while I’m at work.”

~.*~.*~.*~.*

“Thought you were day shift on Wednesdays, Natasha!” A black woman with her hair in box braids — Jess, stage name Phoenix — said, throwing her arm around Natalia when she first got to work.

“Nah, I talked to Paris, got my hours changed around, remember? Gosh, it’s like you don’t remember everything I ever say to you.”

Jess stuck her tongue out and muttered, “Bitch,” before smooching Natalia’s cheek.

Natalia shoved Jess off of her with a giggle. “Go finish getting ready, ya crazy.” She sat down in front of one of the available mirrors to touch up her makeup before she was officially working, then addressed Jess again. “My 11-8 days are now Sunday and Monday. Wednesday, Saturday, I’m here with you 8 til 4, baybeeeee.”

“Mm, good call. Wine Wednesday.”

Half price wine meant more cash for dancers.

“Needs more body glitter,” Natalia said in her best Christopher Walken impression, before unscrewing the cap of her body glitter to shiny herself up.

“Now in your Zoya voice!”

“Needs more body glitter,” Natalia repeated, this time, in her stage persona’s stronger Russian accent.

The accent helped to further distinguish between Zoya the performer and who Natalia was offstage. It also wasn’t exactly offensive, either, because it was just Natalia exaggerating the accent she naturally had and just making it consistently Russian. It was a mess otherwise. Natalia and Mariya...talked funny. Their accents were kind of impossible to place because of how they learned English and which languages they first learned to actually speak in.

At first listen, their international school education would hint at American- ish . But listen closely and certain vowels come out like an Aussie or a Canadian, courtesy of international school teachers from those countries. Listen for another moment and you’ll hear that Natalia’s tongue, specifically, never learned to consistently make certain sounds that English has that Russian, Lao, Vietnamese and Khmer just don’t. Natalia’s H’s came out harsh courtesy of her Russian father. And both Natalia and Mariya had a habit of dropping articles when telling their younger siblings to ‘close window’ or ‘feed dog and cat.’

For the most part, as Natalia tried to explain to anybody who asked about her accent, English was a language for the classroom. They spoke exclusively Russian in the home and out in ‘the wild’ spoke the local language. Yakutsk was a closer flight from Laos, Cambodia, or Vietnam than Austin was so if they visited any grandparents for Christmas it was their babushka and dedushka in Russia.

Returning to the US permanently never was the plan, remember. It was only a decision they made for Alisa to live somewhere with a standard sign language -- and the only reason, Anna confessed to Natalia once, that they didn’t go back to Russia, was because Natalia had recently come out as bisexual.

“We worried for Valya and the twins. What if they also grow up and realize they aren’t straight? The way it is in Russia for people like you...your father and I love Russia more than the United States. But we love our kids more than Russia.”

She hated how vivid that conversation was in her head. There were some truly beautiful moments with her mother that had already faded from memory. How unfair of her brain to let things like holidays, birthdays, and her mother’s hugs slip.

“Drive home safe, Jess.” Natalia bid her friend farewell a little after four the next morning, kissing her on the cheek before she unlocked her own car. If she got up to 70 and stayed there, she’d be home in time to count her tips, shower, and fix breakfast for the kiddos before school and in Alisa’s case, the dentist.

~.*~.*~.*~.*

“Stand still Pasha,” Natalia said as she gently bopped the seat of her baby brother’s pants to knock the glitter off them. “Your butt looks like a glitter cannon exploded right next to it.”

Pavel giggled and pointed out, “It’s your fault there’s always glitter in your bed.”

“You shouldn’t lay down in my bed for naps after I’ve woken you up for school anyway. Especially not after you’ve already got your clothes on, you dingus.”

“ Heeeey, that’s mean!” Pavel pouted.

“Not if I’m saying it with love. Which I am.” Natalia stood up and pressed a kiss to the top of her brother’s head. “Okay, your butt’s as unsparkly as it's gonna get.”

“I don’t see what wrong with having a sparkly butt anyway.” Pavel grumbled.

“Now run along to the bus stop with the other kids. Be good at school, learn lots, I love you kid.”

“Love you too , Natashe-!” the -nka! came muffled as Pavel had darted out the door to run down to the bus stop.

Natalia sipped on her coffee and watched out the window as her brother darted across the field to the complex’s mailbox pavilion to make sure he joined the other children safely. Satisfied he had, she turned away from the window to trudge back to the kitchen and refill her coffee and begin her vanilla work for the day before she had to wake Alisa for the dentist. On today’s docket? Trying to get through editing at least the first third of her Russian translation of the next book in the hottest new YA series.

There was nothing Natalia wanted more than a nap but she was already cutting her deadline close. Right on schedule was the same as being behind in the literary translation world. If she wasn’t so ahead of schedule she was getting bored then she was nearing panic mode.

Logically she knew that only she felt that way. Her boss didn’t, or at least never felt the need to express to her that he did, but just herself was enough to put the pressure on from beginning to end of a project.

It had benefited her in school. Not so much in her career.

A life in academia as a linguistics scholar and researcher would have suited her better. The universe didn’t consider that when it let a drunk driver kill her parents and leave her three siblings to raise and Mariya’s academic dreams to finance.

#pedro pascal fandom #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #francisco morales x ofc #my fic #neon moon fic #ofc of color #multiracial ofc #Francisco catfish Morales

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theshinsun · 4 years ago

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A-Z for honesty hour because I'm an asshole. :D

A - If I’m in love.

...yes. I never thought I would be again, I thought I’d been too hurt and jaded to feel this way again, but against all odds, I’m back to being 17 in full force.

B - Who the last person I talked to on the phone was.

The only one who ever calls me is my mother. And customers at work.

C - How long it’s been since I’ve kissed.

damn, almost a year now… not since my last relationship ended back in October-ish. even then, it was mostly casual pecks idk if we ever seriously made out tbh.

D - If I have a preference for boys or girls.

already answered (twice) but I'll keep going… I've got a definite preference of guys over girls, but I'm also a bi disaster and sometimes it doesn't make a lot of sense why this person is instantly attractive to me while that person isn't. certain aspects of femininity do appeal to me, but weirdly other aspects seem to be a turn-off and I can't always put my finger on what or why. ...that caveat does not apply to masculinity though, even if it's traditionally "masculine" features on a feminine-presenting individual I am 100% down every time.

E - How many holes I have in my ears.

two and a half? I got a third piercing at some point halfway up the lobe but it got infected and scarred over I think. the holes I do have are also stretched (I'm up to 0G now) and I've been meaning to get some more.

F - Give me any options, like ‘hot or cold?’

wasn't given any options, so I guess I'll go with hot or cold lol. I prefer hot, I'm one of those weirdos who loves summer because of the heat and I'll usually take a hot food/drink over a cold one.

