#they are only children and orphans who do NOT like having to share their dad

[weirdo-from-bonesborough]

Dick Grayson, age nine, looking up at Clark with blue eyes that promise death warning, “Batman’s best friend is Robin. Not Superman.”

[sashaisready]

Since You've Been Gone: Chapter 1

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Series Masterlist

After a regrettable first meeting in the cemetery, you discover that you have something in common with a certain member of the Avengers. Unfortunately, you can't choose your neighbours, even in death.

(Setting is approx. post TFATWS)

Hi, I'm back! I have no idea where this came from, or where it's going! So apologies as updates may not be consistent while I figure it out. Warnings for death of parents, grief, mentions of cemetery/graves - please tread carefully if these are triggers for you.

🍂

It was a chilly Autumn day, but not unbearable. Your coat could more than handle the frigid breeze. You squinted at the headstone as you crouched on your knees, angling your head to make sure you hadn’t left any streaks or marks from the polish. Satisfied with your performance, you trimmed a few of the roses that were leaning against it before standing and taking a step back to admire your handiwork.

Immaculate as always, so neat you could almost be fooled into thinking you weren’t even outside. You could hear your parents’ voices in your head now, joking about being able to keep their graves far cleaner that you ever managed your bedroom to be, their frequent nags falling on deaf adolescent ears.

You smiled sadly as you looked at the intricately engraved text below their names on the shared stone:

Beloved parents taken too soon,

Waiting in heaven to be reunited with their only daughter

You’d never really like that phrasing; it was a little too whimsical for your tastes – especially all these years later. But a recently orphaned teenager wasn’t exactly an expert in choosing the best headstone wording. You’d been more than happy to let your aunt and the funeral home lead the way, too paralysed by grief to make even the smallest decisions in the hellscape that was death admin.

Still, you’d never want to upset your aunt by getting it changed, there’s a lot of strange emotion tied up in grief even when time has passed, and that mourning teen has become an adult. And it wasn’t like new headstones were cheap anyway…

As you packed up your cleaning kit your attention was drawn to the two graves next to your parents’ - George and Winnifred Barnes. They had both passed several decades earlier, long before your parents were buried next to them. They had died only a few months apart according to the text…maybe they’d couldn’t survive without each other.

It was easy to infer that they no longer had anyone left earthside. The graves had been long untouched, unkempt, and overgrown, the inscriptions getting harder to read – and you’d never seen any evidence of a visitor in all your time coming here. Except of course when the cemetery staff did one of their occasional mass clean-ups of the neglected graves.

About a year ago, you’d started tending to them alongside your parents. You weren’t sure why, it just seemed like the right thing to do. They were neighbours after all. And you’d want someone to do the same for your mum and dad if you weren’t around.

You’d cleaned their stones, wiped away the grime and given them a decent polish. You’d trimmed back the weeds and laid fresh flowers. The first time took a while, but after you’d got them to a reasonable standard it was all pretty easy to maintain.

You’d often wondered who they were. What they were like. The dates suggested they’d died of old age, a luxury your parents didn’t have. Were they kind? Funny? What hobbies did they have? They were around during the war, that must’ve been tough. You knew from the inscriptions that they had children who would’ve been over hundred by now. Maybe no grandchildren which is why nobody came by to see them anymore. It made you feel sad, how we could all be just a few generations away from being forgotten entirely. At least you could try to remember them.

You gave their graves a quick once over, took away the dead flowers and added some fresh roses in their place.

“Well, I’m done,” you said aloud, “see you soon, mum and dad. And you too, George and Winnifred. Sleep well”.

You sighed, walking back to your car and back to your life. You knew all too well that the dead may be still, but the world continues around them.

🍂

A week later you were back at the cemetery with your cleaning kit slung over your back, your arms full of fresh flowers.

“Afternoon, mum and dad,” you said as you placed your kit and flowers down and pulled out the foam pad that you used to kneel on, “and you, George and Winnifred”.

“Work has been kicking my ass this week,” you sighed as you got to work on your parents’ stone. “There’s only so much I can take of Brock’s moaning about the numbers…it’s getting harder not to smash my keyboard over his head – yeah I know, violence isn’t the answer, blah-blah-blah…”

You worked diligently, chatting away as you went through your maintenance tasks. It was nice, talking to them like this. You could say anything, really. No judgements, no admonishment, just silent acceptance of everything you told them. It was a bit like therapy for you. You often imagined your parents were sitting behind you as you spoke, just out of sight.

You liked to use old newspaper to buff up the marble. As you gathered your things together, you glanced at some of the headlines from the copy you’d brought with you. Lots of dreary grimness unfortunately. There was also a longread feature on the Avengers and where they were now, their photographs lined up across the top of the page. It was sad that a few of them were dead now, or at least no longer here. You felt a pang of sadness for their loved ones – you knew what that was like.

You didn’t know all the details of The Avengers and their associates, but like everyone else you knew the basics. It was a strange time, just a decade or so ago nobody had ever thought superheroes really existed…but then all of these ‘enhanced’ people started crawling out of the woodwork, revealing weapons and technology that previously had only existed in sci-fi movies. It was hard to believe, really.

You scanned the newspaper page, looking at the pictures for a few moments. You took your time studying their faces before sighing and placing it back down.

“All done…now let’s help out George and Winnie over here, looks like you guys need some new flowers…and all that heavy rain we’ve been having has really done a number on your stones…let me just-”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the gruff voice behind you demanded, causing you such a shock that you nearly joined your parents.

You spun your body away from the graves, horrified to see a man looming over you as you stared at him open-mouthed in surprise. You hadn’t heard him approach, not quite understanding how you hadn’t noticed him coming at all…

“I said what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he repeated to you, his blue eyes alight with anger.

He was big. Bigger than you. Even under his coat you could see his broad shoulders. A mop of dark hair framed his face, most likely quite an attractive face when it wasn’t pulled into a furious sneer like it was now. He wore black gloves as he pointed at you accusingly. The fact that you were kneeling on the ground while he stood towering at his full height had not gone unnoticed by you.

There was something strangely familiar about him, but you couldn’t place it. Did he shop at the same market as you? You couldn’t quite…

“I’m…I’m just-” you spluttered as you fumbled for the words, still caught in your surprise and the fact that this normally serene time had been interrupted by a stranger yelling at you…

“Get away from there!” he snarled.

You quickly realised he was talking about the Barnes’ graves. You bounced backwards, landing painfully on your ass in your desperation to do what he said. He had a chilling air of authority that you didn’t want to screw with. You weren’t trying to piss off an angry man while you were out here all alone…

“I was just tidying them up,” you managed weakly as you sat up and clutched at the flowers.

“Nobody asked you to,” he scoffed in response as he leaned over and ran a gloved finger over Winnifred’s inscription, “you shouldn’t be clambering all over graves of people you don’t know”.

You frowned as the initial shock of the encounter wore off, now annoyed now at his abrupt rudeness towards you when you only had good intentions.

“Oh, and you know them, do you?” you snapped back sharply as your felt your emotions surge and your eyes water, your cheeks hot with mortification, “well, nobody has been to visit those graves in years so-”

“Yeah, actually I do know them - I’m their son,” he spat furiously.

Your head bounced back in surprise and confusion. You curled your lip and frowned at his strange claim, he appeared to be his mid-to-late 30s at most – many years away from the very elderly man he’d need to be for that to be true.

What was his goal here, exactly?

Was this guy just looking to start an argument and decided you’d be his target? Spouting off nonsense about random graves just to mess with you?

And where did you know him from?

Despite your survival instincts, you couldn’t help but fight back. You didn’t appreciate being messed with at the best of times, let alone when you were only here to visit your deceased loved ones. Who came to a graveyard to fuck with people? And yell at them?!

“Huh? Son?” you scoffed with derision and jabbed a finger towards the inscriptions about their children, “well, that can’t be true as that would mean their kids would have to be over a hundred…and how many one-hundred-year-olds look like you…?”

“I’m 107 years old, actually,” he said venomously. He sounded utterly sincere despite the ludicrousness of his claim. His face was sullen, his eyes piercing.

You ignored the shudder that threatened to roll through you in response. It was a strangely familiar expression on his face.

Where had you seen that look?

“Oh, yeah! You’re 107…Sure!” you laughed sarcastically. “You just have the greatest plastic surgeon of all time, in fact there’s a bunch of centenarians wandering around looking thirt-”

You trailed off as a wave of recognition suddenly hit you and the penny dropped. Oh. Oh.

He wasn’t from the market…

It was him.

Your eyes panned down to the crumpled newspaper lying next to you. The same man’s face scrutinised you from the page, an exact mirror image of the brooding 3D version in front of you. A little older now, but still unmistakably the same man.

Oh!

Now you remembered that same picture on the news. Read about the terrible things he’d done before when he was under hypnosis. For the Nazis? The Soviets? Both? Flashes of recollection hit you at once, disjointed and scattered.

It wasn’t really him doing all of it, it was a mind control thing, they’d said. He was like the Captain…the first one from the 40s. Kept young…somehow. He had a robot arm. Then there was the big government pardon after he’d helped to save the world. The deep dive the New York Times had done on his assassin past. What had they said he was called? Iceman? Winter? Winter hitman?

The Winter Soldier.

Barton? Baines? No, Barnes.

Barnes.

As in…son of Winnifred and George?

Ah.

He must’ve seen your train of thought written all over your face as he nodded solemnly at you.

“Yeah. It’s me. And I only found their resting place a few weeks ago,” he said with disdain.

You got to your feet, taking a few cautious steps backwards. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. You didn’t need to be a jerk - I’ve just been coming here for years, and I’d never seen…”

You trailed off, he didn’t care. His focus was on the graves, one gloved hand gripping the top of his father’s stone as he peered down at the grass below.

You turned to leave, giving him his privacy, “I’m sorry for your loss,” you mumbled quietly as you picked up your kit.

You started to head back to your car, then turned to face him again after a couple of steps. You warily moved back towards him and leaned over, placing a single flower between the feet of his parents’ graves. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t pick it up and throw it back in your face, either.

As you walked away, you thought you felt the weight of his gaze on your back.

🍂

Another week passed and you were back at the cemetery once more, working the usual routine and doing your best to forget what had happened the last time you were here. Upsetting a war veteran slash Avengers superhero by accusing him of not being his parents’ child was impressively incompetent, even by your standards. But in your defence, he did just start yelling at you out of nowhere. And you were only trying to help. And he was a literal defiance of nature, time, and aging…

But then again, people weren’t always their best selves in a cemetery. It wasn’t exactly Happy Hour over here. And you’d probably freak out too if you caught a stranger tinkering around with the resting place of your parents. The parents who died of old age while you were cryogenically frozen and a prisoner in your own body…

You’d done a little more reading up on him, James Buchanan Barnes. ‘Bucky’. The man behind the scary winter soldier mask. The older images of him in his combat gear were chilling, as were the alleged stats of his kills, but mainly you just felt immense empathy for a man out of time. A man who had lost his youth, a limb, his autonomy, and everybody he once knew from his old life.

You tried to put it out of your mind, catching your parents up on what they’d missed and pretty-ing things up a little around their plot. You didn’t touch the Barnes’ this time, just gave them a little wave and concentrated on your own flesh and blood.

You were a million miles away, lost in the quiet fog that often seemed to overtake you when you were working in the cemetery. It was peaceful, really. This was the one place you could switch your brain off and quiet the chatter of your head, just concentrate on the tasks you knew so well by now that your hands did them on muscle memory alone.

You were just adjusting the newest flowers when a voice interrupted you.

“Hey,” it said.

It startled you as you were still in your own world and hadn’t heard anyone else approach. You whirled around slightly panicked as a pair of eyes the colour of sapphires met yours.

It was him again.

“Oh, hello,” you replied quietly.

He stared over at you, wrapped up in his coat as he was last time. His stare was still intense despite appearing much calmer than when you first met him. He wore black pants and boots, his hands tucked away into his pockets, a dark backpack slung over his shoulder. His face was more relaxed than it was during your first encounter. His blue eyes were just as arresting, but the absence of anger made them sparkle rather than burn. He had a soft dusting of stubble across his taut jawline, his dark hair was pulled back behind his head as he absent-mindedly ran a hand over it. He was…

…hot?

Fuck.

He nodded at you in acknowledgement and moved to George and Winnifred’s plot, kneeling in front of their stones. He pulled a candle out from his backpack and lit it with a lighter, placing it between where his parents lay.

You turned away sharply, not wanting to look like you were intruding during what was clearly a private moment of mourning. You focused on your own parents’ graves, clipping back the flowers as quietly as possible.

The two of you continued doing your own thing, the awkwardness thick in the air. You remembered how furious he’d been with you last time. You considered saying something, trying to explain that you were only trying to maintain the graves, but you didn’t want to provide any more ammunition for potential anger. Instead, you continued your routine in silence, keeping your eyes down.

After you finished you packed up your stuff and cleared your throat, ‘uh, bye,” you said quietly to him as you hurried down the path and back towards your car. He didn’t respond, but looked up at you as you passed, studying you intently.

[intuitive-revelations]

I've got a kind-of crack theory about Ruby's mother...

Back in The Church on Ruby Road, Ruby is invited onto Long Lost Family, a genealogy TV program hosted by Davina McCall, with the hope of finding some information about her bio family. Unfortunately, they come up with nothing.

[ID: 6 gifs showing Ruby and Davina McCall talking to each other on the phone from The Church on Ruby Road. Davina apologies to Ruby, who tries to hide her upset at the news.

DAVINA: "There is no trace of your mum or dad. I'm sorry. It happens sometimes." RUBY: "No, that's fine... Thanks but, um, could you keep looking?" DAVINA: "No, there's nothing more we can do. If your parents aren't on some kind of database, we can't find them." RUBY: "Ok, um... isn't that unusual though? There's not a single trace anywhere? I mean... in the whole wide world, my mother's never left a blood sample or anythin'?"]

Now obviously, I know tracking down family is hard and, especially for orphans and adopted children, there's no gurantee that you'll be able to get the information you need. But I do find it odd there's seemingly "no trace" of Ruby's parents.

The section where I go on an odd tangent about genealogy

Speaking as someone who isn't a genealogist, but does enjoy researching family history in what little spare time they have... in my experience, close DNA matches aren't that hard to find. Especially if you're of white european descent, as Ruby is (presumably).

(It's generally harder for other ethnicities, as most research resources are white english/american focused. I know this is especially tricky for people like african-americans, where many of one's ancestors may have been enslaved. I've personally also found it tricky with Jewish communities as historically many of them used patronymic names prior to the 1800s, plus you have to account for immigration name changes, pogroms etc.)

For example, as someone who is white, with a mix of various british, mainland european, and ashkenazi ancestors, I actually have thousands of DNA matches, just from an autosomal test on Ancestry alone, let alone something like an mtDNA, xDNA or yDNA test:

[ID: Edited screenshot showing maternal and paternal DNA matches on my AncestryDNA profile. There are 16279 maternal matches and 9745 paternal matches.]

