#we’re not taught anything about our hair. not only that but we’re taught everything about our hair is bad

[diamondrib]

fun fact all those people who talk about how type 4 hair and dealing with it sucks are right but in a nuanced way where it’s actually systemic racism’s fault and not anything about our hair itself making it uniquely shitty

[justcallmefox89]

Gale and the Gith: Chapter Eight - Eavesdropping Part II

X'aa'nath finally shows Gale how he feels.

“It seems that we’ve lost our audience, my dear,” Astarion murmurs, running the brush through my hair one last time.

I shrug, trying to appear unbothered, as if I’m not hyperaware of Gale’s movements every time he is near me, as if seeing him smile is not the brightest part of my day.

What sentimental drivel.  How far I have fallen…

“Normally I don’t advocate for such things, but have you considered just talking to Gale?”

I glance over my shoulder at the vampire, confused.  “About what?”

“Oh by the hells,” Astarion sighs.  “Anything?  Everything?  Whatever it is that has the two of you so discombobulated?”

I hunch my shoulders, curling in on myself.  “Purification is our only goal.  After that Lae’zel and I will reunite with our kin.  The wizard is a distraction.”

“I’d find that a lot easier to believe if you didn’t look so miserable while you say it,” he says, languidly reclining back onto his bedroll.

“I am not… That is, I don’t…” I take a deep breath, picking at a loose thread on my trousers in an attempt to settle my nerves.  “I do not have experience in matters like this.  I don’t understand how to do… this.  Whatever this is.”

“Oh.”  Astarion sits up slowly.  “Oh dear.”

*Later that evening*

I’m beginning to think that Khou’zal left out some of the finer points of my education.

My earlier conversation with Astarion has at least filled in a few of the blanks concerning humans and their mating rituals, but it leaves me no closer to knowing what to do in regard to the wizard.  I grunt in frustration and scrub my hands over my face.

The first person to ever stir my blood is a human.  Of course it is.  Not a fellow gith, or a dragonborn, not even an elf.  But a human.  Between the tadpole and this Vlaakith must be testing me.

Without thinking I raise my head and search the camp for the reason for my inner turmoil. 

Gale stands outside his tent casting a spell, uniting tendrils of Weave together to form the likeness of a woman.  Cursing myself for my curiosity I creep closer to observe, wrinkling my nose in distaste when I recognize the subject of his spell.

“That’s that deity you wizards adore.  Mystra, right?”

Gale twitches and the image of the goddess fades away.  “Oh!  My, you startled me.  I… I was miles away.”

“Care to tell me why you were conjuring an image of the goddess?” I ask, eyeing him curiously.

“Just pondering what I lost.  Mystra commands all magic.  Salvation, if such a thing exists is hers to bestow or withhold.”

She doesn’t command my magic.

I conjure a miniature ball of lighting to reassure myself, silently thanking Vlaakith that I was chosen by the storm.  Something I’ve done more often since meeting Gale and learning of the limitations of wizards and their goddess.

“And yet, even now, more than I fear losing my own self and soul, I fear losing my command of her art,” Gale continues.  “Magic is… my life.  I’ve been in touch with the Weave for as long as I can remember.  There’s nothing like it.  It’s like music, poetry, physical beauty all rolled into one and given expression through the senses.  Is it the same for you?”

I tilt my head to one side, considering.  “The elements of the storm live within me.  I am magic.  While talented, you still had to be taught the command of magic.  It is like music.  While you need it written down, I can play it by ear.”

“Fair enough – though in the end we’re still playing the same composition.”

“One of us is playing it slightly better though,” I mumble.

“What’s that?” Gale asks, raising one eyebrow in question.

“Nothing!”

He smirks at me knowingly.  “Perhaps I can show you what I mean by reaching into the Weave together.”

“By all means.”

“Then follow my lead,” Gale mumurs, moving closer to me.

His proximity and the tone of his voice send a small thrill down my spine, and I have to force myself to focus on his next words.

Gale makes a series of hands gestures, Weave sparking between his fingertips, then nods to me.  “Now you.”

I glance over at him skeptically, then imitate the gestures with ease, the Weave obeying me as easily at it did Gale.  As familiar feeling – like a kind word and a kind touch at the same time – washes over me.  It’s warm and comfortable.

“Excellent!”  Gale nods in approval.  Now repeat after me: Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao.

“Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao,” I whisper.  The sudden scent of rosewater fills my nostrils as a general sense of well-being settles over me.

“Very good,” the wizard murmurs.  “Now I want you to picture in your mind the concept of harmony.  As true as you can.”

My body shudders traitorously at Gale’s praise, and I close my eyes in an effort to force myself to concentrate on his instructions.  I focus on one of my most treasured memories; the first time Khou’zal and I journeyed to Tu’narath, the feelings that coursed through me as, for the very first time, I beheld that great city built on the bones of a fallen god.  The Weave courses through the night in bright waves, and I feel Mystra’s unmistakable presence all around us. 

“You did it!”  Gale laughs in delight.  "You’re channeling the Weave.  How does it feel?”

I smile over at him.  “Incredible.  Though of course, I could have managed it all by myself…”

“You’re hard to please aren’t you?” he teases playfully.

The Weave connects us.  Joins us together in a way far different from the ghaik’s tadpole.  The moment feels intimate.  I grasp onto the feeling, knowing it will be my only chance to feel this kind of closeness with Gale.  Belatedly I realize the Weave has slipped between my mental defenses, that Gale is now witness to all my innermost desires.  Lost in the sensual haze of the Weave I picture kissing Gale, gently at first, then with increasing passion as my hands explore the soft skin beneath his wizard’s robes.  I imagine kissing the delicate skin behind his ear, burying my hands in his hair and tugging his head back, biting and licking the exposed column of his throat and then further down onto his chest, marking him, tasting him, possessing him…

“I… I didn’t think…”

Quick gusts of embarrassment and trepidation that are not my own pull me out of my fantasy and I open my eyes to see Gale staring down at me, red-faced and wide eyed.  I quickly sever our connection before anymore of Gale’s emotions break through, cursing myself for my stupidity.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, turning to dart away, already planning to throw myself off nearest cliff and put an end to this madness the wizard has cursed me with.

“X’aa’nath.”  Gale catches my hand, tugging me closer to him, still flushed but slightly more composed.  “I wasn’t expecting… but it is a pleasant image to be sure.  Most pleasant, in fact.  Most welcome.”

I freeze the moment his skin touches mine, the small motion of his thumb gently stroking over my knuckles causing my heart to thump unsteadily in my chest.  The Weave slowly evaporates around us, and as it does so, the night feels suddenly cold and lonesome. 

“There it goes,” Gale whispers, still holding onto my hand.  “How easily things slip away from us, no matter how hard they were in the obtaining.  Stay with me a moment.  Please.”

I nod wordlessly, my eyes fixed on our interlocked hands.

As long as you will have me by your side, I’ll be here.

[countrymusiclover]

1 - Never Get a Break

Part 2

Family is More than Blood

@secretdreamlandmentality

Mature don't read if you're not 18 +

When we're young, we're taught the distinction between a hero and a villain,good and evil,a savior and a lost cause.

But what if the only real difference is just who's telling the story?

I come from a long line of the villains in the tales you've heard about vampires,werewolves, witches, and everything in between.

The school behind these gates protects the secrets of people like me and my children.

My name is Raelyn Mikaelson, I was born a siphon witch of the Gemini coven. The wife to Klaus Mikaelson and the mother to his four beautiful children…the only vampire in existence to be able to have children once they turn.

I could go into the long and complicated story and how all this happened but you already know everything for the most part. So let’s jump into what has happened since two years ago we finally put the Hollow down and we rid the world of its magic forever.

Hope, Alina and Missy are eighteen now. Andrea is finally a teenager. I can hardly believe it. Little Henrik is seven now. And if I’m right Lizzie and Josie should be fifteen and will turn sixteen soon. I know if you were still here you would be over the moon about all of this.

Hope isn’t a full Tribrid yet she still needs to become a vampire. Missy has become a heretic like me and J. Oh Alina and Jackson are going to school together and she has now become what I call her a werewitch. Andrea should follow her path someday when she and Henrik trigger their wolf curse. Then my little boy will have to die and become a hybrid just like his father.

Caroline has run off again in search of a cure for the merge before her twins turn twenty-two. I try to remain hopeful she will find one since I can’t provide it for her anymore ... .oh Jacob and Hayley are living with us in Mystic Falls even though we aren’t actually there at the moment.

You know Klaus, he promised me the world and everything and he won’t go back on a promise. Regardless I love and miss you with all my heart, I’m not sure why I am writing these letters even though you can’t ever read them, but it has become a hobby. I’ll write more later.

Love you mom, Rae.

Closing the book on my lap I lifted my head upwards seeing my husband come in from the kitchen in our hotel room. He insisted we have the best sweat possible. He smiled, tossing me a blood bag that we had kept in the mini fridge. "With all the letters you wrote to her you could have a whole book written, love."

"Yeah a book that no one can know about. With it saying supernatural creatures are actually real. I'm not sure a publisher would believe anything I'm saying." I sent him a glare tearing open the blood bag drinking from it slowly.

He came and sat down beside me making the bed dip at his weight. His eyes softened when he focused on me. “I could just compel them to ignore that little detail.”

“Then it wouldn’t be real, Nikkaus. If I ever wanted to tell our story. I want everything to be real. Everything to be true and see people’s reactions. But that’s not what you want to talk about is it?” I sent him a smirk, being able to read him like the back of my hand after all these years.

Klaus flopped down beside me on the bed crossing his arms behind his head. “So where do you wish to go in this big wide world next?”

“Nik, we’ve literally almost been all over the planet. New Orleans, then Paris, then Italy. I mean honestly we can’t just snap our fingers and run all over the earth.” I shook my head at him rolling onto my side so we were facing each other.

He reached up playing with hair in between his fingers while he spoke. “We’re vampires, Raelyn. We can do whatever we want. Especially you and me. After all, we are two of the strongest creatures on the planet.”

“Ah I see. You’re still holding back what you want to talk about. Spit it out or I’ll find out through a tickle ear.” I threatened him with a playful smirk on my face scooting closer to him.

Klaus used his vampire speed vamping above me trapping me in between his body and the mattress of the bed. “You said that we would try again for another baby once the kids were older. The triplets are adults now so…can we?”

“Oh my god you’re ridiculous Niklaus. I have only been denying for two years and it’s already driving you crazy!” I smacked his chest with my hands feeling my face turn red at the thoughts running through my mind.

I wouldn’t lie to myself and say that I didn’t want to sleep with him again. I mean we would always be attracted to one another forever. But we had both agreed that until things had settled down that we would do it again. After Lucien/Marcel and the Hollow we had been separated every time we were so close to a stable relationship with our kids. I couldn’t live through anymore time apart from the man I loved. "You're ridiculous, Nik. Are you seriously that needy.” I couldn’t not tease him not believing that he would be so demanding of us sleeping together again. I mean of course I enjoy it who wouldn’t when you have someone like him.

I attempted to get up from the bed but he snagged my wrist holding me still in my place.

He spun me back down onto the bed holding my wrists above my head. “Raelyn, surely you’ve felt the desire too. I mean it can’t just be me now..”

He trailed his hand underneath my shirt feeling me jump at his fingertips. “Nik please , ah!”

Klaus leans down, capturing my lips with his in a deep hungry kiss. I kissed him back gently before he started moving kisses down my face. “Ah ah I see what I do to you, Mrs. Mikaelson. That you are so sensitive just as I am.” He kissed down, nuzzling his nose into my neck as he went.

“Ohh Klaus!” I moaned, throwing my head back against the pillows. One hand was bawling the fabric of his shirt in my fingers.

He moaned, crashing his lips onto mine again where I wrapped my arms around his neck. “See you don’t want to leave this bed just as much as I do. Hmm…you can’t….help…yourself either.”

“Klaus stop. I…if you’re going to tease me…get it over with please!” I scooted up onto the pillows feeling my chest heaving up and down with the veins going underneath my eyes.

Klaus sat up on his knees shrugging his gray Henley over his head tossing it somewhere across the room. He moved his hands down to my shirt, tearing it in half. “Gentle or dominant, love?” He questioned throwing my torn shirt off the edge of the bed.

“Either way I don’t care. I just want you right now.” I told him, taking his face in my hands, I drew him in for another kiss.

He smiled into the kiss moving one hand through my hair deepening the kiss. Our hands were moving everywhere across each other. We both began to moan when he fisted the other's hair. “If we have another baby….ah…what should we name it.” My husband breathed out holding himself up by his hands on either side.

“Niklaus shut up and make love to me!” I began to move against him and leaned up pressing my lips down upon his. He embraced me back instantly when my fingers dug into his back, drawing blood that would heal later. He ran his body over every inch of my body he could reach, both of us slick with sweat as he moved against one another, our pants and moans filling the room.

The bed was moving against our actions where he kept hitting the specific spot that we both moaned afterwards to. He broke the kiss where I held his face in my hands tracing his cheek with him thrusting into me slowly. “Rae, I love you!” He moaned when I pulled his head downward burying my face in his neck nuzzling my nose and kissing into his skin.

“I love you too, Nik.” Grabbing a hold of his shoulders I flipped him onto his back catching him off guard where he flashed his hybrid eyes up at me.

He put his hands behind his head looking longingly up at me like this with him. His eyes scanned my neck before he sat up with me sitting on his lap. “Do you want to give this another go?” He traced his thumb over the vein in my neck.

“Absolutely. We belong to each other.” I smiled, brushing my long hair out of his way. My eyes never left his while put his head in the crook of my neck breaking the skin and drinking my sweet blood.

Not wasting a second I buried my face into his neck drinking his blood with the same gentle yet needy feeling running through our veins at this moment. He kept his face in the crook of my neck while our bodies were just molding against each other. We shortly reached our heights in only a matter of minutes where he drew his head back when I harshly tugged on his hair until the phone was ringing like crazy . “Bloody hell…you’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Who is it?” I grabbed my phone from the nightstand with me still staying as close to Nik as I was.

Hope’s voice came through the phone shocking us both never thinking we would hear something like that. “Mom. Dad, we just had to face a dragon. Alairc wants you guys to come back to school now.”

“Uh okay. We’ll book the next flight home.” Hanging up the phone Klaus sent me the same confused look before we separated and got dressed, both annoyed that we apparently couldn’t have a rest from craziness. Especially when we live in Mystic Falls.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[gregorygerwitz]

The Platt Gerwitz Siblings

“You’d better behave while we have that girl in the house.” “Why do I have to live with some little sister I’ve never met, exactly?” “Because your father decided to screw around and make her.” “Then why am I the one being punished?” “Gregory, you are not being punished for your father’s behavior.” “Really? Because it feels like I am.” “It’s only for a few months until the media finds something else to focus on. I’m sure she’ll be out of our hair again by the start of the school year.”

When the whispers began around the city about Gregory Gerwitz III and his affairs, enough people dug a little deeper than the surface. Within days, the articles and blog posts were everywhere, sharing theories with plenty of evidence that there was more than one child in the Gerwitz bloodline. In a desperate attempt to save his reputation and his marriage, Gregory made the decision to bring one of those children into his home, offered a nice house, paid for an expensive education, and that was enough for his lawyers to negotiate for full custody of a daughter.