G - The last person I said ‘I love you’ to.

my mom, over the phone just now.

H - The last person I hugged.

my roommate. we're not always super touchy-feely with each other but I've been feeling kind of down and she noticed.

I - The last time I felt jealous, and why.

I'm not usually a very jealous person, but the last time I really felt that way… I'd recently broken up with my ex, and they were sitting on someone else's lap and I… felt things. part of the reason I realized I may have made a mistake.

J - Are you insecure. What about?

K - What my full name is

already answered, my first and middle are Jacob Brooks, I'm not putting my last name out there sorry I don't trust like that.

L - If I have siblings.

already answered, I've got two, an older brother and a younger sister.

M - If I forgive betrayal.

I mean, I forgive but I don't forget, ya know? like I'll accept an apology if it's sincere and welcome the person back and never bring it up again, but I'm probably gonna be cautious around them in the future, and not trust them as readily as I would have before.

N - If you want to know how I treat my friends.

if I call someone my friend it means I really feel close with them, and I treat my friends basically like my family. I try to always be honest and supportive of them, bc I love and appreciate them and just want them to be happy.

O - If I like my school.

I love my school. the campus is beautiful, the teachers are fantastic, and I just love being there and learning and growing in my classes. I'm really sad this semester is probably going to be mostly online because I really feel like I belong in those studios and on that campus and I miss it.

P - What kind of music I like.

already answered, and it mostly boiled down to all over the fuckin place, so this time… band recommendations, here we go. no you have no say in this.

here, have a clump of random favorite bands off the top of my head: mother mother, bad suns, nothing but thieves, hozier, shearwater, the neighbourhood, steam powered giraffe, rainbow kitten surprise, the oh hellos, gregory alan isakov, caravan palace, mystery skulls, khai dreams, autoheart, muse, silversun pickups, thousand foot krutch, two door cinema club, twenty one pilots, blue october, jukebox the ghost

Q - What the last party I went to was, and when the next will be.

I'm not a partier at All, but I did have a bunch of friends over for the 4th (okay I say a bunch but it was like four people from our usual less-socially distant circle). I have no idea when the next get-together will be, it's kinda hard to plan those kinds of things lately.

R - For me to tell 10 of my curiosities.

the phrasing of this question is weird but I'm gonna assume it means things I'm curious about? let's go with that.

travel. I haven't ever been out of the country and I'd like to see other parts of the world at least at some point in my life.

tattoos. both getting them and learning to do them, it's a niche branch of art that I'm just fascinated by and I might like to do it as a career if I knew more about it.

same thing with being a florist. I'm really drawn to it as a concept and I'm super curious how it works, but I have no idea what kind of… qualifications and whatnot I'd need for that.

surfing. I'm surrounded by the lifestyle and now kind of own a surfboard, I just want to know what the appeal is.

this may be a bit tmi, but I'm really curious what it's like to have a dick. I don't suppose I'll strictly ever know, but I still really want to… probably one of the biggest things to clue me in that I'm definitely trans is the literal penis envy ngl.

I've always kind of had a fascination with the ocean, and I'd love to go like, scuba diving or something someday, to see it up close and personal.

I think everyone has the impulse thought of shaving their head at some point. maybe someday I will I don't quite have the balls to do it now.

I've gone this long in my life and never wielded a sword? a travesty. I don't pretend to have the grace to actually know how to use one, but I've like, never even held a real one and the idea interests me a lot.

this one might be slightly morbid curiosity, but I don't think I've ever been like, properly drunk or high before, like I've been tipsy but I've never been wasted, you know? the idea kind of scares me and I don't think I'm going to go out and remedy it, but it's still there, and even if I know it's not a good idea, I do still wonder what that's like.

same vein, maybe even a little darker, but I've got at least a little morbid curiosity about like, death and real danger. again, not planning to act on it At All, but the thought is still lurking in the back of my mind like what if…? you asked for honesty. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

S - 2 habits.

bit of a new habit, but I have a whole ritual of disinfecting groceries when I bring them home, and then disinfecting the door knobs and counters. I don't know if it'll persist after the pandemic is over, but it's already ingrained in me and I don't feel comfortable if I skip it or do it differently.

I apologize for things that aren't my fault. it's such an instinct at this point to say "sorry" when I'm uncomfortable or anxious that it doesn't even register anymore, even when people tell me not to be sorry, I'm still gonna say it, sorry.

T - 5 things I love unconditionally.

already answered so here's 5 more

my family. if I haven't got my family I haven't got anything, we've got each others' backs and I won't turn on them for anything

my friends. same deal, I owe so much to my friends, I love them, and that won't change no matter what they decide to do or be.

sleep. I love sleep so much, even if it's just an involuntary nap, though for someone who loves it so much I sure don't get enough of it

spotify. I know it has problems, I know there are probably more streamlined/cheaper music streaming services out there, but at this point, I've sunk too much of my time and energy into this one and I'll never give it up

my ocs. I don't talk about them very much on this platform, but I have them, they're my children, and I love them even if they're assholes and never easy to write/draw.

U - How many texts I send daily.

already answered, the number varies, and sometimes swings drastically between like, 5 and 35 on any given day.

V - 3 big dreams.

graduate art school. it's gonna be a serious undertaking and probably take several more years and a lot of loans at this point, but I'm still determined to get there someday.

someday I want to write a book. I know I've said that before on a different prompt, but it wouldn't be a list of dreams without including this one that I've held onto since childhood.

this one's kind of vague, but someday… I want to not be afraid anymore. like I want to finally be in a state of mental/financial security so I can live my life without the fear of what's coming next.

W - An idol.

it's probably really basic to list a youtuber, but I've still gotta go with Chase Ross. the guy was an inspiration and a major source of information and support for me early-on in my transition, and even watching him now I still want to approach life with the pure positive energy and confidence that he has.

X - If I’ve done something I regret very much.

yes. a couple things, really… some of which I don't think I'll ever be able to make up for.

Y - If I like my town and why.

my current town? yeah, it's got its problems but it's also beautiful and full of life and art and unique energy and I miss the days before the Corona End Times when I could actually go out and enjoy it.

Z - Ask any question you want.

??? I did not receive any specification for this one, and given that I didn't skip even the duplicate answers and this is ridiculously long, this one I'm gonna SKIP.