Obviously, due to the way family trees work, most of these are distant matches, however it does include plenty of close ones too, which I've been able to trace to real records and identify relationships with. Personally, my matches even already include many 1st and 2nd cousins, albeit usually a one or two degrees removed, especially as the userbase tends to swing older on these websites. This includes a few people close enough for me to have already known them from family functions and shared annecdotes. Meanwhile, where I did have blank spots, from immigrations, estranged family members, early deaths etc, I've been able to fill in a lot of information.

So what does it mean that there's "no trace" of Ruby's family?

Deliberate or not?

The big question I've had since The Church on Ruby Road is: just how untraceable is Ruby's family?

On one hand, I feel like if this was real life and professional TV genealogists were helping you, you'd get a bit more information than a quick phone call saying they've got zilch. If they're sharing nothing... do they literally have nothing?

On the other hand, this also feels like a writing shortcut. We don't really need 3 hours of Davina McCall sat with Ruby at a computer breaking down every question and theory about possible family members. Ultimately, this was probably just a way to quickly get some major exposition out there, plus throw in a Christmas celebrity cameo for casual viewers. The fact they only talk about Ruby's "parents" being in a DNA database, and no-one else, doesn't give me a lot of faith in the care for accuracy RTD took with this plot point tbh.

Indeed Davina does say 'it happens sometimes', which could indicate it's not as extreme as having zero close relatives...

...but Ruby also asks if it's unusual for there to be no trace of anything, which Davina doesn't answer. If we're asking that question, it sounds like things really could have turned up that blank.

It may not be easy for orphans and adoptees to find family, but I assume it must be quite rare to have zero possible leads? Especially if you're a younger person, and thus may have a good number of people of the right generation to know/remember your family members still alive. Worst case scenario, I can imagine having some leads, only for someone to be uncontactable, or lack the information that would be useful. That being said, maybe I'm being too optimistic, as someone who had the priviledge of never having as much difficulty.

The weird sci-fi parallel (TW: incest (kinda), intersexism)

This is where we get to my theorising. Because in a science fiction context, and specifically a time-travel one, there is one quite famous short story that has a protagonist with zero family connections: '—All You Zombies—' by Robert A Heinlein.

(Fun fact: "All You Zombies" is also the name of a planned Class Ongoing story, once I get the time to resume that.)

You may also be familiar with the movie adaptation: 'Predestination'. It's also seemingly the inspiration for all sorts of similar stories, from 'The Man Who Folded Himself' to Red Dwarf and Futurama.

You might see where i'm going from that last one...

(Again disclaimer: if you seek it out, that this story may be quite triggering. It also was written in 1959. While it's actually somewhat respectable of a trans (kind-of, you'll see what I mean - I'll generally use the pronouns used in the text below) protagonist, it includes sexism, intersexism bordering on medical horror, and selfcest/incest.)

In 1963 (funnily enough), a lonely, orphaned 18 year old woman named Jane has a sexual encounter with a man in a park which ends up leaving her pregnant. When complications arise, the doctor discovers during a successful caesarian she's actually intersex, with a form of ovotesticular syndrome, with her immature, partially developed organs "a mess". He removes the now damaged womb, ovaries etc and, without consent, 'rearranged things so that [they] can develop properly as a man".

A few weeks later, the baby is stolen from the hospital by a man.

Despite all this tragedy, they do decide to complete their transition, restarting life as a man. He struggles to find work, but eventually finds himself making a living selling fake confession stories to magazines as "the Unmarried Mother".

Years later In a bar, he tells his story to a Bartender. After it all, the Bartender reveals he's actually a time agent and offers the chance to see his baby's father again. He drops him off in 1963 to find the man.

Meanwhile, in 1964, the Bartender steals a baby from a hospital, and drops her off at an orphanage in 1945.

The Bartender returns to the Unmarried Mother a month later in 1963, just in time to see him leaving a lonely young woman he met with in a park...

"Now you know who he is", the Bartender says, "—and after you think it over you’ll know who you are... and if you think hard enough, you’ll figure out who the baby is... and who I am.” He drops the Unmarried Mother off in 1983, where he can be recruited by the Temporal Bureau.

The Bartender, Jane, the Unmarried Mother, the kidnapper, the Father, and the Baby are revealed to all be one person, a family tree onto themself. The perfect time agent, causally disconnected from the rest of humanity and thus safe from Faction Paradox - if they are truly human at all (possibly explaining their biological bi-sexuality).

Thus, literally, having no relatives.

NO, OF COURSE I don't think this is what's up with Ruby!

But...

A lot of people have suggested that the woman who drops off Ruby could be herself. Obviously this doesn't necessarily mean Ruby is her own mother - let alone her own intersex father, child, and recruiter too!

But the story did come to my mind watching the Christmas special, and I do think the less squicky side of it, the 'perfect time agent' angle is worth considering. Could Ruby really be causally/genetically disconnected from the rest of humanity? Could she literally have no close relatives?

Assuming her DNA is not taken from any other person, but some semi-random mix of genes, she really may not match with anyone. At most, she would have some distant false matches, who share very small portions of DNA with her just by statistical fluke.

"BUT", I hear you say, "Didn't she get rewritten by the literal butterfly effect in episode one? She must be connected to humanity!"

Yes she did. But you know else happened?

She was still there.

Seriously think about it. Time travel fiction often doesn't think about the full consequences of time being altered even slightly, especially for a gag, but think about it literally. If all of human history was changed and a whole new species, possibly descended from Silurians, became dominant on the planet...

... why would the Doctor still happen to be travelling with someone with a name beginning with 'Rub-' who looks like Millie Gibson? Remember her name comes from Ruby Road... so does 'Ruby Road' exist on Rubathon's Earth? The Church presumably doesn't, unless there's a lizard Jesus...

At the very least we can point to the Web of Time being particularly reinforced around Ruby for some reason, even after all the damage it's taken between Flux and now, letting Ruby persist into the new timeline. This is explicitly confirmed in the last episode, with the Doctor calling it a fixed point.

At worst, it may imply whatever 'designed' Ruby just needs her to meet the Doctor, no matter what the dominant species on Earth is.

Mind you, both of these do open questions about what happened in the timeline where Ruby was eaten by the Goblin King. Maybe targetting her after her birth left her temporally vulnerable? Or maybe it was a necessary event, to bring the Doctor to Ruby Road...

Add this to some other things we've seen this season:

In Space Babies, we're introduced to the concept of 'baby farms', allowing people to be loomed born without a parent.

We also know, at least, that Ruby registers as human to the TARDIS (though given Sutekh's influence, who knows how trustworthy that scan was now!).

In The Devil's Chord, Ruby is not erased by Maestro destroying humanity. Granted we can put this down to the Doctor/TARDIS, and how time travel effects people's biodata, but I think it could be a misdirect.

(Interestingly there was a very similar plotpoint in "City of the Daleks", the Eleventh Doctor adventure game, which saw the New Dalek Paradigm invading Earth in...1963. Unlike Ruby, Amy eventually actually does start to fade, needing a 'chronon blocker' to stabilise her. Hey remember how we just heard the word 'chronon' used a bunch in the show.)

In Boom, the Ambulance is entirely unable to find a next of kin for Ruby, despite seemingly having her in its records. This is a little hard to dissect, as you could take a lot of different interpretations away from it. At the very least, it suggests Ruby doesn't have any living descendents in the 51st century. Carla probably doesn't either (which makes sense with her not having any bio-kids, and Ruby seemingly being the only child she fully adopted rather than fostered?) But for its extensive records, it's notable it still couldn't find anyone after that, even presumably with access to Ruby's DNA like the genealogists had.

Everything in 73 Yards.

Between the snow falling in each episode, plus context in The Legend of Ruby Sunday, we know that Christmas Eve on Ruby Road, while fixed, is also uniquely vulnerable and 'raw'. With the woman's changing reactions to the Doctor, it's also flexible enough to change, somewhat.

Similarly, the possible connection between the woman who dropped Ruby off and the woman in 73 Yards, between her face not being visible and the CCTV camera being around 73 yards / 66.6 metres away. And if that woman really was Ruby, then maybe the parallels to All You Zombies may not be as insane as they sound.

[lieutenant-teach]

Saw a post that stated ‘Sol is a secret Mando because he adopted Osha and Mae’. Strongly disagree!

First – aren’t Jedi ‘adopting’ kids? They have a whole Temple full of children! Adopted children! Yes, not traditionally adopted by parent/s, but by a whole community. Before anyone jumps to point out how ‘wrong’ it is – historically, it isn’t some alien idea to grow children outside of ‘modern nuclear family’ paradigm (hence an African proverb ‘It takes a village to raise a child’). After all, very different types of families do (did) exist outside of ‘nuclear family’ definition. Like the Iroquois traditionally named a father’s brothers as a child’s fathers, too; same with a mother and her sisters. In Mosuo matriarchal culture who’s a biological father is not important at all. Active extended family upbringing was widespread way back in time in Eastern European cultures and in some form continued up and during the USSR times.

Second – please, stop treating Mandos as some ‘perfect parents’! Why, if any character shows a bit of compassion towards a child, fans immediately jump to ‘he/she is definitely a Mandalorian at heart’? Let’s dissect canonical examples of parenting Mandalorians which are mostly thought of when speaking about ‘Mando adoption genes’.

a) Din Djarin ‘adopts’ Grogu, as fans love to say, but let’s be fair – during the whole length of three seasons he never calls him his son. In the last episode of the 3d season he names him a ‘Mandalorian apprentice’ (it’s disappointing – they both deserve being called ‘a family’ outright). Originally Din acts (and was meant to be before TBOBF retconned everything) like a foster parent to get Grogu to his real people – to the Jedi, who could share his abilities and be his family. He doesn’t immediately call him his own since the first episodes of the 1st season (though it doesn’t diminish his love for him later, ‘Clan of two’, etc.). Getting a kid out of danger of being experimented on and getting him to his real people is just a decent thing to do, not some ‘special Mando genes’ (considering Din is a foundling himself, not a born Mandalorian).

b) Din himself is adopted by Mandos. He’s raised with the Fighting Corps (similar to Jedi communal structure). He, like Grogu, was saved, too. But saving an orphaned kid is – again – just a decent thing to do; it doesn’t require any ‘special Mando genes’. And if we nitpick – why didn’t any Clan adopt him, if Mandalorians just can’t help but adopt all the kids they get their eyes on, as per fanon?

c) Jango Fett is the most referenced Mandalorian in terms of ‘Mando adoption genes’. As many, I love fics where Jango is a nice dad to all of his ‘kids’, but don’t confuse ‘fix-it’ fics and actual canon. Come on, he treated his blood sons/clones as cannon fodder! Only Boba was lucky enough to be named as a real Fett scion – and even so, Jango outright claims that he only wants an heir to carry on with his bounty hunter legacy. So all these annoying posts about ‘Clones show their Jango/Mando genes by adopting everyone’ are stupid – if it were true, Jango would’ve adopted all millions of clones. (And who are clones adopting anyway? Just being nice to kids doesn’t mean ‘adopting’.)

And in terms of Sol – his ‘adopting’ of Osha and Mae becomes his attachment which ultimately didn’t turn out well for him and anyone else.

Please, stop pushing Mandalorians where they don’t belong. Having close parental relationship with someone in SW doesn’t mean ‘they’re secretly Mandalorians’. Yes, Mandos are considered to be a largely adoption society, but – see the previous sentence.

[tales-of-wocdes]

Hi! I hope you have a nice day.(I apologize in advance for the long text) Your IF is truly amazing, both in writing and story, and interesting characters. I'm madly waiting for the continuation!!! I wish you a lot of inspiration and strength💕💕💕 So I really have a lot of questions (if some have already been asked, sorry). Also, if you can't answer some questions because of spoilers or something else, that's okay. English is not my native language so all text was translated with the help of a translator so sorry for the mistakes.

Do Custodians and Protectors have days off? Since taking care of children is really hard work (especially if they are little rascals). Maybe on the day off they could visit relatives (or were they all orphans too?) then just go visit friends. And the child they are assigned to would be looked after by other Custodian and Protector.

I saw posts where MC steals cookies, could we steal them (or just ask) for someone? Like, Havard had a lot of work and MC was being looked after by Custodian Ethel, and they decided to bring Hvard some snacks(cookies) and leave them on the table. We could also bribe Lexia with cookies so that she wouldn't tell Havard that MC ate cookies before eating. (Or her was accomplice in the theft and MC shared cookies with her)

Dragons are big, scary and can roar. And if MC has a dragon heritage, then that means they (even though they are not as big and scary as they think) can also roar. And during training with Lexia, they can try to scare her with their menacing roar!! (which would actually be super cute and not scary)🥰.Or just scare away people that they are afraid of or don't like

Until what age can children stay in an orphanage? And how will children with elven, dragon or kitsune heritage start? Do they have the same age of majority as humans, or is it different? Will the children stay in the orphanage until they can find a place to live and a job, or will they be given both? And can they themselves become new Custodians or Protectors?

Are love affairs forbidden between Custodians and Protectors? Or between two Custodians or Protectors? And what if they start a relationship with someone outside the orphanage? Since it can distract them from their work, so it can be forbidden? (they can also quarrel and this can affect their work together) And if they have a child, how will the ancients react to this? (They built an orphanage for children who faced the cruelty of the world and were left all alone, and then suddenly children with both parents appeared in the orphanage) 🤔

I really hope that our MC at a later stage of the game will be able to tell Havard and Lexia that he loves them (or even call Havard dad and Lexia mom). I really, really love these two wonderful people ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for the enthusiasm! And the praise! It is rather incredible and surreal to hear :D

There is lots of text under the line, and you are asking some things that I have not considered in too much detail :D Since there is so much text here, I will not do snippets here.

Q1: Of course they have days off. You pretty much hit the nail on the head with how I imagine it goes. A rotation and collaboration between the staff will help, and there should be enough people to go around to take care of the kids. I also have some plans for "special" caretakers for some instances...

The Custodians and Protectors are not all orphans, though some of them are. Out of the current cast (Havard, Lexia, Alessa, Sandor), only Lexia is an orphan (I think I mentioned it in the second interlude so it should not be a spoiler).

Q2: That is adorable. I will put it in the notes for the demo or maybe make a snippet later.

Q3: That would be adorable :D Adding that to my notes as well or make a snippet later.

Q4: Until they are ready to be independent, there is no specific age. As adults, they may become Custodians or Protectors if they so choose (See pinned post... The IF is named this way for a reason.).

We can assume that those with strong immortal heritage will live longer though it is debatable by how much for the current story, everyone here so far (aside from the Ancient) is also part human here and the heritage features are supposed to be inherited from far back.

Still, let us assume people with different heritages develop at the same rate as everyone else (and pretty much have to assume or otherwise we get into too much trouble with timelines and stuff). I view this as a function of the environment. I.e. being surrounded by other children and adults of a very mixed heritage will adjust their perception of time. A sort of "life in your years vs. the years in your life thing." As in, if an immortal is surrounded by mortals they will experience life at the same rate as those mortals in the moment. If an immortal is surrounded by other immortals, everything slows down. (I am using an immortal here as a catch all word for every species that just lives a very long life.) Alternatively, we could assume that the human blood has diluted the immortal blood too much (but I don't like this as much now, it made more sense when everyone could have one heritage feature but not so much now that you can have many).

