#this is how the story begins ill never tell this story again until one of us is making amends...

[metamorphesque]

Short Story: "Why do flowers die so soon?", Vardges Petrosyan

(translated from Armenian by Tathev Simonyan)

…I remember the last days of my life, which were unlike any that had come before. To the world, I seemed so happy: I had brothers, a sister, a family, a child who was a bell and a brook’s murmur. What else could one need for happiness? And yet, something was missing, for I was not happy. And then, out of nowhere, she poured into my life.

Has it ever happened that, on a hot summer day, while you’re standing there, dazed by the sun and dreams, someone playfully poured cold water on your neck? At first, you might startle, maybe even scold the one who did it, but then you suddenly feel that’s exactly what you’d been standing in the sun for, perhaps you’d been standing your whole life just for that.

That’s how she poured into my life—wild and astounding, asking for nothing, careless as could be. Now I can’t even recall if she was beautiful. In her eyes, there was an inquisitive sadness, a sliver of sky, and a bit of rustling. It felt as though those eyes were always gazing at life, asking, “Why...?” She came uninvited, wrapped herself around my days like a grapevine curling up its wooden stakes, offering me all the clusters of her youth—everything she had. And she asked for nothing. Nothing at all. Until the very end, I couldn’t convince her that I loved her too. Perhaps I didn’t truly believe it then, for I kept reminding myself every moment: I have no right to love her. And maybe that’s why, when she laid her whole life at my feet, I kept glancing at my watch; she brought me the full nakedness of her youth, while I closed the curtains and turned off the light. I never went out in public with her, and the world never found out that I was finally happy. Our love was akin to a fire we tried to cover with our hands, though the flame was scorching and uncontainable.

I’m afraid my beginning is dragging on too long.

I was ill before I died. All day long, my mother, my brothers, and my wife—sorrowful and pale—remained by my side, though in those last days, we no longer understood or recognized one another. Only she was missing, the one I waited for and loved most. She couldn’t come to our house. My brothers knew I would die; the doctor had told them so. They believed it, perhaps even expected it—sad and resigned. Only my mother didn’t believe it, though not because she was unaware of what the doctor had said…

Perhaps it’s best if I tell you about my last day. By then, I already knew I would die that very day. That’s why I wanted to laugh when the doctor tried to give me an injection, examined my stomach, and then prescribed some medicine: “Give him this twice a day for a week.” I didn’t blame him—this calm, warm-handed man; he just didn’t understand me, and no doctor understands that people only die when they’re truly exhausted. Someone might grow tired at eighteen, and another at seventy. I was tired. But I wasn’t sad. My bookshelf was in front of me, though I didn’t think about the fact that my fingers would no longer touch those books. I knew that other fingers would, and for books, it makes no difference. Books are a bit like gossipers—they reveal their secrets to anyone, so I knew that they’d share them with someone else, too. With sadness I only looked at the acacia tree rustling below my window and at the sky in the distance. I wished I could take with me, to that place beneath the ground, just a bit of that rustling and a sliver of sky. But I knew it was impossible.

“I’ll go grab some cigarettes,” I suddenly heard my older brother say, even though I knew he didn’t smoke. He was either heading out to send a telegram to our relatives or he simply didn’t want to see me pass. I understood and said goodbye with a glance, knowing we would never meet again in this world. He left. I asked my wife to take our child outside for some fresh air. “I’ll take him,” she replied, not realizing she’d never hear my voice again. I also said something to my mother, but she didn’t leave. This saddened me deeply, and I slowly closed my eyes. I don’t know how much time passed, only that I suddenly heard my mother’s gut-wrenching scream and knew I had already died. Through my closed eyelids, I saw everyone come rushing in, saw them carry my mother out—the first to sense my death, though the only one who hadn’t believed it was near.

After that, everything unfolded as it always does.

For two days, people gathered around me, and I saw many familiar faces I hadn’t seen in years. They cried or stood somber and silent, then left. Sometimes, those sounds or that silence wore me out, and I wanted to ask them to talk or be quiet. But there was such calm within me that I didn’t dare to open my eyes. With a strange sense of wonder I began to observe people—many of whom I thought I knew well. Not knowing I was watching, they felt no need to pretend. I recalled what I used to think of them when I was alive, and, truthfully, at times, I felt embarrassed by those old thoughts and judgments. But that wasn’t what preoccupied me the most; every day, I searched for the one who never came. I knew she couldn’t simply come and stand quietly by my side like the others. I knew that as soon as she entered, everyone would know. My heart ached with longing; I missed her deeply, even thought of asking my mother to call her, but I was too worn out to open my eyes. I was so tired, and for the first time, I could think of her in peace, knowing no one would interrupt—not with a phone call, nor a glance, nor love, nor hate. I thought of her even when they carried me down my street, the street where I’d grown up, loved, and grown weary.

The street was full of sunlight, but for the first time, I didn’t feel hot; instead, I wanted even more of the sun, bigger and warmer. I looked at my street: trams, cars, people stood with a kind of sadness that wore my heart out. I didn’t want to be the reason behind anyone’s sadness; thus, I didn’t feel bad at all when I saw a boy and girl under a tree, holding hands and smiling into each other’s eyes. At first, I thought they hadn’t noticed the procession, but then the girl looked directly at me and smiled again. The boy looked too, with kind and happy eyes. I wanted to smile back, maybe even wave, but I was too tired, and besides, if I lifted my hand, the flowers would fall.

Then we walked into the cemetery, and that’s when I saw her. I saw her and smiled—or rather, that smile had been there on my face the whole time because I’d been thinking of her in my final moments. For two days, through my closed eyelids, I saw that no one understood that smile; some even looked at it strangely and confused. But at the graveside, she understood; I even saw her smile back at me. Then her figure was obscured from my view by my relatives, my loved ones, and I remembered our last night together…

We were walking through the darkness. Only in darkness could we love each other freely in the open world, which is why we despised not just electric lights but even the stars when they shone too brightly. We were walking through the dark, and she wanted me to say that she was the one I loved most in the world. I was silent, perhaps already sensing that I was too tired of keeping that sentence unsaid, one I longed to cry out through all the speakers of the world. I was tired—tired of this darkness, of the lights, of everything—yet she waited. And later, under the ground, I deeply regretted that I hadn’t said those words meant only for her, belonging only to her, but it was already too late.

As I reminisced about our last night together, they started to lower me into the ground. I caught a final glimpse of her between my relatives' feet and heard her gaze. "Should I come with you?" she asked. "Should I?" That’s how I used to hear her voice through the receiver back then. In that final moment, I realized that if I just nodded, she would come, but she was only twenty-one, so I replied, "Stay." She heard my gaze, heard silently, just as she always had. Soon, she was obscured from view, and I realized I was already beneath the ground. After that, I heard the familiar sounds of stones and soil. And then, nothing more; only the thick fragrance of flowers lingered, frozen between me and the earth, then, thinking of her, I grew numb: I tried to recall the date and the day, but could only keep track of the calendar for a week or two.

Thus, days turned into months, and perhaps years went by. And I remember the words I never said to her, to the world, which is why I began to murmur this belated confession from beneath the earth. I began to exist through those unsaid words. Each day, I tried to remember how long our love lasted. A few... months? days? years?…

One day, I looked up and saw the sky once more; they had torn down our cemetery and replaced it with a garden of grasses and flowers. I had become a flower. I looked around in excitement, eager to find her and give her the words that were meant for her, belonged only to her... But she was not there; all around me were unfamiliar flowers that I did not recognize. I realized I must have been beneath the earth for perhaps an entire century, and she, too, might now be a flower, a blade of grass, or a handful of grain—who knows where in all the fields of the world... I was ready to search the globe for her, but I was just a flower, and I died as soon as I tried to lift my feet from the soil. I died for the last time. When I once more turned into soil, only then did I understand why flowers die so soon: all flowers might once have been people who rose from the earth in search of that someone, only to not find them and wither away, dying one last time. I realized that nothing in this world can be found twice, and I longed to cry out with all my floral voice, “Don’t let go, people, don’t lose what you have!”

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Eddie's hard work has finally paid off. Corroded Coffin is the new sensation and soon enough, Eddie gets an invitation for an interview, one that could promote the band on a much larger scale. He's excited but also terrified and Steve, being the supportive boyfriend he is (and also CC's unofficial mascot, "the yellow sweater boy" or simply "Stevie" to the fans) offers to go with Eddie. Eddie introduces Steve as his "emotional support ex-jock" and it goes well.

Until it doesn't.

Eddie gets more lively as he talks about the band's beginnings, the inspiration behind their songs and their influences, his own musical idols and influences. He's at ease, gesturing animatedly as he explains the evolution of the band's style, so he's caught off guard when the interviewer brings up that fateful spring of 1986. Eddie freezes, opens his mouth but nothing comes out. The memory of snapping bones, feeling of helplessness...it all comes flooding back.

But where Eddie feels like curling up into a ball and hoping the world will finally leave him alone, Steve is ready and prepared. He grasps Eddie's shoulder - Eddie blurted out a confession in one of his concerts so it's no secret for his fans that they're together, but why tempt fate - and gives the reporter a wide smile, sincere to someone who doesn't know him. He slips into his charming persona and speaks for the first time during the interview. "Thank you for asking this question," he says and the drop of poison easily dissolves in the sweetness of his voice. "I hope my recollection will be enough because I sure don't want to have Eddie go through all that horror again. But I assure you...I was there for nearly all of it. So ask away. I'm glad to finally set the record straight."

And so Steve talks about that March, about how Eddie found Chrissy dead in his trailer, mutilated in such an inhumane way his body took control and got him out, no call to the police, not a single thought. He mentions there was a witness who saw him enter the trailer and immediately stumble out, not enough time to harm anyone (Max has stuck to this story and never changed it, no matter how much anyone pushed). He talks about how he met Eddie later, how shaken he was and how the town started a manhunt for Eddie for no good reason, except that he was different. "He started a club for kids who were outcasts, who just wanted to remain children for a bit longer - and the whole town went to hunt them down. They attacked a thirteen year old girl. They beat up a fifteen year old boy just for belonging to the club."

Now it's Eddie's turn to grasp Steve's shoulder, his arm, worried about his sharp tone, his hardly contained anger. But Steve carries on, staring the reporter down as he stutters that he will have to verify this information. "This is rather different from the official story," he says, his forehead glistening with sweat.

And Steve just flashes the disarming smirk that established him as King Steve once upon a time and tells him to verify it all, please. Because Eddie Munson has nothing to hide and neither does the Corroded Coffin. "It's not different if you paid any attention to the police report," he mentions calmly, leaning back in the chair. "People don't like to speak ill of the dead, but a dead person is exactly who's at fault here. Jason Carver riled up the mob. He bought a revolver after he did that, publicly for self-protection, but..." he shrugs, buries the edge in his voice under his charm yet again. "We have a witness that heard him admit who it was for." Dead men tell no tales, but Nancy Wheeler sure does.

And as the reporter scrambles to put together a coherent thought, Steve lands the finishing blow. "It's a shame you only invited Eddie to discuss this," he says and the sympathy in his voice is almost believable. "After all, his band mates were also targeted and attacked."

The reporter stares at him, speechless.

