#and that she's a million times better than you flops anyways

[makeyouminemp3]

nancy wheeler antis are actually so weird to me. and honestly, I'm done playing the nice card of, "not trying to be rude" cause I am. I'm simply just so tired of it and I don't get it. ESPECIALLY with the bullshit reasons yall have for hating her by bringing up, "oh, but she hurt poor baby steve. she's such a bitch" look, I understand steve's feelings in that situation but I feel for nancy SO MUCH MORE. because yall CONSTANTLY ignore her trauma and call her a bad girlfriend to steve and even going wayyyyy out of line and saying she ABUSED him? and even if she is a bitch, she's allowed to be anyways. I support her rights and her wrongs. and also some of you guys are the same people who stan the CANONICALLY racist abuser known as b*lly flopgrove. like be for real with me right now

you guys are weird, you're high key misogynistic in my opinion, and your takes suck and you should stay off my blog and never have an opinion on nancy wheeler ever again or you're getting blocked

[unnamed-atlas]

Finally finished sweet tooth s3. Having incredibly mixed feelings

[strawberrynightmere]

Bad Cats!!! [Yandere Andrew Graves x female reader]

Warning ⚠️: yandere tendencies, alternate universe, ruining dates, will add more latter, this is short.

A/n: to those who harassed the creator of the intentionally disturbing and grosse horror game, I wish a big ol' FUCK YOU.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

If you were honest with yourself, this was your fault. Though you shouldn't beat yourself up about it, you should be surprised by the other hand.

From either of your cats, you expected this from Ashley, but Andrew attacking your date? Makes you really think.

Your date didn't like it one bit and stormed out of your apartment. You obviously did chase after them to check if they were okay, and then got rejected in a hurtful way, too. Calling you a future cat lady who's gonna die old and alone.

To say your attraction for them instantly dropped to a -1000 was an understatement. You'd understand if they left because they were allergic or something, but insulting any cat lady and saying you were gonna die old and alone simply because you have two cats was just a jackass thing to do.

Flopping on your couch face first, you groan into the cushions in frustration. It's been so long since you had a date that went well, and a good fuck too.

"Meow."

You lift your head up to see Andrew sitting in front of you. The cat leans down and licks your face. Sitting up, you lift Andrew to your eye level.

"I should be mad at you. However, you did save me from what possibly could've been." Andrew just rubs his face on yours just for some more affection.

"Hehe! That's enough. Let's get you something to eat." Those words were like some form of a summon because Ashley appeared on your shoulder without any sound.

You went into the kitchen and poured some food into their bowls, and went to grab something for yourself from the fridge.

While sitting at the dining table, you contemplate if you should make a phone call or not.

Oh, what the hell you planned to sleep in anyway.

You immediately call your friend to tell her how it went.

"It didn't go good, did it?"

"Well gee, Nina! What do you think about how it went?!" Irritated with her instant and correct assumption, you use a sarcastic reply.

"Alright! Tell me what happened."

Much better.

"It was going well at first. I was feeling it. They were feeling it, too."

"Get to the point."

"Getting there. But when we got to my place, Andrew wasn't feeling it." You hear her laughing in amusement over the phone.

"I'm serious! He attacked them, and then they said some real out of pocket stuff to me."

She's still laughing.

"I'm sorry, Andrew? Are you sure it wasn't Ashley?"

Alright, just because they were both black cats, it didn't mean you couldn't tell the difference between them. You told her that a million times.

"If you're just gonna laugh, then I'll hang up."

"Sorry! Sorry. I just didn't expect it."

You sigh. "Whatever."

"Listen, let's talk tomorrow, I'm going to bed early."

"Alright." You hang up.

"Should've called Julia instead."

You jolt in surprise when you see Andrew sitting on the table, staring at you. "We talked about this." Actually, you talked, were either of them listening or not was a mystery. You place him on the floor and put your empty dishes in the dishwasher and decide you should call it a night and head to bed.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Once, Andrew was sure you were deep asleep. He changed into his human form and crawled in bed with you.

"You should've seen your face, Andy, I was so sure you were gonna claw their eyes out." Ashley, who was still in her cat form, spoke.

"Why are you still here?" Andrew whispered irritatedly.

"Oh, come on, I'm living the life of luxury. Why should I leave?" Andrew just rolled his eyes at his sister's excuse, but he knew she'd rather eat glass than admit that she got attached to you.

Deciding to ignore her, Andrew continued to cuddle up to you.

"Aww, you stiw angwy youw giwfwiend bwout someone ewse home?" Now that wasn't needed.

"Shut up."

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

A/n: it wasn't that good, but it wasn't that bad.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Doppelgänger

Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Angst, self-image issues, mentions of childhood trauma, addiction, our mans has had it rough as fuck™

A/N: Brought on by this post from @tarjapearce and the comments i made (I'm sorry i am a ho for some angst sometimes) I'm merging ATSV stuff with comic stuffs because NO WAY IS HIS MOVIE DESIGN LIKE THAT ON PURPOSE WITHOUT IT POSSIBLY COMING UP IN FUTURE MOVIES ASDFGHJKL

Taglist: @tojishugetiddies

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

You came home and it was quiet. Quiet and dark; and already you knew something was up. You left Miguel sleeping so you could attend to some meetings and paperwork at your office, and pick up a few groceries.

Miguel had been acting strange the past few days. You'd asked him if it had something to do with work and he simply shrugged the question aside, like it was a small chip on one of his broad shoulders.

You'd asked him what was bothering him again, and he simply stared at the carpet, muttering something you didn't quite catch, and he went straight to bed.

You were so worried you'd even texted Gabriel on your walk home:

Hey, Gabe...

Heyyyy! If it ain't my favorite brother's girlfriend!

You couldn't help but roll your eyes with a soft snort. You only have one brother, Gabe.

No no, chica, I meant that you're my favorite of any girlfriends he's ever had. 😂

Gabe that sounds a little... Bad. 😬

Does it? Woops! Anyways, what's up? My big dumb, brick-house brother do something to make you mad?

No, Gabe... He's acting weird. Has been for the past few days, and he won't open up to me. I'm worried.

You could see the chat bubble pop up over and over again with '...' signifying that he was in the process of texting. With how many times it popped up and went away you were expecting a bible scripture's length of a text wall.

But what you got instead made your heart sink.

He saw our mom. She... She brought up Tyler.

Oh, god. You knew that Miguel and Conchata had a rocky relationship. Miguel had told you why. It was so bad, even just recalling everything, that you felt Miguel's pain like it was your own.

You also knew that Miguel's biological father, Tyler Stone, was the one that manipulated him, that used him, got him addicted to Rapture and almost killed him...

But it wasn't even the real dose of Rapture. It was simulated. Just another manipulation tactic. It was overhearing that conversation that Miguel found out the truth of his heritage, and you could tell that nugget of knowledge permanently chipped his sense of identity.

Even moreso when he confessed to you about Gabriela--

Your phone pinged.

They fought. It was... It was ugly. I... I didn't know about Tyler. God, chica, I didn't know. Dad was...

You felt your heart flop, knowing poor Gabriel was shielded by Miguel for so long so he didn't have to suffer like he did at the hands of their gaslighting and manipulative mother, his sadistic sperm donor... Miguel wanted nothing more than to protect Gabriel from that pain.

Your fingers flew fast on the little keyboard, a few spelling errors here and there;

God, Gabri im sory you had to fidn out that way

I know. It figures Miguel would have told you, before me, tho. He loves you.

He loves you too, Gabri. God, more than you know. He loves you.

I know. He was trying to keep me safe and out of Mom's drama.

No offense, Gabri, but if I ever see that woman I'm rearranging her face with a shovel.

OMG. I mean... After the things she said to Miggy, I... Kind of want her to at least feel consequences of her actions, y'know?

Oh, she will. Don't worry. Thanks for telling me this, Gabri.

Go cuddle my big brother and tell him I love him, k? Let me know how he's doing.

OMW home now, I'll text you when he's feeling better.

KK, see ya.

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Yeah. You knew for sure Miguel was still heartbroken when you came home after that.

You put the groceries away, a somber expression on your face as a million thoughts went through your head.

God, of course Conchata had to come see Gabriel at the same time Miguel was there. You wouldn't be surprised if either she could have tabs kept on him, just to... to try and lord her power over him somehow, like he was still that scared little boy, holding onto his baby brother, being his shield and buffer from their parents' fights.

That bitch had to have had a hand in Tyler using him the way that he did, that she had to have known about--

Your mind was knocked away from those dark thoughts when you heard glass shatter.

You dropped the bag of apples onto the ground, the fruits tumbling out and rolling across the floor as you made a mad dash to your bedroom.

Noting Miguel wasn't in there, you turned to the adjoining bathroom door, seeing faint light come down from below, small wafts of steam rolling out.

"Miguel?" You frantically called out, knocking on the door and leaning your ear against the smooth metal.

You could hear shuffling and the tinkling of glass shards, as well as the shower running; but no verbal reply.

You knocked on the door again, hurried and a little too hard, your fingers hovering over the control panel.

Before you could push a button, the door slid open.

Miguel was in nothing but a pair of boxers, leaning over your bathroom sink, his hands gripping the marble countertops, threatening to crack the material. Beads of water rolled down his muscular, tanned skin; droplets of water dripped from the ends of his thick, wavy chocolate locks, the natural curls more apparent thanks to the water.

That's when you noticed it. Your bathroom mirror, shattered into a hundred pieces, scattering the counter, floor, and in the sink.

Bright, scarlet droplets were on the floor, steadily building into small puddle from his right hand, his knuckles split, shards of the reflective material sticking out of it.

"I'll pay for it." His voice croaked out, unable to lift his eyes to meet your horrified gaze. "I just--"

"Oh, god! Miggy!" You breathed, reaching out, taking a step towards him, only to wince and hiss when the pieces of broken mirror stabbed the soft, delicate soles of your feet.

You gritted your teeth as the glass crunched, but you grabbed Miguel.

Instantly it was like a switch flipped inside of him, Miguel's head snapped up and he looked down at you, seeing the bloody footprints you now left on your tile.

He looked terrified at what he was seeing. How you just ignored the shards in your body in favor of frantically digging around one of the cabinets for your first aid kit.

"Bebita... I..." Miguel choked out.

When you found it, you killed the shower and stepped into the glass once again, pulling him into your room, and onto your bed, your feet leaving bloody prints as you walked, like macabre rose petals being left in your wake. Miguel had a large enough stride that he was careful to avoid getting any in his feet, but the smell of your blood permeated the air, it made him sick to his stomach. Not with disgust.

With guilt.

Of course, you checked him over first, plucking out the shards of glass from his knuckles and cleaning the cuts out with wound wash, ignoring the blood welling up onto the tile floor of your bedroom from.

You carefully roll his hand as you try to wrap the gauze around his knuckles. "Miggy, can you hold your--"

"I'm sorry." He interrupts.

You looked up at him, and only then do you see his face. Framed in his wet curls, his face was shadowed and haunted, his eyes dark and as tumultuous in a maelstrom of anxiety and fear.

You bring your hand to his cheek, caressing one of his sharp cheekbones with your thumb. "Baby, it's okay. It's just a mirror, I can--"

He shook his head, as if your touch to his face burned him like a hot iron.

