#thinking about kids recovering from bad situations

[marzipanilla]

idk how into(if at all) you are to actual plays, but that comment immediately made me think 'ah yes cave water! your favorite meal' Dimension20 is a gift when I have the focus for it... (I drink a lot of water mostly lol)

Your mom was empress of a planet that went through a major disaster and the only thing you can express about her is that she loved your dad? I think your depth of understanding is horribly limited there, kid, or you were kept so insanely sheltered !! Did they just keep his ass in the palace and not let him see the world?? What if Mark tried to retroactively tell him about the destruction and he refused to believe him?? He was shown being out among the bodies when Mark got recovered !! did you think everyone was covered in paint, like seriously wtf.

I keep staring at the puddles of world building waiting for them to drop into deep wells and its just an inch of shiny oil on gravel like. You dont have to get into but you can reference stuff! Mark claimed Cecil protected him from seeing the extent of the damage, extend that!! There WAS a court case, but Cecil had it thrown out/made it so the government wouldn't press charges bc he needed Mark on his side in case his dad came back!! just !! so many solutions !! He put Damien into hell for daring to threaten to expose what Nolan had done, he can toss a fucking court case.

lol Mark just having a full jar of assorted teeth would be something. Debbie having to stop doing tooth fairy shit and come up w some reason why they wont leave him money anymore lol

A good bit of reality distortion/mind control is fabulous!! tricks to snap them out of it, emotional appeals to snap them out of it... people acting in odd ways not just bc of what they're doing but suddenly reacting to other characters than the ones everyone expected!! why are you so extra vicious to this person you didnt seem to have much interaction w... why is this other capable of calming you down but not the one you say is important to you... mff. tasty.

Yeah Nolan getting hero worshiped and turned into their ruler is brushed over way too damn quick. like sir. Not only do I think you lack any skills to lead an actual population, you agreed to that. 'it was nice to have a purpose again'. You can help them out without being their fucking boss. Just like Immortal, this bitch doesn't know how to say no. I do think he has a 'cant go back/will never see her again' thought process re: Debbie, but like... if you hadn't been taken by the viltrumites, either they never showed up or he and Mark were successful, once a little more time had passed... How long until he would have had the same I miss her thought? What was your actual relationship w Andressa like?? why did you fucking agree to it?? we get 1 kiss, 1 hug, and 1 time he says her name in an annoyed tone of voice. like sir. I definitely have a big split re: some canon deviations between comic and show for Thraxa, but the show is really just like 'incredibly depressed man fucks president of his fan club accidentally knocks her up' and its just like... how much of that relationship were you just thinking about Debbie? how fucked up is that for Andressa?? If Mark had been on Thraxa with him longer, how long would it have taken for Debbie to come up again?? What the fuck did Nolan actually say about his previous family bc quite frankly what Andressa says just raises more fucking questions.

And these people, just like on Earth, never experienced anything bad from him until the day he fucked off and wasnt seen again like. Nolan really does avoid negative fallout in social situations so hard. He is so fucked up about what happened that he wants to be ritually executed, and that is a mood- but I need to see him stuck around the actual people he directly hurt. for more than one fucking day, or like, half a day in the case of Mark on Thraxa.

Allen's first stop after busting out w Nolan is getting him a chastity belt lol 'have you ever heard of condoms??' Mark seemed pretty beat up about you having another kid and I dont want him sad next time I talk to him..

No lie I almost wrote 'Nolan depression fucks his way across the galaxy and has like, 5 kids when he runs into Debbie again' into a story before deciding I just didn't want to deal w it even tho I could see it happening lol

Yeah. I wonder how much of that divide is related to 'want to chars to have nice things' and 'want my char to suffer horribly' but whump is its own thing and precious cinnamon-roll too good for this world does get the shit beat out of them plenty too. idk, the infinite wonders and variety of life I guess.

Mark agreeing to go hang out on a beach w Debbie instead of refusing and the beach is Beach City (am now officially thinking too much about this crossover lol)

The way I got caught up on our back and forth I almost forgot this, lol! AND OH MY GOODNESS, IMAGINE? I forget exactly what which point Debbie makes the beach offer, but I’d love when exactly in SU/SUF-timeline they’d go? There’s something so fucking funny to me about them going during the SUF-timeline and always narrowly missing the strange, Steven-shaped mental breakdowns in the back. I know those don’t occur in a single day, but it’s tickling me. How could they miss anything? I don’t know I just think it’s funny.

Though, post-SUF is interesting if Gems can see the similar “world on your shoulders”, Mark has going on! Steven can shunt the narrative in the Gems’ minds, which I think is neat, if I’m not misusing the phrase since the guy’s on the road far away. Or maybe it’s just before Steven goes and they stumble into each other. I’d kinda love Pearl and Debbie interacting, honestly, if they could talk about loving someone who hurt you, hide things from you, even when you thought you knew them so deeply, and they left you to raise a child. Pearl being in a well adjusted space, and Debbie still grieving.

Honestly, the gems could help train Mark, they’re got experience and similar-ish powers in strength, sturdiness, and they can jump/run fast enough for flying to be vaguely similar enough to lecture about, I think. Or Lapis Lazulis, haha! Peridot with her trash can lid! Garnet, I’d love to see if she told Mark anything about his future in vague, well meaning advice. Or even giving relationship advice considering Amber. Or, importantly, how to convince an entire reign to end their colonizing ways, lol. Is Mark perhaps willing to start a war, take advantage of being related to any leaders, or fake his own death to varying results?

In general, there’s something so fucking funny to me about Nolan, in the sake of comparison, being Pink Diamond coded. Like OH, did an important or well respected of the colonizing empire come to earth and learn the beauty of its people and nature, including faking/lying/omitting things about his identity and background to being in, only to feel conflicted when his responsibility still remained, and he tried to free himself from them? Yikes! We’ve been through that before! Like gimme Pink Diamond and Nolan outfit swap rn. This is tickling me so much oh my goodness.

[rhinocio]

earn it

[triaelf9]

Just a lil post about Taash and how I'm feeling about how ppl are reacting to them as someone who relates to them very strongly not only on the gender journey front, but also on the mom-issues front.

Cut for length b/c of course this won't actually be a "little" post lol

So I hear a lot of "Taash is too young" "Taash acts like a child" "Taash is too brash" "Taash has wildly binary views of the world" "Taash is thinks their reality is the world's reality" etc etc etc

And I'm here to say that as someone who realized that non-binary was a thing later in life, grew up trying to be them, but society was not only unwelcoming to that, but openly hostile at points, with a mom who had totally different interests, who very much wanted to protect them from the outside world to a point where it left them unprepared to deal with nuances of the world, etc, a mom who thought they were "just doing their best" but was never meant to be a mom, and never wanted to be a mom, didn't have the tools for mom-hood, who wanted to protect their child, but had no real idea how, and how every comment turned into the mom trying to steer her kid the right way, but just came out as a dig or a "you're not good enough" remark, AND looking after your mom in a world that is wholly unsuited to her, that she can't really adapt to and fit into, and kinda becoming her mom to a point so that your life completely revolves around her until you leave home?

Yeah. I get Taash. It's actually kinda freaky how, fantasy elements aside, I get Taash on a frightening level. (aside from the dragon stuff, we're both the same with that HELL YEAH DRAGONS)

Taash doesn't read young to me because I've always read young because of how I was raised. I didn't get the chance to figure myself out until I left home. I also had the benefit of being able to leave for college at a younger age, and got a chance to experience things away from my mom earlier. But seeing things in such a binary way, that's how it is when you're protected like that.

You don't want to admit how similar you are to how your mom sees the world, b/c she sees it in one way, and as you go through life, you get to learn differently. You come out of this situation INCREDIBLY judgmental at first. Why aren't THESE things conforming to MY reality. You come across as brash and childish. And when you get treated as such, it's triggering b/c that's how your mom treats you.

You hate how you look, you think you look like a freak b/c your mom is constantly commenting on your appearance. She does it out of love (she wants you to be healthy & not mocked by your peers) but she doesn't consider that constantly telling you not to look a certain way does damage. My self confidence only recovered in my thirties. I'm 4 days from my 38th birthday, and it took getting pregnant to finally be like "you know what, I don't hate myself & my body" which is MASSIVE for me.

So where do we get our self confidence? In things we enjoy, in hyperfocuses that we're good at. For me that's comics, naginata, fantasy & DA lore lol XD For Taash it's dragons, fighting, and working out. And when we falter there, it's devastating b/c it's the only way we can feel good about ourselves b/c our SELVES are disconnected and tucked away b/c they make us feel bad.

So I totally get how Taash reads to people. The autism aspects are more like my wife (who is autistic & has issues with social cues, while I'm HYPER AWARE of social stuff which fuels my anxiety b/c of the type of person my mom was and how I had to look after her), but I get it.

But it makes me sad when I hear people dunk on Taash as "bad writing" and "unrealistic" and "annoying" and it's like...is that how you see people like that? Is that how you see me and people like my wife? I feel like people aren't willing to look deeper so often (an issue with all the companions tbh & some day I'll have to get into my Davrin feels b/c BOY do I have them. Neve too, WHOOF) but I feel like if you do that in a game, I hope you don't do that irl.

anyway TLDR this is a Taash defense post b/c while they have a lot of issues, stuff they need to work out & have wrong opinions on stuff, they're growing, they're learning & they have to do it later than most. They're an incredibly complicated character with tons of nuance, and I can't wait to get deeper into their story and banter with companions in round 2 of my playthroughs, and then again in round 3

Sorry this is too long, and I'm sure not all of this was intended when they were written, but this is how it all clicked with me as someone who has lived a large portion of that stuff. Like, again, I'm nearly fucking FOURTY and I don't feel like I should be there yet b/c I started so far back. It ALSO doesn't help that ADHD wild child I was, I was held back in preschool b/c neurodivergence also makes a kid read younger, AND the choice to have me be the youngest in the class would have been a very bad one. So I'm older than most of my peers BUT I've always read younger, felt younger, and have had a sore spot when it comes to all that.

Thank you for coming to my Taash Talk, I'll be here all week to think about more stuff, including how their body makes them read as lady, and they're not sure how to feel about that, but they don't want to CHANGE it, but is it right?

ANYWHO this is why Taash is a fascinating character & deserves better than to be regulated to "annoying kid"

[heaven-s-black-box]

Notes- Blabber Mouth; Hydro Men x gn!Reader

Return to File

Recovery date: January 5th, 2025

Description: Hey I just had an adorable idea from the anime tadaima okaeri, specifically the ending of episode 3, where the main characters discovered they were going to have a second child because of their first born, so I was wondering how would the genshin impact men react to this kind of situation

Notes: CW brief mentions of fertility issues on Childe's end, accidental pregnancy in Neuvillette's This work was recovered in conjunction with an anonymous researcher, we thank them for their contributions. Reader can carry children but no pronouns are used.

Hydro Dendro Cryo Pyro Anemo Electro Geo

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Childe

Man is overjoyed you’ve got one kid

Honestly wasn’t sure he could have them, between Abyssal contamination and the overall abuse his body has withstood

Plus his delusion

When he found out you were pregnant the first time, he actually cried

He wishes he could be with you two more often, but he has a duty to the Tsaritsa

And of course, now, to create a better world for your little one

It’s when he comes home from Fontain, all battered and bruised, that you find out you’re pregnant with your second

You join them and your kid starts talking to your belly about the story

Ajax, remembering how is own siblings did that before the birth of the next, immediately asked if you were pregnant

You jokingly scold your child for spoiling the surprise and Ajax pulls you into a big hug, crushing your child in the middle

You’re worried he’ll pull a stitch, and your child is complaining about being squished

But he’s ecstatic, he always wanted to give your kid a sibling… or twelve

One more is a good start though

Ayato

Children were always in his future, and until he met you he didn’t really care about that fact

Then you got together and he saw having children as more than just a duty

He’ll admit, having your first may have partly been due to political pressure

But he would never make you do anything you didn’t want to, he vowed that on your wedding day

Uses you and your child to get out of work, saying stuff like “you wanted me to have an heir, and now I have more duties to attend to”

It’s on one of these days where you three are at a children’s festival

Your child is looking at a bunch of toys and picks out a Sumerian made plushy from a traveling merchant

The kid comes back and presses it against your stomach, making a kissing sound

Ayato remembers how is mother told him he did something similar when she was pregnant with Ayaka

So he hugs you a little closer and kisses your temple, not one for making big scenes in public

You’re of course baffled because, really? This is how your husband finds out

When you get home he sends your little one off and asks if there’s something you’d like to tell him

Tease him a bit, saying you don’t know what he’s talking about

He’ll kneel down and kiss your stomach, thanking you for everything you do for him

Neuvillette

Doesn’t really think about having kids

You have the Melusine, and when he briefly considers having kids he quickly decides it’s a bad idea

Prepares to tell you as much if you bring it up, he’s a dragon who knows how that would work if it could at all

Well surprise surprise, it does

He’s worried all throughout your first pregnancy, but it winds up being fairly similar to a human pregnancy

You’ve always been on the same page that you’d like kids, it was really just the pregnancy that had him worried

So you two are happy with one

Neuvillette comes home from work one evening, and you greet him at the entrance with a kiss

Before he can call out to your kid, then come running in and he picks them up to kiss them on the cheek

Then they insist he kiss their sibling, and his brain stops working

He thought his senses were overacting, but no if your little one thought the same

Give his brain a second to restart, then it starts raining really hard outside

Happy tears of course, nothing could make him happier than knowing you’re about to have another little one

And this time he’ll be less panicky during the pregnancy, so he can enjoy the moments more

[shadesoflsk]

BLANCA NAVIDAD

pairing: leon kennedy x fem reader.

summary: Leon never liked Christmas. Memories of him being taken away from his parents and countless missions made him a bitter man. However, he wouldn't have guessed that one day, he would be placing Christmas stockings with a wife and a little bundle of joy next to him.

warnings: Mostly fluff, dad leon, mentions of injuries, alcohol problems, Leon being an orphan, mild hurt (nothing bad I swear) so cheesy and sappy.

"to give up one's very self – to think only of others – how to bring the greatest happiness to others – that is the true meaning of Christmas."

The sounds of boxes being moved filled your living room. It’s the first week of December, and both of you have postponed the task of adorning your house with Christmas stuff until now. Between Leon’s job and your newfound activity (taking care of your 1 year old daughter) it’s been nearly impossible to find enough time to dedicate yourself to this special holiday. 

Leon had told you it was more than okay if you wanted to do it by yourself. He knew how much you love this holiday. And ever since halloween ended, you found yourself eager to buy even more stuff to fill your home with. Nonetheless, you waited for your husband. There was no way you would let this opportunity slip away.

And, as you walked into the living room carrying a box albeit Leon’s constant bickering about how you shouldn’t lift heavy things, your heart melted at the sight of Leon placing a christmas hat on you guys’ daughter, which was too big on her and partially covered her sight.

“Da-da” With the baby on his hip, Leon was once again trying to teach his daughter how to say his “name.” It all started with a simple joke about him being the favorite parent, but now it has turned into a serious situation, at least for him. He wanted his daughter to master the art of speaking before Christmas. Although he has noticed that his little one barely said anything else than babbling nonsense. She was almost there, those bwaaah would turn into dada, he was sure.

She had none of that, though. As soon as Leon started talking, she laughed. As if he was telling her the funniest joke ever. Your daughter had heart eyes for both of you, but you had to admit it – she was definitely a daddy's girl. The way her eyes get so big whenever she sees Leon, and how her tiny fingers wrap around his thumb each time he's feeding her – yeah, she loves her dad.

He was an expert in fatherhood. He had no recollection of ever taking care of kids before. But, as soon as his little girl was born, the father's instincts kicked in. The way her cries filled the hospital room made him want to turn off the world for a second and give his daughter and wife a well-deserved moment of peace.

However, he never thought his life would get so lucky that he would get to experience being a dad. Ever since he was born, he was surrounded by disaster and misfortune. Having to grow up at an orphanage wasn't the most ideal place to mold a child into a perfect human being, but it seems that the little time he had spent with his parents shaped him correctly.

“Ma-ma.” You walked behind Leon and placed a hand on his other hip. Your baby instantly kicked her little feet in excitement for seeing her mom. Maybe she's a mama's girl, too.