The girl, Kimberly, was the perfect addition to the household. She was a few months away from starting high school, one signed check away from being accepted into her first year at one of the best prep schools in the city, the perfect age to be taught everything she might need to know for her future, and now every family picture would have every key component - father, mother, son, daughter. She was the perfect solution to all of his problems, and he hardly had to do anything at all - just sign a couple checks, and the paperwork that would legally change her last name to Gerwitz, and one of the extra rooms could easily be converted into any teenage girl’s dream bedroom.

The thing was, Kim didn’t want to be a Gerwitz. She didn’t want to go to an expensive private school with a uniform. She didn’t want to move into the big house. All it held was a father she didn’t even know, a step mother who ignored her existence, and a half brother who would rather scowl at her than actually give her a ride school. It was miserable, and isolating, and she spent all of her free time hidden away in her bedroom with headphones and school books. If she could make it through the next four years until she was a legal adult, she could take the money in whatever bank account her father had set up for her and get out, as far away as she could.

At least, that was her attitude through the summer and the first months of the school year. Then, things started to change.

“Look, Kimberly, I-” “I know you don’t like me, Greg. You don’t have to explain it all to me.” “What? No, I wanted to say... I know my mother can be a lot. She has a lot of high expectations, and a plan for everything. And if anyone deviates from her plan...” “Like her husband moving his child into her home? That’s a pretty big deviation.” “Yeah. Like that. It’s nothing against you, personally, I’m sure.” “Right...” “Do you want to do something today? I have to stay late for practice, but after that?” “What, exactly, would we be doing?” “I don’t know. I didn’t think this far ahead.” “Fine. But your mother will kill us if we’re late for dinner.” “Oh, believe me, I know.”

By the time the first snow of the season started to fall, there was a new energy in the house. Instead of scowling, Greg smirked across the dinner table when certain comments were made. The morning drives to school weren’t spent in silence anymore. Once a week, after they were let out of school and he was done with his fencing coach, they took the long way back to the house and stopped for ice cream. It probably ruined their appetites for dinner, but they both preferred to spend an extra hour together than sit in a quiet house for all that time.

They were pretending less, when it came to family photos, and Greg knew the best hiding spots at the winter charity gala so they didn’t have to mingle and make small talk. He even wove through the crowd so smoothly that he could swipe two glasses of champagne from a passing tray without anyone batting an eye. For the first time, in a dim back office with a little too much alcohol, they were free. There was no family pressure when no one could see them, and there was nothing to do but talk, especially when the champagne ran out and neither of them wanted to risk sneaking out to get more.

Tipsy discussions just happened to lead to secrets and confessions, and a stronger bond than any member of the family could have foreseen.

“Wanna know something else? I think you disrupt my mother’s plans less than I do.” “I doubt it. You’re perfect, and she hates me.” “She doesn’t hate you. She hates what you represent. And I only pretend to be perfect.” “You have a perfect GPA, you spend weekends with homeless animals, and you won all of your matches last year.” “Yeah, I’m perfect, for now. After I graduate next year...” “You’ll be perfect at college?” “She wants me to get a business degree here in Chicago and have an equally perfect girlfriend where all the cameras can see.” “So? You get to take over the family business and have a perfect wife and perfect kids.” “What if... what if I don’t want that? What if I want to go to MIT and have a boyfriend, instead?” “Oh...” “Yeah...” “...welcome to the disappointments, Greg.”

They probably should have known from the very beginning - those first four years weren’t an obstacle to everything she wanted. They were the easy part.

[catsandgoodbooks]

A Familiar Game

AO3

“You know what, Dream? I’m thinking about trying something different today. Things are a bit stale here, y’know? You’re bored, I’m bored, we’re all bored. So why not change some stuff up?”

Dream watched Quackity pace warily, eyes tracking the other man’s movement and trying to swallow his unease, waiting for the flash of a blade or the shimmer of lava light on silver shears. Something new probably wouldn’t be good, but how much worse could things get, really? On the other hand, it wasn’t that Quackity was ever feeling merciful; he wasn’t going to make things better, no matter what. Dream couldn’t get his hopes up (not that he was going to in the first place, but still. Something to keep in mind).

“So today we’re going to play a game!” Quackity exclaimed cheerfully. He clapped, the sound echoing throughout the obsidian box and making Dream flinch, though he quickly tried to hide it. He was already too vulnerable here, exposed, spread up for anyone who wanted to see. “It’s simple, really, so you should be able to play, and I think you’ll like it! You’ll finally be able to get out of here,” Quackity waved a hand dismissively at the bloodstained cell, “if only for a little bit.”

What? Dream’s confusion must of shown on his face because Quackity laughed, raising the hairs on Dream’s neck. That was never good.

“I know, I know. It’s crazy what I do for you, right?” Quackity asked with a smirk.

“Yes.” Dream’s voice was raspy, his throat sore from screaming, but he knew better than to not respond (he had been taught better).

“That’s what I thought. But are you going to give me the chance to explain what we’re going to be doing today instead of interrupting?” Quackity asked, an edge to his voice. Dream actually preferred that to the morbid humor. It was more straightforward. Easier to understand. Easier to work around.

Dream nodded stiffly. “I’ll be good,” he promised despite how bitter the words tasted on his tongue. Just do what you have; if you die here, everything’s been for nothing.

“Perfect! So what’s going to happen is that we, and Sam, can’t forget about him, are going to play a little game. You can hide anywhere in the prison, or at least try to, and, if we can’t find you for an hour, you get to go to the courtyard once a week! Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Dream nodded. It would be nice, loath as he was to admit it, but…Something was off, about this.

“Oh, and don’t even think about trying to escape. We’re not idiots, y’know?”

Dream begged to differ, but he knew voicing his opinion would only lead to more problems, so he didn’t say anything. He wanted to see how this would go, and he didn’t want to get hurt.

“But, as long as you just follow the rules, there shouldn’t be any problems! Isn’t that nice? Oh, and you also get a bit of a head start. Just to make things a bit more fair,” Quackity said with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“So! We’ll get started in a few minutes. Anything you want to say to me before that happens?” Quackity asked cheerfully.

“Not particularly.” Fuck, Dream knew he should keep his mouth shut but he hadn’t been thinking and it was too late to do anything now. Fuck.

“Is that the case?” Quackity stepped forward, face stormy. Fuck, Dream had messed up. “The least you could do is appreciate what I do for you. Aren’t you going to thank me?” “Thank you,” Dream conceded. That was it? It didn’t seem like it.

“ ‘Thank you’, what? Remember our rules.”

“Thank you, sir.” Of course. Couldn’t dare forget that part, could he? The thought was bitter on his tongue but he didn’t say it. He knew better.

“That’s better,” Quackity smiled. “Don’t think that our little rules are gone just because I’m giving you this much. They’re not, and you better not forget that.

“But, as long as you don’t try anything, I think this should be fun for both of us, and that’s always been the goal here. Because, well, if you didn’t have me, what would you have?” Quackity asked. “Sam? Ick, no. And, well, no one else ever cared about you, so I guess nothing.” Quackity leaned down until he and Dream were eye-to-eye. “So be fucking grateful, Dreamie.”

Quackity straightened. “But we should really get this show on the road. We’ve wasted enough time here anyways. Get yourself up and we can go.” He turned towards the lava, yelling something at Sam, but Dream couldn’t determine what the words were between the sharp sharp sharp stabbing pain coursing through his leg the second he tried to stand up. He gagged, sinking back down onto the floor for a moment (so, so grateful that Quackity wasn’t looking at him, making snide comments or just laughing, always laughing) before grabbing onto the wall and trying to pull himself up. The obsidian cut into his hand but he got to his feet, clinging to the wall, ignoring the pain drumming through his leg.

Okay. It was fine. As long as he kept his mouth closed and didn’t mess up, he wasn’t going to get hurt. Even better, if he played his cards right, he might even be able to get out.

(He wasn’t going to get a chance like this again)

He could work with this. It was just like Manhunt, right? Just Manhunt with higher stakes and a different, more contained environment and worse starting point. Dream knew how to play (and, more importantly, win) Manhunt. He could handle it. He had to be able to.

And if it was just like Manhunt, well, those had a bit of a trend of the hunted becoming the hunters. If Dream was smart and played his cards right, that might end up happening here as well. A smile slowly crept onto his face. Sam and Quackity had really fucked up this time.

[raisedbythetv89]

Do teen girls especially - but also just kids in general - steal because they lack empathy and it’s a way to rebel or are they never taught what a sense of ownership over something feels like because we’re conditioned at such a young age that our bodies aren’t ours to do what we want with and nothing we “own” is really ours?

Girls are conditioned from such a young age that our bodies only exist for the enjoyment of men and to have children and we have no autonomy over our own bodies (don’t cut your hair short, don’t get too bulky, cover up, don’t be a slut, don’t make other people feel bad even if they hurt you, no you can’t have a hysterectomy you’re too young and you’re not married, men don’t like a lot of tattoos or piercings, you have to be “healthy” aka fit the beauty standards to be valued and taken seriously, men don’t like smart women, men don’t like women who make more money than them, THE LIST GOES ON AND ON) and that we need to be mature and nurturing so we HAVE to share everything with everyone no matter what (toys, treats you bring with you to school, your clothes - dress code literally says you don’t get a say in what you wear and what’s comfortable for you, WE DO and it’s for the sake of boys) you didn’t buy that your parents did so it’s not yours they can take it away from you at any time. As a kid everything that is “ours” is treated as communal property including ourselves. I had a teacher take my cell phone AND READ MY TEXTS in 2009.

Don’t want to hug a relative? Go to that kids birthday party or really anywhere for that matter? Give your bully a valentine? Too bad you HAVE TO and you get no say. Children are treated by society at large as communal property of the patriarchy and everything you have in your possession is a gift and a privilege so why the fuck would kids see anything else as anything other than communal property? Like you want it? TAKE IT that is what everyone else does with you so why would you not model that example set for you? (Thinking of people who get angry with you if you don’t want to share your water, gum, or chapstick if you have it in a shared space it’s OURS.)

It does seem like some parents are thankfully breaking this pattern now and empowering their children’s sense of autonomy - this post is me painting with a large brush as to what it was like being raised in the 90’s and earlier and patterns I’m noticing as I reflect on my childhood and my difficulties with boundaries as an adult and how much work it’s taking to feel ownership over my own body.

I don’t understand how we expect kids to understand ANYTHING about ownership when adults basically ensure they never get to experience that until you get a job and start making your own money basically saying you’re not allowed to own anything in our society until you participate in exploitive capitalism which is basically what is behind colonization of land and resources away from indigenous people so ya know maybe not the best system to keep upholding and raising future generations in.

[barneyandthepoetrymuse]



Tape for Joanne…

A bed in a room isn’t just a place on a bus…

It’s everything about you when you’re growing up…

What’s up on the wall is what’s made the cut…

It’s not about what’s cool, it’s says a lot about us…

I wish it’d been perfect but nothing was…

You’re carful what you say if you don’t know who to trust…

You stay out of the way when you’re pushed and shoved…

Show me the alcohol, give me the drugs…

Nothing is certain, even what you think you might know..

The days stick around and the nights fly by and go…

What’s in the charts that I can record off the radio…?

No social media or internet to browse or to post…

Can’t talk to friends at a distance like this…

Can’t send emails or text messages…

Things like that just don’t exist…

Everyone’s out of reach but we’re all still just kids…

There’s no way back again from this reset…

Am I still a presence or did you start to forget…

I didn’t want to be this out of touch and out of step…

Flick down on the mic, press record on the cassette…

No magic tricks you get what you get…

I’m no jam master on the record decks…

A few cd’s and a bit of time to invest…

Let’s put this Phillips stacking hifi to the test…

Draw on any influence but what do I use…

We might still be contiguous but still in different rooms…

Remember my brother? well he’s here too…

We wanted to put something together for you…..

It’s more about him but he doesn’t realise it…

We grew up right next to each other but now I don’t exist…

There’s more to offer with us both in the mix…

I didn’t want to grow up and apart like this…

Beverly Hills 90210…….

I wanted Jason Priestly’s hair and clothes…

I found some of myself in those kind of tv shows…

When real life didn’t even come close…

No WhatsApp just what’s what the fuck is happening…

You talk in stereo and I’m still practicing

You always know what to say, I can’t say anything…

This is your show, take the batten and keep it running…..

You drop the vocals, I’ll fade in and fade out…

Graphically equalised but give me a shout..

How well do we know Jo? That’s not what it’s about…

Whatever I want to say is coming out of your mouth…

Before sixteen I don’t think I was filled with much hope…

Raymond Briggs, apocalypse, in the wind as it blows…

Send and receive anything as long as it’s in the post…

Teen magazines, tv and radio taught me the most…

Nothing in school for a twin with separation anxiety…

I kept my head down but they still kicked the shit out of me…

It was the only bit of continuity…

Even the fucking fashion police knew of me…

What’s the pathology for substance abuse…?

Tripping on your laces or jumping through hoops…

The training is basic, you pick and you chose…

Take what you can from it but nothing‘s of any use…

Hypocrites give out signals and virtues…

There’s no one to look for or up to…

Its a cage fight and I’m living in the venue…

My parents hated each other and we’re the living proof…

It’s just me and Neil Finn together alone…

He’s just about the only one I think understands…

I’m in trouble but not yet in the back of a van…

I’m a boy in training to become a madman…

When you say no, can I change your mind…?

Do you get me when you’re in the right frame of mind…?

How do I get ahead when I’ve fallen this far behind…

Asking for your help to have my own chance to shine…

Can you be part of this? I think you can…

Opportunities not to miss, let’s launch our brand…

Ready to go live and get with the programme…

Can you B on the A side…it’s a tape for Joanne………?

[beautiful-brii]

this is what makes us girls

Girlhood - the state or time being a girl. Growing up as a girl always seemed like a negative thing; I mean of course it would be, misogyny was the first thing any girl was ever taught. We’re taught how we are different from boys, everything derived from gender. Rather than being taught individuality we’re taught about the differences in each other's anatomy. Like that, time is wasted trying to pry away from what was said to be being a girl.

I remember being somewhere around the age of 6 or 7; the words ‘tomboy’ and ‘girlygirl’ circulating in my group of friends. Nobody wanted to be a ‘girlygirl’, nobody wanted to like pink or embrace what it meant to be a stereotypical girl. We wanted to be different, to be special. We wanted to be boys. Any form of escaping the stereotype was what was right. I clinged to this word; I wore my brother's clothes, hated dresses, played in dirt and never brushed my hair. I didn’t want to be seen as less, I didn’t want to be a ‘girlygirl’. 

Years of clinging to this idea passed, I’m 10 now. I cut all my hair off and my whole perspective of gender changes. Other girls in my class started cutting their hair like mine. I had broken the stereotype. I thought that it didn’t matter what I looked like; what mattered was who I was. I embraced my differences, embraced my individuality. The short hair was who I was. Until I was reminded over and over again I looked like a boy and boys don’t like girls who look like boys. They told me I looked like a boy, meanwhile they stared at my chest like they still saw me as a girl. Who am I?

