#and instead of seeing an empty shell or a new family living there

[porschesbabydaddy]

Currently obsessively thinking about an AU where Porsche and Chay are found by Gun at a young age and raised by the minor family

[itslouisan]

((@leticiachaos on twitter))

Time for Q!Tallulah headcannons!!

Fair warning: this post has mentions of depression, abandonment issues, trust issues, poor living conditions; all of the mentions of Wilbur are ONLY mentions to his character not the real person.

• Due to her abandonment and trust issues, Tallulah created a tough and cold exterior not opening herself to anything new, but, if you manage to break the shell, she's sweet, caring, loyal, nice, creative, the loveliest egg possible

• She likes Richas, but has jealousy, after all he came AFTER her and still has most of the island around him and ADOPTING HIM??? While SHE had to ground herself to an empty promise of a returning loving father and feeling alone most of the time "without" a "real" family to comfort her.

• Due to her time in the attic Tallulah developed anemia due to not having for a long time the necessary nutrients and surviving off of dirt.

• She hates the smell of moss, dirt and related things despite loving botany due to her time in the attic

Black: depression, extreme anger, sorrow or loneliness, it's her way of expressing she's REALLY not feeling okay

• When she finally accepted Wilbur would never come back or be the father she wished and dreamt of, she cut her hair that was long since "hair holds memories", painted her hair black since Missa is Philza's partner and is more of a father to her than Wilbur could ever be and she was tired of holding herself to a small memory instead of accepting change and happiness

• Can't really vent not because her family wouldn't listen, but because of her trust issues and before having to be the "cute innocent girl who's there for everyone" she didn't have the space to vent and put her emotions first

• She was tired of her original red beanie matching Wilbur, it was too dirty and old, deciding to pick a purple one who matched her and a few mushroom hats to express her emotions

• Each color of mushroom represent an emotion (in canon I think she only had black and purple, but I expanded it considering there's a lot more patterns and colors of mushrooms, especially in a sort of magic island)

purple: neutral, calm, it's the regular she wears all the time

Pink: love, happiness, she's feeling creative or excited over something, possibly wanting or doing stims

Blue: shows more of "little" sadness, not strong enough to be depression or despair, but just enough to show it, also can mean fear.

Red: anger, hate.

• Due to her autism, she carries a pair of headphones ALL the time as well as stim toys, comfort objects or plushies, a sketchbook she writes and draws what she's feeling to better communicate it.

• She can play maracas, flute, piano, guitar (acoustic), kalimba.

• Big fan of musicals and history, in late nights she likes to listen to Philza's stories of the old times and Chay loves his battle stories, so they share this cozy moment

• In the beginning she could only see ghosts, but with time she could see the deities. She can see and feel their emotions but can't talk with them much, she mainly can see Mumza and Rose, Rose in the sanctuary where her power is centered and stronger, Mumza all around her dad (Phil >:) ) and every time she's with the crows.

• Knows flower language to write better letters to everyone, adding a deeper meaning, sometimes saying secret stuff through the flowers and as an extra giving pretty flowers

• Tallulah sometimes paints her nails with Phil and Chayanne, every week with a different design

• When Missa is home back from his journeys, Tallulah sees how exhausted her dad is, so she speaks in spanish (their native languages) and makes him some food or brings fruit

• Before she officially forgot Wilbur whenever she would come with other residents and her siblings, Tallulah sometimes felt weak, abandoned, left behind, after all, ALL the others had their parents, had close connections, she hated it but couldn't help but feel jealous, in these situations Phil and Chayanne always reassured her the best they could that they would never leave her and that she wouldn't go back to the attic.

• Makes bracelets for her close family, always wearing one with PxTxC on her left hand (Philza, Chayanne and Tallulah), in the right one she has a TxCxR (Tallulah, Richas, Chayanne) or it could be TxCxP (Tallulah, Chayanne, Pomme) after all she doesn't hate Richas, she hates that he's immature and acts "entitled" and dramatic over his issues, but still tries her best to be a good sister to him, also loves pomme a lot!! Considering Pomme her bestie

Reminder: Tallulah is just a child in rp, children don't know how to control their emotions and in situations of abandonment, neglect and lack of a trusting bond with a caretaker, children can struggle even more with emotions, care, jealousy, trust, self-esteem etc, so don't call Tallulah "selfish" or "spoiled" she has every right to be that way after what she's been through

• Due to her depression,sometimes Tallulah can't take care of herself, spending days or weeks in bed or just not feeling like going out, or when she does she doesn't show much interest, in these cases Phil and Chayanne always cooked some nice food and drinks, went to the nests, and chatted and comforted her

• She became a great fighter after the events of pre-purgatory and purgatory, she NEEDED a tough exterior since she was without Chayanne, and that time worsened her depression severely

[its-time-to-write]

bored

Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been posting less. Life’s been busy and I’ve been tired. Here’s some angst. It’s very long.

bored

It’s not falling out of love if you still love him, right? It’s more…slipping away. You feel like you’re falling off a cliff, scrambling for a handhold and coming up empty.

You hate this part in a relationship. The slide away. The boredom that creeps in. It happened with your last relationship, too. His name was Joseph, and you were together a year and a half when he started pulling away from you. It was little things at first, not talking as much and kissing you less. Then it was missing date nights and only kissing you on the forehead and silent dinners. He buried himself in books and barely looked at you and you knew the breakup was coming, but you could’t bring yourself to be the one to leave. So you didn’t. You just waited until he dropped the news at dinner and pretended like you were ok with it, and not that you had been secretly packing up your things for weeks.

It broke you a little bit. The slow pull. The obvious boredom that he had. The dissatisfaction with you. 

The waiting was torture, the aftermath was worse. Your dad was worried as you continued to dwindle into a shell of yourself. Skin pallid, eyes hallow, never smiling.

Your aunt Eileen said you needed to get out of the country and into a change of scenery, which is why you’re on a plane on your way to live with her in England. 

You’re fortunate that your job in graphic design allows for remote work and an asynchronous schedule.

It’s fun to live with Aunt Eileen. She’s very loud and very Irish. She only lives in London to be near her sister, who married and Englishman (much to the chagrin of the rest of your family). Your dad, their brother, married an American which was better-received. You have your mom’s accent, which is mostly due to the fact that you grew up in America. You think maybe if you grew up over here it would be different. 

Eileen does not let you be sad. And, it’s easier to forget about Joseph when there are no reminders of him around. It’s a completely new place with completely new faces. 

Eileen takes you all over Richmond. You meet her friends and the locals, and begin to feel things again. Not happiness per se, but some positive neutral.

Eileen kicks you out of the house every Thursday evening. She says it’s so you can explore and have time to yourself, but it’s really when all her yoga friends come over for rosé and awful reality shows. You don’t really mind, you caught a minute of one and couldn’t handle the absurdity of it. You suppose that’s the appeal, it just isn’t for you.

So instead, you get out. You brings a small sketchpad and a pencil, and create.

You haven’t done analog drawing in forever, and it’s refreshing to be away from a screen. You draw whatever you want, whether it’s your mood or a sketch of your surroundings. Little by little, you find yourself again.

—

Richmond is a big football town. Everyone loses their mind when there’s a match, and the streets become a sea of red and blue. Aunt Eileen doesn’t watch football, and neither do you. Like reality tv, you just can’t get into it. Apparently the coach (or gaffer) frequents a pub that Eileen takes you too, and he’s American like you. He heard you talking once and came over to introduce himself.

“I’m Ted and this is Coach Beard,” he had said. “Nice to hear a familiar accent around here. What’s been the biggest culture shock for you? Mine has been the fact that the cars all drive on the wrong side of the road.”

You like Ted and Beard. They remind you of home, the good parts of home. You see them pretty regularly and they talk about coaching and football, and listen to you tell them about your designs and family.

“You takin’ new work?” Ted asks one day. “Could find you some projects around Nelson Road.”

So now you’re contracted by a woman named Rebecca to keep things up to date around AFC Richmond’s headquarters.

Rebecca is something else. She’s everything you want to be, confident and fearless. She charges ahead and takes what she wants, but does it with kindness and grace. 

You suppose the kindness is what gets you the most here. Eileen thinks it’s good for you to get out and work with actual people instead of remote on a screen, and you privately agree with her. There isn’t always a lot of work to do, but Rebecca set you up with an office and allows you to work on projects for your other companies. Her friend Keeley pops in from time to time, to chat and tell you that your designs need more pink.

“It’s objectively the best color, babe,” she says. “Makes everything else pop!”

Keeley starts becoming your friend, too. 

Rebecca takes it upon herself to become your mentor of sorts, and she sits you for a meeting after your first week.

“What sort of work do you really want to do?” she asks. 

You tell her you love everything. You love murals and sketches and passion projects and surrealism. You love pencils and paint and digital art, but hate watercolor and charcoal. You love artsy interior designs and posters and tiny stickers and large paintings. You love making things expressive and beautiful, in whatever capacity you can. 

A week and a half later, you’re redecorating Keeley’s office.

“You know what I like, babe,” she says affectionately. 

And you do. You’ve known her two weeks, but she’s made an effort to get to know you and to make herself known. You’re trusting people again.

—

Keeley bursts into your office in a flurry of sequins and fringe two days after you did her office, dragging someone by the hand. 

“Babe,” she says, breathless from her obvious run to you, “tell Jamie he fucking cannot wear socks and sandals.”

You look at this Jamie and see he is indeed committing a terrible fashion faux pas.

And… looking good while doing it?

You look back at Keeley. “Keels, why are you asking me?”

She looks at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Because you’re Richmond’s art person! You know what looks good and what doesn’t! And this one-” she pauses to pinch Jamie’s cheek affectionately, “won’t fucking listen to me.”

Jamie shrugs, looking embarrassed. “Sorry to bug you,” he says. “Know you’ve got other shit to do.”

This is interesting. This Jamie is looking sheepish, blush tingeing the tips of his ears. You don’t know him, but what you’ve seen of all the footballers, they have egos for miles. They’re all incredibly kind, but definitely confident. Embarrassment doesn’t even seem like something any of them are capable of, but here’s Jamie in front of you, all apologetic and shooting glances at Keeley with the clear message let’s go.

Keeley isn’t paying attention, just bouncing on her toes and waiting for your response. 

You assess Jamie and say, “Actually, he’s pulling it off.” You give him your name and he smiles a little, sticks out his hand, and says, “I’m Jamie.”

Keeley frowns at you (not a real one) then grabs Jamie’s hand and marches out the door in a similar fashion that she entered. Jamie throws you one last apologetic glance before he’s dragged out the door.

You sit back in your chair, processing what just happened. This is the first time you’ve actually met someone on the team, and it was not at all what you expected. 

—

You’re working through lunch on a side project the next day, when there’s a knock on your doorframe. 

“Jamie!” you say, looking up in surprise, “What can I help you with?”

He fidgets for a moment then replies, “Keeley sent me to make sure you weren’t working through lunch.”

Oh. That’s interesting.

You frown, though not at him. “Don’t worry, I’m not.”

Jamie squints at you. “You fucking lying?”

He says it so sincerely that you laugh, and put down your pen. “Yes I am, but if Keeley asks then no. I’m taking my required mental break and not working.”

Jamie moves from the doorway and plops down on the chair across from your desk.

“Whatcha working on?”

You spend the better part of thirty minutes telling Jamie about a redesign for a children’s center logo and the details of keeping the essence while modernizing it and revamping the color scheme, all while he nods and asks questions in all the right places. It’s not until your alarm goes off on your phone that you both jump and say, “Shit,” in unison.

“I’m late. Roy’s gonna fucking kill me,” Jamie groans.

You feel terrible. “I’m so sorry,” you respond sincerely. “Shit, I’m sorry. Tell Roy it was my fault.”

Jamie shakes his head. “Nah, weren’t yours. Should’ve kept a better eye on the time.” 

He’s halfway out the door when he turns back and smiles at you. “I’ll tell Keeley you took a real break.” He winks and and disappears around the corner.

You make a mental note to ask Keeley about this whole thing later.

—

“Oh he’s into you, babe.” Keeley says, hours later when you’re at her house for drinks and dinner. 

“WHAT, no!” you protest, “He’s not! He was just- just-”

Keeley nods and smirks. “Can’t finish that sentence, can you? Y’know, I just told him to check on you. I didn’t say anything about eating lunch with you.”

Rebecca nods in agreement. “I also overheard him telling Ted that he didn’t think you were attractive at all.”

You and Keeley turn to her with matching quizzical expressions.

“He was clearly not telling the truth. I didn’t even have to see his face, I could hear it in his voice,” Rebecca explains.

