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celery-juice · 1 year ago

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The Big List Of Visual Novel Recs

I fuckin love visual novels, I see one I go 💗💗💗 All of these can be played on PC, a lot of them are free or cheap. I might miss some Trigger Warnings so you should definitely check the store pages yourself

Recently added games are in yellow :]

Dating Sims

Blooming Panic Itch.io Free - "Depressed day-in and day-out from a draining corporate job, you become invested in a fantasy webnovel and find a mysterious link to a fan server. Everyone is warm and welcoming, but four members take a special interest in you!" TW for depression

Jester Under Pressure Itch.io Free - "Diskarte, jester of the high castle, has one job: entertaining the queen. This would be easy except Queen Bahaghari has a penchant for magically exploding the heads of subjects falling below her exacting standards. Can Diskarte avoid this frightening fate?" TW for death, war, and one incident of self-harm (not shown)

Our Life: Beginning and Always Steam Itch.io Free - "A twenty-dollar bill, four summers, fifteen years, and a one of a kind life. Create an experience that’s all your own in this near-fully customizable visual novel where you grow from childhood to adulthood with the lonely boy next door."

Amarantus Steam Itch.io $17.99 - "Arik's been told two things all his life: a tyrant is ruling the country, and somebody needs to do something. Now forced to flee his house after a midnight attack, his parents captured and his house torched—maybe somebody means you. It's time to gather a party, head to the capital, and take the Lord down. Along the journey, this crew of old friends and new strangers will grow closer—or further apart—as your choices guide Arik to win friends, make enemies, play matchmaker, and break hearts."

Saint Spells Itch.io Free - "Join us in our special Valentine’s day release of Saint Spell’s very own dating simulator! In your first week of school, meet 29 magical students, practice some special spells, brew a love potion, or simply slack off…"

Best Friend Forever Steam Itch.io $19.99 - "Pat the dogs... and then their owners. Step into the world of Rainbow Bay in Best Friend Forever, a dating sim-meets-dog care sim where you pat, pamper and train your pup while you search for your own forever friend."

Speed Dating for Ghosts Steam Itch.io $6.99 - "As a lonely specter looking for love in the afterlife, you attend a speed dating event and chat up a cemetery's worth of phantoms, wraiths, and poltergeists. At the end of the spooky mixer, choose your favorite! They'll take you out to all the best haunts: old folks' homes, creepy houses with new owners... Maybe solving a murder is your idea of a good time. Or robbing a bank. Ghosts are into all sorts of things."

The Ratchelor Itch.io Website Free - "Play as The Ratchelor, an eligible single rat looking for love. You'll get to know each of our 21 lovely contestants through intimate conversation. Round after round, you will choose who to eliminate, leaving only your most compatible rat suitors. Finally, at the end of your emotional journey, you will find your rat soulmate."

Someone Stole My Lunch! Itch.io Free - "A short comedy visual novel about your lunch and a thief... both of which are hot." TW for screen shakes

Cooked with Love Itch.io Free - "Perry is, to put it nicely, a bit of a mess. So they can hardly believe their luck when their crush, Lily, agrees to go on a date with them! When the day of the date rolls around, Perry's all set: they've scrounged up some cash, and got a reservation at the nicest restaurant in town. Except... where's their wallet? With nothing left to lose but their dignity, Perry's determined to whip up a fantastic dining experience at home. Sure, they've never cooked before, but how hard could it be, right?"

Cupid Date Itch.io Free - "A short visual novel about three and a half 'love stories' starring a gay alien boy named Kale, whose matchmaking roommate Sugar is determined to help him find true love. But when Sugar's a cupid with his own agenda and all Kale's potential soulmates are under a spell, can love really be all that true?" TW for attempted suicide, depression, and mind control

Dialtown Steam $7.99 - "If you've ever wanted to romantically pursue a phone, then hot DARN, do I have just the game for you."

Hooked on You: A Dead By Daylight Dating Sim Steam $9.99 - "Welcome to Murderer’s Island. Your companions: four dead-sexy Killers who, underneath their murderous exteriors, just want a little romance. Flirt your way into their hearts, uncovering dark twists along the way. Will you find true love, forge friendships… or get hacked to death?" TW for blood, violent threats, referenced murder

Later Daters Steam Itch.io $14.99 on Steam, $15.99 on Itch - "Welcome to Ye OLDE! Your new retirement paradise. Date as an octogenarian and find somebody to love, or just get your kicks in while the getting is good. Remember, if the chairs are rockin', don’t come a-knockin." TW for mentioned death (by old age) and mentioned transphobia from family members

Pinewood Island Steam Itch.io $9.99 - "Find love, solve a murder, and prevent more death in this murder-mystery horror otome | visual novel." TW for drinking, stalking, attempted sexual assault, suicide, attempted suicide, and murder

Meeting in the Flesh Itch.io Free - "Meeting in the Flesh is a free horror/romance visual novel. You play as Vil, the resident of a strange but friendly little city, encountering various people and getting the chance to court one of three different monstrous suitors. Though the game will include some body horror imagery, the game is a romance at its core, with a focus on getting to know and growing closer to your partner. It features romantic scenes that can be toggled between a PG-13 and R rating." TW for body horror

Today, I'm Harvesting You! Itch.io Free - "Very poor and very tired of being single, you set out for your day with one goal: change both of those things, no matter the cost!!" TW for murder, chibi dismembering, organ selling

STOP BURYING ME ALIVE, BEAUTIFUL Itch.io Free - "You wake up to your girlfriend burying you alive, and she won't be convinced that you aren't dead. One of several problems, it turns out, as you find yourself dealing with rats trying to take a few early bites out of you! And just who is the girl talking to you from underground?"

Slasher U Steam Itch.io Free - "A horror-comedy dating sim RPG with full-blown sex mechanics, tons of heartwrenching romance and friendship storylines, and a wicked sick 90's theme sure to make even the most deep-fried saw dungeon aesthetics/dick jokes fans jealous."

Chill Fun

Butterfly Soup Itch.io Free - "A visual novel about gay asian girls playing baseball and falling in love." TW for ableist slurs and brief written depictions of parental physical and emotional abuse

Syrup And The Ultimate Sweet Itch.io Free - "SYRUP AND THE ULTIMATE SWEET is a visual novel made for YuriJam 2015! it's about a candy alchemist, syrup, who one day finds a candy golem in her basement workshop. where did she come from?? who the heck made her????? GO FIND OUT!! did i mention there are 10 endings because. that's right. 10 endings."

Lonely People Potion Shop Itch.io Free - "Somewhere deep inside the magical forest forgotten lies a hut, a potion shop! The creatures of the lands near and far come visit this tiny place sharing their stories, feelings, thoughts on the mystery that's about to unravel... And it's your job to pour 'em some potions!"

The Murder of Sonic The Hedgehog Steam Free - "Sonic the Hedgehog...was murdered!? Get to the bottom of the mystery in this brand-new adventure!"

The Ratchelor 2 Website Free - Another season of The Ratchelor with all new characters!

I love my follower (count) Itch.io Free - "You are an Eldritch horror, summoned to the human realm. You’re soon to realize, however, that you have more in common with your followers than you thought - they, too, have a longing for The Void. The Void in their case is, however, mostly something they call ‘y2k’ and ‘retro anime aesthetics’.But oh well, every god needs clout."

Creature in the Corner Itch.io Free - "AND IT SEEMS HUNGRY. YOUR CHOICES WILL DECIDE WHAT THE CREATURE CONSUMES (HOPEFULLY NOT YOU)." TW for possibly being eaten

Sad Shit

He Fucked The Girl Out of Me Steam Itch.io Free - "A semi-autobiographical narrative visual novel about trauma and sex work made for the gameboy. The author explains how sex work impacted her life and changed her perception of the world. The game takes approximately 40 minutes to play from start to finish." TW for dubious consent, disassociation, transphobia from family members, sissy kink, misogyny/transmisogyny

Milk inside a bag of milk inside a bag of milk Steam Itch.io $1 - "A short story about what sort of challenges everyday little things can be. Help the girl buy milk, be the first not to disappoint her." TW for parental abuse

if not us Itch.io $7.00 - "Seven years ago, five heroes were brought together to save the world. Their success came at the cost of their leader's life; the secret behind it cost them their friendship. Now they've been summoned for a new heroic quest. if not us is about the moment when they realise everything isn't going to be okay." TW for death, including of the player character

Horror

(Don't) Open Your Eyes Itch.io Free - "A short, horror-themed Visual Novel about a midnight encounter with a mysterious being. Through conversation, you'll learn more about them, such as their journey so far, or what they think about themselves. And every now and then, it'll make a simple request out of you: to open your eyes."

Don't Toy With Me Itch.io Free - "For a long time now, Dahlia has lived by herself in the Dollhouse with only the stuffed rabbit Wisker for company. One day the owner of the toys decides to present her with a new companion, a sad clown puppet named Huxley. She's delighted for the company but, as the owner soon realizes, it's not so simple to introduce a new friend to the household." TW for manipulation, emotional abuse, murder, violence, body horror with non-human characters

Therapy with Dr. Albert Krueger Itch.io Free - "Has work been feeling more tiring than usual? Your mood, confusing and uneasy? Losing the confidence to speak up when you want to? Then it sounds like you need our newly patented ★DREAM THERAPY★!" TW for jumpscares, loud noises, disturbing and flashing images, implied violence, and cartoon gore

Find Love or Die Trying Steam Itch.io Free - "It's the premiere of our new dating show, where ending up single... means ending up dead! Not sure why you'd sign up for this, but now that you're here, you've got 7 days to get one of the lovely ladies on your tropical island getaway to fall in love in with you. If she's willing to put a ring on it, you're both free to leave. If not... well, it's in the name of the show!" TW for manipulation

Creature in the Corner Itch.io Free - "AND IT SEEMS HUNGRY. YOUR CHOICES WILL DECIDE WHAT THE CREATURE CONSUMES (HOPEFULLY NOT YOU)." TW for possibly being eaten

#visual novel #video games #pc games #visual novel recs #video game recommendations #dating sim #indie visual novel #indie games #itch.io #steam games #steam

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findingnemosworld · 1 year ago

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𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧 - 𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐬

・𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐦𝐞 ( 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢'𝐦 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐧 )

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 ( 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 )

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐝, 𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐟 𝐮𝐩.

𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟕

The pub was semi crowded with several people coming in to unwind after a long stressful day, amongst those people were twenty two year old Ainsley Kingston and twenty three year old Clara Santori, the two culinary arts students who had decided to step out in order to celebrate their most recent success as well celebrate Clara finally leaving her boyfriend of two years, Jadon Collins.

Ainsley was able to find an empty space, ordering two pints. " I'm so glad you woke up and left that bonehead! " she states.

Clara giggles, " Freedom does taste good! "

To say it has been difficult would be an understatement - she'd met and quickly fell in love with Jadon, an indie musician completely by chance - much to the dismay of Ainsley who advised her to let him go as the blonde was aware that he in fact, wasn't as good as he made himself out to be.

" Now, you can focus on achieving higher grades and think of the future you'll have as a top chef! " Ainsley said before giggling " Our restaurants or bakeries might end up competing, but all in good fun "

The pints were placed in front of them and Clara sighed, " I am not going to let any man distract me, no matter how talented and handsome he might be "

Ainsley lifts the pint up, " To new beginnings, better grades and most of all, no men "

Clara beams, gently clinking her glass with hers. " Cheers! "

They spend the rest of their time chatting over future holiday plans when Ainsley suddenly stopped talking, her eyes widening as though she'd seen a ghost, " Oh my lord! "

Clara frowns, " What? "

" Four Liverpool football players just walked in " Ainsley whispers.

Clara raised a brow, " I didn't know you liked football! " she exclaims.

Ainsley rolled her eyes, " My father does, I only watch it cause the players are cute " she laughs, " but seriously, look " she discreetly gestures to the booth.

Clara subtly turns around to check, the smile on her face falls and her eyes widen. " Fuck! " she blurts out.

" I know right, they're all hot! " Ainsley murmurs.

" No " Clara shakes her head before adding," Fuck as in one of them is my former high school boyfriend who dumped me for his football career "

Ainsley raised a brow, " Wait which one? "

Clara takes a big gulp of her drink before muttering, " The one with the blonde hair, who has a hair tie? he's sitting next to the ginger haired player "

Ainsley takes another look, " Wait ... is that? "

" Fernando Torres, yes? last time I checked, he was playing for Atlético Madrid " Clara groans. " I had no idea he's playing for Liverpool now "

" You should go talk to him " Ainsley shrugs before taking a gulp of her drink.

" And what do you expect me to say? 'Oh hi! remember me, the teenage girl that you said would hold you back' " Clara mimicked a cheerful tone before rolling her eyes, " There is no way I'm going there so let's finish our drinks and leave "

Ainsley shakes her head, " Whatever you say? "

She finished the last bit of her drink right after Ainsley and as they tried to slip out undetected, she stops upon hearing the all too familiar voice calling out her name. " Lara! "

Clara winces, silently cursing herself as Ainsley struggled to hide her smile; the brunette turns around to face her former lover from way back when, " Nando! Hola " she said a bit too cheerfully.

" Hola " Fernando smiles, " I thought I was dreaming when I saw you earlier, I mean ... wow, you look "

" Different, yes I am fully aware of that " Clara chuckles, " I can safely say the same to you, I mean last time I heard you were still in Atletico playing "

" Yes, but when the offer from Liverpool came, it was very difficult not to accept it! " Fernando shrugs, before turning to Ainsley. " It's nice to meet you, I'm Fernando "

" So I've heard " Ainsley smiles, " Ainsley " she turns to Clara, " I'll wait in the car ok "

Clara nods swiftly before turning to Fernando, " It was great seeing you but I have to go now " she gestures to the door.

Fernando nods, before he said. " Do you think we can meet over a cup of coffee or breakfast sometime? "

Clara halts in her steps, gnawing on her lip as she debated whether or not she should accept the offer; a few seconds had passed before she relents, nodding as she rummaged through her purse to pull out a piece of paper she had and a pen, she writes down her phone number and hands it to him. " Here, call me whenever you're free "

Fernando smiles, " I will, it was great seeing you Lara "

" You too Nando " Clara smiles back.

______________________________________________________________

𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐝, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

The last thing Clara expected was to restart her life after a rather messy divorce, her former husband had been shamelessly having an affair for five years and as much as she tried her best to walk away as quietly as she can - he was more than hellbent on making things far arduous for her to the extent of forcing her to move back to Madrid and start her life once again with her adopted children, seventeen year old Atlas and eleven year old Sara.

Early on in her life, Clara had discovered her inability to have children which prompted her and her former husband to adopt, and while her husband was more than kind to both children, she couldn't fathom why he up and decided to betray her in such a foul manner yet she opts not to dwell on it, choosing to return to her roots and help her mother with the family bakery while both her children chased their dreams, mostly Atlas whom has been a part of the Atletico Youth Academy.

Clara had noticed early on just how passionate the young boy was in regards to football which fondly reminded her of Fernando, and thus, she helped him with try outs and was proud to see him flourish each time he played. Sara, on the other hand was as passionate as Clara was about bakery which thrilled the brunette as she used her passion as means for them to connect further.

On one evening, Atlas returned from training with a proud smile across his face. " I have big news! "

Clara and Sara, who were in the kitchen both smiled. " What? "

" The coaches were so impressed with me that they want me to feature in the next UEFA Youth League fixture against Bayern Munich " Atlas exclaimed.

Clara smiled widely, " I'm so proud of you " she embraced her son.

" You should have seen the looks on their faces Mamá, they said I possessed an advanced skillset that will shine in the match, I'm going to start practice tomorrow " Atlas said.

" Great job hermano " Sara said with a smile.

" Gracias hermanita " Atlas smiles.

" You are exceptional baby, so there's no doubt you'll fly even higher " Clara said, " you know what, with such big news, I say we order food tonight "

Sara cheers, " Yes! let's order from the new Italian place that opened up "

" Yeah, Ferran said they have great pizza! " Atlas nods.

Clara makes an order than asks Atlas, " When's the match going to be? "

" Next Monday, I was honestly hesitant on accepting but Mister Torres said I reminded him of when he used to play " Atlas said.

Clara's eyes widened at the mentioning of the familiar last name, she looks at her son. " Who? "

" Mister Torres, he was recently appointed as the coach to the youth side after he came back from Japan " Atlas said. " It was so cool playing in front of him "

Clara smiles, " I'm proud of you " she strokes Atlas's cheek; ignoring the way her heart fluttered at the thought of him, it had been twelve years since she last spoke to Fernando, their last encounter happening just mere weeks before he made the shocking move to Chelsea.

" Gracias Mamá, I wouldn't have made it without you and Sara supporting me! " Atlas said.

That night, Clara had lied awake in her bed; her mind clamored by the many thoughts interlaced with one another - she didn't keep up much with his career, but had only heard tidbits from her family that knew his family, so the chances of them ever meeting again seemed slim to none up until now, it would only be a matter of time before she saw him again, given his new status as her son's coach.

______________________________________________________________

𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟕

Finding time between studies as well as football seemed rather arduous for Fernando and Clara yet they were somehow able to make it work; she'd often come and attend his matches whenever she can and he became her personal taster before she was set to deliver her assignment, and while they both agreed that their bond was strictly that of two people reconnecting as friends, the soft undertones would peak every now and then to haunt her, causing her to wonder if there was perhaps a future for the two of them

On one evening, Fernando stopped by to spend time with her before Liverpool's upcoming bout against Manchester United, she'd given him an extra set of keys to facilitate his visits, he walked in and was immediately hit by the scent of freshly baked goods with a hint of spice, following the scent to the kitchen - he is met with a distressed Clara who was surprised by seeing him, " I thought you had practice "

" I finished early! " Fernando exclaims, before asking. " Lara, are you ok? "

Clara heaves out a soft breath, " If you count me baking for the third time because there's something missing in this stupid assignment then no I'm not fine "

Fernando sighs, for as long as he had known Clara, he was well aware of her tendencies to strive for perfection; often times leading her to become distressed and disassociated with reality. " Lara! " he walks over to her, " Why don't we go out? drive around the city? "

" Nando " Clara groans, " I can't ... "

" Yes you can, your assignment is not due until a week from now, and I'm very much craving something sweet so let's go out " Fernando said.