He leaned over, grabbing your legs and pulling your feet into his lap so he can assess the damage, and return the favor of cleaning and dressing them.

"You're hurt because of me." He whispered sadly, dabbing the blood away.

"I'm hurt because of the glass, honey." You tell him gently, letting him apply the "honey" to the cuts in your feet, sealing them.

His massive hands encapsulated your ankles, his thumbs rubbing small circles as the rough pads caressed your skin. Like you were made of the delicate gossamer of a butterfly's wing.

He sits like that, not meeting your eyes. And god, did that hurt you so badly. You knew how important eye contact was with Miguel, he almost always went out of his way to keep eye contact when he was conversing with someone. Having him avoid your eyes... hurt.

Because you knew he was hurting.

"Miggy." You breathed. "Talk to me."

You move your feet from his lap and scoot closer to him, moving your face until he locked eyes with you again, and you could see the pain and the tears fill his own as he looked at you; his full, pouty lips trembling in an effort to hold his emotions at bay.

His shoulders dropped low, and Miguel leans forward until he was practically bent in half, clinging to you, burying his face in your chest as he fisted your shirt in his hands.

You rubbed his shoulder with one hand, biting your lip as he softly cried into your blouse, your other hand combing through his messy wet hair.

You stayed like that, for what felt like hours. You weren't sure how long it was exactly, with the blackout curtains drawn and the lights off. The only light that dimly illuminated the room was from your bathroom, and the open door.

He finally calmed enough to speak, to explain why he shattered the mirror.

"...I look like him." Miguel said, his heart in his voice, his soul stripped down and naked with raw pain.

"Mig--"

"God, I look like him. That... that cabrón." He hissed, tugging your shirt in his fists.

"I look like that bastard that... that made me into this." The self-contempt in his voice broke your heart.

You kiss the top of his head, murmuring against him. "No, you don't, baby."

"Yes, I do!" He snapped, pulling himself away from you and throwing himself to his feet. He paced like an angry tiger in a cage, waiting to swat at whatever keeper dared enter his enclosure. He didn't notice that he was stepping into the sticky, dried blood trails you left.

"I have his--his face. His fucking face--" He said, gripping his hair in his hands, tugging as he started to hyperventilate. "My fucking nose, my fucking cheeks, my fucking lips--they're all him! I'm not allowed to be me, every time I look in the mirror I see him! I can't ever get away from him! He's a part of me, he always will be! I fucking look like him!"

You get to your feet, ignoring the throbbing in your soles as you dared to reach out, to touch the pacing tiger.

Your hands smooth up his back, gently, softly; then back down until they wrapped around his mid-section.

You feel him, how tense he is, how his muscles flex at your touch almost like he's bracing himself for some kind of blow that simply will never come from you.

You rest your cheek against his back, feeling how hot his skin was burning.

"Baby. You don't look like him. You aren't him, and you never will be." You whisper.

You plant kisses wherever you could reach, not letting him go, feeling his body shake with each shuddering breath as your soft lips made contact.

"More importantly, Tyler will never be you."

"I--"

You cut him off. "Listen to me... Did Tyler figure out multi-dimensional travel, build a strike force of super-powered people from across the multiverse? Does Tyler, almost every day, work to keep dozens--no, hundreds--of universes safe from monsters?"

He didn't answer.

"And did Tyler Stone protect your baby brother from your mother all these years?"

No answer.

"You are Miguel-goddamn-O'Hara." You tell him. "I love you, with trauma, quirks and all. I love your little scritch-scratches you make, the way your bottom lip pokes out when you pout, your crooked teeth when you smile. I love your ridiculously large body, I love how you hug me. I love the little snores you make when you fall asleep at your desk, how you crinkle your nose when you're about to sneeze.."

You feel his hands slowly rise to touch your arms where they're almost-locked around his larger frame.

"I love how sweet and gentle you are. I love hearing you curse to yourself when you shock yourself with your soldering gun... I love listening to you bicker with Lyla, or complain about one of the other Spiders bugging you." You place more kisses after each sentence; hoping each one plants a seed of love beneath his skin, to bloom into a garden that he can admire and love, not hate for the very skin he was born with out of illegitimacy and infidelity.

"Tyler Stone is not you. He never will be. He will never be as good as you." You sigh against his skin, feeling the goosebumps form in the cold of your room, now that the adrenaline of his anxiety was beginning to fade, and his body became aware of the water that was slowly drying and cooling his skin.

"I love you, Miguel O'Hara. You and no-one else. Don't ever think for a second that you don't have your own identity because of your genes."

He slowly turns in your grasp, looking down at you with raw, unclothed emotion as his hand touches your cheek.

"You're more than that. You're you, and I wouldn't have you any other way." You say, your tone set and jaw tight; every word you spoke carrying a hefty weight of seriousness and honesty.

He smiles, almost sadly as you feel the rough pads of his thumb against your cheek, the little talon there poking you but not breaking the skin.

"...I..." He said, his voice stiff as he swallows the lump in his throat.

"I really will pay for your mirror, you know."

You grin up at him and turn your face so you can kiss the palm of his hand.

"I know you will, Miggy."

"But I am curious... I felt like you were going to keep going with the affirmations." He said, raising an eyebrow slowly.

"Well, the last one..."

"The last one?" Miguel tilted his head down at you quizzically.

You grin at him again, your teeth showing and eyes creasing as you barely manage to reach around him, swatting his ass playfully.

"I also love the fact you have the nicest ass I've ever seen on a man."

He couldn't contain the snort that came out of him, and he reached up to cover his whole face with his other hand.

"Mierda..."

You giggle as you step around him, giving a playful swat to his ass once again as you walk by.

"C'mon, Miguel O'Hara. You got a broken mirror to clean up."

His shoulders lifted as he watched you, his eyes softer than you've ever seen as he smiled.

Yeah. You were right.

He was Miguel O'Hara.

And he was certainly going to pay you back for the smacks to his ass.

[sophswritingthings]

hi love!! i was wondering if i could put in a request for a hazel callahan fic where reader is chronically ill and is in a bad flare up so she hasn’t been to school in a few days so hazel comes over to take care of her and there’s just lots of fluff and cuddling <333

pairing: hazel callahan x chronically ill!fem!reader

a/n: I went and did a little research, and I hope I do this justice babe <33 please enjoy!

summary: you’re going through a bad flare up; you haven’t been to school in a while. hazel, your girlfriend, shows up at your doorstep with essential oils and snacks.

word count: 1,047 words / 5,645 characters

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hazel was standing at her locker, pulling books and a backpack out of the long blue storage unit of a closet.

you hadn’t been in school the last few days; she could assume why. she knew of your illness; it wasn’t a secret you kept. you weren’t embarrassed about it, by any means, it was part of what she loved about you so god damn much. your confidence, your positivity.. they were things she didn’t have all the time. she admired you. as both a partner and a friend.

she practically slammed her locker shut, turning away with her backpack hanging on by one strap on her shoulder. she headed outside the school, the frosty wind hitting her face. she sighed, sprinkles of snow dancing on her hair and eyebrows. you always loved the snow; shame you weren’t to see it with her.

an idea pricked her mind.. she wanted to see you so, so bad. but was it right to go to your house, if you weren’t feeling well? she'd texted you, but you hadn’t responded. not that she excepted you to!

yet she still desperately wanted to care for you and love on you as much as she could; if that would make you feel better. she would do anything to make that happen.

hazel headed back to her own house, slipping in the house just to brush right past her mom and go to her room. she tossed her backpack on her desk chair, flopping down on her bed. she stared at the celling for what felt like hours; to which it was really only, tops, maybe thirty minutes. 

her head was racing a million miles a minute. 

how much pain were you in? was she wasting time just sitting here, when she could be there with you, easing your pain?

she groaned, rubbing her heads over her eyes. she jumped up out of her bed, grabbing her backpack again. she piled lavender essential oils into the bag, turning to a basket full of snacks. your favorite snacks, might she add, that she kept in her room for when you came over.

she piled those into her bag, too, and slung it over her shoulder again. grabbing her phone, she shoved it into her hoodie. which she'd probably have to remove later anyways because she planned to give her hoodie to you.

she sped down the steps, right past her mom again—who attempted to talk to her, but she swiftly ignored her and headed right out the front door.

your house, was luckily, not far from hers. it was maybe a block down; so she just opted to walk rather than waste her cars gas. that shit was getting expensive, anyways.

once at your house, she gazed at your front door for a minute. plain white door with a black circle window; the glass stained with color which she knew was all you. 

she walked up to the door, knocking gently. 

when a woman who wasn’t you answered the door, she put on her best smile, in case this woman was a doctor or someone who had been checking on you—or worse—your mother.

“ah,” the woman tapped her fingers against the door. “your (y/n)’s girlfriend, right? hazel?”

“uh, yup! o-one and only,” she chuckled nervously, her grip tightening on her bag strap.

“breathe. I’m her older sister,” she laughed, moving aside to let hazel in. “she’s upstairs in her room. not feelin’ too well.”

“yeah… I assumed,” hazel sighed, thanking her and heading up the stairs. a door that was covered in swatches of paint read “(y/n)’s room” painted in glitter rainbows and stars. 

she smiled. she knocked with the back of her knuckles on the door, peering inside. the door wasn’t fully shut, cracked open a little—she assumed it was so people could check on you.

you were lying on your bed, your frame curled up against your pillows. your face was scrunched up in pain, your hair tied into a messy bun. your hands were straddling the pillow as if you were holding on for dear life. you had your headphones in, and couldn’t hear her.

“(y/n).. baby..?” she calls out to you, making your eyes open wide. you tug out your headphones, looking so relived to see hazel standing in your doorway. 

“hazel!” you smiled as bright as you could, your expression still pained yet very happy to see her.

“hi, honey,” she smiles back, slipping into your room. she closed the door behind her, dropping the bag beside your door. “not feelin’ the best, I guess?”

“y-yeah, not at all,” you flinch, your body squirming in pain, “took some pain meds.. did some exercise, I-it didn’t really help much.”

“would cuddles make you feel better?” she cocked her head a little, raising an eyebrow.

“much better,” you slowly open your arms, making a grabbing motion at hazel. 

she laughs at your gesture, tugging her black hoodie over her head. she’s left in a sports bra only; tossing the hoodie to you. you caught it with a smile, slipping it over your head.

she bent down to grab her back, dropping it beside the bed so you could reach it comfortably. she climbed in behind you, wrapping her arms tight around your waist. she held you close, pressing your back into her chest.

you plug your headphones back in, offering one to hazel. she does the same as you; pressing a kiss against your collarbone. she slowly and tenderly took your hand placing kisses from your hand to your arm. you were a beauty to be worshipped; and she would do just that for you.

“your too sweet, actually,” you chuckle, crunching on what looked to be a bag of pretzels. “how did I get so lucky, huh?”

she laughs back, pressing a soft kiss against your jaw. 