“Hey! She was almost saying dada.” Leon feigned disappointment as you tried luring your daughter into saying mama first. This was a competition between you and Leon. Which prize will be having the satisfaction of being the “favorite parent.”

“Yeah of course. My bad.” You chuckled, voice filled with sarcasm knowing that your daughter has been the laziest of babies. Most 1 year old babies already say mama or dad. Or both. Yet this little rascal just likes existing, eating, sleeping, and exploring.

Leon saw you carrying a box and sighed in mild disappointment. You could already hear him saying “I told you not to carry heavy things.” Ever since you recovered from surgery, he has gotten even more doting. Every need of you was met by the second, and you wouldn't complain, but you're still a functional adult who can actually lift boxes.

You remember when things didn't used to be like this. In the past, you weren't instantly devoted and whipped for the man that is now teaching your daughter how to say dada. You remember how your past self leaned over the counter, you were met by an usual reek of alcohol this man had. And, with a witty and drunk smile, he said his usual line.

“Another bottle here.” It was his third one that night. Not his third glass, his third bottle. He was slowly killing his liver and himself by the way kept drowning in this deadly and burning liquid. You had never met him before, but the way his dark blue eyes sometimes shone under the dim light, you knew he once was someone important. Or at least, someone needed.

“That would be your third one tonight.” You stated matter-of-factly. However, Leon didn't miss the way you refused to move and get him his booze. 

“Look at that… Smarty knows her numbers. Aren't you so, so clever?” The disdain in his voice had reached your ears. He was never the talkative client, he just spent all of his nights at your bar and drank to his heart's content. You know you shouldn't stick your nose in someone else's business yet you couldn't bear nor allow him to basically kill himself in front of you.

“Now can you please shut up and serve me another bottle.” He groaned as the empty bottle almost fell from the counter. His heavy eyelids almost closing if it wasn't from the fact that after the words he spat, you threw a glass of water to his face.

“You don't fucking talk to me like that.” Your usual warm and easy going self was long forgotten. No matter how many hardships and problems he may have, there was no way you would let him walk all over you like that. “I don't know what fucked up things you have experienced or how many people have betrayed you. But if you have time to drown yourself in this addiction and be mad about it, you also have time to make a change.”

Those words stuck with him. He knew he was being pathetic, Chris, Rebecca, hell even Claire had told him the same thing too. But he felt even more miserable when a random bartender called him out like that. Especially when you just needed to complete your job. Why would someone care? He pays, he gets his booze, repeat. But, you at least cared, even though it was something every rational human would do.

Eventually, his daily dose of booze decreased. You witnessed the small changes in him. Going from three bottles to just one, and to finally a few glasses. You witnessed how his usual dark clothes were replaced with a somewhat more colorful attire which brought out his once dull and empty blue eyes.

His slender frame slowly took form, recovering his muscles which were more visible now. His stubble remained, though. It was like a reminder of his own age – and his now different approach in life. Wiser and more careful with his own decisions. Your words didn't completely change him, but they surely helped him to see his life in another light.

Ultimately, a new Leon set foot in your bar. He was beaten up, his navy blue shirt had some blood spots while his dark brown hair was disheveled. He smelled like sweat and gunpowder. “If you ever need a tour guide in San Francisco let me know.” He said with a charming smile as you moved around your area of work. 

“I'll keep that in mind. What can I get you?” You chuckled as you went to retrieve his order. You could already hear him say it.

“Grape juice...” 

“And your number.”

Soft whines pulled you back from your trance as your babygirl grips on Leon's shirt. She wipes her face against the fabric. The little one was starting to get fuzzy since nap time had come. 

“Oh, someone is sleepy.” He coos, bringing her closer to his chest. Leon takes off the little Christmas hat that was on her head. Immediately, the little one brings her hand to her hair. She has picked up the habit to caress her own hair when falling asleep. Before she even gets to cry, Leon rocks her to sleep. His deep voice soothes her, the gentle tunes of a Christmas song was his choice of the day.

“May your days be merry and bright and may all your christmases be white.” Leon wasn’t the best of the singers but he would sing his heart out to his daughter. It was a tradition now since Leon never had someone to sing to him. The baby calmed down at a comical rate, as if she just needed her dad’s embrace to feel safe. She was safe. As long as Leon lives, you and his miracle would have the best life ever.

“I’m almost jealous, she falls asleep so fast with you.” You set down the box, stretching your arms. This is the first box out of so many, you weren’t the biggest spender nor a shopaholic but when you married Leon, some perks came with him. Those perks included having unlimited access to his black card which you use wisely. 

Wisely was an understatement, though. Having several copies of the same gingerbread man who dances every time you press a button wasn’t the wisest decision. But you and your daughter love it so Leon has to shut up. Everything for his family.

In the past, Christmas was a simple but dreadful date. He didn’t understand the point of it. When he was a rookie cop, he at least tried to force some polite smiles and give words of affirmations to his colleagues back at the police academy. He stupidly thought that once he got to work, his life would change. But the universe had other plans for him that night in September. He spent that year’s Christmas wishing to die. The government had taken away his right to end his life. Dying wasn't an option. The girl he saved back in Raccoon City, Sherry, needed him. 

Year after year, he grew resentful, angry and bitter. He expected to spend this holiday alone until his last days of life. Having to grow old and wither away, no one to care, no one who would remember him as a human and not a machine. Not the government’s lap dog.

But somehow, he met you. He was a dick at first, he knew it. Until this day, he never understood how you could choose him.  There was no guarantee he wouldn’t go back to his addiction one day. He vowed to never do it again, and he was sure to keep his promise. However, you could never know the extent of his words. You lived –at least to Leon– uncertain of how long he would be sober. But much to his dismay (or pleasure) you gave a chance to that renewed man, to that agent who had come from a mission in San Francisco that almost got him killed.

He was content with just you. He never asked for more, scared of being too greedy, too wishful. Your presence was enough for him, your smile made all of his problems go away. Your tender words were the medicine for his broken and beaten up heart, every last bit of self hatred went away with you. There was nothing else he wanted.

Until he realized that maybe, he could have the life he had always wanted.

When you announced you were expecting, Leon couldn’t show his happiness at first. He was scared. Hell, he even had to take a deep breath before telling you something. He never had a father, well he had one but his memories are too foggy. He grew up thinking kids were a mistake and that somehow, he was a mistake, too. 

He found himself slipping into the unborn baby's room when you were asleep. Watching how both of you have decorated the space where your little one will be welcomed. His fingers grazed over the white crib, already imagining what his daughter would look like. He likes to think he looks like his own mother, a blurry memory of her blonde hair swaying with the wind. His daughter will have a better life than his. He's going to fight for it.

His eyes would travel over your body. He knew how anatomy worked but watching it before his eyes was so extraordinary. Your little miracle was safely tucked inside of your belly. He has always known you were beautiful but damn – it seems that motherhood suits you a little too well. He was grateful, really grateful. You gave him the opportunity to indulge in the normal and domestic kind of life. 

“She's already asleep.” Your sweet voice called him, bringing him back to the present. While he was reminiscing about the past, the baby had already fallen asleep. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder as she breathed softly. Her tiny fingers still gripping his shirt.

“She's so lazy.” Leon whispered, his voice filled with softness and lighthearted teasing. He gently laid her on the couch, making sure to place some pillows around her in case she moved. A welcomed and soothing silence surrounded your still not decorated room. This was the perfect opportunity to start your Christmas task.

“You know… Now you can help me put up the countless decorations we have in these boxes.” You chuckled as you placed your hand on Leon’s cheek, your thumb grazing against the growing stubble. You loved moments like this where the only thing that lingered in the air was normalcy and harmony, no missions, no worries, just a happy family. 

“I’ll help you if you promise you won’t judge my artistic side.” His lips turned into a sly smirk before he pressed soft kisses against your lips. A sweet yet sincere demonstration of love. He always worries he’s not enough. You play your role as wife and mother, so he ought to be the best husband and father he can be while also balancing his job life. No bioweapon could compare with the fear of losing his own little family because of himself.

Time seems to fly when you’re surrounded with love, Leon lives by that saying. You both decided to put up the tree first since that’s the most arduous task to complete. It takes you almost an hour between placing the ornaments in the correct place and Leon being scolded because he can’t match colors even if his life depended on it. 

“Now big boy, you gotta put the star at the top.” You crossed your arms as Leon placed the last ornament on the tree. It wasn’t the best tree, especially since Leon didn’t give any artistic advice on his side. Some colors looked rather odd combined with others, but Leon thought it was abstract.

Almost inaudible babblings made you turn around and found your baby already awake. She was playing by herself, her hands reaching for the ceiling. You had to admit it – she was sometimes an angel. She easily entertained herself and barely cried. 

You reached for her and walked toward the tree. Now her fingers tried to grab the Christmas ornaments. The colors reflecting on her blue eyes – that she got from Leon. By the way she kept babbling nonsense it almost looked like she was talking.

“Huh? Right I told your mom that too but she didn’t like the idea.” Leon acted like he understood what the little one was saying. And she also engaged in the conversation, two people against your own ideas.

For a few minutes, you focused on your daughter and how amazed she seems to be with everything. In her own world, that tree was the most wonderful thing she had ever seen.

But out of nowhere, both of you looked back at Leon who was sniffing and gently sobbing in front of the tree.

“Sorry, sorry…” He chuckled before wiping away some of the tears that continued falling without stopping. He then waved his hand dismissively, expecting you to drop the subject. Now he had two pairs of eyes intensely looking at him, yours and your baby’s.

After a short while of him trying to keep his tears of joy at bay, he eventually spoke once again.

“Thank you. For… For this.” A gentle smile formed in his face as he opened his arms. You wasted no time to welcome the hug. Now, the three of you were in front of the Christmas tree. The babbling, the sobs, and the soothing music in the background formed a domestic and warm scene. Full of love, emotions, and devotion. His thank you conveyed so much more than just merely words of gratitude. Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for believing in me, and thank you for marrying me and thank you for giving me the family I never had. He wanted to say those things, but he remained silent. He knew you would understand the meaning behind his simple thank you.

He would have never expected something like this. He had always thought he was doomed from the start. That his life would be about saving others and never being saved. But he was saved, and he will always be saved.

His daughter’s hands reached for his face, her fingers grabbing his cheeks and nose. Leon obliged, moving his face closer. Nothing out of the ordinary. Until her lips moved on her own.

“Dada!”

He will never shut up now.

[l-in-the-light]

About his "trigger warnings"

I mentioned here on tumblr that I used to have a number one favourite book writer. I guess not anymore. After all the SA allegations and other stories that got leaked by people around him (his collegues, co-workers etc.), I realized he's an abusive asshole and I owe you all to say that openly here. And some of the assaults date back decades now, which means he didn't just wake up one day and changed into an asshole, he most likely was always one.

I read the foreword to his book Trigger Warning again. I feel like I took a peek beyond his fake persona there. He writes about trigger warnings like it's some exotic curious little trend that kids on the internet came up with, finds it a bit peculiar like a daddy trying to understand their kid's hobbies, then proceeds to use them like a funny teasers for his short stories ("can you find the big tentacle hidden among the pages somewhere?"), only to finish it all up with a punch straight to your face: real life doesn't have trigger warnings, so always watch out for yourself. On the surface level? This all sounds like a slightly misguided, maybe even witty intro. Nothing is said with malice, right? And yet, the message underneath it all was always to discredit trigger warnings as a concept. That's why that delivery line is at the very end of that intro. You're supposed to be lulled into agreeing how silly it all is. I dunno if he did it on purpose or did it without thinking much about it, by habit, but that intention is there and it's disguised with concern and attempts to sound kind. A peek beyond the nice guy mask. No wonder I could never finish that anthology of short stories. The cognitive dissonance caused by the foreword sticked with me like a bad aftertaste. My intuition told me this was all wrong, I just couldn't find the words to express it.

And you know why it works so well as a disguise and why we tend to believe he didn't do it on purpose? Because hey, he just said the facts, the truth! Reality indeed doesn't have any trigger warnings, what's wrong with saying that! Yes, that statement is true. Using real statements in carefully woven context to sell a lie, is an example of an excellent manipulation. So allow me to untangle it or, in other words, to reveal the magic trick behind it.

Why do trigger warnings exist? Isn't Gaiman right, aren't they counterproductive, you might think, because by avoiding triggers you will never get better at dealing with them? Indeed, here's the catch, because the answer isn't a simple yes or no here. Yes, often to recover from trauma, you need to expose yourself to it in some way - like for example, through exposure therapy (or even just classic psychotherapy). But also No, because there's no rule that says you will officially recover only after you're fine reading fiction about sexual assault (for example)! Some triggers will dimnish, some will not, and the best you can do for the latter is to avoid them altogether. Triggers are extremely personal, but you can learn to manage them, in ways that respect your own boundaries, but never by giving up your right to selfcare. You see the difference?

Back to therapy bit for a moment. To recover, often you need to go through with it. But here's the thing - you do it in *controlled environment*, accompanied by a specialist that is there to help and calm you down afterwards. And you only start to do that once you feel *ready* to face it. Now compare it to a situation of reading a book (yes, a book, which usually never has any trigger warnings, because that's such a silly fanfiction thing). You come upon your trigger without any warning, preparation or support around you, you're left with the aftermath of possible panic attack or other symptoms completely on your own. It might take you weeks to recover from it, because perhaps you weren't yet in any therapy that could help you manage your triggers more effectively. But then you tell yourself it's fine, minimizing your own emotional reactions, because *it was just a book*. But, you realize, even years later you still remember it and you might finally accept the harsh truth that you're still not fine with it.

Now imagine same situation, but the book did have trigger warnings listed. For example, about sexual abuse. You would see that and leave the bookstore without the book, because you would know you're not *ready* for that. And it's fine not to be ready, be it yet or ever. This is about consent and selfcare, both are essential to process through trauma and recover. The books without trigger warnings rob selfcare, consent and a choice from us. They teach us we should always ignore our triggers and push through. It's sadly a reality that is widely accepted so Gaiman is right, nothing in reality will flash you a warning. But he's also wrong: it doesn't mean we can't make the life a tiny bit easier for those of us who are traumatized, instead of leaving them with all of that on their very own. This part, he doesn't want you to even consider. He doesn't want you to imagine the positive side of living in a world in which real books warn you about triggers, because then it would prove that it *can* become a reality in which real things (like books) warn you of triggers. They can't shield you from everything, but that's also not the point: it's just to make some things feel more safe, for everybody.

(As a side note, being triggered is not the same as stepping outside your comfort zone - those are two different matters! Though yes, stepping outside your comfort zone in an extreme way CAN become traumatic as the result as well).

I guess Neil Gaiman just thinks some people are too sensitive and should just get over themselves. You don't need those warnings, they won't protect you anyway. Have you tried not getting traumatized? How dare you think your selfcare is more important than reading my questionable fantasies? You're missing out if you skip my book (that has no proper trigger warnings) and you have only yourself to blame! I provide you a safe environment to explore your traumatic triggers, you should be grateful! And how is your book providing a safe environment exactly, author? Did you even try to put a safety net there for your reader? Do you even care? Of course you don't. But you will pretend like you do: by providing a very ingenuine effort that is mostly meant to be a pat on your own back for cleverly dismissing the very concept of trigger warnings, while pretending to play along with it and exposing their lack of power in the process. Disguised as a coincidence, lack of understanding or unskillful attempt written by a slightly ignorant daddy-like figure. What an irony that you do it by nearly surgically focusing on the blind spots of the concept, proving at the same time you do know the mechanism behind it pretty well. You knew what you were doing and how you were doing it.

Or at least, this is how I see it: I might be wrong on the details, but I'm sure I caught the gist of the manipulative behaviour there. An abuser always wants you to step out of your comfort zone, get surprised by a trigger, and to make sure you're outside your safety net. Because then you're an easier target, more likely to agree to harmful things (be it real actions or just harmful beliefs delivered to you by the author of a book, like in case of *trigger warnings being pointless*). They want to groom you into thinking that you're just being silly and see things that aren't there.

Trigger Warning's foreword is exactly that and I feel disgusted, now that I finally recognize my own feelings about it. I probably didn't find words for it before, because I wanted to believe Gaiman had good intentions behind it, they just didn't work out very well. Except that was never the case and that's why it never felt right. That good intention was never there, but it sure *looked* like it was. Also it took me way too long to realize people do things like that on purpose. You know what, Gaiman? Thanks to gaslighting efforts like yours it took me also way too many years to accept that selfcare IS OKAY.