Clara shoots him a glare to which he responded with a chuckle as he leads her to her bedroom, " You'll thank me later, now go and change please "

She relents and changes into a shirt and a pair of jeans before joining him on a drive around the city, they barely spoke as the only sound heard was that of the radio playing music, Fernando stops in front of a small café, he leads Clara to the table near the window and orders two slices of chocolate cake for them, " Look at me! " he said.

Clara looks up, " Hm "

" You're beyond gifted when it comes to food, and I'm not just saying that cause I've known you for so long, it's the truth, it's why you got this far and you'll reach even higher " Fernando said, smiling when he noticed the faint smile adorning her lips. " Besides, when you open up the first restaurant, I'll be there proudly boasting about how I've known the amazing Clara Santori since childhood "

Clara's eyes softened, " You think so? "

" I know so " Fernando takes her hand to squeeze it. " I fully believe in you "

They spend the rest of the time eating their cake slices while she asked him about his upcoming matches, " I'm nervous " he admits with a chuckle. " But I'm trying to remain hopeful, especially since the coach believes in me, Stevie believes me as well as the team "

" And I believe in you, you're glowing whenever you play and that makes me happy " Clara smiles.

Fernando smiles back before saying, " I'm really sorry for the way I hurt you Lara! " he said.

" It's fine Nando, we were just two emotional kids " Clara shrugs, " It took us a while to understand, but at least we can be friends now "

Fernando chews on his lower lip before sayin with a tentative shaky tone, " What if I don't want that? "

" What? " Clara said with a confused expression.

" Lara, spending all this time with you made me realize that I don't think I can see a future without you in it " Fernando said, " I know I'm asking for a lot but, do you think we can ... I don't know " he chuckles nervously. " Start this on a different note, because you mean the world to me "

Clara would lie if she said she hadn't thought of the prospect of starting all over with Fernando, he was always her first love and you never forget your first, and reconnecting with him these past few months had shown her just how much she missed him.

" On one condition " Clara said.

" Anything! " Fernando said.

" If by any chance, this doesn't work, we will be very honest with one another and walk away on a good note " Clara said. " I want to try this again but you have to be patient with me "

" I promise " Fernando squeezes her hand. " I'll wait for you, forever "

They end their evening with a stroll in the park and just as the weather had gotten chilly, Fernando had removed the cardigan he was wearing to place it around her before wrapping his arm around her shoulder to tug her close, and for the first time, in a really long time - she felt seen, loved, and secure.

______________________________________________________________

𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐝, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

" Mamá "

Clara blinks, drawn back into reality by the sound of her daughter's voice, she turns around and smiles, " Sí, hija "

" Are you ok? " Sara asks her, " You've been acting strange since Atlas mentioned the name of his coach "

Clara sighed, she was certain that her reactions were not noticeable yet her daughter was very much perceptive in certain moments, " I'm fine hija, don't worry "

" Are you sure? cause the second Atlas mentioned name, it was like you've seen a ghost or something " Sara said.

Clara shakes her head, she did in fact see a ghost; the ghost of the past she had worked hard to bury. " Sara, I'm ok. I was just drained from work and to be fair, surprised by your brother's words, that's all there is "

Sara nods, " Ok, but if you're not feeling well, you can tell me "

Clara smiled, Sara might have been ten yet she had such an old soul. It's one of the reasons why she had felt drawn to her the first time she met her during the adoption proceedings. " I know, but don't you worry ok "

Sara nods, reaching to pull her into an embrace. " I love you Mamá "

" I love you too hija " Clara smiled, pressing a kiss to her head.

The following morning,

" Fernando is coaching Atlas! " Clara blurts out while she and her mother were organizing the display table, " Did you know? "

Beatrice nods, " Sí, it's all over the news, you didn't know? "

Clara shakes her head, " You know me, I barely check the news! so I was surprised "

Beatrice raised a brow, " surprised or ... something else? "

" Mamá " Clara groans.

" I'm not trying to make you feel guilty but you were the one that refused to speak to him when he tried to reach out " Beatrice said with a shrug.

" I had a very good reason " Clara said, " But it's long gone, and besides it's not like I'm going to run into him, Xavier drives Atlas home from training so that saves me the embarrassment of seeing him again "

Beatrice sighs, " Clara, hija! I think you should talk to him "

" Why? I have nothing to say, the last time we saw each other he outright said that I was holding him back, again " Clara said. " And then no more than a week later, he was seen with someone else so why should I talk to him? for all I know he could be married, and has kids so I'm going to save myself the trouble and pretend he's still off somewhere else "

" Who taught you how to play like this? " Fernando asks the young boy while he was helping him practice.

" My Tío, he gave me the basics and I spent the rest of the time watching old videos and trying to work my way into understanding the rest, then my mother helped me with driving me to and from several academies until I was accepted here " Atlas responds.

Fernando nods, " What about your father? "

Atlas chuckles, " He left us, me, my mother and my little sister! all because my sister and I are adopted, and in his words - he wanted actual children, my mother on the other hand gave up her dreams of becoming a restaurant owner to help me and my sister get a better life "

Fernando frowns, " Your mother was a restaurant owner? "

" She was going to be " Atlas said. " We lived in Paris for a while and when my father left, she decided that it was best for us to return here to Madrid "

No, it can't be. Fernando thinks, shaking his head before saying, " I'm glad she helped you get here, you've got a bright future Atlas "

" You think so? it's always been my dream to go professional " Atlas smiles.

" And you will, I believe in you " Fernando smiles, recalling how she used to tell him that each time he felt nervous.

" Gracias Mister, I promise I won't let you down " Atlas said.

" I know you won't " Fernando said. " Listen, why don't you invite your Mamá and sister to come and see you play in the match against Sevilla "

" Sure, I'll tell them " Atlas smiles.

______________________________________________________________

𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟏

" What am I supposed to do? " Fernando asked, feeling both confused and slightly afraid after she had convinced him to help her in the kitchen.

" Grab the piping bag " Clara giggles, before she grabbed the other one full of the icing mix.

" Ok " Fernando nods, grabbing the piping bag. " Now what? "

Clara carefully displayed the way in which he places the piping bag over the cupcake, " You slowly press and it creates a flower, see " she said.

Fernando observes her and smiles before nodding, " Ok, let's see " he tries to mimic her, " Like this? "

Clara places her piping bag and leaned closer, placing her hands over his to guide him through. " Try to go slow but not too slow " she said.

Fernando looks at her then looks back at the cupcake, smiling when it turned out quite well. " It's good "

" You're a quick learner " Clara beams.

Fernando blushed at the remark, " remember when we nearly burnt my house down because we tried to bake cookies "

Clara nods laughing, " I think your Mamá almost killed me "

" No, she loves you a lot! she was very angry when we broke up the first time " Fernando said. " And I don't blame her! "

Clara smiled, " At least we managed to find our way back to one another "

Fernando nods, placing the piping bag down on the counter, he cradled her face in his hands and pressed a long yet soft kiss to her lips, smiling against them when she let out a small moan. " Careful Lara, or else we're going to be distracted " he chuckles.

" Maybe I want to distract you " Clara giggles.

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫,

Clara had walked into their shared home, a sense of dread washed over her. " Nando! " she received no response in return, which made her frown in confusion - she looks around, finally realizing that the home was semi empty as any remnants and traces of Fernando were gone, the only thing she noticed was a paper placed on top of the kitchen counter, nervously, she grabs the paper and unfolds it to find a handwritten letter.

___

Lara,

It was hard for me to write this latter, as I have rewritten this plenty of times but I think it's best if I do this instead of telling you because I wouldn't survive seeing you cry, I'll start this by saying that I love you and that I didn't mean for this to happen but - I can't do this, I can't let myself be held back and in turn hold you back.

Chelsea had offered me a good deal, and I couldn't refuse and knowing that you have so many dreams ahead, I can't possibly live with myself knowing that you might give them all up and move to London with me, so I think it's best if we go our separate ways.

I am grateful for all the love and support you've given me but you deserve someone that'll give you the stability and love you're searching for - and I hope that find that person in the end, I don't know about you, but what I do know is that I'll keep you in my mind forever, I love you so much.

Please, don't try to contact me, it's best if we don't talk.

Love, Nando.

___

Clara had taken a moment to compose herself before she rolled up the paper and threw it in the bin, she then grabs her cellphone and dials Ainsley's number. " Hey, ... " she said, " Can I come over? Ok, I'll be on my way "

______________________________________________________________

𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐝, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

It's almost as if their hearts had told them, that after such a turbulent period of time; they'd find a way to see one another again, Clara was afraid and so was Fernando - throughout the match, he'd tried his best to be focused yet ever so often, his mind would draw back to the fact that within the crowd of people in attendance to see the match was the only woman he had truly loved, and it didn't truly settle until his side had won and the parents were congratulating their boys that Atlas nearly sprints towards Clara to embrace her.

Fernando watched from where he stood, a mixture of shock and a sense of longing settled; she hadn't changed much save for her brunette locks growing in length and the presence of more lines across the corners of her eyes, her ever bright smile remained the same and it wasn't until their eyes met that her smile fell, yet not for long as it instantly appeared when she looked at Atlas.

Atlas then leads her and whom he presumed to be his younger sister towards him, " Mister, this is my Mamá Clara, and this is my younger sister Sara "

Clara's eyes were screaming as she forced a smile then extends her hand, " It's nice to meet you "

Fernando understood why she would do that, his manner of departure had hurt her more than it hurt him, he shakes her hand with a forced smile. " Likewise "

Clara turns to Atlas, " Hijo, take Sara to the car with you. I want to speak to your coach for a bit "

Atlas nods, " sure, come on Sara " he leads his younger sister away.

Clara watched them then turned to Fernando, " I want to make one thing clear, I don't know you, you don't know me and what we had before, was just an illusion. I'm going to be as civil as I can throughout this time for the sake of my son, but other than that - I am not expecting any kind of explanation, much less an apology "

" Lara " Fernando whispers.

" No " Clara raises her hand, " It's Clara, only those closest to me call me Lara "

#fernando torres #fernando torres imagine #fernando torres fanfiction #fernando torres one shot #el nino

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riverdamien · 3 months ago

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Life Is An Allusion!

"Life Is A Grand Allusion!"

(Elijah's Trauma!"

1 Kings 19:4-8

New Living Translation

4 Then he went on alone into the wilderness, traveling all day. He sat down under a solitary broom tree and prayed that he might die. “I have had enough, Lord,” he said. “Take my life, for I am no better than my ancestors who have already died.”

5 Then he lay down and slept under the broom tree. But as he was sleeping, an angel touched him and told him, “Get up and eat!” 6 He looked around and there beside his head was some bread baked on hot stones and a jar of water! So he ate and drank and lay down again.

7 Then the angel of the Lord came again and touched him and said, “Get up and eat some more, or the journey ahead will be too much for you.”

8 So he got up and ate and drank, and the food gave him enough strength to travel forty days and forty nights to Mount Sinai,[a] the mountain of God.

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

Elijah is one of my heroes. He admits radically when he is traumatized by the violence of the regime he has fled; it has crippled his ability to care for himself and God responds to Elijah's very precarious situation, by performing an extraordinary act of solidarity, not in the prophet's violent rampage but in his moment of vulnerability.

In the same way these past weeks I have been pushed into my most vulnerable moments, moments of deep fear, rage, and anger; Over twenty years ago I was stabbed in the bottom of my skull and a piece of the instrument broke off, where it has remained simply being there. In my bi-annual examination in L.A., the Doctor discovered that it is now slowly moving, inoperable, and will in all likelihood kill me in the next three years. The song The Grand Allusion by Styx rings in my head:

“Welcome to the Grand illusion Come on in and see what's happening Pay the price, get your tickets for the show The stage is set, the band starts playing Suddenly your heart is pounding Wishing secretly you were a star But don't be fooled by the radio The TV or the magazines They show you photographs of how your life should be But they're just someone else's fantasy So if you think your life is completely confusing because you never win the game Just remember that it's a Grand illusion 'Cause deep inside we're all the same We're all the same... So if you think your life is completely confusing because your neighbors got it made Just remember that it's a Grand illusion And deep inside we're all the same America spells competition Join us in our blind ambition Get yourself a brand new motor car Someday soon we'll stop to ponder What on Earth's this spell we're under We made the grade and still we wonder Who the hell we are?” Styx

Like "Jessie" who long ago drew the painting, amid the depression, that led to his suicide, over his plight over being gay I have and am questioning everything I am, and whether or not I have failed. All I have tried to do is be a pastor, listening, caring, and supporting. Is all this simply a "grand allusion!"

Last night I encountered a fifty-year-old man, eating out of a garbage can, and I said, "Hey come here and I will buy you some food. He had not eaten in two days, was obviously on drugs, and was mentally ill, feeling threatened by everyone. I bought him a couple of pizza slices and listened to him. I wonder a lot if I have failed, after all, I mostly listen to people, I do not feed hundreds a day, I do not scream at the government, I sit, with a sign once a week, and if someone wants to talk, we talk, hopefully planting a seed of change. I am simply doing "Little by Little!" I believe that gentleman is the "broken body of Christ", and I fed Jesus! Is that a grand allusion?

"Life is a Grand Allusion!" Society has surrounded us by ways of finding meaning, and religious traditions that ultimately are destructive when taken to the extreme, and all I see is people suffering on the street and dying.

I have spent the past three weeks in the desert alone, with just me and my Bible, reflecting on maybe I should end it now- I am a failure, and no one gives a da. . mn! "Take my life, Lord, for I am no better than my ancestors. ."

Amid my fears and depression, a poem that has meant so much to me for years rang into my head:

“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.” ― Rainer Maria Rilke

And the words of the Angel came to me: "Get up and eat some more, or the journey ahead will be to much for you.!(19:7). I will get up and continue my journey in ministry!

And so I am moving back into life and will seek to "Live the question now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it live along some distant day into the future!"

And in living the question I will "Live to the point of folly and in the words of

Kawaga: “Being a freelance tramp, a

Vagabond for Christ. I must go until

Christ’s work is done. I go like the wind!” Deo Gratias! Thanks be to God!

Put me in jail, then. Throw me behind your religious bars since you have dubbed me a breaker of your law. I live my days in the courtroom of your criticism. I move unbothered under the gaze of your gavel. I have no interest in defending myself before your bench. Go on, clench your fists, raise your voice to make your point. Type the rebuke that you must make on my page. Who asked you to come through anyway? Is this rage your duty? We operate under a different set of obligations and get worked up to frustration for different reasons, even though we both claim fidelity to God. If you were interested, which I doubt, here is where my passion lies: feed the hungry, clothe the naked, heal the sick, defend the rights of the orphan, plead the widow’s cause, and woe to you who unjustly enforce God’s Law. Why spend your energy policing me when that same energy could be used to love, fiercely? Justice, mercy, and humility. Go learn what this means. Drew Jackson Deo Gratias! Thanks be to God!

======================

30th Anniversary Celebration

Victor’s Pizza

6 p.m.

November 9, 2024

WE ARE BEGGARS! WE REALLY NEED MONEY--Really Badly At the moment!

FOR FOOD, SOCKS, HARM REDUCTION AND OTHER SERVICES!

P.O. Box 642656

415-305-2124

[email protected]

pay pal

www.temenos.org

(Temenos and Dr. River seek to remain accessible to everyone. We do not endorse particular causes, political parties, or candidates, or take part in public controversies, whether religious, political or social--Our pastoral ministry is to everyone!

Temenos Catholic Worker

P.O. Box 642656

San Francisco, CA 94164

Dr. River Sims, sfw

#homeless #spirituality #povertyy #youth #homelessness #lgbtq;

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caranelguild · 2 years ago

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The Celer Gontalus safely ensconced at a mid-city harbour tower by noon, our adventurers head to the nearest public house to gather some information. Krieg learns that foreign nobles have, within the last twenty or thirty odd years, been establishing themselves and seeking to exert influence on the direction of the city. The others learn, among other inconsequential things, that there is a street performer in the famous tiered garden district of the city who uses weasels in his act, and this takes precedence over anything else.

Krieg and Vola pay well over standard to hire rickshaw drivers willing to race them to the gardens and the others follow more sedately for pennies. The tiered gardens of Kaigan Katai stretch for thousands of acres down a slope that in ancient history was under the sea; Krieg (whose rickshaw driver won the race) and Vola are well ahead of their companions to the incredible vista at the top of the gardens, and they don’t waste time in observation but head down a wide, lengthy stair to a central plaza in the middle of the gardens where Vola learns to her disappointment that the weasel performer only comes out in the morning.

But there are plenty of other buskers, bards, and performers to occupy the gang’s interest. By the time Damaia and Quagoon arrive, Krieg has already been listening to stories for some time, hoping to pick up anything related to the marsh-god’s sense-poem, and Vola is in conversation with an old gnome and her ancient, balding parrot.

The goliath is hard-pressed to hold back from funding a weekend getaway to a resort spa for the centenarian bird, but does donate enough cash for him and his owner to happily provide some information about the “new nobles” taking over the city. Vola learns that they are appropriating local culture to win their way into power, and of the traditions they are misusing one of the most heinous has been that of an ancient, discarded practice involving the summoning of demons called Tengu and various blood rituals.

On his rotation through the plaza’s storytellers, Krieg hears tales of these beings as well.

Meanwhile Damaia brings the strange ring she found in the Tulean buttes to a mage advertising readings, identifications, and sundries. This local performer, a crow aarakocra, puts on a show of prestidigitation over the ring before seeming to genuinely access a sort of poetic identification of the item, reciting in broken common a short verse suggesting the ring was used for healing of some sort.

The weasels being a dead end and other information providing much to think on, our adventurers look at the enormous staircase which they must now ascend and consider finding a place to store their bags and have a think.

Quagoon and Krieg lead the way through the city nearer to the noble quarter, where they identify a bathhouse inn. They are given a tour of the establishment and splurge on the full package, including a large shared room, two days of dinner service, and a tea ceremony and entertainment as well as access to the baths and the specialists there.

The rest of the afternoon is spent in luxurious relaxation as our adventurers immerse themselves in the hot mineral pools, are given massages, and soak in mud baths. After the tea service, they nap until dinner.