“Ooh, right, yeah, Jamie’s a shit liar!” Keeley exclaims. “Oh my god babe, I literally can’t believe it. You’d be so fucking adorable together.”

Rebecca tilts her head and gives you an appraising look. “I can see it,” she says.

Your face is on fire but you’re laughing and shaking your head. “If Eileen didn’t have her yoga group over for drinks, I would be totally out of here.”

—

Rebecca was right. Jamie does like you and he asks you out the next week. 

He says, “I think you’re fucking amazing. Do you want to get dinner?”

He’s radiating so much confidence that despite yourself, you laugh and say yes. Eileen is beside herself, so happy that you are going out with “such a nice young man.” Keeley and Rebecca feel a similar way. Keeley’s boyfriend Roy just grunts. You like Roy. He’d never admit it, but he’s very kind. You know he threatened Jamie within an inch of his life when he heard you two had started dating, and the sentiment almost made you tear up. Almost.

—

You slip in to a pattern. Living with Eileen, spending nights with Jamie. Dinner with Keeley and Roy, drinks with Keeley and Rebecca. Walks in the park, early morning breakfasts, family picnics. Jamie is present for everything except girl’s night. (He makes a pretty convincing argument for why he should be included, if you’re being honest). 

It’s… scary. You’re still hurting from Joseph, but Jamie does his best to erase any trace of him. He tells you he’s going to kiss every inch of your skin, so that his lips are the only ones you think of. He brings you flowers and makes sure to tell you how much he loves you.

Eileen pretends not to notice that your bed is empty more nights than not, and you do your best to return that courtesy by keeping her in the loop of your comings and goings, so she knows if she should save you dinner. 

You and Jamie are together like this for four and a half months. It’s wonderful and terrifying and perfect.

You’ve almost forgotten Joseph ever existed.

Until one morning, Jamie has returned from morning training with Roy.

He walks in the door and you say, “Hi babe!” from your position by the coffeemaker. Jamie doesn’t respond, just absentmindedly kisses you on the cheek and grabs a cup. He doesn’t even smile at you. You look at him for a minute as he moves around the kitchen, waiting for him to acknowledge your presence. He doesn’t. He’s out the door again in a minute, barely even saying goodbye.

You chalk it up to the upcoming match. He always gets a little more focused than usual when it’s against Man City. You tell yourself he’ll be better by Sunday.

—

He’s not.

—

Jamie’s pulling away from you. 

It’s Joseph all over again.

You start to do little things to get his attention. You put on his favorite lingerie set under a “Tartt” jersey and greet him with it when he gets home. He kisses you on the fucking forehead and goes to grab dinner. He goes straight to the bed to sleep right after. 

You make his favorite dinner and set the table all fancy, candles and everything. Jamie says an absent thanks. You eat in silence.

He brushes off any attempt you make to kiss him, and you can count the amount of words he’s said to you on one hand. You feel like a child, the way he’s treating you and all of the sudden, in between bites of chicken, you know. 

Jamie’s bored.

This is ending.

You spend the night because it would be weird not to, but you lay in bed, awake the whole time. You’re under every single blanket Jamie owns, yet your blood is running cold. It’s the only thing you can feel, really, other than your heart beating furiously in your chest. The rest of you is just… numb. You pretend to be asleep when Jamie gets up at 3:30am for training, but the moment you hear the door shut you leap out of bed and collect your things. You successfully sneak back into Aunt Eileen’s house and sit on the floor of the bathroom until sunrise, knees pulled to your chest as you stare at the floor

There’s been a constant rushing in your ears since dinner with Jamie, one that accompanies you as you mechanically dress and head to Nelson Road. Your body is on autopilot as you head to your desk, past Ted and Beard, past Dani, past Sam, Nate, and Will. You know Jamie’s there, although you don’t see him. You spend most of the day glancing at your door, waiting for him to appear with lunch and an explanation.

He doesn’t.

—

It’s late, not too late but late enough that the boys are all gone, and you’re in the locker room making aesthetic assessments for Rebecca when you see it.

Jamie’s locker. 

The voice in your head screams don’t do it! but your legs are moving on their own accord, drawn by some strange impulse. You stop in front of his locker and look inside. 

Your picture is gone. 

It’s your favorite one. Eileen took it at dinner one night. You’re in the kitchen stirring something on the stove, laughing at something Jamie said. He’s grinning at you and looking at you with stars in his eyes. The love is palpable.

And it’s gone. 

Autopilot gives way to shock and your knees buckle. You’re on the floor and you’re not sure how you got there or how long you’re crying, but the door is opening and Nate is kneeling next to you and asking if you’re alright in a soft voice. You don’t respond, just keep crying, and next thing you know Keeley’s arms are around you as you panic on the floor of the Richmond locker room.

—

She drives you to Eileen’s, and you burst in through the front door. 

“Eileen!” you gasp, “It’s happening again, he doesn’t love me and I don’t know what I did-” you ram into something solid not he threshold.

“Fuck,” says Roy, although that’s not surprising because that’s roughly 80% of his vocabulary.

“Hi babe,” says Keeley in a small voice, hot on your heels, “Forgot this was yoga night.”

“What?” you ask, Jamie temporarily forgotten.

Roy just sighs and says, “Come on. Eileen’s got rosé in the kitchen. But you already fucking knew that, didn’t you.”

—

Turns out Roy is part of Eileen’s yoga group. You swear never to tell anyone.

He, in turn, succinctly grills you on Jamie.

“What the fuck did the little prick do?” he asks in his most growly voice yet.

You’re in the kitchen with him, Keeley, and Eileen. Aunt Eileen has let the yoga group know there’s been a change of plans, and they take it all in stride. Maureen herds them all to G-A-Y and they’re gone in a moment.

So now you’re here, eyes dry but red, explaining how Jamie is bored of you.

Roy says, “Fuck.” Aunt Eileen looks like she’s ready to murder someone. Keeley just looks sad. 

“You’re coming to mine,” Keeley says, in a voice that leaves no room for arguments. “We’ll put on pajamas and do face masks and Roy will make that fancy little cheese platter he’s so good at.”

Roy doesn’t even protest, just nods and slips his hand around Keeley’s waist. She settles back against him in a way that makes your heart squeeze, because it’s the exact same way you would settle against Jamie.

Eileen says, “I’ll go pack you a bag,” and then she’s bustling upstairs to your room.

—

You and Keeley have matching cucumber-mango face masks, and you’re in her bed watching Look Both Ways. You can hear Roy downstairs in the kitchen putting cheese, grapes, and whatever the fuck else on a tray. He brings it up and places it on the bed, kissing Keeley with an amicable grunt. 

“I’m headed the fuck to sleep,” he says. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

You smile at him as best you can, which is really just turning your mouth into a straight line, and Keeley says “Bye, babe.”

Roy smiles (as big as he ever does) and leaves.

You reach for an olive and settle back on to the pillows.

—

You don’t sleep much, but you do sleep. Keeley is wrapped around you like a spider monkey so you finally drift off around 3am. It’s not lost on you that Jamie will be awake in thirty minutes, and that it should be his arms wrapped around you. 

—

You’re in your office for a grand total of fifteen minutes when Rebecca comes marching in.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asks.

“My job..?” you respond tentatively.

She shakes her head. “You’re getting the day off. As a matter of fact, you can take Monday as well. You do good work, and you’ve never missed a deadline. You can take a goddamn break.”

Oh. Keeley must have told her.

You nod slowly then get up to grab your bag.

Rebecca pauses for a moment, then pulls you into a hug. It’s incredibly calming.

Rebecca asks, “Do you need anything?”

You shake your head. “I think I’m just going to get my things from Jamie’s while he’s at training. I don’t want to make a scene. I’ll call him tonight and let him know we’re done, just so it isn’t prolonged anymore.”

Tears appear in your eyes and Rebecca hugs you again.

“Well,” she says, “just give me call. You know how to reach me.”

—

There’s a lot of things at Jamie’s, but fortunately you keep a box in the back of your car. You’ve cleaned out your tea from his cupboards, toiletries from his bathroom, and are now kneeling on the floor, emptying out your drawer. Your hands linger a little too long over the Tartt 9 jersey Jamie gave you when a voice says, “What the fuck are you doing?”

You jump. “Jesus, Jamie. Aren’t you supposed to be at training?”

“Coach said I had to go home. What the fuck are you doing?”

You skip over the fact that he didn’t elaborate on which coach sent him home and remind yourself to kill Roy.

You blow out a long, slow breath. Fuck. This was not how this was supposed to go.

“I um, I’m cleaning out my things.” You can’t look him in the eyes. You’re still on the floor, Jamie’s in the doorframe.

Jamie is silent so you continue.

“I just wanted to make things easier,” you tell the jersey in your hands. “I… know what’s happening. And it’s fine, really. I’m not…entitled to your love, you know? So… it’s ok. I just-” you sigh, body feeling so heavy all of a sudden, “I just wanna know one thing.”

You look at Jamie for the first time. “What is it about me that’s boring?”

Jamie opens his mouth to say something, but you barrel on. “You don’t have to lie, we’re probably never going to speak again, so just tell me. Because I’ve been over it a million times in my head and I can’t figure it out. I tried to figure it out with Joseph too. I get it if I were too clingy or too talkative or something, but what is it that makes me boring?” Tears have started streaming down your face at some point. God, this has been such a shit week. All this crying is making your eyes hurt.

There are tears in Jamie’s eyes, too.

“I- you- you aren’t boring,” Jamie croaks.

He could’ve fooled you.

“Then why have you been pulling away from?” you ask, voice small. “You kissed me on the forehead, Jamie. Like I was, I don’t know, your great aunt or something.”

Jamie rubs his face with his hand. “Shit, I- shit. I’m so fucking sorry. God, babe, I’m so, so fucking sorry. Roy told me to come here, said something about fucking shit up again, so I came here and found you like that on the floor and- shit, I just fucked up.”

He’s made his way over to you, slowly, like you’re a wild animal about to spook. He crouches down on the floor next to you and reaches out a hand to your cheek.

“It’s my dad,” he says finally. “He came ‘round, asking questions and shit, and he asked about you. And I fucking hated that. He knew your name and shit. Made some threats. I didn’t- I wanted to protect you. And I thought once you knew about him you wouldn’t want shit to do with me. I was fucking waiting for you to break up with me once you found out.”

Jamie’s voice is far too raw for this to story to be made up. The only thing you know about his dad is that he exists, and Jamie never talks about him. This… makes sense. It’s fucking stupid, but it makes sense. So you tell him.

“Jamie,” you say, “that is fucking stupid. It makes sense, but it’s fucking stupid.”

He hangs his head. “God, I know. He comes ‘round and I forget how to fuckin act.”

“Hey,” you say softly, tilting his chin up to meet his eyes. “This was shitty. But we’re learning. We’ll work on communicating, I promise. I’ll get better at it too. And as far as your dad goes, we’ll figure that out.”

Jamie laughs wetly and you bring his head close for a kiss.

You two will figure it out.

[ughhhdavid]

Another thing that bothered me is that... Ted became his trauma???? He was a people pleasing person, who never accepted any support from himself from the start. But there were other things too. He was optimistic. He was open to trying and experiencing new things. He was adventurous. He wanted to see the bright side. He had a sense of wonder.

And instead of him getting more free, more uninhibited and less restrained by his trauma he became it? He shut himself off and left everyone behind and turned down the offer for Michelle and Henry to have a chance to literally broaden their horizons and live in different places with him. To explore the world with him.

Instead he chose to become a shell of what he once was, repressed, in that same old town, making his son stay there too. Does he think Henry staying in one single family home in one town with the same old people never getting to find community and freedom like Ted did at Richmond is good for him????

Does Ted think that Henry having a dad that's lonely, and that left his home behind is good for him???

Jade pushed Nate when he was refusing to live up to his potential. Keeley pushed Roy. Just some examples. The show always had characters encouraging each other. So who's gonna do it for Ted???

Ted is so much more than just what he can do for others. He's not just a bucket from which he pours water for everyone else until he's empty. And it sucks so bad that the show ended his character arc as if he was.

[novamariestark]

Echoes, Fragments & Puzzle Pieces [B.B] [4/?]

Overall Summary: You are a young woman, trying to live your life after captivity. You live in the shadows after escaping from an organisation known as The Syndicate, desperate to copy Hydra's work. You were to be their Winter Soldier but with added "bonuses". But, when opportunity knocks, will you answer it?

Summary: Steve finds out about your concerns about accidentally hurting Bucky. Tony tells you he can help, but how?