I’m 13, I never grew my hair out. I’m searching male validation; that’s what all the girls craved. The boys didn’t look at my face, they looked at my body. I saw my body as a weapon, something I could use to get anything I wanted. I was only ever told I looked like a boy if I didn’t have my boobs out, so why not always have them out? I let them gawk over my body, ignoring my face, even less my intelligence and personality. It was all they wanted to do. Anything for what all the girls craved; anything to prove I was desirable. I still didn’t know who I was, did my personality even matter? I wasn’t picky with who liked me, who I’d waste my time talking to. I grew closer with the girls in my class, I listened to them gossip and I would help them write love notes to stick in boys lockers. We gushed about our crushes and would plan our outfits together. Was this what it was like to be a girl? 

I’m 14, my hair has grown out a little, but it doesn’t feel like me. I want to prove to the world that a girl can be anything she wants to be. I cut my hair again and I’m back to stage one. Boys continue to look at my body, disregarding my face. I try to get my accomplishments across but they’ll only ever amount to nothing. As a girl I will only ever amount to nothing. I listen to my friends mock and degrade the girl who gets the male attention, things aren’t any different. I listen to the internet putting girls in boxes, their beauty characterised and suddenly girls are being told they’re the same again. Why won’t anything change?

I’m 15. I don’t know what it means to be a girl. I keep my hair short, I’m picky with who I like and cling to the things that make me, me. My femininity is a part of me, it’s a part of my female friendships, my relationships intertwined with girls and my relationships intertwined with boys. Some days I’ll feel like a girl, some days I’ll feel like nothing at all; because it doesn’t matter about my anatomy, it matters who I am. I listen to people tell me I can’t dress that way, like that person, or act like that because I’m a girl. They’ll keep the world stuck in the 60’s, whereas I know I’m going to make a change.

So what is girlhood? It’s a feeling. It’s being so overwhelmed with emotion, undergoing the worst of the worst just because of your uterus, and growing up to become who you were intended to be. It’s breaking free of the stereotypes and learning to love girls and the idea of women. It’s about experiencing the world through the eyes of a girl. It is so much more than what is characterised.

[goldenmirroraffair]

Chapter 1: Introductions

Jesus Christ I’m nervous. My heart is pounding out of my chest. It feels like I’m about to get a heart attack.

‘Did you pack everything, Ryoma?’ My mother asks, sitting left of me in this Limousine she picked out because it’s “vintage” and “classy”. She personally makes sure it gets washed twice a week but honestly, I couldn’t care less about some luxary car right now.

‘Of course, mother’ I reply as if I haven’t checked a hundred times last night. Jurinji, my younger brother who is sitting to the right of me looks very cool and composed. He supports his head with his hand and seems to be more bored than anything. I, however, feel like I’ll shit myself out of fear.

‘Are you excited for your first day at a normal school?’ the woman to the left of me asks. Jurinji replies with a witty ‘I don’t really care. The main thing is completing my studies right now’.

‘Perfect. How about you, Ryoma?’

‘I can’t wait to impress my teachers, mother’.

‘Amazing. Looks like we’re here’.

My heart skips a beat after Charles, our driver helps me out of the car. A giant white building stands before me. Above the entrance are big golden letters that spell out “Hopes stars academy”. I tell myself that it’s only one year and I can do it as I say my goodbyes to mother. ‘Don’t disappoint me’ she reminds us as she usually does.

‘You’re shaking’ Jurinji points out.

‘I’m very sorry. This is a stressful situation’.

‘Pull yourself together’ he says with a sharp tongue as he enters the building.

Sometimes I question if I’m really the older sibling.

With a big gulp I open the door. There must be hundreds of people here. I already lost track of my brother as I stumble towards something that resembles a map. I pass black lockers with golden decoration. As to be expected from a private school like this.

‘Can I help you?’ some guy asks. His golden blonde hair on top doesn’t match the colour of his black undercut. He has a piercing on his lip. Even though I have pierced ears I don’t really get to see facial piercings that often. My father thought it’s “distasteful”.

‘Sure, I need to get to room 103. Do you know where I must go?’ I ask the punk.

‘Wait, are you taking Mr. Parkers class too?’

‘I’m not sure. I just received the room number’.

‘103 is where I’m going too. So, you can just follow me’ the helpful man explains. I hope I don’t have to sit next to him. Status is everything so maybe he’ll bring my reputation down.

As we’re walking, he makes an introduction. ‘By the way my name is Axel. Nice to meet ya!’ His thick German accent is almost too much for me to handle. There are probably loads of German students here since this school is located in Bavaria.

‘Greetings, Axel. My name is Ryoma Felch’.

‘So uhh do you always speak like a robot?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to come off as rude. I just wanna like make sure you’re comfortable.’

‘I’m comfortable thank you very much’. The rest of the walk was dead silent. He drops a quick ‘Gorgeous hair by the way. What products do you use?’ which I ignore. He could die of a heart attack right on the spot and I wouldn’t care. Some would say this is an extreme and cold reaction but mother taught me to talk to people with respect so that’s the least I can expect from others.

I enter the room first. There is a small group of girls sitting in a circle. You could smell their Ariana Grande perfume through the entire class.

‘Holy shit’ a girl with red eyeshadow says as she sees me. Oh no. ‘You’re the Felch boy, right?’

‘Yes. It is nice to make your acquaintance’, I respond.

‘The who boy?’ the pierced man behind me asks.

Another girl with green eyeshadow gives him a killer stare as she walks over to me.

‘Ryoma Felch! You know. The son of the owner of the Fashion brand FELCH?’

‘What like felching?’ He thinks for a second but then remembers. ‘Oh yeah but didn’t the owner die like half a year ago or something? And doesn’t that mean he’s also Swans brother?’

‘Jesus fucking Christ Axel you idiot’. The same girl responds. She noticed he didn’t only hit one sensitive nerve but two.

‘I apologize but I refuse to listen to you any longer’ I really want to leave right now.

This is way worse than I would have ever expected. I pass the young women and sit down on a chair with a red pillow. The girl with red eyeshadow is pulling Axel out of the door. I hope he gets suspended. Isn’t that what happens in schools like this? I remind myself that it’s just this year and then I’ll graduate.

After a few minutes more students enter the classroom. Since this school has two buildings, the main building is for people who are looking for a higher education (aka the school for all the wealthy kids) and a second building that resembles a public school. The second one is under renovations right now though, so the classes are a mix of both. Axel and the Ariana Grande perfume ladies, for example, are obviously not from the main building. They come back into the room and Axel sits down on the opposite side of the class without even daring to look at me. Finally, the teacher enters. He’s suspiciously young. If he didn’t sit down at the front, I would’ve thought he’s another student.

‘Umm hi class’ Oh no. I think the students that look wealthy are just as confused as me right now. ‘You can call me Mr. Parker. Even though I’m your teacher this year I want us to have a chill relationship’ He has a Bavarian accent similar to Axels.

‘Excuse me! I think I’m in the wrong classroom’ a girl shouts out as she starts packing up. I notice her Gucci glasses which look stupidly big on her.

‘Emma Singer, right? I’m sorry but no, you aren’t. I used to be a teacher at the second building but because of the renovations I teach this class now.’ She pulls her Notebook back out. ‘So first of all, I want to do introductions. If someone throws the ball at you – you have to say something about yourself. Let’s start with you, Emma’.

She catches the ball.

‘Well, I’m Emma Singer, I’m 18 years old and single.’ a few other students cringe at that statement. ‘I’m in the fashion design course at the main building and I plan to make my own label someday.’ The statement is kind of ironic because she didn’t seem to recognize me. I mean I’m ME.

The ball passes all over the classroom and even knocks down a water bottle. The teacher took some paper towels and cleaned it up though. Finally, someone throws the ball to the girl with red eyeshadow. ‘I’m Chayenne, 18 years old and not single.’

She received a few chuckles from that. ‘I chose to be in the makeup class because of my passion in makeup and the racism connected with shades. I often struggle finding a good foundation or concealer because the industry often forgets people of colour exist.’ She sounds very serious about this topic. I love passionate people a lot. She throws the ball to Axel, but he fails to catch it and it hits his face. That even gets a laugh out of me.

‘My name is Axel Mueller and I’m like 19’ Like 19? Doesn’t he even know how old he is? At this point I’m convinced he’s an alien imposter trying to figure out how humanity works. ‘I have a cat called Milk and my mom owns a club that I work at part time. So maybe you’ll see me at the Typhoon. Oh yeah and I’m from the theatre class.’

‘Gay!’ another student shouts out. The amount of rude people in this class is so annoying. I don’t have anything against queer people, but I would’ve been so mad at them for calling me that.

‘So?’ Axel responds. What? That’s a shocker. I didn’t expect him to… well it’s none of my concerns.

‘HEADS UP!’ he shouts as he throws the ball in my direction.

‘Huh?’ I notice it too late and just like 20 seconds ago with the punk himself, the ball bounces off my face. This time, however, I fall backward and hit the back of my head against the window silt behind me. A small ‘fuck’ escapes my lips. Hopefully nobody heard that.

‘Oh, shit Ryoma do you want an ice pack?’, the teacher asks.

‘Yes, that would be great.’

‘The nurses office has some.’ There’s a small pause that feels like an eternity. Does he expect me to get it? Is he being serious right now?

‘Oh shit my bad. I’ll go get it’ the guy who assaulted me says.

‘No need’ I say as I stand up and start to walk to the door.

‘But you don’t know where it is’ Axel exclaims.

‘And you do? Aren’t you from the second building?’ a few students are making shocked noises.

‘See this as Axels punishment’, Mr. Parker says to deescalate the situation.

‘Not suspension or something like that?’ A lot of students are chuckling. Chayenne is having the time of her life. ‘Whatever.’ I open the door with Axel following me.

[christmic]

I love to color in the lines. I color in the lines I drew. I traced them from the bodies of the many nameless lost souls of the world. African women topless with a hut and a little silver cross inbetween their breasts, and eyes that know more paranormal in their hearts than any overweight psychic back in the states. Who bears the weight of the world on their shoulders and lifts them up mount madonna? Who writes poetry with their wife? Verse in sync. Yeah we need a new girl but Jick is too much of a simp to get his new one in on - gotta get some abstracted away CMON MAN to quote bidenism’s you got hairy legs in the pool and they stand up on end if you let her in on the poliverse too! Also R I P to the shifty clittys and lets face it brother we’re getting old and the natural state of men in our position when it comes to girls is out with the old, in with the new. Not that I’d ever do that to my WIFEI!

I agree to an extent - the second most important lesson is as you said to ‘You can whinge and whine all you want, but there are no shoulds, no should nots, and no nos. There are only the friends you come in with, and the friends you come back to.’ But the first most important is Christ is KANG! Always was and is. You can’t be an elitist and have an iPhone though, and also we have no flies they are lifelong brothers in arms - we’ve deduced it to the bay area kids are much more concerned about seeming smart they can’t do the basics later on in life like let a nice girl in on their inside world outside voice doodling club. KISS - Keep it Simple Stupid. CringeBat can’t write anything because God knows she is running and hiding and crying like season 2 of what she did to whats his name the sweet one omg I took his chick the least I can do is remember his name. Ben? No that’s her cousin right? GEORGE OF THE JUNGLE JUICE!!!!!!!

Wow so wow mom’s Bday was stelar wrapped nice nice nice nice nice nice gifts cute card we took her out stellar times, stellar times! Madonna Madonna- also I outsource wisdom when needed and Bonjo gives the hair advice(style I transcended her after living in the cities) but HAIR she taught me how to do a manbun and I need to move these large mirrors because it feels vain admiring myself so much. I’m glowing in great shape and am happy and blissed all the time. And Jick can be happy to one day! The day he chooses Love over fear, to accept everyone that didn’t grow up with a lawyer mom / engineer ‘dad’. And instead of looking down on their illiteracy he’ll learn to make real food dig real wholes and plant real plants instead of the sea of abstraction that makes up his fortune. Lauren would be so kind to give me her digits so we can mind control him away from simp life! Because the third most important lesson of the whole poliverse is a given - write everyday new new so help us God. That’s it. You can make excuses calling it toxic. You can feel the censors and the edits and the doubts and the noise of life to pull you away. But who hasn’t missed a day yet? Christmic. Who might’ve missed a day but that didn’t count? Christmic. The solution for your fears is to keep writing shadowClit. THe solution for your fears is to keep posting cringeBat. The solution for your fears is to let the girls in twoGimpHands. Then if you’re afraid they’ll read what you wrote just write a buttload more. I understand I had years of prac with poliw.at and it sometimes got me in a lot of trouble - but WORTH IT! We never have to go beyond codenames in verse.

And the other fourth most important lesson of all - stop all feeds. Feeds are for cattle. Leave zuckbook, leave plebbit, leave google, leave twatter, leave instahoe, leave toktick, leave it all. Stop all news. Stop everything. Stop looking at screens. If you’re on the screen, you’re creating at least. Stop all rectangle slave drivers. But me again my only rectangle is the bible atm. And the transition Saul to Paul experienced in his life was epic! He used to ruthlessly kill followers of Jesus until one day on the road on his horse he was blinded by a bright light and Jesus was there and asked him why he was an enemy of him. That’s maybe where the saying get off your high horse. And then Saul became Paul and went all around the empire preaching about Jesus. He was HIGH UP in the Jewish sect at the time and they hated that he started preaching about Jesus. Eventually they killed him for the same reason he used to kill people. Saul to Paul. Saul to Paul.

You can’t not be influenced, so it’s up to you. Do you want to make God smile in your thoughts in actions? Or do you want to feel naked? Schizo hobos will say how dangerous society became when the people stopped doing their holy homework. Bunch of headless chickens bouncing from distraction to distraciton pretending they aren’t one day going to die and meet their maker. It’s only in the brain! HA! I’ve experienced God in a loud direct sense and in many subtle senses to the point it’s not belief, it’s fact. You can escape God if you like, but it’s not as cool as you think. Separation from God is not something I’d wish on anyone. But hey the harder you push, the harder he’ll pull. I was influenced

Starts: I love to color in the lines

Ends: I was influenced

[j0hnj4ej3n]

𓆩♡𓆪 being in an arranged marriage with nct dream 𓆩♡𓆪

(pic credits to owners)

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: it’s about arranged marriages, i personally think that can be triggering on its own so don’t read if you’re uncomfortable! personally, i am not for the idea of arranged marriages because there’s so many layers to it that i don’t agree with. BUT this is a work of fiction, the dreamies and y/n are all royals in this and nothing bad happens to anyone, except under jisung’s where y/n is slightly disrespected 

Notes: this was requested by an anon! “I’d like to make an NCT Dream reactions request to being in an arranged marriage, and slowly warming up to their partner” if you like my writing, you can buy me a cup of coffee here and feel free to send more requests in too. stay tuned for more~

𔘓 Mark 

Mark always knew that this would be his fate, so he has long accepted it. The first time you two met each other was on your wedding day and he looked like such a kind and harmless guy it helped you calm down a bit. He would try to be your friend first, just getting to know you bit by bit during mealtimes and before bedtime. For the first week, he didn’t even sleep on the same bed as you because he could sense that you were uncomfortable but overtime, you assured him that it was okay. You slowly found yourself enjoying Mark’s presence as he did with yours. Sometimes you would sit with him in his office as he worked on the merger of your kingdoms. It was clear to everyone in the castle that the two of you were slowly falling for each other. Mark always wanted to be around you as much as he could and would even send flowers or gifts if he ever had to be away, even if it was only for a few days. He would take your advice into consideration when making decisions for the people and in regards to the merger, which made you feel heard and more than just an exchange for peace between the kingdoms. Both you and Mark could play the piano and spent many hours sitting in front of the piano together, playing random tunes. Sometimes, Mark would even turn them into songs and you would get to decide on the titles. One night, when it was just you and him in your shared bedroom, Mark presented you with a ring. “The ring we exchanged during the wedding was merely the unification of our kingdoms. This one, I made specially for you. And I know that, *chuckles*, we’re already married but… y/n, will you marry me? On your own accord this time?” 