The orphanage attempts to make the orphans into functional members of society that should be able to find jobs and places to live. However, of course they will help if needed. The children will eventually get a sort of "apprenticeship/summer work" type of thing that could help them.

Q5: Affairs are not forbidden between Custodians, Protectors, each other, or with someone from the Outside (with some caveats on the last one i.e. no access to the orphanage for outsiders no matter who you are dating). The expectation is that everyone does their duty, and acts like an professional adult though. The children come first, and you don't ignore that if you want to stay at the orphanage as a custodian or protector. However here I stress that the Ancients do not expect this to be a huge issue, they chose all of these people themselves. The Ancients are far from infallible but they have their moments.

Still let's assume that some... non ideal relationships happen. If relationship drama interferes with the duty, the relationship is expected to end on good terms. Or at least terms that do not affect the duties of the affected parties. If not, both participants get kicked out of their respective orders. The Ancients have no patience for such things (read as petty mortal shit) when it comes to the orphanage where the expectations have been quite clearly laid out.

The Ancients would have no issues with children in the orphanage as long as they are not given special treatment. If the parents cannot agree to this, then they may be excused of duty until they are ready to return. And parental leave is a thing in during the ~2 years after birth (I might have decided that right now). It might even be a good thing to have some people who could act as wet nurses on orphanage staff if any really young orphans are found.

Q6: I would imagine MC will be able to do that if they so choose :D

[meldingintheunderdark]

Halsin, fatherhood and his ability to hurt

Unpopular opinion: any post mentioning Halsin having a plethora of biological children makes me feel queasy. And I say this when I hc Sszazar will bear Halsin's kid because the need to raise a far better daughter than Orin for Bhaal, then just to raise a daughter for himself, was the pivotal point in his filial faith as the Dark Urge.

How would Halsin take care of such a huge family? How would he avoid neglecting his children? If the childbearers are present too, how does he communicate with them to co-parent? How would he create a positive environment between his bio kids and the orphans without favoritism?

I know Daddy Halsin is a meme, however the title he loves so dearly is terribly heavy with responsibilities. In my opinion, as Halsin is in game, he will neglect the orphans until he realizes that it's simply impossible to be Daddy Halsin. It may take a day or a week till he's dead tired and ready to abandon the concept of a traditional family with one strong and loving parental figure. Art Cullagh writes on “[...] the children of all ages in Halsin's care”. It seems Halsin is indeed the sole caregiver. Obviously, nine whole wagons of children need far more than Daddy Halsin telling them stories. They need daddies, mommies, guardians, caregivers. They need many adults. The kids who lost their parents also need to grieve. I cannot believe every single child is calling him Daddy as if their parents did not die so recently and/or they don't have any trauma regarding their parents or the concept of a parental figure... or that every single child loves Halsin. Sometimes, personalities just don't match.

So, to add a lot of biological children to these nine whole wagons of kids... I guess I don't like this headcanon because it implies Halsin is downright irresponsible. Bearing and birthing a child are difficult and dangerous. If he's the one with a bun in the oven, it means he's willing to put his body through such an ordeal without reserve, over and over again. Halsin isn’t dumb. He's a healer. He knows firsthand that something natural can maim or kill. He's a druid. He knows the strain people put on nature. I can hardly imagine him spawning kids left and right without a care in the world just because he can.

Nine whole wagons of children... It’s already so many orphans. Hence my belief he will neglect them at first, overjoyed as he is to be Daddy Halsin, blinded by his title, but then he will quickly understand he must raise them alongside many other adults and work together as a tight-knit community. He won't be their only dad. Maybe he will feel jealous of the other daddies, wounded even. Maybe he will worry a lot about the quality of his parenting. Maybe he will hardly digest the fact not every kid he saved will love him as a father. Undeniably, caring for the orphans will also make him think about his own family and the pain and joy associated with these bittersweet memories.

Raising children is never easy. I do dislike headcanons describing Halsin and fatherhood as smooth sailing. Perhaps I'm simply an unfunny person entrenched in my own traumas, thus I cannot see Halsin as a wonderful, confident, faultless dad. Furthermore, kids aren't sharing one mind. Like adults, they are extremely different from each other. These kids went through war, abandonment and extreme poverty too. It's unrealistic to imagine they would all adore Halsin or even that living together with so many others won't have any negative consequences whatsoever.

I must admit the way Halsin is represented with this headcanon, and some others, bothers me. He's too perfect. His traumas, depression and grief tend to be acknowledged, but not his ability to hurt people. His actions hurt the Grove and the tieflings deeply. He tries to be good, however he isn't a saint either. He can and does hurt himself and others while attempting to do good. Certainly, it’s completely unintentional when others are involved. Halsin isn’t cruel. He’s a good man at heart, yet he’s flawed.

My English fails me. What I’m trying to say is that Halsin is so often framed in an extremely positive light in game and in the headcanons I read here, especially when the scenarios are about children. I truly understand writing on potentially triggering themes is not a good experience, to say the least. Nevertheless, writing Halsin as a good man who can do no harm to anyone he loves/likes does him a great disservice. He did hurt his druids and the tieflings he sheltered indirectly because he threw himself body and soul into his long-lasting obsession. So self-sacrificing he tends to forget the world around him. Once again, I understand the need to have a comfort character who is soft, caring, hot, who suffers but accepts help from his loved one... and yet, I also don’t.

In the end, the problem is rooted deep in my interpretation of Halsin. The very same lines don’t resonate with me the same way they do with other players, as does everything else in our world. But positive only Halsin is overwhelmingly represented, I honestly wonder if I'm too obtuse. People seem to see hope and joy when he talks about the children whereas all I can see is the damage he will cause temporarily because he’s too eager to realize his dream, too focused on a somewhat traditional family structure with a single parent, too inexperienced. Painful moments before peace and happiness. He doesn’t mention other settlers as caregivers. Moreover, the commune represents such a logistical nightmare. He also runs back to Thaniel’s realm without decompressing or processing his own problems, his new romance in a long while, their life-threatening adventures, etc.

It's the hill I’m willing to die on. Halsin is kind, but he can hurt people. He will neglect the kids because he cannot physically and emotionally cater to their every need. Of course, he will correct his mistakes in a heartbeat. This one-dimensional Halsin shining like a beacon of light in the darkness is dull. It’s so often about his kindness/love in the fandom, sometimes his pain. A person who hurts someone else unintentionally is not instantaneously evil. Halsin is not evil if he hurts the kids because he cannot give each of them enough attention while he is trying to take care of them with all his heart. His ability to hurt gives him depth as much as love, gentleness, selflessness.

Once again, it's all about our personal preferences, I get it. It isn't a big deal. It's merely isolating to have such an important school of thought about Halsin dominating his tags. I would love to read stuff about Halsin frustrated because a teenager keeps running away from the commune. Halsin crying because he can hear a child repeatedly having night terrors. Halsin shouting because he is at his wits’ end, scaring them, then agonizing over his mistake, clueless how to mend things. Halsin having no more libido because fatherhood and the commune are so demanding, and not feeling alright about its absence. Halsin at loss with a kid who isn't like others, unable to interact with them the same way. Halsin distraught that a group of orphans has stopped calling him daddy, then envious because they call another settler daddy. Ashamed of his envy. Halsin being unfair when he thinks he’s being fair. Halsin, who is so modest, too modest, subconsciously teaching the children to be humble, too humble, then realizing they’re becoming their harshest critics, like he is with himself. Trying, sometimes failing, occasionally hurting himself and others, then trying again to be better and do better. The fact he's 350 years old doesn't mean he has nothing to learn anymore. He says so himself.

One can love intensely, strive to be kind, and still hurt people unintentionally. Halsin is no exception.

[morurui]

Camp Cretaceous/Chaos Theory Arcane AU Part 1

I’ve been mulling over this AU for a while now and I’ll put the info in read more so it doesn’t take over my home page, but I would like to thank @mangosaurus and @theobscuredigit for helping me sort out my thoughts and bounce off ideas regarding the AU! Also this mostly covers act 1 of Arcane so I’ll probably do another part of this covering acts 2 and 3.

I’ve been working through what characters would fit which roles in the arcane universe and I’ve finally come to a somewhat solid conclusion on where I’m taking this AU if I decide to do more about it in the future (or it’s just this one off thing, maybe I’ll write a fic about it. I’m unsure), so here we go!

Yaz -> Vi- A head strong and athletic young girl who lost her mom due to a tragic conflict between the Undercity and Piltover. She’s the leader of a rag tag group of fellow orphans, those of which greatly admire her. While she may put on an act of having everything together she’s extremely terrified of letting those she loves down, especially her adoptive younger brother Ben who is the most important person in her life.

Ben -> Powder- Yaz found Ben all alone during the conflict that took the lives of the twos parents, and from that day forward Yaz became Ben’s protector and sister. Although, timid, Ben is determined to prove he can pull his own weight within the group. However, his attempts often fail leading disastrous consequences, which Yaz and the others have to end up resolving. The only person that Ben believes doesn’t see him as a burden is his best friend, Darius.

Mae -> Vander- Adoptive mother of both Ben and Yaz, she found the two during the conflict between Piltover and the Undercity. She also takes care of two other children she found during the aftermath and is well respected in the Undercity, due to her not so savory past. She now tries to keep the peace between the two nations, while also struggling to manage the rebellious children under her care.

Kenji -> Mylo- One of the other two children under Mae’s care. Unlike everyone else in the group who are orphans, Kenji was abandoned by his father after his mother passed away, using the chaos of the conflict going on in the Undercity as a way to make a clean break. Kenji greatly admires Yaz, and hopes to be someone that can proudly stand by her side, however his cockiness and laziness get the better of him. While he does care for Ben, he ends up giving the kid a hard time due to how often he messes up jobs. He believes that Ben somehow hexes the group whenever he joins them on outings.

Sammy -> Claggor- One of the other two children under Mae’s care as well as Yaz’s girlfriend. During the conflict, Sammy was separated from her parents and later found out they were killed during it. With no where else to go, she finds Mae and gets taken in by her. While trying to keep things positive in the group, it’s clear that she share the same hatred for those in Piltover as her friends, citing them as the reason why she lost everything.

Darius -> Ekko- Best friend of Ben as well as the son of the local pawn shop owner, he supplies tips he hears from his dad’s shop about wealthy customers to his friends. He highly respects Ben and motivates him to keep trying even when he wants to give up, being a guiding light in Ben’s life.

Brooklynn -> Caitlyn- The daughter of one of Piltover’s councilman. Her biggest dream is to investigate the inside details of Piltover and the Undercity’s rocky relationship and hope to achieve this by becoming one of the cities top enforcers in the future. She also assists Henry Wu in his work from time to time as he was taken under her families wing.

Here are the other roles that I don’t feel like writing descriptions for as of this moment but probably will if I go more into depth with this AU

Dr. Wu -> Jayce

Eddie -> Viktor

Daniel -> Mel

Tiff-> Silco

Mitch -> Sevika

Bumpy -> idk she can be heimerdinger or something

If I had better art skills I would draw designs for everyone, but alas I only use my drawing ability for shitty memes.

[lightwing-s]

the batboys' favorite male marvel heroes

Our golden boy, Dick, is a massive Spiderman fan. He’s not embarrassed in the least to admit it, and he’s also not worried people will think of him as just liking something popular. He has pretty good reasons to like Peter Parker and he’ll defend it to hell and back. He’s young, fun, and lighthearted. Heroic and smart and handsome and sweet and Dick can go on for hours and hours on that topic. At a young age, he sympathized with Peter for a number of reasons: they were both orphans, taken in by someone after this loss; even after all that pain they still grew up to be happy and joyful people to be around; both are very smart. As he grew into his super hero persona, they started sharing a whole lot more, like their flexible fighting style, the way they both deal with villains. And you’d often tell him they share the same bubbly personality. Also, Bruce used to spoil him rotten with spidey gifts. Comics, action figures, school supplies, spiderman shampoo and conditioner, towels… You name it, Dick has had it at home. Truly a spidey fanboy through and through. He also has a costume at home waiting for the day he can go on patrol wearing it.

Let's be honest here, we all know Jason would live for the anti-hero trope. Growing up, he’d always been drawn to more heroic types of antiheroes, like Wolverine for example, who’s hell bent on fulfilling his duty but does not live by the hero standards as some others do.  But after a certain incident with a crowbar and a clown, he saw refuge in the spirit of vengeance himself, the Ghost Rider. C'mon, a motorcycling maniac, whose body is completely covered in fire and who fights for justice no matter what? *side eyes a certain somebody* there's no way it isn't up to his alley. He’s in the comic store right after patrol, in the early mornings, to buy whatever issue was released next and reads it like it’s a Jane Austen novel. He also buys older issues, and keeps them wrapped and well stored like his precious babies and he ain’t letting anyone touch them. Perhaps with one dear exception, you.  Jay is into the classics though, if he had to pick between one out of all the riders he would have to choose the very first rider, Johnny Blaze. When riding his own bike, he’d pretend to be a rider, spitting lines he remembers from the comics and using them on random robbers he stops on the streets. Don’t talk to him about the movie though, that’s off topic.

Tim Drake is not one to pick “silly” heroes like his older brothers do. Or he at least pretends to do. He’s into the smart supes, with admirable brains and capacities well beyond imaginable. But he’s also a bit of a contrarian, so he won’t go for easy picks like Dick Iron Man. So when he sees a powerful AI turn into a nearly unstoppable android he instantly becomes a fan. Even before living with Bruce and becoming Robin, he would ask his parents to get him the new Avengers issue with Vision in it. However, unlike his brothers he’s very chill about it, he doesn’t feel like he needs to explain why his favorite is the best, or why they're a token of justice or a mad warrior. He knows Vision is good and that no one can fight him about it. He also wishes he could stay awake without the need for rest like he does, but he’d definitely miss the coffee.

Don’t really let anyone know it, but Damian’s favorite hero is his dad. But Batman is a real, flesh and bone man, so it won’t count here. He struggled to have a favorite hero, reading comics is “for children” and he’s too mature for that. He’s an adult. But when he caught a glimpse of Dick sleeping watching the new Moon Knight tv show, this boy got hooked. Not only is he a cool,  merciless fighter, he is also intelligent and has a cultural impact on him like no other. Marc’s internal conflict with all of his personalities feels like a reflection of Damian’s own troubles with his families’ contrasting ideals: is he supposed to be a deadly weapon just like his grandfather would want, much like Jake Lockely, or is he a nicer warrior-esque hero like Marc and his father? Anyway, that cape, Dami loves the hooded cape *see that, bats? much cooler!*

[ninapi]

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺╚══ Righteousness ╝

Premise: Teaching children was his dream, taking care of his buddhist temple his responsibility. Finding love wasn't in his priority list, but not having to take care of everything on his own was certainly refreshing for Gyomei and made him feel warm inside.