So many people now think nothing was ever genuine about Neil Gaiman because his nice guy mask slipped. A mask he used to hide his autism behind and appear neurotypical/feel accepted thanks to it. Whenever a really advanced mask like that slips, the cognitive dissonance becomes a huge gap between a mask and actual self in perception of other people. Still, your autism is not an excuse for things you do and say, and definitely doesn't excuse assault as simple miscommunication - and yes, he did try to justify lack of consent this way. "I'm autistic, I read the body language wrong and wasn't even aware of it". Hey, you could have, like, asked. There's no shame in getting confirmation in words :P but it's just a poor excuse anyway, the truth is he didn't care if it was wanted or not, as long as he got adoration and powertripping thrill out of that, and that's the best case scenario here.

I believe the allegations. I won't be able to read Gaiman's books anymore, I honestly can't see them the same way I used to anymore. I loved Coraline and The Graveyard Book, and Smoke and Mirrors. I feel disgusted knowing that he openly claimed to be a feminist while at the same time assaulted so many people and used emotional manipulation so they won't #metoo him. He even went as far as to claim "always believe the victims", but once the allegations flew his way, what did he do? Blamed the victims, even called them mentally ill! I also feel now like his books are also just full of deception, meant to hide harmful beliefs under quirky words and imaginative tales. And I might never be able to stop feeling this way and I don't owe him a second chance anyway.

Good Omens stays in my heart though, because sir Terry Pratchett put a lot of work into it and it shows. I feel like I would show him disrespect if I discarded it. Let's say it becomes a Gaiman Who Might Have Been But Never Was, for me.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Similar fic idea to One Step Three Steps, but instead of some random Hatake brat being zapped into modern Konoha from the very early days of the village, it was actually the at the time Hatake Clan Head.

I'm gonna go with the Hatake family tree I tossed into Chasing Shadows for fun, meaning a) the clan head is named Haruka, and b) she's Sakumo's mother (thus Kakashi's grandmother) and Tobirama's aunt

She died very shortly after Tobirama (like a week tops) and the rest of her clan was wiped out pretty soon after her.

(Sakumo was raised by the only other survivor of the clan, an old grandma with poor memory who hadn't been in any state to fight, and who later passed away when Sakumo was still pretty young— so he learned very little about their clan and their traditions, and then passed on even less to Kakashi before he died)

I have literally nothing else for her other than the above, so I guess we'll figure out her character together as we go along

With that said, this is gonna be a long one, so buckle in for

✨️ The Hatake clan head time travels from early to modern Konoha ��️

Immediately, there's just so much potential pretty much anywhere you drop her into the timeline.

Lets take her from the very first years of Konoha, where they're still lowkey building the village and Madara is still around (bc I love the drama of the time traveler respecting Madara only for the future people to be like "oooo... ok, so bad news actually— Also, you legally aren't allowed to talk good about him for military dictatorship reasons, sorry :(" )

And then we're gonna drop her into kid Kakashi era, with Sakumo still being alive

Right off the bat -> That's Sakumo's fucking mom!!!! Holy shit you guys!!! The last time she saw him he was like a literal infant she JUST recovered from birthing AND NOW HES A WHOLE MAN!!!!

Shes grabbing him by the cheeks squishing him to death, there may be baby talk involved (he's a grown man let him go oh my god??)

If she comes before his mission gone wrong, her presence prevents him from going on it (disaster averted,,, for now) He's currently in the running for most likely to become next Hokage and she's so disgustingly proud holy shit. Her baby!!! Hokage!!!

Maybe have some talk about how that'd make either 3 or 2 Hatake's in office depending on if you count Hashirama as a Hatake (Haruka does not) and how that's kind of bad, right? Only Haruka doesn't give a SHIT about that (politicians hate her and shed hate them too if she didn't enjoy making them suffer so much)

"But Haruka, as clan head aren't you a politician too by default?"

"Haha yeah!! Isn't that awful? (For all of them)"

If she comes AFTER the dreaded mission gone wrong, Haruka is all about backing up his decision (the Hatake are a clan who emphasize loyalty like no other, which is also part of why they took to Konoha's mentality so well)

Shes telling Sakumo he did the right thing and fuck literally everyone who says otherwise. Trust your momma Sakumo, she knows best

Her being there averts Sakumo's death— either bc she manages to keep him going, or bc she interrupts him mid suicide

(I can see Sakumo trying to go through with it specifically bc he thinks at least Kakashi has Haruka now once he's gone)

Also oh my god SAKUMO YOU HAD A BABY??? SHE HAS A GRANDBABY???? AWWW CMERE LITTLE GUY LET GRANDMA GIVE YOU A SMOOCH— OHHH SAKUMO LOOK AT HOW HE STABBED ME OHH WHAT A GOOD BOY, WHAT A CUTE BABY BOY!! CMERE BABY— OHH SAKUMO LOOK HES BITING ME AWWW THATS SO CUTE!! WHOS A GOOD GRANDBABY?? WHOS A GOOD GRANDBABY?? (said like she's talking to a fucking dog)

Kakashi kind of hates her.

There's like a whole big bit about the Hatake clan bloodline limit, which is sort of general wolfy stuff, enhanced senses, some extra strength, etc. And my all-time favorite take, adaptation ✨️

Their white chakra is super flexible, able to adapt and change to fit pretty much any situation —or even other bloodline limits. (Which is why Kakashi not only survived the sharingan implant but came to arguably master it)

Anyways -> other than the white chakra (which neither Sakumo or Kakashi know the details of other than it's their family chakra and its,, white. Exciting, I know), their bloodline limit seems to have borderline dissapeared with Kakashi and Sakumo, due to basically them not knowing how to feed into it / activley supressing it to conform to polite society (unaware that certain impulses aren't actually just intrusive thoughts but actual instinct trying to get them to do things necessary to feed into and reawakened their bloodline limit)

Kakashi actually shows more hints of still having it bc of his age, while Sakumo is very well practiced in accidentally supressing it to conform with general society.

So obviously, Haruka is like "hey guys!! What the actual fuck is this!!" and immediatley (borderline desperatley) trying to get them back to her perceived normal

She's actually REALLY fucked up about all this. Her own son!! Her own grandbaby!! And they don't even eat enough MEAT!!!! This is an actual nightmare, this is like basic baby stuff all the Hatake's should know and she's getting nothing but blank looks and vuagley ashamed guilty stares from Sakumo as she asks if he even takes Kakashi on hunts (he didn't even know that was a thing he should be doing.)

Don't even get her started when she learns Sakumo isn't acting as clan head on the Konoha clan council, holy shit. The Hatake might be a clan of 2 now but they were among the first clans to come to Konoha— she doesn't give a shit how many of them are left, if the number is more than 1 then there better be a fucking representative of theirs on that goddamn council

Funny bit where Kakashi tries to bite someone and Sakumo is telling him to stop bc jesus christ child can you behave for 5 seconds oh god he's so sorry— and Haruka is like, why are you telling him to stop??? This is enrichment for him :)) if there's no blood it's fine, that's the official clan policy for dealing with kids

Haruka... isn't actually a very good choice to leave as your babysitter. If nothing is on fire and no one is dead she considers herself successful.

Sakumo will learn this. In time.

Mmmm bad ending where Sakumo goes through with the suicide. Could be very fun and fucked up n dramatic.

Kakashi doesn't find his father's body first bc Haruka does— or maybe he does but Haruka walks in right behind him and forces him to close his eyes before he can actually see the body.

Fun scene where Haruka is physically wrestling Kakashi away from his father's body, a hand over his eyes as he screams and claws at her, demanding that she let go and let him see his dad.

Can't she smell the blood!? Tou-san is hurt, he needs help! What are you doing!!? Let him go!! Tou-san, Tou-san, where are you? Why aren't you answering?!

He bites her hand in his struggles, so deep that it later scars (just another reminder of the day, oh boy !!)

Haruka getting hit by the fucking brick of reality, straight in the face. She got to meet her son, the only survivor of their clan from her era, just in time for him to die <3

The fic then takes a HARD turn from the silly fluffy fun times of Haruka goofing around telling people to suck her dick if they have a problem with her (which a lot of people definitely do)

-> Right into shinobi politics, political schemes and sabotaged missions and buried clan history galore territory. Haruka isn't ab to take this lying down and everyone's about to get their first look at a grieving Hatake mother in her prime who just lost her baby to the shinobi rumor mill

Before she was kind of keeping to herself just having fun in the clan compound, not reeeally getting involved with any politics or village shit, bc like, she's playing with her family!! This is like her vacation till the time travel is solved and she goes back home!!

But she's not doing that anymore.

Sakumo is gone and Haruka is more than willing to take the seat he chose to leave empty at the clan council. She's about to become EVERYONES problem.

In the bg, Kakashi VIOLENTLY swings between fucking hating Haruka ("You should have stopped him! You should have been there! You should have helped!") to being like, physically unable to be unatached from her (she's waking up in the middle of the night to find him suddenly burrowed into her blankets, holding on to her like he's scared she'll dissapear when he wakes up)

Small soft scene where he's sleeping on top of her and quietly whispers that he's sorry for biting her.

Haruka possibly tries to have Kakashi temporarily drop his training but it's a very hard battle to fight. Both bc Kakashi wants to fight and bc Konoha wants him to fight

Uhh first big scary Haruka politics scene when she puts her foot down and says something along the lines of, "are you telling me here and now that my word as Hatake clan head is not enough to stop Konoha from taking away my child?" And Sarutobi kind of has to back down bc that does NOT fly well with the other clans

Obito and Rin swing by and try to pry at why Kakashi can't fight and she just fucking stares at them and goes, "He's 6."

She goes home and puts her head in her fucking hands. She was promised Konoha was to keep the kids SAFE, that's the entire fucking reason the Hatake agreed to join!!! This is not safe Tobirama, you bitch!!!!! If they send out Kakashi to die, shes going to find your fucking ghost and grind your face into Kakashi's grave!!!!

Anyways, time for my favorite part: politics

Haruka is coming from the early days of Konoha, where the only reason the Hatake even joined the village was, "because my cute little nephew (Tobirama) asked us real nice"

In her mind, she and her clan are still allowed to back the fuck up out of the village whenever she so chooses. She likes it in Konoha, yeah, but they're still free reign nomads and while she'd like to stay and have her clan flourish (which they didn't exactly do and she can literally SEE the way the village destroyed them from the inside out) she and her clan retain the right to leave whenever they want. And if they do leave, other than losing the new friends, it won't exactly be hard on them to get back to the nomad life.

All of that is to say that Sarutobi isn't her Hokage and while she'll be nice and respectful bc she recognizes the position (and her position) when push comes to shove, there's literally nothing they can hold on her to make her bend or break.

Also the last time she saw Sarutobi he was one of her nephews little brat tag-alongs, and she's so fucking bad at treating people their age, doubly so if she knew them as a kid.

It's,,, kind of demeaning actually, she should stop. (She will not.)

Anyways: play into her not just being Tobirama's aunt but also Hashirama's (her sister was their mother) which becomes fun bc Kakashi is her fucking grandkid!! Meaning he's also their fucking cousin!! Politics!! Implications!!!

At least one person is making a "of fucking course the boy genius is related to one of them" joke but like in an angry way (it's probably Obito)

Anyways I started this off with basically nothing for Haruka other than her name and I think she accidentally turned into a real character along the way (inevitable tbh)

Shes a DEEPLY flawed person actually, which I kind of love. She has a habit of belittling people and not treating them their age (absoloutley calls everyone even slightly younger than her 'kid')

Her views of childcare are totally skewed and she should not be trusted with any children other than Kakashi (it's ok he's literally built different, she can provide proper enrichment for him)

Edit: I DIDNT FUCKING MEAN TO POST THIS YET IM GONNA KILL MYSELF I WAS STILL QRITING IM GONNA END IT ALL TUMBLR I HATE YOU I HATE YOU

Shes so fucking full of herself and about to make it EVERYONES problem

[sapchat]

We Are Not Our Fathers

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You get summoned to your mate and Cassian whilst they are on a mission, only to find out there was a surprise at the end of it.

Warnings: mentions of a fight, children, and an argument between two lovers.

Words: 5k

Part 1: You are here! Part 2

Fun fact: this is technically my third fanfic now, cuz I’ve got a part one for something else and I’m writing part two, I just got this idea yesterday while listening to this playlist and was like “I need angst, azriel, his mate and a child.”

Azriel and Cassian had been at one of the Illyrian camps investigating rumors of… something. You hadn’t been paying attention when your mate told you why, he’d been getting dressed while telling. So, you could see the distraction at the time. It had been at least two hours since your mate had left and you got summoned down the bond, and a shadow seemed to tug at your hand.

So, following the bond you appeared in a typical Illyrian Steppes living room, with Azriel at the top of the steps.

“Hey, we uh, need you up here. We thought we were done but Cass found someone.” Azriel said meeting me at the bottom of the steps and grabbing a hand, rubbing his fingers on my wrist. He picked the habit up a few years into our bond, he says it keeps him grounded, especially after or during missions like these. Nodding my head, I followed the narrow steps behind him to see Cassian standing in the doorway of one of the rooms, there was a smidge of blood on the side of a wall, so I wasn’t sure what I was going to walk in on.

A little winged child was not what I was expecting. Cassian looked at me sheepishly then nodded to the side so the three of us could talk.

“So, I’m going to assume we didn’t know there was a child here?” I asked leaning against the wall.

“From what we could tell there were no reports of a child when we first started getting reports of the retaliation happening. My shadows also didn’t pick up on a child when we got here, so either he was just hiding really well because of the guests in the house, or he snuck in.” Azriel responded.

“Any idea how much he heard? Or what does his parental situation look like?” I asked, I needed to know how bad this situation could be. Especially if this child doesn’t have a family because of its father’s or mother’s choices.

“For the most part, some of them went easy. Only three of ‘em put up any real fight, hence some of the blood there by your head,” Cassian started.

“Ew, thanks for telling me that one.” I’ll just shuffle to the side.

“As for a possible guardian, he hasn’t answered any questions. He did call me a bastard though, so I guess he has listened to something while around them.” Cassian finished. He seemed almost more stressed than I. I assume because he’s become quite partial to being babysitter for Nyx in the last few months for Feyre and Rhysand to be able to go out.

“What do you think, he’s probably what four, maybe five. You have more experience in working with kids, and with Madja, what do you think his outcome is with what he’s been dealt.” Azriel asked, dragging a scarred hand down his face.

“All children are different. One could experience something awful like the death of a parent and not remember anything about it. Others could never recover from it and grow up acting out the rest of their lives. It’s just a matter of how they get help. And knowing this camp, they probably won’t get much mental help at all. You two should know that” It’s not what they wanted to hear I imagine, but it was the truth. “So, what’s the plan? I assume if you have summoned me here you want me to go talk to him?”

“Yea actually, that’s exactly what so thanks for offering that so we don’t have to ask.” Cassian states rubbing the back of his head. Little shit.

Sighing, I turn my eyes to my mates, who just shrugged. I’ve been left here with the two most awkward people when it comes to random kids. Such a surprise came from the man-child Cassian himself. I roll my eyes, but send something to calm down the bond, and turn to go into the room.

The child is on the smaller side, evidence of the winter that’s still in the mountains so it’s evident his family doesn’t have much money for food. He’s got some dirt on his clothes so he’s either been out playing today or he just doesn’t have many clothing options. His wings were on the smaller side for what we assume his age group is, so he either is just going to have slightly smaller wings, or he’s developmentally delayed for his possible age. Probably due to the lack of food and hygiene.

I step slowly into the room, trying to make my slightly tall frame smaller. “Hi there. What’s your name?”

The little boy looked at me with wide hazel eyes, a twinkle in it that I couldn’t tell meant he was scared or intrigued by my presence. “Hawthorne.”

“Hawthorne huh?” You ask, then tell him your name, “Are you okay Hawthorne?” I ask him, he sits up just a little taller, a twitch in his bat-like wing following after.

He nodded his head in response, and I nodded back in understanding. “I was wondering who you were here with buddy? It’s okay if I call you buddy, right?”

“I was with my daddy. and I don’t know if you can call me buddy. Daddy’s usually the only one that does. Daddy said it’s cause we’re friends, but I don’t know you.” He answers sheepishly looking around my body towards the end, telling me I have a shadow, likely two of them.