After dinner, feeling much revived, they are heading off to further investigate their leads when the concierge notifies them that they have received three letters.

The first of the letters is in an envelope of pearlescent paper fragranced with perfume. It is from a “Lady Kobayashi”, who offers to delight them as long as they are guests in the city.

The second is on fine, creamy paper with a perfectly stamped seal, and is from Lady Shinozaki, who suggests they may be able to be of benefit to each other.

The third is on thick cardstock with a grey seal, from Lord Honga. He warns them of traps and offers his assistance, should they require it.

Our adventurers ask the concierge about these, and of the three nobles the aarakockran employee has only heard of Lady Kobayashi by reputation: she lives in the largest palace in the city and throws lavish parties.

Lord Honga is first on the group’s list to visit, thinking it best to hear of these apparent traps before they fall into one. On their way into the noble quarter, they also keep an eye out for these Tengu - red-faced (or -masked) harpy-like beings allegedly employed by the new nobility.

They are directed to Honga Palace by a knife-sharpener, who also points out the roof of Kobayashi palace, visible above the tops of the nearest mansions. Lord Honga, they are told, lives in the Twelve Lakes district.

On the way there, a noble’s procession passes them by and our adventurers get their first look at these Tengu. The stoic looking individuals, with swords at their belts, walking before and behind the noble’s palanquin, are identified as wearing masks - just-visible straps holding the grimacing red visages upon the bodyguard’s heads, but the capering Tengu at the head of the procession, rattling a feathered instrument and leaping from side to side, does not give our adventurers a chance to identify its nature as person or demon. Either the mask is of better fit and quality, or its grotesque expression is the genuine grin of a summoned demon.

The procession passes, and soon the party arrives in the Twelve Lakes district, where canals and bodies of water sit within manicured embankments and retaining walls. The lakes themselves feature manors and palaces built upon the water itself, cobblestone foundations lapped by clear water now coloured by a sunset.

Honga Palace is pointed out to our crew and they head to its courtyard gate. After tugging the bellpull, they are greeted by a tall heron-aarakocra draped in a greyblue robe. They are invited in and placed in a comfortable waiting chamber while they are assured by the valet, who introduces himself as Tenten, that the lord will greet them personally within the hour.

As the time passes, our adventurers begin to wonder if they should be insulted, but when Lord Honga arrives - a stern looking elf with a manicured beard that suggests some non-elf blood - he smooths over their rough edges with a full apology and the explanation of pressing business.

Lord Honga is an amicable host, and answers all of our adventurers’ questions. They ask about the other nobles who sent them letters -

Lady Kobayashi, they learn, is unlikely to be involved in anything truly untoward. She has great influence in the city, but more or less what you see is what you get: she is a socialite to the point of excess. While she employs a few “Tengu” (Lord Honga strongly doubts there being any real demons in the city, though certainly some nobles are conducting very real blood ceremonies), it is simply for the image: if others are doing it, Lady Kobayashi will do it, too, and even more elaborately. Lord Honga does not suspect her of being one of the nobles to truly conduct bloody rituals for power.

Lady Shinozaki is a newer of the new nobles: she is living in the palace of a noble who left for less rife politics a decade or so ago. She is a bit of an enigma, but she has supported Lord Honga’s efforts to ban the Tengu revival and its bastardized ceremonies from the city. She has not, to Honga’s disappointment, accepted his invitation to tea and conversation. While she does not employ Tengu or engage in blood ritual, Lord Honga feels he must point out that she is a tielfing and is consequently impossible not to associate at least at some level with demonkind. Honga mentions that her palace is in the same district.

The party also asks after the noble whose procession they observed, and learns that Lord Shiraishi is a petty noble, a follower. For a time, he had been under Lord Honga’s tutelage, until he refused to reject the Tengu trend, at which point Lord Honga rejected his protege’s company.

- and Lord Honga is also asked about who might be the noble most likely to employ real Tengu and engage in elicit rituals. He tells them about Lord Shinonome, a noble who has in recent years gained an exorbitant amount of power and influence despite being neither as showy as Lady Kobayashi nor as outspoken in council as Lord Honga himself. Lord Honga warns our adventurers away from looking into this suspicious noble.

Our motley crew thanks Lord Honga for his advice and information and head back to their inn for the night.

#the hollow city #dnd #d&d #chapter 13

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captainkirkk · 3 years ago

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✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

A collection of fics I’ve read (/reread) and thoroughly enjoyed in the past week-ish from all kinds of fandoms and genres.

Danny Phantom

Tucker Foley's Top Secret AV Journal by redrobin1989

Or the super awesome ghost adventures of Danny Phantom

Tucker: Hey so welcome to The Journal, a complete record of the good, bad and the hilarious of Danny Phantom. This started out as my personal journal and ended up a collection on the ins and outs of Team Phantom. Sam and Danny think this record is pointless but I know that somehow, someday, the secret is going to come out. And when it does, I want people to know what we did, how hard we worked and what we had to sacrifice along the way.

ATLA

Saviors of the World: Where are they now? by ang3lba3, Mellomailbox

Wherein: Zuko is kidnapped for his own good, the Gaang minus Aang get extremely drunk, and Aang's statue is paid all due respect.

---

“This is very undignified,” Zuko says. It’s also difficult to breathe, the burlap course and heavy and hot where it’s rubbing against his mouth and nose. “Will you at least take the bag off?”

“He’s handling this better than I anticipated,” Katara remarks, and it has to be her that gently pats at his rear. He kicks out, missing.

“It’s the lack of choice, relaxes him,” Toph says casually. “Bottom.”

The Old Guard

The #ImmortalHusbands Conspiracy by Amiril, phoenixacid

@kathryyn2ys Okay you know how most of the statues on buildings in New York are all the same lady?? Well. I have found her Renaissance counterpart. Behold: whoever this guy was. He c l e a r l y got around

@amberjunnie bro one of those is by Michelangelo and the other is by Caravaggio, if it's the same dude then he didn't age at ALL in like 30-40 years.

@sewingoatmeal Reblog to support an immortal model, his muslim boyfriend, his asian girlfriend and her girlfriend.

(A Social Media Project)

TGCF

Sunshine in the Night by Dgcakes (ficsnfun)

Xie Lian accidentally accrues a debt to Ghost City. He must work to pay off this debt as the masked worker 'Sunshine'. Events take place that lead him to meeting and working with the mysterious Lord of the city and it just may bring them closer in the end.

Clone Wars

Full Disclosure by Trixree

It all comes down to this: the babies in his arms are just so little.

“You should sit down, Sir. Let Waxer and I take the tubies for a minute,” Cody gentles. Despite the even, easy tone, despite knowing that it’s Cody and that, as the last twenty-four hours have successfully proved beyond a doubt, Cody would rather die than see any harm come to him, Obi-Wan can’t suppress his immediate reaction to the thought of putting the twins— his twins, his now, and he’ll die before he lets anything touch them—down.

“Full disclosure, I don’t believe I am capable of letting go of them, at the moment.” He thinks for a beat and then adds, “Possibly ever.”

Creation Both Haunted and Holy by Trixree

“If I tell you this, you can’t tell anyone, okay?”

Sixty-Twenty knows from his ori’vod that you always keep a brother’s secrets for them, no matter what. “Of course,” he promises. “I swear.”

“When I say it’s loud, it’s not really sound. At least, not like talking. But... our bones sing. All of us... we sing."

|intricate rituals| by littlekaracan

Clones were not supposed to be susceptible to something as natural as the cold. Especially not to the point of physical injury, and especially not to the point of such injuries being visible to their commanding officers. Unfortunately, clones were far more human than the rest of the Galaxy liked to believe.

Cody has not yet had a single experience that would make him distrust his General. And, judging from the gentleness of Kenobi's hands on his, that wasn't going to change any time soon.

#come get y'all juice #weekly fic round up #my posts #fic recs #dp recs #sw recs #atla recs #tgcf recs #misc recs

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the-tiniest-one · 3 years ago

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Parenting Rock Lee with Might Guy :)

Note:@xemaliahrssx here ya go! I hope it tastes just like you dreamed it would!

Sitting at the kitchen table, watching Guy and Lee devour the dinner you made, had you feeling nostalgic... You watched with your head rested on your hand. It was the little family moments that you appreciated more than anything else these days. "Yeah! and then I caught him in a cross block!" Lee said, describing their latest mission, his mouth full of food.

"Haha yes yes (y/n) you should have been there, our Rock Lee is becoming a real force to be reckoned with, much like his handsome sensei" Guy said with a wink in your direction.

"Handsome indeed" you said with a grin.

Thinking back to the days when you were a little more of a workaholic made you laugh. If you told your younger-self all those years ago that you would be Konoha's worst helicopter parent in just a few years, you'd have never believed it. Guy was a perfect match for you in that regard. You two were a well oiled machine when it came to parenting.

While Lee could do no wrong in your eyes, Guy was a bit heavy handed in his discipline of Lee's skills as a shinobi. You kissed every bruise and scrape, while Guy was teaching him how to prevent them in the first place.

Rock Lee has had more than his fair share of the short-end-of-the- shit-stick his entire life. BUT One could be forgiven for not recognizing the true level of hardship the boy has overcome in his short tenure as a shinobi. Lee is a true underdog.

Lucky for him, you've always been a bit of a sucker for an underdog.

You thought back to those early days......

Even before Lee evolved to a mini version of your childhood crush, you felt the need to protect him. Watching him fumble and practice jutsu in vain day after day.....early in the morning and into the night. You would watch him from a distance while training your own team. One early morning, you decided to check in on the boy with long black hair. He kicked at a post, counting off as you looked on...10....11.....12.....his kicks were weak even for his young age. As he got closer to 50 he fell back, overwhelmed by the pain of repetitively beating his shins into the wood without chakra to safeguard his bones.

Clearly angry at his situation, the thought occurred to you that maybe he wasn't using chakra because he couldn't....the boy had tears streaming from his eyes. It broke your heart to watch a kid who couldn't be more than 10, cursing his life.

"A kid working that hard shouldn't have to feel that defeated..." you said to yourself.

You felt conflicted. Torn between wanting to step in and takeover his training...but feeling the weight of responsibility that would come with encouraging a child to chase a pipedream that would only lead to disappointment. You knew all too well what happens to weak ninja. The reality was that it would be cruel to encourage the boy to peruse a life as dangerous as that of a shinobi. You were no slouch when it came to taijutsu but ninjas are able to compete with one another because of the advantages that come with developing kakai genki.

Could a boy with no use of chakra stand a chance against the generations of those families of ninja who use fearsome jutsu and tactics like lightning...wind....wood or even hereditary gifts like the dreaded sharingan or byakugen? The real answer was sad and harsh. No. He couldn't.

You wouldn't be so irresponsible as to tell the boy he could be anything but a failure.

If he perused that path, he would die young.

So you stood back, restraining the desire to comfort and nurture the little boy out of what you told yourself was mercy. Day after day, week after week....you watched on....until it became too much. You couldn't sleep anymore, couldn't function on missions the same way. Always thinking back to him still out at those training grounds.....always struggling.

....

One morning it was pouring rain. You called off training that day for your team and headed out to the place you knew he would be. He was there of course. He was doing his best to catch a cold while practicing hand signs to no avail. After watching him for a few minutes you finally asked, "What's your name kid?" speaking loud to project over the rain. Startled he looked up to where you stood, perched on a post a few feat away. "I...Im Rock Lee" he said timidly. You laughed at his shy but sweet face, "Im y/n" you said.

"Your kicks look like they could use some work", holding your palm about chest high, to show him where his blow should be landing. The boy grimaced...clearly angry with his lack of direction in training. You laughed and the both of you worked on his kicks for the duration of the morning.

"I think you'll be a splendid ninja someday" you said as you offered him a bit of lunch you packed. The boy looked up at you with the most heartbreaking fear in his eyes, "I can't use chakra" Lee said barley above a whisper, clearly ashamed to tell you the truth.

You ruffled his hair. "Look kid, life is shitty sometimes. But I can tell you are someone who will never quit. No matter the odds, and that is something worth more than all the talent in the world." He instantly smiled up at you, melting your heart for what would be the first of a million times. Laughing and showing you also first time you saw that shiny smile that you would come to love more that anything on earth.

From then on he was your responsibility. Your chest burned with pride in his concrete determination. Feeling instantly the protective burn and feral instinct to insulate him from anything that would hurt him.

....

It was about a year later when things evolved. You and Lee had become close. He, being an orphan as you found out he was, had taken your invitation to live in your spare bedroom. It wasn't long before you were nagging him to be sure and eat breakfast before class, take baths every night. You were often hearing your mothers voice echo in your own as you guided the child to a structure he lacked.

You even went to his parent meetings at the Academy, much to the surprise of Iruka (because he himself was 2 years older than you and had known you since you were smol) laughed when you asked to see Lee's reports.

----

Then one hot summer day you got the order... your team was dispatched on your first extended mission with your new genin. 3 months on a C rank mission to Suna. Your heart sank as you remembered Lee's graduation exam was in just a few days. Before you left, you kissed his forehead and promised a tearful Lee who had become just as attached as you over the last year, that would bring him back a graduation present.

You just knew he would finally pass.

....

Returning to the village near midnight you couldn't wait to see Lee. After giving report to Lord Third, you quickly made your way home. Quietly cracking the door to his bedroom, you peaked in to see his sweet little face. The snoring boy looked peaceful.

"He cut his hair?" you thought puzzled..."he must have done it himself, it looks a little odd." You laughed at the thought of him using a bowl to cut his hair.

Then your eyes traveled to the headband still around his forehead, "He passed!!!" you quietly celebrated, careful not to wake him up. You placed the promised gift on his dresser, a brand-new set of num-chuks you'd had made in Suna.

The next morning you were up before sunrise making a celebratory breakfast when an extreme round of knocking came from the apartment's front door.

You quickly answered, immediately flustered when on the other side was none other than Might Guy....the same Guy you'd had the hots for over a decade.

"Y/N!, I must have the wrong address! I was looking for one of my students!" Guy said in his familiar boisterous cadence. Laughing nervously you started to respond, when behind you Lee pushed his way through the doorframe. Your eyes widened at the sight.

The haircut made sense now, Lee stood side by side with his sensei. He was wearing Guy's jumpsuit... they could have been father and son.

Looking at the two of them standing side by side in front of you for the first time gave you the most jarring sense of dejavu.

"Guy sensei! Look what Y/N brought me from her most dangerous mission!" Lee brandished the weapon, beaming up at his teacher who laughed and winked in your direction. "Ah, a great choice! Only the most skilled ninja know how to use such a fine weapon! We must enlighten you at once Lee my boy!" With that the handsome jonin and your sweet Rock Lee were off to train.

You had known Guy since he was still struggling to gain entrance to the Academy, you knew that the man who radiated confidence today, only earned that ability through blood, sweat, and tears.

You apprehensively accepted that Might Guy was a good match to be Lee's sensei.

"Be careful!" you called, more than a little apprehensive at the thought of your sweet baby boy training with such an admittedly impulsive man. Feeling a small tug of sadness as you watched the two of them disappear down the street.

"Lee's getting tall..." you though as you closed the door.

....

Over the next few years Lee had grown into a strong young man. You felt such extreme pride in everything he did. Even though you being in your mid-twenties were not nearly old enough to be Lee's mother, he had taken to occasionally calling you mom.

Lee was never embarrassed of you as he grew into a teen like some of the other kids his age. He was always just as willing to give you a hug before a mission as the day you met him.

It would be a lie to say that the relationship you and Guy shared hadn't also matured along the way. Although you weren't Lee's biological parents, anyone would be forgiven for thinking that you were. Everything you had admired about Guy, his hot-bloodedness, his devotion to youthful perseverance, his love of his village had been passed down to your surrogate son.

It was only natural that you and Guy would become a team in raising Rock Lee. Over time after a few years of dinners, training sessions, birthdays, holidays etc...Guy decided to propose to you.

It was a literal dream come true. You couldn't say yes fast enough. But as required when two shinobi become married, when you went to sign the paperwork to make your marriage official, requesting a stamp of approval from Lady Tsunade....she extended to you a folder with a second set of forms.

Guy beamed as you read the contents. Adoption papers with Lee's name printed at the top in bold.

"He will always be our son. Since we are making it official... why not add one more?" Guy said with a laugh. The tears began welling in your eyes. "He's 17" you laughed, "I love you" is all you could think to say in response to the most kind gesture you have ever witnessed.

Guy held his trademark thumbs up high as he replied, "Lee will always need his mom, no matter how big he gets!" His words like music to your heart...

You'd never felt so complete as you walked hand in hand with Guy, on your way home to surprise your sweet son with the news.

Upon telling Lee what the two of you had done, he looked from the papers back to you. Confusion spread across the sweet ravenette's features. "But I do not understand" Lee said with a hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Have you not always been my mom?"

The innocent look in his eye and profound sincerity in his voice made tears well in your eyes for what felt like the tenth time that day. You laughed and swept he and Guy into a hug that didn't last long enough. "What's for dinner?" the two men asked in unison and in that moment you knew you were the luckiest person in the world.

#rock lee #might guy x you #might guy relationship #naruto imagines #naruto #naruto fanfiction #might gai imagine #might guy fanfiction #rock lee fanfiction #parenting with maito #rock lee's mom #maito guy #rock lee imagines #rock lee x y/n #team gai

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agentrouka-blog · 3 years ago

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what do you think about obara?

Hi there!

Obara would be my third favorite Sand Snake after Sarella and Elia.

Obara Sand always walked too fast. She is chasing after something she can never catch, the prince had told his daughter once, in the captain's hearing. (AFFC, The Captain of Guards)

My goodness, what could it be?

Oh, right. Her mother. Her identity. Her sense of self.

She is the reason I can never ever truly like Oberyn.

“I am the whore's whelp, or had you forgotten?" (AFFC, The Captain of Guards)

No matter how heartbreaking Oberyn’s determination to get justice for Elia’s murder, I can never forgive him for this.