#shin speaks #answered #finally getting to this a million years later #thanks friend!!#i'll get to the other prompts in a second but i felt bad about not finishing this one #tw death mention #tw alcohol mention #just to be safe

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huntertales · 5 years ago

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Part Three: A Light At The End Of The Tunnel. (The Great Escapist S08E21)

Episode Summary: When Sam, Dean and the reader receive a distressing video message from Kevin Tran, they set about trying to uncover the third trial. The boys and the reader make a discovery that sends them to a casino in Colorado, to find a mysterious recluse who may be able to fill in the holes in Kevin’s research. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 3,923.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

It took you a second to figure out what was going on; you were staring down the barrel of a loaded rifle, that was being held by who you could only guess was the angel you had been searching for. Part of you was taken back to see who was standing on the other side of the weapon with his finger on the trigger. Angels were arrogant creatures who thought they were high and mighty, involved themselves in your business when they thought it would benefit them. And always loved to put on a show with their abilities to prove how powerful they were compared to a couple of measly humans. Metatron didn’t fit the bill. Hell, he took you off guard for how you found him. Hiding away in a hotel surrounded by what you could only guess was thousands of books as his only company and a rifle and his weapon of choice against you.

While you knew the person holding the weapon still pointed at yourself and the boys, the angel didn’t seem to recognize the three faces you guessed every one of his brothers and sisters knew by now. Not only because of the things you had done over the years and the few you killed, you had a bad reputation among them that didn’t leave a warm greeting. Dean found the person he was staring at not who he was expecting, in how all of this was going down. You furrowed your brow slightly as you continued to stare at the face of who Metatron had picked as his vessel. Something about him seemed oddly familiar. But you couldn’t put you finger on why.

“Metatron? This is Metatron?” Dean couldn’t help himself but ask. “This is Metatron?”

“Sit down.” You quickly looked over your shoulder when you heard Metatron’s voice from behind you, suddenly standing with the rifle to your back. Knowing you weren’t in the position to try and talk your way out of this one, you slowly backed yourself up until you felt the back of your legs hit what felt to be a chair. You eased yourself down while the boys chose a spot on a table cluttered with even more books. “Who sent you?”

You weren’t exactly caught what the angel had said, you winced slightly when you noticed the ringing in your ears had come back. Even louder than before. You clutched part of your head to try and cope with the pain. “We came on our own. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You had to shout in order to just hear yourself talking that sounded like a muffled noise to you. “These are the Winchesters.”

“I’m Dean.” The oldest Winchester introduced himself first and then his brother to save you the trouble. “And this is Sam.”

“You work for Michael?” Metatron asked all of you. You furrowed your brow even tighter as you struggled to figure out what exactly he was trying to say, attempting to read his lips as you saw him shift the gun toward your direction. “Or Lucifer?”

“What, you really haven’t heard of us?” You shouted your own question back at him, smiling to yourself. “What kind of angel are you? All of your kind hate me. And not to mention—these are the freaking Winchesters.”

“Michael and Lucifer—those dudes are in the deep fryer.” Dean answered the angel.

“Yeah. We put them there ourselves.” You added on, still shouting to hear yourself talk over the ringing in your ears that felt like it was growing louder with each passing moment.

“What about Gabriel and Raphael?” Metraon asked about more of his fellow brothers.

“Dead.” You responded back.

“You really don’t know all of this?” Sam asked the angel, finding it all rather strange.

Metatron shook his head, “I’ve been very careful.”

“Hey, can you—can you turn that down?” You couldn’t help yourself but ask for a favor from the angel, hoping he might be able to do something about the ringing in your ears you couldn’t handle anymore.

“Turn what dow—oh.” Metatron wondered for a second what exactly what you were talking about, until he figured out exactly why you were acting so strange. He lowered the rifle so it was next to his side. “You’re resonating.”

“Resonating?” Dean repeated the word he heard the angel speak, not liking the sound of it. “What do you mean, resonating?”

“You've undertaken the trials. You're trying to pull one of the great levers, aren't you?” Metatron asked you, ignoring the older Winchester’s concern. He sounded curious and even the slightest bit intrigued. You guessed for someone of your nature. And the condition you were in might have raised a brow here and there. You nodded your head. “You're pretty far along, too. You get that far along, you start resonating with the Word. Or with its source on the material plane. With me.”

“You said you were being careful.” Sam spoke up, going back to what the angel had mentioned earlier. “Careful how?”

“I’m not one of them. I’m not an archangel. I’m really more run-of-the-mill. I worked in the secretarial pool before God chose me to take down the word. Anyway, he seemed very worried about his work, what would happen to it when he left, so he had me write down instructions. Then he was gone.” Metatron told you about how he landed himself being God’s personal writer.

He grabbed a chair and took a seat across from the three of you. You shifted slightly in your seat when you noticed he nonchalantly wheeled around the rifle without much thought, almost forgetting that it was fully loaded. “After that, the archangels took over. They cried, and they wailed. They wanted their father back. I mean, we all did. But then they started to scheme. The archangels decided if they couldn’t have Dad, they’d take over the universe themselves. But they couldn’t do anything that big without the word of God. So I began to realize that maybe they would realize...they needed me.”

“So, you got a ruffle in your feathers and you just decide to disappear, go stick your head in the sand forever?” Dean asked the angel, wanting to make sure what he just heard was correct. Metatron nodded his head ever so slowly. “You have no idea what’s been going on out there?”

“Nope.” Metatron said, shaking his head. And looking rather happy with his ignorance about the world around him. Something about the expression on his face rubbed you the wrong way. It started to make you angry about his blissful ignorance. “That’s the whole point.”

“So you have been held up here or in a wigwam, or before that, in some cave, listening to stories, reading books?” Dean asked the angel.

“And it was something to watch. What you brought to His earth—all the mayhem, the murder, just the raw, wild invention of God’s naked apes—it was mind-blowing. But really, really...it was your storytelling. That is the true flower of free will, at least as you’ve mastered it so far.” The angel got back up to his feet while he discussed his only true love of what humanity created. As if you couldn’t tell from the books surrounding the place. “When you create stories, you become Gods of tiny, intricate dimensions unto themselves. So many worlds. I have read as much as it’s possible for an angel to read, and I haven’t caught up.”

"You know what?" You waited a second before speaking up after hearing what Metatron had to say. He was your final hope for figuring out the last trial and shutting the gates of hell. But it turned out he was like the rest of his siblings. You were tired of having people more powerful than you stand back and get their own way. You were putting your foot down. Even if it meant you had to say a few things you didn’t want to. "Pull the trigger."

“What?” Metatron was confused at the words that just came out of your mouth.

“Pull the freaking trigger…” You slowly pushed yourself up to your feet and began walking over to him, ignoring the boys’ attempt at trying to get you to sit back down before you got yourself hurt. You doubt this angel had it in him to hurt you and your unborn child. He wouldn’t. Because he didn’t have the guts to get his hands dirty. “You cowardly piece of garbage.”

“Hey—” Dean tried his hardest to sit back down before you could do something stupid, but there was no way he was going to get you to back off.