“Well, if I tell you something about me, and then you tell me something, then we would be friends, wouldn’t we?” He hesitates, thinking about the question then nods his head quickly.

“Okay, well you know my name already,” I say then move to sit on the corner of the bed and make it seem like I’m thinking about my fact, “One of my favorite things ever, is getting to go and watch the sunrise or sunset as it comes up or down, and it shine on the soft snow. It’s really pretty.” I say, his head perks up a little at what I tell him.

“I like that too! I also like it when it storms, 'cause that means I don’t have to go out and I get to stay inside with my daddy.” He says. I smile at his enthusiasm of getting to share something we both like.

“I’ll tell you another secret then.” His eyes get really wide, and I feel a questioning brush through the bond. “I also like it when it storms. Because that means I get to stay inside with my friends.”

“Are they your friends?” Hawthorne asks looking at Cassian and Azriel behind me.

“Yeah, those are my really good friends, Cassian and Azriel. They… came to talk to the people that were downstairs. Did you know them?” I ask, glancing at the two males behind me, who are trying to seem small, but with the size of Cassian and Azriel’s wings. They’re failing.

“It was my daddy and their friends. I heard lots of yelling. And that they called your friends bastards. So, I did when they came up here. Where is my daddy?” I looked at Azriel for an answer, he looked down and then at Hawthorne.

“We took your father somewhere so we could talk with them. Do you have a mother we could take you to? Or anyone else.” Azriel answered the child.

Hawthorne shook his head no, “Daddy says mommy died when I was little, even smaller than now. And daddy says I’m the only thing he has left. But I think that’s silly 'cause we have neighbors!”

I sigh and look at my mate and Cassian, I then look back to the hallway and back to the child, “Hawthorn I’m going to go talk with my friends really quick, are you okay here?” The boy nods his head and watches as the three of us leave the room.

It’s now my turn to rub my hands down my face. “What do we do with him? I assume mom either died in childbirth or from sickness. And now we’ve got dad where he’s going to probably be punished for what they’ve been planning.”

Cassian almost winces at the last part, “His father was one of the people to put up a fight. We’ve got him in Hewn City right now, one of the others said he’s the ring leader for wanting to try and get rid of Rhys, and ‘go back to the old ways.’”

“Gotta love males and their ever-needing reason to be on top,” Azriel said laying back against the wall across from me, one of his feet resting between my ankles.

“We asked Rhys what he thought. He thinks it should be up to you.” Cassian said.

I processed the question for a second. Thinking about the options that are available. If Hawthorne stays, he’ll be homeless, wandering the streets like Cassian did; and based on how he looks already, he probably wouldn’t last long. Or taking him with us. To Velaris and trying to find him a place there. He could stay in the House of Wind until we find somewhere or someone.

I look at Azriel and he nods, knowing what I’m going to decide. If I had it my way, there would be no children wandering the roads here in the camps. But the orphanage idea has been slow, Devlon the only one wanting to even entertain the idea.

“Take him with us. He’ll be better off in Velaris, and until we can find somewhere permanent, he can stay in the House with us all.” I say, Cassian nods knowing I’m making the decision based on what he’s told me of his past before Rhys and his mother.

“Looks like you’ll get a friend Cassian, I’ll be sure to set up playdates.” Azriel says pushing off the way and patting his brother on the back.

Cassian had a shocked look on his face, eyes following Azriel as he followed me back into the room Hawthorne was patiently waiting in.

“Hey, Hawthorne? How about you come with me and my friends for a little bit, until we can see if your father gets into trouble, okay?” I asked going in and sitting on his bed, angling my body to be eye level with the winged boy. He seemed to sit and think about it for a second, then spared Azriel a questioning look before looking back at me.

“Will I still get to do my training?”

My eyes widen just a tad. Training at five? I look over my shoulder to Cassian and Azriel in question.

“Yeah me, and Cassian can help with that. We’re both really going at flying so we can help you learn some.” Azriel told the child, putting a lot of emphasis on them being so good at flying. This seemed to make the boy happy.

“Okay then. I guess I’ll come with you. But I get to bring my toys!”

“We wouldn’t expect you to leave them behind buddy. Now where are your clothes?” I said standing from the bed and ruffling my fingers through his dark brown almost black hair.

Hawthorne jumped from the bed, his little wings flapping as he did, and ran to the dresser in the corner of the room. He pulled open a drawer almost at eye level and grabbed what little clothes sat in there. “Here they are!” He ran back over and handed them to me. He only had two shirts and another pair of pants, plus only a few pairs of undergarments.

I looked in the direction of my mate and he nodded at what I was thinking. We’ll have to get him some more clothes. I held my hand out and Azriel summoned a bag from the shadows and handed it to me. I usually use it for the farmers market, but I’ll just get a new one.

“Okay, bubs, come here and I’ll hold you while Azriel takes us back to the house.” The boy hopped over with a questioning look on his face.

“He’s going to fly both of us to your house?”

“Nope! He’s going to do something called winnow, which means,” I sat for a second thinking how to explain this to a child, “he’ll grab my and Cassian's hand, and then we’ll disappear and then reappear in the house!” Yeah, that was a great explanation.

Hawthorne seemed to question it for a second, then came over and all but crawled up into my arms. I moved the bag to my shoulder and then joined Azriel and Cassian. The three of us all looked at each other as if questioning what I’d decided.

And into the shadows we went, only for Azriel to then grab onto me tighter to glide us down to the balcony of the House of Wind. Hawthorne gripped my neck tighter looking around at all he could see of Velaris. And I knew I had made a good decision for the boy.

Feet touching the ground Hawthorne all but leaped from my arms to run and look over the balcony, pulling himself up by using his feet on the spindles to gain leverage to look out. Mouth opening by the second, I leaned back against Az watching the boy. He’s never seen so many people at once living in such a beautiful place.

“Hawthorne, wanna go get a quick snack before we get you cleaned up in a tub?” I asked leaving my mates front to join the boy at the railing. He looked up at me with wide eyes before looking back out towards the Sidra. “It’ll all still be here when we’re done. And if you’re not tired then you can even see it once the sun goes down. It looks even better.” He turned back with a slightly toothless grin and nodded enthusiastically, jumping from the side, and gripping my hand swinging from it.

Walking into the sitting room I walked the boy towards the kitchen. Already sitting on the counter was a little dinner for the boy, the House instantly knowing what was needed of it. I helped him up onto a stool he quickly dug into his dinner.

“Easy now, don’t want to eat too fast and make yourself sick,” I advised brushing a finger across his back. I walked around the counter and grabbed a small cup and filled it with water so he could drink as well.

Once he was done eating, he quickly gulped down the water and brushed his mouth on his hand, then proceeded to wipe the hand on his shirt. Boys. I grabbed him before he had a chance to run off and walked him up to mine and Azriel’s bathing room where Az sat pouring a few drops of bubbles into the bath.

I set Hawthorne down on the ground and allowed him to undress so he could climb in the bath and gave my mate a quick peck on the cheek in thanks. Admiration flowed down his side of the bond as I leaned over and started wetting Hawthorne’s hair. He splashed around a little playing with the bubbles as I washed the grime off of him.

Once I was done, I grinned and grabbed a handful of bubbles and placed them on his head. The little Illyrian quickly looked up at me and proceeded to grin. And without a moment's notice he flapped his wings in the water spraying water all over me.

We both sat in silence for a little bit, me in shock and him with a look that said, ‘Uh oh’. Then I started laughing, and Hawthorne quickly realized he wasn’t in trouble for getting water over me.

After his bath, and the fight of drying him off, and the battle of getting him dressed. I did as I had promised and walked him back to one of the balconies so he could watch the ending of the sunset and all the lights of Velaris come on. We sat quickly, him in amazement, me writing down some reports to send to Rhys in the morning.

It was in the middle of the night I was awoken to one of Azriels shadows, Azriel rousing from sleep himself and moving a wing off of me to see what was happening. Then I heard soft padding down the hall, and a shuffling of wings. I then heard the door move a bit as someone jumped and grabbed the doorknob, and the door quietly moved open.

Raising our heads, we were greeted with Hawthorne sniffling as he waddled into the room. He looked up at the two of us from the foot of the bed, glancing back and forth. I glanced at Azriel and silently asked if he’d allow the boy in the bed with us.

Azriel looked at me, then flopped back on his stomach and grumbled “Once you feed them and let them sleep in the bed, they end up staying. Look at Cass.”

I lightly slapped his arm and raised up more and nodded to my side of the bed. Hawthorne quickly shuffled over and climbed his way into the bed and my arms. “Wanna talk about it?” I quietly asked.

He shook his head and placed his wet face into my neck. I hummed an okay and moved the blankets back over us and went back to sleep, Azriel’s wing shifting back over as he moved around.

In the morning I awoke to an empty bed, not unusual with Az doing morning training, but I distinctly remember a little boy crawling into the bed in the night as well.  

Climbing out of bed, a shadow greeted me happily and started leading me in the direction of the living room; and was greeted by Cassian holding the boy in the air telling him to get ready, and Azriel sat in a chair drinking tea.

“If he breaks something Cassian, you get to tell Rhys.” I said, walking further into the room and joining Azriel on the armrest, his hand wrapping around my hip and patting it. Azriel tilted his head in a way saying, ‘That’ll be fun’ and went back to his morning readings.

“Hey, we learn to fly by being dropped from different heights, I figured you prefer it in the living room, where he could land on the couch.” The general replied, letting go of the boy and allowing him to flap-glide his way to the couch in question.

I let the two continue and looked down to my mate, “Wanna join me in the kitchen, so we could talk about H-A-W-T-H-O-R-N-E’s F-A-T-H-E-R?” He nodded his head and took my hand to lead me in the direction of said room. Already on the counter was my breakfast, courtesy of the house which I thanked, and a steaming glass of coffee.

“I went earlier this morning. He’s not wanting to give us anything. Rhys wants to make an example of them.” Azriel said going straight to the point. I looked up from putting jam on my toast, my eyes trailing to the sounds of the child’s laughter and Cassians' praise.

“What about Hawthorne?”

Azriel sighed, already knowing I wasn’t going to let this go without a fight. Either with him or our High Lord. “Rhys is going to leave that up to you. His recommendation thought was to find someplace around Velaris so he wouldn’t be in a camp where issues may arise in the future. When he’s older.”

I looked sharply up at what he said. “What is that supposed to mean?” I made sure to keep my voice somewhat low so as to not raise attention to us.

“We both know what he means. He’s just trying to cover future bases because he has Nyx now.” Azriel tried to calm down, resting a hand on top of mine. I pulled it back from him immediately.

“No Azriel I don’t know what you mean. He’s a child what are you two trying to say?” I was angry. He’s five, if that. What was there to possibly worry about to ‘keep an eye on him in the future.’

Azriel said your name then continued, “His father was plotting to get a group of people to kill Rhys. Maybe worse.” Azriel almost seemed angry at the position I had taken, in defending this threat against his High Lord. But the threat was a child.

I glared at Azriel and all but snarled when I said, “Sons are NOT their fathers Azriel. You of all people should know that.” I even pointed in his direction for emphasis on my statement, his hazel eyes going wide in surprise at it. Shock and hurt flowed down the bond, and I pushed my feelings of anger towards him.

Turning I leave my breakfast to go join Cassian and the deemed threat in the other room to watch him stretch his wings.

It was later in the evening, after playing with the child and having Cassian take us down to the shopping district so he could have more clothes that I had finally let myself think about the argument from earlier in the day. I had already put Hawthorne to bed almost two hours ago and was down in the kitchen sipping wine. Setting the glass down on the counter I ran my hands down my face in frustration, and then came some shuffling.

Turning my head, I expected Azriel but found Hawthorne. Bleary-eyed from what little sleep he got. “Hey, what are you doing back up, it’s late.”

The little dark-haired child rubbed his eyes, his other hand gripping a little black cat stuffed animal he begged to have. “I have trouble sleeping in the bed. It’s super soft.” His eyebrows furrowed together and then he said, “The shadows also keep me awake by playing with my hair.”

A few of Azriel’s shadows had taken a little liking to the boy, much unlike their master, it seemed. “Well. Since you’re awake, want some hot chocolate?” I asked, the boy seemed confused at my words and asked what hot chocolate was. “Hot cocoa?” He shook his head in confusion again.

“Come on, I’ll make us some cups and you can try it,” I said lifting him up to sit on the counter and wiped my finger at some of the dried drool on his cheek.

Turning to a cabinet, I grabbed two mugs to set beside him and continued to pull supplies out to make the cocoa. Hawthorne watched every move I made, measuring out the ingredients, putting them into a pot to warm up, and even helping stir every now and then. Once it was done, I moved it over to the side to allow it to cool a bit more before putting the drink into the mugs.

“Now here’s the fun part. I like to add some extra things to mine.”

Hawthorne seemed interested in whatever it was I was going to add.

“I like to take this white stuff, called whipped cream, and put it on top, then add this stuff here called cinnamon. Do you wanna try mine and see if you like it for yours?” I asked, Hawthorne seemed to think deeply about it, furrowed eyebrows, and all then eagerly nodded his head. I carefully handed him my cup and he took a little sip, whip cream getting on his upper lip and nose, then made a loud ‘ahh’ sound after gulping it down.

“I’d like some please!” The boy eagerly handed my mug back and watched me add it to his smaller mug.

We sat side by side sipping at our drinks, Hawthorne’s eyes drooping more and more as he drank before he set his almost empty mug on the counter and yawned.

“Ready to go back to bed?” He seemed a little hesitant and then said something that broke my heart.

“I don’t wanna sleep by myself, I’m scared someone’s going to come and get me.” He didn’t want to make eye contact.

I looked at him a little inquisitively, “Why do you think someone’s coming to get you?”

“Well, I really liked being with Daddy, even if I didn’t get much food. And then you guys came and took my daddy and me, because daddy was being bad. But you have been really nice, and Cassin has been helping me fly, and even though Azzie don’t like me he still lets me play with his shadows, and you guys have food and it’s warm-“ I stopped him before he could continue working himself up.

“Hawthorne, you don’t have to go back to the camp if you don’t want to. You know that right?” I said rubbing his hand in a comforting way.

He seemed sheepish as he nodded then asked, “I would get to stay here with you? And Cassin and Azzie?”

I sighed trying to think of an answer, “I don’t know if you’d get to stay with us. You could go to another place that would love you very much.”

Hawthorne didn’t like that answer. Tears forming in his little hazel eyes, lips wobbling, and I knew I needed to backtrack.

“Hey, how about this buddy?” He sniffed and ran a hand over his eye, “How about we pause this conversation, and me and you go sleep? Then we can talk when I get some answers.” Answers only the Inner Circle could answer.

It took Hawthorne only 20 minutes to fall back to sleep in his room and me another hour lying beside Azriel. It was early morning when I awoke to Azriel getting up himself.

“Think you could call a meeting about little bits?” I asked rubbing my hands down my face.

Azriel sighed and sat back in the bed beside me. “You shouldn’t get attached to him; you know that. And it’s not that I think that he’s going to become his father or that I hate him. I heard you guys’ last night, and what you both talked about.” He sat there for a second licking his lips as I cringed knowing he heard us, “I do like him. He’s a sweet kid, and I’m glad he’s had a better life than most Illyrians-”

I stopped him, “I didn’t mean what I said yesterday. I know you’re not your father and I should’ve never. Ever. Compared you to him.”

“I know. You were angry and believed you had to defend him. I’m proud of you for that. But if you really want to discuss what happens with him, then I think we should talk.” Azriel said, grabbing my hand and holding it as he laid back across my stomach.

I nodded, and we started talking. About all outcomes for Hawthorne. What would happen to him, how he’d be raised, all of it. Then we went to the River House. And I joined the Inner Circle as we talked about him. Rhysand’s concerns, Amren’s and Mor’s surprise, Feyre’s support in what would happen, and how it would all be dealt with.

At the end we had an answer.

It was later in the day that I asked Hawthorne if he wanted to go walk around town with Azriel. I was slowly walking behind as Azriel walked somewhat awkwardly with the boy, talking with him as Hawthorne was eagerly pointing around at different shops.

Hawthorne’s eyes widened and grabbed Azriels’ hand, the older Illyrian tensing up at the innocent little child grabbing his scarred hands and dragged him over to a bakery to press his face into the window and stare at the sweets.