𔘓 Renjun

Renjun first saw you at an evening ball several years ago and even back then, his heart fluttered at the sight of you. He thinks you’re simply beautiful but he’s too shy to ever tell you. The both of you met once or twice before your wedding day to just get to know each other a little better and to in a lack of better phrasing, ‘accept your fates’ together. Renjun has always been nice to you and was always extremely respectful. Anyone would be damned if they even try to be rude to you. The two of you warmed up to each other rather quickly, especially after Renjun came back from a meeting and found you painting. “You paint too?” Now, evenings before dinner are reserved for the two of you to paint together in the palace garden. On rainy days, the two of you would paint in your room, trying to paint portraits of each other. You don’t know when it happened, but you could feel yourself slowly seeing Renjun in a romantic light. Maybe it’s the way he greets you good morning, with that sweet smile of his when you arrive for breakfast. Or maybe it’s the way the two of you could paint in silence together and not feel awkward. Perhaps, it’s the few nights when you can’t sleep and Renjun tries his best to make you comfortable, soothing you to sleep by singing softly and lightly running his fingers through your hair. If anything, you’re so grateful to have been paired with Renjun. Who is not just a wonderful prince but also a loving husband.

𔘓 Jeno

You were always an independent girl. You learned everything your father taught about how to rule a kingdom and you trained with your mother in sword fighting ever since you were old enough to hold the weapon. You never saw a need for you to marry into another kingdom, but maybe this is the fate of many princesses who were not next in line to the throne. On the second night of your marriage  with Jeno, you learned that he was the best swordsman in his kingdom and only two weeks after your unification, he would be going away to war with the help of your kingdom’s best knights. On the third morning of your marriage, Jeno got up early for training and after begging him repeatedly to let you join him during training, he said yes. None of the knights dared spar with you so Jeno would and you liked how he was never easy on you. You found a new sense of excitement when training with Jeno, he did too. Jeno never thought the princess he would marry would share his love for swordfighting. But the more time the two of you spent training together with the other knights, the more overwhelming your worries became. It felt like the two weeks went by too fast and Jeno and the best knights from both kingdoms were set to leave for war tomorrow. “Let me go with you, I want to help.” you tell him the morning before his departure. “There’s no way.” “Why not? You know I can fight.” “You have to stay here and protect our people while I’m gone… and if I happen to never come back, at least they still have a future queen.” You couldn’t help but hold the young man you now call your husband in your arms, “You’re going to fight and then you’re going to come home to me. You understand?” Jeno offers you a sweet smile and nods, relishing in your embrace before he sets out for war. The war was a short but important one, at least that was the plan. They were supposed to be back in a month, but it’s been more than two weeks since a month passed and there was no news from the army. Your bed never felt more empty and every night, you lose sleep just praying to any god who would bring your Jeno home to you.  (should i make an au out of this? It’s getting too long) 

𔘓 Haechan

Haechan really didn’t like the idea of being in an arranged marriage. What’s a marriage if there’s no love in it? He still promised himself he would do his best with you – he would treat you like the princess that you are. He was the one to strike up conversations first and initiate activities to do together since it was still years before the two of you would be crowned king and queen. Now’s the perfect time to get to know each other. “Is there anything you like to do?” Haechan asked you meekly, since he could tell you were still rather reserved around him. “I was learning ballroom dancing before the wedding, I’m still not very good though.” Haechan’s eyes lit up at that and the next day, he requested for arrangements to be made so the two of you could start classes together. He might have walked into this marriage doubtful of how it will all turn out but he slowly realised that he would never trade you for any riches in the world. You slowly opened up to him and the two of you loved dancing together. To hold each other close and sway along to the soft, slow melodies. Haechan loves your ballroom dancing lessons, but he loves it more when the two of you would sneak into the ballroom in the middle of the night. Both in your comfortable pyjamas, running on tiptoes and hand-in-hand towards the dimly lit ballroom. The two of you would dance to the quiet humming from Haechan since it was already so late at night. The ballroom would be filled with the soft padding of both your featherlight steps and the hushed giggles. The two of you would dance till your hearts’ content before retiring to your shared bedroom and fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

𔘓 Jaemin

Jaemin was lucky enough that his parents allowed him to choose who he would be married to. Sure, it was still an arranged marriage but he got to select someone who he thought he could grow to love. During the wedding, Jaemin was so excited to just get to know you and live his life with you. You, on the other hand, were nervous but you always knew Jaemin as a gentle and righteous prince from a neighbouring kingdom so you tried to be optimistic about your future. From the moment the wedding ended, Jaemin treated you like the most important person in his life because now you truly were. He would make sure that you had everything you needed and wanted. He would make sure you were taken care of and that it wouldn’t be too hard of an adjustment from your lifestyle back at your kingdom. He made it so easy for you to fall for him, for his kind and loving nature. Jaemin had to travel a lot with the king (his father) to build alliances and such and whenever he did, he would bring home a gift especially for you. “Do you like it? I was walking around and when I saw it, I thought of you.” Sometimes it’s something small and meaningful, other times, it’s grand and extravagant. No matter the gift, you were just grateful for the fact that Jaemin was always thinking about you. You tell him he doesn’t need to get you gifts so often but he never listens. Jaemin just always wanted to shower you with love and everything that he has. 

𔘓 Chenle

He doesn’t understand why he had to marry someone. He was the only son, the next heir to the throne. And he knew he could definitely rule on his own, why was there a need for a queen? So after the wedding, Chenle doesn’t really treat you like you were his wife. He treated you more like you were just the person he was sharing a room with – a roommate, but for life. You started feeling really lonely, you didn’t expect Chenle to treat you like a wife immediately. But at least as a friend? It wasn’t like you wanted this too but you at least walked in deciding to give it a shot. Chenle left for sword fighting practice and you were left alone again in your big bedroom after breakfast. It’s been two weeks and you miss your family, your old life. Every time you try to strike a conversation with Chenle it fails and he never goes deeper than a few words. You couldn’t help but cry silently every time you were alone. One day Chenle came back from practice and found you crying, your back turned from the door of your shared bedroom. “Are you okay?” He asked timidly, wondering what had gotten you so upset. And you were too overwhelmed to even speak so you just continued crying. Chenle was baffled but he sat silently next to you and waited until you were ready to talk to him. Once you calmed down, you mustered up all the courage you had to tell him how you felt. Chenle felt really bad and he never realised how badly it affected you. He explains that he had no idea what he was supposed to do, like what does it even take to be a husband? But he did apologise and he forgoed sword fighting the next day to just spend some time with you. The two of you had no idea what marriage entails but from then on, the two of you promised to figure this all out together. And it is safe to say that months later, the two of you grew inseparable. Everywhere Chenle was, you were right there with him. 

𔘓 Jisung 

Jisung is so clueless and the first night is really awkward. The two of you were like “which side do you want to sleep on?” and literally spent five minutes in heavy silence, until Jisung mumbles out a quick ‘goodnight’ and turns the nightlight off. Things get better over the weeks and the two of you would consider yourselves friends. Jisung would spend time with you everyday, before and after going into meetings about alliances or mere kingdom matters. You would read to him as he laid his head on your lap in the corner of the library in the day or when right before going to bed at night. He would always start discussions about fantastical creatures like fairies, trolls, vampires. He would ask questions like “Do you believe in aliens?” or “What do you think would actually happen if a vampire bites you?” and the two of you could end up talking all night. It was clear that the two of you grew to like each other more and more, but was it just as close friends or something more? When he caught a guard being disrespectful to you when you asked about Jisung’s whereabouts (since he never usually got back from a meeting this late), Jisung only saw red. You looked so taken aback when the guard raised his voice at you, your eyes were wide in wary and your hands instinctively curled into tiny fists against your chest. He never felt anger like that, how dare he? The audacity to talk to a princess, like this? He was able to maintain his cool however, when he went up to the two of you and demanded the guard to apologise for being disrespectful. It was then that Jisung realised two things: one, he would protect you with his life and two, maybe he does see you as someone a lot more than just a close friend.

[doveypink]

bound together [choso kamo]

summary: he thinks he could never love anyone more than you. word count: 0.5k warnings: gn!reader, fluff, just choso loving his s/o. a/n: in a big choso mood lately!! i miss him :(

Choso doesn’t think he could ever love a person more than he loves you. And that’s saying a lot, given that he is incredibly selective in who he chooses to care for. His brothers, of course, came first; and then you slipped your way into his heart, and he had no choice but to revere you in such a way, too. The difference, of course, is that you taught Choso to love in a whole new way. 

With his family, Choso feels close enough to tell them just about everything. His brothers are his best friends, open and honest and willing to give their candid opinions whenever he needs their advice. But what Choso lacks with his brothers is the connection you bring, something that exists outside of blood bonds.

With you, Choso finds a home. You’re gentle with him in a way no one has ever been; you touch him and his cheeks bloom red; you speak to him in songs only he knows the tune to. With you, Choso constantly feels like he’s discovering something new. He wonders if all lovers feel this way, as though they’ve created an entire world through shared breath and stares across the room and smiles with hidden meanings. He wonders how many people have ever had the pleasure of knowing someone like you, someone who isn’t afraid to see the ugly parts of him. Because with you, Choso sees every side of you and takes comfort knowing that you see him in the same light: perfect, even if you don’t believe it yourself. You’re magical and radiant and beautiful and he loves you so hard that his heart swells in his chest at just the thought of you. When he daydreams, he sees only you, and he wonders about what you must be up to. He imagines all the mundane little things you could be doing together; all the dull parts of life that normally would not be anything special are made colorful with your presence. The century he spent sealed away with his brothers was worth it to have been born in a world with you in it. 

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, having noticed your lover quietly staring up at you while he lays in your lap. 

Choso thinks for a moment of how to respond. Eventually, he settles on a question: “Do you think we will always feel this way? Even after we are gone?”

You don’t have to ask for clarification; you know by the softened look in his eyes exactly what feeling he’s talking about. “I don’t know for sure,” you say. “But I’d like to think we will. I think everything we’ve felt together will last far beyond our time.”

This answer seems to satisfy him, and Choso reaches for your hand, which has begun brushing back the hair from his face. “I hope so. I want to stay with you somehow.”

You cup his cheek and smile, tracing circles against his soft skin with the pad of your thumb. “We’re bound together. I’ll always take care of you, even if the world is ending.” 

Choso leans further into your touch and he thinks, as selfish as it may be, that he truly could not ask for anything more of you.

[little-fics]

Curiosity Killed the Cat

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Request summary: you are not happy about your daddies new way of keeping track of you, but maybe you could warm up to the idea of it

Warnings: Age regression; pacifier mention; sort of leashes but its like a baby leash connected to a backpack; baby has hurt feelings; I could have missed something so please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 2.6K

A/N: I really hope you like it nonnie, I really enjoyed writing it. love you buggy boos <3

You wanted to look at everything not matter where you went with your daddies. At the park it was every dog, every leaf. At the store it was every fluffy thing you could find, every piece of candy or toy. If you saw something you wanted to look at, you were gone. Steve and Bucky had discussed their options after the fifth time you'd run off from them. It wasn't that they didn't want you to look, but you're their baby and you needed one of your daddies to go with you. The problem with that? You forgot in your excitement; a lot.

That's how you've found yourself in this predicament.

You were ready to go to the zoo, tattered thigh jean shorts and a pretty tie-dye shirt with SpongeBob's crew with cute purple shoes. You were bouncing on your heels at the door, waiting impatiently on your daddies. You know better than to go out the door and wait for them by the car, so you're whining, rushing your daddies.

"Papaaaa, it's time to go! We not gonna get to see eb'ryfin'!" Steve came rounding the corner, Bucky trailing right behind him with a lavender backpack in his hand that seemed a little full. Steve picked you up, balancing you on his hip, "We're almost ready little one," he wiggled his finger on your tummy, "we just want to show you something before we go." Bucky held the backpack up, smiling innocently.

It was so cute, it was a shade lighter than your shoes to match perfectly. It was plain, other than the pins and small keychain fidget toys your daddies had surely put on. He opened it up and it had a coloring book, a pack of colored pencils, your favorite pacifier and Lincoln the Ram, the oldest stuffie you had. You reached for the ram, and when you'd pulled him out you saw a bag of candy. Bucky laughed when your eyes lit up, "No baby, that's for today, you can have some later." You jutted your lip out and he shook his head, "Nice try, but puppy dog eyes only work on papa."

When you accepted that, Steve spoke up, "This is a special backpack sweetness." Your brows furrowed as you looked at it, not seeing anything about it. Bucky pulled out a stretchy cord that ended in a scrunchy like bracelet. "When you put this backpack on, daddy or papa will put this on." He slid it on his wrist and tugged at the cord close to his wrist, "So you can't go wondering off like you always do." You whined loudly, "Won' run off!" Your face in Steve's neck, letting out another loud whine.

“Oh silly baby,” Steve kissed your hair, “it’s okay, you’re not in trouble for being curious, we’re just trying to protect our kitty.” You let out a heavy groan, “No, don’ wanna wear it.” You clutched to Lincoln, your chin wobbling on edge of tears. “Dollie,” Bucky said softly, stepping forwards to rub your back, “it’s dangerous when you run away from us, you forget in the pretty head to tell your daddies where you’re going and we can’t find you.” You let out a long groan in protest and stayed in the crook of Steve’s neck, Bucky’s hand still on your back, “We can stay home instead of going and seeing all the animals, would you like that better?” Your head rose and you shook your head at him, “No daddy, I’ll wear it.” Bucky felt a strain on his heart when he saw the way your pout still rested on your face. “You won’t hardly notice it baby,” he kissed your nose, “not with all the pretty animals we’re gonna see.”

When you got to the zoo, Bucky unbuckled you in the back. You always sat in the middle because that’s where you were most protected, so he had to drag you out of the car a bit. “Okay baby,” he held the backpack up, “put ‘em in there.” You just stared at him a minute, “What if I pinky p’omise to be good?” He shakes his head, “Baby, you already are good. You agreed to wear it to be safe, we can’t go in if you’re not going to be safe.”