“All the time you’ve been hiding here, how much suffering have you read over? These books that you love so much—it’s not all just fiction. Where do you think people come up with these ideas? Why do you think we write in the first place? So we can hide from our suffering. Make worlds better than our own. Humanity’s been suffering for so long. How much of it has been at the hands of your kind?!” You knew you were letting your emotions get the best of you, but you didn’t care. You roughly grabbed the barrel of the gun and pointed it at your chest. You smirked to yourself at the look on his face at the move he wasn’t expecting from you. “I bet you probably look at me like I’m a speck on humanity. A monster created by Lucifer. I agree with you. But you know what I see when I look at you? A coward.”

You let the insult sink deep into his mind, wanting to show him how you viewed him. How much damage he was inflicting on the creatures he only loved for one thing. “You have so much power to do good...and yet you choose to sit here in your safe little world. Reading fictional stories of people that aren’t real when there are billions of stories out there! Stories rich with things writers could only dream about capturing into words. And I bet you would love it. But that would mean sticking your head out and having to face the mess your siblings made.” You mocked him for the choices he made, wanting to show him just the slightest amount of frustration you were feeling at the moment. “At least I’m doing something to make sure my child has a better life than mine. I’m sure you’re familiar with my story. But you know what story I want you to hear? It’s about a kid named Kevin Tran.”

“He was a good, straight-A kid, and then he got sucked into all of this angel crap and became a prophet of the word of God—your prophet.” Dean continued on with the story about the kid who was thrown into this lifestyle without a choice. Who lost his mother and his own life, despite all of your attempts to make sure his was safe. While the angel in front of you did nothing but kick up his feet up with a book and continued to ignore the world around him. “And you should have been looking out for him, but no! Instead, you’re here, holed up, reading books.”

“He’s dead now because of you.” You said. You let the news sink in, watching as his face slowly began to fall at hearing the life of a prophet translating his work caused his own life. It was all of your faults for the choices you made, Metatron’s as well. While he sat on his ass reading his books and pretending the real world didn’t exist, the life of a was taken. “Did any of your books teach you about guilt? About the feeling of someone’s blood on your own hands?”

Metatron was your last hope at trying to figure out the third trial and closing the gates of hell. You thought making him realize the damage he was inflicting and how much good he could give to the world might change his mind. All you wanted was the third trial. But he offered you so much more. He offered you a chance at getting back the kid who helped you in the first place, Kevin. It seemed his story never ended, someone just wanted to make an unexpected appearance. You knew Crowley was behind this all along, but you were stupid to think he would have killed his favorite prophet. The details didn't matter to you. All you cared about was the kid sitting in the chair you had been in just a few minutes ago.

You felt a sigh of relief finally escape from you at the sight of Kevin back in your sight. Metatron used some of his angelic powers to get the kid out from Crowley's grasp before he could really end up dead. He was in worse shape from the last time you saw him, but the bruises on his body slowly faded away when the angel placed a hand on the kid's chest and healed him from the inside out.

“Is that it?” Dean couldn’t help himself but ask, wondering if things were going to finally be okay for once. “Is he good?”

“Give him a minute.” Metatron said.

You and Sam decided to keep an eye out for any sort of progress on Kevin and greet him when he finally came back around. Metatron stepped away and headed to the kitchen area, Dean followed behind a few seconds after, having a few questions of his own. He lingered in the doorway, watching as the angel grabbed himself a cup.

“How did you get past Crowley’s angel warding?” Dean curiously asked.

“I’m the scribe of God.” Metatron answered with a shrug. “I erased it.”

“But you saw, right? I mean you’re caught up on everything that’s been going on, all the crap that your brethren’s been doing to humanity all of this time?” The older Winchester wondered, hoping all the gaps and messes made over the years were

“I saved the boy, didn’t I?” Metatron answered the hunter’s question with another.

“But are you in? With us, I mean.” Dean asked the angel straight out. Angels didn’t do things for them out of the kindness of their own cold stone hearts. It always came with a price. However it seemed on the surface Metatron was different from his siblings. He didn’t want anything from them and he didn’t need help getting something. He just wanted an answer to his question.

“Y/N really intends on closing the doors of hell?” Metatron wondered for himself.

“It’s not my first choice, but things didn’t work out the way I wanted. She feels like it’s her...duty. After everything she was put through by them, she wants to make sure no more evil comes out of that place.” Dean said. He turned his head and spotted you standing there with your arms crossed over your chest, staring intently at the prophet and waiting for any kind of sign he was going to wake up. His eyes slowly drifted to the bump that stuck out like a sore thumb. The reason why you were doing this in the first place. “Seems like the thing to do, don’t it?”

“Character redemption arc. Do good in order to wash away the evil created. It’s her choice, taking on this journey. Especially in the condition she’s in. And that’s what this has all been about—the choices your kind makes.” Metatron said. Dean turned his head to look back at the angel to head what he was saying. “But you're gonna have to weigh that choice. Ask yourself, 'What is it going to take to do this,' and 'What will the world be like after it's done?'"

Dean wondered for a second what the angel might have meant by those words, before he could ask any questions to dig further, his attention was pulled away by the sound of Sam’s voice coming from the other room. He headed over to see what the fuss was about. A smile began to creep at the ends of his lips at the sight of Kevin slowly coming back around to consciousness. For a while Dean thought the kid was long gone. He felt a sense of relief come over him at the sight of him back in his sight, safe and okay.

“Kevin? Hey.” Dean placed a hand on the chair and leaned down just enough to get a better view on the kid, watching as he slowly began to come back around, smiling at him. The older man let out a chuckle. “We thought we lost you, kiddo.”

“I’m good.” Kevin reassured all of you. He pulled something out from his button up, an object that had been a pain in the ass for months now. You felt your lips stretch wider at the sight of the demon tablet. “Second half of the tablet, and I got it. Third trial. I didn’t tell Crowley.”

“So what is it?” You asked, eager to hear the very last step you had to do.

“To cure a demon.”

You looked over to see Metatron had given you the final step in closing the gates of hell. He stood on the other side of the room, his attention on the prophet he saved from the clutches of Crowley. “Yeah.” Kevin agreed. He looked over at the stranger and gave him a confused look, wondering for a second what the hell was going on. “Who are you?”

+ + +

For the first time in forever, you felt like you were seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. You had been spending these last few months struggling with the idea that all of this was happening. But it was. And the truth was approaching you faster than you could process. You were on your final step to closing the gates of hell. And you were going to have a real family in just a little over three months. A little baby who wasn't ever going to know about the monsters that haunted you all of your entire life. Hell, there was going to be future generations of children and their families who weren't going to fall into the same routine like the Winchester’s. All of this wasn't a fantasy you told yourself. It was actually happening.