“Can we go in there?” Hawthorne asked eagerly looking between Azriel and me. Azriel looked to me for some guidance, letting me control the situation. Nodding my head, Azriel led the three of us into the bakery and let the boy pick what he wanted and got me my favorite treat too.

I led Hawthorne back outside so we could eat, take in the sights, and talk to Hawthorne like we needed to.

“Hey Hawthrone, remember the conversation from last night? Can me and Azriel talk to you about it?” Hawthrone seemed more downtrodden at the reminder of last night but nodded his head.

“Hawthorne, I got to visit your dad before we left, and I just wanted you to know that he isn’t going to be able to come home. And because of that, we need to find you a good home.” Azriel started out, not telling the boy his father wasn’t going to come home. Rhys did have to make an example and couldn’t just pardon him because he had a son.

“Azriel and I have been talking with some people, and we’re wondering what you want to do,” I said, handing the boy a napkin to clean his face as he ate. He glanced between Azriel and me, then down at the table.

“Where would I go if Daddy can’t take me?” he asked shyly.

“Well, we could find you a loving home here, in the city. Where you would be cared for and get to learn all kinds of things with kids your age and everything. Another choice is we find you a home back at your camp, somewhere that’d be able to care for you, and you’d get to be with other Illyrians your age.” Hawthorne seemed to think the two options over. Then Azriel looked at me and I nodded.

“Or” Azriel started, “You could stay with us, and we could raise you. Then you’d stay with Cassian and us, get to meet the High Lord and Lady, and all our friends, while going to school here in Velaris. And in a few years, we’d take you to a camp called Windhaven and you’d train to be a warrior.” Hawthorne’s eyes got wider and wider as Azriel continued, looking back and forth between us two, his grin starting to match mine.

“So. Which would yo-“ Azriel didn’t finish as the tiny Illyrian lunged over the table into both of us.

“YOU I WANNA STAY WITH YOU!” Hawthorne yelled excitedly, gripping the both of us as I laughed.

Azriel looked at me, love flowing down the bond and him receiving the same back from me at the new addition to the family.

[beifong-brainrot]

The Gaang being 'bad parents' didn't ruin their characters.

I've seen this argument tossed around a couple times and it's honestly one of my least favourite criticisms of lok.

Katara (and Sokka but we have no confirmed kids for him, which seems unrealistic with how much game he had) lost their mother as children and their father was forced to abandon them when they were barely starting their teens. They were raised by their grandmother with little to no peers of their own age.

Aang did not know his parents and a huge chunk of his childhood was him being groomed into taking up the mantle of the avatar and mastering airbending. He also was isolated from other kids his age. His closest parental figure was Gyatso who was more of a teacher than a father. Also the Air Nomads were literally wiped out so that adds to the trauma pile.

I really don't think i have to talk about Zuko's family life here, but at least he had relatively positive parental figures in the form of Ursa (though i do have a burning personal dislike of ursa) and Iroh. Despite this his struggle around the subject of his family and his trauma relating to his upbringing was a focal point of his character arc.

Toph was raised in isolation by her asshole abelist parents who did not listen to her, sent people to capture and bring her back and then disowned her. (If my cursory understanding of 'the rift' is correct, I need to actually read it because i am unreasonably obsessed with the Beifong family.)

Where, pray tell, were they supposed to learn proper parenting skills? On their brief stint as child soldiers? While fighting a war as literal children?

There is the argument that they must've matured later in their lives, of course. But you can only recover so much from copious amounts of childhood trauma.

Being a bad parent doesn't necessarily make you a bad person. Sure it makes you a failure in an incredibly delicate and important aspect of human life but it doesn't make you a bad person. And saying that it does takes a lot of nuance out of the conversation.

Like, do you know how easy it is to fuck up a child?

Especially that the ways the members of the Gaang 'fucked up' as parents feel mostly in character.

Bumi was going to face some struggles with self worth due to being the firstborn child of the Avatar and arguably one of the most powerful waterbenders in history, while being a nonbender himself. That much was unavoidable, no matter how his parents approached the issue.

And Aang was obviously going to be over the moon when Tenzin was born. Think about it. He's literally the last of his people. He has no one else 'like him'. No one else to pass down the traditions, the teachings that Gyatso and everyone else he cared about and who were horrifically murdered to. Aang is getting older and he feels like his culture and history and his entire life before he got trapped in that damned iceberg will die along with him. And then Tenzin is born and Tenzin can take up the mantle that had been thrust upon Aang.

I'm going to withhold my judgement on Izumi and Zuko, since we barely know anything about them. She seems well adjusted but that's all i can say right now. But Zuko has also been shown to be extremely, painfully aware of how fucked up his family is and has clearly been putting in a lot of work to unscrew what his ancestors have screwed up.

Toph situation feels very tragic to me,because it's obvious that she thought she thought she was doing better than her parents. She gave her daughters the freedom to do what they want, to not feel opressed and trapped like she had. How was she supposed to know that she was making her girls feel like she didn't love them? (Here's another post of mine about the Beifong family and how they just feel like they're cursed or something at this point.)

TLDR; I get annoyed by people saying that the Gaang being 'bad parents' ruined their characters, because to me it felt like it actually enhanced them.

Neither Aang nor Toph acted out of malice or a lack of love. On the contrary, Toph was trying not to repeat her parents mistakes, accidentally committing a bunch of her own. While Aang probably didn't even realise that he was neglecting Kya and Bumi.

But just loving your children doesn't always make you a good parent.

I think these flaws only add to them as characters. It makes them feel more real.

It's unrealistic and, frankly, just plain boring to go 'oh the Gaang were all good people so they would be good parents too.'

The Gaang were a gaggle of traumatised children forced into saving the world, because the adults around them failed them, that then grew into traumatised adults who have no idea how to be good parents.

[llamaisllama777]

THE DAILY*/WEEKLY* LAES, TSAMS, EAPS Review!!!

Been a bit since I last did this so let's get a move on.

👏 So,... Sun's broken... again. It's probably worse this time around. He just had to kill his own brother. To make it even worse, he had to kill the brother who actually showed he cared for him... that's... that's not something you walk away from without a few scars.

Plus to make it worse they got lost in Dark Sun's castle and had to walk past Nexus' melted remains....

5 TIMES!!!!

5 times! You can not tell Dark Sun didn't at least realize that would happen. I'm not saying he built the castle that way, so it would happen, BUT.... this is Dark Sun, we're talking about.

[Edit: They might not have actually walked past his body five times. I may have misinterpreted something Moon said, but they still might have, so I'm imagine that cause it's funny and traumatizing]

When they get back home, Sun immediately goes upstairs to process everything, and from how he sounded, he's definitely 6 the verge of tears, if not a full-blown mental breakdown.... and Moon just dips. Sort of. He goes to his lab to track down Dark Sun and Ruin. Moon, your brother just had to kill his other brother. I know, and I am proud of you for admitting you aren't the best with emotions, and you wish you could help Sun emotionally but can't, and that's fine... BUT you can't just walk away when your brother desperately needs you right now. You didn't even need to say anything. Just go up there and sit next to him. Be the shoulder he can cry on. Worry about Ruin and Dark Sun later. Solar was the real mvp of this episode. He was the first to call out Moon on his rather apathetic actions. He was the first to comfort Sun, and come to think of it, he might be the ONLY person to comfort Sun in this episode. So, good on you, Solar. M.V.P!

The thumbnail really captures how differently the three are taking Nexus' death.

Sun is shattered.

Solar is trying to comfort him.

And Moon is moving on to the next threat.

Just... PERFECT! 👌

Okay.... Sun is still broken. Like, he's really REALLY messed up. So, Sun asks Earth and Lunar to take care of Dazzle while he tries to recover mentally. Lunar and Earth are really owning the uncle and auntie status. You both are just a wonderful tag team when it comes to taking care of kids.

Lunar called her Doedrop. Awwww! 😊🥺😭 That's so stinkin' cute!

Doedrop!

OH, YOU SON OF A...!

Ruin, look, mate, I'm glad you survived and that Nexus didn't rip your head off...

YOU GOT A LOT OF NERVE COMING HERE!

Eclipse and Puppet handled this situation a lot better than I thought they would have. Huh. Character growth.

Also, Ruin, I really don't believe you're the only reason why Nexus didn't come after F.C. I just don't think Nexus thought of that. Also...

It was you! You killed Nexus!

Okay, so, remember this episode...

Ruin asked Solar if he could borrow a very small propane tank...

Remember that? Guess what he did with that propane tank?

He put it in Nexus! He made a makeshift bomb that was supposed to go off once it was hit by a blast of positive star power, but Sun's magic triggered it instead. So, does that mean Sun killed Nexus, or Ruin killed Nexus or both of them? Like, who's more at fault here?

Point is Ruin, Thank you for killing Nexus, but you also traumatized Sun, so.... ya.

Oh, also, the astrals MIGHT be coming here soon, or this place has their own astrals, which is still bad.

Oh, also, they found the other Foxy, and he's still in the Pizza-plex Eclipse chased him, but he got away... so, Puppet, F.C., Foxy.. watch out.

Amazing and traumatizing episodes

10/10!

[starryhologram]

CCCC Band AU Master Post

AKA I made a crack AU where Heart, Mind, and Soul become famous. But now, it’s a more serious and loved AU.

Disclaimer: Like the SCP AU, the HMS in this AU exist in the “real world” as opposed to a psyche/headspace. When the Whole splits, the three replace him. Also, warnings of canon typical v10l3nc3. These versions of Heart, Mind and Soul have been caricaturized, and are fun house mirror versions of their album/canon counterparts. Hope you like if you read!

Heart takes his g. un, the same one he missed Mind with, and he places it to the back of Soul’s head.

“Soul.” Heart bites the other’s name hard. Spits it out with disgust. Soul feels the cold metal press against his skull. They were truly going to usurp him. He didn’t think it would end like this.

“Heart. Please. Put the gu. n down.” He begs, eyes sliding over to where Mind watches from a distance. His face unreadable, Soul wishes he would help.

“Shut the fuck up.” Heart jams the barrel against Soul, knocking him slightly forward.

Should he fight? Continue to beg?

“You can threaten to kill us all but I can’t return the sentiment?!” Heart shouts.

Should he let it happen?

His blood goes cold as he hears the trigger shake in Heart’s grip.

BANG.

Soul falls to the ground.

Heart steps back, dropping the g. un.

Mind walks over to Soul and puts his hand against his neck. “He’s still alive.” He comments.

“That’s fine, I wasn’t trying to kill him, anyways.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

Heart doesn’t say anything in return.

Mind sighs, shaking his head. Best to let Soul recover, then. He wasn’t going to be the one to put him out of his misery, and he had a feeling Heart wouldn’t either.

Mind picks up Soul’s limp body gingerly, his head dripping blood onto his hands. Seeing his face, the skin had torn around where the bullet had exited. Soul’s eye was completely gone.

It was morbid, but Mind continued to carry the other to his room, laying him down on the bed. A few moments later, Heart shuffled in, shoving first aid supplies into Mind’s hands.

“Like this will help.” Mind says sarcastically. Regardless, he begins bandaging up the side of Soul’s face.

The computer in the corner of the room dings with a notification.

“Ugh. I thought we turned those off.” Heart frowned.

“We did, but I kept them on for emails. Stand with him, I’ll see if it’s important.” Mind moves to the desktop, jiggling the mouse to turn it on.

“No way this is real.” He scoffs after a few moments.

“What? What does it say?” Heart demands impatiently.

Mind reads out the contents of the email for the other.

“You’re kidding. Do some background research! Look it up!” Heart raised his voice frantically.

After a few more moments of key strokes mouse clicking, Mind turns back to Heart. “It’s real. What do we say? Should we decline? Accept? This is a very big decision.” He glances at Soul once again. “And honestly, he should decide too.”

“We could let Whole decide.” Heart offers meekly.

“You shot Soul, Whole is probably out of commission as well. We will have to wait. I will let them know to give us time to make the decision.”

Over the course of the next few days, Soul floated in and out of consciousness, the pain in his head ebbing and flowing. He wished he could have had nice dreams, but it was dark and hazy. Something haunted him about how he had gotten hurt. Mind and Heart refused to tell him, and Soul couldn’t bring himself to remember.

The bright side of his dull situation, however, was that Mind and Heart were being so nice to him. They gave him warm food in bed as he recovered, and even spared him from sarcastic quips. He wishes it could always be like this, getting along.

Eventually, Soul was able to remain conscious for a longer amount of time. And Mind and Heart finally decided to tell him once he proved cognizant enough.

“Soul.” Mind announced as he entered the other’s room, Heart trailing in his shadow.

Soul smiled at the other two. “Good morning.” He said softly, his voice had been nothing but kind to them in return these past few days.

“We have to tell you something. And we need… you to help us decide.” Heart stammers, “On what to do about it.” He walked over to stand at the foot of the bed.

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?” Soul asks.

“While you were… recovering. We received an email.” Mind began, sitting at the desktop once more to pull up the page.

“It reads as follows.

‘Dear Tridential Sovereignty, us at Galaxy Star Records have recently found your music and think you have just the talent we’ve been looking for.

We are pleased to offer to sign you as one of our many talented artists. We would be honored to represent you, and help you reach your full star potential.

Kindly, Galaxy Star Records. LA, California.’ “

Mind turns to look at Soul once more. His mouth is agape in shock. “We’ve been offered a record deal?” He asks in disbelief.

“It would seem so.” Mind replies.

“Of course we should go for it!” He exclaims. Mind and Heart almost seem surprised by his answer.

“Uhm.. are you sure? This is crazy.” Heart digs his toe into the carpet absentmindedly.

“I mean, this can only be good right? As long as its reputable! What could go wrong?” Soul looks like he got everything he could have ever wanted for Christmas.

~~~

A man tears himself apart in the dead of night

Grasping at lyrics that aren't quite right

But you’ve head this before

And I’ll never again

Because the spotlight is blinding

And the audience is screaming my name

Please don’t let me lose myself in the fame

~~~

Private Emails are uploaded. Subject: Sign On Offer From: galaxystarrecords@contact.com To: tridentialsovereignty@gmail.com

Thank you so much for accepting our proposal! We can’t wait to start working with you!

First order of business we do need to get settled is the contract. You can access it here, and we will need all of your E-signatures.

Next you can also take a look at a list of preordained names that you can choose to go by as per our guidelines. Your band will still be called Tridential Sovereignty under us, but your individual names will be pseudonyms (No real popstar doesn’t have a stage name!).

You can view our list below.

Luna

Callisto

Oberon

Nova

Kepler

Aristarchus

Metius

Tycho

Voib

Pulsar

Orion

Asteroid

Comet

Thebit

Nebula

Rigel

Quasar

Antimar (antimatter)

[File attachment contract.pdf]

~~~

Private Emails are uploaded. Subject: RE: Sign On Offer From: galaxystarrecords@contact.com To: tridentialsovereignty@gmail.com

Apologies, there was a misspelling in the list of names.

Voib is meant to be Void.

Thank you.

~~~

BREAKING NEWS! Introducing TRIDENTIAL SOVEREIGNTY! VIX NEWS keeps you updated with up and coming artists that you should be aware of!

Your favorite niche internet micro-celebrities become famous! Who would have thought their covers of cult classic Tally Hall songs would have skyrocketed their stardom?

Meet Comet, Nova, and Pulsar! The ‘Heart, Mind, and Soul’- they call themselves- of Tridential Sovereignty. Sweeping the globe with their new music to rock your socks off!

Recently signed on by Galaxy Star Records, after an interested team heard their individual covers of “The Mind Electric” by ミラクルミュージカル (also known as Miracle Musical). These young artists are rising through the charts, and concerts are selling out fast internationally!