You huffed and put your arms in it, the band already around Bucky’s wrist. “Good girl, now listen to me baby, you gotta keep your backpack on, it can’t come off or it defeats the whole purpose.” You nodded deftly, body now trained on bouncing towards the gate. As you got around more people, Steve grabbed your shoulder and bent down to your face. “Did you hear daddy baby? That backpack doesn’t come off until we are back in this parking lot or you're in one of our arms, understood?” You nodded and Steve raises his eyebrows, “Yes papa, I understand.” He rubs your cheek with his thumb before giving you a quick kiss, standing back up.

It had worked remarkably well, you’d gotten distracted by all the animals as suspected. You were pulling Bucky around everywhere, and of course with Bucky came Steve. You pulled them to the lions rather quickly, jumping up and down, changing positions all over the outside of the enclosure to see them. “Daddy!” You ran to near the end of the enclosure, stopped dead in your tracks by the leash.

Bucky chuckled, but to you it was no laughing matter. “Wha’ you doin?” You pulled on him, shaking your bag roughly, “Baby, slow down okay, we’ve got plenty of time to look at the lions.” You made an angry face at him and continued to pull at the leash, “Come on! Wanna walk wif it!” You stomped your feet until he finally caught up with you. “Dis’ is why I always look wifout you, you too slow.” Bucky ignores your comment, mainly because you grab his hand and intertwined your fingers with his, shaking his arm and pointing at the big cat, “Take it home wif us?” Steve, who stood behind you, laughed in shock, “That’s a no from me bug, come on, let’s go see what’s next.”

With his recommendation you remember that there are so many more animals at the zoo. You squeak out a high pitched okay and take off skipping. Your long legged daddies had no problem keeping up throughout the next few hours, but then you had to potty. Truth be told, you were tired of looking at the giraffes anyway.

You glanced up to your daddy, who's whispering something in Steve's ear and laughing. You tug on him, and he turns toward you, "Gotta go potty." He smiled, nodding his head, "Of course bug, thank you for telling us without trying to run off." You grumbled and started walking to the bathroom, keeping the leash taught the entire time. You started to shrug off your backpack, irritation creeping up your spine before stopping.

You turned around to Steve and Bucky, a frown plastered on your face. You waited until they were dead in front of you, you slid off the backpack and pushed it roughly into their chest, stomping away to the bathroom. Both of them stared at each other for a moment, Steve commenting lowly, "Awfully grumpy." Bucky's mind swirled, you're not one to be outrageously bratty, so when you came back out, he knelt down and grabbed your hand.

"What's going on my buggy boo? Is something bothering you? You not feeling good?" You shrugged, pulling your hand back and taking the backpack with a wobbling lip. He made a clicking noise, smiling and took the backpack from you. "How about papa wears the backpack and I'll carry you, it's about time for lunch anyway, right?" You seem to instantly relax and let Bucky balance you on his hip, kissing your cheeks.

Steve slipped on the backpack, an odd and tight fit on his body but with the straps completely loosened, it had a millimeter of wiggle room. He starts to lead the way and Bucky whistles sharply at him. Steve turns around with raised eyebrows, but Bucky is looking at you with a 'can-you-believe-him' look.

Bucky turns to Steve, grabbing the bracelet part of the backpack and sliding it on your wrist, "You can't go running off either," Bucky looks down to you, giggling into his shoulder, "isn't that right sweetness?" You nod, looking up to Steve, shaking your wrist, "Papa we gots tuh know you safe!" Steve immediately catches on to what Bucky's doing, and smacks his forehead playfully, "How silly of me, huh dovey?" You pointedly nod, a smug look on your face, "Uh-huh, now nommies please!"

You're in a much better mood being carried by your daddy, shaking the leash playfully at Steve when you sit down at the table. He slid the backpack off of his back, laying it down on the table. "I thought maybe you'd like a dum dum while we wait on Daddy to come back?" Steve was bouncing you on his knee, already popping the sucker into your mouth. You laid your head on his shoulder, your eyes fluttering closed while enjoying the sweet lemon in your mouth, too asleep to notice it disappearing from your mouth.

Bucky sits down with Steve, smiling at your tired form, "I told you she'd tucker herself out and we wouldn't be able to get through the whole zoo today." Steve scoffed, "You act as if she's going to be willing to leave." Bucky kissed Steve softly before planting kisses all over your face, rousing you from sleep.

As much as you don't want to be grumpy, you can't help but frowning at Bucky. He just kisses your nose and tilts his head towards the food at the table. Your eyes land on the chicken strips first and your whole body bounces at sight of the large slushy on the table. "I-Buh-'S mine?" Bucky laughs at your apprehension to breaking the rules, don't have too much sugar. "Of course baby, we thought you'd like something sweet, like yourself."

When you are done eating lunch, Bucky tries to help you put your backpack on, but you run away from him, around the table. "Nuh-uh," you cross your arms over your chest and look to Steve with puppy eyes. "Baby," he starts, coming over to you, sitting on the metal seat, "what's going on? Don't you like your new backpack?" Your bottom lip wiggles again, tears in your eyes, "'S ugly." Steve looks shocked, "Honey, you love purple, what's really going on?"

That's when the damn broke, tears falling from your face and broken sobs coming out. Steve's holding his arms around you, and Bucky's found his way to rub your back. "Shhh, dove, tell papa what's got your head going so fast." You're hiccuping, letting out broken coughs with small gags, unable to form coherent words. Bucky grabs your chin, holding your straw to your lips, "Here baby, take a drink of your slushy." Somehow you listen to him, sugar is always a good bribe for you.

"Dollie," Bucky pulls you onto his lap, "what's wrong?" His eyebrows are raised, forehead against yours, noses almost touching. He's waiting for you to regain a normal breath to press harder. He doesn't get the chance, because you start talking before he can ask again. "J-jus- 'nother reason tuh ignore me."

Bucky's heart breaks, Steve's expression matching the hurt Bucky feels deep inside him. "What on earth are you talking about honey?" Your eyes start to tear up again and Bucky scolds you gently, "No, no more of that you hear me?" You nod and let Bucky wipe away one of your stray tears. "Honey, we bought the backpack because we were so worried, not so we could ignore you. You run around and poke at everything, you forget to tell your daddies what you're doing and it scares us. You understand baby?" You shrugged and Bucky sighed, kissing your cheek. He's about to say something else when Steve picks you up from Bucky's lap.

"Bucky, put the backpack on, let's go," he's gentle about it, but you're still upset. "No! Wanna see more pets!" Steve tries to lightheartedly chuckle, but it comes out dry, "Oh dove, we're not leaving the zoo, we're just moving on." When Bucky has the backpack on he puts the leash on your wrist, just as it was when Steve wore it.

Steve catches you shaking the band around your arm, and a lightbulb goes off in his head. "You see baby?" Steve starts, and you're confused, so he continues, "You're constantly playing with it, that means your eyes are on daddy at all times." You furrow your brows, a pout still resting on your face. "Go on Bucky," Steve nods in an opposite direction, and Bucky starts walking. When the leash reaches the end of its rope, your arm is pulled until Bucky turns around to face you.

You're hesitant, eyes flickering between Steve and Bucky, "No forgettin' me?" You're looking up into Steve's eyes, swimming with love, "Dove, you're everything on our mind every second of every day. We got it so if anything happened, anyone tried talking to me or Bucky, or we argued over dark or milk chocolate, we'd never be too distracted for you." You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, cuddling closely to him.

You can feel the leash pulling on you, and it takes your attention away from Steve. Steve doesn't move his feet though, Bucky playfully moving side to side to pull at the cord around your wrist. "Papa, daddy's tryin' to run off!" You could hear Bucky laugh as Steve caught up to you. "Whatdya say we get some of that ice cream you love so much Dollie, before we go see the rest of the animals?"

You beam at Bucky, a genuine smile crossing your face that lights up your eyes. "Dippin' Dots!" You shake and dance in Steve's arms, "Lemmee down, lemme down! Dippin' Dots! Dippin' Dots! Dippin Dots!" Steve lets your feet hit the ground, and you pout a little, glancing to the backpack. Steve seems to pick up on your hesitation, "How about daddy wears the backpack, you wear the bracelet and hold my hand? That way everyone is kept together and safe?"

You happily take his hand, all wariness thrown to the wind when you started skipping. "Dollie," Bucky stops, making you and Steve stop in place. He looks stern for a minute, but then breaks into a laughing fit, pointing to the righthand turn at the intersection. "You were so excited," he kept laughing, moving you to see the stand with many balloons and a sign that says 'Dippin' Dots', "that you ran right by it!"

You take off running, Bucky and Steve quick to follow. They didn't bother trying to gently reprimand you, they didn't care if you were excited and couldn't contain yourself. In fact, they loved it, as much as they needed a way to keep track of you with the leash, they wanted a way to make sure they never miss your bubbling excitement.

When you've made it to the stand, you are tugging on Steve. He looks down to you, watching your eyes flicker to the balloons. He smiles at you, adding your favorite color balloon to the order. Once you'd all sat on a bench, he starts to tie the balloon around your free wrist but you jerk away. "Daddy," you turn to Bucky, "we switch." You starting pulling the backpack off Bucky without waiting for a response, causing him to struggle to shuffle around his dippin' dots while laughing at you.

You've safely switched who holds what, now chowing on your dippin' dots in your hand and a y/f/c balloon on your wrist. You're starting to think the backpack isn't so bad, maybe you can convince them to buy you more of the things you want if they see you so excited over them.

Or you could always pout about the backpack and get what you wanted any ways.

[tinyyoungblood]

hi!! adore your work love. could you maybe do smth where stark!reader has to get her wisdom teeth out but HATES the dentist so she brings her boyf peter and her dad w her?? and then when they get home the avengers are all waiting with like comical amounts of flowers and stuffed animals and then reader says some funny shiii and thor thinks she’s like dying lol. idk if that made sense but i’m getting my wisdom teeth out soon and i’m scared😭 thank u so so much love u babe

pairing: peter parker x stark!reader

a/n: tysm lovely :,) i rushed through this like my life depended on it, but i hope i’m not too late. either way, i hope you’re okay! it’s frightening but those bad boys gotta go because we don’t need that kind of energy in our lives. enjoy x

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

wisdom teeth? more like wisdoom

y/n has to get her wisdom teeth removed and it’s the singular most dreadful thing she’s ever had to do, which says a lot because her dad is tony richling stark

doing dreadful things she doesn’t want to do but still somehow end up doing just because she can is a personality trait at this point

no one really makes a big deal out of it since ~death~ is part of their job description, but y/n is terrified

and when a stark is terrified the only thing that will keep them one step from insanity is researching the hell out of it

that information will be info dumped into every conversation for the next few weeks leading up to the appointment

“y/n you need anything from the store?” "no thanks, did you know the side effects of getting your wisdom teeth out include ✨sudden death or blood clots✨ tho” “……..i have a coupon?”

the day of the appointment, peter comes along and literally doesn’t let go of y/n’s hand. he keeps touching her to let her know that he’s there and it’s so. adorable

he would rest his hand on her knee, gently stroke her back while holding her, or just play with her hair

happy drops them off and he’s too Cool™ for emotions but he knows y/n’s a wreck, so he just fist bumps her with a single nod and she almost breaks down bc it’s really affectionate

y/n is sitting in the dentist chair and genuinely nothing is happening yet, but she’s squeezing peter’s hand like it’s a sponge

peter might have a high pain tolerance but he’s in pain pain and he prays that his hand won’t just explode on him

the dentist notices how peter tries to keep it together and chuckles

“you okay there, son?” “yea it’s fine, had a better time when a building fell on me tho haha” “pardon?” “oh i mean i didn’t have a good time, i just had a better time”

because y/n is running Anxious Town™, the dentist gives her a sedative to help her relax 

plus, an injection of local anaesthetic to numb the tooth and surrounding area

she doesn’t feel anything and it’s GREAT

the procedure is quicker than expected and now the real fun begins

she tries to walk but she falls down so peter scoops her up bridal style and happy stays glued at her side

y/n doesn’t mind although she literally doesn’t recognise them and they’re practically strangers to her

but girly sees an opportunity and tries to flirt with peter bc why wouldn’t she

“you’re pretty” *blushes* “why thanks” “you should let your girlfriend know” “i should let her know i’m pretty?” “so you do have a gf? :(” “yea it’s you” “:)”

they stop for gas and peter goes in to get some water for y/n, and in her infinite wisdom, she decides it’s burger time

her mouth is completely numb and she’s practically leaving a trail of drool behind her, but she’d kill for a burger right now

so she wobbles around aimlessly for an hour on some random parking lot as if the ground might just magically open up like a rabbit hole and lead her to five guys

she’s going places. not back to the car. definitely not five guys. they’re closed. but places

peter finally finds her and he’s drenched from head to toe in sweat. he doEsn’T wAnt tO tALk abOut iT tho so she lets him take her to subway instead

normally, she would know that peter’s usual subway order is bread-lettuce-jalapeño

but in her drugged-up state, it had simply slipped her mind so now she’s staring at him like he’d just murdered someone right in front of her

“that- that’s your order?? no meat or anything just bread, lettuce, and a little spice?”

meanwhile at the compound, sam and steve are ordering everyone around bc they want to decorate this place before y/n gets home to surprise her

they take it very seriously too. they’ve watched like one HGTV show and said it’s our time

they finally get home and tony gives y/n a big hug, asking her what took so long

happy tells him that she was keen on getting burgers bc apparently someone has taught her that stressful times call for ~cheeseburgers~

he proceeds to look at tony with a pointed look

tony just shrugs and goes “she was a problem child. we don’t mention her dark past”

she’s swaying on the spot and keeps grinning like a fool and thor just stares at her weirdly before elbowing bruce and whispering loudly,

“what’s wrong with her? is she dying? should i start collecting leaves, i know this remedy—"

no one can tell if y/n is just happy to see the newly decorated home or if she’s just delighted to see everyone but then she goes around hugging the entire team

she doesn’t even acknowledge the sky-high pile of teddy bears and flowers everywhere bc she’s just squeezing everybody

y/n is so high, she just starts to spill all of her feelings about everyone and they’re already so overwhelmed by the hug chain they can’t take this too

“wanda i just want you to know that you’re like my big sister and you’re always taking care of me and i know you and vision are just going to make such good parents one day”

“bucky you absolute PRICK, you FIEND, you’re the best chess player ever and that’ll never change and i wouldn’t be good without you, i hate to say it but you deserve happiness even after you made me lose five times in a row yesterday”

“dad, you’re so strong and smart, even though we’re like never on the same page, you’re always along for the ride, i want to be like you when i grow up, i swear i’m gonna try to be as good to the avengers as you were to us” “aww- wait makes you think i'll be the first to die“

“nat you’re such a bitch about your protein shakes but you’re my best friend and i wouldn’t have it any other way, you can try out as many make up looks on me as you want”

“bruce, brucey, i would live with you in your lab for the rest of my days if i had to, whenever you ask me to hand you stuff i feel useful and important”

“laura’s way out of your league clint i have no idea how the fuck you got her but don’t lose her and i want to be your next child’s godmother”

“steve…we’re your family now. we’re always gonna be your family now. okay?”