Before you came on the trip you were feeling run down and not like yourself, there was no way of denying that from how the trials were taking a toll on your body. You didn't exactly picture this was how your pregnancy was going to go. However now that you knew what the third trial was, you could figure it out and get it done. After that, you could finally let out a breather and get back to your life. Well, it was a hopeful thought. You still remembered the warnings Cas had given you about how the trials were taking a toll on your body, there was a part of you that knew it was all going to be okay. Like you said to yourself earlier when you were remembering all those things, you had to suffer before you could get better. You needed to get...clean.

“Cure a demon? Okay, ignoring the fact that I have no idea what that means, if we do this, does that mean you’ll get better, right?” Dean’s voice broke you out of your concentration and brought your gaze up forward. He was happy about the lead all of you had, but there was still an angle of uncertainty about what all of you were walking into. “I mean, you’ll stop trying to cough up a lung and bumping into furniture?”

“I feel better, if I’m being honest, just having a direction to move in.” You told the boys.

“Well, good,” Dean felt a little bit of relief at hearing your second wind coming through for the things you were about to be up against. “‘cause where we’re headed doesn’t sound like a picnic.”

“I could say that about something else.” You joked to yourself. You placed a hand on your bump and smiled softly. "I don't care what I have to do. We're heading somewhere. The end.”

Curing a demon felt like something odd to say for a hunter. All though you knew a way to make one of those black eyed monsters was to send them to hell and twist their soul until it was dark as night, you knew there were other ways to do so. You softly bit the inside of your cheek and wondered to yourself about what this meant. You knew your father was a human who was turned into a demon...that was somehow turned into a human again. You thought back to what Abbadon had said to you when you first met her.

“Let’s just say I gave him a punishment that fit the crime. Your daddy wasn’t a very nice man.” You were still trying to figure out what that meant. He was a Men of Letters just like the boys’ grandfather, working on some big special project nobody knew about. Whatever it was, hell didn’t like it. And they wanted to make him one of them. Part of you wondered if he was the key to stopping all of this.

You were torn out from your thoughts when you felt the Impala suddenly coming to a screeching stop when Dean slammed his foot on the break. You quickly placed a hand on the front seat and steadied yourself while Dean attempted to swerve away from the person lying in the middle of the road. When the car was stopped and in park, you looked forward to see it was a familiar face you hadn't seen in weeks. You felt a rush of panic come over you as you got out of the car as fast as you could at the sight of a familiar face, bloody and beaten from what you could tell from the Impala’s headlights in the darkness of the night.

“Cas?!” You called out the angel’s name

You hadn’t seen him in weeks after he took the angel tablet and ran for the hills. Not a single call or peep had come out from him. You were worried about him, and it seemed the worst had happened to him. You studied his bloody and battered face from the pavement as you stood next to the backseat door, keeping a cautious distance from the angel. He had been messed with by other angels, and while he was supposedly free, it wasn’t the first time Cas had ran off and did things for his own agenda and not caring about his friends. But it seemed you had your old Cas back.

“A little help here?”

You and the boys shared an uneasy look about what was happening all of a sudden. You shrugged your shoulders, staying back while the boys went over to help the angel back up to his feet. You were overjoyed to see Cas again. But there was another part of you that was angry. Betrayed at how he vanished into thin air. You had so much going on right now. You didn’t have time to deal with whatever crap he landed himself in. You were so close to getting what you wanted, there was nothing standing in your way of closing the gates of hell and shutting away the very thing that has haunted you.

[Next Part]

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 5 years ago

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We’ll Carry On - Chapter Fifty

We’ll Carry On Tag

General Content Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Substance Abuse, Abandonment, Minor Character Death, Transphobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dissociation, Bullying, Homophobia

July 13th, 2018

Roman didn’t understand. There was a woman walking down the street, and people were laughing and jeering at her. She had a bit of a five o’clock shadow, and her jaw was a little more square than most women, but she was wearing a dress and she had breasts, so she had to be a woman, right?

He didn’t say anything as she passed him, but he smiled kindly at her and mouthed, “You’re beautiful.”

She lit up like he had just hung the moon and signed something, that Roman thought was a “Thank you.”

“Roman!” the horrible woman shouted. “Don’t socialize with those types! You will not be that in my house!”

Roman cringed, but he stood by his words. He thought the woman was truly beautiful.

June 16th, 2020

Roman was excited. Some might say a little too excited, but no one could really blame him. He was going through his freshman orientation at the local high school, and had signed up for all his classes, making sure to pick Drama as one of his class choices. As his backup, he had put Drawing and Pottery, because both of those could be pretty cool, too, but he really hoped he got to have Drama as his art course.

The high school was a big place, but right now, he was just eating lunch with Chad and a few of the kids they had gotten to go on a tour of the buildings with. All of them were talking about what classes they wanted to take and clubs they wanted to join with wide eyes. Roman knew he had a bit of the excitement bug too, but his was curbed somewhat. “Trust me, guys, it seems cool now but there’s gonna come a day where you can’t wait for summer break,” Roman said. “Logan insists that he’s ready for winter break by October.”

“Your older brother is hardly a paragon of knowledge,” one of the girls, Ellie, snorted.

“True, but he’s going to be a senior next year, so I think he knows what he’s talking about,” Roman said. “Anecdotally speaking.”

“Mm, I agree with Roman,” one of the boys, Rocky, said. “My older sister can’t stand going to high school by November.”

“Wait, is your brother Logan Picani?” a third kid, a girl by the name of Maria, asked.

“Yes? Do you know him?” Roman asked. Suddenly he felt like he needed to be on guard and he didn’t know why.

“My older brother knows her. She’s the transsexual that was in his calc class,” Maria said. She wrinkled her nose. “Personally, I don’t understand why anyone would make that sort of life choice.”

Roman blinked once. Twice. Saw red for a couple seconds. Took a deep breath. Laughed with ice and venom blending together in his voice. “Okay, first of all, he is transgender, not transsexual. Transsexual is an outdated term that many people in the community find offensive, from what I’ve been told. Second of all, being transgender is not a choice. He wanted to be true to himself and because his parents disagreed, he was kicked out. So my dads adopted him. Being transgender isn’t easy. It brings all sorts of unwanted attention, and Logan has told me that if he had the chance to be cis, with either gender on the binary, he would take it.

“He gets all sorts of rude comments, from people who are close-minded bigots like your brother. And if you point me in the direction of your brother, I’d love to knock some common sense and LGBT terminology into his head. Especially considering that I’m bi and would like to be respected that way. So, let’s see: my dads are a gay couple, my older brother’s trans and queer, I’m bi, one of my younger siblings is nonbinary. Is there anything else I can say about my family that would disgust you into leaving this group and never calling my brother a transsexual again?”

Maria stared at him, shock and disgust warring for control on her face. “How could you possibly encourage that sort of thing?! Don’t you know you can go to Hell for that?”