Word Count: 3075

Note: This is set in the Kimetsu academy world, just so you know~

🎉Happy new year everyone!! 🎉

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The first years in the Kimetsu academy had the best homeroom teacher, everybody knew this and they were incredibly jealous of them in the senior classes.

Himejima Gyomei, despite of being this big and imposing, had a heart of gold.

He loved every single one of his students as if they were his own children, getting to know what they liked and what they didn’t, always willing to help them with their concerns and they would always end up opening up to him no matter how uncomfortable the subject was.

For example, Kanao got her first period in one of his classes and he, even if he had no idea of how to deal with such a problem, went to get her some warm tea and shared his cat shaped cookies with her while her sister finished class and was able to assist her further. 

He was such a tender, heartwarming man, that everyone wondered why he was still single, his students specially.

“Himejima-sensei, when are you giving us a baby brother? I really wanna see what it would look like, don’t you Tanjiro? If it’s a boy I bet he’d look just like his dad, wouldn’t that be something?” Zenitsu used to be scared of him, so having him accepting him this much always made Gyomei’s heart sing.

“I can’t make babies without a wife…Do you want me to ask Kochou-sensei to add some sex-ed to your biology classes? It worries me a little your lack of knowledge in the matter…” his comment made the entire class burst out laughing, Zenitsu’s ears turning bright red.

“I know that! I just..I just…”

“What he’s trying to say is that he would like you to have a happy home with a wife and children, sensei. You do deserve that and we all agree.” 

“Tanjirooooooo….!” tears staining his cheeks, he was always so grateful to have a friend that truly understood his every word to perfection to save him from eternal humiliation.

“I appreciate your concern, dear students of mine. But I can’t even own a cat, I have too much work with the school and the temple, I can barely sleep. That reminds me, remember we are having a festival this weekend in the temple grounds. Make sure to come if you have the time, there will be many delicious treats in booths this time around.” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gyomei inherited a Buddhist temple a few years back when the owner, who had no children, had past. In his will, he stated that Gyomei was the only one he could think of as his successor even if they weren’t blood related, and as an orphan, he couldn’t feel more proud.

Taking the temple was fine at first, it was a middle sized temple hidden away in the middle of the city, not many people would come by and taking care of it mostly just meant some extra chores. The temple also came with housing, hence it was just a bit more of cleaning to do than usual.

But in resent months, his temple gained fame as there were rumors that you’d become stronger if you bought their amulets and prayed there, the owner being the proof of that.

Suddenly a bunch of teenagers started visiting frequently, mostly misguided ones, making it their meeting place.

To Gyomei was actually refreshing, he would share tips with them on how to grow muscle and some of them even started considering leaving the type of life they lived and become priests. That much was the influence he had on them, and it was a good one.

The ex-biker gang of teens were quite useful to have around, instead of doing mischief around town, they started coming to the temple daily and helping with the chores. The ‘training’ they received from Gyomei leaving clear results on their muscle gain and they were all livid.

This time around they were tasked to help him build the booths for the festival.

Among those, there was one boy who wasn’t part of that gang that you could still see always there in the temple as well, one of his beloved students, Shinazugawa Genya, who had the title of being his ‘disciple’ according to him and the other kids at least.

While he didn’t get any special treatment, he did focus on the arts of the religion itself with him more than with the others, as he doubted he would ever get an heir and wanted to entrust the knowledge he received from the previous priest to future generations.

The summer festival was somewhat of an unexpected request from the town’s municipality. Of course he knows temples frequently have festivals, specially during summer months, he’s been to quite a few himself. But he never thought he’d have to plan one…

The festivals are a sort of income for the towns people and also provide enrichment to the youth and the elderly, he couldn’t refuse the proposal. But he had no idea of what was needed besides the building side of things, so he decided to focus on that and take the opportunity to share some skills with the boys that might help them in the future.

One of the boys however, one of the most reckless of all, had a sister about his age, maybe a bit younger, who was the one raising him. He was aware of this, when the kid’s parents died he chose the wrong path, ended up meeting the wrong kind of kids and it was giving troubles to his sister who worked very hard to provide for both.

He decided to call for you, with the excuse of needing a female touch for the festival. The boy was over the moon knowing he could be more helpful than the others by just having an older sister, who happened to be very pretty as well.

“She’s here, Himejima-san! My sister!” you made your way up the long stairs lining the side of the street until you found your little bother clinging to this massive mountain of a man. He looked happy, like when he was little and would show you a rock he found in his way home, he used to be so pure hearted…maybe not everything is lost just yet.

“Hi, I’m (Y/N). I’m glad to finally meet you, you’ve been a great influence in my brother’s life, I’m immensely grateful.” the way your loving smile graced your features as you glanced at your younger brother, the way your voice was laced with so much appreciation and the way the slight breeze moved your hair around like a shoujo manga panel, made his eyes fill with tears; rivers of them going down his face almost instantly.

“Himejima-san? Oh my god, are you ok? Did I offend you in any way?” You were panicking, never thinking you’d see the day a man as massive and masculine as he was could sob out in the open like a baby.

“Don’t worry, nee-chan. He cries over everything…” the kids chuckled at his words, making the older man blush.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. You were just so pretty looking at your brother with such a tender loving gaze, it was a beautiful scene, even for someone who can’t see.”

“See? I told you guys…he’d cry at my sisters face! HA! I’m going to be Himejima-san’s son in law!”

“You mean brother in law, you idiot…” words came out of your mouth without thinking, making you flush bright red. “I- I didn’t mean it that way…it’s just..he doesn’t go to school so I have to correct him when he says something out of…” your mumbling made the man smile, you were a lovely woman, his heart aches knowing you’ve been raising this child on your own after your loss, dealing with a little delinquent most be even harder.

“It’s ok, I do the same all the time. I am a school teacher after all. It’s a good practice.”

“This is what you miss for not going to school! Himejima-san could be your teacher!”

“He wouldn’t, he’s a first year teacher, I’m a third year…” poking his tongue out at you, he went back to building the takoyaki booth with his friends.

“I’ve tried that, but they really don’t like school…”

“It’s hard for them, they’re actually good kids, they just don’t fit with society’s rules and that causes them to go a little wild. He’s been asking for materials lately and to be very honest, I don’t mind him using my money for paint and some wood instead of having him stealing it to buy cigarets…you’re a great influence in them.”

Your words were hitting the spot right now. He wasn’t doing this to get anyone’s recognition, he just always felt the need to pass his knowledge down, to help others succeed in life. But it felt good having someone acknowledging this for the first time, it made him feel like he was indeed doing some good out there, that inheriting this temple was actually work of the gods and that this was indeed his call. 

“Thank you, your words are very kind.” he didn’t really talk much, but he was crying once more and this time around you found it more adorable than anything, specially his little handkerchief with an embroidered kitten on it.

“What can I help you with, Himejima-san?”

“Well, I need a priestess to help me make and sell the amulets. Is that something you’d be interested in?” 

“Oh, so that’s why you needed a woman, I see. Sure! What do I need to do?”

You spent all the afternoon learning the craft of making the pretty embroidered amulets. You never imagined a man like him would have such a hobby, in particular a blind man, but he was very good at it even. “So that handkerchief of yours…did you embroider it yourself?”

“Oh this?” he showed it to you, it was surreal, there was so much detailing it must have taking him ages to make. “Yeah I made it during lunch breaks, the other teachers are a bit loud so I just sit there on my chair keeping myself busy.” 

“You’re really something else…” your giggles were something he began to appreciate from the moment you stepped on his temple grounds, but he grew fonder of them even more as you spent more and more time together.

The coming days you’d come and visit the temple with your brother after work; they’d already built most of the stalls and you were diligently working on the amulets with Gyomei. It was a nice dynamic, he’s never been this busy, yet it felt so invigorating having all this loving creatures around him all day long. Specially the one sitting next to him, dozing off on his shoulder with a needle dangerously close to her mouth.

“(Y/N)…” he tried shaking your shoulder gently but you were completely gone for the day. It was a hell of a day at work and your brother asked you to make his bento box as early as four in the morning since he’d be out all day building things. You were exhausted to say the least.

Since you weren’t waking up, Gyomei scooped you up in his arms and took you inside to his apartment, laying you gently on his bed. He then called the boys and told them to go home as it was already quite late, your brother going with them instead of staying with you, unsurprisingly.

While you continued sleeping peacefully on the man’s bed, he went to his kitchen to prepare dinner. Would you wake up in time for dinner? What would you even like to eat? Was this a date? He technically took you in his house without consent…would he be in troubles for this? He really doesn’t want you to hate him…

He went for the safest choice, some gyoza and side dishes, noting too heavy and easy to eat. He also had beers if you wanted one, but also juice, coffee even, he was a ready man.

“(Y/N)…I made some gyoza…come eat with me, you need to replenish your energy.” this time though you did hear him, more like the delicious smell coming from the kitchen got you to wake up.

“Himejima-san…?” you looked around in confusion as you were in an unknown location, him being the only familiar thing at the moment.

“You fell asleep outside, I brought you in so you wouldn’t catch a cold. The boys are home now, but I made you some dinner…” you could see he was nervous, it was cute how he was fidgeting with the pink apron he was wearing, the tips of his ears a little red, noticeable even on his darker skin. He was a sight to behold regardless if he was showing muscle or being tender like right now.

“Thank you, you’re always so kind to me.” getting up from his bed, you followed him to the kitchen area were he had a small table with two chairs ready for you to enjoy the goodness he just prepared while thinking in nothing but yourself.

“You don’t have to come help every day if you’re this tired. You could get sick, besides I bet you have better things to do…”

“I like helping you, Himejima-san…” he chocked on his gyoza, making you hand him his glass of water.

“Y-you do…?” he mumbled in between coughs as he was desperate for you to elaborate.

“I do. I like our amulet making time, and helping you clean and be with the kids in general. I’ve been spending a lot more time with my brother lately because of that too, getting to know his friends and of course…you…” nodding you kept on eating the delicious treats, while he processed your words.

“I like it too you know…all that…” he wasn’t the best at this, he wasn’t even sure if this was that sort of talk or not but he had to let you know he felt the same in case it was.

“Y-you…you’re very kind and easy to work with. I wish you were my priestess always, not just for the festival…” the implications of those words hit you harder than it should, he wanted you there always, that’s the only thing you got out of that, and your face was suddenly very red and warm.

“Are you in need of one? I mean…what would I have to do?” this got him out of his nervous trance, were you really interested in this?

“Well, the same but less frequent, as this is the first festival we hold, its normally not this busy, just help me make amulets and sell them on your time off, maybe help me swipe the leaves during fall, things like that…”

“Will I get a pretty outfit matching yours?” your giggles made themselves shown this evening, making him shake to his core.

“I can get that sorted out…” you’ve never seen him smile like that before, he was always so stoic looking, even in his soft moments. 

“Then I guess we have a deal, boss~” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The festival weekend was finally here, the stalls filled to brim with delicious goodness and fun games.

His students came to the festival, Genya being as pushy as ever to get everyone spending their allowance in the festival. While Tanjiro was having a blast wining plushies for Kanao, Zenitsu was looking for his teacher.

“Himejima-sensei….can you rub my back? I think I pulled a muscle…” he plopped on a chair inside the little office the temple has, to his surprise, he wasn’t there but a lovely woman dressed in the most beautiful yukata he’s ever seen.

“Ugh…who are you??”

“I’m in charge of selling the amulets, would you like one? They’ll make you strong. Might help with your muscles~” you could sell him an empty plastic bag and he��d throw his money on your face immediately.

“Yes please, I’ll get all I can afford with this!” he handed you a bunch of coins, making you smile, “Is there a possibility you can write your number on the back of it? I mean…in case I want to buy more in the future…you know…” he was blushing and you just couldn’t hold your giggles in, an immediate call for Gyomei to come out.

“Agatsuma, you can come if you need another amulet any time, they will be for sale here in the temple, you're always welcomed.” the way you looked up at him all bashful and prettily made Zenitsu shudder with realization.

“WAIT! Sensei!! You didn’t tell me you had a lovely wife! Why would you keep her hidden? I almost try to get her for myself!” 

“Like you could, man…” Genya was snickering on the side, shaking his head.

“S-she’s not m-my…” 

“Here’s your amulet, Agatsuma-kun. If you ever need another just come, we’ll be here to sell you as many as you need~” you rested your hand on Gyomei’s forearm and his entire set of organs turned to goo, Zenitsu turning red at the implications of your words.

“Got it…Genya you should have told me sensei was dating, I almost did something stupid!”

“You always do something stupid…”

“W-we are n-not…d-“ he wasn’t able to finish his sentence as you pulled him down on the chair near the window, leaning down to hand him a cold drink. “Can you cover me for a second? I need to pee.”

“Anytime…” 

And so, Himejima Gyomei was not that alone anymore. 

Not only did he have his loving students, a home, two jobs and an entire biker gang of teens at his disposition, but he also had a loving woman by his side now, one who accepted him the way he was and was wiling to assist him without even questioning anything. Someone who makes his heart flutter and his insides melt. 

Maybe this year will be better than the last…maybe this year he’ll get the things he only ever dreamed of having. Maybe this year, he’ll get to fall in love.

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

Masterlist <- (Sanemi, Giyuu, Kyojiro and Tengen's version)

Note: This concludes the teacher version of my Kimetsu Academy series~ There might be a students version of this series a little later on, in case you're interested...👀

[annabawritersdream]

TOLKIEN OC WEEK 2024-DAY 2

Prompt: Canon character & original character relationship

Title: A Father's Love

Synopsis: Eönwë and his stepson have a chat before bed (FLASHBACK/NIGHTMARE=> if Anárion lives)

!MAJOR SPOILERS FOR MY MAIN WIP THE LADY OF ITHILIEN !

(link in general masterlist)

Words: 6,841 (AO3 Word count)

(Also posted on AO3!)

GLOSSARY (VALARIN)

Söz mü?: promise?

Babacığım: my dear dad; daddy

Ne olur: please

Hayır: no

Oğlum...öldü: my son...is dead

The meaning of all the other "foreign" words is explained within the story.

A Father's Love

A chest cold.

The child had suffered a chest cold, but the healers had told him he was on the mend. Eönwë himself had felt it, he was recovering. The persistent cough that had plagued him for weeks had finally abated and he was no longer feverish. He had lamented a mild headache and Eönwë had tucked him into bed. Anárion had smiled at him, begging for a nighttime story.

No one tells them like you do.

Eönwë had pressed his lips against the boy’s forehead before recounting a story about the earliest days of Arda. Anárion had listened to him intently, interrupting him every once in a while, to ask questions. By the end of the tale, he had found it hard to keep his eyes open and had released a loud yawn which had made Eönwë jolt in surprise.

Sorry…

Eönwë had run a hand through the boy’s hair.

There is no need for you to apologize, he had said to him, cupping his face.

Did I scare you?

The Maia had giggled.

I am petrified.

Anárion had briefly lowered his gaze.

You’re not afraid. You’re never scared. I want to be like you.

You should be yourself and be proud of your own accomplishments. You should not compare yourself to others. It will only harm you.