We here at VIX NEWS are excited to see where they go from here! Follow us for more updates on Tridential Sovereignty!

~~~

A video titled ‘Late Nite Show Interview with TRIDENTIAL SOVEREIGHNTY’ is uploaded.

The video opens with a studio audience cheering as the host waves at them thankfully, smiling warmly.

“Good evening ladies, gentlemen and other lovely people! We have a special guest for you tonight- at their first television appearance- Tidential Sovereignty!”

The host gestures to curtains that three figures emerge from, the one in a red jacket is waving and smiling just as much as the host was. The two following him are much less enthused.

The crowd cheers as they walk across the stage to sit at a long couch adjacent to the seat the host had taken.

“Thank you so much for joining us this evening!” The hosts says, “Yeah! Thank you for having us!” The one in red responds.

“Now, you guys have been taking the scene by absolute storm- ahaha, pun not intended.” The hosts pauses for the audience to laugh. “But, I’d love to get to know you guys a bit more. You guys all look very similar, is that intentional? Or are you guys triplets?” He asks.

“Triplets is the closest word.” The one in blue states plainly. “Ah yeah! We’re all kind of like brothers, sure.” The one in red adds.

“What interesting responses!” The host laughs. “Now, Pulsar,” he gestures to the one in red, “You call yourself the Soul? What does that mean?”

Pulsar’s smile doesnt faze, but his eyes scan to his other two counterparts nervously. “Yeah, I’m like the Soul… its just… a way of referring to myself, like Nova is the Mind- eh the brains of it all. And Comet is the Heart, you get it? It’s just… the way we make up the Whole… band. Tridential Sovereignty.” He stammers out quickly.

Comet shoves him.

The host is laughing again. “Well that’s certainly a way of thinking about it!” He says, and it eases Pulsar’s nerves. “You guys were pretty popular on the internet at first, right? How’s the transition from the screen to the stage been?”

“It’s been fine, we still do all the main stuff behind the scenes; the music writing and stuff. But seeing fans in real life? Cheering for us on stage? I… don’t think any of us could have imagined it. We assumed we would be stuck in our mom’s basement doing this for a niche audience for our whole career, honestly.” Comet replies.

“It’s crazy how quick things can change!” The host quips, “Hey! Would you guys like to play a song for us?” He asks, the crowd cheers in enthusiasm.

The three nod in agreement, stand up and make their way over to instruments set up for them. Pulsar stands at the middle mic, holding an electric guitar. Nova stands at an electronic keyboard. A blue bass is propped up next to him. Comet sits down at a drum set.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between, this is Tridential Sovereignty!” The host announces as the three begin to play.

Pictured: (left) Pulsar with no make up, wig or mask, in casual clothes. (Right) Pulsar within the first few months of rising to stardom, before his outfits became more pink.

~~~

A video titled ‘VIX NEWS: Exclusive interview with TRIDENTIAL SOVEREIGNTY FT. Your questions!’

The video opens with Pulsar, red wig, feathered boa and pink dress in all, sitting on a stool in a white room. He smiles, introducing himself, “Hi, babes! I’m Pulsar, but you know that!” He laughs

The camera cuts to Nova, sitting in the same room, but clearly shot at a different time than Pulsar’s takes. He sits square and upright and says, “Hello. I’m Nova, of Tridential Sovereignty.”

The video cuts again to Comet, slouching on the stool. He waves meekly to the camera. “Hey, I’m Comet.” He says flatly.

A voice from behind the camera calls out, “So, we sent out a form for fans of your’s to ask! And here are the ones we thought would be best to ask you guys!”

“How exciting!” Pulsar claps his hands together. “What’s the first question?”

“Your-claimed- ‘Number one fan’, Pulsar, asks: what is your favorite song?” The voice off screen laughs aloud as she reads it.

“Oh, I have so many favorites, you know! But I think a special one in my heart will always be The Bidding.” He says.

“Nova, an unnamed fan asks ‘if you could go solo, would you?”

“Hm. I do shows on my own often enough. If you mean officially leave Tridential Sovereignty one day? That is yet to be determined.” Nova’s face shows no change in expression as he answers.

“Comet, Rio asks ‘if you could change anything about your life now, what would it be?”

Comet barks out a laugh and then frowns as he collects himself. “Right. Yeah. I mean, is anyone really happy with where they are? I messed up a lot in the past but I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t. Dunno. I don’t think I care anymore anyways.”

“Pulsar, Twine- of course-?” The announcer sounds confused as she says the name. “Do you have a PR team yet?”

“What? Twine? How did… how did you get that question?” Pulsar’s brow furrows in shock and confusion, “That’s a joke… right? I think. Ah, yeah. A joke.” He laughs unconvincingly.

“Nova, what do you do when you encounter writer’s block? From Hayley.”

“I simply don’t. If I don’t feel like writing, I don’t write. Let it come to me. I know what I write is good.”

“Comet, Jedas asks ‘what is your favorite show you’ve performed at?”

“The VMAs were cool. Or the Bubble Dome. I dunno, as long as the crowds are big they’re always great.” He grins.

“Pulsar, Ciddle asks ‘care to show us what’s behind the mask?”

Pulsar puts a hand up to his mask, holding it down to his cheek. “Yeah, no. Not right now. I wear it for a reason.” He looks away.

“Nova, do you guys plan on doing another make-up collaboration? Asks Lori.”

“I think we’ve got some eyeshadow coming out soon. This is better a question for Pulsar.” Nova sighs.

“Pulsar, Faust asks, if you were a cat, what kind would you be?”

“Orange. Definitely.” Pulsar laughs.

“Nova, ‘Bold move straightening your hair, any reason?”

“It’s a wig. And it differentiates me from the other two.”

“Pulsar- or as ‘Smouul’ calls you ‘Pulss,- insert joy emote- te- tec-ah? Muciss? Teach music? Is that what this says?” The announcer struggles through the question.

“Smoul? I know him… too, like Twine. Ah Smoul! I could teach you music! All you gotta do is ask! But I also offer courses on music too! They should be linked in my Instagram bio!”

“And finally, one more for you Pulsar, from another unnamed fan, ‘Are you going to answer for your growing list of controversies?”

Pulsar frowns. “Hey, I apologized for those. And I promised to do better. That’s all I can do.” He huffs. “Are we done now?”

“Yes, I suppose we are! Thanks for joining us-.” The announcer is cut off as Pulsar gets up and walks off screen.

“Cool, thanks bye!”

The video ends.

~~~

List of things Pulsar has done

Been paid to support NFTS {a lot of other celebrities were doing it at the time! It was a cute picture of a chicken! I didnt know it was evil!}

signed a merch deal with a company that runs a sweatshop to produce the merch {Look- I’ve been over this- I even uploaded an apology video! I didnt do my research and I promise to do better!}

uploaded an apology video {Hey! My fans know that it was an honest mistake! Plus I followed the guide on how to make a good apology video! I even made one of my own guides!}

made a guide on how to make apology videos {Only 50$!}

Doesn’t have a PR Team {My PR team is my best friend, Twine, he’s a Soul like me!}

got scammed by someone in another universe than him {Alice is my friend! And he said he needed the money!}

Almost was convinced to join the Church of Scientology {I was not almost convinced it was for the celebrity gossip! But Paladin said I shouldn’t do it}

is there anything else you’ve done? {not yet- I mean, No!}

~~~

Pictured: (Fake) Tweets talking about the perceived decline of Tridential Sovereignty or #TriSov, and how their original fans dislike the way their music sounds nowadays.

~~~

Pictured: The updated outfits of Comet, Pulsar, and Nova! At this point in their career, the three dont perform together as much as they used to. Before this change, Nova would often pick up DJing Gigs around the world. But, now he performs solo songs that sound like theyre meant for Old Navy Advertisements… theres no Heart and Soul to his music, just the melody and baseline lyrics that will appeal to the widest audience.