“Provided that even is true, which I severely doubt, Hell will be fabulous and I will happily live with my brothers, my sibling, and my two dads there for all eternity. But if you can go to Hell for being gay, why would a higher power even make gay people? Huh? Riddle me that!”

“It’s obviously a test,” Maria snapped back. “Proving that you’re strong in your faith, and you won’t give in to the temptation of sexual desires!”

Roman blinked. “Wow. I...just...wow. I feel really sorry for you, Maria. Your parents must be real pieces of work for you to believe that.”

Maria huffed and crossed her arms. “Whatever. I don’t approve of your choices, but we can still be friends. Love the sinner and hate the sin.”

“Uh, no, we can’t be friends, because the ‘sin’ you’re hating is literally a piece of me. Frankly, if you believe all that BS that you just spouted, I wouldn’t want to be friends with you anyway. That’s just wrong on so many levels.”

Maria growled, grabbed her lunch, and stood. “Well, then. I hope you enjoy Hell, because that’s where you’re going!”

“God is dead, and the gays killed Him!” Chad hollered after her back, laughing.

“Oof, I’m glad we avoided that one early,” Ellie said.

“Yeah,” Roman agreed. “Honestly, I don’t think that Hell...is a place? Exactly? And you certainly don’t go there for loving someone who’s the same gender as you.”

Murmured agreement came from the whole group. “What does nonbinary mean?” Rocky asked.

“Oh, it just means you don’t feel like you’re a boy or a girl,” Roman said, returning to his lunch.

There was a beat of silence before Rocky asked, “There’s a word for that?!”

“Yes...?” Roman asked. “Do you feel like that fits you?”

“Yeah, a little!” Rocky agreed. “I always felt like...kind of a boy, kind of not? It’s confusing. But I don’t have to be a boy, I can be nonbinary!”

“Yeah! Look up nonbinary stuff online, you’ll learn a bunch, and you might find a more specific label that you like,” Roman encouraged.

Rocky pulled out his phone with a grin and Chad laughed. “Well, today is a day full of discoveries, huh?” he asked. “I think I see my parents pulling up, though, so I’ll have to say goodbye for now. I’ll see you guys around this summer, and at school in September!”

“Yeah, see you!” Roman said, as everyone else bid Chad goodbye, too.

Soon after, Roman saw Logan pull up in the school parking lot, and get out of the car. Unfortunately, Maria was walking over to a car two spaces down, and a guy who looked like he could be a linebacker for the football team was waiting for her. Roman said his goodbye’s quickly and jogged over to Logan. “Hey, man, let’s get out of here,” Roman hissed. “That girl with the freckles? Massive transphobe, and her brother—”

“I’m well aware of who her brother is,” Logan said coolly. “Jeremy has seen fit to torment me ever since I legally got my name changed. Insists on using it only because it’s what’s on my papers, but claims that because I’m still ‘Female’ on my birth certificate-which he doesn’t even know for sure-that he can use ‘she’ and ‘her’ for me. He’s a brat.”

Roman pulled a face. “Gross.”

“Indeed,” Logan said.

Maria caught a glimpse of them and stalked over, her brother following behind. “He’s the one! He’s the one who said that I’m wrong!”

“Well, yeah, you are wrong,” Roman said. “I’m not going to Hell. Even if I were, I would be happy to go.”

“Should have known he was the brother of the tranny, here,” Jeremy sneered.

Roman scowled and balled his hands into fists, sucker-punching Jeremy hard right below the ribcage. Jeremy crumpled inward, gasping for air. “Don’t call my brother that word ever again!” Roman bellowed. “C’mon, Lo. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

“No complaints from me,” Logan said. They both got in the car and drove away. Once they were on the road, Logan said, “You realize Dad and Ami are probably going to get a very angry call from either that idiot’s mother or someone from the school?”

“Eh,” Roman said with a shrug. “Worth it.”

“I certainly hope so,” Logan sighed, “Because you just put a giant target on your back.”

Roman shrugged again. “I’m not going to stand by while you get insulted, Logan.”

“You sound just like Jack,” Logan said with an eye-roll. “It’s annoying. Cute, in a way, but definitely annoying.”

Roman gave Logan a grin. “That’s a high compliment you know. Sounding like your boyfriend.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Logan said, shaking his head and smirking.

“Oh, so I guess I should tell your boyfriend your highly-esteemed opinion of him?” Roman asked, snatching Logan’s phone from the cupholder it had been residing in.

“Roman!” Logan shrieked indignantly, using one hand to blindly grab for his phone even as he kept his eyes on the road. “Give me that!”

Roman gleefully held it out of Logan’s reach as he dictated what he was typing. “Hey Jack...Roman here. Your boyfriend thinks that comparing someone to you...isn’t...a...compliment! Ha!”

“Give it back!” Logan exclaimed, lunging for the phone and yanking it free of Roman’s grasp, at the price of nearly swerving off the road.

“Too late, it’s already sent!” Roman exclaimed.

Logan locked his phone and dropped it back in the cupholder. “I hate you.”

Roman laughed unapologetically. “This is Jack, Lo. I doubt he’d break up with you over that. If anything, he’ll probably just respond with a ‘mood’ and be done with it.”

“I’m not worried about me, I’m worried about you,” Logan said.

As if on cue, Roman got three text alert messages in a row, and he could see they were all from Jack. More kept coming, and he arched his eyebrows. “How many texts is Jack going to send?”

“Probably around fifty,” Logan said casually. “Most of them about stealing my phone to send text messages, a couple calling you a snitch, some memes, at least one asking if I’m driving and that’s how you got to send the text, and the final two will probably be a ‘thank you for telling me’ and ‘but mood.’”

Roman watched his text count go up and his blood pressure with it. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered.

“This is Jack,” Logan said with a laugh. “It’s how he is always.”

“Doesn’t that get exhausting?” Roman asked.

“Well, he’s always tired, but I doubt that’s the reason,” Logan said. “If that’s the only life you ever know, and the only attitude you’ve ever had, I doubt it would be as exhausting as it is to you now.”

Roman made a huh noise. “Don’t you ever get overstimulated talking to him?”

Logan glanced at Roman. “I mean, sometimes, I guess. But not usually. I’ve gotten used to his energy, as it’s grown as both of us grew. To me, he has the same energy levels as he did when we were in kindergarten and he asked if he could call me ‘Jessie.’”

“Did you slug him for that?” Roman asked.

“Well I didn’t know I was trans yet,” Logan said. “So I wouldn’t have punched him over that. I just really hated the nickname. Though I don’t think I punched him for it. Because he asked once and then never again. Apparently I looked completely disgusted at the thought of being called that.”

Roman got quiet, all of his current questions answered. A thought occurred to him, along with a new question. “Do you think of yourself as...you know...your deadname, when you think back into the past?”