"The day my father came to claim me, my mother did not wish for me to go. 'She is a girl,' she said, 'and I do not think that she is yours. I had a thousand other men.' He tossed his spear at my feet and gave my mother the back of his hand across the face, so she began to weep. 'Girl or boy, we fight our battles,' he said, 'but the gods let us choose our weapons.' He pointed to the spear, then to my mother's tears, and I picked up the spear. 'I told you she was mine,' my father said, and took me. My mother drank herself to death within the year. They say that she was weeping as she died." Obara edged closer to the prince in his chair. "Let me use the spear; I ask no more."

(AFFC, The Captain of Guards)

Oberyn not only suddenly came to take her away from her mother. He did not come to offer her a “better life”, or do his duty to her as her father.

He made her choose.

He demonstrated an absolutely despicable abuse of power. He shows up out of the blue after presumably no contact and no support, assaults and humiliates her mother, a woman already on the very edge of society, and then makes Obara choose between this distorted image of victimized weakness, and his own power. Female tears vs. his phallic symbol. It’s a false dichotomy, the birth place of “not like other girls”, of internalized misogyny, of self-hatred.

She cannot have both. She cannot love both. She must disdain one to reap any benefit from the other. It is a horrifying violation. He erases half of her identity by dragging it through the dirt and creating a clear distinction between himself and his offer, and the woman who has been Obara’s caretaker all her life up to then. Her own mother. Her own sex.

We know that the young red-haired prostitute died trying to save her daughter, little Barra, while Robert had not lifted a finger to support them, and only had scorn for the girl’s choice of name. Was she weak?

Even her mother’s grief and desperate end is turned into a weapon against Obara, instead of proof of her mother’s love, it is proof of her mother’s supposed worthlessness. She must hate her mother because to stop would be to recognize that her father, her sole source of security in the world, was a monster to do this. She must cling to this phallic symbol of a weapon because Oberyn tainted all alternatives. The whore’s whelp she calls herself, spitting on her mother every time.

When she arrives at Sunspear to confront Doran about Oberyn’s death, she asks for troops and permission to sack Oldtown. Her hometown. For the wealth of the Hightowers, supposedly, but somehow her first instinct upon the news of her father’s demise is to attack the place she herself came from, her mother’s city. Begging to use the spear.

Perhaps it is the only way she knows how to express her pain, as Oberyn stole her tears. Self-destruction.

Even Nymeria understands there is a personal motive outside of Oberyn’s death.

“Obara would have me go to war.”

Nym laughed. “Yes, she wants to set the torch to Oldtown. She hates that city as much as our little sister loves it.” (AFFC, The Captain of Guards)

Obara is the only one of the elder Sand Snakes for whom GRRM constructs this kind of look back at her "acquisition" into the royal family, and I sincerely doubt that it is accidental. It is the one that matters, the one that is the most illustrative.

Nymeria has her noble Volantene mother’s beauty and bearing.

Tyene is said to carry her mother’s innocent appearance, and received a religious education at least thorough enough to enable her to “ingratiate herself” with the new high septon. It is, of course, a cynical facade.

Sarella proudly practices the marksmanship of the Summer Islanders of her mother’s heritage.

But Elia and Obara both show the real cracks that counter this hazy facade of the fierce Eight Sand Snakes, liberal Oberyn‘s loyal and independent daughters. They are all an extravagant self-indulgence on Oberyn’s part, created wherever he went and then picked up like a shiny tourist trinket. They all must revolve around him, the reflections of Oberyn in the looking glass of their mothers.

No," Elia broke in. "You're the one they'll want to ransom. You're the heir to Dorne, I'm just a bastard girl. Your father would give a chest of gold for you. My father's dead." (TWOW, Arianne II)

Elia, bless her, has her mother to lean on and still she keenly feels the legal reality of her position. Obara does not even have that.

Sarella out of all the elder Sand Snakes, seems to be the most emotionally independent. She is the only one NOT around all the others in Dorne, and while she follows her father’s footsteps in Oldtown, she practices her mother‘s traditional archery and emphasizes her.

Alleras smiled back at him. "I only buy for friends. And I am no lord's son, I've told you that. My mother was a trader." (AFFC, Prologue)

This healthier balance, this valuing regard for her mother’s heritage (unlike Tyene's pretense) is what makes Sarella truly remarkable to me. She is not hot-headed nor does she seem to be boiling with a thinly veiled fury. She does not seem to advocate for murder, but we see her muse about feeding the people. She is serene, like the black swans on the Godseye, like the swanships, with a steady hand and a sure intention. Whatever exactly that intention may be. Ironically, sexism forces Sarella into a masculine role, as well. But it is a deliberate mask, elegantly worn. Freely worn. Unlike Obara's struggle.

The character in whom I see most parallels with Obara Sand is Jon Snow in his current iteration.

Ned, well-meaning though he may have been, robbed Jon of half of his identity and left him with an image that is considered tainted by the world around him. His mother is as inaccassible as Obara’s mother, emotionally, though for different reasons. Their father’s choices left both of them emotionally crippled to a degree. One mother was erased by silence, rendered invisible. The other, worse, was erased by violent and verbal degradation.

Consequently, it is Obara we see the most seemingly “unhinged”, when she is introduced, the most overtly violent, the most “unfeminine”. This is not an expression of personal taste, nor a handy mask. It is a grim adherence to the choice she was offered.

She is almost thirty, and came to Dorne almost two decades earlier, well before Elia’s murder.

"It has been twenty years, or near enough to make no matter.” (AFFC, The Captain of Guards)

She was somewhere between Sansa’s and Arya’s current age when Elia was killed. Does she perceive the contradiction in Oberyn living for vengeance for Elia, when he treated her own mother not so very very differently? He did not kill her truly, but he erased her just the same, with a violent contempt. A "weak woman", with only tears for weapons, her child ripped from her.

If Obara sees it, she is not letting on. She craves violence. She craves an expression of power to put something where tears might have their place. The way she was taught.

Of course, it would be boring if that is where it was truly headed. Much like Aegon and Jon, much also like Asha Greyjoy who adapted to an extremely male-dominated society, Obara would probably benefit from turning away from her father's looming shadow to a certain degree. I have some hope that GRRM will make room to explore it.

Obara is given a quest of justice and distraction: Darkstar. "Beard him in his den", as Arianne travels to "beard the dragon".

Your Speculation here (by @sayruq) is extremely interesting, placing Obara in the line of defense of peaceful children at the watergardens. The same children she had dismissed earlier, like the child she was not allowed to be. Wielding that spear not for vengeance or self-glorification but in the way it should be wielded: to defend those soft weak things that are precious.

I really hope this is where it's headed, and I really hope she will find her peace in that role.

#obara sand #anti oberyn martell #sexism #violence #sand snakes

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rafivadafreddy · 4 years ago

Text

Kissing Secrets

A fivr part story about our favorite ADA Rafael Barba and his FBI gf.

Summary: What happens when the SVU squad meets Rafaels’ girlfriend, but under not so great circumstances?

Word Count: 2,373 Warnings: Cursing, angry couple, Spanish, angst, talk of rape and drug case.

Dating never came easy to Rafael Barba. But when he found someone with a job as hectic as him. It was perfect. Neither expected much from the other, when one had to cancel the other would understand.

Of course, Y/N would be more than understanding. She had two bachelor degrees under her belt and after long days and nights with the 20 weeks of New Agent Training with the FBI at Quantico. She, just like Rafael, worked hard to get where she was. Trying to make a name for herself. Starting at twenty-five and becoming a special agent before her twentieth eight birthday, Y/N knew she would make it.

Y/N and Rafael met when she was looking for a job, needing to complete two years of work experience to become a special agent. Working as a rookie cop in a district in Brooklyn. Well, one night an angry cuban man walks into the precinct. His fancy three piece suit was a mess and he claims he was assaulted. Knife wound to his arm, Y/N was the cop to take care of him.

One thing led to another, Rafael left the precinct with a smile. Having left his number behind for the cop. To ‘call’ if she had any questions about his assault. Of course, Y/N was able to find the guy who assaulted the ADA and was able to get his phone back from the man.

Almost three years passed and they were still happy with the other. Dinners, nights in and a couple who were in love with the other. Y/N met his mother and his abuelita, things were perfect. So, when Y/N graduated, celebrating the fact that she made it through the FBI academy. Thankfully, Y/N was able to stay at the federal bureau of investigation in New York City.

»---------------------►

A few months into her new job, Y/N felt as if she was on a high. It was her biggest case yet and it was hers… well, her’s along with her partner, Agent Shawn Carter. Having been staying overtime the past month, getting together evidence and witnesses to take down an organized sex trafficing crime involving a drug lord that’s on their most wanted list, Y/N wasn’t about to let anything get in the way of her bringing every last one of them down. Especially when the last victim she was notified of was a thirteen year old.

“Hola mi amor…” Y/N smiled at the call of her boyfriend. Rafael had been her rock the past few years as Y/N worked on getting into the FBI.

“Hola mi corazón…” she heard him chuckle into the phone. “Dinner tonight? Think you can make it?”

Glancing at her watch, Y/N thought about it. “I think so yeah. We’re going to pick up a perp right now and if it all works out. I’ll be able to spend all night with you.” She told him and sighed. “I’m sorry for being super busy lately.”

“Hey, none of that. I understand. It 's your job. My girlfriend, the badass FBI agent.” the two laughed and Y/N smiled.

“My boyfriend, the hot shot ADA. I’ll get out early to have dinner with you. No matter what, you’ll come first tonight.” She told him, noticing they were nearing Manhattan.

“Now, now… You know you always come first when we’re together.” Y/N could hear the smirk as he spoke and she just laughed.

Saying goodbye with many ‘i love you’s’ Y/N put her phone away and sighed, the smile feeling permanent on her lips.

Ten minutes later, the black car pulled up outside the Special Victims Unit of the 16th precinct. Both Y/N and Shawn looked at one another before nodding. It wasn’t going to be fair and it wasn’t like they knew. But the SVU team had picked up a perp they had been watching and started an investigation on him. Something Y/N couldn’t let happen. No this was her case.

Walking into the building and getting directions to the SVU floor, Y/N walked with her head held high. The skinny jeans she wore, along with the blue button down shirt. She made sure to have her badge clipped to her pants. Gun in its holder and ID already out in her hand.

“Can I help you, agent?” a woman asked, making Y/N turn to look at a blonde who walked over. That caught the other detectives attention.

They were already wondering why the FBI was there.

“As a matter of fact you can. I’m special agent Y/N L/N and this is my partner, Agent Shawn Carter. I’m afraid I’m here to collect the perp you have in custody along with everything you have against him.” she told the women, except her eyes were on a brunette woman. Whom Y/N knew was in charge. She did her research before storming into the precinct this way.

“Why should we do that? This is our case, don’t see why the Feds want a low life like him.” another detective spoke up and Y/N looked over at him. From his voice and stance, it was obvious he was angry.

“Calm down, Amaro.” the brunette finally spoke up. “Olivia Benson.” she introduced herself and Y/N shook her hand. “Now, you say you need this guy. Why? From what we’ve gathered, he’s just a scum who likes underage girls.”

With a sigh, Y/N nodded. But she didn’t say anything when a familiar voice spoke up. “What’s going on here?”

“Ah! Barba, you’re going to love this.” The Amaro fellow looked amused. “The FBI is here to take our case.”

“Oh yeah? On what grounds?” Barba asked.

“On the grounds that he’s a suspect in an ongoing Federal case.” Y/N said, turning to look at the man she just told she loved, not even half an hour ago. “Miguel Hernández raped and murdered a thirteen year old girl three days ago. And I know you guys picked him up cause he was caught in the act of raping another victim. Now imagine my surprise when I found out that SVU caught him. Even though notice went out to contact the FBI if Mr. Hernández is picked up by officers or detectives of New York.” she spoke, informing all of them, even though her eyes stayed on Rafael.

“He also has information about Lorenzo Torsney.” Shawn spoke up for the first time.

“Wait, Torsney, the guy linked to the sex trafficking ring with the underage girls? The same Lorenzo who’s rumored to be the new Drug lord of New York?” some guy spoke up, his thick accent catching Y/Ns attention.

“That’s the one.” Both agents spoke at the same time. “So, Lieutenant. The case files and Miguel if you please.” Shawn said and followed Bensen into her office to grab the paperwork to make the transfer.

Y/N on the other hand went to look at the window that showed into the interrogation room. Hearing footsteps, Y/N smiled at the male and nodded to the detective seeing the coffee he got her. “Thanks…”

“Ah, Dominick Carisi, Jr. but everyone calls me Sonny.” the thick accent said and Y/N raised an eyebrow.

“I get the feeling, no one calls you, Sonny… Sonny.” she smirked and looked at Miguel again.

Thankfully he got quiet after that. Though what Y/N failed to notice was Rafael standing in the doorway. “Excuse us, Carisi.” he said, in his ‘this is my mad, but trying to stay professional” voice.

Sonny couldn't get out of the room faster, not that Y/N blamed him. She would have ran as well.

"You couldn't have told me on the phone that you were coming to pick up the guy from my case?" Rafael whispered, looking real mad.

Yet, Y/N just rolled her eyes. "Tu caso? Last I heard, you were still working in fucking Brooklyn! Que diablos, Rafael!" She hissed at her boyfriend. "You changed fucking districts and never told me?"

"Oh, that's rich. Coming from the one always canceling our dates!"

"¡Vete a la mierda!" Y/N narrowed her eyes. "Who canceled the last THREE dinners? Wasn't me, that's for fucking sure." She scoffed and pushed past him.

"Real professional Detectives.." Y/N rolled her eyes at the SVU team all scrambling back to their desks. Pretending like they wern’t eavesdropping on Y/N and Rafael.

"Y/N, vuelve aquí, ahora."

Only, Y/N ignored him. Pulling out her phone, she had to put in a call for another agent to come out to the district and collect Miguel. All while ignoring Rafael. Who was trying to glare her into submission.

'Good luck, papi. Not gonna work now.' Y/N thought and looked away from the detectives. Answering emails and texts on her phone. Already getting a location of where Shawn and her needed to go after leaving SVU.

»»---------------------►

As Miguel was getting put into cuffs, both around his wrists and ankles. Y/N watched, making sure nothing would go wrong. Turning to the detectives, she gave them a sad smile.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t let you guys have this case.” she told them, sounding sincere. “If he wasn’t important to catching Torsney, I would have let you keep the case.” she added, thanking Shawn as he handed Y/N her FBI jacket.

Hearing two different scoffs, but from two cuben men. Y/N rolled her eyes and shook Olivia’s hand. “It’s fine, at least you’re getting him off the streets… and something tells me, you interrogating him will make what we did look like preschoolers.” she smirked and Y/N shrugged.

“Let’s just say, the cameras are not on all the time.” Shawn spoke up and Y/N shook her head.

“Yes they are, thank you for giving me a heads up to watch all the interrogations you do from now on.” she narrowed her eyes and told him to go wait in the car. Saying goodbye, Y/N turned and made her way out.

Getting into the car, Y/N rubbed a hand over her face and told Shawn they were needed over in the Bronx.

“So… that was your boyfriend. Huh?” the male next to her spoke up after a few minutes of silence in the car.

Of course, with her telling him to shut up the car ride continued on quietly.

Hearing her phone let out a ping Y/N grabbed it and read the text from Rafael.

Papi: So, I guess we need to talk later.

Y/N: Yeah, I’ll tell you when I get off. Don’t know when that’ll be. There was a bomb over in the South Bronx. Was put on the case to deal with it.

Keeping the reply simple. Wanting Rafael to know she was mad at him. Not even replying to his ‘stay safe’ and not cause she didn’t want to. But because they had arrived and the scene they saw. It was a complete mess.

News crews were filming everything happening, people being put into ambulances and being taken care of.

“OK! What do we know?” Y/N asked, tying her H/C hair up into a ponytail.

As they were getting information, Y/N looked around. Not knowing cameras were pointed towards both her and her partner.

Turning to the officer telling them what had happened, Y/N frowned. “What time was the explosion? Exactly.” she asked and Y/N felt like she paled when being told it had been Nine minutes.

“We need every emergency vehicle headed here stopped outside the perimeter, and evacuate the building.” she commanded and stopped when the Battalion Chief spoke up.

“I got half a dozen guys inside checking structural damage, twice that many going door-to-door --”

Y/N just cut him off. “Have them grab anyone they see, and get out. Now.” her confidence leaves no doubt and the man nods. Talking to everyone he can and getting as many people out as possible.

With Shawn helping out on the other side, also helping people move away from the building the explosion went off in. It left Y/N to run after a woman who was running towards the apartment building. Crying about how she wanted her son's body

Y/N was able to get her away, but when the second explosion hit, both her and the woman were flown forward. Y/N being knocked out.

Rafaels’ POV:

He was getting shit for not saying anything to the team about his FBI girlfriend. Not like he knew if they were even going to be that later on when they talk. But still, he sat there and let them poke and joke around. The team had gotten takeout and were relaxing since there were no other cases. Rafael deciding to join them (not like they gave him much of a choice in the matter)

“Hey, Barba… didn’t you say Y/N was out in the South Bronx?” Rollins asked, causing Rafael to turn away from Liv and look at the blonde detective.

Moving his head to see what she was looking at, Rafael felt a chill in his stomach as he watched the News on the TV. They were covering the story of what was happening.

The team were all quiet listening to the man speak, the camera moving to where Y/N stood with her partner. Rafael watched as she took charge of the situation, he felt proud of her. But he had a nagging feeling, seeing everyone move quickly at whatever command she gave.

“By the looks, Agent Y/N L/N of the FBI gave orders to evacuate the building. Will there be another explosion, how does she know to get everyone out of the building? Whatever it is, everyone seems to be listening….” but Rafael turned the man's voice out.

In the background he could see Y/N running towards the woman and he shot up out of his seat when the second explosion happened. Cutting short the camera. No one was moving or saying anything as they just watched Rafael, who looked on the verge of a panic attack.