"Oh, you didn't know?" The disbelief is genuine for once and he leans in, looks the man straight in the eye. "Jason Carver and his friends went to interrogate the band, you know. Only to talk, they said. Except they almost broke Gareth's hand during that talk. Once again...there is a witness. A different one, if you were about to ask. Perhaps you should talk to them too, I can give your their contact details. You know," he adds, smiling at the reporter, "I am incredibly thankful you brought this up. There aren't many who are willing to dig up old wrongs to set things right. I wasn't sure what to expect of this interview, there was always a possibility of someone malicious taking advantage of this traumatizing event, just to get a shocking scoop on a bunch of guys who have worked incredibly hard to get where they are. I was wary because there are always people willing to destroy lives just to get a bit further in theirs. I'm so grateful you aren't one of them. Because I see you as someone who wants to do more than shock their audience...I think you're someone who wants the truth, no matter how ugly it is."

And no matter what the reporter intended before, he is that man now. He nods frantically, assuring Steve that he will bring justice to Eddie and the Corroded Coffin. Steve Harrington has that effect on people - if he believes in someone, that belief is often enough to give that final push. Anything to keep Steve Harrington's faith, not to disappoint that earnest look in his eyes. Eddie almost feels sorry for the reporter - after all, he knows the best what his boyfriend is like when he doesn't hold back. It's a sight to behold.

After a few reassurances from the reporter, the man finally turns to Eddie. "I apologize for bringing up bad memories, Eddie," he says and perhaps this time he means it. Eddie would like to believe that. "Is there...would you like to add anything?"

Eddie thinks screw it and firmly grasps Steve's hand, homophobia be damned. He needs to get through this. "Yes, actually..." he says and his voice is low, almost broken, but at least it's coming out now, carrying the words he's wanted to shout at the world for years now. "That night...was probably the worst night of my life. Worse than when I almost died. Well. When I actually died before someone brought me back," he smiles at Steve, briefly, before turning back to the man scribbling down every word. "It took me a long time to realize I couldn't have done anything to save Chrissy. Hell, some days I still don't believe myself, I'm thinking if I've done something differently, been faster, but...in the end, it didn't matter. Doesn't stop me from feeling like I failed her."

Steve knows these things, of course. That's why he doesn't interrupt, just strokes his thumb over Eddie's whitening knuckles.

"Chrissy Cunningham was a wonderful, bright girl. She was friendly to everyone, even outcasts like me. There is no way in hell I'd ever want to harm someone that...that warm. Kind. The truth of the matter is - for years I didn't defend myself against these accusations that still appear from time to time, no matter what the official investigation said. I didn't sue anyone even though I was advised several times to do so, for the slander, the attempts at my life. Because you...because I felt guilty just for being there. For surviving when she didn't." He looks at the reporter with full force now, straightens his spine. "But I knew Chrissy Cunningham and I know she wouldn't want anyone feeling guilty for something they didn't do. She brought joy to others, not misery. And I want to honor her memory. So once and for all, for the record - I didn't kill Chrissy. I never hurt her, couldn't have. But I still keep her with me as an inspiration, as a soothing voice behind every bitter thought - I don't talk about her, don't use her story for publicity because she didn't, doesn't deserve that. But she's what I think of when I see bright smiles of our fans, when I see young people having fun at our concerts - I wish, more than anything, that she could have been one of them. So I try to bring as much joy into this world as I can to make up for the empty space she left behind, even if that might never be enough. That's all."

The interview spreads like a wildfire. Headlines like "Corroded Coffin's Eddie Munson breaks silence for the first time!" or "CC's frontman reveals details of persecution and mass hysteria in 1986". The news pick up the story, question the people in Hawkins who deflect or begrudgingly admit to their actions, justifying their deeds...but some of them talk. Karen Wheeler becomes the star of the show, recalling in horror the hunt for her daughter and her son's friends. "I vouch for Steve Harrington's recollection," she says firmly, shushing her husband's feeble attempts at deflection. "I'm glad someone finally had the courage to call the spring of 1986 what it really was - a witch hunt."

Eddie finally has the courage to do what he's wanted for years - he names the next album This One's For You, Chrissy. The world knows now, it knows that he mourned for her in his own way and that she meant so much to him, as a first extended hand, as a symbol, as a human being. He donates as many profits as he can to a foundation in Chrissy's name, providing the much needed mental health support to Hawkins children and teenagers. And piece by piece, Eddie Munson heals.

Before the interview becomes the sensation it is, Eddie crushes Steve in a hug and thanks him for everything, for making this burden easier. He's still worried his words will get twisted, that there will be a new wave of hatred, but Steve just chuckles and kisses his head. He reaches into the leather satchel he had at the interview and presents Eddie with a dictaphone - everything they've just talked about recorded. "Please, Eddie," he rolls his eyes in that bitchy way that has Eddie swooning, "I may be pretty, but I'm not stupid or naive."

Apart from the much needed closure and at least partial justice, there is an unusual side effect to this whole ordeal - Steve gets a new nickname in the Corroded Coffin fan base. After the way he handled the interview, after shielding Eddie and his band mates from unwanted attention, he becomes "The Guard Dog Steve", also lovingly referred to as "Golden Retriever Steve". Eddie loves it. Steve finds it ridiculous, but it makes Eddie smile so maybe it's worth it.

[127-crew]

How they would comfort you

Jack Sparrow:

• Jack Sparrow has a habit of trying to fix problems on his own, and when he wanted to fix whatever had you bothered, you ask him not to, that the best thing he can do for you is just to remain by your side, so he obliges

• Jack will try to get an image of how you’re feeling, but it’s a challenge when it comes to reading body language rather than hear it through words

• Jack isn’t very good at reading others, even you. You always have to tell him, which you honestly didn’t mind doing.

• Jack never was good at offering good advice once you’ve finished telling him. By doing this, Jack seems to be a good listener.

• He offers physical affection, his actions are stronger than words when it comes to you and sometimes that was better, all you need to see that everything is okay and will work out in the end

• Physical affection would include running his fingers lightly through your hair, and that often did the trick in making you feel so relaxed that you begin to doze off

• The next step in physical affection would be taking you into his sleeping quarters and the both of you would be cuddling as he continues to comfort you

• Pulls you close to him

• Promising you in a hushed tone that he would always be there for you

• Once you begin to feel better, you begin to speak

• “Can we stay like this for a little while? It’s nice.”

• Jack would release a small laugh as he agrees to your request

• He loves you to pieces and hated it to see that something has bothered you so much

• Jack had a way of making it all seem not so bad

Hector Barbossa:

• To see you so upset, the very first thing that Barbossa would often think you were upset because of something he has done

• It took a lot for him to finally ask you if it was anything he did and would try to comfort you with apologies before giving you the chance to explain what was going on

• Once you confirmed it had nothing to do with anything he had done, it was a huge relief for him as he tries to help you through whatever was troubling

• Unlike Jack Sparrow, he uses words as a tool for comforting you, he’ll say the sweetest things to you, in which you know he is very sincere and is true to them, no matter how long in time

• “I’m glad you came into my life.” he would say, causing you to blush

• Upon seeing that, he waited until you were ready to tell him what was going on that made you upset

• When you did tell him, he pulls you in his embrace and pulls you close while you continue on telling him

• “I’m here for you.” is how it all starts, and you think it’s the best place to start.

• sometimes he will try and tell you stories from his past adventures

• Your favorite ones to hear about are the ones about Jack Sparrow

• Whenever you feel this way, Barbossa would know how to take care of you and help you to feel better

• He often doesn’t say it, but in this case, he said it again, almost as if he was taking back in time where the two of you confessed feelings for each other

• “I love you, so much.” he would say, followed by your own feelings for him.

• “I love you, too.”

Davy Jones:

• It doesn’t take long for Davy to pick up on the fact that something was wrong, or that something seemed to have upset you and he was determined to get to the bottom of it and find out

• One of the signs he picked up on was the fact that your ability to remember things had seemed to gone out the window

• Next, if you have messed up just the slightest, no matter how small, you seemed to get easily irritated and even close to very emotional, which is very unlike you

• The last part of it was you have suddenly fallen ill, even though the day before you were perfectly healthy

• Of course, Davy didn’t want to find out just by asking so at first, he asks some of the most trusted crew mates to look after you and report back to him if they notice anything

• When that didn’t work, he had no choice but to come right out and ask you, and he worried that it would upset you

• It did a little in the beginning, but you don’t spill everything out at once. So every night as you’re recovering, he comes to visit and you just take baby steps in telling him everything. During that time spent together, you’ve become closer as he gets to know you better

• After learning what’s going on, Davy’s soft spot for you only grew, as he now isn’t afraid to spare you the treatment in front of everyone from now on

• Comfort shows more from his actions than words, but he’s very good at it

• A couple of times, you’ve noticed Davy keeping an eye on you if you’re not close by, he just wants to make sure you’re not in any kind of danger, keeping you safe from harm

• The crew now respects you a little more than they have before

Will Turner:

• If you’re upset about something, it’s easy for him to tell, it’s nearly impossible to hide anything from Will

• He knows just by simply holding your hand brings you calm and comfort, so you’re often seen around holding his hand

• If you have to part ways for even just a few seconds or minutes, he’s always reluctant to leave your side, even with knowing you’d still be there when he returns to you, almost like he never left for a brief moment

• “Don’t go where I can’t follow!” he’d say, but that would be when you go off on your own a little bit

• Hearing Will say that never failed to bring a smile to your face. Upon your return, Will sometimes is overly dramatic with greetings. Usually he greets you with a hug that tells you he thought he’d never see you again.

• You don’t complain, you return the hug before going off with him

• Will was very protective of you, especially during those times you would get upset and often, he would think it was because of something he had done

• “Don’t lie for me, (Y/n).” he’d say.

• You were always truthful with him

• You both work together on looking for ways to get rid of whatever it was that was making you so upset

James Norrington:

• No matter how hard you may try, it was just too easy for James to pick up on the scent that you were very bothered by something

• Once it was confirmed, he would ask you what it was, nearly demanding answers from you

• However, seeing as upset as you were once he started asking, he allowed for you to take all the time in the world that was required of your need to compose yourself just enough to at least.m tell him what was going on

• He refused to leave your side once he knows and tries his best to comfort you in ways he believed would bring you comfort

• And it worked

• You’re hardly leaving his side and he’s hardly ever letting you go out of his sight

• Unlike some, James Norrington was very understanding and sincerely cared

• From than on, he wasn’t afraid to put you first before anything else

• Even though it may have gotten him in trouble a few times, he continued and didn’t care about the trouble it got him in

• You would ask for him to worry about you later, but he wasn’t having it

• “Not a chance in the world.” he’d say.

• Which only made you fall in love with him even more

• It was those awful nightmares that was bothering you, they seemed to never have any plans on ever going away

• If anything, they got worse each time you had one

• One night, you had a real bad one, one that made you scream and thrash around in your sleep

• Of course, that woke James up and he comes to your aid as he begins comforting you

• “I heard you screaming again, is it the nightmares?”

• You nod as you feel like you couldn’t breathe and that’s when James started his mission to comfort you back to sleep

• “Hey, just look at me. Breathe.”