The child had frowned. Eönwë had clasped his little hand.

You will understand when you are much, much older.

Will you still be here by then?

Eönwë’s heart had faltered. He had blinked.

Would you like me to leave?

NO! Sorry…

I am not going anywhere.

You and Silnur will always stay with me. And with mamma too.

Of course.

Söz mü?

Eönwë had jokingly pinched the child’s nose.

Who taught you that?

Anárion had quietened, his eyes darting around the room and his lips pursed.

My mamma did. I like your language and I wanted to learn. She taught me all the words she knows.

While I am amazed at your mother’s linguistic skills and I am beyond certain she would be a great tutor, I cannot help but wonder why you did not come to me first.

I was told not to bot..both..b...

Who said you would bother me?

Everyone…they said…I am not your son…I am not like you…

Who said it? Do you know who it was? Do you know their names?

No...but...they’re mean to my mamma…and they’re mean to me too…

Promise me that you will not worry about it. I will take care of it.

The child had glanced at Eönwë, sorrow etched on his face.

You’re married to my mamma, but you’re not my dad. My papa died. I miss him. Will I see him again?

Eönwë had nodded.

When will I see him?

That hopeful tone was one Eönwë had known full well. He had met so many orphaned children following the War, so many grieving children…though they came from different backgrounds and from different realms, they all had shared one thing. Hope. Their eyes and their voices oozed hope. Hope that they would see their family again and hug their fathers, their mothers, their siblings. Those faces, those wide eyes, those high-pitched voices…

You will meet him again someday, he had said.

Do you know where he is?

No, the Maia had gulped, I cannot say that I do.

We can look for him together! He must be somewhere!

Perhaps we could.

Can my mamma come with us?

Eönwë’s heart had shattered. Such sweet innocence….

Of course she can.

He had kissed the top of his head. Of course she can.

Anárion had stared at him.

I would not want to go without you. You’re not my papa, but…I love you very much. I am happy you married my mamma. She smiles a lot now.

Eönwë’s eyes had filled with tears and his jaw had clenched.

You are kind and you help people. My papa did that too. But you are not as sick as he was. That is why he is no longer here. He was sick. I think you would have liked him.

I did meet him. More than once. I promised him to look after you before he left.

Do you remember what he looked like?

I do, my sweet boy.

We will find him much more quickly then. We could ask some people for help.

It is time that you slept, my child. I will visit you tomorrow morning.

Anárion had clasped Eönwë’s hand.

Wait! Why are you crying?

I am not crying, little one.

Anárion had wiped a tear off his cheek.

What is this, then? You’re weeping. You once said no one should lie. No lies.

I am not lying, Anárion.

Yalan yok. It means no lies. Silnur told me. He’s been teaching me a few words too. I think I have learned quite a bit.

Have you? Very well, then. Let us see if you can understand me.

The Maia had hinted at a smile as he had sounded out the words.

Yemin ederim yalan söylemiyorum.

Anárion had frowned as he had focused.

Could you repeat it?

Yemin…ederim…yalan…söylemiyorum.

The child had squinted his eyes, a vein bulging on his forehead. He had stared at Eönwë pensively until he had released a deep breath and shaken his head.

It’s difficult and you spoke so quickly. I did not understand what you said. Only Yalan, but that is because I already knew what it meant. I am sorry. I will try to improve. Could you help me?

I very well could. I would love to help you if you let me.

What did you say? What is the meaning of that sentence?

It means, I swear I am not lying.

Thank you. I will remember it.

He had paused and had smiled.

I asked Olórin but I think I would want you to teach me.

Thank you, my child. It is nice to hear. I...

The Maia had been struggling to reign in his emotions.The boy had sensed something was amiss and had looked at him in anguish.

What’s wrong? Are you alright? You are allowed to cry. I’m not like that horrible lady who is friends with mamma. She’s old and ugly. She doesn’t like it when people cry. I once did because I was upset and she slapped me. Don’t worry though, I am not like her. I won’t hurt you. Now, just breathe. You’ll feel better. Ouch, that hurts!

The light in the former Herald’s eyes had dimmed as he had released the child at once. He had not realized he had been gripping the boy's arm.

Forgive me please. I can help you if you tell me where…

Anárion had giggled.

It doesn’t actually hurt! You fell for it. Yalan…

Eönwë had patted the youngling’s head while yet again running his fingers through his hair.

You do not have to speak Valarin if you find it hard. I can understand you perfectly in your language.

I think you speak the Common Tongue very well. I too can understand perfectly.

Why, thank you, my lord.

I like it when you call me my lord. You should do it more often.

Eönwë had released a thunderous laughter.

As my lord commands.

Anárion had stared at him.

You are laughing but your eyes are glazed. You are not truly happy. Is it because of something I did?

No, child, I…what could you have done?

I do not know. No one likes me. Except perhaps Silnur. He’s my only friend. No one else wants to play with me. Especially Mäirel. I hope other Maiarin children can come here. Mäirel can go away whenever she wishes though. She is a Maiarin child I certainly do not want to spend my time with. She is hideous.

Eönwë had giggled.

You certainly have strong opinions, my lord. You must remember to be kind to her though. Regardless of what she tells you, you must always be gentle with her. If she truly bothers you, then…maybe come to me.

The child had nodded.

Everybody listens to you. They respect you so much. All of them. The army, the people...

He had frowned, his pensive gray eyes resting on Eönwë’s hand.

Is it because of that ring? It is beautiful. Can I have it?

Eönwë had smiled patiently.

You cannot have this one, but I can have a ring made for you if you so desire.

Anárion’s eyes had lit up.

Thank you! I will be respected too if I wear a ring. All the important people at court have one. The King, Grandpa Faramir…

Respect must be earned, my child, Eönwë had chided him.

Is wearing a ring not enough?

I am afraid it is not.

How does one earn it then? I always try to be nice to others. That is what my mamma told me. She always mentions how I should treat people the way I would expect to be treated.

Your mother is right. Though in some cases it might not be as easy.

Is my case…one of those?

It might be.

Why?

I will tell you at a more suitable time.

I have heard that before. I hear it all the time. People around here have no imagination. They all act the same. They discuss the same boring things all the time and wear the same boring clothes. Even my mamma’s dresses…I can barely tell them apart.

I agree with you.

My mamma looks beautiful in them though. I know this is very ungentle…ungentlem…

He had taken a deep breath, his eyes alight with frustration much to the Maia’s amusement.

I know it is very UNGENTLEMANLY of me to say, but the other ladies are much uglier. Not as bad-looking as that old lady my mamma seems to like so much for no apparent reason, but I reckon they are not as pretty. My mamma is the most beautiful lady in ALL of Middle-earth. She is even prettier than the red roses that grow beneath her window.

Eönwë had concurred.

Your mother is the most beautiful woman in all of Ëa.

A bewildered Anárion had stared at him.

What’s Eä?

Eä refers to the Created World as a realization of the vision of the One at the beginning of Time. It is another word for Universe.

I thought Arda was the universe.

Arda refers to the world as you know it. As the Children of Ilúvatar know it. Arda is within Eä.

If Arda is our world and our world exists within Eä…does that mean that everything we see, all the things which are and ever were…are also within Eä?

That is indeed correct. Only the Timeless Halls and the Timeless Void are beyond it.

What are they?

The Timeless Halls are the dwelling of Eru Ilúvatar and the Timeless Void is a place darker than darkness.

How can you be so knowledgeable? It almost sounds as if…

As if?

The way you speak of these things…you speak of them as if you had lived them, as if you had been there.

Eönwë had smiled and had averted his eyes, Anárion’s attention once again focused on the Maia’s ring.

It is the most beautiful piece of jewelry I have ever looked upon. Are you certain I could have one? Were you jesting? I never seem to be able to tell whether I am being made fun of or lied to.

I would never deceive you. I would never play tricks on you or mock you. Yalan yok, remember?

Yalan yok.

He had sighed.

I would love to have my own ring. Will my brother have one too?

I have not really thought about it. He certainly could. Possibly.

Will you love my brother more than you love me? You do love me, do you not?

Eönwë’s chest had tightened.

Anárion, aslan parçam benim, of course I love you. Why would you doubt it?

I don't know. I think you WILL love my brother more though. Because he’s yours. You will be his actual father. I…I wish you were my dad too. I never told you, but…I always wanted to call you that. I already have one and I want to meet him again, but you…you were always so good to me. You didn’t have to be, yet you were. You will probably forget about me once my brother is here, but I will not. I will always love you. My mamma was right. She said people couldn’t help it. Everybody loves you and it is not hard to understand why. Oh no…you are crying again. Don’t cry, papa.

The Maia had burst into tears, tears which had soon turned into loud sobs.

Benim aslan oğlum, aslan parçası…thank you.

His voice had cracked. You made me so happy.

Will you take me to fly tomorrow?

I…I do not know if your mother…

Ne olur, babacığım, he had begged, mamma will not know. We shall not tell her anything.

I think it is high time you went to bed, my child.

It is too early for bed. I am six, I am an adult. Early bedtime is only for children. Even my mamma says I am a young man now. That is how she calls me. I may be younger than most but I am a man nonetheless.

It is a common feeling among young men such as yourself. One is often impatient to grow up.

Anárion had rolled his eyes.

I want to ride a horse and fight. I love reading and drawing too, but I am ready to start my military training. I have tried to tell my mamma but she will not listen to me. Can you train me? Could we start tomorrow? Mamma does not necessarily have to know. We could tell her of course, but we could also keep it a secret. Can you keep a secret babacığım?

Aslan parçam benim…

What does that mean? You have called me that before. I forgot to ask you about it.

It is a term of endearment fathers may use when talking to their children. Their male children.

Aslan is the word for lion.

It is.

Parçam benim…?

Parçam could be translated as…a part of me or a piece of me. Benim simply means my or mine depending on what you wish to say.

So I am your��own personal piece of lion? The mane or the tail of a lion? Did you know that the Haradrim once used to keep them locked up  in cages and fed them human flesh? My tutor had me read about it during my History lesson, but Uncle Selim said it’s all nonsense. My tutor was actually surprised when I told him I could read. Did you know that? He did not believe me, that is why he had me peruse that paragraph.

You are a very smart boy, aslan parçası.

Is it a synonym for aslan parçam?

It is indeed. Although they must not be translated literally.

So, what do they actually mean?

My brave boy. My brave son. Benim aslan oğlum.

Babacığım, he had squealed, can we fly and practice sword fighting tomorrow? Can you please teach me how to hold a dagger properly?

Anárion…

Please, babacığım. Please, please, please. Ne olur.

My brave young man, if you think a pair of expressive gray eyes and a squeaky voice can manipulate me into…

He had let out an exasperated sigh. He had relented eventually. Of course he had. He would have done anything for his wife’s son. For his son.

I suppose I…

Yes?

Five minutes of training. Five, no less.

Only five?

Indeed.

But…

No arguing and no talking back, aslanım. And, yes, before you ask, it is also another way of saying…my brave boy.

Anárion’s disappointment had been wiped off his face at once.

I really like your language. Though objectively difficult, it does not seem to be nearly as complicated as Quenya or Sindarin. I think I will very much enjoy learning it. Can we also do that tomorrow? I will write a few sentences in my notebook, and you will translate them for me. And I will repeat them.

As you wish.

How do you say that, for instance?

Emredesin. Emredersiniz is the formal way of address which is reserved for one’s lord or lady.

Are you my lord?

I should like to be your father if you will let me.

You are my lord as well though, are you not? My Lord Father. My other papa was my lord too. I always called him so. Must I also kneel and kiss your hand?

Perhaps you could do in public to avoid any raised eyebrows, especially when other Maiar can see you. That is, if you’re comfortable with it. I would never force you to do anything against your will, aslan parçam. Especially in a private setting. As a matter of fact, I would like to encourage you to forsake formalities when you are with me. The One knows all too well how uncomfortable I become on such occasions.

You squirm every single time someone takes your hand, kisses it and brings it to their forehead. Is it a common custom in Aman? I am aware that you hail from there and so do Silnur, Mäirel and Olórin. All the Maiar are originally from there.

That is indeed true.

Is it a beautiful kingdom? How does it compare to Gondor? I like Ithilien. Ithilien is a Gondorian…fief. I learned this word the other day during my lessons. Politics. I hate politics, it’s SO boring. Why do I need to study it? I would rather read poetry, which I also fail to understand. But it certainly is more to my taste.

The child’s dramatic eye rolls and overall theatrical mannerisms had had the Maia in stitches.

You will one day succeed your father as Lord of Lebennin. There are many things one must know in order to be a just ruler. Politics is one of them. Though I concur that it can be quite unpleasant.

I would like to visit Aman one day. Could you take me? It is beyond the Sea, is it not?

It is beyond the Sea.

He had not had the heart to tell him he would never be allowed in. Thankfully, Anárion had soon come up with other questions. Such an intelligent, insightful child. Perhaps a bit too much of a chatterbox—especially when compared to the restrained children of the Firstborn dwelling in Eldamar—but Eönwë had known another Child of Ilúvatar whose preferred pastime included asking questions at all times. The boy’s mother. His own beloved wife.

Have you been to Dol Amroth?

I have not. Prince Imrahil came to visit but I have yet to the return the favor.

I have not been either. We could go together!

He had yawned and Eönwë had kissed his forehead.

We could travel anywhere, you and I. Would you like to know where you are going now?

The child’s eyes had filled with curiosity and impatience.

Are we going somewhere?

I do not know about myself, but you certainly are, aslanım.

I do not want to go if you’re not with me. You promised.

I can come with you.

Where are we going?

To sleep.

Papa! It’s not fair!

It is late, aslan parçam. You have been yawning quite a lot. What do you think your mother would say if she saw us talking right now?

Mamma is not here. She’s probably sleeping in her room. My brother makes her so tired. I hope she’ll feel better once he’s here. I miss playing with her. Oh, I have a question.

I am not surprised. Go ahead.

How did he end up in her belly? Did you put him in there?

Eönwë had taken a sip of his athelas concoction—the wounds Gorthaur had inflicted him over a decade prior still pained him greatly—and had nearly choked on it. For the longest time, Silnur had believed the stories told to Elven children about babies being carried by special storks assigned to families by Eru himself. If only Anárion had been as naïve…

I…

Deeply embarrassed, the Maia had hastily brought the cup to his lips once more.

It is a really good tonic. Would you like some?

Anárion had eagerly nodded and had quickly emptied the cup.

It is indeed delicious, he had muttered.

He had not spoken for a while and Eönwë had never felt more relieved. Until…

How did you put him in there?

Eönwë had been torn between leaving or faking a coughing fit before deciding against both options. He had taken another sip of the concoction and had cleared his throat.

What makes you think it was I who put him there, aslan oğlum? How do you know it was me?

He had immediately regretted his word choice, but the child had not seemed to notice.

Oh, it’s called logic, babacığım. You went to her chambers and a few weeks later my brother was in her belly. No one else went to her chambers except for you, so it could not have been anybody else.

Eönwë had gulped.