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart

#rafael barba #Raul Esparza #Raúl Esparza #rafael barba fanfiction #rafael barba fanfic #rafael barba fic #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x female reader #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x oc #rafael barba x fbi reader #law and order svu #svu

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lailoken · 3 years ago

Text

‘Dark and Demon Dogs’

“Haunting the coastline from the Wash to the Deben and beyond, and inland along the Peddars Way into the Brecklands, on marshland roads and mudflats, through the Fens and into the Broads, pads the ancient terror known as Black Shuck. For many hundreds of years the legend of the ghostly black hound has been kept alive and is probably the best known of all East Anglian spectres, still appearing to people today. He is typically seen as a huge, great, black shaggy hound, with blazing red eyes and dragging rattling chains behind him, instilling terror into all he comes upon and considered a portent of impending death or doom by most. Although generally called Black Shuck, he is known by many other names too; the Galleytrot, Old Scarfe, Owd Rugman, Shug Monkey and the Hateful Thing being some, although some form of Shuck or Shuggy is most common. Nor is he always a large black hound, appearing as anything from the size of a Labrador (shrinking into a cat!), a white rabbit in Thetford, to a calf or a donkey and even a monkey on a few occasions. Sometimes he was invisible, only his fierce breath, padding feet, fearful howls or the clanking of his chains giving evidence of his presence. Sometimes he could be seen without his head, but always with his glowing eyes appearing in the middle of where his head should be. One tale from Garveston in Norfolk goes;

‘They du speak of a dog that walks regular. They call him Skeff and his eyes are as big as saucers and blaze wi' fire. He is fair as big as a small wee pony and his coat is all skeffy-like, shaggy coat across, like an old sheep. He has a lane, and a place out of which he come, and he vanish when be bev gone far enough.’

Another informant from the village of Clopton, Suffolk, reported, 'a thing with two saucer eyes', on the road to Woolpit. It would not move out of his way but grew larger and larger as it breathed: 'I shall want you within a week'. The man died the next day.

One Christmas day in the middle of the 19th. Century, Black Shuck pushed against a small, blind boy who was standing on Thetford Bridge with his older sister. The little boy plaintively asked his sister to send the big dog away, but his sister assured him that there was no dog anywhere near them. However, the terrified boy insisted that there was, and that it was trying to push him into the water to drown him. The sister then felt the poor boy being carried away from her; she realised then that what he could feel, and she could not see, must be the terrible Black Shuck that she had heard so much about. Just as her little brother was about to be pushed into the water, she dragged him back from the edge and, hand- in-hand, they rushed off back to their waiting parents at home.

Villagers in the Waveney Valley round about Geldeston call it the ‘Hateful Thing', or the 'Churchyard or Hell-beast'. One old village woman claimed that she saw it one night on the road between Gillingham and Geldeston. She tells the story in the following words;

'It was after I bad been promised to Josh that I saw the Hateful Thing. We met Mrs S. and she started to walk with us. I beard something like a dog running pit-pat-pit- pat-pit-pat. "I wonder what that dog wants", I said to Mrs S. I was walking between Josh and Mrs S. and I lay hold on Mrs S's. arm and she say "It's in front of us; look, there it be." Just in front was what looked like a big, black dog; but it wasn't a dog at all; it was the Hateful Thing and it betokened some great misfortune. It kept on until we came to the churchyard, when it went right through the wall and we saw it no more'.

In Norfolk, Neatishead Lane, near Barton Broad, is a favourite walk of Shuck, as is the cliff path from Beeston, near Sheringham to Overstrand. This recalls the old adjuration in the legend of St. Margaret;

‘Still be though still,

Poorest of all, stern one,

Nor shalt thou, Old Shuck,

Moot with me no more.

But fly, sorrowful thing,

Out of mine eyesight,

And dive thither where thou man

May damage no more.’

A more humorous tale involves the grounding of Noah's Ark on Mulbarton Common, south of Norwich. Scoffers had better not go to Mulbarton. When one village elder was heckled on the point, he replied with some heat;

‘Thass trew! Trew as I stand bere. Where else could it ba' grounded? Aren't this the highest bit o' ground for miles around? When Ole Nick see the Ark be got inter a poont (punt), an' curled his tail up under the thwart and come rowin' around jest as Noah had opened the winder to let the dove in. And Nick sings out: "Mornin' Cap'n Noah. Nice mornin'arter the rain". But ole Noah he sees Nick's tail a-curled up under the thwart an' be sings out: “I know you. You're Owd Shuck! You goo to Hell". And bangs the winder down'.

However, perhaps the most famous accounts of the legend are to be found in Holinshed's Chronicle', an ambitious history of England which was updated to include contemporary events, and a pamphlet entitled A Straunge and Terrible Wunder' written by the Rev. Abraham Fleming, Rector of St. Pancras Church. Both accounts were published in 1577, shortly after the events recorded therein. According to Holinshed's Chronicle;

‘On Sundaie the fourth of August (1577), belween the houres of none and ten of the clocke in the forenone whilest the minister was reading the second lesson in the Parish church of Bliborough (Blythburgh), a towne in Suffolke, a strange and terrible tempest of lightening and thunder strake through the wall of the same church into the ground almost a yard deepe, drave downe all the people on that side above twentie persons, then venting the wall up to the venstre, cleft the doore, and returning to the steeple, rent the timber, brake the chimes, and fled towards Bongie (Bungay), a towne six miles off. The people that were stricken downe were found groueling more than balfe an boure after.......". At Bungay the storm "wroong in sunder the wiers and wheels of the clocks, slue two men which sat in the belfrie, when the other were at the procession or suffrages and scorched an other which hardlie escaped.'

However, Fleming gives the account as starting in Bungay church and includes the infamous Black Shuck;

‘Sunday, being the fourth of this August, in ye yeer of our Lord 1577, to the amazing and singular astonishment of the present bebolders, and abhsent bearers, at a certain towne called Bungay, not past tenne miles distant from the citie of Norwiche, there fell from heaven an exceeding great and terrible tempest sodein and violent..... There were assembled at the same season, to hear divine service and common prayer, according to order, in the parish church (St. Mary's) of the said towne of Bungay, the people thereabouts inhabiting, who were witnesses of the straungeness, the rarenesse and sodenesse of the storm, consisting of rain violently falling, fearful flashes of lightning and terrible cracks of thunder, which came with such unwonted force and power, that to the perceiving of the people...the church did as it were quake and stagger, which struck into the hearts of those that were present, such a sore and sodain feare, that they were in a manner robbed of their right wits.

Immediately hereupon, there appeared in a most horrible similitude and likenesse to the congregation then and there present, a dog as they might discern it, of a black colour; at the sight whereof, together with the feareful flashes of fire which then were seene, moved such admiration in the minds of the assemblie that they thought doomes day was already come.

This black dog, or the divel in such a likenesse (God he knoweth al who worketh all), running all along down the body of the church with great swiftnesse, and incredible haste, among the people, in a visible fourm and shape, passed between two persons, as they were kneeling upon their knees, and occupied in prayer as it seemed, wrung the necks of them bothe in one instant clene backward, in somuch that even at a moment where they kneeled, they strangely died.'

After reflecting somewhat on the wrath of God, he continues;

‘There was at ye same time another wonder wrought; for the same black dog, still continuing and remaining in one and the selfsame shape, passing by another man of the congregation in the church, gave bim such a gripe on the back, that therewith all he was presently withdrawen together and strunk up, as it were a piece of lither scorched in a hot fire; or as the mouth of a purse or bag, drawen together with a string. The man albeit he was in so straunge a taking, dyed not, but as it is thonght is yet alive; whiche thing is mervalous in the eyes of men, und offereth much matter of amasing the minde.

Meanwhile, the Clerk of the church, who had gone outside to clean the guttering, was thrown to the ground during a violent clap of thunder; and at the same time, the wires and wheels of the church clock were 'wrung in sunder and broken in pieces.' Inside the church, the Curate exhorted to prayer and 'comforted the people' until the frightening manifestation of the black hound had passed away, leaving behind it marks on the stones and church door 'which are marvellously renten and torne, ye marks as it were of his clawes or talans.'

According to Fleming, next, on the same morning, in the church of Blythburgh, about twelve miles from Bungay;

'the like thing entred, in the same shape and similitude, where, placing himself upon a maine balke or beum, whereon same ye Rood did stand, sodainly he gave a swinge downe throngh ye church, and there also, as before, slew two men and a lad & burned the hand of another person that was there amang the rest of the company, of whom divers wus blustled. This mischief thus wrought, he flew with wonderful force to no litule feare of the assembly, out of the church in a hideons and bellish likeness.'

The marks of his talons, burned into the inside of the north door of the church, can still be seen today.

Interestingly, archaeologists have recently discovered the skeleton of a massive dog that would have stood 7 feet tall on its hind legs, in the ruins of Leiston Abbey in Suffolk, close to both Bungay and Blythburgh. The remains of the massive dog, which is estimated to have weighed 200 pounds, were found just a few miles from the two churches where Black Shuck killed the worshippers. It appears to have been buried in a shallow grave at precisely the same time as Shuck is said to have been on the loose in this instance.

Coming forward in time, there is a legend of a black dog too, at Blickling Hall, Norfolk. In the 19th century, alterations on the Hall were being made by Lord and Lady Lothian, by the demolition of some partitions in order to form a dining-room;

‘I wish these young people would not pull down the partitions', said an old woman in the village to the local clergyman. Why so?' 'Oh, because of the dog. Don't you know that when A. was fishing in the lake, he caught an enormous fish and that, when it was landed, a great black dog came out of its mouth? They never could get rid of that dog, who kept going round and round in circles inside the house, till they sent for a wise man from London, who opposed the straight lines of the partitions to the lines of the circles and so quieted the dog. But if these young people pull down the partitions, they will let the dog loose again, and there's not a wise man in all London could lay that dog now'.’

This tale is interesting in that it links the occurrence or appearance of the hound with a practical knowledge of geomantic function and is the only tale told of its kind, as far as I am aware. It also links the Black Dog with the liminal area of the lake, which, as we have seen earlier in the chapter, is a gateway to the Other/Underworlds, guarded by supernatural beings; it is possible that the Black Dog may be another one of these guardian entities.

The common name for the black hound, Shuck, is generally considered to derive from the Old English scucca or sceocca, which means a devil/the Devil, a demon or a goblin (the 'sc' in OE being pronounced as 'sh'). There is also the likelihood that it comes from the East Anglian dialect word 'Shucky', meaning shaggy or hairy, a marked characteristic of most descriptions of the Hound. The first known use of the term comes from the Norfolk Chronicle or Gazette, in 1805, in an account by the Rev. E.S. Taylor of Martham as follows;

‘Shuck the Dog-fiend: This phantom I have heard many persons in East Norfolk, and even Cambridgeshire, describe as having seen as a black shaggy dog, with fiery eyes, and of immense size, and who visits churchyards at midnight.’

However, the term was obviously already in use beforehand, but for how long beforehand, no one knows. In regards to the appearance of the phantom in, at or near to churchyards and graveyards, there is another old tradition that is worth noting here. It was customry in years gone by, to bury a black dog in any new graveyard, before any other burials took place. The dog was intended to act as a guardian for the dead who were laid to rest there, and to protect the entrance to the Otherworld, ensuring that none came out – or went in – that were not supposed to. This practice goes back many millennia and is still rumoured to continue today in some areas; the dog is said to be buried in the North, or North-East of the graveyard, the traditional direction of the Dead and the Underworld.

Attempts to explain the origins and nature of the Black Hound have been many, some prosaic and some fantastical. He is said to be the memory of one of Odin's battle hounds, brought over by the Viking raiders in the 9th century. Whilst this may sound appealing, Odin did not have any war or battle hounds, but was accompanied by two wolves, a description never applied to Shuck. It is possible that he is the remains of a 'fetch beast', conjured by the Norse shamans to clear the pathways for their invasions, but there is no remaining evidence for this, however attractive; but the pathways theme is pertinent and I will come back to that in a moment. In the Anglo- Saxon classic, 'Beowulf', previously referred to in the case of Grendel's Dam and the Merewives, the monster Grendel himself is termed a 'scucca' and referred to as master of the fens and moors, some of the very places said to be haunted by Black Shuck in more modern times. He is also linked in popular imagination with the Devil and witchcraft, considered to be the Devil in animal form. Whilst there are recorded cases of the Devil appearing in dog or hound form in Suffolk, the descriptions of Shuck's appearances does not seem to fit any of these. He is often linked with Churches and graveyards, as we have seen, as well as crossroads, being described as coming from, passing over or into, or finishing his perambulations at one or the other; this also links in with the fact that the most recorded instances of sightings/encounters of the hound are on paths, roads, trackways, etc. as mentioned above.

It is these latter aspects of the Black Hound that I think give us the biggest clue to his nature and function; this is either as a guardian of the 'ghost roads' - the energetic and spectral pathways across the Land that guide the spirits of the dead on their way, or lead the spirits of living witches and magical practitioners to locations of power or gatherings of their kind or as a 'psychopomp', guiding the deceased on their last journeys to the Otherworld. It has often been remarked that Black Shuck is nearly always seen walking/padding along or beside a path or trackway and that his presence either heralds or initiates a death or near death experience (sometimes also averting disaster if it is not the person's time to die). It seems highly likely that this Hound is a product of the Living Landscape, given form and function, and imbued with the energy to guard/ guide those souls in need over the liminal point between life and death that we all must pass at some point. That he is given such a form by tradition and local culture only goes to show a living tradition stretching back hundreds, if not thousands, of years, as dogs and hounds have been seen as guardians of the gates of the Underworld for millennia, particularly and especially by the succeeding cultures that have inhabited East Anglia and the rest of these Isles. That he is feared, seen as a/the Devil, shunned and reviled, is only indicative of the lack of understanding of most people of the natural Laws and Ways of the Land and their separation from them.”

—

The Devil’s Plantation:

East Anglian Lore, Witchcraft & Folk-Magic

Chapter 2: ‘Mermaids, Giants and Spectral Hounds’

by Nigel G. Pearson

#the Devil’s Plantation #nigel g. pearson #East Anglian folklore #British folklore #Celtic folklore #spectral hounds #black dogs #black shuck

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allegra-writes · 4 years ago

Text

“Heartfelt”

Bar musician! Harry styles x Bartender!Reader

General audiences

Warnings: None

Just some Valentine's day fluff with our favorite green eyed boy. Dedicated to @gaycinnamonrollgirl for giving me the idea, and @tomsrebeleyebrow for patiently listening to me endlessly gush about Harry Styles and still being my friend. Happy belated Valentine's day 💖

"You don't have to say you love me

I just wanna tell you somethin'

Lately you've been on my mind..."

Adore you - Harry Styles

...Oh, she looks so good, oh, she looks so fine

And I got this crazy feeling that I'm gonna ah-ah…

"Bartender, my good friend! I'll have my usual and a plate of your finest chips, if you would be so kind"

It was closing time when Harry, the local musician, sat in front of you, elbows on the bar you were wiping down while humming to Patti Smith's "Gloria".

You raised an eyebrow at him, but the willowy man could see the slight tremble at the corner of your lips, a tell that you were suppressing a smile.

"I'm afraid the kitchen is closed, mister Styles. Sam left an hour ago."

"Yes yes, but I have it from a very good source he left you a big pile of leftover chips before he did," He accused, "you know, as he does every night..."

You frowned in confusion,

"I thought you hated cold fries. That you found them to be, and I quote, soggy and disgusting"

"I guess you can say I acquired a taste for them" He shrugged, mischievous green eyes sparkling, "Just like you did for this lowlife songwriter in front of you and the heartfelt conversations you share with him"

"Did you now?" There was an edge of scepticism in your voice, but you were already disappearing inside the kitchen.

Harry's heart did a little jump as you didn't immediately deny liking him.

"Hey, Joe" he called out, "why don't you go home? I'll help Y/N close when we're done…"

There was a deaf noise as a young waiter, the only person left in the bar beside the two of you, set the last chair on top of a table.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I got this" he reassured him, "did it dozens of times. Go home to your girl"

"Thanks, mate!" The second brit practically skipped on his way to the backroom, but turned around just before reaching the door. "Listen, you know I like you, but if you hurt y/n in any way…"

Harry smiled, genuinely. He could never get mad at anyone that protective of you.

"You know where I live. Pick my sister on the way, though. I think she would like to join you."

Joe rolled his baby blues,

"I know you're not a creep. I meant her heart"

"Yeah, me too…"

Whatever your friend saw inside Harry's eyes was enough to convince him. He nodded and left, as the musician got up to lock the front door and turn the "open" sign off.

If you noticed Joe's absence at your return, you didn't comment on it, simply setting the giant pile of chips and two cans of cherry cola you were carrying, down in front of Harry, who had returned to his seat.

"Ah, you always have the good stuff!" the sigh that left his lips as he took the first sip of the soda was not unlike the one any of your regulars made after the first taste of something strong after a hard day.

"Rough night?"

"Kind of. Good show though, so at least I have that going on for me…"

"It really was, I'm actually impressed" You had to confess, "And surprised too, it was a bold choice going acoustic on a night like this, with such a big audience," So many people had gathered to see the show that the bouncer had to start rejecting people so you wouldn't have trouble with the fire department "but it definitely worked"

There was a slight blush on the singer's cheeks when he replied, far more humble than you were used to,

"Well, you know, Valentine's day and all that. The band, all have boyfriends and girls they wanted to spend the evening with…"

You tilted your head,

"And you didn't?" It was hard to believe, when almost every night he played there you would see him leave with a different, always sculptural, painfully perfect girl. Or man.

Harry didn't reply, choosing instead to stuff his face with stale fries.

"Alright then" You raised your shoulder in surrender, "keep your secrets…"

He squinted in disbelief,

"Did you just quoted The Lord of the Rings at me?"

"Did you just recognize my Lord of the rings quote?" You countered.

"You are such a nerd!"

"Look who's talking, chicken little!" You gestured at his powder blue sweater with a yellow baby chick at the front and herringbone pants.

"Oi!" His manchester accent popped out, like it always did whenever he lost his cool "I'll have you know, this is Gucci"

You scoffed,

"That doesn't make it any better, it just means that you spent a shit load of money to look like my third grade teacher, mister Harrington!"

"Ok, first of all," he countered, "your teacher sounds awesome and second-"

An inelegant snort escaped your mouth. Harry's emerald eyes pinned you down.

"Second of all, you're no one to talk either, kitten hoodie"

You could feel the heat creeping up your cheeks. Praying he couldn't see your blush in the dim light, you took a mouthful of soda to cool you down.