• You did and soon, you started feeling better and laid back down to go back to sleep.

• Just as you were about to enter sleep, you were awakened a short minute at the feel of James Norrington’s hand in yours

• “Hold my hand. You’re going to be fine.”

• “I could use a hug.” you say sleepily.

• The last thing you remember before falling asleep was seeing the smile form on his lips, followed by the feel of him holding you

• Finally, a peaceful sleep takes over

***

@127-crew

[lemonxdaisybby]

How about the Legends and Ichigang fellas taking shower by themselves and with their s/o? Just anything that comes up

Hello! Thank you for your request! 💕 Some mild NSFW hcs, hope that’s okay x

I’ve just done Ichigang guys for now because I am v dumb and wasn’t entirely sure who the Legends consisted of. I’m not sure if you mean Kiryu, Majima, Saejima, etc, but also didn’t wanna make any assumptions incase I got it wrong 😭 I’m so sorry, please free to send another request in if you wanna add more characters for this hc 💕

Ichiban:

When showering on his own, Ichi would be a fan of cold showers. He has one each morning, and he finds the cool water tends to wake him up properly, and makes him more alert. He only really has warm showers if he’s feeling ill, or if it’s especially cold out…or if he’s showering with you.

He would be so shy the first time you shower together, as he wouldn’t really know what to do with himself, or where to look. He wouldn’t want to come across as a creep so would actively try to avoid looking at you at first, until you laugh at him and tell him to chill out. Then he’s gonna relax and realise he’s been overthinking the whole thing.

Sometimes, showering with Ichi would end in sex, and other times it would just be completely innocent, with the two of you washing each others hair. There would be no expectations.

You two would probably be a lil goofy in the shower, styling each others hair to make it stick up at odd angles, or creating bubble beards with the shower wash. Very cute and sweet.

Nanba:

Man is frugal, and very conscious of his water/household bills. Showers are gonna be quick, speedy and efficient. He probably would be eager to shower with you because firstly, saves on water and bills, and secondly, he gets to see you naked. There is no down-side.

Likely uses the most basic of shower products. He doesn’t really have a preference for shampoos, soaps or shower gels/washes, and tends to just get whatever is on sale.

Showering together would never really get sexual. Nanba can’t see very well without his glasses, so likely would be a little clumsy when showering, and is definitely not up for attempting to fuck you in there. However, once you two are out the shower, well, that’s another story.

Honestly, showering together would just be quick and no nonsense. There wouldn’t really be any goofing around. He’s there for a purpose, to get clean. No shenanigans.

Adachi:

Hums and sings in the shower. Also, he just really enjoys showers in general? He is so happy when showering, and will always have a lil content smile on his face. Adachi has super hot showers too, the heat relaxes his poor old muscles.

He likely prefers baths, to be honest. As he can just lay back and close his eyes, and maybe even have a beer whilst he bathes.

He has a yellow rubber ducky just sitting on the side of the bath. He bought it because he thought it looked cute and funny. He won’t admit it to anyone, but sometimes after a hard day, when having a bath to de-stress, he finds himself absentmindedly telling the ducky about his problems. He wouldn’t necessarily talk to it, but he’d kinda lean back and just begin venting, glancing at the duck every now and again and telling it how lucky it is, not having to deal with everyday shit.

When showering together, if it’s in one of those shower cubicles, it would be a bit squishy, as he’s so huge and takes up a lot of space. If it’s a shower-head over a bathtub, it’s less squishy but you two will definitely end up fighting about who gets to stand under the shower head.

Horny man, so he probably adores showering with you, and often it does end up with sex. He’d lift you up and have your back pressed against the wall, with your legs wrapped around his hips as he slowly thrusts in to you at a relaxed pace.

Joon-Gi:

Joon-Gi takes hygiene and beauty regimes very seriously. He likely uses the most luxurious shower washes and shampoos ever, and has a careful shower routine to follow. He showers every morning and night.

Showering with Joon-Gi wouldn’t happen often. Showering is like his chill time. He likes to relax, unwind, and allow his mind to go blank. He takes it as an opportunity to pamper himself too.

However, on the occasions where you do shower together, he would help you wash your hair and body. He would not allow you to wash him or his hair though. He’s very particular and likes to do it himself.

He would have been pretty bashful the first time the two of you showered together, not quite knowing what to do with himself, or where to look.

On rare occasions, showering together can result in shower sex, but most of the time, it’s pretty innocent and he’s more focused on getting clean.

Zhao:

Zhao showers every morning, and is likely still half asleep when showering. There has been the odd occasion where he’s almost dozed off whilst standing under the shower head, the feeling of the hot water cascading down his back almost sending him to sleep.

Definitely smooths his hair back under the water like one of those fancy shampoo adverts.

He does jerk off in the shower when showering alone. The hot water has him relaxed, and also it’s easy to clean up after.

When showering together, it’s always going to end up with sex, with only one exception - when you’re ill. If you’re feeling pretty sick and weak, to the point where you’re struggling to walk or carry out daily tasks, he will shower with you. It would be so soft and wholesome. He’d wash your hair and body for you, and then help you dry afterwards. He’d be pretty good at taking care of you when you’re sick.

Any other time you shower together, you’re gonna end up with your front pressed against the cool shower tiles or glass, as he thrusts in to you from behind.

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

The End of the Line

Summary: Out of all your missions, successful or not, none have managed to kill you yet. But you don't realise that even surviving them comes at a cost to your health, even if Jeff vows to make it better.

Word Count: 2261 Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader Warnings: not proof read, illness, death, and a very sad Jeff (angst) A/N: THIS IS NOT CANON TO THE JFU BY THE WAY. THIS IS NON-CANON!! it's not the best thing I've written and I lost motivation to write the middle section of this in full depth, so hopefully it all still makes sense. Hope you enjoy! :) (it's not canon!!)

"You should have gone to the doctor; I told you not to cancel it!"

"We had a mission, Nat. People needed saving. That's our job."

"You need saving.” Natasha sighs, her head in her hands, before she looks up at you. Pleading. “How far along is it?”

"It's one of the most common types; people survive it every day-"

"Y/N. How far along is it?"

Outside your bedroom, Jeff inches closer, sensing his parents' distress. He doesn’t like it when you argue, and he especially doesn’t like how upset Natasha seems to be. "It's too far for radiotherapy." He hears you mutter, your already low voice muffled further by the door. The suspense of knowing only half the story becomes too much for Jeff and he soon bursts into the room.

He sees you and Natasha sitting side by side on the bed: you with your hands in your lap, watching your own fingers fidget, while Natasha watches you, her bloodshot eyes scanning your face as if it’s the last time she can.

Determining who needs comfort most, Jeff trots towards Natasha and repeatedly butts at her legs, attempting to ease her worries. He may not be sure why she’s crying, but he knows he can make it better; he always makes things better. 

It seems to work when the assassin smiles at him through watery eyes, even picking him up and settling him on her lap. Jeff smiles back, proud to be of service, and happily purrs when Natasha strokes his head. She pets him quickly, to begin with, then slows until her hands stop right above Jeff’s earholes. Jeff continues to smile at her, hoping soon she will remember to keep stroking him and restore his hearing.

"Can you hear me, Jeff?" Natasha whispers. The land shark doesn’t reply but instead stares forward with a wide grin and lolled tongue, not giving any visible clues that he’d even noticed her speak. “Good.”

Natasha turns to you again, her expression graver now that Jeff can’t overhear. “I want you to be honest with me, Y/N, please, without tangents or deflections: what is the survival rate?”

That was the question you had been expecting and dreading since you first got your diagnosis; the answer is easy to find, and you know you can’t keep the truth from Natasha, but a small part of you wishes she would leave it be, that she hadn’t asked the question.

You wish that she never had to know.

But you can't always have that wish; this is happening, and you have to think about her, your wife. It's better for her to hear it from you.

"On average... 1 in 10."

A sharp inhale from Natasha; she is trying her best to keep it together, nodding for your sake. "And for you... Are you on the average?" You hear her voice shake but don't comment on it.

"They found it late. The odds are slimmer."

There is a long pause, and then Natasha breaks, a racking sob emerging as you wrap your arms around her. Jeff is not so clueless anymore, and despite Natasha's best efforts, he can tell there is something very, very wrong.

"Mrrr?" Jeff asks as he tilts his head towards you. Natasha releases him from her grasp, restoring his hearing and allowing him to walk in your direction.

You hold out your arms and let him cuddle closer before telling him the truth, “I’m sick, Jeff.” Tears fall sporadically onto his smooth head and you inhale sharply; it really is no easier to say a second time."I don't know if you even know what cancer is, but I'm gonna keep fighting it, try to stay with you and Nat, but… well, it's not guaranteed that I'll get better."

Jeff silently hops out of your lap and exits the room, leaving you worried that you've said too much…that he might be upset, angry, or just needing space to cope. Assuming the latter, you do nothing to stop him; you simply watch him leave. Natasha leans over and you wrap an arm around her shoulder; after a life of missions, countless bullet wounds, and a plethora of near-death scares, you never thought it would end like this.

The two of you are still in that position, contemplating the ironies of life, when Jeff returns. You suddenly sit up straight, relieved to have Jeff back but also bracing yourself to answer any questions he might have. But instead of that, the land shark trails a blanket behind him, while his favourite toy is balanced atop his head. He drops both in front of you before walking out once more.

Natasha reacts first, starting with a small chuckle, that grows into a full blown laugh when she meets your eye and sees you struggling not to do the same. Soon enough, the absurdity of the situation – especially after the gravity of the previous conversation – leads to you laughing along with your wife. You keep meeting her eyes in an attempt to ask a silent question of 'do you understand what's going on?', but it is clear her answer is 'no' and all you're accomplishing is reviving her laughter every time it reaches its dying stages.

Luckily, your confusion is put to rest just minutes later. Jeff pushes a large, locked, and recognisable tin of treats through the door – they are the special kind of treats that you usually reserve for when Jeff is ill, a small treat to help him feel better. The pieces click in your mind and you realise that the items Jeff brought are not as eclectic as you previously thought. The blanket, the toy, the treats – they are all the items you give to Jeff when he's sick.

"What's all this?" Natasha asks him. Her tone is still light, and she looks to you to share the amusement. You smile gently, but it is a surprise to you that she hasn't put the pieces together herself – it's rare for her to be trailing you in her understanding. The knowledge of your condition is still new to her, you remember, and you realise she has already pushed it from her mind, there would be no question about Jeff's actions otherwise. Natasha knows you are going to die. And she is refusing to believe it.

"Mrrrr!"

"He wants to make me okay again," you translate, and Natasha's previously joyous face falls when she's forced to remember. The expression pains you to watch so you turn to Jeff instead.

"Mrrrr?" he asks.

“Yeah, Jeff, yeah it’s working. I feel better already.” The land shark hums contentedly at your reassurance. “Now come on up, bud, are you sleepy? I am. We can take a nap together.”

“I’ll be outside,” Natasha murmurs, her expression still not lifted, “call if you need anything.” You note her sunken eyes and the worried frown and read it for what it is: a request for space, for you to allow her to process this.

You nod. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we Jeff?”

She reads that for what it is: a promise larger than this moment alone… and a lie.