“how did you get so lucky?” she scoffs, “how did I get so lucky! i mean, look at you, and than look at me. I’m like a lowly peasant and your a fucking goddess.”

you snicker, “your not a peasant!” you pat her head. “if I’m a goddess.. well your a goddesses girlfriend, than. see? not a peasant.”

she nuzzled into your neck, closing her eyes in the warmth, “guess I am, huh…”

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[mediocretosubpar-soup]

so more about the messed up reincarnation AU:

shi qingxuan spends shi wudu's parties either out or locked in his room with noise cancelling headphones on with a few appearances to get something from the kitchen or the cellar. these are not to keep an eye on shi wudu's associates. pei ming and ling wen would beg to differ as shi qingxuan glares at them every time without fail. conversations with shi qingxuan are filled with insinuations on how they better enable shi wudu to do anything immoral. anyways, shi qingxuan deals with shi wudu's parties like this for years, even though shi wudu never fails to tell them that they're more than welcome.

until one day, shi wudu hears shi qingxuan laugh, he jumps up from the couch startling pei ming and ling wen. they weren't cuddling, ok, there's just not enough space! yes even ginormous can run out of couch space, it happens. shi wudu stalks along like he's doing a mission impossible heist. ling wen and pei ming following him curiously. they peek inside the kitchen.

"who is that?" pei ming asks.

shi qingxuan is mixing drinks for a nerdy guy in glasses whose pallid skin suggests that he spends more time in the library than ling wen.

"he-xiong that's so cool." shi qingxuan laughs, the nerd raises a brow at him. shi wudu seethes just look at qingxuan, they're gorgeous, looking like a million dollars, who does this peasant think he is not to worship the ground they walk on?

"his name is he xuan. i think." ling wen mutters. "the rising star of the literature department."

uggh, literature. only pretentious rich kids and delusional scholarship kids study literature. the guy is definetely not rich. he's some sucker, he's a leech...

"your shi wudu's younger brother, aren't you?" shi qingxuan's smile freezes for an instant. oh, they hate being called that. shi wudu's mouth pulls down, it would have been nice for shi qingxuan to make a friend. "what do you do?"

"i run a pop up bar." shi qingxuan says and shi wudu can see them brace for the reaction. the disbelief, the barely veiled assumptions that he's paying for shi qingxuan's business. shi qingxuan didn't speak to him for three weeks because shi wudu dared to hand out their business card at a work event.

"you make a living of that?" behind him, pei ming winces. shi wudu wonders if he can get a scholarship revoked if he makes a donation big enough.

shi qingxuan giggles. ling wen makes a noise that expresses shi wudu's exact feeling, what the fuck?

"he-xiong, you're so bold asking me that when you've been inhaling my drinks all evening."

a big hand clamps over shi wudu's mouth. an arm wraps around him and he's pulled back. his foot kicks against the wall making a noise that sends ling wen running, pei ming with shi wudu thrown over his shoulder right after her. they jump into a linen closet. shi wudu bites pei ming.

"tell me you didn't see that!" he demands. pei ming and ling wen stare back at him. "shi qingxuan was flirting with that guy."

ling wen pats his shoulder. "there, there," she's so charmingly terrible at comforting. "everyone makes a few mistakes. just look at pei, what is his dating history but a long line of mistakes?"

"harsh." pei ming calls, he's pressed all along shi wudu's back.

"but true." shi wudu mutters to which pei ming responds by flopping onto him. "i never thought qingxuan would be interested in anyone." li

"don't worry, he'll always love you the most. just this evening, he insinuated, he would molotov my office if i got you implicated in tax evasion."

shi wudu huffs. "as if you'd be caught." ling wen laughs and threads her fingers through his hair.

the door to the linen closet is wrenched open. "what are you doing?" shi qingxuan demands flatly.

shi wudu glares at his sibling who apparently doesn't think it's important to tell him about their flirtations ambitions. well, two can play that game!

"what does it look like? we're having a threesome."

which is the wrong and the right thing to say. the right because it's nice to know that shi qingxuan isn't opposed to a potential relationshhip. wrong because they disapprove of the linen closet , loudly and at length as it is not a fit place for pei ming and ling wen to romance shi wudu. eventually, shi qingxuan has to draw breath which is when a cold voice interjects, "shi-xiong." he xuan creeps from the shadows like some kind of ghoul. honestly, what does shi qingxuan see in him. it can't be his fucking eloquence because the guy just stares. after the moment has long passed from awkward to cringeworthy, he xuan grits out. "what's the name of your bar?"

shi qingxuan softens, "he-xiong are you drunk? come on," he takes the man's arm. "let me call you a taxi."

shi wudu stares after his sibling. "fuck." he lets his head fall on ling wen shoulder. "they're doing it again."

"the distancing thing?" pei ming asks.

"fuck." shi wudu says again. he knows shi qingxuan, knows they will put he xuan into that taxi with a bottle of water, knows they won't exchange numbers and try their best not to talk to anyone for months. he also knows what shi qingxuan looks like when they genuinely like someone. he'll have to invite this he xuan person to all his parties.

[jungle-angel]

The Weaving Woman (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: Bob’s grandma is an integral part of the family and you wouldn’t have it any other way

Bob’s feet clunked down the stairs, still in his heavy boots and his hands running over his face. He was completely exhausted and wanted nothing more than to relax for just a little while before heading to bed. 

“What Bob? Did ya’ll forget something?” chuckled a familiar voice with an equally familiar Midwestern drawl. 

“Forgot what planet I landed on when the UFO dropped me off, Meemaw,” Bob yawned, flopping onto the couch. 

“Bullshit,” Marty chuckled as she made another stitch in her little knitting project. “Last time I spotted a UFO was when your grandfather came back from Korea.” 

Bob groaned, running his hands over his gummy eyes once again. 

“What’s with you anyways?” Marty asked him. “Ya’ll have been like this for the last three weeks.” 

“It’s everything Meemaw,” Bob answered. “(Y/n)’s on bedrest until the baby comes, Auggie and Patrick are all over the place and Dad’s on bedrest for the next six months until his knee heals.” 

Marty nodded knowingly, but hardly saying a word. “Getting under your skin is it?” 

Bob nodded.

“Sweetheart, I understand,” Marty told him. “Your grandfather and I have been married sixty years and every now and again we still get stressed over the little things.” 

“Really?” 

“Oh yes,” Marty replied. “When he got called for duty in Korea, we had already had three kids and a fourth on the way. I was stressed about how I’d be able to do this, that and five million other things.” 

“How’d you do it?” 

“Had a little help from Mrs. Chang and her mother up the road,” Marty told him. “We’d bitch about our husbands being away and everything else in between.” 

Bob gave it some more thought. Maybe he didn’t have any right to complain after knowing what his grandparents had gone through. “Now I feel bad.” 

“Don’t feel bad for complaining Bob,” Marty assured him, the click of her needles. “We all do it. The last four months, your grandfather wouldn’t stop bitching about the nerve pain in his feet and it ended with me telling him to stick a cork in it or he’ll wake up with a peg leg.” 

Bob laughed. One wouldn’t know it unless they knew her personally, but Marty had a mouth on her that would’ve put a Navy sailor to shame. “Thanks Meemaw,” he said. “I always feel better after we talk.” 

“Oh no worries sweet pea,” she assured him. “I’m always here if you need it.” 

Bob sat up and hugged his grandmother before she kissed his cheek. “Oh,” she said before his eyes shot up to hers. “Two things. Number one, this is for (y/n), it’s all done and just needs the seal of approval. Secondly don’t worry about your grandfather, I gave him one of those special brownies your dad had in the container on his nightstand. I’m pretty sure the nerve pain’s been nipped in the bud.” 

Bob made a face. “Uh, Meemaw......?” 

“Don’t think I don’t know what that is,” she chuckled. “Your grandfather and I lived through the sixties.” 

Bob thanked her and went straight upstairs, her handwork in his own hands and feeling loads better. 

You sat propped up in bed, reading the book that always sat right on your nightstand. “You good Bob?” 

“Yeah,” Bob sighed. “Just a little tired that’s all.” 

“Well,” you said. “Lucky for you, the boys are in bed and it’s just us.” 

Bob smiled and kissed your lips. “By the way,” he said. “Meemaw finished already. This is for you.” 

You gasped when you nearly saw it, a black and white little knit sweater with the little wooden buttons on it and in the corner a little patch in the shape of Jessie from Toy Story. 

“Oh Bob it’s beautiful,” you remarked happily. 

“She said she couldn’t resist,” Bob told you. “She saw the patch at the craft store and said it’d be perfect for when our little princess comes in two weeks.” 

You were happy beyond words and near to tears at the sight of the little sweater. Already Marty had made several blankets, little hats, socks and even a pair of mittens for your daughter who hadn’t yet entered the world, all of them made from soft yarn and wool, each emblazoned with bunnies, horses or even little Peter Rabbit patches, just as she had done for Auggie and Patrick. 

You and Bob kissed again, deeply and lovingly before you laid on your back and he began placing kisses on your large bump. “Hi princess,” he cooed, feeling her tiny little feet kicking from within. “We’re waiting for you. So isn’t great-grandma.” 

You couldn’t wait. Soon there would be a little girl in the family that everyone would be overjoyed to meet and who would be the most loved little girl you had ever met. 

[uraniumwriting]

flowers smell sweet until they wither

Another prompt fill for @flashfictionfridayofficial , this time for the prompt "Gifted Violets"