[A/N] not proofread. Got off on a roll this morning but got some news and my mood just diminished. But I did promise to post this today, so here it is but I will most likely edit tomorrow.

Warnings: mention of murder (not detailed), Instead of Y/N I've put Lia, but of course you can replace it with your name.)

Word count: 3241

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: eventual Bucky x reader

“I don’t know my own name,”

“I feel empty,” you continued, “Like I’m just a shell of who I used to be. Whoever that was,” you looked down at your fingers, slightly ashamed that you were admitting this. Ashamed at how weak your voice sounded, “I-I just… I don’t know. That place…” you started but stopped when you remembered Wanda’s brother. You shook your head and shrugged as if you didn’t know what to say.

“What place?” Wanda asked.

“That place from your memory…” you spoke to the floor, avoiding her eyes and possible anger at you for bringing it up again, “I’ve seen it before. In my mind…”

“Perhaps it’s a memory, L-” Wanda put forward, stopping short when she was about to call you Lia again, “Why do you think Lia isn’t your name?”

You shrugged again, “I don’t know. It sounds familiar but it doesn’t sound like mine,”

“So perhaps a family member,” Wanda suggested, “Your mom or a sister,”

Your eyes began to water as you gave a little defeated shrug of your shoulders. Wanda reached out to touch you, but you jumped back, not wanting to drag up another painful memory for her. You didn’t feel as though you had control of your powers at the best of times but when you were nervous or upset, they seemed even more out of control.

“This is good, we have a place to start looking,”

“Looking?” you asked,

Wanda nodded. “Yeah, for your family, your identity,”

“You would do that?”

“Of course, you’re family now,”

Being around Wanda somehow put you at ease. You don’t know how but you trusted her so easily.  You both talked for another hour until Natasha came up to ask if you were joining them for training today. You gave a weak nod, not entirely up to it but you had to start some time.

“Great, get changed, there’s some gym clothes in your closet,” she gestured to the plain white storage unit that you had yet to look in, “We’ll meet Bucky and Steve in the gym,”

“No!” you said.

“Lia you just nodded a second ago,” Nat pointed out in confusion.

“I don’t want to train with Bucky,” you said, your voice quiet, barely audible to the girl sitting next to you.

Wanda lowered her eyebrows into a slight frown, “I thought you got along with Bucky,”

You nodded, “I do,” you replied quickly, only causing more confusion to the other’s in the room, “I just don’t want to train with him,”

Natasha nodded slowly and gestured for Wanda to leave with her, “Okay, we’ll leave you to get ready and I will inform Steve of the changes,” she said as she and Wanda moved toward the door.

After they left, you stood from your spot on the floor and went towards your closet. When you opened the door, you didn’t expect to see so many clothes. In fact, you hadn’t seen this many clothes anywhere except at a store. You took your time to look at each item, your fingers gliding across the soft fabrics, the texture changing slightly when you touched a different item.

You paused when you came to a dress and immediately shook your head. “No way,” you muttered aloud. No way would they ever get you in a dress.

A knock at your door startled you from your thoughts, “Come in,” you called. The door opened, slowly revealing the captain who stood on the other side.

“I’m sorry, Steve, I’ll be there in a sec. Just got distracted,” you said, assuming that the time you were taking was the reason he was there. It wasn’t.

“Actually…” he said, tentatively stepping through the door, giving you the chance to stop him, 

“I’m here about Bucky,” he stopped just inside the door, leaving the door open so he didn’t make you feel cornered, “Now I know that The Winter Soldier has a bad reputation, but I promise you that Bucky isn’t him anymore, you don’t have to be scared of him…”

“I’m not,” you said but the look on Steve’s face told you that he wasn’t convinced. Why else would you want to avoid Bucky, “I’m not scared of him,” you said more firmly.

“Okay, we’ll see you downstairs,” Steve said as he moved to exit your room.

“I can’t control it,” you blurted out before he could step foot out the door. He turned to look at you, his face showing you his next question, so you beat him to it, “I can’t control my powers,”

No matter how hard you tried to get them under control, you couldn’t. You didn’t know how and you had no guidance. Especially from The Syndicate, they just wanted you to be the most dangerous weapon they had in their arsenal. They didn’t care that your powers were too strong for you to handle, they didn’t care about collateral damage. As long as the target was dead, they didn’t care how many innocents you killed in the process.

Of course you remembered that. You remembered the blood on your hands, the cries of your victims, of innocent people just trying to live their lives. Lives they no longer had. Thanks to you, thanks to your powers.

“I don’t want to hurt him,”

“Lia, he’s a super soldier, like me, we can take it,” he said gesturing to himself. Obviously not understanding what you meant by "hurt him".

“I don’t mean physically,” you mumbled, fiddling with your fingers, “I dragged up one of Wanda’s worst memories and I hurt her.” You shook your head, tears beginning to break free from the oval chambers, “I don’t want to hurt him,”

He nodded slightly, “Okay,” A small smile began to paint itself on Steve’s face, “How’s your aim?”

You hadn’t used a gun in forever, especially after you got your powers, there was no need. Although, if you had used a gun then maybe less people would have died at your hands.

“Not sure,” you shrugged.

“We’ll focus on that today, if you’d rather not touch anyone,” Steve suggested, you nodded, smiling at his understanding. You had expected the man named “Captain America” to be a bit stricter, but he surprised you, “I’m going to go get Bucky and meet you there,” he said, before giving you a nod and leaving the room.

“Can I?” you asked, stepping forward, hoping he’d say yes, “I want to explain,” you added

Steve nodded and let you pass, he gave you directions to Bucky’s room and you followed them.

Your nerves increase with every step you take towards Bucky's room. When you arrived, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart, before knocking on the door.

"Come in," Bucky's voice sounded tired, like he'd been asleep. You pushed the door open, hesitantly stepping inside. Bucky was sitting up in his bed, his eyes widening when he saw you. "Lia?" he asked, sounding confused.

"I wanted to talk to you," you said, taking a step further into the room, "About-"

"About why you're scared of me? I understand," he said cutting you off, you could hear the pain in his voice. "I was the Winter Soldier, I did a lot of things..."

"I did a lot of things too, Bucky," you said, stepping closer, "That's not it," you shook your head, "I'm scared because of what I might do to you,"

"You?" Bucky asked, surprise coloring his voice. "What could you possibly do to me?"

"Did you see what I did to Wanda?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, as you gestured vaguely to your chest, "I dragged up quite possibly the most painful memory she has,"

"But that was an accident, we all saw it," Bucky said, trying to reassure you. But he didn't get it.

"Exactly, it was an accident. One that I can't control and I don't want to do the same with you," you explained, taking another step closer to the bed. Bucky looked at you for a long moment, confusion still written all over his face. "I don't want to hurt you, Bucky. I don't want to drag up your past, I don't want to make you remember things you'd rather forget," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. "I understand that, Lia. And I appreciate it. But I trust you. I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me on purpose," Bucky said, reaching out to take your hand in his but you moved away.

You swallowed hard, "I can't," you said, feeling tears begin to sting your eyes, "I can't risk it." With that, you turned on your heels, nearly running from the room. You didn't want to see the look on his face, you didn't want to see the understanding or the hurt, you just wanted to get away.

As you hurried to where Steve was waiting, you wiped the tears from your face, hoping he hadn't noticed. "I'm sorry," you mumbled.

"Hey kid," you jumped when you heard another voice, mentally kicking yourself that you hadn't noticed someone else in the room with you, "Capsicle here tells me that you are afraid of touching people because of your powers," you turned to look at the new voice, Tony.

You nodded slowly, "Yeah, I am. I can't control them, and I don't want to hurt anyone."

"Well, what if I told you I could develop a device that would stop you from using your powers?" Tony asked, leaning against the wall casually. You raised an eyebrow.

"You mean, I could be normal?" you asked, hope sparking in your chest.

"Well, you would still have your powers but the hope is that the device would stop you from using them." Tony paused, seeming to consider his words carefully, "But technically, yes, with the device on, you will be somewhat normal,"

You nodded, "Would you do it?"

"I suppose I could," Tony shrugged.

"Stark," Steve warned, frowning at the genius.

"Relax, Capsicle," Tony said, glancing over at Steve with a small smile. "There's a catch,"

You furrowed your brows, "What kind of catch?"

"I want to throw a party to celebrate our new Avenger," Tony grinned. "You're going to be the center of attention, kid."

"Tony, I don't think that's a good idea," Steve said but Tony waved him off.

"Don't worry, Cap, she'll have the device by then," Tony winked, "It'll be a great party, trust me."

You didn't know if you fully trusted him or not, but the idea of having some kind of control over your powers was too tempting to resist. You nodded slowly, "Okay."

Steve sighed heavily, "All right, you've got yourself a deal, Stark. But let's keep it low-key."

"You got it, Cap, low-key," Tony said with a smirk.

He walked away, already lost in thought about the party he was going to throw. You turned back to Steve, "Why do I get the feeling that Tony doesn't know the meaning of low-key?"

Steve shrugged, "Because he doesn't. But don't worry, it's not mandatory,"

"I feel that a party held to welcome me, the new Avenger, requires me to be there," you told Steve with a small smile.

Steve chuckled, "Well, I guess you can't say no," he said, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, "You ready to start training?"

You took a deep breath and nodded. "I'll do my best," you said with determination.

The room was set up with targets for you to shoot, with various weapons laid out on a table beside them. You eyed them nervously, not sure if you were ready for this. Steve noticed your apprehension and smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry," he said, "We'll start with the basics and work our way up. You'll be an expert marksman in no time." He handed you a gun showed you how to load it, "Always be sure to point the gun in a safe direction and keep your finger off the trigger until you're ready to shoot," he instructed. You looked at him with your eyes raised, Steve laughed seemingly knowing what you were thinking, "I know common sense, just had to be sure,"

"Yeah, not so common," you nodded, taking the gun carefully and loading it. Steve stood a few feet away, watching you as you aimed at the target. "Okay, I'm ready," you said, taking a deep breath. With a loud pop, a bullseye appeared on the target.

"Not bad," you heard Steve say from nearby. You smiled, feeling more confident already.

You continued to practice with the gun, quickly becoming more comfortable with it. You tried out various weapons and even started to show off a bit, much to Steve's amusement. He encouraged you to keep up the good work, promising that with enough practice, you'd be able to handle anything that came your way.

"I suppose it's like riding a horse, not something you forget," you mused, trying to steady your aim as you took aim at the target. With a steady breath, you pulled the trigger, the recoil almost negligible in your hands. Another bullseye. You scoffed and shook your head.

"What?" Steve asked, walking up beside you.

"I guess that's what most girls my age would know more about. But me, I know how to load and shoot a gun," you spoke, sadness filling your tone as you thought about the childhood you were robbed of. "I guess it's just something you learn when you have to defend yourself." You took a deep breath and looked at Steve, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring down the mood."

Steve gave you a small smile and stepped towards you, picking up a gun and loading it, "When I was your age, I was determined to join the army and fight for my country. When Bucky was drafted I was more determined than ever. Bucky and I had our childhood, I'm sorry you never got to have yours. But you have us now, and we'll make sure you're safe and protected. You're one of us now. We're family"

You looked up at him, your eyes filling with tears. He reached out and gently wiped them away with his thumb. "Don't cry, kiddo. You're going to be just fine. And if anyone ever tries to hurt you, they'll have to go through me first."

"Is this what having a big brother feels like?" you asked, sniffling.

Steve smiled and pulled you into a tight hug, rubbing your back soothingly. "Yeah, kiddo. That's exactly what it feels like." You returned the hug, feeling a sense of belonging and security that you hadn't experienced in years. "Now," he said, releasing you, "let's keep training. You're gonna need to be in top shape if you're going to be an Avenger."

"Shouldn't be too hard to keep up with a bunch of old farts," you smirked, wiping the last of your tears away.

The hours passed by quickly as you continued to practice with Steve. He taught you how to disarm traps, throw knives, and even use some basic martial arts. As you trained, you found yourself becoming stronger and more confident and more comfortable. You were still wary about your powers and accidentally hurting Steve, either physically or mentally but you could feel yourself relaxing around him.

"You had enough for today?" Steve asked as he leaned against the wall, watching you as you collapsed dramatically on the mat. You giggled, feeling the familiar burn in your muscles. "I know it's a lot to take in, but you're doing great."

"I think I'm gonna lie here for a bit. Maybe an hour," you panted, looking up at the ceiling.

"What was that you were saying about keeping up with a bunch of old farts?" Steve asked, looking down at you. You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help feeling a small smile creep onto your face, "I think you'd feel more comfortable on the couch," Steve said, as a new set of footprints began to echo through the space. You were too tired to lift your head off the floor to see who it was.