As the months pass, changes in your life are inevitable: you ground yourself from field missions, the treatments and their side effects taking too great a toll for you to safely perform your job. But while your life has to change, the same is not true for Natasha and Jeff. Though they attempt to change their routines to suit you – Natasha offers to work from home, while Jeff proposes trips to other rooms in the house instead of the beach where he would rather be – you deny them both, hiding the true extent of your weakness in order that they keep living the life they deserve to live.

It works, for a time, Natasha still takes missions, Yelena takes Jeff when you're too weak to entertain him, and the team works better than ever in their assignment to keep you rested. But at your next check-up, you realise it was all in vain.

You’re given time to contemplate in the hospital, and you use it wisely: you think of Natasha and how you will tell her, knowing the second you do she’ll rush home and never leave your side again. You think of your life and everything leading to now – sure, there’s plenty more out there, but if the doctor is right, then you’re satisfied with what you’ve had. The life you’ve lived wasn’t bad at all. Finally, you think of Jeff, who is still so young; you ask the nurse to call Yelena, if the cancer is spreading then you want to spend every last second with Jeff and give him as many happy memories as you can.

The land shark in question barrels into you the moment you cross out of the hospital’s threshold; Yelena sprints forward to catch you, giving you stability while Jeff eagerly circles the two of you like he’s drawing a figure of eight. 

“Hello to you too, Jeff,” you laugh. You try to embed his contented purrs in your brain, forever wanting to live in that moment, crouched on the floor and scratching him behind his fin.

But then Yelena asks: “was it good news?” and reality comes crashing back down. 

It’s a funny thing, that moment. Around you visitors, patients, and workers all filter in and out, Jeff doesn’t notice a thing, still roaming happily, but for you – and for Yelena, since she knows as soon as your face falls – the answer to the Widow’s question slows time to a halt just so it can drain joy out of every molecule of your surroundings.

“Oh” is all Yelena says.

“Yeah,” you say, “maybe we should go to the car.”

Yelena wordlessly leads the way. Meanwhile, Jeff seems close to bursting with how much he has to tell you of his time at Yelena’s. After one nod, the floodgates open to spew what seems to be a minute-by-minute recount of the week.

“I remember that one, Jeff, I was still at home then,” you interrupt, but that only forces Jeff to restart from the beginning – you decide to stay quiet after that. In truth, Jeff’s narration is exactly what you need; the journey home would be silent otherwise with you staring out of the window, lost in thought, and Yelena driving, facing forwards, not knowing what to say or what to ask. The conversation would come – if not now then when Natasha returns – but for this moment, Jeff’s tale of losing his plush toy under Yelena’s bed makes for ample distraction. You could live that moment a thousand times over.

A soft ‘mrrr’ sounds again from just outside the hospital door, this time followed by a scratch, and then silence falls. Natasha knows she should get it – to let Jeff in and break him from a limbo he isn’t even aware he is in, but she can’t bring herself to do it, not when she knows what awaits him when the barrier of the door is removed. To him, your life is as certain as that of Schrödinger's cat, a fate unknown to the landshark; except Jeff’s thoughts rarely err on the side of realism and his optimistic tendencies generally benefit his perception…until they give him further to fall.

And yet, when he whines again, when the nurse goes to open the door for him, and even when he comes barrelling down the ward to see you, Natasha stays frozen in place, doing nothing to stop his inevitable realisation.

Your heart had stopped eleven minutes before.

“Mrrrr?” Jeff greets, nuzzling at your leg. You don’t reply. He notices Natasha sob, but thinks nothing of it, she had been crying more over the past few weeks. 

“Mrrr?” he tries again; you had been growing weaker, but still mustered the energy to reach for him whenever he was allowed to visit, unless you were asleep. So he turns to Natasha, she cannot understand him the same way you do, but signing allows her a base level understanding of his language. He nudges first to get her attention, then waves a hand down his face: ‘Asleep?’

Natasha’s sobs suddenly get heavier, jolting Jeff but ultimately spurring him into action to comfort his other parent: ‘are you okay?’. The assassin takes a deep, shaky breath, but wipes her eyes and nods.

"Y/N, um, they are asleep…in a way." Staring into Jeff's hopeful eyes only brings more tears to Natasha's own; she has to look away, her eyes falling to watch as she spins the ring on her finger. "You remember how we said that a time might come where one of us isn't around anymore? If Y/N's sickness didn't go away?"

Jeff nods.

"Well that's happened. Y/N's asleep and they-" her voice cracks- "they're not going to be waking up. Y/N is gone, Jeff. They're gone." Through blurry eyes, Natasha risks a glance back to Jeff, only to see his whole body drooped like never before and the hope – the belief that had inspired you to keep fighting throughout the whole illness – was gone from his eyes.

"Mrrrr?"

"I…I don't know what you're saying, Jeff, I'm sorry, that was always…" Natasha trails off, not willing to accept you were gone just yet.

Jeff mrrs again; he signs as he goes but his hands fly faster then Natasha can comprehend, at least in this state. 'I failed' she catches before he turns to where you rest, 'I'm sorry'.

Jeff taglist: @unexpected-character @wolferine

[gynandromorph]

okay for the record i did vote "her parents" because i think parents are like hugely formative and influential relationships you have and remain that way forever especially when they are good parents you feel love and gratitude toward. she literally has been living with them to help w/the household because both of her parents have physically painful disabilities now and her sister has a debilitating mental illness. emily obviously wants to have her own life and start her own family but the family she already has would suffer without her, so she stays. i think she cares about her parents a lot.

that said, if i wanted to play devil's advocate, i could argue for the other two options as well. her parents are obviously getting old, and sometimes you have to just like, start preparing mentally for the fact that they may start losing their minds, your parents start to forget things or get snippier and you're like is this it? is this where the dementia begins? it can be hard not to detach.

as an eldest child you feel an obligation to protect your younger siblings -- in emily's case, it's just the one little sister she has, but it's a very real sense of guilt when they turn out "bad" per se. when they get hurt and it feels like it's your fault. jessie obviously has an inferiority complex compared to her older sister and it becomes Much more obvious once she becomes god and i think those things aren't lost on emily. i can imagine out of any of the 3 options, jessie could evoke the most GUILT, quantitatively and qualitatively. every stupid opinion emily had as a teenager, every fight and hurtful thing she said to her sibling, every time she detached to prioritize her own peer group instead-- it's just decades of things to feel like she could have possibly done something different, and her sister might have not turned out to be the way she is. so i could see this option as viable.

trouble's relationship to emily was the least obvious -- over the course of the story, trouble loses respect for emily as emily tries to treat her more like a person than a dog, because being able to talk puts trouble's sapience on full display. trouble can now say "i don't feel like it" about anything and emily backs down because you can't like, FORCE people to do things just because they're smaller than you. emily has to wonder what the 17 years of trouble's life were like from her perspective, not being able to say anything, not being treated like a person, being told when and what and how much to eat, what to do and how to feel about it, and it's easy for emily to wonder if she did something wrong -- REALLY wrong. trouble is arguably the closest thing she's had to feeling like a parent and i think it would leave some deep impressions on her psychologically to wonder about those things, many memories she has of trouble and what they mean about her as a person or as a hypothetical mother. also, trouble's death wasn't UNDONE; she died, and then became alive again. she remembers dying. she remembers emily taking her to the vet to die! she tells emily (in a sketch comic i never finished) that from her perspective, emily killed her, and she would have chosen to suffer until her body died than to be killed by her caretaker. trouble doesn't really seem to harbor ill will about it, because the one in charge gets to do what they want and make everyone else do what they want. but for emily, that's like an incredibly painful thing to hear from her dog. the side comic is intentionally supposed to hit a very painful hypothetical where your pet thinks you've murdered them after you have them put down in, from your perspective, their best interest. it's a ton of different negative emotions emily can feel all at once! also, trouble calls adam "dad" and evelyn "mom" which is presumably more just assuming those are their names, but i can imagine that also kind of stings. in fact, trouble eventually starts to satellite "mom" instead of emily because evelyn still treats her like a dog and is an authority figure who asserts that in the household.

anyway, sorry for the huge walls of text, this is just a thought experiment more than anything. all in all i think emily is dealt a brutal hand of cards. but she does suffer one of the least tragic fates of anyone in the comic as far as the comic goes.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Differences between Bsd Fifteen (Light Novel) and Bsd Fifteen (subbed anime, season 3 episodes 1-4.)

Tw for suicidal ideation because this is Dazai's introduction.

In both works Mori is talking about the disaster of a situation they're in, what with late shipments and such. Before turning to Dazai.

Anime:

Mori asks Dazai if he thinks they are cut out for this after all.

Dazai, while mixing medication says "come now Mori-san. Not having money, not having intel, not having the trust of your subordinates. You knew it would be like this from the beginning."

Mori calls him mean and questions why he's mixing hypertension and hypotension medication together.

Light Novel:

Mori asks if Dazai's listening to him. Dazai, while mixing medication says he isn't because "your stories are always so boring!"

He than tells Mori he should've seen this all coming from the start. Mori scratches his head in a troubled manner and questions why Dazai's mixing medication.

Anime:

Dazai says he's mixing medication because he thought it would be a comfortable way to die.

Light Novel:

Dazai says he thought it would be amazing if he drank them together and died easily. Mori tells him he won't die, implying it wouldn't kill him. And questions how Dazai got into his medicine cabinet.

Dazai flaps his hands and says "I want to die! I'm so bored, I want to die as easily and simply as possible. By any means, Mori-san!"

Mori tells him if he's a good, mature kid than he'll teach Dazai how to mix the back medicine.

"Lies! You already told me that. A year ago that was the only thing that made me think so hard, and you still never told me! At this rate, I'll betray the organisation." Replies Dazai.

Mori tells him to stop thinking of such ideas "you're a smart kid. If you betray them you know you won't die easily." He also can't help but laugh at that.

"Ah I'm do bored, the world is so boring" Says Dazai. And we're told Dazai is not a subordinate of Mori nor the Port Mafia, nor a hidden child, or an orphan or a medical assistant.

Both:

The only thing that comes close to describing Dazai and Mori's relationship is that it was a fateful encounter.

Mori tells Dazai that he was the only one there when he inherited the previous Boss's seat. "You're a witness to his will, I can't have you dying so frivolously."

Anime:

Flashback to the former Port Mafia Boss's death. That he was giving ridiculous orders and out of his mind. Mori killed him and framed it as the Boss succumbing to his illness.

Stating the man's last order was for Mori to inherit his position. And Dazai was the only witness to this so called exchange.

Both:

Dazai tells Mori he made an error.

Anime:

Mori says that he made no error, that he and Dazai were successful in their mission together.

Dazai says that "the mission isn't complete until those were involved in the assassination are all silenced.

To that end I was the perfect accomplice. Even if I ended my life in a suicide of unknown motivation after you became Boss thanks to my testimony, no one would suspect a thing."

There's a silence between them before Mori tells Dazai he reminds him of someone.

Light Novel:

Mori asks Dazai what he means by him making an error. Dazai tells him he was smart to choose a suicidal accomplice "but even after a year I am still alive. Thanks to you, the seeds of anxiety won't dissappear."