“loki you’re not fooling anyone with your attitude, we all know you’re part of the family, you were just misunderstood and messed up bc of your dad–FUCK him by the way–but i realised everyone deserves as many chances as they need because of you”

“sam i would genuinely kill anyone who wronged you, even if they cut you in line at the grocery store, i would knife them no hesitation”

“thor, you poor golden retriever have been through so much, on my way here i made a wish on an eyelash for you bc you deserve better, your postcards always make my day, love you”

she mumbles something to peter that no one else can hear but he blushes and chokes back a sob

y/n orders hot soup and bucky brings it to her but before he even has time to react peter drops everything and ZOOMS across the room in .3 seconds

he barrels into bucky so hard they both go flying, but peter just smoothly rolls out of it and onto his feet like some kind of super ninja

“DUDE WHAT THE HELL” “😠 y/n is not supposed to drink hot liquids 😠”

all of this happens in mere seconds but sam has filmed it all and now slow mo clips go viral online of some mysterious kid knocking over the winter soldier

y/n’s a little in and out after that, but when she fully regains consciousness, she’s on a pile of blankets, surrounded by the team on the floor <3

* * *

let me know if this is actually comforting lmao stay hydrated pals

hc masterlist

[dhwty-writes]

The Terribly Sad and Tragic Affair that Is the Fake Funeral of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss

Apparently, I am not only drawing for the Critical Role fandom, but writing for it, too. After months of nearly no progress I just vomited out 3k words this Tuesday and it only went downhill from there.

This fic is based on this post by @anne-o-nyme, I really hope I managed to capture the energy of it.

Have fun!

Summary: There were eight strangers in the foyer of his dead brother's towers and Verin Thelyss was slowly losing his patience.

After the sudden "death" of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss, it is his brother Verin's job to empty out his towers. The Mighty Nein show up to help (and maybe steal a few things).

OR: Verin is grieving, Essek just wants his stuff back, and the Mighty Nein are the Mighty Nein.

Warnings: I didn't tag this with MCD, because Essek is technically alive and kicking. Since Verin doesn't know that though, and this fic is written from his POV, this is dealing with grief and includes depictions of depressive thoughts as well as anxiety attacks. For more explicit warnings, please mind the tags on AO3. Take care of yourselves, and let me know if I forgot anything.

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There were eight strangers in the foyer of his dead brother's towers and Verin Thelyss was slowly losing his patience. "Listen," he said with what little calm he had left, "I know that by returning one of our beacons you became heroes of the Dynasty and were placed under Es— My bro— his stewardship. But this here—" he gestured vaguely at the interior of Essek's towers that had always been too cold, too empty, but not like now, never like now— "This is a very difficult situation for me, so if you could please leave, that would be greatly appreciated."

"Yes, yes, it's very sad that Essek died," the blue tiefling said—Jester, her name was Jester; she had given him that already as she had offered him her condolences with a hug—and Verin could barely contain his anger. After the funeral he had quite enough of lying dignitaries, nobles, and heroes currying favours with him. That had always been Essek's thing, he would know what to do, how to make them regret even daring to speak up; Verin had never been any good at it.

"But we're his friends!" He grit his teeth at Jester's blatant falsehood. Perhaps his anger showed on his face, since the tiefling faltered. "And, uh— Fjord?"

"It's true," the half-orc with too-smooth words and too-smooth voice lied, too. "We spent quite some time with your, er— your brother here. Made some good memories. We thought we might take this as our chance to say goodbye, too."

"We are here to help as well. We wouldn't want to infringe upon your grief, though," the tall firbolg added. "So, if you'd prefer us to return at a later point, we'd be happy to."

Verin was still trying to process everything—from these strangers showing up unannounced to their overwhelming presence to the fact that his brother was dead—while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the halfling who looked like she might have sticky fingers. So, he latched onto the word that stood out the most to him: "Help?"

"Right," Fjord said, looking slightly embarrassed, "we probably should have led with that..."

"We should have called ahead, too," the scary-looking human in blue—they didn't even wear white for the funeral—added. "We always forget to call ahead."

"But Beau, how should we have called ahead?" Jester complained. "We didn't know Verin yet."

"Well, Essek—" the human was interrupted by the even scarier-looking woman next to her stepping on her foot unsubtly. She at least had the decency to act embarrassed. "Right. Sorry 'bout that."

Awkward silence fell across the room, the Mighty Nein looking anywhere but him. It took him a few moments to realise they were waiting for him to speak up. "Help how?" Verin could have kicked himself. By the Light, he could do better than that. He had to do better than that.

A beat of silence followed, then everyone seemed to talk at once. Verin wanted to weep. How was he supposed to deal with this? How had his brother dealt with this? 'He probably hasn't,' he thought. 'They're probably all liars, probably—'

Someone cleared their throat and all eyes turned to the other human who hadn't said anything so far and who looked properly miserable. Immediately, the Mighty Nein fell silent. "Word has reached us that Den Thelyss ordered these premises to be vacated as early as possible," he said quietly with an accent Verin has been taught that belonged to the enemy. "And while some of us may not look like much, I can assure you, we are quite capable."

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "I supposed such menial tasks are beneath the heroes of the dynasty. There are servants—"

"Well, sure," the halfling with the probably sticky fingers interrupted, "but we know him. Knew him, I mean; sorry, force of habit."

"Besides, there's a lot of stuff," the lavender tiefling, who Verin was pretty sure was a known pirate, piped up. "Looks like you could use the help."

"If you want to, of course," the sad Empire human added.

Verin only wanted to scream, to give room to the torrent of thoughts raging in his head. 'My brother just died. My brother just died and he wasn't consecuted, so he's gone for good. He's gone for good and I didn't even know him; I didn't even know about these supposed friends he had because he didn't allow me near him in decades. I was a horrible brother and so was he, but I can't even be mad at him because he's dead.

'And now these liars show up and talk about friendship and knowing him, but those are all lies, horrible ones, because Essek had no friends. Essek was cold and cruel and lonely and do you even know how horrible that is? Dying alone with no-one who mourns you, just the favours you still owe them? Do you? I don't even know, and I'm his brother.'

Were he a weaker man, a less disciplined one, he might have said so. But he was Taskhand Verin of Den Thelyss and he had learned discipline before he had learned to talk. So, he said: "Your help would be greatly appreciated, thank you. I'll have the servants bring up some tea. There are, uh—" He straightened his back, summoning the composure that was befitting a Taskhand, even one with a dead brother. "There are boxes up there, they've been brought to the rooms already. Anything of value will be sold; the rest will be given to charity. The things— Well, if you find anything that might have sentimental value, something in his handwriting, perhaps, I think I should like to keep that, please."

The firbolg nodded sagely. "Of course. We will be careful with our selection."

With that, Verin turned around and— froze. Where was he even supposed to start? The towers had always seemed to huge for just Essek and he knew that there were very few personal belongings in them. Still, they would have to be scoured clean within the fortnight.

A large hand on his shoulder made him jump, although he'd never admit it. "Sometimes, when a task seems too large, you should start with the smallest part," the firbolg said. "If I were you, I'd start with the smallest room."

"Thank you, that, uh— that seems like good advice," Verin replied, still a bit startled and confused. "I, er— I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

"Caduceus Clay. I live in a graveyard, so I'm used to this," Clay said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Verin furrowed his brows slightly. A graveyard? It seemed highly unlikely to him that one of the heroes of the Dynasty would live in a graveyard of all places. Perhaps they were not only liars, but impostors too? But they had the symbols of the Bright Queen, so there wasn't much that he could say.

"Right," he mumbled. "I believe the smallest room would be the closet. Although it might be tied with the bathroom..." He trailed off again. He had never seen Essek's bedroom in his towers. Judging by how many times he had even seen the inside of the building; he could count himself lucky if he even found the way there.

"Why don't we split up?" Clay suggested. "One group takes the closet, one the bathroom and one the bedroom. We'd get done sooner that way."

"That is a great idea, Caduceus," Jester said excitedly. "I'll take the bathroom; I promised— er, I'm curious if I can find more of that hair oil, I got for Fjord that one time!"

"Ohhh, are you saying this is... an investigation?!" the halfling joined in.

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Veth!"

"Seems like a case for Wildemount's best detectives!"

"Bye, Verin!" Jester called and he blinked and they were gone. Fjord joined them as well, muttering something about having to supervise them.

The purple pirate-tiefling shrugged, heading off in the same direction. "Well, I wouldn't mind rifling through some drawers. I'll have a look at that bedroom."

"Yeah, I don't need to see Essek's underwear, so I'll pass on the closet," Beau added tactfully—Verin was getting the sneaking suspicion that manners were not really her strong suit. She linked hands with the large woman at her side, pulling her along. "Come on, Yash."

"I'll go handle the tea," Clay said. "Don't worry about it." He vanished in the direction of the kitchen, his steps accompanied by the constant tap tap tap of his staff.

When Verin looked around, he realised that only the sad Empire human was left with him in the hallway. "If you wouldn't mind," he said, pointedly avoiding eye-contact, "I would love to have a look at the closet. I always, ah— appreciated your brother's sense of fashion."

Verin blinked at him a few times, then shrugged. "Sure." He began heading up the stairs.

"My condolences," the human continued. "I realise I didn't speak up earlier, but— I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," he said, letting the same numb feeling wash over him again that he had embraced since the news of Essek's death had reached him.

"I know that we seem like a bunch of, ah— forgive my language, but assholes, but we're really here to help. I will tell the others to tone it down a bit."

"Thank you," he repeated.

"If you'd prefer that we start in, ah— less personal rooms, we can do that also."

"If I'm perfectly honest, I don't even know what I should be doing there."

"Neither am I." The human laughed nervously. "I have dealt with grief before, but I've never had the, ah— how do you call it? Hang on." He pulled out a copper wire and whispered: "Beau, how do you say zweifelhafte Ehre in Common? You can reply to this message." A moment later he straightened. "Right. I never had the dubious honour of emptying out a deceased person's house before."

"Neither did I," Verin admitted. 'Usually, the deceased person comes back,' he didn't say. Instead, he opted for: "You're, er— What's the word in Common? You're weird? I'm sorry if that's insulting, I just— waele xanalressen [stupid languages]."

"I don't understand your words, but I think I understand the sentiment." The man grimaced. "And I've heard that one before. I hope we're not too much of a... too much."

"It's alright," he lied and opened the door to Essek's bedroom. 

It wasn't alright; Verin wanted to weep again.

The door to the bathroom stood ajar, as did several drawers and cabinets, although he couldn't glance inside. Considering that he heard glass shatter and a quiet "oops" followed by a hushed "Jester!" he was rather glad about that. Besides, what he saw was already quite enough to handle. Beau was currently rifling through Essek's nightstand, the tall woman tossing unread books on the bed carelessly, while the lavender tiefling seemed to make his way through his brother's collections of make-up and jewellery alike.

They froze when they spotted him and the sad human in the door. "Heeey, Verin," Beau drawled.

"These were all still closed, I swear," the lavender tiefling said immediately, gesturing at the jars in front of them.

Verin just sighed in defeat. "I don't wear any make-up, I don't care; you can have it. Put the jewellery in the box to be sold; the books are for charity if he hasn't read them. Just leave the earrings in front of the mirror, please. Those were his favourites."

Without another glance at them, Verin headed straight to Essek's closet, desperate to get some quiet. He took a few moments to collect himself, before closing the door and leaning his head against it with a heavy thunk.

He stayed like that for a minute or maybe two until he heard someone clear their throat. "I have been debating for the past fifty-five seconds, if I should just Dimension Door out," the sad human said and Verin very nearly jumped out of his skin, "but that would be loud and I didn't want to startle you. Not that I didn't startle you like this but—"

"Vithin shu," Verin cursed.

"Vithin shu ke," the sad human agreed, his accent in Undercommon even heavier than normally.

For a moment, they both stared at each other, equally startled by the course of events. Then, the human looked away again. "I, ah— have started learning Undercommon before, um— well, before." Verin tried very hard to focus on the way the human was scratching at his forearms; that way he had something else to focus on besides his nearing breakdown.

"This is a bit embarrassing, but, ah— I believe I forgot to introduce myself," the human continued. "I'm Caleb Widogast. Essek and I were... friends, yes, and ah— colleagues, of some sort. It's... complicated."

He scratched at his arms again before turning towards the shelves and pulling out a stack of tunics. He unfolded one, looked at it, then carefully folded it again, cast a cantrip to smooth out the wrinkles, and put it in the charity box. Then he repeated the procedure with the next. And the next. And the next.

Verin frowned, thinking for a moment about his words. There was something about them that seemed painfully familiar, although he couldn't quite remember. Then: "The transmutation specialist."

Widogast looked up in surprise. "Yes."

"Essek told me of you," Verin admitted.

The last time they had seen each other had been here, in these towers, just a few months ago. He had found his brother in his office, pouring over notes for a new spell, alive and healthy as ever. As always, he had entered without knocking. As always, he had pretended to read the notes. Not as always, he had noticed something wrong. "Whose handwriting is that?" he had asked.

"What?" Essek had snapped, his head whipping up. Then, however, his expression had softened. "Oh. A friend's. A colleague, of sorts. He's helping me out, a bit."

"With the spell?" Verin had asked incredulously.

"Yes. He's a transmutation specialist; you know that's not my forte. Now give it back, will you?"

"A colleague, huh?" He had grinned and held the paper out of Essek's reach. "Are you sure that's all?"

Perhaps Essek had been sick after all, for the strangest thing had happened: instead of using his floating cantrip to snatch the notes back, he had gotten a dreamy, far-off look in his eyes. He had even smiled with an expression Verin might have called dopey, if it weren't his brother they were talking about. After a few moments, he had snapped out of it, sighed, and said: "It's complicated."

"Did he?" Widogast asked tentatively. "Did he, ah— did he say anything else about me?"

Verin pinned him down with a glare, sizing him up. In hindsight, he should have noticed the thick spellbook at his hip earlier; judging by his slim frame alone, he should have known the man was a wizard. He supposed Widogast was handsome enough, although his brother had never cared much for that, with his copper hair and his striking blue eyes. Blue eyes around which crows' feet were gathering, as he noticed to his dismay. 'He's human,' Verin reminded himself. He might have a few decades left, maybe, whereas Essek had centuries ahead of him. The thought why his brother might condemn himself to more loneliness crossed his mind, though it hardly mattered. His brother had been the first to die, after all.

"Verin?" Widogast inquired quietly.

"I'm sorry," he answered with a thick voice. "I got lost in my thoughts there. He, uhh— he said that he trusted you." That didn't even begin to cover it, but these Mighty Nein had been lying to him since the moment they got here, so what was a little lie by omission? Besides, there were some memories that he wanted to keep just to himself.

"Essek," he had teased, still waving the sheet of paper out his reach. "Come on! Aren't we brothers?"

Essek had crossed his arms and pouted. He hadn't done that since they were both little. "Unfortunately. You are a menace. And a child."

"If you tell me about him, I'll give it back. Is he handsome? Is he a drow? Where's he from? How did you meet? When will I meet him? Can I promise to kill him if he hurts you?"

"Verin!" Essek had groaned and hid his face in his hands.

"What do you do when you meet? I bet you stay up all night, talking about 'arcane research' or something."

"We do, in fact. Are you done now?"