For a moment, none of you said anything, the sweet notes of Fleetwood Mac's "Dreams" the only thing filling the silence.

… Players only love you when they're playing

Women, they will come and they will go...

"Listen, y/n-"

"If I'm being honest-"

He chuckled,

"I'm sorry, ladies first"

"Now I'm not sure if I wanna tell you…"

"Come on" A grown ass man pouting should not be that cute, "I want to know"

You feigned a long suffering sigh,

"Fine, if you must know- If you must know, I actually like your new style. It's way better than that... rock and roll cliche... thing you had going on when we first met" You gestured vaguely in the direction of his body, "You know, the long hair, black clothes, doc boots…"

He flinched,

"Ugh, Don't remind me. I was trying too hard back then. And not only with my clothes, with my music too"

"Oh, yeah, I remember. All you used to sing about was" You chose your words carefully, "frisky girls and being horny…"

"Well, to be fair, I still sing about being horny"

"Yeah, but now you're…"

You trailed off, unsure of how you could explain the difference, the change in your feelings towards his music, without explaining the change in your feelings towards the man that made it.

However, Harry would not let it go that easy. He was used to you being sharp, opinionated, guarded. Now there was a crack on that armour, and he wanted to see what was underneath it.

You hadn't even realized how close you had leaned into each other until his hot breath fanned over your face.

"Now I'm what, y/n?"

More real. More mature. More emotional, as if he had finally found the link, made the connection between sex and love.

"More open"

Harry smiled,

"Open. Yeah, I like that…"

So close. He was so close now, his malaquite eyes were out of focus. So close you could feel his magnetic field, the gravity of his atoms pulling in yours.

"Harry…"

Never in his twenty seven years of life and over ten as a musician, had he heard a more beautiful sound than his name, breathlessly falling from your lips.

"Yes?" He murmured, lips ghosting over your soft, perfect ones.

"No"

"No?"

"No" You repeated, more firmly, taking a step back, putting as much space between the two of you as possible, "I know what this is"

"And what is this, y/n" To your surprise, he didn't sound mad, or demanding. He sounded confused and sad. Dissapointed but unsurprised, as if he had expected it to go south or… never had dared expect it would actually happen at all.

"A bad idea" You explained, "with guys like you, is always the same: You have beautiful women throwing themselves at you every night. And you take them home with you cause why wouldn't you? You are young, and free and hot. There is nothing wrong with taking what's being offered"

"Y/n-"

"I'm not saying it's your fault" You went on, ignoring him, "And I'm not saying you don't fall in love, sometimes. But that's the exception, not the rule, and I… I'm the kind of girl that's the rule. Not the exception"

Harry had always thought the worst that could happen to him was losing your friendship. Finally making a move, a real move, and getting rejected by you. He thought that was the definitive pain, the one that would obliterate him, if things were not to work out. And he was almost certain they would not work out.

But sitting there, in front of you, separated by a wooden bar that might as well have been the great wall of china as you stood there, arms around yourself, small and defenseless as you explained to him all the reasons why you wouldn't allow yourself to love him… that was way worse.

"What if you already were my exception?" He blurted out, before he could stop himself, "What if I was in love with you?"

You laughed, bitterly.

"Harry, I'm not even your type. I've seen you leave night after night with models and socialites and actors, each one more surreally stunning than the last one…" You didn't have a bad self esteem, you didn't. You considered yourself attractive, but the people Harry usually went for were on a whole different level.

"Yes, but that's only because the most absolutely perfect woman in the world for me, keeps me at arm's length!" He rubbed his face in frustration, "And it's so maddening, so fucked up, the way I can't even get away from her long enough to get over her, because even the pain of seeing her every night knowing I can't touch what I see, that I will never have her, is better than the pain of being away from her.

So I keep on taking home the hottest people I can find hoping they will keep me distracted long enough to fill the hours until I can see her again… until I can-"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Never, in all the time you had known each other, had Harry given you a single signal indicating he had any kind of feelings for you. Your relationship had always consisted of friendly banter and quip battles. Sure, you could get flirty sometimes, but you were a bartender, flirting was pretty much your customer service voice, and he was a musician, he would flirt with his own shadow if he could.

Harry opened his mouth to explain, but a familiar melody started coming from the still working speakers.

Walk in your rainbow paradise

Strawberry lipstick state of mind…

"Hey, this is my song!" You didn't quite understand why he seemed so marveled, "You never added any of my songs to your playlist before!"

Oh. Oh.

"Yeah, well" Harry could now clearly see your darkened cheeks as you stumbled over your words, "I guessed I never liked one of your songs so much before"

This time, he was the one blushing and avoiding your eyes.

"What would you say if I told you-... If I told you I wrote this one for you?"

"I'd say you're full of shit" You scoffed, "Didn't you tell me you only ever wrote about girls you had dated?"

"No," he corrected, "I said I only ever wrote about women that had broken my heart…"

"How did I break your heart?"

Harry sighed. Your walls were back up, higher than ever, and he didn't know how to break through them. It wasn't your fault -and had it been your fault, truth was he could never blame you either, there was something about you that made it physically impossible for him to get mad at you- you spoke from experience, he didn't need to unlock the secrets of your past, didn't need the details. It was obvious you had been burned before, and though he hated it, hated them for whatever they had done to you, he couldn't fault you for trying to protect yourself.

Not when he wanted to protect you too.

"You didn't like me, back when we first met"

"Harry-"

"No, it's ok. You didn't like me, and you were right not to like me. I know you probably didn't realize it but, that first time you rejected me, when I flirted with you that very first night and you rolled your eyes at me… you changed my life"

"What? How??"

"You weren't wrong, I was a cliche. And I was trying way too hard, to be cool, act like a rockstar… but you took a look at that guy, at that though, playboy, sex, drugs and rock 'n roll guy… and you hated him" Harry snickered. You didn't understand what about all that was so funny, "I had created that guy so that everyone would like him, and you hated him. And the funny thing is-" He finally met your eye. No, he caught your eye and imprisoned them, "The funny thing is, you hating me for what I wasn't, somehow allowed me to start being myself a little bit more, because if you already disliked me… then I had nothing to lose"

You didn't quite know what to say to that.

His bright green eyes were unable to face yours, choosing instead to focus on the palms he was picking at,

"Is that why you… uhm…" You pointed at his sweater.

"Yup" He admitted, "I showed up here one day, on laundry day, in one of my old nerdy sweater vests and you smiled, when you saw it"

"I remember that!" You chuckled, "It was the brown striped one, it almost looked like a crop top, cause it obviously didn't fit anymore"

Harry nodded,

"I may have had a couple grow spurts since I got that in high school"

"Ok, but, you made it work somehow…"

"Thank you. The point is…" he turned serious again, his deep, rich voice even more hypnotic than usual. Or maybe it was just you, for the first time allowing yourself to enjoy it without reservations. "The point is, you didn't like cool Harry, but you liked the real me. Even if just a little bit, and that meant the world to me. I… I adored you because of it. So I wrote a song for you, cause even if I couldn't say it to your face, I had to get it out. Just like I had to get this out tonight"

He opened his arms wide, in his typical ta-da gesture, sad, resigned smile on his face, before getting up from his stool, grabbing his jacket and guitar case.

"You don't have to say anything, I don't expect you to love me back" He declared, "I just- I thought I'd let you know. Valentine's day and all that."

He turned to leave, his own voice still signing in the background,

I'd walk through fire for you, just let me adore you

Oh, honey…

"Harry, wait!" You almost fell on your face, trying to jump over the bar, but managing to stop him right before he reached the door. His poorly concealed smirk told you he might have seen your little show, but you didn't care.

"Did you mean it? That you'd do anything for me?"

"I did" He confirmed, earnestly, "I still do. Anything you want, just say the word"

"Well then," you took a step towards him, that he mirrored without even noticing, "what about a date? A daytime date. At a public place." You clarified. Harry did smirk at that.

"What's the matter, afraid you won't be able to keep your hands off me?" He teased, leaning closer.

"Don't ruin this, Styles" You warned, raising to your tiptoes to meet him eye to eye.

His smile faltered, replaced by the most sincere intensity you had ever seen on his handsome face,

"Wouldn't dream of it, bartender" He whispered, before capturing your lips with his.

#harry styles #adore you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #valentines day special

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redhoodieone · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome Home

A/N: Hi everyone! This is an old fic that I’m re-posting for those who want to read it. Enjoy!

WARNINGS: Language and Smut.

I knew my family was different the moment I found out my adoptive father was Batman. I was just a ten-year-old girl when I snuck down the stairs at midnight for a drink of water and spotted Batman leaving a trail of blood from his study and calling out for Alfred for help. The moment our eyes locked, Bruce instantly knew that I was clearly aware of his secret. He had also confessed it was him who saved me from a shootout that my parents were involved in and that it was him, as Batman. I felt I owed Bruce my own life for saving me, and I vowed to keep my father’s secret and pray that he would return home safely every night back to me.

It didn’t help that I soon discovered my adoptive older brother Dick Grayson was Robin. Not only did I have to keep his secret as well, but it made it more impossible to not have a crush on him. I mean, Dick has such a charming personality, beautiful baby blue eyes, and a devilish smile that can make any girl crawl on her hands and knees. And that ass…

I later found myself becoming the second Robin once Dick left to assume his own identity, Nightwing. Bruce trusted me, and he saw potential in me the second I told him I couldn’t see myself being a hero forever. Perhaps he never really wanted me to be his sidekick and figured if I got it out of my system that I could resume my life as a sixteen-year-old and do normal teenager activities. As if my life was normal anyways.

But things changed as soon as I was finally embracing myself as a hero. Bruce had taken in a new kid, Jason Todd. He was a troublemaker, a rebel, and a mysterious kid, who had never even spoken to me unless he had to. I don’t think my age helped the situation either; I was a couple of years older than him and he may not have seen me as an equal. But of course, the dark haired, icy blue eyed, bad attitude boy was given the Robin title, and I was removed because of a patrol-gone-wrong situation.

Stupid Harley Quinn and her baseball bat. Who knew one hit to my knee could bench me for two months (Alfred added an additional five months of rest).

Then the unthinkable happened. The second Robin was killed by the Joker. Jason Todd’s death put Bruce into a depression, and he swore he would never put another kid’s life in danger. Our father and daughter relationship broke apart before my very eyes. I spent my remaining teenage years in the mansion isolated, except for Alfred’s loving company.

I had graduated high school on time and I quickly decided to go to Gotham University to escape the Bat family. Before I moved out, I discovered Bruce had taken in another kid, Tim Drake, who was currently the new Robin. Was I hurt? Of course, I felt I was somehow replaced. Would I miss the Bat family? Maybe. Maybe not.

I did in fact wish the new younger Robin good luck. When Tim looked up at me, his light blue eyes were so innocent and frightened about me leaving him behind. I didn’t know why he would be so upset about me leaving; wouldn’t he want all of Bruce’s attention without me hanging around the mansion?

Now I’m twenty-one-years-old, and I’m still a student at Gotham University. Alfred had just called and informed me Bruce wants me back home.

As I sit in a taxi while anxiously waiting to pull up to Wayne Manor, I honestly don’t know why Bruce wants me back at home. Alfred has kept me up to date about the Bat family incidents and activities I have missed out those few years such as:

Dick Grayson becoming a womanizer (I saw it coming) and how he’s juggling working as a police officer and Nightwing. He’s still the favorite and golden child in Bruce’s eyes.

Jason Todd is back from the dead, and he’s currently operating his own team: Red Hood and the Outlaws (who knew he was leadership material underneath that thick skull of his?).

Tim Drake is Red Robin (does the fast food chain restaurant know about his superhero name?), and he’s currently assisting the Teen Titans when necessary while simultaneously aiding Bruce with detective work.

Damian Wayne is Bruce Wayne’s unknown biological child. I think he’s about fifteen-years-old now; from what I remember the last time I spoke to Alfred. I met Damian once, when Bruce asked me to meet him once Talia al Ghul practically dropped him off at Bruce’s doorstep. The boy was a little shit: bratty, stuck up, and insensitive. Even though he is the spitting image of Bruce, minus the different colored eyes (Bruce has blue and Damian’s are green), Damian claims he is set to take over the cowl when Bruce is either dead or done. God help us all…

But I still can’t figure out why I am needed back home. Is Alfred sick? Is Bruce dying after fighting all these years? Is it one of my brothers?

I jump in surprise once the taxi comes to a hard stop. After paying the man, I grab my duffel bag and I climb the front steps that I suddenly remember jumping off them as a kid. Alfred scolded me many times, and I still did it because being bad was fun.

I scoff loudly, and I jump down the five steps that would have given Alfred a heart attack. Maybe I haven’t changed as much as I thought.

I find the wooden front door unlocked, which is odd considering Alfred always makes sure to lock it. As a matter of fact, Alfred hasn’t greeted me like he always does when I come home. Where is Alfred?

After I unwrap my scarf, I pull my hoodie over my head to be more comfortable in the warm house. Sadly, I forgot to do laundry yesterday, so I came home in just my black yoga pants and red tank top. What would Alfred say?

I kick off my shoes and walk to the kitchen barefoot. Pulling my long hair into a ponytail, I notice a note on the counter that’s written for me. I unfold the note and stare at the nicest, well done cursive handwriting only one man can do here.

Dear Lady Y/N,

I sincerely apologize for not being there to greet you properly. Master Bruce had wanted me to take my holiday to London early, and Lord knows I can use a week to myself after stitching up countless wounds, tidying up bedrooms and Bat caves, and playing messenger between you and your father. I have a cooked roast with garlic mash potatoes in the refrigerator if you are hungry. Do heat it up and perhaps show your father and brothers how to use the microwave.

I dearly love you and the boys,

Love Alfred Pennyworth

P.S.

Look into the highest cabinet above the refrigerator, and you will discover a jar of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies just for you.

I grin widely, and before I can turn around and find the cookies, I’m stuck between the counter and a tall, hard body behind me. I freeze.

“Welcome home, Y/N. I missed you so much,” Bruce whispers in my ear. I can feel his hot breath above my shoulder and neck. The familiar smell of his expensive cologne fills my nostrils. His large hands rub my legs and grip onto my hips very hard. “Did you miss me?”

“H-hi dad. W-what are you doing?” I ask softly, but I know it came out like a whisper. One of his hands is holding my waist, while the other caresses my abdomen. It feels strange considering Bruce is supposed to be my father, and we shouldn’t be this close or even touching each other. But a part of me wants to keep feeling his hands on me and see what he does next.

“Holding you. Smelling you. Touching you,” he answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He breathes harder when I press my backside against his front by accident. “It appears you want this too. Am I correct, Y/N?”

His hand pulls down my yoga pants enough, so he can reach into my underwear. Bruce continues to breathe hard from his nose when his fingers find my core. His thumb rubs fast circles on my clit, while he pushes two fingers inside me. I bite my bottom lip to stop a loud moan from coming out of me, but he appears he’ll have none of that. He stops fingering me.

“You better be loud, or I won’t let you cum, Y/N.”

Before I can beg him to keep going, he turns my face, so I can look him in those cold, pale blue eyes. “Please tell me you’re…not a virgin.” Bruce’s face is twisted in pleasure from just fingering me, but I can tell his lips are trembling and there’s a soft but pleading look in his eyes. This must hurt him as much as it’s hurting me.

“I-I’m not,” I confess, and wonder if he would change his mind if I said I was.

“Who was it with?” Bruce demands. He kisses along my shoulder to my neck before he bites on my soft spot. I hiss in pain and I grind into him again.

“Josh Mitchell. I was sixteen,” I answer harshly.

“Was he any good?”

Before I can answer, Bruce shoves the front of my body onto the counter, while he pulls down my yoga pants. My adrenaline is rushing, and I can feel myself wetting the counter from just his roughness. I can feel him unzip his pants and I can already imagine this thick, hard cock fucking me into oblivion.

“No, no he wasn’t good at all!” I cry out.

“Good, I’m actually relieved to hear that,” Bruce says, as he starts to stroke himself. “Do you want me to fuck you, Y/N?”

I want to turn around and watch him jack off. Hearing him pleasure himself isn’t enough. Bruce then jams two fingers back into my pussy and I whimper loudly. It has been too long since I’ve been intimate with a man. I need his cock now!

“I asked you a question, Y/N. Do I need to remind you who you are supposed to answer to?” he says seriously before adding a third finger inside me. I grip the counter and I breathe harder. I find myself rubbing my pussy on the edge of the smooth countertop for more friction, but he grabs my hips and stops me. “Now, do you want me to fuck you, Y/N, or should I leave you here, so you can dry hump the countertop alone?”

I growl louder, while my nails scratch the counter top. “YES! Yes, I want you to fuck me, Dad!”

As soon as those words left my mouth, I immediately wonder if I killed the mood. Why would I call him ‘dad’ when we’re about to have hot, rough sex in the kitchen? I need to apologize. I push myself up on my elbows and I shift my head to the side to apologize. I open my mouth to speak but stop when Bruce’s eyes darkened, and he growls as he slams his thick cock inside me.

I moan louder than I have in my entire life. His cock fills me up so much that I fear I won’t be able to walk straight for the next week or two. Bruce lifts my legs up and continues to shove me against the counter with every hard thrust. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to fuck me. The man is practically drilling into me with no kindness at all.

“Oh fuck! You’re so fucking tight. So wet and so hot,” Bruce groans out. With each thrust, I can feel he wants to let go and fuck me like he owns me.

“Go ahead, Dad. Fuck me. Fuck me like I’m yours and only yours,” I tempt him playfully.

Bruce growls and rams his cock faster into me. He keeps knocking the air out from my lungs, and I can feel my body pulsating against his. I grip the countertop harder each time, and I know my knuckles are turning white and becoming numb every second. With one hand on my hips, Bruce moves his other hand up my tank top to hold my tits.

“No bra? You’re a bad girl,” Bruce says in between panting.

“I forgot to do laundry,” I choke out.

“Excuses,” he manages to say, as he holds me up more, so he can penetrate me deeper. His cock is hitting a deeper spot in me. It must be my g-spot, because I have read about it but never actually felt it to know. I can feel myself clenching his dick tightly, and I know I’m getting closer to release. “You wanted me and your brothers to see your tits, huh?”