For a moment Mori feels like ice is being pressed against his internal organs. He asks Dazai once again, what he means.

"I know there's a certain anxiety, anxiety about whether the previous Boss's assassination was leaked." All through this conversation Dazai's expression is unreadable.

Mori argues that they worked out a great strategy together a year ago. Also comments he'd never do it again because it was difficult.

Dazai says the strategy isn't complete until the person involved with the strategy and the forgery's mouth is sealed.

Mori feels like Dazai can see through him, there's terror inside of him that he's made a miscalculation: that Dazai should never have been made his accomplice.

"Right? To that end I was the perfect accomplice. Even if I ended my life in a suicide of unknown motivation after you became Boss thanks to my testimony, no one would suspect a thing."

They stare at each other in silence before Dazai says "what? It's fun to annoy authorities with troubling ideas, it's my new entertainment" with a silent, haunted look.

Mori observes him before unintentionally saying "you remind me of someone."

Both:

Dazai asks who and Mori doesn't answer him.

Anime:

"If I was going to silence you. I would have done it long ago. If you really want I can prepare something that'll end your life comfortably." Says Mori.

"Really?" Asks Dazai as Mori opens up a drawer "in exchange, I want to ask you to do a quick investigation."

Light Novel:

Mori gave a small smile and lowered his head slightly. "Don't tease your horns and make fun of adults. Have I sealed you up? I don't think so. If I was going to do that, I would have done it already.

It's easier than breathing. How many times do you think I stopped your suicide attempts this year? That's hard you know. Have you done something similar to the hero of a movie and released a bomb under a chair?"

Mori's inner monologue is just "Dazai can't die" because their are those in the Port Mafia who still support the previous Boss. And their are rumours his death was planned.

Mori tells Dazai that if you want it that much, he can give him some medicine that will give him comfortable death. "But I want to ask for a little research."

Both:

Mori writes something down and tells Dazai that it's not a big job and there is no danger. But that Dazai is the only one he can ask.

Dazai says it sounds sketchy.

Mori tells him that he's sure Dazai knows of Suribachi city. A certain someone has emerged in this vicinity. And he wants Dazai to investigate said rumour, giving him what is known as the Silver Oracle/Silver Messenger.

Something that if shown to any Port Mafia member, they will do whatever he asks. Dazai questions who this person is and Mori tells him to guess.

Anime:

Dazai says "a rumour that's harmful just by spreading... I see. So that's what going on, it's the previous Boss isn't it?

Light Novel:

Dazai stared at Mori for a while before speaking. "... There's no doubt that the Mafia's highest authority is worried about the rumour of the city.

It's an important rumour that cannot be thrown away. And if it's a rumour bad enough for the Silver Oracle to be used, it's probably the rumours themselves not the people spreading them.

Rumours where the truth must be confirmed and the source must be crushed. Rumours that do harm just by spreading.

And if the reason is to use me than an excellent subordinate, there can only be one person. What appeared was the previous Boss?"

Both:

Mori confirms his answer and remarks that some people can't be allowed to rise from the grave. Dazai takes the Silver Oracle, tells Mori to make him that medicine and is officially welcomed to the Port Mafia.

Light Novel:

Mori tells Dazai he reminds him of himself with vague sadness. And thinks about needing an assistant.

He was a secretary, a sword, an excellent right arm. And above all what you needed to be a street doctor, traitor and a power snatcher was a trusted subordinate.

One who didn't keep secrets, who understands himself, who keeps waving alone at the top of the iceberg. A mistake called Dazai invited by Mori.

He remarks to himself errors aren't always had, as Dazai was intended to be a disposable stone but has turned out to be oversized.

Anime:

Dazai asks who he reminds Mori of, Mori smirks says myself.

Both scenes end with Mori asking Dazai why it is he wants to die. To which Dazai replies "tell me this. Do you truly believe there's any value in the act of living?"

[emyn-arnens]

Random questions . . . any thoughts about the relationship between Eowyn and her parents? Or about her and Eomer growing up?

Thanks for the ask! 💛 This is at least two months late, I'm sure. I saw the notification, told myself I'd think up some headcanons, and then the summer flashed by in a blink.

Let's go with a little of both, and let's pretend that I can read and didn't miss the "growing up" part and focus most of my headcanons on Éowyn and Éomer's relationship as adults.

One of Éowyn’s fondest memories from her childhood is of her father setting her astride his mare and leading her around the paddock outside their home, while her mother calls encouraging words from outside the fence. Her father gives most of his attention to Éomer, so Éowyn cherishes the moments she spends with him. It’s one of the happiest moments she remembers before tragedy strikes.

She resents the despair her mother falls into after Éomund’s death, both because her mother pays less attention to her and because she feels it makes her mother weak. When she grows older and begins to experience the same despair, she resents it and works to shape it into cold determination so that she may not be thought to be weak.

She resents, too, that she must become a nursemaid to her mother (and that Éomer is not beholden to do so) until her aunts arrive and lighten the load, but feels guilty for feeling so about her mother and feels that a better daughter wouldn’t entertain such feelings.

One of the bright spots during her mother’s illness is her aunt Trewhild teaching her the basics of wielding a sword, during breaks from taking care of her mother. With a sword in her hands, Éowyn finally feels like she's no longer powerless.

Just before her mother dies, she gives Éowyn a knife that her own mother gave to her and tells her to always keep it with her. Later, when Gríma stalks the hall outside her bedroom in the late hours of night, she takes strength from her mother’s knife, tucked beneath her pillow (have to thank @hobbitwrangler for this one!).

As much as she loves her parents, she resents just a little that her childhood was stolen from her and she was made to grow up too soon. Théoden tries to provide her with a childhood in Meduseld, but Éowyn never quite feels like a child again after her parents' deaths.

When Théoden falls under Saruman’s thrall, Éowyn is reminded of how she felt when her mother was sick—powerless to heal her, resentful at being shut inside and having to be her mother’s nursemaid, and resentful that she feels that way she does. The intervening years don't make the emotions any easier to bear.

Éowyn always worries when Éomer rides off that one day he, like their father, may never return.

Upon Éomer’s banishment from Edoras, he quietly commands one of the few household men that he knows to be loyal to him and not under Gríma’s influence to discreetly watch Éowyn’s door at night. Gríma soon finds out and has the man thrown out of Meduseld.

After Éowyn returns to Edoras for Théoden’s funeral, Éomer and Éowyn have many long conversations about the mistreatment she endured at the hands of her family and its role in her suffering and despair.

Since Éowyn and Faramir refuse to have any weapons displayed in their home, Éomer hangs her sword and broken shield over the door to Meduseld, facing his throne. In time, stories spread among the people of Edoras that the arms of the Lady of the Shield-arm guard Meduseld from harm.

Éomer later changes the laws of succession to stipulate that the crown can pass to male or female heirs.

He is known by all to display a fearsome temper when cases of harassment, assault, rape, or abuse are brought before him, and he codifies strict laws regarding such cases.

Éowyn is widely known to be one of Éomer’s most trusted counselors (along with Lothíriel), such that she is considered an unofficial member of his council, and a seat at the council table is always reserved for her when she visits Meduseld.

Éowyn and Lothíriel get on like a house on fire, which Éomer enjoys most of the time, except for the times when he finds himself on the opposite side of an argument as them and the times when they conspire against him (which happens more frequently than he would like).

Relatedly, whenever Lothíriel is losing an argument, she plays the “Éowyn agrees with me” card, and Éomer is forced to capitulate because he knows his limits, and facing the combined ire of Lothíriel and Éowyn is more than one man can take on.

Éomer names one of his daughters after Éowyn (or gives her a name inspired by Éowyn and her deeds; I haven’t decided yet). Éowyn would likely do the same, but I’m very fond of Elboron being an only child.

Elboron and Elfwine (and his siblings) often spend months at a time living at each other’s homes, learning of the other culture and people they come from. It’s Éowyn’s idea to do so, and the people of Rohan and Gondor appreciate the additional strengthening of the alliance between their realms. The people of Edoras and Emyn Arnen, in particular, are always delighted when the heirs visit and take great joy in teaching them about the other half of their heritage.

[crushedsweets]

SUCKER suckerrrr snap out of it by arctic monkeys is sooo ninakate suckerr trust

i'm so ill. my hands shake and crack as i imagine ninakate living out their life. give me a moment to process. as per usual, im writing this as if i was planning out a one-shot song-fic.

someone remind me to do this with kill the director eventually

ok to begin. the song is from kates perspective to nina.. im imagining its after theyve had their weird little 'meaningless' kisses. IN THIS STORY, SHE KINDA LINGERS BACK TO JEFF ON AND OFF... also this is mostly sad theres barely a good ending im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry

nina is well integrated into the kate, clocky, toby, EJ friend group by this point. but every time she spends a few weeks trying to "work things out" with jeff, she's completely off in her own world. she withdraws from her friends, half cuz she's so focused on 'fixing' the doomed relationship and half cuz she's so embarrassed that she keeps going back and i think that shit is SOUL CRUSHING to kate. she hasn't had feelings for someone since . . . lauren . . . and she finally gets fragments of romance again, only for nina to constantly wander off after leading her on. also heavy on the 'fell in love, or near enough' cuz what nina and jeff has is not love 'i gotta tell you the truth' its eating kate alive. she doesnt really talk emotions and she never tells people what to do, but she just wants to scream bro.

i think toby, clocky, and ej have already exhausted themselves telling nina to give it up. EJ has tried gentle pieces of advice, clocky has bickered back and forth, and toby has outright screamed at nina to STOP GOING BACK TO HIM. and none of it did anything. but kate doesnt tell people what to do. the most she would do is raise a brow at nina and sigh and shake her head. i think this would eventually be a good bonding moment for kate and toby, where she confides in him about feeling like she missed her shot. toby tells her that she's never gonna 'miss her shot' ... especially w a girl as messy as nina...cuz evidently jeff did all that and still didnt miss HIS shot. LMFAO... but he'd encourage kate to get her shit together and just talk to nina about it. and for some reason nobody listens to tobys damn advice so kate just sits and waits.

ok this is just very straightforward. kate is constantly mulling over it and pissed and sad and bummed out. (oddly enough, tobys relieved to see her stressing over crushes instead of like.... being torn apart from the inside by a cryptic entity)

'it sounds like settling' down or givin' up, but it don't sound much like you, girl' OK i think this line works for kate AND nina.

toby would be saying something like this to kate. its kind of warped, cuz i think when kates in the chaser mode, she does not give up. she is persistent and she attacks with a goal. he's watched the chaser run to the brink of exhaustion, to the point where kate was bed ridden afterwards. SO WHY WOULD SHE GIVE UP ON SOMETHING AS SIMPLE AS A GIRL ?!?!?!

and in turn, kate would be thinking this towards nina. settling down doesnt seem like nina. giving up is also not like nina cuz she is also quite persistent until feelings fade... which frustrates kate cuz she gets stuck in this loop of 'even if she were to leave jeff, why would she settle for me? why would she stay with me? there's no point in getting deeper into this'

kate would eventually have to snap, as stories go. grabbing nina and confessing, going on about how fucking dumb nina is being. honestly, kate would probably accidentally choke out things she heard from EJ, clocky, and toby all scolding nina... which would either upset nina, or feel like a full circle moment where FINALLYYYYY all the shit that she's been told all this time has come together. and finally she can be like oh.... this is really embarrassing for me...... also oh my god wait

the idea of kate writing nina a letter. oh my god. wait. GUSY WAIT FUCK KATE WRITING NINA A LETTER WAIT FUCK FUCKKKKKKKKKKKK KATE WRITES HER A LETTER THATS CANON NOW IM SORRY IM SORRY IMSORRY

[meowzerswowzers]

Da big Shadow AU design doc

Decided to put together a little design document for my Shadow Is The Main Character AU. Most of this contains old art I've already posted, but it's helpful to put it side by side with the info for visual clarity.