"Oh, is that what young people call it these days?" He had cackled at his own joke.

"Evidently not," Essek had muttered. "Might I remind you that you're younger than me?"

"Might I remind you that you're a buzzkill?" Verin had shot back and placed the note down. He had gotten bored of his own game.

Essek had taken the sheet of paper almost reverently and thanked him. "I would have hated it to rewrite that page." He had smoothed it down, stored it safely away in a folder, silent for a long time. Then, he had said: "Caleb."

"Excuse me?"

"That's his name," Essek had said. "Caleb Widogast."

Verin had frowned. "Hey, Essek?"

"Hm?"

"You must trust him a lot, to share a spell with him."

His brother had taken a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. Verin hadn't expected him to answer, yet he'd said: "I do, actually. It's not the first spell we've created together and I would be honoured to create a thousand more with him. I'd trust him with my life, my death, and beyond. I think—" He'd huffed. "I think I trust him almost as much as I trust you."

Verin watched Widogast as he was looking through his brother's tunics, placing most of them in the charity box, and he wondered. Wondered if the trust Essek had obviously put in Widogast had been misplaced. Wondered if it had extended to his friends, as well. Wondered if ultimately trust had been his downfall, as he'd always feared.

Then again, if Essek had trusted him... perhaps that trust had been mutual. Perhaps they had been friends. Perhaps there was another person mourning his brother after all.

"Do I have something on my face?" Verin had given up on counting how many times Widogast had now startled him out of his thoughts.

"No, no I—," Verin stammered. "I'm sorry."

He tilted his head to the side. "For staring?"

"No, er— For your loss." Liar or no liar, it only seemed appropriate.

"Oh." Widogast turned back to the tunics. Verin probably should get started, too, shouldn't he? "Thank you. Though I'd wager your loss weighs heavier than mine."

"Probably," he agreed and turned to the task at hand. At this point, Widogast had moved on from the simple tunics to Essek's court regalia. After a short moment of consideration, Verin decided to look through the pants; he also had no interest in sorting through his dead brother's underwear.

Out of the corner of his eye he kept watching the wizard, pulling out one cloak after the other. At a few he wrinkled his nose, at others he just stared before putting them with the tunics. After a while one made him pause; an elaborate, beautiful robe in deep purple. "This is what he was wearing when we first met him," he said.

'He hated that one,' Verin thought. Not that he could say that out loud. Instead, he cocked his head and asked: "Are you sure? He has a lot of those. Had, I mean. Had a lot of those."

"Yeah, I'm sure." He tapped his temple with a faint smile. "I have a good memory."

"As does Essek," he snapped, suddenly feeling very defensive about his brother's capabilities. "I suppose most wizards do."

Infuriatingly, Widogast only nodded. "Indeed. Or they're not very good ones."

Silently, Verin turned back to the trousers. The sooner he got done, the sooner he got these people out of his brother's towers, the better. He didn't know for how long they worked in silence, Verin reminiscing about the times he had seen Essek wear the clothes and wondering about those he didn't know. Eventually, he folded the last of them and forced himself to return to the present. "I think we're done here," he announced. "Do you have a preference for a next room?"

"Perhaps the library?" Widogast offered a tentative smile. "I think I might be of more use there than folding clothes."

"More use than I will be, surely."

"I take it the wizardry doesn't run in the family, then?"

Verin only scoffed and opened the door to the bedroom again.

He immediately spotted Beau leafing through one of the books Essek had never read, while the tiefling was chatting amiably with the aasimar while braiding her hair. He also noted the boxes neatly stacked in the middle of the room. Besides that, he noticed with a heavy heart, the room looked much the same. If anything, it looked less orderly and empty than before. Except for—

"Where are Essek's earrings?" Verin demanded to know.

"What earrings?" the lavender tiefling replied with a too-wide grin the same moment Beau said: "Dude, there's tons of them, why don't—"

"No," he said decisively. "Essek's favourite earrings; they're always up here. I told you about them. Where are they?" His hands curled into fists, his neatly manicured fingernails pressing almost painfully into his skin.

"Perhaps you should look in one of the boxes," the aasimar woman suggested "I'm sure they're—"

"You're lying," Verin interrupted her, barely containing his anger. "Why are you lying? If they're in one of the boxes, then only because you put them there. So: where are they?"

Widogast only now stepped out of the closet, wearing an amber necklace he hadn't noticed before. "Verin—" he said tentatively, but he'd had enough.

"Shut up!" He startled himself with how loud his voice was. But he was beyond caring. "I know they're not in there, because the only ones to put them in there would have been you. So, either you're lying about having them put in there, or you're lying about stealing them, I don't care. Just— please. Please give them back."

The four of them passed a guilty glance. "We can't," Beau replied finally.

"The fuck you can't," Verin spat. "Give them back!"

"Verin, love, we would really love to," the tiefling added, "but we can't."

"I don't understand; is it precious things you want? Here, have some!" He strode over to the boxes and ripped the first open, tossing the lid towards the bathroom door Jester was peeking out of. He reached in to grab a necklace—an ugly one, he had always thought, with a stylised beacon—and threw it in their direction.

Beau caught it. Of course.

"Have a whole box, actually, if you like them so damn much." He reached inside and pulled out a jewellery box, tears prickling in his eyes. He threw one of those, too, just for good measure. It gave him some satisfaction that Widogast had to dodge it. "Just give me back the bloody earrings that my brother wore at my fucking consecution!" He was properly crying now and could only imagine the mess he looked like, but he had reached his limit. And, in his opinion, he was allowed to with all that was going on.

At least they looked a little bit guilty. "Fuck man, we didn't know," Beau mumbled.

"It's just one pair, Beau," Jester called over from the bathroom. "I'm sure it will be alright."

"Yes, there's no need for this to escalate," Fjord agreed and strode over to them, his hands raised innocently.

"I don't even know you people," Verin muttered, looking at the people crowding into his brother's bedroom. "Why did I even let you inside?"

"Do you want the earrings back?" the aasimar woman asked, reaching into a bag at her hip. Had she been carrying a greatsword for the whole time? Verin suddenly noticed how overpowered he was, were he to face all of them. "You can have them back if you want. Here, you can have them back."

"For a moment," Widogast added, slowly drawing closer to him and taking the earrings from the aasimar. He held them out on his flat hand, almost like he had seen soldiers offer treats to horses. His whole demeanour reminded him of someone trying to calm a spooked animal. For some reason, that seemed hilarious to him and he couldn't help the hysterical giggle that escaped his throat.

"Verin, I need you to calm down," he continued. "I know that's easier said than done, but you need your head."

"I think we should all calm down," Clay said from the doorway. And despite being surprised again, he did. It didn't make any sense, but few things these days did.

"Did it work?" the halfling asked. Verin wasn't really sure what she was talking about.

"It did," Clay confirmed.

"Gut," Widogast said and pressed the earrings that had seemed so important a moment ago into Verin's hands. "I think we should maybe go somewhere else, ja? Will you come with me?"

Inadvisable as it might be, if Essek had trusted that man, he should, too. And out of all of the Nein, he seemed to be the most normal one. The one he could see Essek with most. So, he nodded.

"I'll get us back to the kitchen, quickly." Caleb held out his hand and Verin closed his eyes, steeling himself. 'I hate Dimension Door,' was the last thing that crossed his mind before the teleportation spell ripped him away, together with: 'We haven't been to the kitchen, yet.'

Evidently, there went something wrong with the spell. Verin didn't know much about magic, but he knew Dimension Door couldn't transport more than two people. So, when he heard Beau groan and say "Fuck, dude, warn us next time," he knew that something wasn't right.

"You knew about the plan, Beauregard," Widogast replied.

"It doesn't matter," Fjord decided. "Caduceus, do you think you could make tea again? I think the Calm Emotions is about to wear off."

Cautiously, Verin opened one eye, then the other. They were, in fact, standing in a kitchen, as far as he could tell. All of the Mighty Nein were surrounding him. The furniture seemed to have been made for people taller than them; Essek probably would need to float in order to avoid awkwardly climbing onto the chair. The firbolg, however, who was fussing with a teapot, seemed to fit right in. All in all, the interior was very rustic. And very much not in Essek's towers, not that he had ever seen that room, of course.

The panic hit him once more. Verin whirled around to the wizard, instinctively grasping for his sword. "Where the fuck—" he faltered, finding his hip bare. Of course, he hadn't brought it for the funeral. Instead, he opted for just grasping Widogast by the lapels and lifting him up a bit. It was supposed to be menacing, which surely would be more effective, were humans not so annoyingly tall. "Where the fuck are we?!" he spat out.

A lot of things seemed to happen at once—he heard a "Fuck, man, what-" from Beau, a "Well, Mister Thelyss" from the pirate, several hands trying to tug him away from the weak wizard—but he didn't pay them any mind. He just shook Widogast, who looked entirely too calm for his liking, and demanded: "Answer me!"

"Leave him," was all Widogast said. "He has every right to be angry."

Indeed, the people grasping at him retreated, still on guard and surrounding him. There was a creak outside the door and Verin desperately wished for his sword once more. Then, a voice cut through the tense silence that had descended over the kitchen: "Caleb, is that you? You're back early."

"Yeah, there were some complications. Best come and look yourself, Schatz."

There was a sigh that was entirely too familiar for Verin's liking. Then, the door opened with a creak and in walked a dead man. "Complications," Essek Thelyss said with a fond smile. "I was just a Sending away, what did you come here fo— oh."

The person wearing his brother's face stopped in their tracks as they saw him. A couple of complicated emotions passed over his face—confusion, surprise, regret, guilt. If he hadn't known before, Verin was certain now that they were impostors, all of them. His brother would never tolerate such a display of weakness. Still, the impostor said: "Hello, brother."

Verin whipped his head back around to the wizard in his grasp. "What the fuck are you playing at?" he hissed.

"I- what- Verin!" the Essek-impostor sputtered. "What are you doing; put him down!"

"I would appreciate that, yes," Widogast added.

"Not before you don't tell me what's going on."

"Going on?" The impostor sneered and shook his head in a perfect imitation of his brother. "Nothing is going on, Verin."

"You died," he accused him.

"Evidently not," Essek scoffed.

Verin narrowed his eyes, looking from the man claiming to be his brother over the other too calm wizard to the rest of the Nein, seemingly perfectly happy to let this play out. "Prove it," he demanded. "Tell me something only my brother would know."

"You've become paranoid," he noted and Verin couldn't decide if it sounded proud or disappointed. "Alright. When you and I were in our early thirties, you once got in trouble for scaling the outside of mother's mansion. Rightfully, I should have gotten in trouble, too, but I was hiding on the attic. And the reason you never told anyone, is because then you'd have had to explain that I, the wizard, had somehow outpaced you, the fighter, in a climbing competition."

Verin wrinkled his nose at that. "Well, my brother cheated."

"I did not cheat, thank you very much!" He huffed indignantly and crossed his arms. "You didn't say 'no magic' before we started."

He stared at Essek for a few moments. "It's you," he whispered.

"Obviously."

Verin dropped the wizard on the ground and looked over at his brother; really looked. The man looked nothing like the one he had known for most of his life. His hair was longer than it had ever been since he'd cut it off and his bare feet were touching the ground. His clothes were casual, a simple tunic and trousers. After this day, Verin knew for a fact that not even Essek's trancing clothes were that informal, and yet his brother looked more comfortable in them in another's house than he had in decades. On top of that, he kept glancing over to Widogast. And smiling. Essek was smiling.

No, this man looked nothing like the one Verin had known for nearly a century. But he looked a lot like his brother.

"You're alive," he said stupidly.

"Yes, of course I am," Essek said, as if Verin hadn't just attended his funeral.

It felt only right to tell him so: "Why are you alive? I was at your funeral."

"That's a long story," he sighed and floated onto one of the chairs that were slightly too tall for him. He accepted a cup of tea from Clay with thanks and turned back to Verin. "Why are you here?"

"Well, that's a pretty long story, too," Jester spoke up. "He kind of started freaking out about your earrings, I think? And he was crying and looking pretty awful and everything, right Caleb?"

"I, ah— didn't think he'd believe us if we told him about you," Caleb said. "So, we had agreed beforehand to bring him here, in case of an emergency."

"He thought we were lying," Clay added.

"I suppose it is my story to tell," Essek said. "Earrings, Verin?"

"They're your favourite," Verin said stupidly and held them out to him.

His face grew soft. "Oh," he said as he took them gingerly, "I didn't know that you kne—"

Before he could overthink and do something stupid like stop himself, he surged forward and enveloped his brother in a tight hug. After a moment Essek closed his arms around him, too.

It seemed so unreal, to be able to hold him after mourning him for what felt like years. All the worries, all the grief and anger that had crushed him in the past few weeks and for what? For the bastard to still be alive after all. It wasn't fair. Why had he had to go through all of that? And why did he feel the pressing urge to start crying again? He should be happy, shouldn't he, that his brother wasn't dead. So why did it make him feel so awful?

"I think this is our cue to leave," Fjord said. Verin felt his brother nod and heard the Mighty Nein shuffle out of the kitchen, the door closing behind them with a creak. 

Only then, Essek spoke up. "Verin," he asked quietly, "are you crying?"

"Shut up," he mumbled through the thick fog of tears and snot, definitely not crying. "I hate you, Essek. Do you know what I went through?" 

"Meeting the Mighty Nein? Yes, I can imagine."

"They're horrible," he complained. "They're loud and they're rude and they had absolutely no respect for any of your belongings! I thought I was going mad."

"They are. They also are my friends, you know."

"How?" he asked agonised.

"I know they don't look like it, but they are surprisingly capable. And I am sure that you've noticed most of them to be annoyingly charming. But I think their absolute worst traits are their infinite stubbornness and perseverance. They quite literally did not leave me alone until they had befriended me."

Verin glanced up at him questioningly. "And were half in love with the wizard?" he guessed.

Essek scowled darkly, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. "Perhaps."

He snorted and disentangled himself from their embrace. Very calmly he said: "You're a liar." 

Essek looked genuinely startled at that. "What?"

"You said, you trusted me more than him. Why then, did he know and I didn't?"

"It's... complicated," he said.

"You wizards say that a lot."

"Verin." Essek closed his eyes. "I trust you. Implicitly. And I care about you. Which is why I chose not to burden you with the knowledge of my misdeeds. I didn't— I didn't want to put you in an impossible situation to choose between me and our queen."

He laughed nervously. "What on earth are you talking about? I mean, you didn't commit treason or anything."

Essek didn't answer, avoiding eye-contact instead.

"Right?"

Still, Essek kept stubbornly quiet.

"Oh," Verin breathed. He took a moment trying to reconcile what he knew about his brother with the fact that he was apparently a traitor. It all fit together ridiculously easy. "The beacons."

Essek looked up at him in shock and he knew he had hit the mark. "What?"

"You stole the beacons." Now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense. Essek had been studying them at the time, one of the only people with frequent access to them. He had always been fascinated by them, yet his theories had been rejected for their heretic nature. As Shadowhand, he had also regular contact with counterparts from the Empire, albeit not officially. Then, a few years after Essek’s research had been denied, they had vanished. How had he never seen this before?