Today, we go to Halli Reed once again, with a lesson about plants and taking breaks.

~~~~

Halli walked into the AE Lounge with a stack of books in her arms and deep bags under her eyes.

Before she had left her old life, she believed that the busiest she would ever be was when she took Advanced Placement Chemistry and Biology at the same time as a high school sophomore. Just a year later, though, she realized that she was dead wrong.

Two tests on etiquette, three quizzes on intergalactic history, and memorization checks on a million different things, all in the next week. And that was if Jason didn’t decide to spring something else on the group “to keep their senses sharp.”

How was she supposed to sleep ever again if this was now her life?

“You like the flowers?” Zac’s voice shocked Halli out of her thinking.

He sat at the large table in the center of the room, the one with actual chairs instead of the beanbags that were piled in the corners.

On that table was a vase of purple flowers.

“Where did those come from?” Halli slowly walked past the table. She preferred to sit in the corners, where she could more easily ignore the blankness of the walls that should’ve been filled with posters and other signs of teenage life.

“I joined in with the Gardening Club here for the day and brought them to share.” He gestured for her to come over. “They smell really sweet, you know.”

She squinted at him. The flowers were certainly too dark to be lavender, so all Halli could imagine them smelling like was pollen.

“I think I’m fine,” she finally said. “I’m behind on studying already, and Jason’s going to burn me alive if I don’t get back on schedule.”

“You nearly die, and he’s worried about you taking quizzes?” Zac scoffed and ran his fingers through his still-shaggy brown hair. “Just a few days ago you were in the infirmary, Halli.”

“I know, but this school isn’t afraid to throw people out on the street and you know it.” Halli frowned and flopped down on one of the bean bag chairs. “I can’t be weak if I want to survive here, and that means I have to focus on studying as much as possible before curfew.”

“They’re violets, by the way.”

“What?”

Zac gestured to the flowers. “These. Violets. You remember what flowers are, right?”

“You’re acting like I don’t go outside anymore.” Halli opened one of her textbooks to the chapter “Honeypots and Sleeper Agents.”

“I’m just trying to make sure you don’t forget who you are.” Slowly, Zac stood and walked over to the corner Halli had settled herself in. “That gas leak must’ve been terrifying for you, and I’m here for you.”

“The gas leak was nothing. There’s no permanent damage, and I’m not going to randomly drop dead.”

“And what about your mind?” To Halli’s annoyance, Zac sat on the beanbag next to her. “Aren’t you scared? I mean, if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t trust this place to protect me.”

“Well, good thing you aren’t in my shoes, then.” Halli did everything she could to focus on the words on the page. At the very least, the memorization checks would be informal, but Jason had already lectured the importance of knowing how to spot espionage around your own espionage.

“You know, why don’t the two of us go to the parkour course tomorrow night?” Zac asked. “Being in the books all of the time can’t be good for you. Moving around a bit always makes me feel better, and we could do some of that team bonding everyone waxes poetically about.”

“I’ve already promised someone else for tomorrow.” Halli shook her head. “Maybe I shouldn’t even do that, anyway. I know the older kids always study later on Saturday nights. I need their help.”

“No.” He grabbed her wrist a bit too quickly for her liking. “You don’t need their help. You need rest. Other than you being in the infirmary, how much have you really rested since you’ve been here?”

“Leave me alone, Zac.” She ripped her wrist away from him. “It must be great that you sleep well even with the idea of flunking out hanging over your head, but I have nothing to go to if I lose this. I’ll rest when I’m not in danger of becoming homeless, okay?”

“But—”

“Leave. Me. Alone.” Halli turned her back to Zac and curled up into a ball. Her face was probably as red as her hair, and tears pricked her eyes, but she couldn’t let her emotions get the best of her. It was difficult to tell just how close she was to flunking out at any given moment, which meant she would just have to work herself to the bone until she was safe.

Was it fun? No. But was it better than being thrown on the streets with nothing to her name but disgrace, or worse? Definitely.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Zac muttered before he stood.

“Burning out is better than them shooting me,” Halli called back, not bothering to disguise the disgust in her voice.

Thankfully, Zac didn’t start an argument, but instead he grabbed his things and stormed out of the room. Only the violets remained on the table, though Halli eventually noticed the fuzz floating in the vase’s water.

They won’t last very long, she thought.

Halli studied until the curfew bell, but that still wasn’t enough. So, the next evening, she once again opened the door to the AE Lounge with a thicker stack of books in her arms and deeper bags under her eyes.

Instead of violets in the vase, though, something unlike anything she’d ever seen before entangled the whole table and reached out toward everything in sight.

The creature was purple and white, with slimy tentacles that seemed to grow with each passing second. Its body popped and creaked, and though Halli couldn’t see any eyes, the creature shifted as if it noticed her.

On its tentacles were razor-sharp claws, and all of them were flexed toward her.

Halli dropped everything she had been carrying. Honeypot.

Before she could open her mouth to scream, someone grabbed her from behind.

[dracoxsworld]

The Boy at the Bar - Draco Malfoy x Reader.

A/N: Hey friends here is another Draco Fic, I have one in my drafts but I am lowkey convinced it'll flop. Idek, haha. Enjoy this one. :)

Warnings/Summary: No warnings in this one! Slight innuendos, but nothin' serious. <3

You enter the Three Broomsticks with Pansy. "Alright, y/n. Scope out the guys, who's your next victim?" She teased, playfully shoving you. You laugh at her joke. "Nobody tonight, I am getting drunk for me only." You say, and point towards yourself. Pansy nodded, however you couldn't tell if it was from her being shocked or impressed. Probably both.

You and Pansy went out every weekend, scoped out guys from your school, got drunk with them and well.. Had fun with them. It was just what you both bonded over. A strange topic some would argue, but hey; you're both young. No strings attached is the way to go.

"Hey, Potter is over there." Pansy motioned to the boy with the messy black hair and circle glasses. "Ugh, never in a million years." You shudder. "I'm sure he's.. good. But he's not my type." You add. "I am not sure he would lie with a Slytherin anyway." Pansy admitted. You nodded in agreeance. Pansy saw Blaise, and her face immediately turned red. You noticed and nudged her in his direction. "I think I found my pick of the night." Pansy said, biting her lip. You laugh, "Have fun, Pansy."

You sat at the bar, alone, mindlessly scrolling on your phone, when all of the sudden you feel a presence sit next to you, you looked and was shocked at who it was. Draco Malfoy. "Draco," You greeted. He looked down at you and smirked. "Well if it isn't y/l/n." You feel your ears get hot. He always calls you by your last name, even in school. To tell the truth, you've always had a fascination with the blonde boy. But he always seemed so busy with the other Slytherin girls. "Better believe it." You respond. "Snarky, as always." He huffs, sitting down next to you, but then slightly moves to get up again, as if he changes his mind. "Do you have a boy with you tonight, y/l/n?" he asks. You shake your head, motioning with your hand to tell him he can sit back down.

"Surprising." He leered. You do a double take. "Excuse me?" You stammered. "I am in this bar every weekend, too, y/n. Plus, Pansy always tells me your stories. I'm not stupid." Draco remarked. You stare at him for a moment. "Don't pretend you're all innocent, you have a new chick on your arm every week." You said bluntly. Draco laughed. "Are you upset about that?" He teased. "No!" You barked. He put up his hands defensively. You turn towards your watered down butter beer. "I have a theory, that's all." He admitted. You whip your head in his direction. "A theory?" You question. "Yes, a theory," Draco concurred. "Well? Let's hear it." You demanded.

"Impatient, are we? Well, I think you get all these guys' attention to replace the one who's you really want." He speculated. "Are you talking about yourself?" You said, raising an eyebrow. "I never said that, but if this is your confession-"

"You are ridiculous. I mean, actually insane." You sigh, starting to leave your seat. "Hey! You never confirmed my theory." Draco said, his hand flying to your waist. You freeze. His hands are cold, you look at him. You cautiously think about your next move. "Darling, you should be with somebody who will love you in the correct way." Your ears get hot again. "I notice the way your face gets red when I say your last name." He implored. You sit down again. "Good girl, now, let's speak- shall we?"

"Draco, I have had a crush on you since I met you. Is that what you wanted to hear?" You finally spit out, after a moment of putting the sentence together carefully in your now overwhelmed brain. "But every time I thought I had your attention for more than a second, like magic, another girl appeared on your arm. Like.. some trophy." Draco's expression changed, it was originally very ornery, but has changed to empathy. "I never thought you'd think of me like you think of them."

"Y/N." Draco started. "You don't even compare. You're so much better than them,"

"Then why didn't you like, ask me out?" You implored.

"That's a good question." Draco sighed, "I am a bit of an idiot sometimes." He said truthfully but you couldn't help but laugh.

"You're not an idiot. I get it. Neither of us knew really how the other felt." You said, Draco nodded. He then looked around, then at you. "Y/N? Can you follow me somewhere, do you mind?" He asked, holding out his hand, smiling at you. "Sure, where we goin'?"

Draco led you to the Black Lake, the moonlight shining on the water, you both sat on the ground, looking out on the water. Draco's pale face was perfectly illuminated in the moonlight, looking handsome as ever. There was a slight, warm breeze in the night.

Draco looks over at you, tucks your hair behind your ear. "You're so beautiful." He half whispers. You struggle to make eye contact without blushing to an embarrassing amount. "I mean, hell, y/n. You're breath taking."

"You're incredibly handsome, Malfoy." You finally got the courage to say. "Sorry I'm not good at flirting, usually I'm drunk." You confessed. Draco laughed in response. "You're adorable, I'm handsome, we make a good fit." he grinned. He stood up, holding his hand out to you again, you take it and he pulls you to your feet. His cold hand rests on the side of your face, he looks into your eyes.

"Draco.." You whisper out. "Yes, y/l/n?" You lean in and kiss him, he hums in the kiss. His other arm wraps around your waist. You feel his thumb on your face softly rubbing back and fourth. The kiss breaks. "Be my girlfriend y/n, please." Draco proposes. You nod softly, your face nuzzling into his neck. He embraces you, wrapping you in his arms. You feel warmth in your chest, and your ears go hot.

"I never fail to make you blush."

"Oh shut it."

[pocket-lad]

CH 6- Unpredictability in Both Simple and Complex Systems

Prev

The cars pulled forward and the omnipotent voice introduced the first dinosaur, the Dilophosaurus. That clearly meant something to Alan and Ellie, as Adelaide saw their eyes light up and she watched them press themselves against the windows. Ian leaned around Alan much slower. Adelaide tried to see, but between Alan blocking half the window and the fact that she didn’t exactly know what to look for, all she could make out was greenery. 

“Where is it?” she asked. “What am I looking for?”  

“Doesn’t matter,” Alan said, turning back, more disappointed than before. “They’re not there anyway......Damn!” He slammed his hand on the car door, making Adelaide jump.  

“Why not?” she pressed, ignoring her fear. “What’s the point if there aren’t dinosaurs...That is the point of this tour, right?”  

Alan chuckled sadly to himself. Ellie turned to face Adelaide. “That’s the problem with wild animals. If you want to keep them in a safe and healthy environment, they need a big enough enclosure, which means they’ll be somewhere that we can’t see most of the time.”  

“I know how zoos work,” Adelaide mumbled to herself. Only Ian heard, and he acknowledged it with a strong, quick exhale that resembled a laugh.  

“Still,” Ellie continued, “It’s disappointing.”  

Adelaide supposed it was much more disappointing to Alan and Ellie than to herself, considering that dinosaurs were their life, whereas Adelaide was just curious. The cars continued forward along the bumpy route, and the group sat in anticipatory silence. The voice then announced that they were approaching the Tyrannosaurus Rex enclosure.  

Adelaide stood on her tippy toes on Ian’s shoulder, grabbing onto his ear lobe for stability and whispering into his ear. “That’s the big one, right?” She didn’t want to ask another dumb question to everyone. Ian’s ear involuntarily twitched at the light contact, and Adelaide would have been thrown off if she wasn’t already used to it. Any time she touched Ian, his skin would twitch with varying severity in response. Just another thing to get used to with Human Beans. Such was life.  