Shadow is the protagonist au:

just a fun "what if" alternate history for sonic as a series. What if Shadow was the series' main character? How would it shape the tone and story of Sonic?

The Thesis:

To me, a lot of Sonic is about meeting people and helping them overcome their struggles. For Shadow, I picture the inverse. The people Shadow meets makes him a better person. Think a Yusuke Urameshi sort of journey.

Color palette identity:

Sonic is characterized with a lot of primary colors. It gives me the feeling of a bright waterpark. There's a lot of beachside imagery in Sonic that lends to this too.

For Shadow, something darker but not bleak is a good equivalent. Like those fun arcade carpets. If the idea is the series is still created in the 90s, but with Shadow as title character, the tone should reflect the sort of in-vogue imagery of the time.

Shadow's 2000s style COOL wasn't a thing yet. It would be something a little different...

Here's a scene I never fully colored, but it + my reference images kinda help get the idea across.

The Story:

Shadow's backstory largely remains the same. He is created by Gerald Robotnik in an attempt to find a cure for Maria's illness. The project is ended in the same hostile way, Maria sends Shadow to Earth to escape, she does not make it.

Shadow remains in a deep sleep where he lands, until the site is one day disturbed…

Fastforward:

Eggman has known about his grandfather's creation for his whole life. Despite his own innovations, he can never seem to get his world domination plans off the ground. Knowing what he does about Shadow, he's convinced that some part of his remains must still be out there. For years, he searches, until he is eventually successful.

Eggman finds the ruins of the crash site. There, he is determined to revive Shadow.

Picture the part of Megaman Zero where Ciel first finds Zero. That's the vibe.

Shadow knows who he is, who created him, but the details about his last moments aboard the Ark are fuzzy. Eggman introduces himself as part of Shadow's family, informing him Gerald was indeed his grandfather and Maria his cousin. He takes on a faux sympathetic role, telling Shadow all that's transpired since the loss of the Ark. Taking advantage of Shadow's lost memory, it is all too easy for Eggman to entice him to take revenge.

Shadow joins Eggman's side and a successful campaign to conquer the world ensues. But while Shadow is plagued by doubts, it takes far too long for him to realize this isn't what Maria would have wanted.

Eggman rules the planet.

Fastforward again:

Consumed with guilt, Shadow decides the only way for him to make amends for the destruction he's helped cause, is to turn against Eggman.

And so, Shadow's journey begins! This would be where the series starts. From here, Shadow continues to meet new friends who help him heal.

The Characters:

Shadow:

Design wise, he needed something to visually set him apart from Shadow as he currently is. I'm personally too big of a fan of his design to change much about him though, so I settled on a little tattered capelet that visually echoes Eggman's post SA1 coat. It shows his ties to Eggman, while also getting the idea across that he no longer holds allegiance to him.

Eggman:

Eggman is in complete control in this world (save for that pesky hedgehog). I wanted his design to reflect how much more laid back he is here. That corporate bigwig that brandishes luxury athleasure. He hasn't a care~

There's a bit of dark comedy and industrialism to his reign. Most goods are branded by him, he probably has his own fashion line. You'll love the new Eggman power suits, because you don't have any other options. There is some animosity on a personal level between him and Shadow too, but see Metal Shadow's section for that.

Tails:

Tails is still a work in progress, so I have less to write about him unfortunately. He and Shadow have a rocky start that later forms into the brotherly bond he and Sonic have. Tails marks Shadow's commitment to make things right. He's the first person he is able to rescue from Eggman. But that trust is hard earned, as Shadow's involvement can't be ignored. Eventually forgiven, but not forgotten.

Amy:

Amy's design is mostly just her Fleetway look, with a few touches of Shadow's colors to tie her to the setting. Amy is a waitress at a roadside coffee shop. But she's not satisfied with a lackluster job in Eggman's world. Amy has dreams of being a hero. By day, she is taking orders for waffles and pancakes, by night, she is a self proclaimed "vigilante of justice"! (Which mostly involves her sticking it to the man by smashing stuff with her hammer.)

Shadow and Tails meet her on their journey when they stop at the cafe for lunch. Shadow later meets her again during a late night of her smashing parking meters and other Eggman property.

Amy does have a crush on Shadow, but the difference is that she's eager to hide it. (yes, yes you can make your tsundere jokes now.)

Shadow may or may not feel something for her too (he isn't sure), but it's a limbo sort of romance sub plot. Forever sorta stays in the "will they, won't they" territory. Feels different enough from Sonic and Amy's one sided dynamic, while not straying too far either. Both versions never see any real resolution.

Metal Shadow:

Metal Shadow has his own side plot/character arc going on. Eggman creates him much in the same way as Metal Sonic. He's a tool meant to aid his fight against Shadow.

Eggman has a personal axe to grind here though. Harking on his dialog in Sonic Frontiers about how everyone ignored him in favor of Maria (and ykno. Generally being happy about the idea of Sage being like a daughter to him) Eggman does have a real want for a family connection. Shadow turning against him was another notch in the ol' abandonment issues. Metal Shadow may have also been made to fill some of that void. However, now that he's here, Metal Shadow is just a reminder of what's gone. While proud of his creation, Eggman resents Metal Shadow. Metal Shadow in turn, is a little confused.

oh yea and i still gotta hit him with a train somehow.

[bartychaser]

Hey, ehm so, what I’m about to share is really personal and might trigger people who have to fight bullying and mental and/or physical illnesses bc mention of suicidal tendencies.

Idk what exactly it was but (on Pinterest I believe) someone was like “Yeah but why are there people hating on James? He’s so funny and cool with his pranks and Snivellus, just get your shit together” no he is not and I won’t get my “shit” together.

For me personally he triggers self destructive feelings and behaviours that kept building up since SECOND grade (until 10th I believe it was… could also be beginning of 11th) because there where so many ✨funny and cool✨ people who picked their “Snivellus” and spoiler alert it was always me. They pulled so many funny comments and pranks one me that almost cost me my life in the end and they were not done until 10th grade ended. They bullied me with the knowledge that I was ill in some way bc I told them I was seriously and most probably dangerously ill but at that time we didn’t exactly know what it was.

They bullied me for my illness and that illness wasn’t just “being weird randomly” that illness was a fucking brain tumor (luckily not cancer, I’m fine since I had surgery) that caused an epilepsy which is one of a kind.

The most common form of epilepsy is cramps, lying on the floor, looking funny with the drool dribbling down the chin and almost biting off their tongues (yes that can happen… my cousin is badly disabled bc a seizure damaged his brain at 3 months old).

I had a form of epilepsy which my doctors said they’ve never seen before though they were working in that business for over 40 years and they did their research when they heard about me. I was kind of the only person ever known in german medical studies in the last at least 40 years with those form of seizures. And because they were so unique they fucking sent me to a psychiatry because the doctor I’ve been to MULTIPLE TIMES before always said “Nah you’re just mental”. That also was funny enough to pick on me, rubbing in my face that I was a freak and ill and couldn’t do anything about it and I cannot count how many times I’ve prayed to not wake up. Because of people that acted just like James.

I have the right to hate him because in reality I fear him. I fear people like him because getting to have them in my life almost cost me my life and I’m so damn sure they would’ve laughed it off if I one day stopped showing up and my teacher would have stand in front of them crying because he lost the student that reminds him “so much of his sister” (that’s a quote btw) and had to tell them. I’m so afraid of James-like people and therefore I hate him. Not because he is James, James as a character has nothing to do with my past but he was the reason for another’s miserable past if you know what I mean. And every time he is mentioned making fun of Snape or pulling pranks that harm others (mentally or physically) and not only to annoy them bc that actually is funny, I feel those feelings crawling up again and I know it’s not healthy in any way bc he is just a fictional character and that is enough to get me flashbacks but it is what it is so don’t fucking ever try to tell James-dislikers who’ve openly been through similar things that ✨it’s just fun✨. For people in their past it, too, was just fun, for you it might just be fun, but for people who suffered under that fun it’s not. And not a single soul deserves that. There is not one human being who deserves to be picked on/bullied because others want to have some fun.

And no, I don’t mean to hate on James-likers bc yes, in some storys he really is cool and nice and funny and I can understand what you like about him but looking at what is shown to us in books and films he was a fucking prick who loved bullying Severus and making his time at school a part of his life he probably wishes never happened and that triggers my hate-fear if you know what I mean. I’m not trying to say your just like him, making others wanna end them or something, I’m just saying that there often is a sirius reason to dislike a character other than wanting to be different and cool or whatsoever. Sometimes you try to make someone like James with saying things that actually are triggering like “Hahaha it’s fun” Doesn’t mean you can’t try but be careful and always be respectful with trauma which really can be triggered by just one sentence or character.

I know it’s difficult and I do know there are almost no people who communicate/share their trauma just like I did but sometimes people dare doing this bc on social media they can be anonymous just like me. If my former class mates would read this they had no clue it was me. If my brother read this he had no clue it was me, you get my point? But others don’t have that anonymity bc they already published their name/face whatsoever and if anyone they know would see this they would really be fucked. At some point you probably will trigger someone but that inevitably and that’s okay because you can’t see what they’ve been through and you didn’t do it in purpose. But if someone tells you to just leave that topic no matter which topic, there. Is. A. Reason. (Probably) Respect their “no”

P.S. okay that sounds a little aggressive and guilt tripping, I’m sorry but I don’t know how to say that otherwise that was not my intention😭

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

A Trapped God's Woes

-----

The sound of a non-existent clock rang through her ears with every single second that ticked by. She didn’t even know why she bothered to count the seconds, yet every single one seemed to feel like a stake being pierced into her heart, deeper and deeper; a cold metal spike that impaled her very soul, if she even had one to begin with. Souls are a human concept, after all. Seconds so small stacked up so quickly, it seemed, and she was beginning to wonder if keeping track was even worth the effort. 94 million seconds, she reckoned, have passed her by. 94 million seconds of entanglement.

Her cold hands clasped behind her back as each step she made caused the rotten floorboards below her to creak. The sight of peeling wallpaper around her was all too familiar to her, yet the sight of the outside world was beginning to feel like a distant memory. No, she thought, I will see the light again; a promise she made to herself every day despite her foggy mind being incapable of making that assurance. 

The sound of droning machinery on the other side of the walls felt like discordant singing, the notes meshing together into a conglomerate of sounds and feelings that made Her wish to tear her ears off to prevent herself from hearing it; Taunting melodies telling the story of how a god in human clothing let herself fall into a trap even a rabbit wouldn’t be fooled by, and for what? For the chance to fix her own failings? To set a sequence of events in motion to lead to an end goal decided from the very beginning? Or perhaps she was simply desperate for any way to regain control of something incapable of being controlled. No matter the reason, she had made the wrong choice, and now she suffered the consequences.