~~~

Pictured: Nebula, the Whole. He acts as the manager and agent of Tridential Sovereignty. He isn’t seen much nowadays, some say it’s because he can’t handle what they’ve created. They took over his life. This isn’t what he wanted. This isn’t what we wanted to become. But, it’s much too late now.

~~~

OOC STUFF

ive reached the ten photo limit on mobile and ive got so much written that my tumblr is lagging. Theres still some more long written posts ill add in reblogs and such. Characters mentioned such as Twine, Smoul, Alice and Paladin belong to @disruptivevoib @shxwrunner @socialc1imb @calamarispider @b0vidine

Feel free to send asks about these guys! Or even my scp au!

All art in this post is mine

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2023: October 15th

Day 15: Boot Worship, Spanking/Flogging/Whipping/Caning, Lactation/Breastfeeding

Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Post-pregnancy, lactating, pumping, breastfeeding kink, paying to drink breast milk, drinking milk, breast play, grinding, frottage, cumming in pants

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

There are some perks to being Dieter Bravo’s assistant. As crazy as he can be and put you through stress and odd situations, he is a fairly lenient boss. When you had come to him, explaining that you wished to be a surrogate for your sister who was unable to carry a child, he was cool with it. 

Did it stop the 2AM calls because he couldn’t find his favored crocs, or didn’t remember the name of that 24-hr Mexican restaurant? No. But he let you take off for all the doctor’s appointments without too much complaint, stopped doing drugs around you since it was bad for the baby, and insisted that you have a chair on set next to his to sit down in at all times. In actuality, it was pretty sweet. 

You had planned on coming back to work right away, since the baby was immediately going to your sister from the delivery room, but Dieter had pitched a fit. Telling you that even though you didn’t have a newborn to take care of, you still needed to recover from giving birth. You had compromised, telling him that you could recover and still manage his calendar from his admittedly comfortable couch. 

You hadn’t expected the questions. Dieter is one of those enigmatic souls that there is no telling what will pique his curiosity, but you hadn’t expected it to be your breast pump. Your sister and you decided that you would pump your milk for at least the first few months, or as long as you could. 

Dieter was obsessed. Like a kid with a new toy, you found him playing with the pumps. There were two that you could wear inside your nursing bra to let you pump while you just went about your day. Removing them and draining them into the storage bags as needed and putting them right back on. 

He was staring at your breasts, frowning slightly as he looked away and then looked back at them. As if he was figuring something out. Until you realized he was trying to decide if you had the pumps on or not. He kept muttering to himself, shaking his head and walking out of the room abruptly. You would think that he was on drugs again, except you haven’t ordered any from his regular supplier in nearly two months. 

So it’s a complete surprise when you are sitting on the couch, nearly two months after you have given birth and settled back into your routines with Dieter that he plops down on the sofa beside you. “How much would I need to pay you to drink your milk?” 

Freezing, your jaw hits the ground in shock. Immediately flustered and wondering what the hell is he talking about. Drinking your milk? He wants to taste it? Pour it into his cereal? What?

“Dee, what? What the fuck are you-”

“I can’t stop thinking about it.” He groans, shuffling closer and staring at you with wide, pleading eyes before his gaze drops down to your breasts and he groans. His hand moves down to his crotch, almost covering himself like he’s trying to hide something before he grabs a pillow and shoves it in his lap. “Please, I - fuck, I’ll give you a thousand dollars. Give me….two ounces.” 

“Dieter…” 

“Two, all I’m asking for is two. The baby can spare that, right? You’ve been pumping like 80 ounces a day, right? Around that?” His tone is slightly whiny, begging like he always does when he really, really wants something. 

It shocks you that he’s aware of how many ounces of breastmilk you are pumping. That means that he’s got to be looking in the freezer. You’ve been storing it here since you are here more than your own house and having it sent over to your sister’s.

“You want to buy two ounces of my breast milk to drink?” You ask, wanting to make sure you understand what the fuck your boss is asking you. “For a thousand dollars.” 

“Two, two thousand.” Dieter ups the price, biting his lip and swallowing harshly. “A thousand dollars an ounce. Please, I know it’s weird, I know that I shouldn’t ask, but please, please just let me have some.” 

His eyes are earnest, begging you. Almost more intense than the first time he has if you would have sex with him. Finally finding something he wants more than sex. 

“I don’t know…” 

“I can’t stop thinking about it.” He rushes out, his face twisted in embarrassment but Dieter has no shame when there is something that he wants. He’s willing to humiliate himself as long as self-gratification for whatever he is obsessing over happens. “Drinking it, sipping it. Swallowing it down. Knowing that it is supposed to feed me. Feed a baby, I mean. It’s natural. The most natural food a man can have.” He justifies it, always good at finding reasons for why he needs to have what he wants. “It fucking- fuck, baby, it fucking turns me on. The idea of drinking your milk.” 

You can tell he wasn’t supposed to say that. From the way he immediately snaps his mouth shut and recoils from you, like you are going to reach out and slap him. Maybe you should slap him. It’s a slappable offense, but you aren’t. 

“Two thousand dollars, for a chance to drink two ounces of milk?” You don’t dismiss the idea, or slap him and that makes Dieter perk up. Immediately nodding, making his disheveled hair wave eagerly. 

“Yeah. Please?” He begs again. “I promise I won’t ask you to sleep with me again or go get my coffee. Ohhhh your milk in coffee.” You watch as he rolls his eyes back in his head at the thought, the pillow being crammed against his lap even more and you huff. 

“How many times have you jerked off thinking about drinking my milk, Dee?” You demand, making your boss nearly cringe at the question. 

Ducking his head and turning a range of mottled reds in mortification, he mumbles too quietly for you to hear. “- times a day.” 

“What?” 

He mumbles again. “-day.” 

“I can’t hear you.” 

“Seven or eight times a day!” Dieter finally shouts, grabbing the pillow from his lap and shoving it over his face to scream into it while your brows shoot up in surprise. You know Dieter has a high sex drive, but you never imagined he could go that many times. 

While he is having his fit, you think about it for a moment. It’s two thousand dollars and you’d rather your boss ask you to drink your milk than some random pregnant lady on the street. You wouldn’t put it past him. Despite his tendencies, Dieter is actually pretty respectful. He doesn’t push when he’s rejected and if you say no, you know that he will be disappointed but he won’t get angry. 

You aren’t wearing the pumps, thank goodness, so it’s easy to manage when you pull away the pillow from your boss's face and straddle his thighs, putting your milk filled tits in his face. 

“I- what are you-” Dieter chokes out, eyes wide and fixed on the tops of your tits, wanting to touch you but this wasn’t what he asked for. 

“You don’t want to drink straight from the source?” You ask innocently. 

The fact that you are on his lap makes you fully aware that Dieter’s cock is hard. Letting you feel the way that it jumps when you ask if he wants to drink from you. Not hiding his love of the idea even a little bit. 

He groans, tearing his eyes away from your breasts to look up into your eyes. “Yeah? Really?” He asks, still not touching you, but his hands are hovering over your hips, wanting to settle on them. “I- you would let me do that?” 

“You can’t squeeze them.” You caution. “They are tender, and sore a lot of the time. But if you want to, you can nurse, suck the milk from my tits and drink it down.” It was good timing, because you were going to have to pump anyway. 

“But I-” He seems to be completely stumped as to why you would offer more. No one ever offers more when he is desperate enough to pay for what he wants. “I’ll be careful.” He promises, leaning forward to nuzzle into your bosom and inhale the slightly milky scent of your skin. 

You feel the way he twitched under you. That admittedly impressive cock throbbing against your core in a way that you hadn’t thought about before this moment. He’s hard because of you. Because of this infatuation with your tits, your milk. 

Those hands that you had worried would be carelessly eager are almost timid. Asking if he can take off your shirt, or if you would prefer to just lower your shirt. You explain that it feels better to just lower your shirt and he quickly agrees. His fingers almost worshipful as he gently pulls your breasts out, taking your warning to heart as he positions them in his face and gets his first good look at your hard nipples and burgeoning jugs. 

“Oh god. I just want to…” he lunges forward and snuggles his face between the breasts he is holding almost reverently. Nearly motorboating you but just breathing deep. “Fuuuuuuuck.” He hisses, throbbing even more underneath you and you swear that you feel a bit of wetness transfer from his sweats to your leggings. 

You wrap your arms around him, for stability, for a lack of places to hold onto him, bringing him closer and you feel him sigh into your skin. As if he has found a place he wants to stay. 

It’s not too long before he wants more. His lips move along your skin in a surprisingly romantic scattering of kisses, as if you were his lover. 

His arms slowly slide around you as he kisses around your nipple, tilting his head down, and he groans when the warm, wetness of his lips wrap around a hard nipple to pull it into his mouth. 

Dieter’s hips rock up, grinding up into yoh and he twitches harshly when he tugs on the nipple, letting the first spurt of milk hit his tongue. His groan is so loud, almost pained, it covers the gasp that you give at the sensation.

It’s so different from the pump. Warmer, wetter. More intense as he starts to suckle eagerly. Gulping down mouthfuls of milk as fast as he can while dragging you closer, making you grind down on his cock from the movement. 

You get lost in the feeling of it all. His cock hard and throbbing under you. Pressing against your sensitive clit as your hips rock. The subtly erotic sensation of his whiskers against your skin. Eagerly letting him switch from breast to breast as he drinks you down. 

Dieter drinks more than two ounces, far more than you had agreed on, but neither one of you pulls away, even trying to stop. He’s gorging himself on the warm, slightly sweet milk in great, greedy gulps, groaning as he swallows. 

You don’t realize you are about to cum until you do. Stiffening in his arms, you push your breast into his mouth more as your back arches, a harsh cry escaping your lips. Pleasure washing over you in waves, and you don’t realize that Dieter is moaning your name. Rocking his hips up harshly to keep the friction going until he’s throbbing against your core. The warmth of his cum coating the inside of his sweats as he cums in his pants, drunk off your breast milk. 

“Holy shit.” You pant as he pulls away, milk drunk and softening underneath you as he swallows one last time. 

“Fuck, baby.” He groans. “Can we do this again tomorrow?”

[jennydwren]

My Arthur: Some Night Thoughts

In between the cancellation of The Acolyte (there's still hope, Clone Wars came back) and the premiere of Rings of Power S2 -- and I PROMISE you that each and every dudebro I blocked in these situations on the former bird app either had crypto in bio or a timeline that was entirely focused on a sports team... I mean, why not think about RDR2? I want to think what it means that so many players speak of MY Arthur, like we all have little pocket Arthurs as pets. "I like my Arthur to be a scary bad guy so I keep him shaved bald." "Well, my Arthur looks his best with Level 7 or 8 hair and a Level 1 or 2 beard." "This time I'm making sure that my Arthur has the best satchel and the Legend of the East outfit." "I always pamper my Arthur before a hard mission. I buy him a ribeye steak at a saloon, get him a bath, and let him sleep just one more night in a hotel. I feed him up to Overweight before Guarma and Chapter 6." "My Arthur is high honor. He would never do XYZ." "Oh yeah? I think my Arthur loves being low honor and beating the crap out of people." "Weird. My Arthur's favorite missions are the dinosaur bones." All of these Arthurs are different and yet the same. All of them are doomed. You have to rewind the timeline and go back to a Chapter 2 save to have a healthy Arthur who can chat and sing with his compadres at the campfire. Nobody's Arthur, until you take him out of the game and into some of the absolutely and utterly beautiful fanart and fanfics, can succeed with Mary Linton, or Charles for that matter. The R* canon Arthur is always doomed. What does it say about us that we can't bear to let go of him, even though his own dialogue tells us he clearly sees the writing on the wall as early as Chapter 1? Is it just the natural human abhorrence of the reality that we too will someday die without accomplishing all that we wanted to? I can relate. Big mood, Arthur. In fragmenting into all of these disparate Arthurs -- Roger Clark has pointed out more people own copies of the game than live in Ireland -- maybe that's how the egregore, the Arthur conjured from the collective consciousness of millions of individual players, stays alive. Many writers of fanfics want their Arthur to be theirs. Not just a rough fuck on daddy's kitchen counter, although I've read that story too, and not just the Not Enough Beds trope, though that too was a fine story. They want to smash Arthur because who doesn't? But they want him to love them, despite R* Arthur having not one single solitary relationship skill. This new Arthur teaches you to draw (the preponderance of Arthur fics I've read involve a "you" reader). Your wish that he address you as he does a mare, "That's mah good girl," comes resplendently true. Sometimes, such are the fix-him powers of You that You and he escape the gang before the name Thomas Downes can be uttered. Arthur's heart beats for You and You alone. Sometimes he protects You from danger. Sometimes he accepts a free sample of sponge cake from You in a bakery. All of these Arthurs go out Arthuring all over the wrong but familiar RDR2 America, often with You at their side. Sometimes You even find him on the cliffside before his rattling last breath, and drag him to safety and a warm, dry climate. One Arthur I read was even saved by a doctor in Mexico with the only available treatment of the period -- collapsing part of the lung -- and recovered fully, having four kids with Sadie Adler and saving most of the RDR world along the way.

You can have your Arthur and play him too. Indeed, a fresh shot of Roger Clark's bravura performance -- combined, as he is the first to point out, with the animators' work, for example giving him the most delicious lower lip -- compounds the infatuation should it threaten to recede.

People suffer profound grief over this game. Of course, it is their own grief from non-digital life: "It is Margaret you mourn for" -- Gerard Manley Hopkins. Perhaps the loss of their Arthur and the way his surviving friends gradually adjust to the loss helps people make room for the holes in their own lives. But that's the thing. That's the comfort at the bottom of the grief pit.

Because once you find your Arthur, including within yourself (I don't just mean cosplay, but I've seen people of all genders don the stained blue workshirt, the suspenders, the neckerchief, the goddamn hat, and wear Arthur on their bodies)... you can't ever really lose him. He changes you. And that may be the strangest and most wonderful thing you can say about a work of fiction.

Keep sharing your Arthurs. The chibis, the young Arthurs cradling poor Isaac or reading to child John Marston, the AUs, the low-honor black coyotes and the high-honor 14-point stags. Marthur, Charthur, Albert Mason x Arthur. All the versions of him. Because they're also You.

[sadceline]

THE ENHYPEN HOST || 1

|| Reverse harem || ft. TXT, Minggyu (Seventeen) & BTS

PAIRING: FEM OC X ENHYPEN

WARNINGS: foul language, explicit content, group sex, humiliation, sex in public, threesome, foursoome, rough sex, red flags, immoral acts, unprotected sex, morbid jealousy, comedy, parody, possessiveness, violent quarrels, arguments, betrayals, lies, femdom sometimes.

GENTRE: +18, reverse harem, comedy, enemy to lovers, friends to lovers

SUMMARY: You moved to Seoul to start over after a bad experience, and everything seems to be going well, you even manage to work for HYBE. You discover, however, that you owe them almost a billion won, money you don't have and don't know how to recover: but don't worry because Hybe itself offers you a solution.

Your body in exchange for paying off your debt.

Do you accept?

Okay, follow me for a moment!

A little context is needed to understand the dire situation in witch I find myself.

I'm a graphic designer, I was born in Campania, Italy, but I moved very early to Bologna, still in Italy but in another region, with mom and dad who are now little more than acquaintances to me, where I spent my existence until my 22nd birthday, when I moreover found out that my idiot boyfriend was cheating on me, with his cousin.

I didn't have time to feel bad about it, because I was pretty disgusted in general. However, it wasn't that I was in love with him, I simply found myself a bit lost - with the only known relatives inhabitants of small remote little cities in the Campania hinterland, who haven't seen me in at least ten years, and a failed career as an advertising graphic designer.

Unable to maintain the hectic pace of business, not to mention the harassment and constant mansplaining I was suffering, I retreated into freelancing. By being able to manage my schedule, I could also manage me, and think about the future.

For several months I contemplated going to Spain but then one of the few friends I had left at the time, after hosting me in her house for some strange reason in Sorrento (in Campania!), always kept secret from her, proposed me to leave with her for Seoul.

It was the fashion of the moment, I had heard about it, but I was too focused on self-pity to be interested in such frivolities - as a matter of fact, while we had been planning the trip for months, I got a little obsessed myself.

She likes BTS, for me too overblown, too famous. I used to focus more on the up-and-comers, there was one band in particular, it consisted of one guy who was better looking than the other, however, not being a kpop senior yet I sometimes confused them, I couldn't even pronounce their name.

So you can imagine my excitement when, just two months after moving to Seoul, I was contacted by a Hybe agent who, after looking at my portfolio found on a website, said he was pleasantly impressed and would like something in my style, for the cover of ENYPHEN's next album, that's how he pronounced it!

After I heard him say those words over the phone I was silent, not because I was thinking about it - of course I was speechless.

It had to be some scam, it had to be! There can be no such coincidence in real life.

The man emailed me his calling card, so I could look up the information on the Internet, and a place to meet.

At Hybe's headquarters.

Are you kidding me? Ester said thus. "Do you think I would let you go alone? What if he is a maniac?"

I didn't speak Korean at the time, but I knew English pretty well, so, yes, I was able to get the job, but in the end, for some reason, my illustration was used for the SIDE B of the album, completely different, official but not primary concept version. I was quite hurt at first, but then I realized that it was already absurd to be able to work with them, I really had no complaints.

Of course, we never met either BTS or ENHYPEN, although once I went alone (I couldn't always go with Ester), I saw Beomgyu from TXT who I have a very heavy crush on, although he always gave me very strange vibes. I obviously didn't even get close to him and looked at him from a distance, however, he was in a hurry anyway, so it's not certain that he would stop.

Okay, let's move on!

After the collaboration was over, I pocketed good money, we ate takeout for at least two weeks in a row, we went in clubs all the time, while every now and then I had flashbacks of my ex-boyfriend, for whom I had begun to feel a strange empathy, as if he were mentally ill. It wasn't the cousin thing as the fact that he had no need to look for a lover - we pretty much did it all the time! It was one of the few things I did well and fucking gladly!

But maybe, I wasn't good enough?

Months passed, Ester taught me Korean, which she had taught herself, and while she was having fun with a lot of guys, I had entered a new state of paralysis. After working with Hybe I expected many requests, many contacts, would come, but instead nothing. Small jobs for small activities with small monetary and psychological rewards.

I didn't do the same as Ester not because I was demure - that adjective was never a part of me - as much as because I still couldn't understand let alone speak Korean, and not everyone knew English, so sometimes it happened that I felt uncomfortable, out of place. I managed to use the time of work paralysis to engage in study, I had to have a social life too! Independently of Ester!

Eventually I decided that for ten hours a day Ester and I could communicate only in Korean, she agreed without thinking and began the experiment. After three months I was able to speak Korean almost fluently, to the point that sometimes we did not even return to speaking Italian.

I was ready to embark on enterprising and exciting multi-ethnic relationships, socializing, and trying to understand South Korea better!

I discovered that it was a terrible place.

Not so much from the foreigner's point of view, but for the Koreans themselves, all very rigid with each other and with themselves, always competing, but also misogynistic, macho, not to mention the jokes about foreign women I heard! Terrible.

Tired of South Korea, after only a year, I talked to Ester about going back-it came out as a hypothetical, after all, I was going to do what she wanted anyway. I didn't want to be alone, and she seemed happy to live with me.

She convinced me to stay a little longer, she wanted to introduce me to her official boyfriend, a good one, really, not interested exclusively in sex! Yes, they are all like that, I had experienced it myself.

Just before I could meet him, however, the two broke up. Sad for Ester who looked devastated, but underneath happy, maybe to be able to go back to Sorrento, to breathe clean air, I consoled her for a whole night, we stayed up drinking and laughing, or crying.

Before I went to bed, in the early hours of dawn, I looked at my cell phone as usual and noticed that Hybe had texted me, again!

Sleep disappeared, I went back to Ester, who had fallen asleep on the floor in the living room, and woke her up to tell her the fantastic news, fuck, I was so excited! Who was I going to work for this time? TXT? BTS? Seventeen?

Copyright violation: that was the subject line, and oddly enough, the entire email was written completely and exclusively in Korean. I was being sued on behalf of Hybe for infringing the copyright of a Pakistan artist who had in turn sued Hybe, because of my design, and won!

What great news! I had gotten incredibly good at Korean.

"Ama, are you okay? Oh, Ama? You look pale!" Ester had said, grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me.

"Hybe wants compensation of eight hundred million won," I had said, under my breath, incredulously, "that's like five hundred thousand euros."

"But you don't have it!"

"I know I don't have it."

"Then you can't give it to them, sue them!"

Yes, it would have been nice and easy but I had no idea how the law worked in Korea, and anyway I couldn't sue them because the contract I had signed had exactly one copyright clause in it. If I had in any way caused damage to the agency's image, through copyright infringement, I would have been called upon to compensate them one billion won, which however had been generously raised to eight hundred million, to make it easier for me, understand?

I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. Reach Mexico? Return to Italy? Apply for a loan? And would they grant it to me? Ester advised me to talk to them directly and look for a reasonable solution, offered to accompany me, but when we arranged to meet, they told me to show up alone, or with my lawyer, although this was not necessary because we would talk about it cordially.

I knew Korean quite well now, and inside Hybe practically everyone spoke English. I'll go alone.

I met the CEO himself, a man with round glasses and a kind, smiling, serene face, Park Jiwon. He told me to make myself comfortable and congratulated me for going without a lawyer, since what he was going to propose was best heard only by me.

"Changing the illustration from SIDE A to SIDE B, that was your greatest good fortune, wasn't it?" He had said, smiling in that gentle way that was now chilling.