“Maybe,” I cry out louder than what I intended to. Fuck, what if one of my brothers hears me? They’ll really think I’m insane for fucking our father and for loving it every second. Bruce readjusts our position once more, so he can hit that spot continuously. “I-I think I’m going to cum!”

“Not yet, you better not!” Bruce growls, and drills into me harder and faster. With his powerful thrusts and the constant friction from the countertop on my clit, I know for a fact that I can’t last longer. His hands hold onto my hips while he fucks me harder than before.

I become a moaning mess. I can feel my mouth drop open because I feel liquid coming out from my core. Did I just squirt? What the hell is happening to me?

The sounds of skin on skin is louder because of my mess. I drop my head onto the counter while Bruce continues to fuck me. Before I can catch my breath, Bruce chuckles and lifts me up. “I just made you squirt. That has never happened before, has it?”

“No, that was my first time,” I answer breathlessly. He kisses my neck.

“You’re so wet,” Bruce grunts into my ear. Breathing heavily, he lifts my hips again, so he can rub my clit with his fingers. “You’re making a mess all over my cock. You’re such a bad girl.”

“I’m your bad girl,” I moan out, as I can feel another orgasm threatening to take over my body.

“Fuck yes, you are!” Bruce groans, and continues to shove his cock into my soaking wet pussy.

With every rough thrust, I know Bruce won’t last. I whimper once more when my pussy clenches his dick as he fucks me through my orgasm. A few more hard thrusts, Bruce pulls out and turns me over onto my back. He jacks himself off as I watch his cum spurt out all over my stomach.

Just seeing his hard, veiny thick cock before me turns me on once more. I lick my lips at how the tip of his dick glistens with his cum.

Bruce sighs heavily, and just when I think I should try to get up and clean myself, he pulls me up and kisses me. He shoves his tongue into my mouth, and we explore each other’s mouths as if this was our last chance to. He pulls away from me and rests his forehead against mine.

“You’re mine, Y/N. You belong to me, and the Batfamily. I don’t care who wants you, because you will never give them what you have given me. Do you understand?” Bruce asks, before giving me his famous bat glare.

“I understand, and I promise,” I swear before he kisses me once more.

“Good, now go wash up,” Bruce instructs before he helps me off the counter.

I grab a paper towel and wipe Bruce’s cum off my stomach before I pull up my yoga pants. As soon as I toss the damped paper towel into the trash, I immediately notice Dick Grayson is standing there at the entrance of the kitchen staring at me with fire in his eyes.

#dc comics #batman #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x reader smut #bruce wayne x y/n smut #bruce wayne smut #batman smut

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house-of-galathynius · 3 years ago

Text

Only You ~ Rowaelin

A Rowaelin fanfic, set if Aelin’s parents had lived and she had met Rowan under normal circumstances, if Erawan and Maeve weren’t threats. Hope you enjoy!

@jesstargaryenqueen @sailorsassley @sjmships @tomtenadia @endlessdaydream @aflickeringsoul @tillyrubes10 @fredweasleyhasadhd @rowaelin-cressworth @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @rowaelinismyotp @rosegoldannie @maryberry @viajandosinalas @becarefuloflove @allthebooksunderthemoon @sheharahu @swankii-art-teacher @superspiritfestival

Chapter Fourteen ~ Secrets

Chapter Thirteen ~ Chapter Fifteen

The snow came soon enough. It covered everything in it’s white blanket and brought a bitter chill to the air. Aelin had lived through twenty-one of these winters, but every time the weather turned, taking the last remnants of autumn with it, she found herself mourning the loss.

She surveyed the snow covered courtyard from her window, watching as the staff in charge of the garden swept the snow from the paths, small mounds of it building to the side. She could remember the times her and Aedion would push each other into them, making forts and snowmen from the massive mounds and when spring would begin to emerge those forts would be the last thing to disappear.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw a winter like this.” Rowan had snuck up behind her, his arms coming around her in a loving embrace. “I suppose I will have to get used to them if I’ll be living here.”

Aelin huffed. “If it was my choice I’d spend my winters somewhere hot and sunny. The cold is horrid.” She rested her hands on Rowan’s, snuggling closer. “I know you said Doranelle never felt quite like home… but do you think you’ll miss it?”

He seemed to think a moment. “No. I don’t think I will.”

A knock at the door had them breaking apart.

“Aelin? Are you in there?”

Lysandra’s voice was shaky on the other side of the door. Aelin looked to Rowan who had also noticed the slight tremor in her voice.

Aelin strode to the door and opened it to find a teary Lysandra, her face red and blotchy. She was clutching a handkerchief and sniffling as she looked at Aelin.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course, Lys.” She beckoned her in, leading her to the bed, Rowan exiting the room as she did.

“I need your help.” She let out a small hiccup and fell back onto the pillows. She wiped her nose and sniffed, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath.

“You’re starting to scare me.” Aelin crawled beside Lysandra, crossing her legs and watching as Lysandra held back the tears. “What is it?”

Lysandra hesitated for a moment, wiping more tears from her face.

“I’m pregnant.”

Aelin tried not to let her shock show as she struggled to find words. Despite Terrasen being one of the more forward-thinking territories in Erilea… unwed mothers were still a taboo and Aelin hated to think it, but with Lysandra being so close to the royal family… it would make the situation more difficult. Not to mention how Aedion would react— assuming it was in fact his, Aelin hated to even think those thoughts.

“I wanted to tell you sooner… but I had hoped it wasn’t true.” Lysandra brought the handkerchief to her nose once more. “The healers confirmed this morning.”

“I don’t… have you told Aedion?”

Another sniffle. “I don’t know how.” She sat up, turning to sit knee to knee with Aelin. “I’m terrified because once he knows we have to tell everyone else, and then there is going to be a huge debate on how it’s dealt with, and I just—“ Aelin leant over and held Lysandra and began stroking her hair as she cried.

“We’ll figure it out Lys. Whatever happens.”

“I’m so scared.”

Aelin held her tighter. “I know. But you’re a member of this family and you’ll have all our support.” She let go and faced Lysandra. “Do you want me to be there when you tell him?”

Lysandra hesitated and then nodded.

“Today?”

Another nod.

“Okay. Stay here whilst I organise a couple of things. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

Aelin hopped off the bed, tucking Lysandra in. She threw on the nearest dress and combed through her knotty hair before heading down the breakfast room.

When she entered the room her family were already sat there. She could see the snow clouds rolling in through the windows, small flakes already floating down. Her father greeted her as she came to stand at the head of the table. Aedion was flicking through some papers, uninterested in her arrival.

“I’m not going to be able to meet with the planners today. Lysandra isn’t feeling well, so I’m going to look after her.”

Orlon paused his sipping. “We have healers, Aelin. There’s no reason to abandon your duties.”

“She doesn’t need the healers. It’s more of a woman thing.” She had used this card too many times to count— trying to get out of royal duties and snag a few extra hours in bed.

Her mother gave her a knowing look.

“I promise I will put in extra hours tomorrow to make up for it.”

Orlon didn’t look convinced, but nodded anyway and went back to sipping his tea. Aedion had not looked up once from his papers, completely unaware of the shitstorm that was coming his way.

Rowan on the other hand was giving Aelin a curious look.

Is everything okay?

She gave a subtle nod. Lysandra just needs me.

Did I scent what I think I did?

Shit. She had forgotten about the fae sense of smell. The castle was still crawling with other Whitethorns, not to mention Aedion who had been gifted the fae abilities too, if any of them got close enough to scent Lysandra…

“Aedion?”

He finally looked up.

“Can you come up when you’ve finished? Lysandra wants to see you.”

“Why?”

She rolled her eyes. “Does she need a reason? She just asked me to get you.”

“I’ll be up soon.”

She stole a couple of pastries and walked back up to her room. She found Lysandra in the same spot she had left her in, her body curled into a ball, the sheets tightly pulled over her.

“I asked Aedion to come up when he was done.” Aelin stroked her hair, placing the stolen pastries on the side table. “Do you want anything?”

Lysandra shook her head.

Aelin left her and went to sit on the sofa instead. She used her flame to light the fire, filling the room with a comforting warmth. Neither of them said anything, Aelin picking up discarded papers from the day before, trying and failing to read what was on them. The words blurring into each other the more she tried to focus.

Trying to keep a pregnancy hidden in a palace full of humans was hard enough, but in a palace full of fae… it was going to be impossible. Aelin glanced to Lysandra who was still hidden beneath the covers. She knew what her parents would want, and she knew what Orlon would say needed to happen. But Lysandra was a free spirit, and the options she would be given in order to remain in the palace would not be desirable to her.

She nibbled on the stolen pastry, barely tasting it as she swallowed it down. She should’ve told Aedion it was urgent and dragged him up with her, waiting for him was unbearable. Aelin picked up and immediately put back down the book she had been meaning to read. Her mind too worked up to focus on anything other than Lysandra. She stood up, going to the window and watching the snow fall, heavier than it had been earlier. The paths that had been swept clear only thirty minutes ago, were now covered with a white blanket. From her window she could almost see the city beyond, then the mountains in the distance which were layered with clouds.

Aelin tore her gaze from the outside and back to Lysandra, who was know sat up and stating right back at her.

“Your fidgeting is making me nervous.” Lysandra patted the spot beside her. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, stop worrying so much.”

She huffed. “You’re one to talk — coming in here crying and then hiding under the covers. Of course I’m going to be worried Lys.”

“I just found out I’m pregnant, I’m pretty sure my reaction is normal.” She brushed her hair to the side. “I’m pretty sure if you found out you were pregnant right now you would react a similar way.”

“My situation is slightly different.”

“But it wasn’t a year ago.”

Aelin felt the words like a punch to the stomach. “Was that necessary to bring up?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.” Lysandra sighed and laid her head back on the pillows. “I’m just scared and I’m acting out. I didn’t mean it, Aelin.”

“I don’t want anyone else knowing what happened last year, okay? With so many Fae in the palace, anyone could hear.”

“You mean Rowan could hear?”

She shrugged. “Any of them. If just one of them found out, there’s no doubt in my mind they would tell Rowan.” Aelin went to the door and peaked into the hallway, breathing a sigh of relief when no one was to be seen. “I’ll tell him eventually, I’m sure.” She pressed the door closed quietly and went back to the chair.

“What do you think Aedion will do?”

“I think he loves you and he’ll support you in any way he can.”

Lysandra thought for a moment. “I don’t want people to know, Aelin. I can’t deal with the stares and the whispers. People already think less of me because I don’t come from noble blood… I don’t think I can deal with the looks that I’ll get.”

Aelin’s heart squeezed. Lysandra was right. She had always been looked down upon from the other nobles in the palace, and in Orynth in general. People were cruel and this would fuel their dislike for her even more— especially since Aedion was seen as one of the most sought after males in the city.

There was a knock on the door and Aedion strode through, assessing the two of them as he did.

“I don’t have long, I’ve got a meeting with Lord Allsbrook in ten minutes.” He took another look at Lysandra who had paled in the face and looked like she could pass out any second. “Is everything okay? You look like you’re about to be sick.”

Lysandra jumped from the bed and half ran to the bathroom. Aelin tried not to wince at the sounds of her vomiting. Aedion started towards the bathroom, but Aelin stood to stop him. “Leave her for a moment.”

“What is going on? Should I get a healer? If she’s sick she should be getting help.” He moved around Aelin’s hand. Aelin slipped in front of him, her hands going to his chest, pushing him back towards the chair. He narrowed his eyes at Aelin. “You said it was a woman thing, but that does not sound—“

“For the love of God, please would you just do as I say.” Aedion backed off slightly, his brows furrowing as another bout of vomiting could be heard.

“If she’s not sick then why is she—“ Realisation dawned on his face as he put two and two together. He stepped back and slumped into the chair, his eyes glossing over. “Gods almighty.”

“Aedion, please don’t freak out yet. Lysandra needs you, and if you’re freaking out it won’t help anyone.”

The sounds of shuffling came from behind and Lysandra chose that moment to emerge from the bathroom. One hand rested on her still flat stomach, her gaze on Aedion. He didn’t move as she made her way towards him, eventually coming to crouch in front of him, her hands gripping his own.

“I found out this morning. I had suspected for a couple of weeks… but the healers confirmed it.”

“I thought you were taking a tonic? I mean… this is not possible.” He shook his head. “The healers told you it was effective, that the chances of conceiving whilst taking it were low.”

“Low, but not impossible.”

Aedion turned to Aelin. “And you knew about this? For how long?”

“I found out this morning. I haven’t known much longer than you.” She put her hands up in defence.

Lysandra stood from her crouch and went to the bed again, her hands immediately going back to her stomach as she sat. “I don’t want anyone to know yet. Not until we figured out the next moves.”

Aedion shook his head. “You’ll never be able to keep it a secret here.” He stood too, starting to pace. “We could go to the cabin in the mountains, or go to the summer palace.”

Aelin shook her head. “The cabin is too far and too isolated. If she needs healers it will take too long for them to reach her, and the summer palace is impossible to reach during the winter.”

Aedion groaned. “So we find an apartment in the city and stay there. The healers can get there easily and its safe.”

“What are you going to tell everyone, Aedion? You can’t just leave the palace for nine months without a valid explanation.” Lysandra’s voice cracked as she spoke.

Aedion went to her side, his arm snaking around her waist as he pulled her in closer, Lysandra’s head resting on his shoulder. He placed a kiss on the top of her head before he looked to Aelin. “I’m not leaving her alone. What if something happens?”

Aelin hated the thought of Lysandra being alone too. But it would be too suspicious if Aedion suddenly left the palace, and she couldn’t even begin to think of the complexities of trying to find an apartment in the city without someone catching on.

They all looked to the door as someone knocked. Aedion went white as he started to panic. Lysandra quickly crawled back under the covers, hiding her non-existent bump.

Aelin got up and opened it, the tension in her shoulders easing when it was just Rowan. She ushered him in and Aelin saw Aedion and Lysandra relax.

The four of them remained in silence until Rowan cleared his throat and started to speak.

“Should I be congratulating you?”

Aedion glared at Aelin. “You told him?”

“I am a full-blooded Fae male. I scented it on her when she came here this morning.”

Lysandra groaned into the pillow. “If Rowan already knows, then how many others do you think can scent it on me? I can’t stay here!”

“Could you and Rowan not say you want somewhere private to stay? Then Lysandra could stay there and if we visited it wouldn’t be as suspicious.”

Aelin tried to hide the blush that crept up her cheeks as thought of it. She cleared her throat. “It would never be approved, Aedion. You know we couldn’t do that before a mating or wedding ceremony. The Lords would go crazy if they knew Rowan and I were living away from the palace alone.”

They fell into silence again as they all thought. The only sounds came from the crackling fire and howls of the wind from outside.

“What about asking Sam?”

Aelin’s head shot up to stare at Rowan.

“That’s out of the question. He won’t speak to me.”

“Lysandra is still friends with him. I’m sure if you explained the situation, he would let her stay. It would be perfect. It’s somewhere close by, she wouldn’t be alone and it would give us good excuses to go into the city to see her.”

Aelin couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Except no one would believe me if I said I was going to visit Sam. My parents know everything, they would know something is up.”

“Then we tell your parents about Lysandra. Then the four of us and your parents will be the only ones to know. And Sam.”

“The last time I saw him he told me I was dead to him.” Rowan brushed his hand against her own. A silent gesture of love between the two of them. “It would be better if it came from you Aedion.”

Aedion froze a moment. “I don’t think Sam will want to see me either. I may have paid him a visit after everything happened.”

“Aedion.” Lysandra swatted his head. “You idiot.”

“I didn’t realise we would need his help. I’m sorry for defending my cousin.”

Aelin shushed him and hesitated slightly before speaking, her hand rubbing her forehead. “I’ll go. If he knows it’s for Lysandra maybe he’ll feel more inclined to help.” She turned to Rowan. “You don’t mind?”

“Of course not.”

“I guess it’s settled then. I’ll go into the city and try and see him today.”

Aedion gave her a smile and helped Lysandra out of the bed. “We’ll go and get her things together.”

Aelin nodded.

She remained in the same spot, picking bits of lint from her dress; unsure of what to say to Rowan. She felt the need to explain herself to him, but there was nothing to explain. Rowan knew most of the history between Sam and herself, and maybe that was it. He didn’t know all the history, and after Lysandra’s comment this morning… well maybe she did owe an explanation before they left.

“You don’t need to say anything, Aelin. I trust you.”

“I know. But Lysandra said something to me earlier and now I feel the need to tell you because you’re my mate and I don’t want secrets between us.” She couldn’t look at him as she continued. “Last year during autumn I found out I was pregnant.”

Rowan sucked in a breath. Her chest tightened as his eyes met her own. “I assume it was Sam’s?”

Aelin nodded. “I didn’t tell anyone other than Lysandra and Aedion. I had planned on telling my parents when I began to show… and then I guess I would have either renounced my claim on the throne or Sam would have been given some fake title and we would get married.”

Rowan sat on the small couch, his hands clasped in front of him. “You didn’t tell Sam?”

She shook her head. “I was terrified of what he would do or say and then I got more scared of what other people would think and I just felt stupid that I had put myself in that position.” Aelin tipped her head back and leant it on the back of the chair. “It had been about a week since I had found out, and I was preparing myself on what to say to Sam, when I woke in the night and found a pool of blood on my sheets and I knew what had happened.” She wiped away tears. “The worst part was that I felt relieved. And maybe that makes me an awful person, but when I saw the blood… I really didn’t feel anything other than relief.” She sniffed, remembering the night it had happened, the wetness of her nightgown and the sheets around her, the momentary panic and then the weight lifting from her shoulders when she realised what had happened. She hadn’t hesitated before cleaning herself up and burning the sheets and replacing them herself before someone asked questions. She hadn’t shed a tear the entire time, not even when she told Lysandra who sat there and cried enough for the both of them. Perhaps she was an awful person, but even now, she still feels relief when she thinks back.

Rowan interrupted her thoughts. “You’re not an awful person.” Rowan still hadn’t looked at her, his gaze focused on the fire. “But you’ve never told Sam?”