Logan hummed. “You know, I try not to, but when I think back to before I realized I was trans, I almost always think of myself as either ‘Jessica’ or ‘pre-Logan.’ I know most trans people eventually adjust and they say, ‘When I was a little boy,’ or ‘This is a picture of a tiny whatever-their-name-is.’ I haven’t made that adjustment. I’m not sure I’m ever going to, at this point.”

“That’s fair,” Roman said. “I don’t ever think of you as...as that, but—”

“Roman, you can say it. You can say Jessica, it’s not a dirty word,” Logan said. “So long as you don’t call me by that as if it were still my name, you can use it around me. It took me a while to distance myself from it, but now I can hear the name without flinching. You don’t ever think of me as Jessica. Just the sentiment behind that means I trust you to use that name, just never on me.”

“Yeah. I don’t ever think of you as Jessica, but it’s weird seeing traditionally feminine clothing on you. Jack showed me some old yearbooks, and I nearly got whiplash,” Roman said. “And I’ll always use Logan when referring to you, even as a little kid. Because the whole, ‘back when he was a she’ or ‘when current name was deadname’ thing is just scummy, especially if you don’t have permission to out that person.”

Logan smiled. “You’re one of the good ones, Roman. Thank you. Would you be willing to go to the GSA next year?”

“Definitely,” Roman said, nodding. “Especially because you’re Vice President.”

#we'll carry on #sanders sides fanfiction #roman sanders #logan sanders #our creations #danger gays

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keeper-of-the-lilacs · 5 years ago

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Character Profile - Hyacinth Delacroix

[ BASIC INFORMATION ]

[FULL NAME] Hyacinth Delacroix

[PRONOUNCED] ‘hahy-uh-sinth delah-kwAh’

[ALIASES] None at present

[GENDER] (Trans)female

[AGE] 28

[NAMEDAY] 24th Sun of the Third Astral Moon (5/24).

[RACE] Duskwight Elezen

[RELIGION] Patron Dieties are Halone and Thaliak

[LANGUAGES] Common, (whatever constitutes as French in Eorzea).

[ACCENT] Very, very slight French accent, ‘proper’ accent.

[HANDEDNESS] Right handed

[ APPEARANCE ]

[HAIR] A short hairstyle that just runs past her ears, the mess of wavy ash brown hair is kept clean and soft yet appears to grow too fast for the owner to keep it out of her eyes. Her bangs have a shock of white through them from a birthmark at her hairline.

[EARS] Long elezen ears that span outward.

[EYES] Light lavender, purple.

[COMPLEXION] Pale skin, constantly red from a telltale complexion.

[HEIGHT] 6′2″

[BUILD] Not entirely soft of features besides the innocent pudge to her face, Hyacinth is built for combat beneath her robes or armor. Her arms and legs are lithe with muscle, her long chest torso taut from years of training with the Holy See’s best. It has taken some minor fleshcrafting by an expert mage to bring a bit of feminine roundness to her form.

[POSTURE] Upright and proper, by years spent learning decorum and also from just general Anxiety.

[SCARS] Her body has light scars across her chest, arms, and legs. One can’t spend years as a knight without receiving a few mementos from one’s scaley foes.

[MARKINGS] No markings.

[MANNER OF DRESS] Hyacinth dresses modestly. If there is a gem or flashy bit of armor in her ensemble, it is guaranteed to be there merely for the magical or physical protection it brings and not to adorn her features. Before working in the company of Sthal’s companions and living in La Noscea, Hyacinth was typically in only armor or form-fitting masculine attire, however now she has broadened her range of clothes to include skirts and dresses for when she wishes to feel ‘pretty’.

[ COMBAT SKILL ]

[COMBAT CLASS] Lancer/Scholar -- ‘Academician’

[MELEE PROFICIENCY] None | Low | Intermediate | High | Masterful

[RANGED PROFICIENCY] None | Low | Intermediate | High | Masterful

[MAGICAL PROFICIENCY] None | Low | Intermediate | High | Masterful

[HEALING PROFICIENCY] None | Low | Intermediate | High | Masterful

[ATTRIBUTES] - - - STRENGTH: 14 (+2) - - - DEXTERITY: 14 (+2) - - - CONSTITUTION: 11 (+0) - - - INTELLIGENCE: 16 (+3) - - - WISDOM: 13 (+1) - - - CHARISMA: 7 (-2)

[WEAPONRY] A lance whose spear is topped with a crystal of dark purple hue and inconclusive material, sharpened to a deadly blade and nigh unbreakable (it has replaced her lance from her service as a knight, given to her by her mentor’s grandmother). Hyacinth also carries a grimoire with her on her belt. Occasionally she wields a rapier and dagger, or a bow.

[ARMOR] Hyacinth is typically in a mix of cloth and metal, preferred for the battlemage she has become.

[COMBAT STRENGTHS] Hyacinth is best at mid-range with her lance, which can take down foes much larger than her and keeps mounted foes at bay. It also keeps those with shorter blades from reaching her. The bow was part of her training as a knight and she is an acceptable shot by Ishgardian terms. Hyacinth can send ice attacks at her foes from mid-range to long range, which coupled with her lance attacks can be quite devastating. Ollie the fairy heals for her and her companions.

[COMBAT WEAKNESSES] Close range is Hyacinth’s downfall. Once an opponent gets past Hyacinth’s lance or bow, it is difficult for her to defend herself and gain back the advantage. Ollie also is not much for helping in combat, much preferring to heal and protect with shields; at close range, all he can do is shape-shift into something to surprise Hyacinth’s opponent to get her feet back under her.

[ EARLY YEARS ]

[HOMELAND] Ishgard

[PARENTS] Opert Delacroix, Aster Delacroix - Viscount & Viscountess Lavandiere

[SIBLINGS] Jacques/Jack the eldest brother (supposedly missing), Iris & Violet the eldest twin sisters, and Lily the youngest sister.

[REASON(S) FOR LEAVING] Hyacinth was originally a knight for House Hallienarte, but when they were under suspicion for heresy and Hyacinth was approached by the Holy See’s inquisition to join, she accepted to attempt to prove their innocence. The work was heartbreaking for the Echo user, who could see the innocence of the inquisition’s victims but could not prove to her colleagues that they were wrong; when her mentor Sthal got between the inquisitor Hyacinth was guarding--and proved he was a spy for the very heretics Hyacinth had been hunting--Hyacinth turned him in and then asked to be free of her service to Hallienarte. She visits her sister Iris there but never stays.

[ LATER YEARS ]

[PAST RESIDENCE] Ishgard.

[PAST OCCUPATION] Inquisition Knight.

[PAST AFFILIATION] Hallienarte, the Holy See.

[PAST FINANCIAL STATUS] Moderate, modest for a knight.

[PAST SOCIAL STATUS] Respected.