How do you…

I do not know how you did it. I have been thinking about it though and I think I might have an idea.

Eönwë’s had unbuttoned his tabard slightly as he reminded himself to breathe, his hairline drenched in sweat.

Would you care to elaborate?

You started singing and he appeared out of nowhere.

The Maia had swiftly regained his composure.

I sang him into existence? Is that what you’re suggesting?

Something along those lines. My tutor told me something. He said some people called Ainur dwell in Aman, the place where you come from. They are special people, I think. Well, they’re not really people. They have no form, and they sing things and make them real. They think of food, for instance, and food appears before them. They have powers. They don’t have a body like you and I and can travel across objects…I think. I am not sure about that. Anyway, they sing, and they are very good at it. And though you are not one of them—you look far too corporeal—I thought you may have learned from them. You talked to them and perhaps even studied with them. That’s how you know so much. You had way better tutors than most of us.

I did meet a few of them.

Can you actually see them?

Yes. You met some of them too.

Anárion’s eyes had widened in bewilderment.

They came here!? Are they here? I don’t want them to hurt me, I am scared.

They will do nothing to you. Most of them are nice and even those who may appear sterner would not dare touch you. Not while I am around.

How come? Do you have authority on them?

As a matter of fact, I do.

Anárion had slowly emerged from under his favorite blanket, wariness lingering on his features.

Is it because of your ring?

Eönwë had nodded silently.

Was it always yours?

No, my child.

Who gave it to you?

The High King of the Ainur did. His wife handed it to me the day I married your mother. You may call it a wedding gift. Your mamma wears a ring which used to belong to the High Queen.

Anárion had frowned.

Why would the High King give it to you? Who are you? Are you one of them?

I was the High King’s herald. For a long time, I wore the ring Olórin now bears.

So you’re an Ainur.

Ainur is plural. One Ainu, more Ainur. I am an Ainu.

Anárion had not replied and Eönwë had lowered his head.

I probably should have told you sooner. I understand if you are disappointed. I hope you can forgive me. I will see you tomorrow if you can find it in your heart to…

He had risen to his feet, his words trapped between his lips. He had already opened the door to leave the room when he had heard a tiny voice behind him.

Don’t go papa. Stay with me.

He had turned back at once, wiping away a lonely tear.

Oh papa, I am sorry. I never wanted to make you cry. I always make you cry and I feel so bad.

Can you forgive me?

Forgive what?

I lied to you. Yalan yok.

You did not lie, papa. I never asked you about it. Come back here please. Don’t leave me. I will go to sleep; I will do anything you say. I am so proud of you, and I hope that, one day, you can be proud of me, too.

Oh, aslan oğlum, he had whimpered, my brave boy…

I always knew you were special. My mamma would not have married you otherwise. I read about some bad Ainur, but you cannot be bad. You are so good. You are the best of them. And I love you very much. I always did even when I did not show it. I thought I wasn’t allowed to; both because I already had a dad and because I told not to bother you. But…now I understand that I can love you both. I am allowed to love you and I want to be with you and mamma. And then we can all go and find my papa, wherever he is. We could all play together. I miss my other papa, but I can endure everything as long as you’re with me. Because you too are my papa and I love you as much as I loved him. Maybe…maybe even a little more. I shouldn’t be saying this, but…that is what I feel. You took care of me when you did not have to. I could never repay you the way you deserve but I want to thank you. Thank you, papa.

So mature, so intelligent, so well-spoken. Eönwë seemed unable to stop the flow of his tears.

Destur, papa. Destur.

Eönwë had frowned.

What?

Destur. Olórin and aunt Ilmarë always yell it when people are being too noisy and either you and mamma are about to enter a room. I saw a girl cry once and Aunt Ilmarë talked her into…desturing…and she calmed down. I thought it would make you feel better.

A feeble laughter had escaped the Maia’s throat.

Destur is a word to convey attention and respect. An invite to composure. If one wishes to make way for someone of importance—a king or a lord—that is the term to be used in the Valarin language. It can also be used to scold someone for behaving disrespectfully before a Maia of higher status or a Vala. It carries various nuances of meaning.

You are a Maia and that I knew…but you are also an Ainu?

I am.

What are the Valar? Are they Ainur too?

We belong to the same order and share the same core, the very same essence. The Valar only have greater power, will and authority under the One, Eru Ilúvatar.

So…both Valar and Maiar are Ainur. Two different groups of the same sort of…thing?

You could say that.

You said the Valar have greater power than the Maiar. Since you’re a Maia you’re supposed to be weaker than the Valar.

That is correct.

I don’t believe it. Is there truly anyone more powerful than you?

Indeed, my child.

I am not convinced. Has anyone ever beaten you in a duel?

Power is a much broader concept than the mere strength of arm, aslan parçası.

Can we talk about it tomorrow? I am sleepy.

Oh, now you want to sleep?

Anárion had nodded, his eyelids droopy.

I am very sleepy at the moment. I wasn’t earlier but I definitely am now. I swear I didn’t lie. Yalan yok. Oh, I would like Eagle to sleep with me.

Eagle?

My stuffed toy. It’s an eagle so I called him Eagle. I could not think of another name. Perhaps tomorrow…

Perhaps tomorrow. Good night, aslanım.

Babacığım?

Yes?

You can have my pillow. Please don’t go.

You have never asked me to…

I would like you to stay, he had insisted, if it does not displease you.

I will stay for as long as you want me to.

Anárion had excitedly nodded in approval.

Where is Eagle? He must be feeling lonely.

He’s in the trunk where my mamma keeps my winter nightshirts. The one near the door.

Eönwë had opened it and had picked up the toy.

Would you like to change for the night?

The child had shaken his head.

Very well. Would you like me to tell you another bedtime story? It seems to me you rather enjoyed the other one. Perhaps you may prefer to hear an anecdote or…

I am tired, papa.

The Maia had dismissed the sudden feeling of alarm that had awakened within him.

Are you?

Y...yes.

That is certainly unexpected. I would suggest you get some rest then.

I sleep on the left side, you on the right and Eagle will be fine right in the middle of the bed.

He had laid down and the Maia had promptly imitated him.

You can tell me a story tomorrow morning before breakfast if you like. I love your stories. They are always so detailed. I should have known you were one of the Ainur. I genuinely thought you were very imaginative. Like me. Most elderly people cannot tell good stories, but you never were ordinary. As I said, I always knew you were special. But I can’t believe I did not guess it sooner.

It is alright. Though may I ask…did you call me an old man?

I think so.

Do I…look old perhaps?

You look older than me and I am a grown-up now. I am six years old. That makes you an elderly man. Logically, it is reasonable.

The Maia had smothered a wheeze.

Does that make your mamma…old as well?

Anárion had pondered the question.

No.

Oh. How is that? If all those who are older than…

My mamma is my mamma.

Eönwë had cast a tender glance at him.

Of course. So silly of me to even question it.

He had ruffled his dark hair.

Now, get some sleep.

Wait…papa?

Yes?

How do you know I will have a brother? I keep saying I will have a brother because that’s what my mamma says. She only likes boys, but I wouldn’t mind having a sister…as long as she’s nice to me. If she were to be like Mäirel…

Eönwë had chuckled.

She would be a handful.

Anárion had recoiled.

Were that to be the case, I would run away to Lebennin and pretend she never existed. On a more serious note…how do you know?

I really don’t, aslanım. It is only a vague feeling…I cannot really tell you. I’m sorry. I just…I feel it will be a boy.

Do you truly believe it?

I do.

The boy had sighed in relief.

I am beyond happy then. Boys have always been nicer to me than girls. I cannot wait to meet him.

Neither can I.

I am sure Eagle is happy too. He reminds me of you. That’s why I love him so much.

Aslanım…

I’m going to sleep now. I’ll sleep all night. How do you say good night?

İyi geceler.

İyi geceler, babacığım. Seni çok seviyorum.

Where did you learn that?

I don’t remember. Silnur must have taught me. Or maybe I have heard someone else saying it. I don’t know.

Eonwë kissed him on the cheek.

I love you too, my brave son.

Anárion had gripped the Maia’s hand.

Good night to you too, Eagle.

He had clutched his stuffed toy before he had fallen asleep. Eönwë had watched him for a while before he too had slipped into slumber, his arm wrapped around the child’s waist. He had been woken by the sun coming through the windows and had stirred. Anárion had not reacted, his hands clutching his stuffed animal.

Aslanım?

The child had been a light sleeper since birth. He had often been woken by people quietly entering his room or simply sitting next to him. Eönwë knew it. He had caressed his face and had immediately retracted his hand. His skin was cold. Cold and too pale even for a child of Númenórean descent. Eönwë had held him—Eagle falling to the side—and had whispered a lullaby into his ear while rocking him in a rhythmic motion.

Aslanım…

His own breathing had accelerated, his surroundings blurry. He could not breathe.

 Aslan oğlum…

He had coughed and gasped as he walls had closed in around him.

 Anárion wake up! WAKE UP! Hayır…Hayir…you are alright, you are fine…I promised I would take you to fly…get up…please get up…I promised you I would…

He had pressed a hand on his neck. Perhaps he had been mistaken. Perhaps he was fine. Perhaps he was simply exhausted and in need of more sleep. Perhaps all would be well. A six-year-old child was not supposed to…to…

Anárion’s lifeless body had slipped from his hands as his vision had blurred even further. The Maia had fallen forward and his eyes had darkened. Someone had rushed to his side but Eönwë had not seen them.

HEKİM ÇAĞRİN, ÇABUK!!!

Olórin. He could not see his face but he had instantly recognized his voice. That warm, low tone which had always brought him comfort. This time though, nothing would ease his pain. Such pain—having to live with it—was worse than death.

Olórin had yelled—presumably at the guards stationed by the door—to send for a physician. Had he not realized? Had he not yet understood?

Oğlum…öldü.

Eönwë had attempted to grip what he believed to be his herald’s arm but it had all been in vain. He had let out a labored sigh, darkness taking him at last.

-

He had no memory of the days and weeks immediately following Anárion’s death. All that had been able to recall was his wife’s pain. Her screams, her cries, the intense hatred in her eyes.

Elphirion had entrusted his son to you. On his deathbed, he begged you to protect him. Is this how you took care of him? Is this how you honored my late husband’s will? You murdered my son. He was my pride, my light in this dark, horrid world. My heart and my hope. My only hope. And you took him away from me. You betrayed me.

She had attacked him at the risk of endangering their unborn child, the baby brother Anárion had been so eager to meet. The baby brother who would be born only three weeks later and whose funeral they would attend before the end of his first week within Eä. Still nameless, he had been buried in the Halls of Kings. Far too soon had he come and had left just as quickly. His spirit had abandoned his fána and his father had suffered through it, nearly succumbing to grief. The golden-haired Maia had indeed nearly departed the world, for the sudden pain had been too great for him to bear, another loss too grievous to face. His wife had let her rage consume her, yet she had cried and screamed in agony when told of her husband’s impeding doom. She had loved him deeply and, though the ravaging pain in her soul had caused her to lash out at him, she still loved him fiercely. She had been by his side and had slowly nursed him back to health, reigniting the faith he seemed to have lost. She had held his hand and they had healed one another. They both knew the pain would never abandon them, but their love had proved to be stronger than the forces which had kept them apart, their bond stronger than hopelessness. Together, they had bid their last farewell to Anárion, his body to be entombed in Pelargir next to that of his father. Elenna had wept as her son’s body had been transferred from the temporary casket in which he had been resting to a more embellished one which was to be his home until the Breaking of the World. He had been buried with his father’s heraldry, a few books and Eagle, the faithful friend he had clung to in his last moments. Eönwë had quietly approached the casket as his wife and the rest of her party—her ladies-in-waiting, the Steward of Gondor and her siblings—had stepped away. The Maia had slowly removed the shroud covering his body and had beheld him one last time. He was unchanged. His dark hair, his lips, his nose…he truly was his mother’s spitting image. He had been her pride and joy. His death had shattered her. It had broken them both.

Hello, my brave boy, he had whispered, aslan parçam benim. Aslan oğlum…

He had sighed.

You would probably hug me if you saw me right now. You never liked it when I cried. You always went out of your way to try and cheer me up. Especially that one night. Do you remember it? Little did I know it would be your last.

He had smothered a sob.

Words have often failed me. I only wish we could have had more time. We needed more time. You were so eager to learn, to explore, to grow up. Aslanım…I wish I could tell you how you’re missed. I wish you were here to see it for yourself. Perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps you do know, after all. I ignore what lies beyond the Circles of the World, but I hope you are allowed to fly. Maybe you have already met some of my old friends. Thorondor, for instance. His brother Landroval too. They will probably answer some of your many questions. I miss them so much. Your constant, curious, intelligent questions.

He had smiled, his eyes filling with tears again.

You were so smart. You ARE so smart, my child. You shall live on in the memory of those who were lucky enough to get to meet you, to spend some time with you. You have not died, my sweet boy. And neither has your brother. It was, in fact, a boy. A beautiful boy. A sweet boy, just much smaller than you ever were. You would have loved him, I’m certain of it. He…he did not make it. He did not survive. He was so tiny, but he was a fighter. He was brave too. We were so concerned about his health that we did not even think of a name. If he is with you…I would like you to know that you have my permission to do what we could not manage. Just don’t name him ‘Baby’ or ‘Child’. You may call him ‘Brother’, but that is supposed to be a form of endearment, not a given name. I trust you will be logical and reasonable. You LOVED those words. They made you sound so grown and that is what you liked the most, I reckon. You were an adult already. So sensible and caring. We shall meet again but until then…I am going to miss you terribly.

He had hurriedly brushed a hand over his face.

You had asked me for a ring. I had one made for you. It is like mine but smaller in size. I think you’ll like it. I hope so, at least. I am holding it tightly in my right hand. I kept in my pocket for a long while. I would like to give it to you. I think you would accept it right away.

He had slipped it on his left index finger and had shivered as he had pressed his lips and his forehead on his little hand. Death had left him untouched, his body intact.

The Maiarin salute you were so curious about.

He had enveloped him in the shroud before signaling for the casket to be closed. He had bowed his head.

Farewell, my lord. Aslan oğlum. My dearest. Eagle will always be with you. You did not manage to come up with a name for him either, but you needn’t worry. You will have time now. You will never be alone. And when the time comes and Arda is again made whole, we shall reunite. I promise.

He had turned and had glanced at Elenna. They had stared at one another for a moment before falling into each other’s arms.

 He loved you. Oh, how he loved you. It was you whom he had chosen. You were his father.

I know. And he was my son. My dear son. My brave son.

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it!

Additional tags:

@tolkienocweek

@lucifers-legions

@emmanuellececchi

@saurongorthaur9

@evenstaredits

@a-world-of-whimsy-5

@cilil

Please tell me if I've missed someone. Sorry for the delay. New house (still a lot of things to unpack and my internet situation is not the best. Also, my mental health has been giving me trouble these past few days so I'm sorry if I disappeared)

I'll try to catch up and read everything shortly. I'll try to contribute to the OC week as much as I can, but let's just say that perfectionism, writing in a second language, being extra slow at writing and a new house is not the best combo. Still, I'll try polishing and posting more of my writings throughout the remaining days of the week and maybe even later if I can.