“I didn’t know how. He already had these grand ideas of us running away together and starting new lives away from Orynth, if I had told him I was expecting his child he would have got carried away and I— I don’t know. I just didn’t want that.”

“You’re not an awful person for feeling relief. But if it was me… I would want to know. Sam deserved to know, Aelin.”

Her voice wobbled. “I know he did.”

Rowan shifted in his seat, finally meeting her eyes. “I will never question your past because I did not know you then, and you knew what was best for you at that time. But please, Aelin, as your mate, don’t keep me in the dark.” He came to kneel in front of her, taking her hands in his. “I love you unconditionally and I will support you through everything. But never be afraid of sharing things with me. Whatever is thrown at us we will manage together, as a pair. There will never be a burden too heavy that I can’t help you carry, okay?”

Aelin could only nod as she brought her mouth to Rowans, holding his face in her hands as she poured her love into the kiss, hoping that Rowan would know what she was trying say. Rowan pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers.

“I love you, Aelin. No matter what happens.”

“I love you. Thank you for being patient with me, I know I’m a handful and come with a lot of baggage for someone so young.” Aelin let out a laugh.

Rowan grinned in response. “I don’t care about the baggage, Aelin. We all have it, it’s just part of life.” He kissed her forehead once then pulled her up out of the chair. “Let’s go do this before you overthink it all.”

She laughed and swatted his arm, the two of them heading for the door.

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shadowfae · 4 years ago

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We’re all pretty aware that the tumblr otherkin community is at a huge decline; I was wondering if you have any theories as to why that is?

American Protestantism, the decline of queer oppression in North America and the AIDS crisis, helicopter parenting, web 3.0, morality politics, and Tumblr’s porn ban; roughly in that order and rolled up into one bombshell that was a few years in the coming but nobody really saw it and understood it until it was far too late.

That was a mouthful and probably only made sense if you follow current cyberpolitical theory. For some of you reading this, as with every other hot take I have this has a chance of being passed around, that alone is enough. But for others who had no idea what I just said and need the ELI5 version, let me explain that. Buckle up, this’ll be a long one, and will go into fandom history a bit as well because it is actually relevant.

As we know, tumblr is a very American-centric platform. Twitter is also this way, but less so, but tumblr has it bad. Now, I’m ‘lucky’ in the fact that I’m Canadian and a twenty minute drive from the American border, so that puts me in the ‘privileged’ majority. (I say privileged because I’m not really sure what else to call it. Most of the information going around about politics either directly affects me or indirectly affects me approximately one or two links of contact away. Someone who’s only influenced by American politics because it makes their sister’s online friends sad is not going to be privileged in that way.)

This means that American politics and their social climate overwhelmingly affects tumblr’s social climate. This also bleeds through into other fandom spaces, on twitter, instagram, and Pixiv to name a few places; but here’s where I spend the majority of my time so here’s what I’ve witnessed.

America’s main religion, as far as I understand (from the raised agnostic and currently neopagan view I have), is some weirdass capitalistic-Protestantism that is so many miles from what the actual Bible says that if I were a betting man and knew more about cults than I did, I’d say it’s some weird fucking cult and never set foot in the country again for any reason that isn’t gaming free shipping through a PO box. If you have no idea what I just said but are at least vaguely familiar with Christianity, this graphic explains it pretty well. So we can see there’s some glaring issues with that ideal.

The decline of queer oppression and the rise of queer rights in North America, which is to tenderly include my own country but we all know when people say ‘in NA’ they mean ‘America, and Canada where it applies because the right-wing Republicans are really good in the propaganda department to convince everyone that Mexico is a drug-lords-and-anarchy wasteland to the point where even I don’t actually know what’s down there other than bad drivers and heat’; means two things. One, it’s a good thing by a long shot and do not mistake this as me thinking queer oppression being lessened is a bad thing. But two, it means that thanks to the AIDS crisis, queer folks lost a lot of first-person sources as history.

The queer elders in NA who survived are typically either a) bitter anarchists who are often POC, probably still dirt poor and do recreational drugs or b) university-tenured TERFs (trans exclusionary radical feminists). Category A are the people who Republicans have deemed worthless in every way, because racism, queerphobia, ableism, and all the other ways to be wrong and different and Evil that they can’t handle, because Jeezus would never want them to actually learn to love someone who wasn’t just like them, and they don’t have the compassion to do better. Category B are the people who want to be different in just a teensie little bit, typically with TERFs they want to be lesbians, but they don’t want to challenge the status quo. They’re fine with the way things work, they just want to be on top oppressing others over ripping the whole damn thing down and building a more forgiving system.

Now, due to all those ‘isms and the cheerfully malicious aid of the Republicans, pun not intended but drives home the cruelty of it all, we also see the rise of helicopter parenting. The invention of the internet did not really help this. Basically what you’ve got is a whole bunch of parents who saw the civil rights movement, just got access to the internet and things going viral, know the world is changing, and like all parents, they’re scared for their children. Now instead of parents knowing one or two people in their classes who just went missing one day and everyone assumed they ran away, they hear about eight homicides in the city of kids going to parks at night and dying. The Satanic Panic was another event around this time that contributed to that, but I’ll let you research that one.

This means that all of these parents, instead of doing what their parents typically did and let their kids wander off for the day so long as they’re back by sundown, they can’t let their children out of their sight. There might be a freak accident where their child is decapitated on the playground swing! Their baby might get murdered by an evil Satanist walking home from school! Their dearest darling might go online and tell their address to someone who’s got a 100% chance of being a pedophile who will show up and kidnap them in the night!

…You get the idea.

Combine those three things I just established, what we’ve got is a lot of queer kids who have a lot of internalized shame for being different and wrong, because they’re queer, and they can’t find spaces offline to be themselves, because all of the elders who would do that are dead and/or inaccessible and their parents won’t let them go to any clubs that aren’t school-related, which they’ll never find a GSA or queer club because Republicans, ‘isms, propaganda, and the war on Category A queer adults have all done their best to ensure that those spaces don’t exist.

So you have a generation of kids who I am the youngest of. The first generation on the internet. The late Web 1.0 (usenets and Geocities) and early Web 2.0 (livejournal was the big one, ff.net too, also 4chan but fuck those guys) generation. What we were taught was: trust nobody on the internet with your real info no matter how much you like them, this is a wilderness and any crimes that happen won’t be punished or seen so don’t put yourself in a position where you’re going to be the victim of one, and everything you put online is never getting taken down so don’t put anything up that you’re not willing to have on the front page of your local newspaper.

This worked out pretty well, actually! You had kids who knew that if they got in trouble, there was no backup coming to save them. Because the form that backup might take - parents and police - wasn’t going to help. Best case, they’d be banned from their friends and online support groups for being queer. Worst case, they’d be jailed and put in juvie and conversion therapy and turn to drugs and become evil Satanists just like everyone says they secretly are already. So they learned very quickly to take care of themselves. Nobody was going to save them, so they learned to not need saving.

And then, well, Web 2.0 shifted to Web 3.0. Livejournal died because parents - the Warriors for Innocence was the big name - went “gasp how horrible my children are being exposed to the evil pedos and homosexuals they’re going to do drugs and die of AIDS!”. Which is uh. It’s filled with a lot of bigotry, and I’m not excusing them - absolutely I am not - but you can kind of see where they’re coming from, if you tilt your head and squint.

Either way, LJ died, tumblr took its place, Facebook was fast taking off, and the fandom folks who had seen mailing lists go inactive, web admins take their fanfic sites down due to copyright, entire fandoms burnt to the ground in flame wars, said ‘fuck that we’re making our own place’ and that’s how AO3 got made.

That’s important. A lot of folks move to AO3, because well, the rules let them. The rules say ‘you can throw literally anything up here so long as it’s fan content and is not literally illegal, so we don’t get taken down’. It’s a swing for the first generation internet users, those kids who know this place is a wilderness and are carving out our own sanctuary.

But. The children under us. The children for whom AIDS is a nightmarish fairy tale, for whom the ghost stories are conversion therapy, for whom know they can’t really talk to their parents about being queer but can trust they probably won’t get kicked out over it. The children who haven’t spent ten seconds without supervision except online, and their reaction isn’t ‘oh thank god I’m finally free to express myself’ but ‘if I get in trouble, who will protect me?’.

And there’s nobody there. Because we went in knowing there was no backup. And that was fine. But now, the actual adults have figured out that hey uh, maybe we should make cyber laws? Maybe we should make revenge porn and grooming children over the internet crimes? And they grew up with that. They grew up learning that no, even if your parents are suffocating and controlling, they’re always be there for you! Some adult will always be there to protect you!

That isn’t the case. It’s not. But they expect it, because it’s always been done for them. They don’t really want to change the status quo, because that means doing it themselves. They can’t do that, because they don’t know how, they’ve been controlled for every single part of their lives thanks to helicopter parenting and without that control, they don’t know how to keep their lives together, and they demand someone come and control it for them, without restraining them.

Effectively, they want someone to ensure they never face the consequences of their actions. Helicopter parents will rescue you from whatever you did, because you’re their precious baby and it doesn’t matter if you punched a kid, you can do no wrong and the other kid clearly started it.

But being queer is doing wrong. Being queer is something Jeezus doesn’t approve of. So they want to make it something he could approve of! But if it’s too off what they consider to be okay, if it’s too different and weird and wrong and evil, that can’t do, that’s still bad, and they’re precious angels, and children, and minors, why are we the adults not protecting them and letting them see it? Why aren’t we being just like their parents but queer-friendly, why aren’t we protecting the children?

The adults who taught us were the children of those who died as a result of AIDS. The eldest of my generation knew some of them personally. My therapist’s younger brother died at 20 of AIDS, and she told me what it was like. But they don’t have that. These kids of web 3.0, they don’t have that. What they have is over-controlling parents, and the expectation that someone will always be there to protect them but hopefully in ways that don’t hurt them this time, no real understanding of why Category A queer elders are the way they are, and so much internalized shame that they have to do some pretty fancy logic-leaping to keep them from collapsing entirely.

They can’t turn into Category A queer youngsters, because they don’t know how to unravel the system around them, because they’ve never had to actually make choices in their lives and live with the consequences, because they don’t have the example of how to do it. They can’t unravel their internalized shame because again, that’s hard and they don’t have their parents to take away the consequences and pain. It doesn’t come easy to them, so it may as well not come at all.

But, you ask, if Category A queer elders aren’t around to teach the kids, then how are they learning anything positive at all? Well, Category B, our university-tenured TERFs, who don’t want to change the status quo but want to just be at the top of it instead.

For a lot of kids who don’t know how to make hard choices but want to be queer, this is an extremely attractive option. But when they go online to queer spaces, a lot of them say fuck terfs, we don’t support your hate, and they go ‘yeah okay that makes sense’. They can say fuck terfs without ever actually questioning why terfs are bad. They’re Bad and Evil, just like drug addicts, just like fairytale nazis, just like the evil homophobes.

And we saw them say ‘yeah fuck terfs’ and we were like, ‘aight you got it’ and we never questioned if they actually understood us. They didn’t. They didn’t, and we didn’t do enough to fix it, because not enough of us realized the problem. So terfs got a little sneaky. They hid behind dogwhistles and easy little comments, hiding their rhetoric in queer theory that you’ll absolutely miss if you just memorize it and never actually question it and understand why that point is being made.

This goes back to America sucking, because their school system is far more focused on rote memorization over actual logic and understanding of the text. They’re engaging with queer theory the way they’ve been taught, which is memorize and don’t think, don’t question. Besides, questioning and understanding is hard. Being shown different points of view and asked what they think is not only hard but requires them to go against all of the conditioning that says to just listen and agree and never question it, which goes back to tearing the system and internalized shame down, and we’ve established they can’t do that so naturally they don’t do that.

This begets, then, the rise of exclusionary politics. They’re turning into Category B queer youngsters, because we told them ‘hey that’s a terf talking point what are you doing’ and they never questioned why. They learned you can do all sorts of things, just don’t say X, Y, or Z, because they never thought deeply about it.

The children who have grown on Web 3.0 do not want to do any heavy lifting to make things easier for themselves long-run. They want to do as little as possible and have things get better for them. There isn’t enough of us left in Category A, because Category B terfs are very good at recruiting young folks and Cat. A is overwhelming poor, dead, and easily dismissed in the system as evil and bad, so we can’t exactly convince the young folks to listen. If all of the young kids could agree to tear down the system, a lot more older folks might listen. Change always starts with the young, and there’s a reason for that.

But Republicans have figured out, if you get people fighting, they never put together a force that can actually stop you. TERFs, who want the exact same thing as Republicans but with themselves on top, are doing this to queer youth, and Cat. A elders can’t fight back because there isn’t enough of them and the odds are against them, and the young folk like me who follow their lead.

People can kinda handle gay people. It’s not so far from the acceptable normal that it’s impassable. But you want them to handle kinky people? Gay people of colour? Kinky gay people of colour? Trans people? Those are bridges too far to step across. The original idea was to get the foot in the door with marriage equality and inch our way through with racial equality, sex positivity, dismantling ableism and perisexism (forgive me if that isn’t the word for anti-intersex ‘ism), and see if we can’t patch up the system instead of inciting a civil war over this and have to tear down the system entirely.

Well, we might’ve managed that if not for AIDS being the perfect ‘Jeezus is killing all the evil gay people for being sinners’ propaganda machine. As it stands now, not a chance in hell. So long as Republicans and terfs keep everyone fighting, nobody has the power to dismantle their empire, and they stay in power.

So then, you ask me, “Lu what the fuck does that have to do with the decline of otherkinity on tumblr???” and now that you’ve got all that background knowledge, here is your answer.

Those children who want their experiences curated for them and the evil icky content they don’t like to be gone because it disgusts them and anything that disgusts them is clearly sinful problematic and should be destroyed, are what we call ‘antishippers’, or anti for short.

They like being progressive. Sort of. They learned what Republicans and terfs have honed to a fine talent: keep people fighting, hold them to a bar they have to constantly make or risk being ostracized, and harass the people who don’t play along into getting out of your sight forever. Sound familiar?

They learned of otherkinity, and particularly fictionkind, because web 3.0 means if something goes viral on one site, it doesn’t just go viral on that site, it makes it to worldwide newspapers and twitter and nobody ever, ever fucking forgets it. They realized the following: “Hey wait, if I’m this character for realsies, not only does it help me deal with the internalized shame I’ve done nothing to actually fix because that takes work, I can also tell these people who draw gross content I don’t like they’re hurting me personally, and that actually sounds credible, and I can shame them into stopping”.

If this is your first time here and that sounds sickening, it damn well should, and I am so, so sorry that any of us had to witness this, and I am more sorry I and everyone else who personally witnessed this didn’t realize what was going on and put a stop to it. I answer asks and browse the tags and clear up misinformation and it isn’t just a genuine desire to help. It’s damage control, and my own way of trying to deal with the guilt of not stopping this. I’m well aware I couldn’t have seen it coming, I was a teenager myself still learning and no one person has that much power. I still feel like I should have done more, and I’ll do what I can to fix what’s within my power to fix.

So back to the story. This all culminates around 2016 or so. Trump wins the election, and every queer person ever knows they’re fucked, and the younger generation’s only ever heard horror stories, never seen actual oppression that this could bring. We’re all scared. We all don’t know what to do. Nobody has any answers or any control over the situation.

So they lash out. They attack others for drawing things they don’t like, for challenging them in literally any way, for asking them to reconsider the vile shit they just said, for so much as defending themselves from the harassment they just got. And when challenged, they yell “But I’m a minor! A literal child! How dare you attack me, clearly you get off on this, you evil pedophile!” and they sling around every insult in the book until one sticks. Pedophile is a pretty good one, so is abuser, and sometimes zoophile works out too. Freak is great, everyone gets right pissed off about it.

The fact that Category A queer elders were called pedophiles and freaks is not a fact they know or care about. The fact that they are quickly making every fandom community super toxic is also not a fact they care about. The fact that the ‘kin community has words and terminology and they actually mean shit, and the fact that they’re spreading misinformation faster than we can keep up with, are not facts they care about.

So they come in, take our terms, make it impossible for us to find new folks. They realize our anger is easily a power trip, because we’re already made fun of, so they get off on the little power they can find and make fun of us too, and then when we get rightfully annoyed and pissed off, they can hide behind being minors.

Then tumblr implements their porn ban, because nobody’s stopping them, because it isn’t profitable to have porn on here. Considering most of the otherkin community, and most fandom communities, are full of adults who do occasionally talk about NSFW things, and the fact that they’re just banning everyone who so much as breathes wrong, this begins the start of a mass exodus, scattering already fragile communities to twitter, pillowfort, dreamwidth, and a few other places. Largely, twitter, where you can’t make a post longer than a snappy comeback and where the algorithm is literally designed to piss you off as much as possible.

So community elders have largely left, because they can’t stand the drama and the pain of what’s happened, and that’s if they didn’t get banned for being kinky furries who do talk about how their kintypes merge with their sexuality. Most community members have also left or stopped talking about being ‘kin, because they get associated with antishippers and toxicity and it’s just not worth it. Those of us who are left get drowned out by misinformation and trolls and wishkin and antishippers who appropriate our terminology because it supports them getting a power trip, and whenever we argue, we get called pedophiles and freaks and worse.

And now there isn’t much left. I hope we get to find a better place. Othercon was a good place to talk about it, I did a whole panel (it’s on Youtube!) about what we want to do about it. But I don’t really have any answers.

But to sum it all up... America’s political climate ultimately culminated in destroying queer spaces, and we survived, and then people who wanted to destroy smaller communities to get on top showed up and we were all but defenseless against something we had never, ever dealt with before on this scale.

One of my twitter mutuals mentioned how kinning and otherkin are now completely separate communities. It’s really the best I can do to keep hoping that continues, until nobody realizes the words are at all connected to each other. It’s the best anyone can hope for, now. I hate it. I hate every part of this. But maybe we can salvage what’s left.

#luteia laments #otherkin #fictionkin #alth #alterhuman #asks #anonymous #long post //#discussions #on community history #on politics #on public relations #commentors feel free to add your own thoughts!#Anonymous

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