“Yeah, that’s the one,” he said.   

Suddenly, Alan was on the move. He crawled over the seats behind Ian and leaned on the boxes that sat in the trunk. Adelaide kept a close eye on him, but he just wanted a clearer view of the T-Rex paddock. She didn’t have anything to worry about.  

Once again, nothing appeared.  

“God creates dinosaurs. God destroys dinosaurs. God creates man. Man destroys God. Man creates dinosaurs,” Ian said.  

Adelaide rolled her eyes, and before she could respond, Ellie came back with something better than Adelaide could ever come up with.  

“Dinosaurs eat man. Woman inherits the Earth.”  

Alan and Ian stared at Ellie, but she was too preoccupied with her search for the T-Rex.  

“Thank God,” Adelaide said. “It’s about time.”  

Within the enclosure, the ground opened up and a goat emerged from underneath, which Adelaide didn’t know was possible. She added 'Earth opening up to produce a goat' to the long list of things that surprised her today, and it wasn't even close to the top of the list. It had a chain around its neck keeping it close to a pole. They were trying to lure the dinosaur in.  

Adelaide couldn’t watch, though. The way the goat was trapped made her feel uneasy. She knew logically that it was prey either way, that the T-Rex would kill it and eat it either way, but there was something about the way it was being held there. The goat couldn’t even attempt to escape, no matter how useless it would be. It didn’t have a fighting chance.  

“T-Rex doesn’t want to be fed; he wants to hunt. Can’t just suppress sixty-five million years of gut instinct,” Alan said.  

When the dinosaur still didn’t show up, Adelaide relaxed a little, but that relaxation soon shifted to boredom. She flopped down onto her back.   

Without warning, Ian stood up, or at least stood up to the best of his ability in a cramped car, and leaned forward. Adelaide guessed he was also bored, but the difference was that when Ian was bored, it meant she was in for a potentially life-threatening adventure. At the very least, she was left clinging to Ian’s jacket while he fidgeted endlessly. When Adelaide was bored, well.... That was just it. She was bored. Nothing happened.  

Only when Ian started talking did Adelaide notice he was looking into a camera.  

“Eventually you do plan on having dinosaurs on your dinosaur tour, right? Hello? H-Hello?”  

Adelaide would have laughed, considering Ian was right, and when Ian was right, he was going to let you know. She always thought it was funny when he acted like this - annoying, impatient, persistent - just not when it was directed at her.  

Unfortunately, Adelaide was preoccupied with two things. The first was that she was extremely wary of cameras. She didn’t quite know how they worked, but she knew they could record images and send those images to other places. That meant they could record and send images of her. It was too dangerous to be near one. The second was that she was slipping off the front of Ian’s shoulder.  

It wasn’t his fault. If she just had been holding on like normal, she would have caught herself in time. It wasn’t Ian’s responsibility to check with her every time he moved, and it was hard for him to see her on his shoulder anyway. Regardless of whose fault it was, Adelaide couldn’t get a grip on the slick leather and was absolutely still going to fall.  

Ellie, who had leaned back out of Ian’s way when he shot forward, saw Adelaide’s predicament. She held out her hand for Adelaide to fall onto if she needed it, though her face showed hesitancy.   

Adelaide could not believe she was even considering this. If someone had told her twenty-four hours ago that she would willingly fall into a new human’s hands, she’d have laughed in their face. Regrettably, that was indeed the case. But Ellie hadn’t made a move to hurt her yet, and she had plenty of chances. Adelaide was going to give trust a try.  

Besides, if she didn’t purposefully fall into Ellie’s hands, she probably would have done so on accident anyway. Better that Adelaide made the choice herself. Better that she was in control.  

Adelaide shut her eyes and sent a prayer to whatever all-powerful being may be out there, then let go of Ian's jacket.  

She only fell a couple inches, but that brief moment in the air had her limbs flailing. She landed in Ellie’s palm with a light “oof”. The first thing she registered was how soft Ellie’s hands were, especially compared to Ian’s. Then the shock set in.  

Nobody was sure what to do next. Ian was breathing heavily on the camera, almost definitely trying to annoy whoever was on the other side into doing something. Alan was still searching for the T-Rex. Ellie was staring at Adelaide. Adelaide was staring into the void.  

She didn’t like this at all. There was only one person in the world Adelaide trusted to hold her and it was Ian. It would always and only be Ian. Regret filled Adelaide’s mind as she worked through the various things that could go wrong. Ellie didn’t have any experience holding people this small. Adelaide wouldn’t say it out loud, but she was fragile. She was tiny and fragile, and her bones could snap with just one wrong move. She hoped that Ellie understood that to some degree, but she couldn’t count on it.   

“You uh...” Ellie said, not sure how to ask the question. She pointed to her shoulder with her free hand, and Adelaide looked up at her as if she had just realized Ellie was there. Distractedly, Adelaide nodded.  

It was a little (a lot) too fast, but Ellie ferried Adelaide to her shoulder. She swayed when Ellie’s hand came to a stop, then after checking to make sure she was done moving, Adelaide stepped onto her shoulder and quickly sat down.  

Immediately, Adelaide noticed how much smaller Ellie’s shoulders were than Ian’s. She’d have to be much more careful if she planned on staying upright. Ellie’s shirt wasn’t as stiff as Ian’s jacket, but it was stable enough. Adelaide could do this.  

The next thing she noticed was how nice Ellie smelled. It was a warm, fresh scent reminiscent of laundry just pulled out of the dryer. Adelaide tried not to take notice. It felt invasive to point out, even to herself, but she couldn’t help it. She never felt this discomfort around Ian, so she assumed it was the lack of familiarity between the two. Nothing more.  

When Ian was done being a nuisance, he sat back in his seat with a proud smirk on his face. He caught sight of Adelaide on Ellie’s shoulder, and his reaction was priceless, bordering on comical. He looked from Adelaide to his own shoulder and back again, as if expecting there to be two Adelaides. He struggled for words. Eventually, he landed on, “What are you doing?”  

Ian’s voice was harsh and defensive, and Adelaide had never seen him like this. She wasn’t scared, just shocked. It was almost as if he felt protective over her.  

“Just planning for when we inherit the Earth,” Adelaide responded smugly. Ellie laughed, shaking Adelaide a little.  

“Yeah, well...” Ian trailed off, leaning back and looking out the window. He tried to put out an air of indifference, but Adelaide could see right through him, especially with the way his eyes flickered back to her every couple of seconds and his hands fidgeted and drummed in his lap.  

She would have immediately hopped back into Ian’s hands if she could, but he didn’t offer (even though he would, without hesitation, if she asked), and more importantly, her pride wouldn’t let her. Adelaide couldn’t let these giants think she was dependent on Ian, that she would go running back to him any chance she got. No, she was independent and chill and definitely not scared out of her mind to be in someone else’s hands. (Not literally their hands at the moment, thank God.)  

“The Tyrannosaur doesn't obey any set patterns or park schedules. The essence of chaos,” Ian said, looking for something to take his mind off of the situation. If he didn’t find something to distract himself, he would probably end up snatching Adelaide right off Ellie’s shoulder.  

“Here we go,” Adelaide mumbled. Ian was doing what he did best when he was uncomfortable or upset – he was demonstrating how clever he was.  

It was weird, mumbling into another person’s ear. Usually when she did that, Ian was the one who heard. Now, it was unlikely he even knew she spoke from how far away he was and how quiet her voice was. That wasn’t a great feeling.  

“I’m still not clear on chaos,” Ellie said, making conversation.

“You should not have said that,” Adelaide warned, louder this time so that the whole car could hear.  

Ian gave Adelaide a look before he continued. “It simply deals with unpredictability in complex systems. The shorthand is the Butterfly Effect. A butterfly can flap its wings in Peking, and in Central Park, you get rain instead of sunshine,” he explained.  

Ellie waved a hand over her head, indicating that she understood none of what he just said.  

Adelaide didn’t understand. Ellie was smart. She didn’t need anyone, particularly a man, to explain anything to her like this, did she? And Adelaide knew that Ellie knew how arrogant Ian could be. Why would she goad him on?... Unless....she was flirting back at him?  

That didn’t seem right. Adelaide thought Alan and Ellie may have been a thing, but also maybe not. She knew that women liked Ian – he was handsome and charming, but they never stayed because of... well, who he was.  

Sometimes it was incredibly frustrating, having so little contact with anyone. Adelaide never had any friends growing up outside of her parents. Occasionally, borrowers from around the motel would visit with their kids, but that didn’t happen very often. After their capture and the separation of her and her parents, Adelaide moved into Ian’s house, which was decidedly absent of any other borrowers. She had so little socialization, and it really showed in situations like this.  

Ian laughed. “Did I go too fast? I go too fast; I did a fly-by.” He played with her hair as he spoke, which made Adelaide scoff. If it had been on the other side of Ellie’s head, Adelaide would have kicked him.  

“Gimme - gimme that glass of water. We’re gonna conduct an experiment. It should be still. The car’s bouncing up and down, but that’s okay, it’s just an example. Now, put your hand flat like a hieroglyphic. Now, let’s say a drop of water falls on your hand. Which way is the drop going to roll off?” Ian asked.  

“Thumb, I’d say,” Ellie guessed.  

Ian dipped his finger in the water and let a drop fall onto Ellie’s hand. They watched it roll off the thumb.  

Adelaide had seen this before. In fact, Ian had demonstrated this experiment on her, but it went a little differently. She watched it unfold anyway.  

“You know,” Adelaide interjected at some point. “He did this exact same thing with me, and I ended up drenched at the end, so be careful.”  

Ellie laughed, but Ian dipped his fingers in the water again and flicked it at Adelaide. “How’s that for careful?” he teased. Adelaide sputtered, but she was only a little wet. “Stop interrupting,” Ian said, though he didn’t really care.  

Adelaide tried turning it back around on him. “Yeah, nice one. Trying to get back at me - someone who’s small and defenseless I might add - and you end up flicking water at Dr. Sattler’s face, jerk.” She normally didn’t like bringing up her vulnerability, but if she could use it to throw Ian off, it was her duty.  

“Yeah, what the hell?” Ellie agreed playfully.  

He looked at both of them. “....Can I continue?”  

“Be my guest,” Adelaide conceded. “But I don’t want to get wet again. The humidity’s bad enough as it is. I feel like the water in the air is coating my skin.”  

They continued the experiment. Ellie told Alan to watch, but Alan was distracted by something outside the car. It wasn’t something Adelaide could see or make out, so she didn’t really care.  

Ian explained why the water went a different way each time - the amount of blood distending your vessels, imperfections in the skin, etc.  

The last one caught Ellie’s attention. “Imperfections in the skin?” she asked with an offended look.  

“Microscopic, microscopic,” Ian assured her.  

Adelaide’s jaw was basically on the floor, since all she could do was watch this unfold. She’d seen him flirt plenty of times, and each time it was guaranteed to make Adelaide roll her eyes, but something about this was different. Maybe it was his forwardness, maybe she was still mad that he revealed her back on the helicopter then kept her trapped in a pocket. Maybe it was jealousy. That was a new one. But she saw Ian as a friend, maybe an older brother. She was not jealous over him. And if she wasn’t jealous over him, that must have meant she was jealous over...  

Adelaide instantly wanted to be anywhere but Ellie’s shoulder. She became weirdly aware of every little movement she made and how it would be perceived by Ellie. The fresh laundry scent became a little too strong. She fidgeted in place, almost ready to ask Ian to take her back. Luckily, Alan saved her by... exiting the car? Even though it was still moving??  

Ian jumped on the opportunity. “There! Look at this. See? See? I'm right again. Nobody could have predicted that Dr. Grant would suddenly- suddenly jump out of a moving vehicle!”  

Ellie, no longer interested, made a move to follow him, but then remembered Adelaide on her shoulder. She didn’t want to jostle her, so she hesitated. “Um-” Her hands hovered uselessly, waiting for someone to give her some kind of instruction.  

“Here,” Ian said, gently scooping Adelaide into his palms. Once Adelaide was clear, Ellie shot out the driver’s side door, calling after Alan.  