Thank you & I hope you enjoyed.

[nobodysdaydreams]

Crack/Crangst idea you want to share?

Once again, a perfect anon, because in anticipation of Star Wars Day, my brain came up with a crack Star Wars AU and now I have an excuse to share it (it’s more crack than Crangst, but I hope you like it!)

This crack au features Anakin and Palpatine as semi-problematic grandparents in an au where Anakin never turns, but Palpatine is never discovered and keeps evilly plotting and cloning himself a son while Anakin and Padme raise their family together. Eventually, Anakin and Padme become grandparents to Ben and Palpatine becomes Rey’s problematic boomer grandpa who shows up at his son’s house on Jakku holidays in order to try to bribe is granddaughter with presents to get her to join the darkside.

Details of this AU include the following in no particular order:

Palpatine cloning himself a son and asking everyone not to question who the boy is or where he came from

Anakin and Padme congratulate Palpatine on his son. Even though Palpatine is fuming because his son is powerless but of course Anakin’s children are some of the most powerful in the galaxy, he has to pretend to be a good father, for the sake of public appearances. He’s really bad at it.

Palpatine initially plans on naming his son “clone attempt 53” or something until his advisors tell him it will look bad if he doesn’t give his son an actual name. Palpatine lazily picks the first name he thinks of and then forgets it and continuously calls his son by the wrong name.

Palpatine’s adult son has to give his dad multiple talks about boundaries and why he shouldn’t be telling his ten-year-old granddaughter Sith legends as bedtime stories

Palpatine (reading a bedtime story to five year old Rey): “Tell me child, have you ever heard of the tragedy of Darth Plageuis the wise? It’s not a story your weak and powerless father would tell you.”

Rey’s Father (yelling from the hallway): “Dad, you know I can hear you, right?”

When it comes to Rey, Palpatine is thrilled that his creepy evil Sith experiments FINALLY created a grandchild with the power he desires, only to discover that power comes with a force bond to, you guessed it, another Skywalker. (Palpatine’s hatred for the Skywalker family grows with every passing generation he fails to turn to the dark side).

Han would for sure make a comment about Sheev being old and say something like “isn’t it weird this guy never seems to die even though he was like super old when Anakin was a kid? And how does he randomly have a son? Where did that guy even come from?” These comments drive Palpatine crazy, but Han is Leia Organa (or Leia Skywalker in this AU)’s husband so he gets away with it. (Also Han regularly almost exposes Palpatine’s plans by making casual jokes. This is not on purpose, Han has no clue what’s going on, and he just sort of roams around the senate building while his wife is in meetings causing trouble and speaking out of turn without a care in the world, but Palpatine grows weary of him and constantly has to change his plans because he thinks Han must be onto him but really Han is just snooping around cause he’s bored).

To Palpatine’s utter disappointment, Rey loves the Jedi. An elderly Anakin specifically takes her under his wing, as she reminds him of a young Ashoka. Plus they both grew up in poverty on a desert planet (because Rey’s dad moved out as soon as he could) so I think they’d have a lot to talk about. I can see Anakin showing up to Luke’s Jedi school specifically to take the kids on fun and dangerous missions and Luke can’t say anything against it because it’s his own dad doing this. I like to imagine Anakin and Rey, impulsive little sand orphans that they are, running around on Jedi missions getting messy and ruining their clothes while Padme and Ben (who would bond over their love of fashion and dramatically stylish capes) always look like they’re trying to be on the cover of a fashion magazine. Also you can’t tell me Padme wouldn’t dress her little grandson, baby Benny, up in the cutest little outfits.

Little Ben, Finn, and Rey go to Jedi training together and Palpatine tries his best to get Rey to spill secrets on Luke and his other students to figure out how to turn them. He teaches her to use force lightening and tries to get her to use it against her classmates but instead Rey teaches her new trick to her friends, who accidentally zap Palpatine in the face. He is not amused. Han accidentally makes jokes about his appearance at a senate meeting in front of a microphone that was left on.

In a last ditch desperate effort to get his apprentice, Palpatine invites himself to Luke’s Jedi school, and when Luke is distracted, he tries to bribe Ben, Rey, and Finn into joining the dark side using the promise of things kids like, including toys and candy. He tried the same thing with Luke and Leia when they were young and it fails both times

There is a point where everyone (eventually) figures out Palpatine is evil, but by then, Palpatine is so old and out of it, it doesn’t really matter. There’s one time where he dramatically tries to stand up and take the energy from Rey and Ben’s force bond at a family party, but then his old man knees give out and he topples over and falls asleep in his chair. I’m not much of a Reylo shipper, but I do think it would be funny if he tried this during the objections portion of their wedding and Poe and Finn have to awkwardly and uncomfortably escort him out like wedding bouncers. I also think it would be funny if during this he yelled something like “Fools! I am all the Sith!” or “You will find that it is YOU who are mistaken!” or “Stand together… die together!” with zero context and shoots forth the teeniest weakest little flash of force lightening he can muster and everyone just writes him off as being an old person who’s starting to lose it.

Might add more later but I hope this finds its target audience.

[premieredimension]

HEY, YES, YOU:

Here's an awesome idea for a wholesome (or disastrously Cartman) South Park episode:

Remember in 1x16 "Reverse Cowgirl" when Clyde's mom dies, making his dad, Roger Donavan, a widower? And remember how Liane Cartman, mother of Eric Cartman, is a single parent and the town slut?

Yeah. I want Liane and Roger to "fall in love" (basically a transactional fuck, but the kids are, of course, too young to understand). This could also be a "true love" kind of thing, where Liane finally has a man in her life. Roger, of course, has to have a big penis then. This would make Clyde and Eric stepbrothers. It could give insight on how awful Cartman can be (as we all know), but also about Clyde. Apart from the last special ("Not Suitable for Children"), we don't know a lot about Clyde— he's a dumb "sexy jock", a cry baby, Craig's best friend and an antivaxx. And what about Roger? Always in the background, never saying much.

This would be a perfect way to bring Clyde and Roger more into the "inner circle", but also an excellent way to talk about blended (dysfunctional) family. Of course, Liane and Roger's relationship would be temporary... Unless she loses the house again and is forced to go live in the Donovan's house, or the two are simply in love for real. This would make the Donavan-Cartman the only blended family in South Park (if I'm not mistaken), and a great wholesome family episode...

Insert the kid's hatred from one another, a shared bedroom between the two, and Clyde's ever present grief about his still dead mom, and you got yourself an episode! Will Clyde accept Liane as his new mom? Of course he will! He's 10 and he misses his mom so much!! He just wants to call someone mom and have a motherly hug!! Will Eric like that someone other than him calls his mom their's? No, of course not, he's Eric Fucking Cartman: the guy who killed the parents of his enemy, cooked them in a chili and fed them to his enemy, just because he sold him some pubes. He's also the kid who got a boob job, the kid who eats KFC chicken's skin only and an antisemitic, racist piece of shit. Which is why most of us love him: he's one of the best characters ever written.

The episode could end in a multitude of ways: Cartman could kill Roger as "vengeance", making Clyde an orphan;

Roger and Liane could end their relationship and everything goes back to normal;

Roger and Liane stay together, Clyde finds himself with a new mother figure and Eric grows a little;

Or it could be something super wholesome like Cartman refusing Roger because he's a lame nerd, but the man's there for him, with projects and homework, and at the end of the day, Eric finally gets what he's wanted all along since season one: a dad. A dad with the bonus of a brother. Insert B plot about Eric and Clyde's new friendship that forces Craig and Stan's to talk to one another. Oh, and PC principal has to have at least one line of dialogue.

I would call this episode "What Are You Doing, Step-Brother?" just because you can't not name it that.

Trey and Matt (or anyone else on the South Park team), if you're somehow on Tumblr reading this, honestly, I'm baffled but at the same time not really 'cause you asked us to draw Tweek and Craig's Yaoi for you a few years back. However, on the off chance that any one of you find this and like this, all I'm asking is 3,50$.

[featherwurm]

The monastery Tav hails from is one of the largest in Baulder’s Gate, and exists in service to the god of justice, Helm. It’s practice is a blend of traditions, with a structure that both serves religious and martial ends. Like any nearly self-sufficient monastery, it is an institution, and almost a little city unto itself. It is large enough to not only support monk-related religious practice and study (which includes the infrastructural support for people who live there – gardens, baths, kitchens, classrooms, dormitories, libraries), but also training for combat-oriented monks, paladins, and clerics, social services for the city (food and medical care for the poor, orphan and other child-related care and services), educational facilities (with a religious bent, but also considered to be a high quality of schooling), and of course, plenty of functions and celebrations. It is a permanent home to many people, and a temporary one for many more.

This close little group used to hang out between the time Tav entered the monastery and left as a solo wandering monk (ages 12-21) – she still crosses paths with them occasionally. They all like to hang out and catch up as adults. They are not her only friends, but they are her closest ones from her time in the monastery, they grew up together and all know each other’s business. They are the ‘weird kids’ that found each other and have stuck together – knowing each other eased a lot of issues from their younger years.

Descriptions below (age is as of the end of the events of Baulder's Gate 3):

Sahayla Cove (52, F, Human) – Very shy and always a little young for her years, she found comfort and safety hanging out with this bunch of weirdos who thought she was very cool and interesting. Eldest of the group. Artistically talented, currently an illuminator at the monastery and loves it. Schooled at the monastery since primary school, took to boarding there for secondary school. As with Tav, has family in Baulder’s gate but her relationships there are very strained. Found comfort in the monastery and never left – is very theologically loyal to Helm as practice, but likes lively debate on divine topics (tends to view gods as just doing their jobs, and sometimes not doing it well.) (Trans woman.)

Dumah Malekson (50, M, Human… or was anyway) – Pragmatic and kind, intelligent and sensible, generally the ring-leader of the group, unless one of the younger ones got a hair up about causing a specific kind of trouble (he only ever held them back JUST enough to stay out of serious trouble – mischief and nonsense were always fine.) Less the dad-friend and more the NCO friend. One of many children of a large Bauldiran noble family who didn’t stand to inherent anything in the long term and was coaxed by his family into joining the monastery as the proper and right thing to do (both for his sake and theirs – it was… mostly his decision.) Eventually trained as and went to adventure as a Paladin of Helm – and has many of his own stories to tell.

Ceili Meddleweed (48, NB, Halfling) – Thoughtful but strongly opinionated and kindof bossy (occasionally got into some VERY mean verbal fights with Tav). Suffers from an unfortunate condition called “being right.” Very nearsighted, and small even for a halfling. Quite contradictory – orderly but not neat, impatient but kind, has a hand in everything they can reach and a wicked memory, but is only really interested in their own business. Originally entered monastic training to become a monk (and be combat trained,) but lost interest in their later teens, preferring study anything that sat still long enough (which proved no trouble to change in the monastery.) Like Tav they still have blood relatives in Baulder’s Gate they interact with – their relationships are fine. They work as a librarian now in the upper city (not in the monastery,) and are a little leery, skeptical, and gruff, but ultimately very very knowledgeable and eager to share it when prompted. (Might also be a sorcerer but keeps their casting ability on the down low – hold person is a cantrip, right?)

Pareesa Denbek (46, F, Tiefling) – Generally quiet and observant (sometimes to a point of being seen as ‘creepy’), but will speak at length once trusting and happy. Born to human parents, they did try to care for her, but were lost to tragedy (probably Bhallist activity – but no suspects were ever named) – became a ward of the state and was bounced around for far too long in foster care until finding a permanent home in the monastery. Although a little traumatized from her background, she has become one of the head gardeners as an adult, and her favorite topic in the world is plant genetics, hybridization, and the minutia of growing conditions and micro-climates. Also has an ongoing project of selecting the monastery's cats for intense vocalizations, much to some of the other inhabitant’s chagrin (they can’t talk… yet.)

Zatavia “Tav” Felix (45, F, Tiefling) – Chronically cranky with a fierce sense of loyalty and a good punch. Entered monastic training at the age of 12 as a way to cope with terrible internal anger (and also not having her emotional needs met.) Grew up into a wandering monk then turned adventurer. Now the hero of Baulder’s gate or something – off having adventures in Avernus or wherever with her partner.

“Grembo” (45, M, Malkin) – Tav’s “biological identical twin brother” (ongoing joke), more outgoing and a bit lighter-hearted than her, but the two of them have a similar sort of approach and vibe. They do behave much like siblings – the only person who can kill the other one is them. He is the main material component in Tav’s spell “fuck your life, bing-bong” (Material – Grembo, Verbal – “fuck your life, bing-bong”, Somatic – Throw Grembo at it.) Grembo is also a combat-oriented monk, he left the monastery earlier than Tav, and has been off on his own adventures.

Helena Oorstag (43, F, Human) – Fearless, outgoing child, not a fighter or angry like Tav, but always amenable to be the first to poke something, touch something, or go somewhere unseen. Desperate to be important and to prove ‘worth.’ Orphan adopted by the monastery at a young enough age (three or four) that she doesn't remember anything much else. In some ways it doesn't entirely suit her, but she doubled down and studied to become a cleric because she thought that would make her ‘best.’ Became much more reserved and stalwart as an adult, after a short-lived adventuring career as a cleric that nearly killed her – slowly and unpleasantly. Works as a potter these days and has a family in the lower city, just enjoys making things with her hands. Her friends say she’s all very different than when she was a kid, but they still love her anyway.

Cian Cian* (41, M, Half-Orc) – Clever but blunt, former street urchin who tried to pickpocket the head abbot, somehow got talked into joining the order (he’s not quite sure how it happened, honestly). Combat-trained monk like Tav and Grembo, but chose not to wander, instead serving to guard the monastery itself (Baulder’s Gate is an interesting city, and all of the large temples and monasteries know to have appropriate force to maintain their standing.) Slow to warm to the others, but he, Grembo, and Tav were sparring with each other from early on and took a liking to each other’s own gruff composure. Still mad Tav grew up taller than him (they were about the same size when they met – he was a big kid and still is a big guy.) *Didn’t know what to put down as his last name so just wrote his name twice.

Posin “Po” Tailclap (40, M, Dragonborn) – Just a little guy, youngest of the group, bright and curious and full of hell, orphan left in the monastery's care as an infant, grew up into a loyal paladin of Helm. Really good at getting into places he shouldn’t be – even in plate armor these days. Curious, bright, bug-eating menace to society. Has a tendency even as an adult to bully people into doing the right thing by being too cheerful and sweet to say ‘no’ to. Idolizes Dumah, as well as Tav, Grembo and Cian to a degree, and all of them lack a bit of humility, so they just run with it and let him do what he wants. (Trans man.) Knows Karlach from having done various volunteer and charity work in the lower city.

[hollowwhisperings]

Elven Maturity (Tolkien)

an interesting thing about Tolkien's elves is how historical they are: they are the living history of Middle-Earth as they know it (dwarven records & the avari memories likely differ).

the noldo and silvan elves met in LOTR are OLD. so old that Legolas could very plausibly be interpreted as having suffered being treated as "the baby" for, like, four hundred years.