Despite how she loathed them, she began to wonder if the groans and creaks of the machinery outside the window in her room were a better alternative than the pure, unbearable silence she now dealt with within her subconscious. A lonely mind that was once constantly bombarded by new information, being spoken to by voices unknown for guidance. Those voices made her feel ill even remembering them; the voices of her previous captors that disguised themselves as her employers. Were the Combine truly a better fate than being a slave to a mightier power? She wondered such, though the entrapment of the Vault was beginning to take its toll. 

How long could she stand remaining in her cell before she fully lost herself? Who was she to begin with? What did she love? What did she despise? What was her goal in her life? Answers for her questions never arrived, with the realization that she didn’t know being unfamiliar to her. She knew the answers to questions humanity has asked for generations, yet she cannot begin to comprehend what her true purpose was. Was she truly put in the universe to serve a greater power; To be shackled to other beings’ will? 

What was she?

She paused to look at the mirror on the wall, one she failed to notice until that very moment. Looking into her reflection, she was pulled out of her thoughts, leaving her to approach the cracked glass in front of her. Beholding her was a reflection of an old face, one she had picked so very long ago. Her eyes had a hollow pale-blue glow to them as she made eye-contact with herself, lightly brushing her own cheek with one of her hands. She wasn’t human, despite her facade, and she knew that fact well. She would never be human, no matter how she dressed or how her face looked; her eyes told that story for her. Her reflection made her sick in a way she had never felt before, and as she continued to stare at the mirror, her face contorted into a look of rage, all before the glass shattered and fell to the ground in front of her feet. She stormed away, leaving behind the shards of the mirror. 

She never realized that her first true experience with fear would have been imprisonment.

[larcenywrites]

Headcanons | Raising Kids Together

Tony Stark x Reader

Iron Man is a family man now! And his toughest battle yet is navigating parenthood while also juggling, like, the rest of the world. 

Warnings: Mild swearing (like twice), one very mild sexual reference

Family Man Series: 1  2  3

💠Adores his two sons. Will do anything for them. Which usually means spoiling them way too much 🤐

💠Which means they sort of strive for his attention. It works out in your favor, though, because suddenly they're on their best behavior and doing their chores without question.

💠The older they get, the more excited he is that they’ll get to do the things he does! There’s so much he can teach them and so much they could do together!

💠Realizes that was probably exactly how his dad felt. And look how that relationship went :/ 

💠Suddenly worries about that exact situation. He is going to do anything he can to try and avoid it. He'll wait until they express interest in that sort of thing, for starters

💠But if they never express an interest he is going to be a little sad :(

💠… cue all the amount of Legos and Ages 5-10 Science Kits he can find. Maybe it’ll help in a, like, indirect fun way, right? Maybe? Who knows, but he had more fun with that “grow your own geode” kit than the rest of you did!

💠The older they get the more they also look like him. He was definitely there when they were made! They got his dark hair and cute cheeks, and now you had three pairs of brown puppy eyes that could get you to do damn near anything. 

💠They did take some of their dad's temperament. They were too clever for their own good and always up to something, but they were usually too busy bickering to actually get it done. You weren't sure if that was a blessing or a curse because at least they were too sidetracked now to take apart the Wii. Again! 

💠And no, they never put back together the things they take apart. That was dad's job. 

💠And sometimes money's job. 

💠They can be pretty sassy, and sometimes Tony sasses them right back! You don't let him get away with it even when it is funny.

💠They’re not exactly sweet angels to begin with, but when dad's gone they get a little extra ill. They're just sad that he's gone and don't know how to deal with it, so you definitely need to put the 'gentle' in gentle parenting during these times. It's not their fault 💔

💠They don't know why he leaves. He doesn't want them to know much about Iron Man, and definitely not that it's him. Which is really hard to do when you're out in public because everyone else knows.

💠It’s also hard having to lie to them when they ask where daddy is, or when he’ll be back ☹️

💠News channels are always parental locked on the tv for this reason

💠The lab is also very off limits for this reason. Among others, of course, including the fact that it’s not exactly a child-safe environment to begin with. Eventually he’ll let them in, but first he has to deal with all those suits that are just sorta standing around.

💠It’s a bit weird, actually, isn’t it?

💠Tony gets upset when he finds out that some of the stories you tell at bedtime are actually about him. He only finds out because when he puts the boys to bed one night, they're asking him to tell one of those 'superhero' stories that you tell. He's instantly suspicious and asks for an example... It's something very familiar to him. He hesitates, but... they seem to really enjoy hearing them.

💠It takes him a minute to think of one he's okay with sharing, but they’ve already heard it 💀

💠They don't know it's really their dad they're talking about, of course, but it makes him feel pretty good when they talk about how cool he is. And don't forget brave, and smart, and handsome!

💠There are some days when Tony comes home and just feels like absolute shit. Usually physically, but there's always a toll taken on his mental health too. He always perks up at the sound of his troublemakers running his way; and no matter how bad he feels, he's picking them up or bending down to hug them.  Sometimes he's visibly roughed up, but don’t worry they’ll kiss those scrapes on his cheek better ❤️‍🩹

💠His sons follow him everywhere when he gets home. They go where he goes and they do what he does! And he's more than happy to have them padding along with him… for a bit. Even the best dad in the world needs a break. So when he’s not locked in your bedroom or in the lab, you’ll catch them all sitting in the same cross legged position on the couch, or they all have that exact same focus on their faces while playing Jenga or reviewing the instruction sheet for some Lego set.

💠He occasionally jokes to the others that it’s nice to get away sometimes but it’s really not. Doesn't usually have time to call or facetime but he tries to text when he can. He has a pretty hard time leaving you guys.

💠Even when it does mean he gets to escape an argument, or not have to be the one that deals with whatever your kids are currently doing with those shovels and plastic hard hats- wait!

💠Sometimes they hide from him when he has to leave again. Not to be silly, though. They're mad at him. They don't understand why he's leaving again :(

💠Whatever bullshit Tony's being called in for suddenly doesn't matter. He's going to sit outside that pillow fort and talk to them until he gets his goodbye hugs!! And he always manages to make them laugh before he goes. Refuses to leave them sad and upset with him.

💠Tries to make up for it by occasionally bringing something back from wherever he's been. Plus, it kind of helps them associate him leaving with him coming back with ✨cool stuff✨ and who doesn't want cool stuff?

💠They get excited about anything he brings back. Plushies, weird candy, a freaky glowing rock that he had to swear up and down wasn't radioactive. You name it!

💠Except for a pet, though. He can't quite commit to that one yet.

💠But speaking of freaky glowing things…

💠Eventually they get curious about that ghostly blue "thing" on his chest. He's had it for their whole lives, so they never really questioned it until one of them realized: wait… no one else has a weird glowy circle thing in their chest. 

💠He tries to avoid the question at all costs. 

💠"I'll tell you when you're older" was only met with a drawn-out no and tell us. He can’t resist the pitiful pouts on their faces. There was no harm in telling them the truth about it, or at least some of the truth.

💠He has way too much fun with it first.

💠You hear everything from "it's a flashlight" to "it's a bomb". The latter resulting in a rather comical scream-and-run combo, only for them to return with blankets and promptly throwing them over their father's head. And maybe you had to step in to make sure they didn't actually smother him. 

💠And yes, one of the first things your kids learned was various fire safety and suppression tips. What gave it away? 

💠 And we can't forget Tony's loyal AI assistant! You'd say that it was creepy how you'd walk by the playroom to overhear your kids having a random conversation with JARVIS, but sometimes you were guilty of doing the same, so it could slide. 

💠They really like talking to that disembodied English accent, and you're pretty sure JARVIS likes talking with them too. Sometimes. 

💠"JARVIS, where do babies come from?"

💠"I… you may need to ask your parents." Not even an AI wants to deal with that one 🤧

💠Don't worry, there's a parental lock on JARVIS and his answers too.

💠Eventually Tony let’s them into the lab, but they tend to poke around when he’s not paying attention. Their dear father isn’t the best supervisor when he’s busy working.

💠"Daddy, what’s this?" is always the scariest phrase that breaks him out of any thought and focus because only god knows what all could be found in this lab. He usually puts away the dangerous stuff unless he’s directly working on it, but rarely they still manage to dig up a hand-piece that is very capable of shooting a hole in the wall

💠They did, in fact, shoot a hole in the wall. And learned a new word that they aren't allowed to repeat!

💠Imagine your surprise when they excitedly told you about it over dinner, including that new word! And Tony’s surprise when you only let him off with a little warning

💠He could just lock them out but they want in so bad! And he wants them with him! But...

💠He realizes the best way to keep an eye on them was to just make them a part of what he was doing. If they wanted to, of course

💠This is where they really start to take after that Stark name, much to his joy. He's very proud to see them want to learn and catch on to how things work. They don't really know what they're doing, but they're having a good time! 

💠Until one of them gets jealous of the other for getting to hold or use a different tool or they argue over which wire should go where. 

💠Next lesson is to teach them how to actually put the Wii back together

💠It’s incredibly tough keeping up with them all by yourself when he’s gone, but you do it and you do it well! And Tony cannot express enough how much he appreciates you for it

💠No, really. He can’t. As soon as he finally has you under him and starts kissing at your neck he’s interrupted by the door slamming open and two little Starks piling on top of you both.

💠"What did I tell you two?" Tony’s defeated sigh doesn't bother them at all. They have no clue why he would be frustrated with them.

💠"Sleep." "Go to sleep." 

💠"And you’re in here because…"

💠"You never said where to sleep!"

💠Well, the three of you thought it was funny, but dad was way too tired for this. Maybe it was time for a parents-only vacation

Family Man Series: 1  2  3

[jo-harrington]

My unsolicited predictions for Hoard

Not that anyone cares, but this is just my disclaimer before I write my own fucked up fic featuring this visually delicious and obviously gross character Michael who we know nothing about yet. Because I like gross boys. (My R character is not in place of Maria or even related to this hoarding situation. She will be someone random off who encounters a gross boy and wants to fuck him.)

The movie is coming from the perspective of this girl who lived with a mentally ill mother (the hoarding) and is in foster care and has been for a long time. I'm gonna say it once and twice and again, it's gonna be a psychologically fucked up story featuring a mentally ill girl who is coping with the shitty hand she's been dealt in the shitty environment that she's in. Including using her foster mother and potentially this character Michael as devices for said coping.

The director herself has come out and said that writing this in 2020 she was faced with her own past and memories and even used it as a coping mechanism. And it would have stayed some kind of disgusting vestige of her creativity for whoever found it if she hadn't actually gone through with creating the film. It is a manic nightmare featuring the vaults of her past come to life.

One the OFF CHANCE WE ARE LOOKING AT THIS FROM A LITERAL WINDOW AND THERE IS NO FUCKED UP, PSYCHOLOGICAL THING HAPPENING, sure maybe Michael is preying on a 17 year old. If that's the case, consider anything I may write some kind of original story (I mean we know nothing about him aside from his looks and 2 lines right? And how JQ portrays him.)