"Hey punk," a familiar gruff voice called. You squinted one eye open, peering up at the man towering over you, "Steve, what did you do to her?" Bucky asked, looking down at you.

You smiled weakly, "Hi Bucky," you managed to say before closing your eyes again "I'm just a bit tired, that's all," you mumbled, "I'm sorry about earlier, Bucky, I just don't want to hurt you,"

"She called us old farts," Steve told him, ruffling your hair. You laughed weakly. "Hey," Bucky protested, "I'm not that old."

"You're like over 100," you said, sitting up slowly and wincing as your sore muscles protested. Bucky laughed, reaching down to help you up with his metal arm. He'd rather not touch you with something that caused many deaths but he thought you'd be more comfortable touching the hand that wouldn't cause your powers to go haywire.

"Yet you're the one on the floor with aching bones," Bucky pointed out with a smirk.

"Was all that payback for calling you an old fart?" you asked Steve, grinning as you stood up.

Steve chuckled, "Maybe a little."

You stretched your arms above your head, feeling the familiar pop in your shoulders, "So, what do we do now?" you asked, glancing between the two super soldiers.

"It's movie night tonight, you feel like joining us?" Steve asked, looking down at you, "Or are you too tired? Do you need an early night?"

You scoffed, "Sounds like fun, what are we watching?" You asked

"I don't know, whose turn is it to choose?" Steve asked, glancing over at Bucky.

"Stark's, I think or maybe Parker's," Bucky replied, rolling his eyes. "So, either Star Wars or Harry Potter. Again." You snickered,

"Star Wars?" you asked, "And who is Harry Potter?"

"You know what? Maybe it should be your turn," Steve suggested, you shook your head, you wouldn't even know where to begin. Movies and music weren't exactly on your to-do list the past 10 years.

"I wouldn't know," you said, shrugging. "I don't know anything about movies,"

"Ok, we'll choose," Steve told you, giving you a moment to think. You nodded.

"Okay, well, I'm going to have a shower and get changed and I'll see you later," you told them, heading toward the door. "Think of something good to watch. This is my first movie after all," you called back over your shoulder.

You headed back to your room to shower and change. The warm water flowed over your body, washing away the sweat and grime from your training session. You closed your eyes, enjoying the sensation of the water on your skin. As you washed your hair, you began to feel a little excited and nervous about the movie night. Excited because you'd never seen a movie before, at least not that you remember. And nervous because you hadn't really spent a lot of time with all the Avengers. You wondered what movie they ended up picking. If they have chosen one yet.

As you stepped out of the shower, you wrapped a towel around your body and looked in the mirror. "You can do this," you told your reflection. It's just a movie with the team. With your housemates and a step closer to being normal...

Taglist: @mrsevans90 @harrysluvv @vicmc624

[shivunin]

In Confidence

( Arianwen Tabris/Zevran Arainai | 2,392 Words | AO3 Link | CW: Fantasy racism, past parent death, emotional hurt/comfort)

“Where are you taking me?” Zevran asked, keeping pace with his Warden as they scaled the side of a building in the alienage. It was not a difficult task, though the state of the scaffolding they were climbing did give him pause. 

“You’ll see,” she told him, grunting slightly when she caught the board over her head and pulled herself up. 

Only fifteen feet separated them from the top—or so he hoped. Meeting her family had been trial enough on its own. He had not anticipated this sort of exertion afterward or he would have eaten far less at her father’s table. 

“Almost there,” she added, and there was the faintest note of an apology tucked beneath her usual impassive tone. If he had not known her so well, Zevran might not have heard it at all. 

“I am in no particular hurry,” he told her, and she stopped climbing to cast him a skeptical look. 

“Well,” Zevran amended, glancing below. “I must admit this is not how I thought we would be spending our evening.” 

Below, the vhenadahl swayed in the evening air off the Drakon River. People stood in clusters, their voices ringing off the stone, and food peddlers had staked out rival ends of the courtyard. It surprised him even now to see the condition of the alienage; he supposed that it explained something of his Arianwen that she had grown up in such a place. And yet—these people had built something here, among the ruins. He could see the bright hair of Tabris’s cousin bob through the crowd, pausing near one cluster of people and speaking for a time. They opened to her reluctantly, but even from this distance Zevran could see some of them begin to nod. Perhaps they would yet rebuild their community, even after what the slavers had done to them. 

“Are you coming?” Arianwen called down, and he realized that she’d made her way to the top while he’d looked below. Zevran climbed instead of answering, and reached for her hand at the top when she offered it. 

“We used to play here,” she told him, bracing to pull him over the edge and onto a wooden platform. “Shianni and I. Before and after it burned. It was our secret place, just the two of us. Poor Soris was never one for heights. He’d wait until he heard us climb down and then we’d all wander together. When his parents still lived, he’d grown up in the building next door. I used to hear his mother singing while she made dinner, back when I used to wander the streets looking for strays.”

“Ah—I see,” Zevran said, glancing around. 

The two of them stood in the burned shell of a house three stories from the ground. He had thought that they’d reached a platform at the top of the scaffolding, but he saw now that he’d been wrong. They stood on all that was left of a wooden floor, the edges blackened and crumbled away. Arianwen stood to the empty doorway, patting the wall beside it fondly. There was little else to see here—only the remnants of a bed, piles of fabric in the corners of the room that might once have been blankets or clothing, holes in the floor where the structure below had given way. He did not struggle to imagine two young girls finding this place out of curiosity, for he had done much the same when he’d been a boy. 

“Ready?” she asked while he was still considering this. She vanished through the darkness of the doorway before he could answer, so Zevran had little choice but to follow her into the hallway beyond. 

“How did this place burn?” Zevran asked, ducking a fallen beam and testing the floor before he went on down the hall. 

“Humans,” Wen said, and her face was shadowed when she glanced back at him. “It burned the night Soris’s parents died.”

There was a heavy silence then. She stopped long enough for him to catch up and caught his hand in hers. This was still new—Arianwen reaching for him, for comfort. Zevran did not know quite what to make of it yet. 

“She tried to escape the building after they set it aflame. One of them kicked her back inside. The man who—oh, nevermind. You don’t need the details,” she took a sharp breath, her hand squeezing Zevran’s, and went on down the dark hall. “A few days later, my ma was gone all night long. They found his body washed up on the river, cut to ribbons and bloodless. I didn’t realize until far later what that meant.”

“She was a fighter, your mother?” Zevran asked, for it seemed the safer topic of conversation. Tabris dropped his hand to climb under more debris. 

“She taught me everything I know,” she sighed, “I tried to forget it after she died. My body remembered for me. I’m grateful to it. But—here. Look.” 

They’d found the end of the hallway at last. Arianwen pushed the door open and revealed—

A closet. 

Zevran looked at her, brows arched high in question. To his surprise, she laughed. That was new, too—hearing her laugh when they weren’t in the heat of battle. It was a tired laugh, but that mattered very little in the run of things. 

“Watch,” she said, and turned the coat hook on the back wall. The wall fell away at the pressure of her hand, swinging open into the room beyond. 

“However did you find this?” Zevran asked, stepping into the room behind her. This room was lit by the lone window on the far wall, through which moonlight poured. In the cool light, he could see her clearly enough to read her face. Wistful—yes. She seemed wistful. 

“You know—I don’t remember,” she said after a moment. “I don’t know which one of us opened the door, or even when it happened. I only remember it being our place, Shianni’s and mine. Here.”

She lit a candle and held it up to the wall. Messy colors snaked up the crumbling plaster, handprints followed by rough drawings and holes in a familiar shape. 

“Throwing knives?” he asked, making his way to her side. Arianwen nodded silently, her lips parting and pressing tightly together again. 

Zevran knew that look. She was fighting some battle with herself, weighing what she ought to say to him. They would both be better served if he gave her space. 

“May I…?” he asked, gesturing to the room at large. Tabris nodded again, stepping closer to the marks on the wall, and Zevran slipped away. 

The corners held stacks of books here and there, all adventures set in distant lands or histories of Ferelden. He found only two that he supposed must have belonged to his Warden: a book about animal physiology and one about the care and keeping of various household pets. Zevran smiled at the sight of them, leaving a streak in the dust covering each volume, and moved on. 

Most of the wooden walls bore the marks of her blades. Many of the marks had been thrown wide from their fingerpainted targets. He could follow the progress of her skill by those holes, could trace the time spent in this room by the neatness of the circles they fell within. 

When he had met the Wardens on the road all those months ago, he had met a blade of a woman. She was hard and quick and sharp, flashing through the crowd of Crows like light through a fast-running river. There had been nothing of fear or weakness in her. She had seemed—impervious, somehow. As if nothing in the world could touch her, as if she had sprung into existence precisely as he saw her in that moment. 

Zevran knew better now, of course. He had seen her at her most vulnerable in the mornings when she slept, had watched her uncertainty upon seeing her father again. Two days ago, she had wept over Zevran’s body when she’d thought him dead by Taliesen’s hand. Today, standing in the dusty remnants of her childhood, he knew her better than he might have thought possible even a month ago.

Even so—it was surprising and endearing, somehow, to know that she had not leapt from her mother with blades in hand. Once, many years ago, she had learned her craft just as he had. Maker’s teeth, but sometimes Zevran wished they had known each other then, before the softness had been carved from them both. Who had she been? Who might he have been, in that other life that neither of them would ever live? 

“Here—this is what I actually meant to show you,” Arianwen said. 

Zevran blinked and found her beside him, though he had not heard her approach. She slipped her hand into his, lacing their fingers together, and pulled him with her to another door. When she opened it to the night beyond, cool air brushed over his cheeks. They had only been in the room for ten or fifteen minutes, hardly long enough to notice how still the air was. Even so, it was a relief to step into a fresher breeze.

“You can sit,” she told him, but leaned forward against a flimsy railing. 

They’d stepped out onto a narrow balcony of sorts. A broken pulley hung from the wall to their left and an alleyway stretched into the darkness of the alienage beneath them. It was wide enough for two chairs and little else, though the gleam of glass bottles beneath them suggested what this space had been used for most recently. 

“This was—” she sighed, and one fist thudded lightly against the wood of the railing. “I was last here on the night before my…before the wedding.”

Arianwen leaned forward until her shoulders hunched.  Her hands were joined into one fist, knuckles pale against the brown of her skin. Zevran breathed sweet night air and watched her. It was still difficult—to wait, to allow her to unspool whatever she’d been fighting. It would be easier to make some joke. Already, one stood waiting on his tongue. But—no. 

No, he found he rather wanted to know what she’d brought him here to say.

“Shianni was too drunk to climb down. I was too scared to try on my own. We dozed off here and dragged ourselves back home at dawn. I remember thinking that it would be the last time I ever came up here. I knew…I knew I would never want to share this place with a stranger. How could I?” 

Zevran nudged one of the chairs aside, wincing when he heard the bottles beneath tipping against each other. He found a spot beside her at the rail and rested his arms against it. Arianwen did not look at him.

“The night my mother died, I was here. I came home late because I’d argued with my father and I knew he would worry if I was out for too long. I was…punishing him. By the time I came back, she was already gone.”

A breeze brushed small, loose hairs over her forehead. Tabris reached up and pushed them back, frowning slightly. Zevran edged closer and leaned his shoulder against hers. After a moment, she bent to lean her head against his shoulder. 

“I don’t blame myself. It wasn’t my fault. This isn’t about that. This is—ugh.”

Zevran wrapped an arm around her waist, thinking hard, but there was little he could say. He had come to trust her slowly, had given himself over one careful piece at a time before he’d realized that he was doing so. It did not often pain him to tell her the hard things now. For her part, Arianwen had opened her arms to him readily enough once she’d begun to care, but it had taken longer to offer pieces of her heart to him in turn. Even now, he could feel her cutting them free for his perusal. 

“There is nothing that you must tell me. Yes?” he said, resting his shoulder against hers. “It can wait. A different night, some other place.” 

“No,” she said sharply. “I want to say—I’m glad you’re here. You should be here. I love this place and I hate this place and I miss it all the time. It was my secret, but now it’s yours, too. And that’s all.” 

Her eyes flicked up and away again, focusing on the dark alley below. 

“I’m glad you’re here, Zev,” she repeated quietly. “That’s all.” 

What could he say to this? Wen could be harsh and difficult and wore the intensity of her feelings like armor. Even so—she had brought him to this, the most vulnerable of places, the tenderest of wounds. She had brought him here and no other. 

Zevran swallowed around the thickness in his throat and nudged her hip with his. She looked up at him, the moonlight snared in her eyes, and what could he say? 