[PAST RELATIONSHIPS] Sir Gelert, brief relationship.

[PAST FRIENDSHIPS] Several friends among the knights under Hallienarte, before joining the inquisition of the Holy See. Several friends within the Scholasticate as well (open to connections in RP!)

[ PRESENT DAY ]

[RESIDENCE] A small residence in the Mists of Limsa Lominsa.

[OCCUPATION] Hyacinth would say she is just a ‘student’, with her time mainly spent either continuing her education of arcanum and aetherology under her mentor or in researching her various pet projects. However, she also deals in relic hunting and leads her own expeditions, and her projects typically have her hiring others to help her in dangerous areas. Her work goes towards the betterment of Eorzea with the Scions, though she might open her own adventurer company eventually.

[AFFILIATIONS] Hyacinth is affiliated with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, as a member of their order (this is something not RPed to the public, only to individuals interested with their own Scion/WoL OCs). She is also affiliated with the Scholasticate in Ishgard and the Arcanist Guild in Limsa Lominsa, although the latter is merely from her mentor being a professor there and her being considered his assistant.

[FINANCIAL STATUS] After her brother Jack’s return, and his naming Hyacinth as the heir to the estate of Lavandiere, the funds afforded to her by the will of her parents has allowed her to live comfortably in the Mists, and funded her many projects with the help of her steward, and her brother’s (perhaps sordid) businesses.

[SOCIAL STATUS] Though she’s the heir to minor nobility, this afford’s Hyacinth little regard outside of Ishgard. Her work as a scholar in her field of aetherology, however, gives her more aplomb in academic circles.

[RELATIONSHIP STATUS] Single, not terribly interested.

[PRESENT FRIENDSHIPS] Too bashful to make new friends, Hyacinth as a few acquaintances. Perhaps her only current friend is one Pfarblyss (@walkingflowerxiv)

[VICES] Exhaustion is a constant companion for Hyacinth; she is constantly overworking herself, especially if she’s close to finishing a project or has the need to finish it for an important/difficult matter. Hyacinth is also very gullible at times and sometimes duped into bad situations from believing a sob story she shouldn’t have.

[ ROMANCE & SEX ]

[GENDER IDENTITY] Transgender female.

[ROMANTIC ORIENTATION] Heteromantic

[EMOTIONAL ROLE] Submissive | Dominant | Switch | Unsure

[RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES] Close quarters with other, bawdier knights led an inquisitive Hyacinth to have several innocent relationships as a young adult; the last one she had was the only one that was physical as well as romantic. Ever since the death of her committed partner, Hyacinth has alienated herself from the idea of having another committed relationship.

[LOVE LANGUAGE] Hyacinth’s love is very verbal--she loves giving and receiving affection by words, in written or spoken form. Receiving gifts makes her uncomfortable in a relationship, and while she can show affection through touch, she couldn’t spend hours snuggling--holding hands and reaching out for the other, however, is a constant.

[SEXUAL ORIENTATION] Asexual (sex positive)

[SEXUAL ROLE] Submissive | Dominant | Switch | Unsure

[LIBIDO] Average/Below Average. Hyacinth does not feel sexual attraction, but her sexual urges are medium. She can warm up to the idea of having sex with a committed partner but prefers to handle it herself, alone.

[ATTRACTED TO] Empathy/kindness. Honorable. Calm decision-making. Intelligence, or a constant love to learn. Humor. Honesty. Reliable.

[TURN OFFS] Ignorance. Secrets. Excuses, or an inability to be responsible for one’s actions. Disloyalty.

[ PERSONALITY TRAITS ]

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

[ HOOKS ]

Knight of Ishgard Whether you’re a noble, a commoner, a fellow knight of Hallienarte or another noble house, or even a part of the Holy See, you have probably met or seen the brunette Elezen with a streak of white in her hair in Coerthas.

Student, Researcher, Mage In Ishgard it was hard to find an organized school for magick, outside the Scholasticate; one needs to either tutor themselves or seek one out if they have the means or money. Therefore it was in the last few years that Hyacinth has appeared in academic circles, with her being sighted in Limsa Lominsa on her way to the Arcanist Guild, or sitting in for talks or lectures at many halls in the city-states of Eorzea. She is known as a talented mage with arcanum and ice-aspected thaumaturgy, and the assistant of Sthalward Khannfyrsyn, a Scholar and professor to the Arcanist Guild. A perfect acquaintance for anyone academically inclined.

Expedition Leader Are you an adventurer in need of some gil? Looking for a job, and find protecting one skinny stick of an Elezen an easy way to line coin in your pockets? Hyacinth is regularly sending leves to the adventurer guilds of Eorzea for people to add to her expeditions, or in gathering miscellaneous ingredients needed for a project or two. Contact her for a job or a permanent position in her team, if interested.

Researching the Unknown of Summoning Magick Before her mentor left for the new world, he left Hyacinth with a curious gem that seemed to be all too similar to a Scholar’s soulstone. Inside was an arguable breakthrough in research for Allagan summoning and the techniques of the Nymian scholars--a shape-changing lesser elemental by the name of Oleander. This is the current overarcing plot for Hyacinth, who is constantly found with this carbuncle/fairy; his typical forms are a sheep or a mouse, and he can be determined by his occasional hiccuping of bubbles or random change to a different form. Hyacinth is very interested in meeting other summoners/scholars/allagan or Nymian interested individuals/masters of arcanum for this very reason.

Scion of the Seventh Dawn Mostly in personal writing, Hyacinth is a Scion, about the same in importance as Arenvald or Riol merely because she isn’t constantly interacting with the WoL but having a secondary role in information gathering and research. If anyone has any Scion OCs or NPCs, it can be RPed that she knows and works with them. Tentatively, I am also open to the idea of her knowing and working with WoL OCs as well, in assumed noncanon RP unless I feel that a WoL OC can eclipse the placeholder I have in my personal writing, my NPC Sthalward Khannfyrsyn.

Any other ideas? If you’ve read over Hyacinth’s profile and have a different idea for walk up RP or plot, feel free to message me about them! I am open to many different connections for her to help flesh her out further.

[ OOC ]

Please don’t contact me for ERP-heavy/only connections. My character is asexual and I would like that to be respected.

No f*ta or trap characters conceived for fetishistic reasons. Just...no.

I will not RP at minors. Sorry, but please be above 18 if you contact me.

Very Important: I work and am up mainly between 10 pm - 2 pm EST because of my work. If you can handle someone who has the hours of a vampire, that’s great! If you cannot, there at least is RP in google docs or discord that I can also do outside of in-game RP, though for any plot heavy RP I’d prefer to do some scenes in-game.

#mateus rp #crystal server rp #ffxiv rp #I did iiit I finally gave my main a rp profile

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