"Oh Essek...," he said softly.

"No, please— I don’t—Please don’t—” He seemed to deflate, curling in on himself. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you, I—”

"I don't care,” Verin interrupted his frantic ramblings.

"What?" Essek looked up at him, looking just as shocked as Verin felt.

“I don’t care,” he repeated, realising that it was true the moment the words left his mouth. For how could he care about something as trivial as treason when Essek was sitting right in front of him, alive and well. "You're my brother, I don't care. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in a year. Maybe in ten. Right now, I only care that you're alive."

“I—What—I don’t—” Essek stuttered, lifting and then lowering his hands a few times. “I don’t know how— If I can—Fuck.”

There was a joke on the tip of his tongue, but even he knew that this wasn’t the right time for it. Essek was obviously trying to tell him something and it took him a minute to decipher that strange behaviour. “Are you asking for a hug?” he hazarded a guess.

An agonised expression passed over his face and for a moment Verin thought there were tears gathering in his brother’s eyes. Surely not. “I don’t know if I may. I don’t mean to overstep—”

Without further ado, Verin stepped forward and gathered a yelping Essek up and squeezed him tightly. “Of course you may!” he assured him, awkwardly patting his shaking shoulders. “I love you, Essek. I am very glad that you’re alive.”

“I’m very glad to see you, too,” Essek answered and squeezed him a little tighter.

[soulmate-game]

Harley’s Plea for Help: Chapter 2

Chapter 1

“How long do you think it’s gonna take before she decides to sneak out?” Nightwing asked over his comms, lazily leaning against the balcony railing in front of him with his head resting on one hand.

“Dude, I started sneaking out almost twenty minutes ago,” a girl’s voice made Nightwing squeak and turn around, to reveal a teenage girl leaning against the door that led to the balcony he was on. “I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by doing unnecessarily showy gymnastics down from my hotel room’s balcony, no matter how much fun that would be, so I just snuck out one of the hotel’s back exits. Then I looked up to admire the moon and saw you here, staking out what is clearly my suite, and decided to come pay you a visit.”

“How long have you been there? And how did you even get behind me? I hope you didn’t break and enter, that’s an actual lived-in apartment behind us right now,” Nightwing asked, turning around to analyze the daughter of Harley Quinn for the first time in person.

She looked just like in her pictures, of course. Jet black hair like her father’s, except it seemed to have a bluish shine in the light. And her eyes were definitely Harley’s— thank goodness for that —vibrant blue and clearly analyzing him with the same amount of intensity as his did her. He had to bite back a chuckle. In a turn of complete irony, she really did look like a Wayne kid. Fit all of Bruce’s usual criteria to be adopted. But she was tiny, even smaller than Harley’s lithe form. He, Bruce, and Tim were of the hypothesis that the exposure both her parents had to Ace Chemical’s vats of acid likely had an effect on her DNA that stunted her growth. Perhaps there were other effects that they wouldn’t be able to figure out until they got to know her better, too, though it was clear that her skin was a likely one. It wasn’t unnaturally pale like her parent’s after their acid dips but it was paler than normal for sure, just a shade or two shy of being paper white.

And he could see, now, what Harley meant when she referred to Marinette as a powerhouse. It wasn’t very noticeable in pictures, but up close Dick could see the carefully honed muscle of an acrobat curling over her otherwise slim build. Combined with the knowledge that Marinette had been taught at least some serious self defense from a young age, he could see how such a tiny package could be a remarkable threat when necessary.

Marinette grimaced as the other Batfam, who were all nearby staking out her room from different angles, dropped onto the large balcony with them.

“Uh, well. I didn’t break and enter, I rather not get off to a criminal-ly start on my first night in Gotham, you know? But I realized that even though I was able to figure out the exact room you were staking me out from, I realized as soon as I got into the first floor of the building that I had no idea how to actually get to you. So I just climbed the stairs all the way to the roof and scaled my way down to this balcony, and pretended I’ve been here for a while when really I was barely able to hear you ask when I was gonna sneak out. I’m still out of breath, actually,” she put a hand on her chest and sure enough her breathing was still slightly fast. But not enough to be worrying or even all that noticeable. Yet another piece of evidence to show that she was a very active individual and had resistance built up to physical activity.

“Yup,” Robin groused grumpily, crossing his arms. “With all that rambling, you couldn’t be anyone else’s child but Quinzel’s.”

Marinette’s face immediately flushed pink all the way to her ears. “I’m sorry! I’ve been trying so hard to quit that habit, too!” She grumbled a bit to herself, putting her face in her hands. They all chuckled at the display. Red Hood ambled over, draping his arm over her shoulders (he nearly had to bend in half to do it, the height difference was that bad).

“As adorable as your freak out is, why’d you even come up here anyway? There’s no way you’d scale down a ten-story building just to say hello.”

She let out a heavy sigh at that, slowly peeling her face out of her hands. “Yeah, I recognized you guys right away. And honestly, as much as Momma Harley would be super proud of me for managing to give an entire group of vigilantes the slip, she’d also ground me for life if she found out that I saw you guys and still snuck away even though she probably swallowed her pride and asked you guys to babysit me, right? Self preservation. Contrary to popular belief, I do actually have some.”

“Wait,” Red Robin held up a hand, brows clearly furrowed under his cowl. “You expected her to ask for our help?”

“Well,” she made a so-so motion with her hand. “I didn’t think of it beforehand, but it all clicked once I saw Nightwing. I know how much my mom is worried about me, especially since you-know-who broke out a few days ago. She is more than worried enough to ask you guys for help. Even if she does complain about you guys, a lot actually, she also has made it clear that she trusts you guys with the stuff that actually matters.

“‘You know who’?” Batman repeated, arms crossed. If Marinette squinted, she thought there might have been a grin on his lips. “Is that how you always refer to him?”

“What else am I gonna call him?” she asked, face going deadpan. “Sperm donor? Source of a large amount of my self doubt and depreciation? The prime reason I haven’t been able to see my mom in person more often over the years? Oh, I know! How about I just always refer to him as ‘that bastard I wanna punch,’? That sounds good!” she rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Only one person in this world has the right to be considered my father in any capacity, and it sure as hell isn’t him. Genetics notwithstanding.”

Red Hood straight up guffawed at that, landing several rough pats on her back that made the girl stumble a bit. “Yep, I like this one! But as fun as it would be to see you give that jackass a mean left hook, it’s better if he never finds out who you are or knows that you’re here,” the vigilante’s voice got dark and serious very quickly. “He doesn’t forget people he finds interesting easily, and if he ever finds out about the connection you have to him, he’ll be a constant threat in your life.”

“I know,” Marinette agreed with a nod. “And if this conversation was happening two years ago, I’d say that my mom’s concerns aren’t unfounded. That I am too easily emotionally compromised and despite my deep seated issues and hatred for that man, I couldn’t guarantee he would be unable to get to me.”

Batman straightened up, as did all of his sons around him. None of them had missed the ‘if’ there. Batman’s voice went from charmingly deep to it’s usual gruff grumble. “What changed in two years?”

They all watched as Marinette gulped, taking a deep breath as she stalled for time, looking out at the view on the balcony before seeming to steel herself and return her gaze to Batman’s. When she did, it was suddenly full of iron will.

“I didn’t lie when I told Mom that I came to visit her— but that isn’t the whole truth, either. If I just wanted to visit her in Gotham, I would have waited until I was eighteen like we agreed. But I can’t wait, Paris can’t keep going on like this. I entered that contest because it was the fastest way to see you. I didn’t know if I would win, but… I had to take the chance. There was no way I’d be able to get to Gotham behind my mom’s back otherwise.”

“What are you talking about?” Robin hissed, stepping up to his father’s side. “Paris has been silent. If anything were happening, we would have heard about it by now.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Marinette corrected, never losing that ironclad look in her eyes. “Because a combination of magic and politics is keeping it quiet. No news about Paris’ situation is able to leave the city limits. Magic makes any non-native who leaves Paris think that everything they experienced was just a crazy dream. Natives won’t forget, but politics has all of us under very strict NDAs if we leave city boundaries, and all of our local news and social media is blocked from being accessed by anyone outside the city. But, I figured a little breaking of the rules wouldn’t exactly put a stain on my family’s reputation or anything, so,” she dug in her pocket and pulled out a thumb drive, holding it up for all of them to see. She swallowed again, but never stopped her eye contact with Batman. She held out the thumb drive.

“I came to Gotham to ask for your help. This sped things up, I didn’t expect to see you on my first night here, but two years in Hawkmoth’s Paris has really taught me how to roll with the punches. This,” she shook the thumb drive. “Holds videos of every fight since HawkMoth first showed up. It has all the information I’ve gathered over two years, tracks his movements and lists all his targets and— everything. But I’m not a detective, I’m a designer. I make clothes, I spar on the weekends, I am not good at getting evidence to prove that someone is a magic-abusing villain holding an entire city hostage.”

“We’re gonna need some details, Little Q,” Red Hood finally removes his arm from around her shoulders, instead crossing his arms and looking down at her sternly. “If your city has a villain holding it hostage, is anyone fighting him? And if you do have someone fighting him, why don’t you need our help, or why didn’t they call the Justice League? The JLE should be in Paris, right?”

Marinette snorted, face scrunching up in obvious distaste. “I’ll have to answer those a little out of order. First; the JLE was kicked out of Paris. They moved their headquarters to Italy about five years ago, I’m just surprised they apparently kept that secret from you,” she gestured to all of them, who indeed seemed very caught off guard by that tidbit. But Marinette just sighed and continued. “Though that’s a good thing, actually. We do have heroes, it started out as just a pair but it’s grown into a small team out of necessity. They didn’t call the Justice League because the last thing we need is any powered heroes coming in and making it worse— your league doesn’t have the best reputation for letting newer heroes take the lead even on their home turf, you know,” she pointed out, which made Batman shift a bit guiltily. He knew the JL was often a bit… heavy handed in their methods.

“What makes the situation so bad that you don’t want to bring experienced heroes into it?” Red Robin cut in, sounding as if the whole situation was a puzzle he was determined to sort out. Which, really, was exactly what Marinette had been counting on. She shot him a finger gun, grinning.

“That’s exactly the point! Hawkmoth uses a magical artifact, like I said— but this artifact can brainwash anybody who experiences even the slightest negative emotion. Sadness, anger, fear— anything negative. And it gives them powers, but puts them largely under his influence,” her expression twisted again, this time into a wry little grimace. “I guess you can say that my momma’s psychiatry background has secretly come in handy a lot over these past two years. And Hawkmoth is exactly why I try to tell Momma Harley to stop visiting me— I have worked my butt off to keep her from finding out about his attacks or getting Akumatized. Every time she shows up it gives me a heart attack!”

“Akumatized?”

Marinette waved a hand dismissively. “It’s the term used for when someone is turned into a super powered villain because of HawkMoth. The brainwashing— really it’s more similar to a straight up corruption. The person usually lacks their usual moral compass, and just seeks to soothe whatever set off their negative emotion in the first place. Usually, that means they seek a bloody revenge. And if someone who already has extensive training or extremely strong powers gets Akumatized, guess what?” She made jazz hands even though her face was deadpan. “Extra powers, or amplified ones, for the metas or superheroes who are Akumatized. And imagine what someone with, say, Batman’s level of experience could do if he had powers and no moral compass,” the silence that followed her words was deafening. She just nodded, knowing she had gotten her point across. “I’ve been working my butt off to stay positive, because if I’m Akumatized…” her shoulders fell, and she had to swallow a lump in her throat. “... I have no idea what I’d turn into, but if you take into consideration both my training and my family history… it’s really best if we never find out what kind of magic-powered supervillain I’d make.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Nightwing said after another long moment of silence for that to all sink in. He gestured at her with an open palm. “You’ve been dealing with a terrorist for two years who targets emotional vulnerability, you apparently have never been corrupted by this magic at least to present day, but your mother still worries about you being very emotionally fragile. And your heroes are not detectives, which is clearly what you need or you wouldn’t have asked us for our help.”

Marinette nodded. “I used to be very impressionable. At the start of all this, I was a huge people-pleaser. I got attached to new people in a matter of minutes. My mom always said I reminded her too much of herself— but two years of fighting off a guy trying to get into my head—“

“Wait,” Batman nearly barked, taking a step forward. “He’s been targeting you? You specifically?”

Marinette nodded grimly, mouth a straight line. “Not from the beginning, but this past year it’s been painfully obvious. He might be able to sense the strength of people’s emotions, and unfortunately I don’t exactly experience my emotions very… gently. All of my emotions tend to the much more intense side of the spectrum. If that’s true, then he might know that any negative emotion I feel will make an extremely strong Akuma. Either that, or he’s going by process of elimination. All of my friends, except for one, have been Akumatized already. So has my Papan and my grandmother. But it’s obvious when he’s targeting someone, I’ve felt him try to override my will on several occasions. But I can’t just repress all of my negative emotions forever, so consider us working against the clock right now. That thumb drive has all the details you need about our heroes, how exactly Hawkmoth’s powers work, and so on.”

“Do your heroes know you’re asking for our help?” Red Robin asked, gaze burning a figurative hole through Marinette’s face. “Better yet, if this drive has as much information as you say it does, how did you get it?”

Marinette handed the drive over to Batman, who finally took it and tucked it in his belt as she answered.

“Momma Harley might have a lot to say about your detective skills, but you are all still strangers to me. So consider this a test of your abilities— I expect that you will all go to extreme lengths to verify all of the information I gave you anyway. After all, I’m still the daughter of your most hated enemy. Right?” She met each of their gazes, one by one, with a challenging one of her own. “You’ll just have to figure out my connection to the heroes on your own. And how I got the information, too. It shouldn’t be too hard for the so-called world’s greatest detectives. And maybe this can double as a trust exercise. I fully expect you guys to scour through every inch of my past, and dig up everything you can on me. I encourage you to try to find everything you can, so that hopefully you can decide to trust me on your own once you have all the details laid out in front of you. By the way, for your own sanity? I’d start with reading about all of our heroes’ powers and abilities before you watch any footage of past attacks.”

Red hood rocked back on his heels, trading glances with the other vigilantes before they all shared a nod. Apparently having decided their course of action, Red Hood leaned down and hoisted Marinette up into a princess carry. All traces of her previous iron will melted away in favor of the high pitched squeal of surprise she gave, and once more she became an overly flustered teenager.

“Alright, little cutie. Let’s get you to your mom’s place before she and her crazy plant lady fiancé come hunting us down.”

“I can walk! I can freerun on my own! Mon dieu please let me down! Eeeeek!” She squealed again as Robin slapped a domino mask over her eyes and Red Hood wasted no time jumping over the balcony railing with her still in his arms. The fact that they were lowered down by a wire wrapped around Hood’s waist didn’t seem to take away any of the fright that came with a sudden drop over an eighth-story balcony.

Part 1

@emotionalsupportginger @alysrose-starchild @emistar0 @kibastray @justanotherfanficlovinbitch @alyssadeliv @blackroserelina @blackstarlight-co @readingalldaysleepingallnight @maanae @aespades @jaybird-and-co @fleursroses @probably-a-hologram @misterpianoman (didn’t work sorry)