“Do you suppose any of these bottles still have wine in them? Some wine, a fine whiskey, perhaps?” 

Arianwen snorted, shoulders loosening slightly. 

“None that I’d chance drinking,” she said, but tugged a slim, dented flask from her pocket. “Here—I’ll share. But only because you asked.”

“You have my most sincere thanks, dearest Warden,” Zevran told her, voice smooth and dripping with charm. She snorted again, tapping his chest with the flask, and he took it. It was warm, held tight against her side all this time. He treasured the feeling of it as he unscrewed the cap. 

When they walked back to Eamon’s estate later, all but alone on the street, he sought better words. It was easier when she wasn’t watching him. It was easier when they were away from the place that had hurt and raised her. 

“I am glad I am here, too, mi vida,” he told her, watching the ragged road ahead. “Thank you.” 

Her hand slipped into his, palm warm and rough. Zevran wondered if she knew that the words were meant for more than just tonight. He wondered if she understood how far back the sentiment could stretch, that he was grateful for more than a secret shared and glad for his continued existence in a broader sense than glad could encompass. 

“Thank you,” she echoed quietly, and held on tight.

(For Zevwarden Week Day 2: Secrets, Kept and Told. Thanks @zevraholics for organizing this!)

[omg-i-think-i-like-you]

What about Eddie still dying, but instead of becoming a trapped soul in the Upside Down, or worse, becoming Vecna's soldier and being turned against his friends, he becomes like the angel of between worlds. The one who observes the living, and walks them in their last way towards their next destination?

What about Steve feeling so so guilty that Eddie died, knowing deep inside it should've been him, being sure it's his fault because he should've actually stopped Eddie himself, and not just told him not to be a hero. He feels like he missed his opportunity for real love, because without noticing, within just a few days, he fell completely in love with the hyper, curly metalhead. He reflects on every second they had together, wishing he had said something, thinking that maybe, if he did, Eddie would've felt like he had a reason to stay?

Eddie sees all that. Sees Steve cry himself to sleep, sees him fading away, losing his smile, becoming a shell of himself. He aches, and he hates it. He hates being stuck in between. He hates that he can't move forward. He hates he has to see what he left behind. He sees them all, Wayne, who overworks and sleeps in the factory, not wanting to go back to the Eddie-less polished government trailer. Dustin, who doesn't remove his Hellfire Club shirt, and sleeps with the light on in case it starts flickering. His band mates, who in the beginning try to keep practicing in Eddie's memory, but quickly give up and grow apart, making Corroded Coffin only a distant memory of better times. He sees them all and he hates it so much. He tried, he tried to move forward, every time he walked a new soul through the gates of the unreachable he tried to pass through with them, but couldn't. He got stuck, physically unable to move forward. Some of them pulled him, but it was no use. He was stuck, and was destined to be stuck forever.

He watches his loved ones get ready for battle, preparing to destroy Vecna once and for all. He sees them practice and plan, he sees the adults joining in. He sees Wayne gearing up, his eyes blazing. He sees the kids, who have grown, filled with anger and revenge, and he sees Steve. His sweet Steve, who only physically still looks like himself, driving everyone around, buying things, helping, carrying, empty.

Eddie watches them fight monsters, Steve swinging his bat and killing one after another, he watches robin and Nancy shooting everything that moves, he sees the kids throwing grenades and screaming in rage, he sees El blowing up living things. He looks for Steve again, waiting to see him surrounded by flying body parts, but he cannot find him. He looks, scanning the battlefield. He sees them all, fighting with everything they have, but Steve isn't there. And then he hears it.

"Eddie..?" the sweet voice whispers behind him. Eddie freezes in place, feeling the non-existing ground drop below his feet. He doesn't dare to turn around. He doesn't want to believe it's real.

"Eddie? is that you?" the voice is getting closer to him, and then he feels a soft hand on his shoulder, and collapses.

Steve is hovering above him, and then sits down, holding his face, "Are you okay? Where are we?"

"Oh, Steve..." Eddie hugs him tight, holding him, not letting go. Not again.

"What is happening? How..? I missed you..." He sobs into Eddie's shoulder now, starting to get scared.

"Missed you too..." Eddie hugs him even tighter, almost breaking his ribs, not that it matters now. Nothing matters now.

"Eddie," Steve wiggles out of Eddie's hands, "Am I... Dead?"

Eddie just looks at him, and then gets up, pulling Steve with him, and shows him what he was just watching. They both see their friends, their family, fight for their lives, and Steve is tearing up.

"How..?" he asks Eddie quietly, "How did I..?"

Eddie strokes his cheek, wiping away the tears, "I don't know... I didn't see it happen..."

Steve hugs Eddie now, his back facing the unimaginable sights, "Maybe it's for the best..."

Eddie caresses Steve's back, slowly and softly, not letting him escape his arms. He knows their time is almost up, but he doesn't want to scare Steve even more, so he just stands there with him, holding him, trying to make up for all the time they lost.

Eddie feels when Steve is ready to go. It's like a sting in his stomach, or more like a punch, and it makes him feel sick.

"Stevie," he forces himself to say, "It's time."

Steve looks up, "Time for what?"

Eddie doesn't answer. He untangles their hug, and takes Steve's hand, walking him towards the manifesting gate. Steve follows, but stops before he passes.

"Can't I stay here with you?" He asks.

Eddie smiles in agony, "No. I wish, but no. We both have different purposes. I need to be here, and you need to go there, move on," He squeezes Steve's hand, "It's okay, Stevie, you can go now."

"Come with me then." Steve insists, holding Eddie's hand tightly.

Eddie almost cries. He wished Steve would just go, just leave him here. He can't take saying goodbye to him again. "Can't..." He says in a raspy whisper.

"Try." Steve takes a step forward, pulling Eddie behind him, Eddie pulls him back.

"Steve, I can't. I tried a million times. I can't pass on, it's impossible for me. I belong here." He sobs, really hoping Steve would make it easier to say goodbye.

"Show me."

Eddie nods, and lets Steve take him into the gate, Steve smiles, and Eddie knows that smile. They all smile like that, the bliss of being freed from the physical world. Seeing Steve this happy, this relieved, makes him feel full. Suddenly he isn't so sad about letting Steve go, knowing he can finally rest. He watches Steve filling up with excitement, and as it grows, Eddie is getting ready for the block he is so familiar with, the block that stopped him from moving forward so many times before, but it doesn't come. Steve is still holding his hand, still walking forward. Eddie looks around, absorbing the new and unfamiliar view and then he realizes,

He is on the other side.

[fountainpenguin]

"Your love was handmade for somebody like me..."

---

Today is not my usual 'fic update day, but I wrote a dorky one-shot about my OTP and honestly did not want to sit on it </3

"Your family is doing okay"

Read on AO3

Exposition Guy came here for family photos but in my headcanon he has three invisible brothers, idk what to tell you.

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

---

Is it… weird to be so, so thankful that you live in a city crawling with supervillains? Probably. But Miah Wall wasn’t meant for a slow-moving life in a slow-moving town. She’ll take a storm of mashed veggies or a cockroach invasion on the bus every other day - not even hesitating! - as long as she still gets to order cookies, cupcakes, and snazzy indie records at the shops along the street.

It is cruel, cruel irony, however, that Miah Wall - who is not built for dull and dreary things - must cram herself into the flabby seat behind the reception desk every afternoon and suffer through her pre-med homework without cookies, cupcakes, and snazzy indie music. The fact that she can see both a floral boutique and a rolled ice cream shop through the photo studio window does not make her dread her empty pockets any less.

I need a new internship… If I’m not getting paid to sit here, can it at least be for something relevant to my nursing career?

Now, Miah Wall is also an incredibly gracious individual who has certainly not forgotten how loving and kind her adoptive mother is for letting her live at home for free during her studies instead of shelling out the cash for a university dorm. It’s just, well… Greeting the occasional customer with a plastic smile and spouting white tales about how they’re “Actually early” and that Mrs. Ford will be “Just one moment” isn’t going to pay for super cute lattes. Or the new state award books. Or a sugar glider.

But a nursing degree pays for a sugar glider.

Mine are gonna be ‘sour gliders’ when I’ve spoiled them rotten, she tells herself in silence, and flips three pages forward in her textbook.

The fun thing about supervillains, though, is that they tend to target those high-profile money-making places like the jewelry store, the bank, the real estate office, and the auto-shop. Every now and then you hear about a guy whose schtick doesn't slot neatly into one of those categories. The Raccoon Wrangler, for example, prefers hanging around the city dump, and the Beetle Kid (accompanied by his six-legged friends) actually does a great job of eliminating random waste after storms.

But no one ever targets her adoptive mother’s little photography studio. It’s not even along a main road. Once you run a business in Fair City long enough, you realize that the foot traffic tends to be heavier outside the downtown area where villains like to strike… and if you adapt appropriately, you too can succeed at life by running an adorable place across from the flower shop!

Supervillains do not rob photo studios. What’s there to take? Some old pics of someone else’s kids? Miah’s helped Mrs. Ford with a couple photoshoots for supervillains in the past (once or twice even witnessing a secret identity reveal in the process). Photography, like costume tailoring, is one of those peculiar businesses that ne’er-do-wells seem to value as much as people on the straight and narrow do.

She knows this.

She has faith in this.

But she almost slams the panic button when a big, sturdy guy pushes himself - backwards - through the glass door. Alone. Jerking his shoulders funny as though someone on the sidewalk has his wrists and is trying to pull him back into the hazy, humid afternoon. Miah’s purple pen falls away from her teeth and clicks against the desk.

What’s he doing here? The last appointment of the day is for a family.

Oh boy.

The ragged, dust-covered, dirt-stained guy at the door looks like he can’t be more than 19 or 20. She can only see a portion of his profile, but that seems right. Something about the dark green sweatshirt and those little rectangle glasses seems familiar… but she can’t nail down the reason why. Maybe she knows him from school? She’s 21. Maybe they shared a generals class last year?

I don’t get the impression he’s into medical science.

Since he’s trying to force his way into the studio backwards, Miah sees the ponytail before any of his face. It’s coming loose, his scrunchie far too low in his hair. It’s probably been hours since he adjusted it. Bouncing bits of frizz make multiple attempts to escape his scalp just in the time it takes him to wiggle his way inside. He’s holding a lot of leashes for someone who just walked into the studio alone. At least three of them. Maybe four, but one of them is rainbow so it’s difficult to separate it from the others. All three leashes are fighting back against his grip, and they look like they’re winning.

Okay. Forget what he’s doing HERE… I can’t tell what he’s doing, period.

He’s… struggling with the empty leashes? He must be. The pull against him is too strong to be the air conditioner. She can’t hear anything outside. No shouting. Maybe it’s the wind? Or someone with telekinesis powers? Miah strains her eyes against the dim light level, then feels stupid for it. Squinting doesn’t reveal anything at the leashes’ other ends.

“Hi?” she offers, rising from her chair. She keeps her forefinger under the desk, right over the button that will send out the Peppermint Kid rescue alarm, but… she’s starting to think she might not even need it. What is this guy doing?

He seems to recognize the absurdity of the situation at the same time she does, because he turns around at that moment. Miah jolts and almost hits the panic button after all. Okay- where does she know him from? His facial hair is overgrown, but uneven in awkward patches. His baggy, half-lidded eyes make it clear from the start that he didn’t come here to play games. Which, you know… makes sense. This is a photo studio. 

Her finger rests against the panic button, feeling out the curves. The plastic-y-ness of it feels sticky and hot, but the metal around it is icier than the crisp wind has been all week. The guy stares at her with the face of someone who just got the back of his ankle run into by a shopping cart and found out his insurance won’t cover it.

Then he tells her, point blank, “I’m here for a family photoshoot with three kids who are invisible.”

“OH!” Miah snaps straight up, grabbing for her purple pen. “You’re the Nightmare King’s son! Or…” She glances at the three leashes dangling from his hand. All three are tugging in different directions. Shoes are squeaking. “… sons, rather. I just saw him in the paper for robbing city hall. Well, I mean, I didn’t see him…”

[Cnt'd on AO3 - Link at top]

[vestigialpersonality]

6 Songs - Keres

Doing separate pre- and post- tadpole for The Inevitable since his life was drastically redefined with the brain scrambling, long-term disabilities, and, well, everything. Plus some people only read only one side of the action or the other.