"I am deeply sorry Mr. Park, I have never seen-"

"I know you can't pay - he had politely interrupted me, getting up from his desk and motioning his secretary to leave. - I'm here to offer you something beneficial, in which you'll always be safe and won't have to worry about, however, it's up to you to decide whether you'd rather return the money or not."

It's called the Jyp method.

Are you curious? This is a funny story.

Korean idols, whether male or female, are people of extreme beauty. It's unthinkable that they won't touch or let anyone touch them for years on end, but that's exactly what the fans want - who feel they are in complete control of their bodies.

Creepy, I realize, but it is quite normal in some parts of Asia.

So how can these poor boys "let off steam"?

The males are given a girl to live with them, together they can have as much fun as they want but within the limits of the host's safety and preferences.

For females it is a bit different but he still wanted to explain it to me, in fact for them multiple partners are needed and these partners do not live with them, but they can make appointments, as if they were gigolos working only for them.

The reason why this is used is because of scandals, any outside relationship cannot really be monitored by the agency. If girls and boys do not need to look for a stable partner and can simply take out their sexual desires on someone, the risk of scandal decreases significantly and their popularity is safe, as are the earnings on them.

In contrast to male guests, female guests tend to be a bit more problematic, which is why only one is usually chosen.

He makes it clear up front that it is forbidden to have relationships with idols, both parties must behave respectfully, and for any complaints from the guest, the agency will take appropriate action, so it is a completely safe situation, understand?

It is called the Jyp method because it was the CEO of the music label of the same name who invented it.

What do you care, you should do it! That's what I thought too, I mean - the band in question was really Enyphen! That way you won't have to pay for it anymore and you'll be hanging out with a lot of pretty boys! That's what you're thinking, it's obvious, really - I thought it first.

Yet to say yes, just offhand, I didn't feel like it.

Mr. Park told me to think about it calmly, giving me two days.

I talked to Ester about it; she did not give me any advice.

She just told me to read the contract well, this time, in case I wanted to accept it, but still she would not judge me, and then I could present them to her - even though I still knew nothing about how the matter was going to unfold.

Clearly I agreed, it was obvious, wasn't it? Otherwise we wouldn't be here.

NEXT CHAPTER:

[prlssprfctn]

hey! so the intro for this is weird but pls hear me out

yesterday night while walking home from a bar with friends, a group of men probably about my age (early-mid 20s) in a large truck started shouting queer slurs at us then threatened to kill me 😬

my nerves are still a little frazzled but my stupid brain is currently attempting to manage these anxieties about what happened by going “hmm I wonder how the batkids would have responded if they saw that happen”

so I was just wondering if you had any kinda headcanons or anything about how any of the batkids would handle a scenario like this :) I know this is kinda heavy haha so pls don’t feel like you gotta respond to this but I really like your writings and thought it was worth a shot to reach out and ask :) thank you!

(also, my friends and I did make a report and we’re currently talking with the civil rights division of our local gov’t about handling this case as a hate crime so we are in the midst of handling it)

oh my god, i am so sorry this happened to you. i am glad you put charges and dealing with the situation, though. be careful, and i hope you are recovering well.

Bruce, i feel like, would try to charm his way out of this at first since he doesn't need additional interent drama. maybe he will try to smile politely and go along lines like, "oh, is that supposed to be offensive?" but if the situation escalates, he will not be afraid just to fight them off. who would blame him, anyway?

i have a feeling that Dick doesn't like fighting on the streets as well, and he usually tries to escalate the fight, only ever using it as the last resort. i also think that if someone picks up on him at night, he just decides to creep out everyone by using his amazing gymnastics. like, imagine him just turning his head around like an owl, cracking bones like in horror and pretending to be a spider — men will run away in the instant. without a fight. that's effective.

Cassandra is not a one to deal with bullshit like this. she doesn't acknowledge these people at all, but if they start to actively catch her attention and cause a fight, she will first offer the scariest death stare to ever exist. people mostly scram afterwards, but if someone didn't, she will nonchalantly break the bones of their arm. as a threat.

you see, Jason probably is not getting annoyed by people like this. who would pick up on a fucking double-fridge, right? i think he mostly spawns behind his siblings' backs when someone picks up on them and terrifies tf out of others. but if someone did risk their lives, i think Jason would either just point a gun silently (if he is in a bad mood) or start roast these people so much, they would leave.

oh, Tim. Tim is gracious about it. someone starts haunting him on the streets, so he wordlessly records a video, and while that person still screams at him, he calls his lawyer. they will get charged and outed in the news for this faster than they will finish their attempts to terrify Tim.

Steph starts shouting back. she is so loud about it that people usually start gathering around them, and she starts making him join the conversation, too. "just look at this weirdo, huh! hey, hey, you, look at him and tell me — isn't he fucking insane?" and stuff. she is equally good at escalating the fight to the reaching point of just make people leave embarrassed, depending on the situation.

baby Damian definitely doesn't even understand the meaning of slurs — his family is adequate, and he is a sheltered kid in a way, so he has no idea what all that means. but he feels a threatening aura. he first reminds people who he is, giving a chance to escape... and when it is not working, someone is about to get stabbed.

Duke tries to joke it off first. like, in a "oh, from all slurs, i got called *this*? that's something new, buddy, kudos" kind of way. if it doesn't work and people continue annoying him, he simply fights these people. he doesn't care much.

[angelstate]

“Broken People, Broken Things”

Broken!Simon x Kind!Reader

In times of need it's difficult for him to speak up, a nagging feeling on his chest, a sinful voice in his mind that tells him he doesn’t deserve the help he needs, that after going through so much in life he should've learned to not ask for help.

an alack sentiment filling his head, a loss of hope so profound that makes him feel hollow, no amount of soil can fill the hole in his chest. is terrifying, the absence of himself on his body, as if he can only be the shell of what he once was.

a stray dog who bites the hand that tries to feed him used to be hurt rather than helped. He knows it’s not all his fault, that life wasn’t kind to him from the very start but guilt still manages to spill through crevices, straining his sanity.

it doesn’t matter how much you try to pull him out of his self-depreciation state, his already too far gone into his own head, thoughts of self-hatred already engraved for him to be eaten alive in the middle of the night.

it’s a cannibalistic situation, being the consumer and the consumed, harming himself until he’s bleeding then wincing at the pain, licking the blood of his wound like a harmed animal, self-sufficient and self-destructive, infecting himself with more pain than he already was in, a cycle of torture with no easy ending to relieve him from the pressure in his chest.

in a world where people's opinion of you controls the way your life plays out, he understands clearly why he didn’t amount to anything worth praising, he can recognize that his life was meant to start and end in one painful motion, surrounded by nothing but despair.

He finds it comical, how life pulls his strings and leads him to suffering when he hasn’t recovered from past wounds, like the universe wants to see how clever he can get to salvage his worthless life, how badly he wants to survive despite having no motive to live.

“Are you listening to me?” you speak, voice soft and kind, pulling him out of his thoughts, like being pulled out of the ocean by a kind stranger who saw him struggle to swim, being helped to fill his lungs with air and not water. he looks down to meet your gaze, your doe eyes always holding a warmth to them, your smile of understanding and patience he doesn’t think he deserves.

“Sorry, I got distracted for a second” he answers, voice low and gruff, tongue rolling with a heaviness created by his thoughts, he should’ve listened to you speak rather than lose himself in his mind, you are the only normality his life still has, the only thing he doesn’t associate to a bad memory.

“s’okay..it’s late either way, I should let you go to sleep” you reply, sounding apologetic as you always do, looking down with what he can only guess to be embarrassment, you shouldn’t feel that way, you should never feel ashamed, he knows you never mean any harm, only acting on love and friendliness.

“I’m not tired yet” he lies, he is tired, his body is aching and begging to rest but his mind feels more active than ever, two entities disconnected and acting on their own accord, he wants to lay down and rest but he doesn’t want to leave, not yet…please, not right now.

He remembers when he was a kid, not older than 4 years old, and terrified of the night, fearing something was hiding in it, waiting for the perfect moment to attack, to kill him. His father's screams in the other room and objects crashing against the walls only fueled his fear, that when the sun goes down, the world knows no peace, that monsters come out and are searching to kill him, to kill his mother.

He never grew out of that, he knew monsters as he believed before weren’t real, but that doesn’t mean that a similar evilness isn’t around, a sort of plague, a parasite that spreads every time he blinks. nights for him didn’t get much better either, something about the quietness didn’t feel right, a wave of doom he couldn’t escape on his chest, he could only stare at the door of his room while waiting for the sun to rise, only then being able to sleep.

“I thought you would be tired, you worked so hard today” you comment, it had been mere seconds that passed until you spoke but it felt like ages, like the time slowed down, once again the universe toying with his sanity. 

you always acknowledge his efforts, his actions, and his reasoning even if you are far off of what he intended, you’re always so nice to him, pretending the rumors and whispers about his past and intentions don’t reach your ears, that you aren’t aware of them when he can’t begin to remember the amount of times he heard about them, too many to count, that’s for sure.

“it was nothing…don’t worry” he answers, but oh how much you worry, concern filling your mind every time your eyes land on him, the tiredness in his eyes evident, his heavy steps a clear sign of his body tired of carrying his weight around. you wish you could lure him into his room, put him to sleep, be able to grant him a good night's rest.

Does he want to rest? Does he deserve to rest?

he feels numb at times, something lacking in his brain, stopping him from fully connecting and experiencing his feelings. It doesn't get any easier with every passing day, hours blend together and before he knows it he’s back by your side, your praises for working so hard and doing things he doesn’t find enjoyable for the sake of everyone else around him.

“Want a cup of tea?” you offer, tilting your head to the side, voice softer and sweeter, like one that people use to lure an animal close, trying to capture him and give him a home. It’s unsettling to him how good you make the idea of being welcomed in a home and not being terrified by the people living in it, like that’s a possibility, like if he lets you put him in that cage he won’t regret it.

“would appreciate it if you made me one” he replies, hesitant and doubtful even if you have never shown a sign of evilness, but anyone who offers him something must want something back, he knows it, he was taught that was how it worked. he doesn’t know what you want, what he can give you, and that terrifies him more, he doesn’t want to owe you anything.

“Okay” you say and leave the room with quiet steps, he doesn’t dare to move from his place, eyes focused on the place you were standing a few seconds ago, he’s alone in the room, being able to hear you open the kitchen door and move things around.

he knows you’re only a few feet away, in another room, the door open and your movements are skilled and soft, but you’re still a person in another room, and he is standing alone, in the darkness remaining because the lamp on the corner table does nothing but illuminate the objects that resting on the surface, everything else is dark.

everything else makes him remember when he was a kid and he was scared, he doesn’t want to be scared anymore.

He stumbles for a second, his foot taking a step back before he can realize he is moving, losing his balance and regaining it quickly. It feels like he’s falling apart from the inside out, a pillar inside of him deteriorating to the point he isn’t able to stand the weight of his past.

He doesn't know what to do, why it affects him so much your kindness and why now out of any other time he feels like he can’t stand the fact you’re in another room, you’re not his father, you're not dangerous, you’re not his mother, you’re not in danger. So why is he so worried he feels like suffocating? 

you affect him in ways he doesn’t like, it makes him feel self-conscious about everything he's gone through in his life, he doesn't understand why you bring that out of him, you are not linked to his past, you’re part of the fresh start he created for himself because of guilt.

maybe you remind him of the kindness he was denied, you remind him of what he could've had if life had been any kinder to him when he needed it when he was just a kid, when he feared his father would kill his mother and him one night, in the middle of the dark with no one to save him.

God, you shouldn’t be kind to people like him, who know nothing but to tarnish everything and everyone around him, he is poison and you’re too pure to even associate with him, your kindness shouldn’t be wasted on him he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve you.

He hears something shattering and follows not even a second later a scream of pain that could only come from you, his eyes dart towards the door, the hallway dark and the winces of pain continue.

For a second, a small fraction of a second he doubts the legitimacy of your injury, thinking his memories are getting to him, making him imagine something that isn’t at all happening, then he hears you fall to the ground, sobs ripping through your mouth and he knows it’s real.

He leaves the room with heavy steps, he’s adjusted to the darkness of the place but moves around, turning lights on with a freakish fear, wanting to have a clear vision even though he’s going straight towards his fear.

He reaches the kitchen and enters, his eyes moving around until he spots you on the floor, curled into yourself, hand bloody and burned, the broken cup and hot tea not even a meter away from you as you sob, holding your injured hand out as to not further damage the wound.

the image brings back memories he doesn’t allow himself to indulge in, moving around till he reaches you, grabbing the wrist from your injured hand with a sudden move, making you scream for a second before realizing is him who grabbed you, his eyes are strained on the wound, your skin looks irritated and half of your hand is soaked in blood.

“What happened?” he asks, tugging at your wrist as if the pain will make you speak any faster, he isn’t the kindest but he doesn’t mean to be harsh either, the panic is just too much on his bones to not let it out somehow, you’re the only person he knows is able to stab yourself with his sharp edges and survive to forgive him.

“I slipped and the cup fell on my hand…tried cleaning it but I cut myself” you explain through sobs and whimpers, trying to get your hand out of his grasp but every movement makes the pain of your wound stronger.

It’s stupid, how you managed to get yourself to fuck up something as simple as a cup of tea, it wasn’t a hard task, the floor hadn’t been mopped since hours ago and yet you still slipped and injured yourself like a baby deer with unstable limbs.

you shake your head, embarrassment once again plaguing your mind, he doesn’t differ with you, he doesn’t think you shouldn’t be ashamed of your mistake, you should be, you are ashamed and he agrees with you but for different reasons.

He thinks you should be ashamed of not calling out his name for help, for sitting on the ground and crying instead of asking for his assistance, you deserve to be helped when injured, and you deserve to be taken care of despite having made this mistake before.

you can make the same error again and still deserve to be forgiven and aided.

Because you’re human, and most importantly you are you, the woman who rescues everyone from their troubles like they are trapped in a burning building, you do everything and anything to make sure the people you love are safe and happy.

He can begin to understand why you think he’s worth the effort, maybe it’s pity, maybe with just one look at him and his reputation you can make out everything there is to know about him, every past trauma, every scar, every emotional issue he can’t let go of.

“It's fine…we’re going to be fine” He says, looking into your eyes, a silent promise you can’t decipher, you nod, pretending that you didn’t notice he aligned himself with your struggle, making himself a part of the situation so you wouldn’t be alone.

he doesn’t want that sort of faith for you.

He softly guides you to stand up from the ground, moving you towards the sink, standing behind you as he turns on the faucet, holding your injured hand and letting the cold water wash away the blood and cool off your irritated skin.

his breathing brushes on your neck, and the warmth of his chest spreads across your entire body as traps you between the counter and himself, it doesn’t have any malice in his touch nor does he mean anything sexual by it.

It’s the worry that has his body glued to yours, the need to surround you so you won’t get injured again, as one hides with their siblings somewhere in the house when your parents begin fighting again, it’s something natural that comes to him, used to protect and preserve the people he didn’t want getting hurt.

“I'm sorry for screwing up your tea” you apologize with a soft whisper, eyes focused on the blood washing away, it doesn’t hurt a lot anymore, just a small sting that lingers a bit uncomfortably, tolerable but not ideal.

you’re truly apologetic, you knew he didn’t get much sleep, that resting wasn’t something he usually did so you had tried to help him but in the end, it seemed you only caused more panic in his soul, his pupils still blown out as he assisted you with cleaning the wound, as if he was doing it for more reasons than just kindness.

maybe he was, you don’t know his full story after all, maybe you remind him of someone, of something he had buried a long time ago that you brought to the surface again and left him with anxiousness on his chest and worry in his mind.

“s’alright… it’s too late for tea either way” he comforts you the best he can, the best his words and feelings will let him right now, he isn’t upset about the mistake you made, anyone can fall, anyone can break a cup, he didn’t care about that, messes get cleaned up, a cup of tea isn’t as valuable as your health, you should know that.

It's too late for tea, and it’s too late for the amount of tears that continue to pour out of your eyes even though the pain isn’t overwhelming anymore, this time is your feelings, your physical state has nothing to do with the tears falling out and you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“I wanted to help you…I'm sorry Si” you speak again, a small hiccup interrupting your words but you don’t let that stop you from telling him how sorry you are that you managed to mess up one of the only things you knew he liked, tea.

“wanna make another one then?” he asks you, offering to let you try again, a second opportunity he knew you deserved and wanted, and even though he wasn’t in the mood for tea or anything at all, he was going to drink what you want to make him, even if it’s the last thing he does.

you shake your head, sniffling as you close the faucet softly with your noninjured hand, looking down as neither of you moves away from each other or makes the attempt to gain some distance. You didn’t want to make it again, didn’t want to risk embarrassing yourself and making the same mistake, this time in front of him.

“don’t want to screw up again” you answer him, voice low and full of shame. He understands you, maybe second chances aren’t always appreciated and he accepts that you don’t want to try again tonight.

He sees himself in you more than he wants to right now, more than he thought he ever would actually. He guessed that even someone like you could come from a not-so-pretty background, one where making mistakes is a sin that cannot be let go of without punishment.

different houses, different torture, same ending.

because of that, some part of him has to care for you, you deserve that, he cannot believe it enough even though he won’t say it out loud, don’t want to be caught by other people and have you end up being a outcast like him, you don’t deserve that, you don’t deserve that ending.

He makes you turn around softly so you’re facing him, his hands wiping away your tears with a gentle touch, he wished he could do more, turn back time and help you make the cup of tea, or go even further and stop whatever made you believe making a small mistake was such a high offense.

“Are you alright?” he asks, aware you aren’t but it feels cordial to make the question either way, giving you an opportunity to express more than you normally would, he knows you don’t talk enough about your feelings and it’s time you do.

“It’s not fair that you suffer so much and I can't even do something to help you” you reply and his heart stops for a second, the blood on his vein also coming to a halt as he feels himself being delirious of your words.

you did not hold such sentiment for him, nobody did, nobody has and nobody will. That was his life, a never-ending cycle of being looked down upon and having to do everything by himself because why would anyone want to help him or even try to? it’s stupid, you’re being stupid.

“Don’t say that darling..” he shushes you softly, his hands moving to caress your hair, he shakes his head, not wanting to believe you actually care, not wanting to get hope out of lies, it wouldn’t be pretty if he did and you broke his heart in the end.

“years of pain always lead up to isolation, you don’t deserve that” Captain Price once told him after a tough mission, and the words replay in his mind as he has you in his arms, the water mixed with droplets of blood on your hand staining the kitchen floor as he holds you gently.

He's living like his dead, and he doesn’t like it, doesn’t like he drags you to that same misery every time you’re around him but he doesn't want to let go of.

what is not devotion but to become a better person for the one you love?

“I appreciate your intention sweetheart…” he says as the silence from you eats him alive, wanting to make the ache on your chest disappear, he had never wanted to make you suffer, even unintentionally.

he is ready to repair everything broken so you won’t get harmed ever again, he’s ready to repair himself for you.

He had never wanted to become what he hates, a lover, a sentimental person, and yet as he finds himself becoming all of that and more, he can’t help but enjoy it, especially if it means never letting go of you.

Love wasn’t something he knew much of, never got the chance to learn when he was a kid and for a very long time he thought it wasn’t real, a mythical feeling everyone lied about existing so they wouldn’t be alone for the rest of their lives.

Your existence and kindness prove him wrong, your persistence in trying to make life easier for him, the way you laughed, the way you acted, your personality, your likes, and dislikes, everything about you showed him that love was real and he was experiencing it with you.

even if it took a lot of time for him to realize it he did now, and he loved you a lot, more than he would ever let on, more than any piece of literature could ever describe.

Tomorrow is a new day, and another cup of tea can be made, you cannot cry for what was never lost, and his gaze never falters from you so you don’t have to worry, he will always help you, you’re his air and he is yours.

Love cannot easily be tarnished and he swears he will never let anything happen to the one the two of you share, even if that is the only thing he does with his final breath.

(little reminder: I'm taking requests if you guys want me to write about something specific xx)