(i assume that Arwen & her brothers are older simply because their parents became a couple before Thranduil became a king)

the age of Tolkien's elves thusly makes it difficult to discern a true "age of maturity": Galadriel was born before Arda had a sun, Elrond's dad is a star, Elrond married Galadriel's daughter and her grandkids look as old/young as she does when the Fellowship meets them. Arwen was an "adult" by mannish standards when Estel came to live at Imladris but her subsequent move & stay with Grandma Galadriel spares readers the awkward thought of Arwen grooming Aragorn for her husband.

This fixation on Arwen is Key because she is of the Peredhel, the half-elven. The first known peredhel is technically Luthien, born of maia and elf, but it is her child with a human who is the first "true" instance of a peredhel in the sense of a "Schrodinger's Immortal".

The age of elves becomes very pertinent to the modern reader when Dior is seemingly orphaned, married to an elven princess(?), has three kids with her, gets abandoned(?) by his maia grandmother due to his grandfather's violent death & left with said grandfather's throne... by the age of 33. not as in "33 years of The Trees" or "33 years in The Lamps"... 33 solar years. Mannish years. THIRTY THREE.

Dior was the first peredhel to be both mortal (human) and immortal (elf): Luthien was the Tolkien equivalent of a demigod but it's unlikely that that changed the expectations for her, in terms of lifestages or maturity.

Dior though? He was raised by isolationist elves during a Politically Tense period of time and no love story is alluded to, between he and Nimloth. The elves Dior was raised amongst did not think highly of humans nor dwarves (nor other elves) and Dior was the first half demi-god, half human elf known. Did they think that his mannish blood made him quicker to mature & doomed to mortality? Did Dior or any of the persons involved with his marriage have enough experience with ELVEN children, nevermind human children to compare against, to discern how "mature" Dior was or wasn't?

I cannot think of any elven romance that did not take at least a decade or three to result in a promise of "forever" or 'til mortality. This makes the prospect of a 30 year old King Dior, newly father to twin peredhels, a disturbing image.

Then we have Dior's daughter, Elwing, meet the only other peredhel not related to her: Earendil, son of Idril Celebrindal and the human Tuor.

Where Elwing was raised by elves & recently orphaned, Earendil had grown up in Gondolin with both an immortal & mortal parent to mind him. Earendil and Elwing were both 23 when they wed: this I find easier to accept, with the extent of their shared experiences of being refugees and not-wholly elven. that Tuor, a human mortal, is also canonically present helps significantly with my comfort zone: no alarms rang in his head when these two 23 year olds got hitched and thus, by mannish standards, they were two consenting adults.

HOWEVER.

we still do not know what ELVES think makes a wholly mature elf - the Noldor elves that these peredhel live amongst are still adapting to the "quickness" of mortal lifespans, of life beyond Valinor. There is, presumably, still a majority amongst the Noldo who predate the first sunrise: whether the silvans hold alternate expectations of maturity, based on living amongst mortals all this time, is unknown. I would safely consider Earendil to be am adult by human standards: he may have also had the mental faculties of an adult elf as well, thus able to recognise and understand an Eternal Committment.

...Elwing probably doesn't. She was raised amongst elves and likely expected to be exactly like Dior and he like Luthien: part-divine and thus, potentially, mature by default. Her actions upon meeting her childhood nightmares - the Sons of Feanor - seem more in-line with a traumatised youth than a traditionally "wise" elf (or human): she jumped out of a window with a [very definitely cursed] holy lightbulb without much thought to the two small children she left behind.

which... her childhood nightmare was "The Sons Of Feanor Stole My Parents And Brothers": Elwing yeeting herself from a tower does Exactly That, all to keep her "rightful inheritance" (i.e. Luthien's winning a silmaril off Morgoth by sing-off/right of conquest & Elwing being Luthien' direct descendant).

the only way i can read Elwing's actions - did SHE know she could turn into a bird when she yeeted herself? did she ever plan on, y'know, coming back after her understandable panic response? no? straight off to alleged elf heaven? kidnap fam it is then - is as Elwing, young adult of several species and never truly able to be any bar one, being out of her depth and going full maia (as her great-grandmother melian before her).

Elrond taking a few centuries to get together with Celebrian, Arwen then taking a few decades to figure things out with Estel... the difference between these later love stories in contrast to Dior and Elwing (& to elf/elf romances) is Very Striking.

Tolkien's elves can get very, very old. Their societies developed with the core concept of their getting old & living eternally. Elves cannot simply marry on a whim - they had better be certain on their spouse or they're in for a very, very taxing eternity (the Avari have different customs but any cross-cultural exchanging of notes seems to have failed miserably in the face of The Maeglin Situation).

The first [mortal&immortal] peredhel died before the weight of immortality could be felt; the second peredhels all left the realms of mortals very abruptly; the third generation of peredhels had entirely unique circumstances that resulted in Elrond being Elrond, Father Figure to generations of Mortal Men and Designated Sane Voice in every crisis.

I wonder what Elrond would think of his grandfather Dior if he were to ever meet him: Elrond has spent several immortal lifetimes learning all things peredhel. I struggle to think of Dior leaving the halls of Mandos, of Dior adapting easily to life amongst the truly immortal.

And if I consider 33 to be "too young" for a Peredhel to swear eternity to an immortal elf... what does that mean for the wholly elven Maeglin, whose orphaning at 80 solar years lead to his being RAISED in the utterly alien Gondolin? Maeglin, whose tween crush on his cousin (who is, if not "older than the sun" very certainly "old as heck" at this time) became blown entirely out of proportion due to his very existence being a Scandalous Tragedy to the Noldo.

Maeglin dying at 190 is considered "very young for an elf". What humans was Doriath in the habit of noticing for them to consider 30 year old Dior an eligible bachelor?

[jorisjurgen]

The Crepin-Lore Manifesto.

Part 2: The Art of Being Lonely

[PART 1]

The story, or at least the part of it we do know, begins a long time ago - somewhere in Amakna, the capital of cuisine.

[The Temple of Ecaflip in Aux trésors de Kerubim / The Temple of Ecaflip in Dofus MMO, Amakna]

...But not yet the Ecaflip orphan temple itself. Those pictures are just me stating why the story's in Amakna. Anyway.

Somewhere, in a place we do not know, but close enough that fate would eventually bring the two to the temple, there was a family.

To be precise - a mother, a father, and their daughters and sons, as said by Kerubim himself, which I'll show in a little bit.

...Perhaps, only the mother knew that two of the children weren't her husband's - or maybe she married shortly after having them, and then had more children-

But, the timeline for that is quite tight.

...At the time of the show, Joris is 7 years old.

A tangent on the relationship between Kerubim, Joris, and the concepts of fatherhood and childhood trauma.

In the show, Kerubim never really says the quiet part of his backstory out loud. Obviously. Joris is just a child, and shouldn't have to know that.

Kerubim's goal was that Joris wouldn't have to know what it's like, or even think about it. He had to have a normal, happy childhood.

...Or as happy and normal as someone like himself could give.

Even though his home was not fit for it, and his own age and issues with mental health were a roadblock, Kerubim decided to take him in.

...A part of it is, probably, because Kerubim is a bit selfish. He wants someone who will adore him, and stay by his side.

Even if he knows, very consciously, that it might not be the best thing for Joris.

But there are other motivations , for how attached he was to the idea of adopting Joris, no matter how unprepared or lousy he would be as a father.

The thought that nobody else would understand the way Joris would feel the way he does.

The trauma of what happened during his childhood echoes in his mind to the point that even during amnesia, it still affects him.

Whether he became a hero to impress girls or not, he feels an innate compassion and need to help orphans.

It's his first thought, the go-to example, because he truly knows what it feels like, to be alone, helpless, and without a family.

And as far as he knew before the movie, he made Joris into an orphan with his two hands.

That has to be an awful feeling.

...He never did allow Joris to call him dad, growing up, did he? It's always been grampy-cat. Though everyone knows that he's his father.

Perhaps it felt like too much.

Or maybe he never really reconciled with the fact that Joris really loved him, not just because he raised him. Perhaps he expected him to be mad, when he found out what happened with Jahash and Julith, and that Kerubim has hidden it from him for all this time.

Or he expected him to like Jahash more.

The childhood at the temple of ecaflip wasn't the happiest, wasn't it?

...Obviously he wasn't taking what happened well, early on.

Obviously it made him vulnerable.

Around that time, Kerubim was given the highest honor, of transporting God Ecaflip's food, for being the best disciple of the temple.

And evidently, at that time, God Ecaflip... uh... cared about him as much as he cared bout the other orphans and demigods.

It's unknown how much time passed between this, and the confirmation ceremony.

But I'm sure, God Ecaflip pushed them apart even more.

Guilt, pain, and unreliable narrators.

Have you noticed one really, really funny thing about the show?

Atcham doesn't appear even once in Kerubim's narration, until the second to last episode.

For all the turmoil Kerubim seems to feel, Atcham feels like a secret he kept, up until he felt vulnerable enough to finally share some experiences with Joris.

Atcham's presence is like a blotted out shape he carefully doesn't mention.

It's obvious that almost being killed by Atcham is a reoccurring thing, as much as chasing Lou is, as much as rivalry with Indie is. But it's not present.

So why?

Perhaps, it's because Kerubim doesn't like talking about things that he knows were wrong of him to do. Because he doesn't want Joris to think any lesser of him.

Because he is ashamed. Or, maybe, because he feels bad about the way their relationship turned out.

The picture of what happened, or how Kerubim even felt about Atcham is a bit hazy.

Because it seems, that as much as Atcham hates Kerubim, and Kerubim hates himself, they feel those things for completely different reasons.

[PART 3]

[shinigami-stories-a]

Little Genius

❝ Have you ever heard the story about an artist who painted only in black and white until a beautiful butterfly had come into his world? — Well, then… listen closely. ❞

▸ main character(s) ㅡ lucien

▸ ship(s) ㅡ none

▸ fandom ㅡ mr. love queen’s choice

▸ author notes ㅡ “is this the book you said was hard to understand? ……i’ve already finished it. (smile)” polite lil lucien (age 8). based off this image by yukimaru.

please feel free to share & reblog, but please do not repost.

───────────────────────────────────

It was a rather quiet day as Lucien sat underneath the Camphor tree, sketchbook in hand. He watched as the flowers danced in the wind while the other children ran around playing a game of hide and seek. 

He let out a sad smile, wishing he had friends he could play hide and seek with, but most kids didn’t want to hang out with the “orphan kid”.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a new voice of a young girl as she ran past him. 

“Kiki, Willow, Anna!!” She called out to the kids playing hide and seek, letting out a soft giggle as she reached the group. The three girls gathered around the other, watching as she threw a big book marked ‘encyclopedia’ down onto the soft grass.

Lucien didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help but be drawn to the group of girls, especially the one who had just arrived. She had short brown hair and for some reason, she was the only one who brought color into his life. She was like the butterfly in the story his mom told him before the accident. The brilliant butterfly that brought color into the life of an artist who couldn’t see any.

Lucien watched the girls before looking down at his sketchbook and flipping to a new page.

The three girls all looked at the book with amazement until one had spoken up and asked what they were all thinking. “What is it?” Kiki asked, looking up at her friend.

“I dunno, but it’s a grown-up book I borrowed from my dad’s collection. I was trying to read it, but couldn’t seem to understand it.” A small frown fell upon the girl’s face, “I was hoping one of you guys could help!”

Lucien closed his sketchbook, having finished his drawing for the day before making his way over to the girls. As he got closer, the three girls all turned to him.

“Huh? Who are you?” The 'butterfly’ girl asked, looking up at him. 

“Lucien.” He said, giving her a soft smile, clutching his sketchbook this chest. “I hate to intrude, but do you mind if I join you?" 

Looking at the other girls briefly, she turned back to the young boy. Shaking her head, she moved over and patted the now empty spot before each of the girls began introducing themselves.

"So, what are you girls doing?” He asked, looking between the girls, eyes falling on the girl beside him. Staring over the young boy, the brown haired butterfly was unable to speak up, curious why the young boy was so polite and maybe a little interested in getting to know him better. 

Seeing her friend at a loss for words, Willow spoke up first, “well, we have this book, but it’s a little hard to understand.” She frowned. 

“It’s a grown-up book, of course it’s hard to understand.” Anna added quickly.

Looking down at the open book in front of them, he placed his sketchbook on his lap before picking it up.

“Is this the book you said was hard to understand?” He asked, examining the cover. The girls nodded, looking almost defeated before the young boy spoke up once more. “I’ve already finished it.”

“Wait? You have this book at home, too?” The young girl asked, finally able to speak once more. 

“Well, not exactly. The library has a bunch of books like this and I read quite a few of them during my visits.” The young boy responded with a smile as the three girls looked at him with amazement.

“What? How can you read grown-up books already?” Kiki asked, but didn’t have time to wait for the answer before getting called home. “Aw man.” She said, pouting.

“I’ll leave that story for next time.” He said with a soft smile.

“Okay. Next time! Don’t forget!” She said before hurrying off towards her mother. Before long, Willow and Anna were also called home leaving Lucien and his very own world of color sitting next to him.

“It’s a shame your friends had to leave so soon.” He said in a soft voice, “I guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

As he stood up to walk away, he was shocked to feel himself being pulled back down. 

“No, please stay.” Her voice was soft, but he heard it loud and clear. 

“Did I make a friend? But what if she finds out I’m an orphan?” His thoughts caught him off guard and he felt a bit uneasy at first. Despite this anxious feeling, he nodded and sat back down, stil hugging his sketchbook close to his chest.

“What’s that?” She asked, gesturing towards the sketchbook.

“Oh, this?” He asked, peeking down at his things before tilting his head towards her with a smile. “Just my sketchbook.”

“Can I see?” She asked, cautiously and he nodded, placing it on the ground in front of them. She began thumbing through the pages, pausing on a few to analyze them a bit more. There were trees, flowers, and even butterfly sketches, but one in particular had caught her eye. It was a rather interesting drawing, one of a girl with short hair with the biggest smile on her face. 

“I-Is that… me?” She asked, a light blush creeping on her cheeks. 

Lucien nodded. “Sorry it’s not the best. It was a quick, last minute idea.”

Shaking her head quickly in response, she smiled at him. “No, it’s not that… I… like it.” She said softly. “But why did you choose to draw me?”

Smirking softly, Lucien let out a small chuckle. “Why not?” He wasn’t about to tell her he was drawn to her almost immediately, but… maybe he’d tell her without really telling her.

“Have you ever heard the story about an artist who painted only in black and white until a beautiful butterfly had come into his world?”

Tilting her head, she gave him a confused look. “No?”

“Well, then… listen closely.” He said as he began re-telling his mother’s story. For some reason, he no longer worried about her finding out about his past. In fact, he wanted to share the details of his life with her. He only worried to be judged and pushed away by her, but he trusted her and believed her to be better than that. His beautiful butterfly.