Meet The Inevitable (pre-tadpole), also known as Keres, Chance, Nuisance, Thomas, Sterling, Crane, Riot, Lily.....the list goes on. Chance is the closest thing he has to a name, the only one he ever picked for himself that wasn't just another mask. He is a man of many faces and is sub-optimally dual classing as a Cleric/Bard (he got good rolls, screw point-buy). I associate him with depressing jrock. I'm making an active effort to pick a variety and not just link the entire Kokyu album by Lily Chou-Chou despite the fact that it, specifically, is what helped me define him as a character.

picrew here

Other Song Selections: Post-Tadpole and Garrett

1) An event that defines your character's past

自殺願望 (Suicidal Desire) by Dué le Quartz

If our fleeting time together withers away I hope it turns into a flower that keeps giving you love. If my body could rise up and become a beautiful rain and carry the gentleness left behind all the way to you.

Leaving home to become something new, with nothing but ashes in his wake.

2) How your character sees themselves

記憶 (Memory) by See-Saw

The memory pooling into the empty shell of my body is shaping and filling me up a little at a time That is the way humans take shape by stashing the feelings they don't want to forget in their hearts

A perpetual inability to let go and move forward. His family, his friends, every single life he's taken, are marked permanently on his skin so he cannot escape them.

3) How others view them

Beast of Blood by Malice Mizer

Along with the scream from the death throes Sharp claws are shining brighter Dually obscene breaths continues And rips apart the silence of the night

This is more of an encapsulation of his urban legend that has circulated through Baldur's Gate since the late 1470s than a perception of him specifically.

4) Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic)

青道 (Blue Road) by STANCE PUNKS

It's up to the individual to stop or go The weak-hearted will collapse there Throwing away all shame We continue to walk this path

Hopeful, but also violent and off-key. A risk to everyone around him. The sentiments definitely evolve greatly over time, but I wanted to give him a good moment in this list instead of just depression. I specifically picked the live version because the extra scratchy vocals and the mosh pit view fit better than the studio recording. The relationship started as Experiment in Love by Lily Chou-Chou and ended as The Final by Dir en Grey. I'll give you three guesses as to who this is about and the first two don't count.

5) A major fight scene Again, interpreting this as his personal boss fight music.

翼をください(Give Me Wings) from the All About Lily Chou-Chou OST

What I dreamed of when I was a kid. I still have the same dream in my heart.

I realized only while trying to find this link that Evangelion apparently did this in 2.0. Oops. But they used a piano arrangement instead of acapella.

6) End credits song

エーテル (Ether) by Lily Chou-Chou

I was trapped without being able to escape If my cracked, sleeping heart is connected The Ether will revive Revive

This is unequivocally the end of his story, the last days of the first half of his life. It's been his final song since the day I started drafting any pre-tadpole fics.

[saintsir4n]

BONUS CHAPTER

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF WAR, DEATH AND PTSD

1918

THOMAS Shelby's breath got caught in his throat when he saw... them. Despite his soul being split between life and death, his heart remained in Small Heath, in the clutches of two people who looked at him like he wasn't the same man. He wasn't, he and the rest of the Birmingham Riffles were already dead, and seeing his daughter pull away from Eden's grasp and run between the crowds of people and her uncles who were wrapped up in the hugs from the family, he dropped his duffle bag as soon as she threw her arms around him, he finally caught his breath.

"Daddy!" she cried into the crook of his neck. She recognised him despite the sombre look in his eyes, "It's you, from the pictures and stories."

He didn't let go of the little girl, feeling the liveliness and joy radiating off of her, warming his undead heart. Her croaky voice brought tears to his eyes. Pulling away, her arms never moved from his neck, but her legs settled around his waist.

"'Ello," he uttered in awe.

Inara's smile grew wider by the second, taking in his hollow cheeks, raven hair and pale blue eyes that mirrored hers. Tommy couldn't believe it, no description from any letter did his daughter justice, she was something else, she was the very pull he needed to keep fighting in France. He didn't think he would be able to love someone more than Eden and here she was, half him, half her.

The beauty marks dotted around her innocent face were what got him, just like my Edie, my pretty girl.

He would protect her with his life and that vow he would never break.

"'Ello Tommy," Eden reached him after being almost knocked over by John and Arthur. Jeremiah made sure to thank her for the role she played in his son's life while he was away. The three men spent their time off to the side, greeting the rest of the family, doting over the new additions and pointing out the differences they could all see.

"Mummy it's Daddy," Inara squealed, laughing at the two, wondering why they were just staring at each other, shell-shocked and stunned beyond belief.

All the details they tried to take in before they parted all those years back, had changed ever so slightly, they were the same, and they were different. Eden appeared far more vigilant and attentive, partially due to the little girl in his arms, she had to change. Her hair; in its natural state, settled above her neck, whilst his was shaven around the sides, just like she'd last seen.

But it was the eyes, all in the eyes, they never lied.

She could see that he wasn't there, her Tommy was trapped, part of him died back in those trenches if not all. Trapped between life and death. Some made it back, others didn't, but those who survived didn't really, part of them still entangled by the mud and the patting of the shovels.

He could see that his Eden morphed into someone else, far less reactive and impulsive.

They both simultaneously pulled out their lucky charms, his horseshoe and her necklace, it brought a crooked smile to his face but failed to meet his empty eyes. There were times in the mud, the bullets and miles of death when he thought his luck would run out, his time was finished and life seconds from ending, where Eden would fade from his memory, but she was also stuck in his mind, pulling him out of the hole he dug himself. Each time he touched the horseshoe, he thought of his little girl, and she was enough, the motivation she gave him was enough, enough to survive. The necklace draped around her neck has pushed her to prevail, through the lonely nights, sleepless ones, the ones where she cried herself to sleep thinking of all she lost.

The rings they wore bound them for life, but what life would they live now? The only place to go was up.

"I promised we'd meet again, didn't I?" Was the first thing he uttered to his fiancé.

You didn't come back, not really. He knew what she wanted to say, but instead, she rushed over, placing a hand on his face, Inara watched their interaction with an innocent smile.

"You did," Eden finally smiled.

Tommy's lips connected with Eden's, arms wrapping around her waist and it was like everything was slowly coming back together, like two missing puzzle pieces. Neither had looked at another soul since they'd parted, sure they were French girls who threw themselves at him, just like there were men who glanced Eden's way, but they paid no mind to the attention, just fixated on the future flashing through their minds and ongoing battles they were facing.

"My girls," he muttered against her lips.

"Like my dress daddy?" Inara paid no attention to the kiss, slightly wrapped up in the toy horse in her hands, which caught Tommy's attention, it made him stiffen, knowing who had bought it for his daughter, "Wore it for you Daddy, it's pretty."

"I can see that," he didn't hesitate to respond, trying to be as engaged with his daughter as much as possible.

"Pretty like mummy and me," Eden blushed at her words.

Tommy turned to his fiancé, and his crooked smile, morphed into a grin, "It is, very pretty," Inara stared, hanging onto his every word, wondering what he would say next. That's when he knew he had to be better, protect her from the world around them and the demons that taunted his mind, "I wish you could've met me before the war," he whispered to her, but Eden could hear.

"You're 'ere now," Inara didn't stop beaming as she spoke.

"I am, that I am," he agreed with her then took Eden's hand in his.

It wasn't long before the rest of the family swarmed the trio, chuckling and cheering amongst themselves, shocked by the similarities that the little girl shared with Tommy, just like everyone was stunned by how John's twins were the spitting image of Martha, God rest her soul. More hugs were given, and cries of joy were heard and sad tears were shed, blessings were said, but unfortunately, the soldiers couldn't take much in.

Instead, they couldn't help but think back to the times when smoke meant a cigarette had been lit and not that a bomb had been blown. When balloons popping didn't sound like gunshots, but that was a lifetime ago.

Everything changed, they'd changed and now they'd returned.

The war might've finished back in France, but it was only starting in Small Heath.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

THE END

a/n:

i hope you all enjoyed this short story, i started planning it a couple of months ago. i loved writing about these different characters, especially eden. for some reason i found her to be more challenging to write because she is a very emotional person (and i am one too) but i also tend to write characters that are dissimilar to me to an extent. although you can see in the epilogue and this chapter that the four years did a lot to her and she hardened up, not because she wanted to, but because she had to manage and raise a baby.

even in this final chapter, writing the interaction between inara and tommy was sad in my opinion, we all know how closed off and vacant he became because of the war, even with how he was with charlie, he wasn't much of a dad in the end, (i lowkey blame that on the death of ruby and polly and grace even though i wasn't her biggest fan). i believe if i wrote inara throughout the show, she would see a side to tommy she would grow to hate but also learn to work with. that little girl would be his karma, considering eden was forced to grow up mentally, whilst inara would mimic her past behaviour. tommy loves his girls and vows to protect and love them but also always be loyal to them, so it would be interesting to see.

before anyone asks, i have thought about writing the rest of the show, however, that would take a lot out of me, considering its six seasons worth of planning and truthfully i doubt eden would stay with tommy after the shit he pulls in canon, even the things i'd thought about adding it would possibly break her, so i won't be writing the show, but i have thought of ideas to put on tumblr.

thank you for reading guys and follow my tiktok, tumblr and watch out for any conversation posts on my wall.

- liv

[superloves4]

I still taste the past - Chapter 6

Relationships: Curufin/Finrod, Celegorm/Aredhel (background) Summary: Finrod wanted to see Curufin, get his closure after all they had gone through, end things once and for all. What he gets is a journey through the memory of where they've been and the choice of where they will go. TW: none. A/N: Enjoy!

Masterlist - Also on AO3

Finrod couldn't remember what had made him decide to move into the crown prince residence. Of course after the years in Beleriand he'd grown accustomed to his own space, but he could've easily built something for himself instead of trying to fit into a ghost of a residence.

His parent had been horrified when he'd proposed the idea but he'd been adamant, there was a perfectly functional building not being used and he wouldn't have to make any intense change or spend years on projects as he otherwise would on a new building. He'd even mentioned it was a good political move to place the new crown prince into the crown prince residence and his parents had given him horrified looks at that particular comment. Aman politics were simply different. Finrod didn't know what that felt like anymore, but his aunt had even given her blessing so when he was able to convince them, he went ahead.

He'd regretted it the moment he entered.

Somehow he'd thought that, with the Fëanorian hardly staying in one place for too long, the palace would be no more than a pretty shell, what he found instead were the signs of a well loved residence and all the marks of a happy family. There were drawings on the walls, some of Maglor's sheet music spread around, even some of Huan's fur was still on the furniture, marks from what seemed to be clay everywhere, he was sure then that the rooms would be even worse. If not for the dust he would have thought that the family was about to return any moment now.

Finrod wandered around, trying to see if anything belonged to Celebrimbor in there but ultimately found nothing.

It was too much and not enough and he almost just went back to the palace and asked for leave to build his own place. But he didn't. He built over, he erased the past, hid away the memories, he didn't care. When he was done, Finrod gained his pretty, empty, shell.

Which he now entered in shameful tears, he couldn't believe that after everything they'd been through, after all he'd seen, that Curufin still had the power to hurt him that much. He hadn't even told him all he felt, he'd just stood there letting Curufin say his piece. Back then, he should've listened back then, if there was anything that Curufin had ever been right was that they were too different.

Foolish Ingoldo, he'd call him, foolish he had felt but Curufin had always given him that crooked, secretive smile of his and Ingoldo would falter, whispering promises of forever in the ears of his cruel lover. He could falter no more.

To move on? What did Atarinkë want to move on from? The days lived in light when he'd kept him in shadows? Or the days of darkness when he'd been kept at arms length? It was Finrod's right to move on, it should be him to tell Curufin to leave him alone, it should be him. Foolish Ingoldo.

He still remembered when his parents, oh so kindly, prepared a meeting between him and Amarië after ten years since his return had passed, they had been so hopeful that it could rekindle his and Amarië's relationship, that their previous betrothal could be fulfilled. His parents had always hoped he'd marry Amarië. They had been far too kind not pressing him about it when Amarië had inevitably left the parlor in tears, but he couldn't do this to her, not after Curufin.

Treacherous, beloved, Curufin.

Look at him now, it was his due for the hurt they had caused her. And still his thoughts turned towards Curufin, even the fresh air of the balcony couldn't help him, foolish Ingoldo indeed.

"Ingoldo?"

He groaned, that was not what he needed now.

"I saw the door open, you left the palace so suddenly and Edrahil wouldn't give us where you'd gone, I got worried, I-"

"I'm fine mother," he appreciated his mother's concern but it truly was the worst moment.

He felt a soft hand on his face, gently turning his head to the side where Ëarwen waited to make sure her son was safe, staying behind had it's own forms of fear and now she knew one of her children was not to come back to her, she wanted to protect the ones she had left. And under her gaze, Finrod crumbled.