“There’s uh, another example. That’s...that’s chaos theory,” Ian said to nobody in particular.  

Adelaide sat there for a moment, unsure what to say. She was glad to be back in Ian’s hands, but she didn’t expect Ellie to want to dump her so quickly.  

“Can you please stop grabbing me? Or at least ask first?” Adelaide asked, but there was no heart behind her protest.  

“I have been a little bit – little bit grabby, haven’t I?” Ian mused, looking down at her.  

“A little?!” Adelaide blurted, baffled at the understatement.  

“I’m sorry, Della...What do you say, after this tour, you and I, uh, grab - grab some dinner and then go explore on our own? Huh?” he offered. While he spoke, he shed his leather jacket, shifting Adelaide between his hands and jostling her along the way.  

“Sounds like a plan,” Adelaide smiled, steadying herself. Really, she was tired and a little sick of being attached to a Bean for so long, but she couldn’t deny that that sounded like fun. Maybe they’d actually see a dinosaur. Plus, Ian was right, back when he was trying to convince her to come on this trip. How often does a borrower get to explore like this, especially knowing they’re completely safe?  This would benefit both of them, too. Adelaide could get away from everyone else, and Ian could snoop.

“Want to go see what the others are doing?” Ian asked.  

“I feel like we have to,” Adeliade said enthusiastically, surprising herself. She didn’t really want to spend more time with all these giants, but her curiosity got the better of her. What was so interesting that Alan hopped out of a moving vehicle?  Unless Humans did that regularly? Hmm.

During their conversation, the cars rolled to a stop. Ian gave Adelaide a winning smile, one that could convince her to do anything, go on any adventure. And with that, they took off toward the others.  

As they approached, Ian once again placed Adelaide on his shoulder. He preferred to keep his hands free, and she preferred to sit on something that couldn’t suddenly spring closed around her. And she liked the height. Admittedly though, she preferred the stability that his leather jacket offered, and without it she felt a little exposed, but she would never mention that to Ian. If she said something, he’d probably put it back on, and she couldn’t make him do that in such hot weather. She would survive.  

Adelaide heard the others before she saw them. It was something about toxic plants, and she also heard loud, slow, labored breathing.  

When they were finally within view, Adelaide couldn’t believe her eyes. Laying on the ground in front of her was the biggest animal she’d ever seen, at least up close, like it was even bigger than Beans. Its skin was scaly and brown, and it had two massive horns protruding from some kind of frill on its head. Another horn stuck out of its sharp beak, and its eyes were blinking slowly.  

Adelaide, for the second time today, was up close and personal with a real-life dinosaur. Only this one was much, much bigger.  

.

Next

[voxvulgi]

a Hailey starter for @honorhearted​

“Sooo... Umm, you look rather nervous-- but that’s alright! You know, I’m not...judgemental or anything! And I already know you and like you very much, so it’s not likely that we’ll make this weird! I mean, I suppose I’m making it weird by talking about how we’re not going to make it weird-- But this doesn’t have to be different from the times Jace and I visited your home! You’re just getting to know each other a little better! And-- you know, I actually really love hugs! I don’t think I’ve hugged you before, but I supposed if we’re ever gonna hug, now might be the time to do it!”

Hailey may be rambling and sharing her thoughts so openly -- but she was quite nervous herself. She may even be blushing a little. But she knew not to think about it too hard because then it might get truly uncomfortable. So, she flopped onto the bed in one movement, making the wood creak. Only then, did she realise how uncomfortable this dress is. How was she supposed to fall asleep in these clothes? Why was Ben still standing awkwardly? She willed him to lie down. Maybe if she thought about it really hard he was going to at least sit down.

“So, what’s your favourite bird?” she asked him, needing to prompt conversation. Her skin practically itched with it. “Have you ever been hunting???? Is it scary to kill animals????? I think horses are very cute, but I’ve never ridden a horse. It’s kinda mean how we make them carry us everywhere! Imagine if you had to carry me everywhere! Of course, I would never ask you to do that— but it would be fun if you tried to carry me and I tried to carry you! I don’t think I would be able to! I’m not strong enough for that, but you seem strong enough to carry me! It must be weird for you to be carried, though, because it’s always men carrying women, but never women carrying men. Oh, by the way!!! Jace told me you're attending Yale??? What’s it like at university?! I’m not very smart or good at learning things like that, but it seems really interesting!!! Do you have friends there? Do you have study groups???? What is your favourite class? Oh, and your favourite teacher!! I think it’s very telling when you have a favourite teacher because it shows what you value the most! I think, if i had a favourite teacher— I mean, it was only my mother who schooled me, but if there were many teachers and I had one favourite teacher, it would be someone who’s kind and excited to teach!! And it would have to be a fun subject! My brother told me how he studied economics once, and that just seems so boring! I’m glad I’m not in charge of anyone’s finances! It must be really hard for Jace to carry the household on his shoulders after Mother died. But I’ll tell you a secret — my mother was really good at governing a household! Even better than my brother! Like, A MILLION TIMES BETTER! It’s kind of terrifying— the prospect that I would have to exist without him one day. I’m actually afraid that he would be very lonely when I leave. I hope he isn’t lonely.”

Jace was probably not lonely right now, and he would likely not be lonely in the army. She pictured him building friendships with all the other redcoats. He was really good at making friends. Gah, she missed him already! Was she about to cry? She tried not to think about him being in the army. Her vision blurred with tears anyway, so she rubbed her eyes. She was not going to make this awkward for Ben.

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Imagine # 1,041

Pictures NOT mine.

Year posted - 2023

*Based on this post. Feel free to imagine whatever era (age) Henry is in this one, I never specify his age or yours for that matter. Enjoy!

Walking into the house (Y/n) carelessly tossed her bag on the floor by the front door. She then walked sluggishly into the living room where Henry was reading in the recliner. "Hey babe." He greeted her with a small smile, which faded when (Y/n) merely grunted in acknowledgement, before flopping face first onto the couch. "Rough day?" He asked as he sat his book aside. "Completely shit day." Came her muffled response, making Henry hum in understanding. Without inquiring further Henry made his way to the kitchen, and got to work. All the while (Y/n) continued to lay on the couch, dozing off here and there, though the smell of cooking food kept her from falling into a deep sleep.

By the time Henry had prepared everything and returned to the living room, (Y/n) had begun snuggling with one of the throw pillows. The sight made Henry smile as he sat the items in his hands down. "Come on sweetheart." He called out in a soft tone as he grasped her forearms, gently pulling her up into a sitting position as she huffed out a sigh. "You know I love you right?" He asked as he knelt in front of her in order to look into her eyes. "Of course I know that." Her smile, while genuine, couldn't hide the sadness in her tired eyes. "Good." He mused then grasped her face between his hands. "Because I love you more than I could ever possibly express, you're my soulmate, and my universe." Henry pulled her in for a comforting hug.

"And I'll do anything in my power to not only protect you, but to comfort you, and love you for as long as you want me." He pulled back from the hug, placing a soft kiss against her forehead, before draping her favorite fuzzy blanket around her shoulders. "Forget those assholes, and relax sweetheart, you're a million times better than those assholes anyways." He mused as he passed her the plate with the steaming grilled cheese he had prepared for her. "Thank you Henry." (Y/n) smiled, her eyes a little glossy with emotion. "You're welcome baby, and after you finish your food we'll go take a shower." He brushed her hair back affectionately, smiling at the eager nod of her head. "Awe you even cut it diagonally." (Y/n) cooed as she held up half of her grilled cheese, stray tears slipping from her eyes.

"Well it's nothing to cry over sweetheart." He chuckled as he wiped away her tears, smiling as she nuzzled into his hand. "I can't help it." She murmured before finally taking a bite of her comfort food. "You're precious." He mused before planting another kiss against her forehead. "I'm going to go set out some clothes to change into after our shower, and then I'll gather some cheesy horror movies for us to watch while we cuddle afterwards." He explained as he stood up properly. "I fucking love you." (Y/n) cooed with adoration adorning her face. "I love you more sweetheart." Henry winked before walking off to do as he said, chuckling when she hollered after him. "IMPOSSIBLE!"

*I know I know... I've been AFK for a while now, things have been kinda heavy at home... I'm going to make a post talking about it later.

[destinyc1020]

Whew chiiiile the meltdowns online over Timothée and Kylie lol!! 🤣

Oh my gosh..... the think pieces.... the dissertations.... the claiming it's just "PR" (sound familiar? 😏) because B&A "flopped" lol..... the declarations of cancelations. 😂

Lawwwwd.... LOL.... idk what's funnier and more intense.... The meltdowns over Timothée and Kylie, or the meltdowns over Chris Evans and his boo thing RIGHT AFTER he was named "People's Sexiest Man Alive" rofl 🤣 😂

Look ladies (Timmy fans) lol... You all don't HAVE to like who your fave is dating lol. You think I like Austin with Kaia lol? 😂 Especially with that Crawford family? NO!!! You think I like Chris with his Child Bride? NO!! 🤣

But you have to just RESPECT who your fave has chosen to date at the moment, and just let them live their life. If she makes him happy, then so be it! 🤷🏾‍♀️ You want your faves to be happy right? 😄

Most of these relationships don't last anyway 😆 Y'all HONESTLY think Timmy and Kylie are end game? Let's be real lol... 😏

I don't think they're PR honestly....I just think they like each other and are possibly exploring smthg, that's all. 🤷🏾‍♀️ Sometimes ppl in Hollywood simply date each other just cuz there's a spark or an attraction btwn them..... a lot of times it's really not that deep y'all lol.😂 Sometimes it's just hookups or even just a fling.

Believe me... You'll know when it's "serious" when it starts getting into Tomdaya territory and they've been dating for longer than a few months (or a few years) lol. 🤭

But in the meantime.... if you're only liking your fave because he's SINGLE... are you really a fan of his? Or were you just a fan cuz he seemed single and attainable? 🤔 Serious question. Think about that for a second...

Trust me, I don't care for the KarJenner clan either 🥴 (believe me), and I never in a million years imagined this pairing happening until the rumors started leaking out. 👀 They were NOT on my Bingo card lol! 😄 But I won't judge him for choosing to spend time w/her since I don't know her personally (maybe she's sweet?) and he knows her way better than I do. 🤷🏾‍♀️

He's been an "eligible bachelor" for a while now... Let him have some fun or a rlshp with a woman who makes him happy for a little while. 🙂

Anyway... dry your tears ladies.... and just suck it up, and let this little "situationship" (lol) run its course. 😄

Again, you do not have to like who he's dating, but don't just swear him off now cuz of Kylie when you were just a fan of his the other day before this news came out lol. 😄

Just respect it and KIM. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Like I said, I doubt they're "endgame" lol. Most of these rlshps aren't. You'll know the difference when a rlshp has real longevity potential. 😏

[taleasnewastime]

Dating advice | Part ten

Summary: It’s been months – ok, it’s been years – since you last went on a date. And you’re sick of it. Sick of seeing couples kissing and holding hands in the street. Sick of your friends settling down. Sick of everyone buying houses and having families. You’re going to do something about it. You’re going to snap up a man, you’re going to tie someone down, you’re going to finally commit, you’re going to – you’re going to need a bit of advice.

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: fluff; angst; smut

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, reader gets angry, swearing, low self-esteem, angst, awkwardness.

Authors Note: … It’s a big turning point …

Previous | Next | Series masterlist

“And then she leaned over and said that’s never happened before.”

Erik lets out a massive belly laugh, his eyes closing, his head flopping back. You can see his whole chest rising and falling through his shirt.

You don’t find it as funny, but you still force out a small laugh. The sound so low over Erik’s laugh and the background noise in the bar that he probably doesn’t even hear it. By the time he’s looking at you again you’re sipping your drink, he doesn’t seem to read the fact you didn’t find the story funny, or at least doesn’t care.