My predictions now: this is a movie about Maria. A girl who is "hoarding" fantasies and begins coveting and storing feelings because it's what she's grown up around. She's never had a life with healthy coping mechanisms, never had a life where she was truly wanted by someone. She is projecting every interaction that she has with anyone into a twisted version of reality where she maybe is wanted. By someone, this man, versus no one, which is the hard truth.

As for the sex scene and intimacy coordination, I feel like--as with many psychologically challenging movies--we're gonna get some kind of psychedelic sex scene where JQ is with the foster mother and Maria listens and imagines herself in that situation because she's never been wanted before. Its going to be layered and weird and manic.

This could be a story that needs to be told, one that is compelling to tell, and should be listened to.

And in the mean time, I'm gonna lust over this fake gross man until maybe I can't anymore. Because the actor who plays him is hot.

[assortedseaglass]

The Seamstress & The Sailor - Chapter Two

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Teeny bit of language

Word Count: 2.1K

Note: Hi everyone! Thank you for the love on the last chapter. This fic is quite special to my heart; my maternal grandparents lived around Manchester during WWII, and began their relationship at that time. We have some beautiful letters that my grandad wrote to my grandma while he was stationed abroad. She was also a seamstress, when war breaks out in the story I’m going to give Bess the same job that she had in the war, and the other Vaughn girls the job that my paternal grandmother, a factory girl, did.

I also kept writing Ida instead of Bess. Still in Come Back To Me mode.

“Damn.” The needle between Bess’ fingers snapped. She didn’t realise how tightly she had been holding it, and the stiff fabric of Mrs Chase’s suit was one task too many for it. She rummaged in her sewing box for a spare but dropped it immediately between the floorboards of the kitchen. Bess didn’t have the energy to swear again, and for a moment stared at the spot where the needle had disappeared. She’d been absentminded all day.

“Your feet are freezing,” Dot had grumbled that morning, from her spot in the bed that the two shared. Bess didn’t bother putting on her woollen socks. A moment later, Cora burst threw the door. Bess saw that her single bed in the corner was already made.

“Get up you two.” She left, leaving the door open behind her. Bess looked at the clock. 7am. The five Vaughns barely spoke over breakfast. Cora slammed a plate of eggs and bacon on the table, but didn’t touch a morsel herself. Fergal and Albie ate it in a rush before heading to the docks in silence. Between fiery outbursts and tears, Dot had hurried to the factory to begin her shift, leaving Cora behind to clear up.

“I’ll do it,” Bess said sullenly, watching her sister fret about being late for her own shift. It would be different tomorrow, but for today, the Vaughns let themselves wallow.  

Bess pulled on her brogues, tucked her purse into her trouser pocket and made her way to the shop on the corner. The sun was warm against her face. She knew that the rest of the day was to be spent indoors and so she took her time. Hands tucked into her pockets, she strolled relaxedly on the cobbles of the street. Up ahead, a few young men were heading home from their shift at the dockyard; Bess knew it from the symbol stitched into their jumpers, the same as her father’s. They fell silent as they watched her approach.

“Afternoon,” she said to them lowly.

“Afternoon, Bess.” One of the men, Frank she thought it was, said.

“You going to the dancehall tonight, Bess?” asked Walter.

“Not tonight,”

“What about tomorrow?” Frank said as Bess passed them.

“We’ll see,” she replied, not bothering to turn her head. Frank Smith and Walter Watson were in Cora’s class at school. One day, when Cora had been ill and Bess had not long started, they followed her home and poured a carton of soured milk over her. That had been the beginning of Bess’ tumultuous time at school. Girls never included her in their games. The boys used to lift up her skirt and tell her she was disgusting. Cora would shout at them until she was blue in the face, but it never made any difference. Creep, ugly, Paddy, witch. Bess was quiet yes, and kept to herself, but she had never understood why the children at school hated her so. That was the great work of the Vaughn girls’ mother; instilling in them a quiet, gentle confidence. The bullying eventually stopped when their mother had turned up at the school gates to see one of the girls cut out a chunk of Bess’ hair. No sooner had the offender giggled maliciously was Etta Vaughn storming across the playground with her nail scissors to do the very same.

It wasn’t until Bess came back from her summer in central Manchester that she noticed the real shift. One of the new mothers at the hospital where Etta worked as a nurse had seen Bess meet her mother after work. Commenting on the spring dress she wore, the lady discovered that the teenage Bess had made it herself. Impressed with her work, she invited her to train at her aunt’s dressmaking business in Manchester for the summer. There, Bess met other independent young women. She read Vogue. Handled fabrics from all over the world and attended some of the richest women in that part of the country. Her quiet confidence appealed to the women that came to the atelier’s; this was a young woman who clearly knew what she was doing. Over that summer, Bess became a woman. When she returned to Longsight, everyone else noticed too. She walked a little slower with her head held higher. She wore trousers. She often left her down and didn’t wear makeup, “like one of those Bohemian French women”. When she did, her curls and red lipstick were polished to perfection. Still she didn’t speak unless she had something to say and this, combined with her assuredness, only made her more appealing. Girls wanted to be friends with her, and boys wanted to be with her, Frank Smith and Walter Watson included. Bess, of course, remained uninterested in them all. All, expect her family, a few family friends and her gang of girls. Roberta, Hattie and Jude.

The only boy who never gawped at her when she grew up, or bullied her as a child, was Tom Bennett. By the time she reached the corner shop, bought a new packet of needles and begun the journey home, she had thought of nothing but Tom. She was just remembering the time he gave her blue chiffon for her birthday (she didn’t ask how he got it), when she walked into the postman.

“God, sorry Postie,” Bess picked up the letters she had caused him to drop. Dennis Warley adjusted his hat and gave Bess a sharp look.

“Got a few for you lot,” he said tersely, rooting threw his bag. He handed a bundle to Bess. There were two letters for Fergal, one for Cora and a packet of larger envelopes for Bess. “Those dress patterns?” He asked. Bess nodded, not looking up from the bundle.

“Thank you,” she murmured, walking the few steps to the front door.

“Perhaps you could make yourself a dress next time.”

Bess slowly turned and fixed Dennis Warley with a hard stare. She watched as his eyes ran over her jumper, the wide trousers, the brogues, the scarf keeping her uncurled hair back. He sneered and resumed his deliveries. Bess slammed the door behind her and continued her work. For an hour, she worked furiously on the sleeves of the red tweed suit that Mrs Chase had ordered before giving up for the day and collapsing in her dad’s armchair. The sun through the net curtain cast a hazy hue across the room and, glancing at her mother’s portrait on the mantelpiece, Bess drifted into sleep.

Two hands slammed on the kitchen table and Bess near fell out of the chair. “You know this fabric has an iron mark on it?” Tom Bennett leant against the table, cigarette hanging jauntily from his lips.

“You’re lying,” Bess said groggily. Tom winked. “Don’t normally see you in the afternoon.”

“Just collected those car parts. Dropped ‘em off at home but dad’s off flogging his paper and Lois is at work. I’m bored.”

“Dadda said there’s shifts going at the dockyard, if you fancy working properly.”

“No ladies down the dockyard.”

Bess rolled her eyes and indicated to his cigarette. “Give us one.” Tom lit another and handed it to her while he sat at the kitchen table. The sun was streaming into the room, and he leant back into the light. Bess did the same, curling into the armchair. They were silent for a long while.

“You coming to the dancehall tonight? Lois is singing,” Tom enquired, eyes still closed.

“Can’t tonight,” Bess opened her own to look at her mother’s portrait once more. “It’s mam’s birthday.”

“Shit, I’m sorry Bess, I should’ve remembered.”

“Don’t be silly.” Their silenced resumed. Tom watched her gazing at her mother, and Bess could feel his eyes on her. She stood abruptly from the armchair and sat opposite Tom at the table. She didn’t look at him when she spoke quietly. “I miss her so much.”

“I know,” Tom coughed awkwardly and shifted in his seat. “It gets easier, I promise. You never stop missing her, but it gets easier.” Bess took his hand across the table. Tom had five years grief on Bess’. Where the other’s grief was loud and all consuming, Tom and Bess’ was silent and simmering. Tom could count on one hand the number of times they had spoken about their mothers’ deaths. They finished their cigarettes.

“Do you mind if I get back to sewing?” Tom shook his head and watched her at her work. He often thought about why he was so drawn to Bess. They weren’t friends as children, Tom spent his time mucking around with Albie and teasing their sisters. He wasn’t entirely sure if they were friends now. But he had always found her calming, unusual. Like Lois, she was one of the few people that could settle him, deal with his antics and, on the most part, accepted him for it. When Etta Vaughn died three years ago, Tom found Bess crying in one of the ginnels at the back of the houses, crouched on the floor, body wracked with violent sobs. Since then, he had been sneaking into the Vaughn house regularly. Bess had a spare key cut when he and Douglas were going through a particularly fraught period. “So you can stop climbing through the window. Dadda’d kill you if he found you in a bedroom with his three daughters.” He continued to study her while she worked. Her dark, copper hair was frizzy, kept off her face by a silk scarf. One trousered leg was leant against the chair opposite her, and her tongue stuck out between her lips. He stared at it a moment.

“I’m off,” he announced, jumping up. “Any birthday cake left?”

“In the tin by the stove.”

“I hope it goes well tonight,”

Bess paused her sewing. “Thanks, Tom.”

*

Bess helped Cora make dinner that evening, vegetable stew and a fresh loaf. Fergal sat in the rocking chair by the fire as soon as he arrived home, sipping whiskey and uttering not a word. Albie sat at the table with Dot, playing a lacklustre game of snap. Before their dinner, Cora took Fergal’s hand and led them in a prayer. Dot reached for Etta’s photograph and propped it on the table. They spoke about their days in turn. When Fergal had finished, he refilled his glass of whiskey.

“Careful, dadda.” Cora said gently.

“Careful what?” His voiced slurred between the words.

“That’s your fourth glass.”

“I shall drink to my wife’s memory as much as I please,” he downed the drink.

“But mam didn’t like drink, dadda,” added Albie.

“Oh hush with you!” Fergal shouted at the pair of them, standing up. Dot started to dry. “BE QUIET!”

“Leave her alone, dadda.” Bess said firmly.

“Oh, so you’ve found your voice!?”

Bess rolled her eyes. “And you yours.”

Fergal swiped his arm over the table and sent his bowl of stew flying across the room, bits of vegetable sticking to the wall. He grabbed his coat from its hook and made for the door.

“Where are you going?” Cora called after him, wrapping her arm around the still sobbing Dot.

“The one place I can drink in peace. THE PUB!” He staggered into the street, the door hitting the wall behind him and letting in the cool air.

“Dry your eyes, Dot.” Albie said.

“I wish mam was here,” she sniffed. Bess sighed and gazed out of the open door towards the Bennett’s house. Through the window she could see the family of three at the table, laughing together, Lois already in her finery for her night of singing. God, she wished she could go dancing.

Notes: One more chapter and then we’ll be joining the tv’s timeline. Thanks for all the positive words on the last chapter – I’m starting to get into the flow of this fic. The next chapter will pick up the pace, we’re going to the dancehall!

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