"I'm sorry, ammë," he hugged her "I thought I was doing the right thing for me."

"What could possibly leave you in this state? What good could there be in it if this is the result?" she pulled away to look into his eyes.

Finrod bit his lip "I-... It's really not, I just-"

"Is this about Turkafinwë and Curufinwë?" she asked and her voice took a dangerous edge "If they did anything to you-"

He shook his head "No, no, it's not that, they didn- " he sighed, unable to lie anymore "Celegorm didn't, it's me, it's not- "

"I don't believe you, why else would you be like this?" she exclaimed holding his face where some tears still fell.

And Finrod wondered, why did he lie? Why did he cling to those old lies? What had Curufin done to deserve his protection? He'd spent years lying, omitting and covering for him, if he wanted to move on then there was nothing Finrod owed him anymore, not his love, not his defense. For the first time he told someone the truth and when he was done he had to rush to get his mother a chair.

"All those years?" she asked in disbelief and crouched by her side, Finrod nodded.

"And they knew?"

"No, no one knew."

Ëarwen shook her head, trying to find her footing again in what she had learned "Is this why you broke your betrothal?"

Finrod flinched before painfully answering with yet another truth "Yes."

Ëarwen shot up suddenly before turning and staring at him, ocean blue against tourmaline, and there was clarity then.

"And you hid it from us... why?"

Finrod looked away, at the vision of Tirion from the balcony, because he couldn't face his mother as he admitted his most shameful truth.

"Because he was mine."

He held on to the banister until his knuckles were white.

"Because I loved him and I wanted to believe there was a way that it could be just us, hidden and safe as the most precious treasure, that we could find our way, that love could be enough."

His mother put her hand on his shoulder, a painful consolation after all these years 

"Yes, that is something I can understand."

Two ages of the world and they hadn't spoken of what had happened in the aftermath of the Flight, but somehow the idea that his parents had problems afterwards had never hit him before, his father had stayed behind no? Shouldn't he or Angrod be more to blame?

She felt his gaze and gave him a strained smile "He still followed even when I told him it was a terrible decision and when he came back, it wasn't for me. Some things are hard to forget."

"But he was mine," she echoed his words and he felt their sincerity "I went looking for him."

Finrod gave her a tired laugh "Alas, all I got was being told to move on."

"Then perhaps it's what you should do," Ëarwen advised eagerly, placing her head on his shoulder "You're free to be with whomever you may choose now."

"You're free, Ingoldo."

[etes-secrecy-post]

Hi, before I explain my post, I want to say something important.

• What you see my blog has become a major overhaul. And despite the changes, I decided that my 2nd account will be now my artwork blog with a secret twist.

⚠️NEW RULE! (W/ BIGGER TEXT!)⚠️

⚠️ SO PLEASE DO NOT SHARE MY 2nd ACCOUNT TO EVERYONE! THIS SECRECY BLOG OF MINE IS FOR CLOSES FRIENDS ONLY!⚠️

• AND FOR MY CLOSES FRIENDS, DON’T REBLOG IT. INSTEAD, JUST COPY MY LINK AND PASTE IT ON YOUR TUMBLR POST! JUST BE SURE THE IMAGE WILL BE REMOVED AND THE ONLY LEFT WAS THE TEXT.

⚠️ SHARING LINKS, LIKE POSTS, REBLOG POSTS, STEALING MY SNAPSHOT PHOTOS/RECORDED VIDEOS/ARTWORKS (a.k.a. ART THIEVES) OR PLAGIARIZING FROM UNKNOWN TUMBLR STRANGERS WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED, RIGHT AWAY!⚠️

😡 WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT EVER LIKED & REBLOG MY SECRET POST! THIS IS FOR MY SECRET FRIENDS ONLY, NOT YOU! 😡

Okay? Capiche? Make sense? Good, now back to the post…↓

#Onthisday: Jun 10th, 2012

Title: Spot AGE-1 Normal

I have a ton of traditional drawings that relate on Cuteness Mecha in Gundam AGE armors without noting the armaments & features. So, I'm about to give it anyway with my 2012 sketch version of Spot AGE-1 Normal.

• This here is the armored AGE-1 used by Spot Speedster, of which was came from the "Legendary Savior" called "The Gundam" [CLICK ME! #!]. The AGE-1 was crafted masterpiece by the Asuno Family, and they follow up with the AGE-2 (for Gumball) & AGE-3/FX armors (for Chowder). Like future AGE armors, the AGE-1 uses the "AGE Device" [CLICK ME! #2] a memory device that will access the armor. Although, it did not effect their age progression, human/anthro or otherwise. It also has "Wear System" crafted by the "Age Builder" [CLICK ME! #3], which also crafted several arsenals for the armor AGE trio. As for the AGE-1's Wear System, it can switch from Normal to other forms like the "Titus", "Spallow", "Razor", "Glansa", etc...

Spot AGE-1 Normal Came from the: AGE-1 Gundam AGE-1 Normal

Armament(s):

• DODS Rifle The basic long ranged armament of the AGE-1 Normal. The DODS Rifle was created by the AGE system after the Genoace's Beam Spray Gun. The DODS Rifle spins the beam it fires like a powerful drill, generating enough force to destroy enemy mobile suits in a single shot. The DODS rifle has a limited number of shots, enough to keep a running battle going for some time but eventually repeated use without resupply will render the weapon empty. The DODS Rifle can be stored on rear waist armor when not in use. The rifle has two configurations, a one-handed mode where the barrel is rotated so that the secondary grip is pointing downwards, and a two-handed mode where the barrel is rotated so that the secondary grip is horizontally aligned. The latter mode allows for higher precision when shooting. The word DODS is an acronym that means "Drill-Orbital Discharge System".

• Beam Saber/Dagger Stored in the AGE-1's side skirt armor are a pair of beam sabers. The beam sabers can adjust their length for different combat situations and are also strong enough to pierce and destroy enemy mobile suits with ease. One can be used as a reserve weapon, or both can be used simultaneously in a twin sword fashion.

• Shield The AGE-1's defensive armament. It is made much thicker and sturdier than the Genoace's shield.

• Beam Spray Gun A weapon originally used by the Genoace. Despite being a beam weapon, the Beam Spray Gun is not powerful enough to damage the armor of mobile suits. The shots of the Beam Spray Gun are about as powerful as a tank shell.

• Marker Shot A pistol-like weapon with non-lethal ammo used during the mock battle.

• Beam Rolling Lance The Beam Rolling Lance is a pole weapon with a rolling beam cutter on its tip. With it, the AGE-1 can slice down Vagan suits far better than regular beam sabers.

Special Feature(s):

• AGE System The AGE System is the Special OS for the AGE-1 (AGE-2, AGE-3 & AGE-FX) engineered by the lineage of the Asuno family. It researches the evolution of living beings by digitizing the mysteries surrounding it and collects battle data to customize itself, grows alongside the Cuteness Mecha member and is customized and used exclusively by the AGE armor users. The only way for this system to be used and the AGE Armor to mobilize is by using the AGE Device. After the rollout of its successor, AGE-2, AGE-1 was taken to the Earth Federation's headquarters, Big Ring so that it can be modified to not require the AGE System anymore.

• Wear System The arms (including shoulder armor) and legs of the AGE-1 are detachable, which allows alternate sets of limbs or "wears" to be attached. In conjunction with the AGE Builder, this allows the AGE System to dramatically change the overall performance of the unit by analyzing combat data and fabricating new wear parts to adapt to new situations or enemies. Later, the AMEMBO support craft was built to deliver the wear parts to AGE-1 during battle, saving it from having to return to its mothership/base for the exchange of wear parts.

Spot Speedster - created by ME! Armor (Mobile Suit Gundam AGE) - Gundam Series © SUNRISE, Sotsu

[sanssouci-sims]

johnny zest is a good man (not clickbait i swear)

I never thought a townie would grow on me (I’ve largely ignored them for the most part), but Johnny Zest did. Let me tell you why!

HE’S GOT A LITTLE GIRL, GUYS. //sniff

What’s that? I’m automatically going to call him a good man just because he had a daughter? Why yes, I am. Sure, it seems bland at face value, but with the magic of ✨ 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 ✨, I’m going to make it better.

You see, I first heard about Johnny Zest through The Sims Freeplay (basically a mobile Sims game and literally the FIRST Sims game I’ve ever played that introduced me to this stupid franchise to begin with), and honestly? He came off as absolute GARBAGE. In that game, he’s meant to (from what I remember) supervise a whole task line in a neighborhood where you’re supposed to complete a series of tasks to like... repair stuff in houses within that neighborhood? I think???? You have to complete them within a specific time limit though, or else you’ll have to shell out virtual money (or use actual money to buy more of said currency) to like, buy extra time, I think. And he’d give you something like an “extra zesty” grand prize if you completed everything in time.  I don’t know about you, but I mean like any mobile game riddled with micro-transactions, the whole thing is awfully cash-grabby (you know, like the Landgraabs). Plus, he generally just comes off as a creep like a few other Freeplay NPCs.

When I started playing TS4, I found out Johnny would also be in this game as a playable townie. And I groaned.

Like many of my other townies, I would ignore him for the most part. He lived in a trailer, wanted to be a stand-up comedian, and had no relationships with anyone (in addition to being disowned by his own family). He was a loser for all I cared.

One day, when I was looking for a household to play in Oasis Springs, and I found that Johnny had a new little face with him.

Meet Isabelle Zest, and here is how I think she came into Johnny’s life.

As mentioned previously, Johnny Zest had no one in his life. His family had long since cut him off ever since he said he wanted to become a comedian, and his parents refused to provide him any financial support to get him started on his feet. Fortunately, he was able to slowly progress in his career in entertainment to the point where he was able to scrounge enough money to upgrade his housing situation from a trailer to a modest one-story home.

Still, Johnny would always come home at the end of his work day to an empty house. He just wanted someone to share some joy with.  He wasn’t sure how this randomly crossed his mind, but one day, he decided he wanted to just... have a child. Obviously, he wasn’t just going to go start one with a random woman. In fact, he always thought he was very awkward with girls. Instead, he searched online for adoption centers near him that were looking to place children in loving homes. After a while of scrolling, he stumbled across a little girl named Isabelle.

Not only was her picture adorable, but she was described as a quiet but sweet girl who liked to smile and learn about new things. She was also almost nearly deaf and needed to wear hearing aids.  Johnny was intrigued and booked an appointment to visit the adoption center. There, he met Isabelle for the first time!

Johnny was a little nervous at first, but seeing Isabelle smiling at him just being himself tugged at his heartstrings. By the end of his visit, all Isabelle wanted to do was to just follow him around and give him hugs.

After a few more meetings, Johnny decided he wanted to adopt Isabelle. He had to fill out what felt like a multitude of paperwork and scrounge up a lot more money, but after a while, he was finally able to finalize everything and take Isabelle home!

There wasn’t really any time to settle down, however, as Johnny still had to work, obviously. But when he does have free time, he makes sure to spend it with Isabelle. In the meantime, though, when he’s assigned work to complete at home, he usually does it in the dining room where he can watch Isabelle, who will usually play with her toys nearby.

When it’s time for him to work away from home though, Johnny usually sends Isabelle to daycare. Obviously, she’s less than pleased.

Once he comes home, though? It’s all worth it when he gets to see that little smile on her face.

Weekends are what Johnny and Isabelle look forward to the most, as he doesn’t have to work and she gets to spend time with her dad all day long! He’ll often take her somewhere fun, and her favorite places to visit are the local playground and pizzeria.

So yeah, Johnny Zest is a good man. All he wants to do is to bring joy to his little girl’s life, and that’s all that matters.

[milesdocx]

How much would it take for you to end a loved one’s suffering?