“How’s the drink? Better than your last?”

His smile is large, kind, makes him look incredibly handsome and yet even while it’s all directed at you, it does nothing to you. Not flutter in your chest, no heating of your face, no desire to shy away from him. Still, you smile back, look down at the half gone pink drink in front of you. It’s your second drink, a French martini.

“It’s my favourite drink, and they haven’t disappointed.”

“Your favourite, huh? I’ll have to make a note.”

You give him another small smile. There’s a beat of silence, not awkward, but you realise he’s leaving it open for you to say something.

“Oh, what’s yours?”

“Probably whiskey.”

Of course. “Ever been to a distillery?”

“No, can’t say I have. Would love to though.”

“Yeah, I’d recommend. Some of the good ones are expensive but you walk out feeling tipsy after all the samples. Plus, you get great discount on bottles at the end.”

His lip curls at the edge as if impressed. “Well, maybe an idea for another date?”

“Yeah,” you say lightly.

Why doesn’t the idea excite you? If this was before you would have been jumping in your seat at the prospect. But now, somethings changed. Maybe the fact he ghosted you and is now acting like nothing’s wrong, like that never happened. But you also know it’s something else, because when he mentioned alcohol all you could think of was the pub and when he said it would be a good date, that you should go together, all you could think about was how much Yoongi would love it. About how much you would love to go with Yoongi.

Yoongi. He's getting in your head. He’s ruining your date.

“Anyway,” you try to steer conversation onto something safer. “I was listening to a podcast about this Wagatha Christie case on the way here. Are you following it?”

“Oh my god. Who’s not?”

You smile, genuine this time. The way his eyes brighten at the thought of two footballers wives suing each other is a sight to see.

“They were saying Rebekah’s agent lost her phone at sea so they couldn’t search it for evidence. I mean how convenient it that?” You carry on, glad to be on a topic you can both get behind.

“It’s ridiculous. The amount they’re spending on legal fees just because of a tweet.”

“Footballers get paid too much.”

“I always wanted to be a footballer growing up.”

You laugh and Eriks smile brightens at the sound. “Come on. Every boy wants to grow up to be a footballer.”

“Yeah, well, like you said it’s the money and fame. For literally kicking a ball around.”

“Yeah, can’t argue with that logic.”

You finally relax back into your seat, take another sip of your drink before smiling at him.

“Come on then,” you say. “Millions of pounds a week, what would you do with it all?”

“Firstly, take you somewhere better than this shit hole.”

You laugh, roll your eyes. “Real smooth.”

He takes a sip of his drink, his eyes dark as he looks at you. Still nothing stirs inside you. The conversation is easy, you like him enough, he’s hot, maybe you just need a little more time.

The conversation carries on for a couple more drinks before you head home. There’s a couple of awkward pauses at times, but nothing major. It feels the same as the first time you met up with him. Fun and you had a laugh, a nice date.

You both head the same way when you get outside, end up chatting and walking. You don’t think too hard about it, end up subconsciously walking towards your house and Erik just follows along. But as soon as you indicate your place and pause by the door you can’t stop thinking about it. Is it weird he didn’t ask to walk you home, just did?

You stand in silence for a bit, Erik trying not to show that he’s fidgeting on the spot, you trying not to overthink this too much. When you don’t open the door or say anything he speaks up.

“So,” he pauses, looks from you to your door.

“It was a nice night. Thanks for asking me out again. And for the drinks.”

“You know,” his voice has dropped, he leans in a centimetre and your eyes naturally fall to his lips. “It doesn’t have to end here.”

“Oh,” you quickly look back to his eyes then over his shoulder, you don’t want to give him the wrong impression.

Your thoughts immediately go to Yoongi, the fact you never invited him back to yours after your date even though you wanted to, the fact that he warned you not to invite men back inside. And then you catch yourself before you can keep thinking down that trail. It’s not the first time you’ve thought of him tonight, and it annoys you that even when on a date with another man, another very attractive man, you still can’t stop thinking about Yoongi.

Your fingers twitch at your side, your jaw working as you grit your teeth.

“It’s alright,” Erik obviously gets the wrong impression, and when you look back at him, he’s already starting to draw away. “If you’re busy we can do it another time.”

He’s giving you an out, you know. He’s misread your annoyance for nerves and has taken it upon himself to retract the invite. Even though he’s got the wrong reason, you gratefully leap on the excuse.

“Sorry, I’m just tired.”

He smiles, nods, and you don’t miss the way his eyes flick to your lips. More annoyance flares within you, a perfectly hot man, clearly wanting to kiss you and yet you’re pushing him away.

“I’ll text you,” he says.

You don’t even make a joke about how that’s what he said last time and yet it took him weeks to do just that. Just wave him off, mind slowly whirling with anger, building up and up into a storm.

It’s ever since you went on that date with Yoongi, he was supposed to be doing it to help you and yet he’s seemed to make you more undatable. He’s constantly on your mind, even when you’re with someone else you can’t stop thinking of him, comparing your date to his. And then that piece of advice, don’t invite any men back to your place, why did he have to plant that in your mind? Why did you have to follow it?

You become more and more irrational until you decide that the only thing to do is go and have it out with him. As if he’s personally sabotaged your date. As if by going and shouting at him will make anything better.

You don’t care. Reason doesn’t come into it. You need to let this anger out at something.

You storm into the pub, are a little annoyed that the door has one of the jams on it which means you can’t slam it shut. But never mind, because as soon as you spot Yoongi your gaze becomes like a tunnel.

He spots you when you’re halfway too him and despite the fact that you must have a face like thunder, he still smiles. You try not to let the way his eyes brighten at seeing you stop your anger. But it’s tough. That cute round face, those dark eyes, his cheeks lifting as his lips curl up. The pure delight in his face at seeing you. And then the realisation that you don’t look happy, that you are in fact storming towards him. His smiles dips and something flashes in his eyes.

“Hey, everything –”

“Your advice is shit,” you cut him off.

“Ok,” he elongates the word, clearly confused.

“Did you say it because you knew it would get in my head? Is that why you did all of this? Am I joke to you?”

“I’m not –”

“It’s that, isn’t it? You saw me that first day and thought you could have some fun.”

“I don’t know what you’re –”

“It wasn’t pity at all was it? Have you been mocking me this entire time?”

“Y/N.”

“Having a good laugh behind my back?”

“Y/N,” he repeats your name, his voice level, his face flat. But you’re on a roll, are deaf to what he’s trying to say. You don’t even fully know what you’re saying, are so worked up that you’re just spouting whatever words come out of your mouth, half of it rubbish, most of it you don’t believe.

“I mean, I don’t know why I listened to you in the first place. I’m a grown woman, I should be able to make my own decisions not just listen to yours. I just can’t believe –”

You finally pause when Yoongi takes a step away from you. You look at his retreating figure about to shout after him before he speaks.

“Priya, you alright to cover me for a bit?”

Your eyes glance to Priya and your heart drops, you’ve never seen the look on her face. Sadness and then such anger when she looks at you. You look back at Yoongi and watch as he continues to walk away. When you speak again your words come out softer and less sure.

“Hey, where are you going?”

He pauses, back still to you and then twists. His features are dark, his mouth a tight line. He doesn’t look happy.

“Believe it or not, I’m not about to stand around in my own pub and be shouted at,” he turns back away from you. “Now, you can either come with me or get out.”

You glance back to Priya who gives you the barest hint that she thinks you should follow him, even then she rolls her eyes at the idiot you are.

As Yoongi slips through the door to the back you make your decision and slip behind the bar. Half jog to follow him, eyes doing a quick glance of the room realising that though it’s not busy, everyone has just watched what’s unfolded.

Ducking your head in shame you head into the back. Think you hear Priya mutter something about how you should be treating him how he deserves and not abusing him. Your shame only deepens. Part of you wants to run away, but you continue to follow; you’re not about to run away from this colossal mess you’ve created.

You’ve never been back here before. A hall with doors leading off, you’re sure one’s to the cellar he took a picture of for you and as you head down the hall you see that the one that’s been left a jar has stairs. You catch Yoongi at the top just before he disappears behind another door at the top.

His flat is not what you expected. You expected dark and moody colours, little to no decorations. But what you find is a bright space, a large comfy sofa facing a large TV. Walls of bookshelves, littered with photo frames and well-read books. There’s a small kitchen at the back of the room, partitioned off by a breakfast island. The space is homely, lived in while also being incredibly clean, not a thing out of place, and not a spot of dust.

And then there’s Yoongi. Stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, face broody as he watches you take in his home.

Even if it wasn’t for the shock of coming up here and seeing all of this, the fight would have already seeped out of you. The short walk here and the looks of disapproval from everyone doing enough to make you realise what a mistake you’ve made.

It’s not Yoongi you’re annoyed at, it’s yourself. And yet you were so caught up in yourself that you came here and took it all out on him.

You are well and truly messing this up.

“I’m sorry,” you start. “I – that – downstairs.”

You take a breath. Yoongi lets you have the time to stop and start again.

“My heads all over the place, and that’s not an excuse. But, I went on a date today and I couldn’t even invite the guy inside my house. He obviously wanted to come in and I said no.”

“And that’s my fault?”

“You told me not to invite anyone back to mine.”

He rolls his eyes, this apology isn’t going very well. His arms remain crossed over his chest, his stance defensive, but he seems to relax a little, as if amused by what you’re saying. It only irks you more.

“It’s not like I forced you. I didn’t stand guard outside your house stopping rouge men from coming in.”

“No,” you huff. “You didn’t”

“So you’re pissed I recommended you do something, and because you did what I suggested?”

You work your jaw, unable to meet his eyes, especially now he has a wider, more obvious, smile on his face.

“You’re right,” you say feeling completely deflated. “I shouldn’t have come.”

Still, you don’t move and Yoongi doesn’t confirm that he agrees with what you’ve said, that he too thinks you should go. You both just stay standing facing each other.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat.

“It was pretty shitty.”

“More really shitty,” you correct him.

“In my own pub too,” he continues to dig, the smile still on his face despite his words.

“I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

You do. It was him, in your mind, which is why you took it out on him. And staring at him now, you feel like you’re cracking at the seams. All this built-up emotion starting to spill out at the seams.

“Maybe I should leave,” your voice comes out hoarser now, the smile dipping on Yoongi’s face. “I mean, I’ve been a complete bitch, treated you like shit – I can’t just stand here, in your flat and pretend it’s ok.”

“Hey,” Yoongi takes a step towards you, his arms dropping to his side. “You’ve apologised.”

“And yet it doesn’t feel like that’s enough.”

“I accept it.”

You pause. He sounds genuine, looks genuine. Yet you still feel so guilty.

You shake your head, eyes flick to the sofa and while you’ve said twice now that you’re going to leave, you slowly move towards it and take a seat. Your head goes into your hands, so you feel rather than see Yoongi come to sit next to you, the cushions dipping down with the extra weight.

“You’re too nice to me.”

“Maybe I’m just nice,” you can still hear the joke in his voice even though it comes out quieter, softer.

You shake your head again, still unable to look up from your hands. You flinch when a hand comes to your back, the contact so delicate you weren’t expecting it. To your relief Yoongi only draws away for a beat before placing his hand on your back just as delicately. When you don’t flinch a second time, he must decide it’s ok to keep it there.

“What’s this really about?” He asks, his hand rubbing soothingly on your back.

How is he always able to read what’s really going on? It’s like a blessing and a curse. You feel embarrassed by the reason, feel like you’ve really built it up and if you tell him the truth it’s going to make it that much more ridiculous. But you’ve never imagined Yoongi laughing when you think about telling him your feelings. He may not return them, but he wouldn’t shoot you down for your own.

You take a breath, sit up straighter so your head is no longer resting in your hands. Your heart is beating a mile a minute and with Yoongi’s hand still on your back you’re surprised he hasn’t expressed his concerns.

In the second or two it takes you to sit straight, you mentally prepare to look at Yoongi. Still the concern etched on his features doesn’t make anything better. You remind yourself of what you thought earlier; don’t run away from this problem.

“It’s not that serious,” you try to lighten the mood even though your smile is forced, and your words feel heavy. “I haven’t killed anyone or anything.”

Yoongi doesn’t crack a smile, just stares you down with those soul eating, yet still soft, eyes.

You feel sweaty, feel like you want to bolt out of this situation, feel like you would literally rather be swimming with sharks then say what you’re about to say. But you try not to overthink it, try not to think of the what ifs and buts. If you truly care about this man, if you truly have feelings for him, then you need to say something.

“I like you,” your voice husky and weak.

You clear your throat, eyes drift and snap back to Yoongi as if unsure where to look, too scared to look at him but feel like you need to say this directly at him. When you speak again it’s clearer and more convincing.

“I don’t mean in the same way I like Priya or Jimin. I mean, I like talking to you, I liked our date together, I like your smile and your hair and I don’t know, I like you. And you don’t have to say you feel the same way, I know the date wasn’t really a date, but I can’t get you out of my head and it’s driving me insane – which you clearly saw tonight.” You pause, take a breath, and then say, “I really like you, Yoongi.”

[theveryworstthing]

So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class.  I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got  natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace.  I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.  

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway.  This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

[keijislove]

Hi babe! I was wondering if I could request a Tony Stark x daughter reader? With lots of angst and her being locked in her room because she’s being bullied for her darker skin

(I understand if you’re not comfortable with this)

Safe Place: Tony Stark X Daughter!Reader

I think this turned out a bit longer than I expected.

Sorry :(

I hope you like this, I don’t really have a lot of experience with this matter, so I hope I captured the emotions right!

I AM APOLOGISING IN ADVANCE, THE HURTFUL COMMENTS MENTIONED HERE ARE NOT ONES I WOULD EVER USE IN MY LIFETIME.

GIRL, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL JUST THE WAY YOU ARE – YOU DON’T NEED DIMWITS LIKE RACISTS TO DEFINE BEAUTY. YOU WANT THE DEFINITION OF BEAUTY, GO LOOK IN THE MIRROR.

PUT A STOP TO RACISM.

WARNINGS: Slight EXTREMELY racial comments, mentions of death, toxic relationship, angst, Tony being a little... well, Tony.

Being Tony Stark’s daughter was nearly everyone’s dream. Well, everyone you’d come across at school, anyway. It seemed rational from their point of view – big house, big bedroom, expensive branded clothing, basically an overall exquisite lifestyle coupled with fame of being his daughter which was sure to earn popularity points anywhere and everywhere. A man rolling in that amount of money would make a great dad... right?

You thought differently. Which was one of the main reasons you did not tell anyone who your father really was and your teachers understood your predicament and played along to your story of being an ordinary girl with no scope for coolness whatsoever.

Your mother had met your father a long, long time ago – when Tony was still in university. Of course, he’d left her before he even knew she was pregnant, and they never saw each other again. You didn’t exactly love your life as his daughter. In fact, from what your mother had told you, he was (in your vision) a complete monster whom your mother had the sad misfortune to meet.

It was her untimely death that had forced you to go live with the man who was the reason you were born and the man who ruthlessly left your mother to fend for herself and a baby. You had tried for foster care, but the agents told you that your father was still alive and more than capable of taking care of you – being the famous Tony Stark and all.

So it would suffice to say that Tony was lowkey shocked when you turned up at his doorstep one day with a grudging expression and declarations of being his daughter. He actually didn’t believe you at first and asked you to piss off which confirmed your earlier assumptions about his character – asshole. After you’d snapped at him and showed him all the legal documentations stating that you two were blood-related as father-daughter after all, Tony was even more shocked than earlier.

Though he would rather die than admit it, he felt sad after seeing your fourteen-year-old self standing at his doorstep. He’d missed your birth, your first steps, your first words, he even missed helping you with homework in preschool – basically all precious moments you enjoy with a child. But you made it pretty clear that you didn’t want to be here – something that made Tony’s already overlarge pride swell like a bullfrog and stopped him from ever getting close to you. While you were busy thinking he didn’t want you, you overlooked a small detail – he took you in.

If anyone had the power to bribe an adoption agency to get rid of their kid, it was Anthony Stark, yet he never gave you away. The simple explanation (that he would never, in a million years, admit it to you) was that he didn’t want to lose you – around the only blood-related family he had left.

And so began your life as Y/N Stark. It functioned surprisingly well for your expectations. Pepper was really nice to you and those few occasions when the Avengers came over, you were able to talk to Natasha about ‘girl things’, her presence reminding you of the mother you had lost only too young. You sometimes even asked Bruce for help with homework, too proud yourself to go to Tony. Overall, you stayed out of his way while he stayed out of yours – an arrangement you were both satisfied with.

The worst part was that you never talked. Ever. You would wake up and walk to school, refusing Jarvis’ continued protests of letting you use the self-driving car, came home the same way where you did your homework and grabbed a snack before you ‘father’ came back upstairs from his little man cave in the basement and a small ‘good-evening’ passed between you two as you went your separate ways. This cycle repeated itself every day. Recently, your life at school hadn’t been going great.

You’d known that your skin tone was a notch darker than the others at your school – something you had gotten from your mother – and this was not something you really cared about. That’s when they started coming – the comments. What were originally small, snide retorts of ‘wash your face, ew!’ (A/N: I AM SO SORRY) had now escalated to them calling you obscene names you’d never heard before and asking you to leave ‘their’ school

Which was why, instead of being at school today, you were locked in your bedroom, sobbing into your pillow.

It had started out as a very unusual morning. After getting comments hurled at you left right and centre the previous day, you’d had enough. You’d woken up and declared to Jarvis that you were skipping school and he was to, under no circumstances, notify your father about this. After that you tried to eat some cereal, but the bubbling dread in your stomach made it taste like dry carpet, so you gave up and stomped into your room, locking the door before flinging yourself onto the bed and crying your heart out.

It was in times like these that you felt the need for something – a gaping hole in your chest. It seemed foolish to even admit it to yourself, but you really wanted someone like a parent. Someone who listened to your problems and comforted you accordingly, someone who actually cared about you. And since Tony Stark filled neither of these requirements, you gave up the foolish dream and sunk, once again, into your self-fashioned depths of misery.

-------

Tony casually sipped on his wine, putting one last screw into place to make the latest piece he was testing out. As he powered the device on, it vibrated for a moment before the words ‘model failed’ appeared on the screen Tony was examining.

He swore loudly and shoved it ungracefully aside before running his hands through his hair. There had been many an occasion where Tony seriously considered going to your room to just say something to you that wasn’t a monotonous ‘good evening’ or ‘the milk’s finished’ or something else like that. He wanted to talk to you. To you.

He wanted to get to know the real Y/N – what you were like when you weren’t too busy being bold and refusing to appear vulnerable. As if reading his thoughts, Jarvis’ voice filled the room suddenly.

“Sir, I do believe that Ms Stark is currently locked inside her bedroom. She refused to go to school just this morning.”

“What?” Tony exclaimed, “Why, did she tell you anything else?”

“Just this, Sir, along with a few obscene warnings of not informing you about this occurrence. If I recall correctly, Ms Stark told me she would rip out my sockets with her bare hands had I come to you.”

Ignoring the small smirk that was growing on his lips at the thought of you behaving exactly as he would, Tony wiped his tired hands on a nearby cloth before sprinting out the door and up the stairs to your bedroom.

He knocked on the door.

“Go away Pepper, not in the mood,” came your muffled voice. It was weak and raw – evidently, you had been crying.

Ignoring the poking feeling of dread bubbling in his stomach, Tony knocked again.

“Open up, kid, it’s me,” he shouted.

“Definitely not in the mood, thanks.”

Tony sighed. This was exactly what he had tried so hard to avoid –turning out like his own father. Not knowing how to deal with a daughter properly, he just let you go about your business as you wanted, hoping that it would yield better results than what his childhood had been like. Now, looking back at how much he’d neglected you, he suddenly realised that he had done the exact thing he was afraid of – hurt you.

“Y/N Y/M/N Stark, open the door. Please.”

Perhaps it was the please at the end or the way he acknowledged you as his living, breathing daughter for the first time that made you stagger limply over to the door and push it open.

Your eyes were puffy, red and swollen from bawling nonstop and your brows were knitted into a disapproving frown. It broke Tony’s heart to see you like this.

“Listening,” you sniffed, crossing your arms.

“Okay, why don’t you sit down,” Tony frowned slightly.

You gave another hearty sniff and led him to your bed where you flopped down and watched as he took a seat beside you.

You both sat in a very painful, deafening silence for the next few minutes.

“You didn’t go to school today,” Tony casually remarked as you played with your pillow, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I did,” you said simply.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” Tony offered.

“I really don’t,” you admitted as he burst out laughing and you gave a grudging giggle despite yourself.

“Seriously, kid,” Tony said in an undertone, “You’ve gotta open up a bit more. I mean, it’s been like what, two years since you moved here and you never bother telling me what’s going on. And look where that got you – come on, tell me what’s going on. Is it school?”

“Partially,” you quietly said to which he cocked an eyebrow.

“Completely,” you amended, sighing, “Kids, you know, they’re just being – well, mean.”

“Okay,” Tony nodded slightly, “You want to talk about it?”

“They... they make fun of me,” you admitted, “About – about my skin colour and stuff. And I know I’m being stupid, getting upset over this –”

“It’s not stupid,” Tony broke in, “It’s not stupid at all. Nothing gives anyone a right to talk to you that way.”

“Try telling that to them!” you burst out, final letting go of the pent-up emotions you’d been holding for days, “What did I ever do to them – it’s not my fault I look like this, maybe if I could choose what to look like, I’d choose something they want! Just about everyone seems to have a problem – what the hell do they expect me to do? It’s unjust, unfair, unsettling and unkind, but of course they don’t care, do they?!”

Tony didn’t even flinch throughout your entire outburst until you broke down and tears began rapidly pouring out of your eyes once more.

“Hey, hey, stop, listen to me,” Tony sternly said, seizing your shoulders and turning you to face him.

“You’re a Stark,” he said, gazing you dead in the eyes, “You are beautiful, you’re smart and you’re kind. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

This was too much for you to handle and you started sobbing again – sobs of partial happiness and partial guilt that didn’t look like they would stop anytime soon.

“Come here, kid,” was all Tony could say as he pulled you into a hug, allowing you to sob into his shirt while he stroked your hair, trying to calm you down.

“I’m sorry if I’ve ever been mean to you,” you whispered finally.

“It’s okay, kid,” Tony murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I’m sorry I haven’t been a great father all this time.”

You two sat in a now comfortable silence, occasionally clearing your throats or sniffling a bit before Tony finally spoke.

“If anyone says that to you again, I will have them cut up and fed to the fish in my house in Malibu.”

“Thanks, dad.”