You wake up drearily across the shores

Sand in between your toes as you stare at the shoreline

A rush of peace and tranquility fills and mixes inside of you

And then you see her

Your love

She’s smiling earnestly

New emotions fill your body

Partially excitement, partially affection

She goes to show you what she found in the ocean

A place you dare not to touch as your mild fear keeps you from it

A mix of rocks and sea shells she put in a bottle to take as a keepsake

You’re too far from the beach to come here often so you like to make the most of it

Keeping keepsakes to hold you over until the next time you can visit the salty air and the seagulls

You run along the shoreline holding hands

Giggling

Smiling

Looking into eachothers eyes as if you had just seen eachother for the first time

And fell in love all over again just from a glimpse

But eventually your beach day ends, as everything must come to

Life goes on

It takes a turn for the worse

Your love, she’s not her self anymore

Her giggles turn into coughing fits

Her smiles are weaker

And while you look at her with love all the same

Her eyes become duller

She isn’t the same

You’re back at that beach again

But it’s more polluted

And while the garbage isn’t all too much

It doesn’t hold the same spark anymore

She’s growing weaker

You’re powerless to do anything

The beach becomes more and more polluted

The teal and cyan sea becomes brown and muddy

The salty air tastes of sulfur

You watch as if each day could be her last

You make your home the hospital

As much as it can be at least

New emotions fill you

Sadness and hopelessness build up in you

It’s hard to breathe when it’s crushing you

Your jeans are tear soaked

Visiting hours are over

You leave again, you kiss her on her head and say goodbye

She can barely even look at you

You’re at the beach again

It’s your wedding day

The day you two were pronounced wives

You slid a ring onto one another’s fingers, a symbol of what you meant to eachother

She always loved the beach, you had your reservations but you went along with it because you love her

Feelings of anger and pain shove yourself inside of you

Why did this have to happen to you? It wasn’t supposed to go this way

You were supposed to live long happy lives

Hundreds, if not thousands of more beach trips together, as you and her grow old

Now you’d be lucky if you got one more

She isn’t getting better

You’re the only one left for her

She doesn’t have any other family members

Not any she talks to at least

The one you thought would hold your hand throughout everything

Her life is in your hands

You can chose to end her suffering

Or prolong it incase she gets better

And instead of emotions filling you

It guts your very being

And all that’s left, is emptiness

You’re back at the beach again

There’s no pollution this time

The sand burns your toes

You make cautious steps to the shoreline

Your feet, close to being consumed by the waves

You step in, to relieve the bottoms of your feet from the burning hot sand

And as you take more and more steps

Breaking the boundary you once set for yourself

You know what you have to do

She can’t live like this

It’s time to let go

It’s time to let her sleep

[epacer]

Itchy Scalp

AAP issues new guidance for head lice in schools

Of the many illnesses, accidents and other classroom mishaps parents dread, a lice infestation is high on the list.

New guidance from the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) issued Monday lists a number of treatment options and reiterates its stance that forcing a child with lice to stay home may do more harm than good.

The full clinical report, “Head Lice,” points out that, while it may cause discomfort, head lice don’t spread disease and are not a sign of poor hygiene — but highlighting a case by sending the child into quarantine may cause “significant stigma and psychological stress.”

“Head lice are an unpleasant part of the human experience, but they can be successfully managed and are no reason for a child to miss school,” said Dawn Nolt, MD, MPH, FAAP, lead author of the report. “The AAP encourages pediatricians to serve as an educational resource for families, school districts and communities so that head lice may be treated and managed without stigma.”

The AAP says that in-school screening programs are costly and haven’t been shown to reduce cases of head lice in children. Instead, schools should be offering educational programs for families “to help increase understanding and management of head lice in the community,” according to the AAP.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention recommends that students diagnosed with live head lice not be dismissed from school early and should return the following day after starting treatment to kill the lice.

Some schools have instituted a “no-nit” policy, referring to the egg of a louse or the empty shell casing, but both the AAP and the National Association of School Nurses (NASN) suggest discontinuing the practice. Nits very often don’t translate to crawling lice, and keeping a child out of school can be a burden for both the child and the parents. A 2006 study found that 4-8 million children were treated unnecessarily for lice and kept out of school annually, forcing parents to miss millions of work days, resulting in an estimated $4-8 billion loss to the U.S. economy.

What are lice and how can I avoid them?

Lice are about the size of a sesame seed and are grayish-white in color, according to the AAP.

The tiny pests can’t jump or hop like fleas and can only crawl, so in most cases there has to be head-to-head contact for lice to spread.

It’s possible for lice transmission to happen indirectly via combs, brushes, hats, sports helmets and other items, but that is much less likely, the AAP says. They are also specific to humans, so you don’t have to worry about getting lice from your dog or cat.

While lice will die in about a day or less without feeding on a human, they can survive under water for several hours and are unaffected by chlorine levels in swimming pools.

The AAP suggests using a fine-tooth louse comb to check for the parasites or any nits. Nits found more than 1 centimeter away from the warmth of the scalp likely won’t ever turn into a crawling louse.

As part of Monday’s report, the AAP offered a variety of treatment options in the case of a confirmed lice infestation, ranging from manual removal and home remedies to topical medication.

Parents are encouraged to call their pediatrician to ensure a proper diagnosis and decide on a treatment plan. For more information on lice and treatment options, see the AAP’s Healthy Children page at: https://www.healthychildren.org/English/health-issues/conditions/from-insects-animals/Pages/Signs-of-Lice.aspx?_ga=2.157516346.122582911.1664475099-954948860.1664475099&_gl=1*1c98wqw*_ga*OTU0OTQ4ODYwLjE2NjQ0NzUwOTk.*_ga_FD9D3XZVQQ*MTY2NDQ3ODYwMy4yLjEuMTY2NDQ3ODc0OS4wLjAuMA.. *Reposted article from Nexstar Media Wire by Jeremy Tanner, September 29, 2022

[n30nwrites]

Vermillion

TW: SH (Vervain as a vampire), Depression, Death, Dying, Murder, Guilt, Blame, Starvation, suicide attempt (its separated by the ♤♤♤)

Finn Mikaelson didn’t believe he would fall in love again. When he was reunited with Sage because Niklaus needed his blood, he had believed that things would return to normal. That the 900 years that they had spent apart wouldn’t have changed anything. That the 900 years of evolution hadn’t changed anything.

He had then realized that he was wrong, and he was stupid for thinking so.

Within two hours of seeing Sage again, he had watched as she was staked by the Salvatore Brothers. She died, protecting him. He watched as her eyes lost the life in them, as she stared up at him and her final moments were just him, begging for her to come back. He had grabbed her body and ran away, running to the one place that used to bring him comfort.

His family.

While they’re relationship was estranged, especially with him trying to kill himself which was also going to kill his siblings, Finn needed reassurance, he needed something that was going to stop him from going over the edge.

Holding Sage’s dead body, Finn had never felt so weak. He entered the house and was greeted with stares from his four siblings, his body weak and he fell to his knees.

As much as the children of Mikael praised themselves for being the strongest, this was a moment where they all felt weak.

Finn lost all hope, all happiness. He felt guilt, believing that her blood was stained on his hands. And he hated himself, looking in the mirror all he could be reminded of was that Sage watched him as she went, the showers he took should’ve burned his skin as he would try to rub the guilt away.

He lost everything that made him him. Finn didn’t feel like he was living anymore, those two hours with Sage gave him hope, and in 10 seconds it was taken away. Finn was a shell that only lived inside the large house, he would sit around and mope. His siblings didn’t understand, as much as they all had their demons, they were all very different people who never knew how to understand each other.

But they stood with each other, and his siblings helped in the little ways.

Kol was the one who kept him fed, constantly reminding him and giving him blood bags. His youngest brother kept trying to get Finn to be alive again, suggesting revenge, anarchy, and death. Kol just needed a reaction from him. Just one. He wanted Finn to yell at him, to say that they shouldn’t be this way, for Finn to react instead

Elijah kept him busy. While he would stay in the house, Elijah had given him many things to distract him. Books from throughout the years, a phone, a computer, and it seemed like he would bring in a new item every week for Finn to try a hobby. Elijah was getting him used to the 21st century, which he was thankful for. When he had first woken up, seeing the change had caused him to get overstimulated.

Klaus took a different method. Instead of speaking to him about the situation, Klaus would just drag him into his painted room. Two empty canvases where paints would be spread out. Klaus would sit and paint, and Finn would just stare out at first. And then he would watch Klaus paint.

His little brother truly had a talent. And while the situation might seem strange, it seemed like Finn just didn’t feel alone.

The one who made the real change was Rebekah. Who had accepted the 21st century with open arms, and had been the first one to suggest Finn a therapist.

The move to New Orleans helped him. Away from the toxicity of Mystic Falls, and he had found a vampire therapist that neither his siblings nor Marceleus had their claws in.

The first session was tense. As was the second, the third, the fourth, and the fifth. Wasn’t until the sixteenth session (and yes he was counting) that he had finally relaxed.

“It wasn’t your fault” They told him.

“Then why do I feel guilty?” He’d respond.

The truth was, you cannot change in just a few sessions. That coping doesn’t just happen at the beginning, he doesn’t immediately get over it. It takes time. But Finn was willing to take the time to get better, he needed too.

And not for anyone else, just himself.

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

He met you thanks to his youngest brother, Kol. Apparently you were long time friends, one of the first people Kol had turned, in fact. From what he had learned, the two of you met every time he was out of the coffin.

You were Kol’s closest friend from what he understood. Kol had suggested that you two should hang out. A private discussion between the two where every time Kol felt low, you had made him feel 10 times better.

And he had to take the advice.

First it was just hanging out in public areas, walking around the park or New Orleans in general. The two of you avoided the woods though, some weird fear that you had that he hadn’t learned of yet.

“Ok so goldfish, or cheez itz?” You were barely paying attention to where you two were going. Your body was turned completely so you had to walk backwards, your hands waving in the air. Relaxed, no fear that anyone would attempt on your life, you lived life in reckless decisions and freedom.

“What’s the difference?” Finn almost laughed at how your face changed, almost like a comical shocked face.

“I know you did not just say that, they taste totally different.” One was more cheesier than the other, obviously

“I’m a vampire, it’s not like I can tell.”

“We may be dead but our taste buds aren’t. Give me a second.” You sped away, and just as soon as you were gone you were back again, and in your hand was a small back of goldfish and cheez itz, both already open. “So I might’ve stolen these from two children but-”

“Go return them.”

“But! I traded them for gushers, so it was a fair deal.” So you didn’t steal them, he wanted to say. But he didn’t.

“What are gushers?’’

“Please tell me you are kidding-”

Then he started getting comfortable around you. That changed to hanging out in bars, and going dancing together. You would shop, cook together (he was terrible at it), you even got him to do laser tag (he cheated all the time). You two couldn't really travel yet, but you talked about going everywhere, and he seemed to enjoy that.

You helped him adjust to this Vampire life, after 1000 years of being uncomfortable in his own skin he was finally starting to feel like he belonged. He learned about how the world worked (still confused about taxes) and even how politics worked.

You also talked to him about making a patch jacket, but he didn’t really understand it.

That was how he realized that he fell in love with you. You were all he ever wanted love to be, wild and free. He could swear to himself that there was no possible way for him to love you anymore, yet he knew that the next day he would.

It was the betrayal that he felt. How dare he? Falling in love with another person that would only end up with sadness, and their death. He was a monster, an unloveable creature that fed on the innocent. He killed Sage, she was dead, never coming back, and it was all his fault. Why would he think that he could fall in love again, after 3 years, and still get a happy ending? And there was no way you could ever be in love with him. You deserved better, you deserved someone who didn’t hate himself.

Finn Mikaelson hated himself, and this was the spark that tipped him over.

♤♤♤♤♤

You found him screaming in pain, with vervain over his entire body, he had forced some down his throat, and cut into his skin and forced the vervain in the cuts, before forcing his own body to heal over it.

A never ending pain, it's what he wanted to feel.

At that moment, you froze. Flashes of your human and vampire life mixed into one. You felt yourself getting dragged out of the moment as his eyes locked onto yours, they were screaming. Sadness, pain, despair, grief, and hatred.

You sped towards him, your arms would burn as you practically yanked it off of him. His body was weak, he seemed to have not taken any blood in a while, and his apartment was empty of it.

You bit into your wrist and shoved it into his mouth, watching as he tried to push you away, but with him not eating and you being 900 years old, at this time you were stronger than him.

♤♤♤♤♤

It wasn’t long before you lifted him and had his body practically drenched on your shoulder, and carried him to the Mikaelson Mansion, where Klaus and Elijah immediately greeted you.

-

“There is nothing wrong with relapsing.” He was just laying on the bed, you were next to him trying to get a reaction. “It happens to everyone, and it’s not like you have to start all over. Just a bump in the road.”

Nothing but silence.

“I called in Dr. Langstone for a session, you have one tomorrow.” You watched as his eyes flickered, “And I have something for you, when you’re ready.”

“I know that you might not respond, but if you can just tell me one thing.” You were quiet. “Do you need a distraction, silence, or to be alone?”

You couldn’t tell if he was thinking or if he was zoned out. His mouth muttered the word ‘distraction’ and you moved. His body made room as you both laid on the large bed.

“When I first met Kol, he was going to kill me…”

_______________________________

I do have a pt. 2 for this in the works

This is the song that inspired this fic

@chrisemi