#but the models look lifeless

[climbdraws]

my exact thoughts on disenchanted

[cyphyra]

finished all the shrines in TotK during DnD tonight and im mildly disappointed by the reward armor at the end :(

[smilepebble]

this might be a slightly controversial opinion but sword and shield had the best look out of all of the 3D main series pokemon games

[feline-insolitum]

i was gonna put this on a reblog to this post but i decided it needed to be its own post so here we go

LOOK AT HIM!!!

most other trainers will be super badass or cool whenever theyre terastallizing their pokemon. but kieran just kinda stands there devoid of life. he looks like hes not even there. almost like he's just... dissociating through the whole thing

you can also see eyebags that his teal mask model didn't have. he's been working himself to the absolute bone to get stronger. another character (i forget who) even says hes been sacrificing sleep just to get stronger. its very obviously been taking a toll on him

but looking back on the battle as a whole, this wasnt even the only time where he looked dull and lifeless. for the entire battle, when hes not being dramatic on purpose, he just looks so out of it

you cant look at these pictures and tell me hes mentally present. the left picture isnt even timed to make him look like that. his expression is like that the entire time hes giving that line of dialogue.

and again, you can see visible eyebags!!!

i think part of it is that hes imagined the battle against the protagonist so many times since getting back from kitakami that it's feels like it's already happened to him, and he's just reliving a memory.

maybe another part is since hes gotten back, hes just been battling non stop when he has the chance. to him its just another battle. initiate, defeat, get stronger. rinse and repeat. its so repetitive that half the time he doesnt even know who hes battling. i feel like thats the case here, maybe sometimes he forgets hes even battling the person that he became this strong to defeat in the first place

i think why he did this to himself is because of more than "just getting stronger". after everything that happened in kitakami: gaining a friend, only for them to lie to and betray him about the thing he loves most, then for them to get closer with his sister, who would consistently shut him down, then on top of it all, ogerpon chose us, and even in trying to battle us for her, we beat him.

that is a lot to have happen to you in just a couple days, so i think part of the non stop training is him trying to cope. in trying to make up for "being too weak", hes also trying to escape reality and forget that those things even happened. he looks so out of it for the entire battle because he is. thats why he has such a reaction when we use ogerpon against him in battle. because by doing that, were reminding him

this is all part of why he freaks out so hard when we beat him. aside from his whole complex of getting stronger specifically to beat us, its because hes already imagined beating us so many times that to him, it already kinda happened in his sleep deprived mind. its because hes won battle after battle since getting back from kitakami, so after being in this rinse and repeat cycle of battling and winning, us losing causes him to finally snap out of it.

after the protag wins, hes genuinely confused that he lost. but he knew how strong the protag was going into this. i think its because, for the majority of the battle, due to not being mentally present, he forgot he was battling us.

this, as well as how often he wouldve imagined him beating us, explains very well how surprised and shocked and panicked he is that he lost. "this wasnt supposed to happen" because it was just another battle, and he wins battles. "this wasnt supposed to happen" because he already imagined him beating us so many times that it had to have been real, right?

and because this monotonous cycle he was in that was actively draining him of energy was broken by us beating him, everything that he hadnt had the energy to process since training is hitting him like a truck now. ogerpon, the betrayal, how he kept losing to us, how he just lost to us right this moment, its all too much and he cant handle it. and so he crumples to the ground and has a mental breakdown

i didnt mean to turn this into a whole character analysis on kieran but i have a LOT of thoughts on his character and how hes written

[solemnarration]

𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍? | prologue

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: art donaldson x female!reader x patrick zweig 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’ve always been content being second place to your best friend tashi duncan, waiting for the day you can quit tennis. your world is upended when you meet art and patrick, and you’re forced to embrace a life in the sport you’ve been too afraid to claim for yourself. 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): bad relationship with controlling mother, use of y/n 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 605 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: y/i stands for your initial since your and tashi’s nicknames for each other are the initial of your first name. this prologue is a quick intro to the reader and her relationship to tennis and tashi. more to come very soon, i hope you enjoy xx 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐃𝐀𝐋𝐄, 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊 – 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟗, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟗

The last thing you expected was to get a text from Tashi Duncan asking you to meet at her hotel during the Phil’s Tire Town ATP Challenger in New Rochelle. Four weeks from the 2019 US Open and your attempt at winning your 20th Grand Slam title, the woman who used to be like your sister wasn’t on your mind. Even though you liked to think you’d moved on from the tumultuous relationships that plagued your teens and twenties, one text from Tashi was all it took to throw you off your game at practice that day.

UNKNOWN: I need to see you. New Rochelle Ritz-Carlton lobby, tonight. -T

You had to laugh at the universe’s sense of humour. 

Tashi was practically around the corner. You’d been raised in the affluent and perfectly manicured town of Scarsdale, New York, in a lifeless estate your mother earned with her illustrious tennis career. You hated every second of it growing up. Ever since you could remember, you promised you wouldn’t end up there. Yet here you were on the estate that your career-long endorsement from Nike practically signed the cheque for. It had a private tennis court where your father now coached you and was, coincidentally, ten minutes away from your former best friend’s hotel. 

You didn’t owe it to Tashi to come see her. 

After all, she was the one whose venomous words had cut the ties of your friendship in the first place. But that was after Art and Patrick. Your lives had been so different before that fateful night you first met the pair of best friends. You agreed to meet Tashi for the sake of a friendship that used to be the only important thing in your life.

Y/N: I’ll be there at 8pm if you come alone

Her reply came seconds later as if she was sitting by the phone waiting to hear from you.

TASHI: Thank you, Y/I. I’ll leave your name at the reception.

In your earliest memories, your hair is tied out of your face, your tennis shoes are laced tightly, and you’re staring up at your mother as she corrects your posture. You’re holding a Wilson tennis racket, a children’s version of the same model your mother used at Grand Slams in the 70s, and holding back tears. You couldn’t have been older than five, and your future was written for you. 

Your tennis coaches emphasised to your mother that this stage of tennis training was essential to making the sport fun and fostering a love for the game, and she’d ignore their advice.

The first time tennis was fun for you was when you were fourteen years old, and you played a girl named Tashi Duncan at a tennis club match for girls. Her backhand was like thunder, and for once, you forgot all of your mother’s perfectionistic laments and realised how exciting the game could be when your opponent truly loved the sport. When you won the match, Tashi looked windswept and stunned. While you expected her to give you a reluctant handshake before rushing off to regroup with her coach, fourteen-year-old Tashi Duncan had given you a hug and asked to exchange numbers.

��I’ve never played with another real tennis player before,” Tashi gushed when you typed your number into her phone. “I can tell you actually understand the game. I look forward to battling it out with you again.”

Neither of you realised that most of your battles would play out off the court or that they’d hurt far more than losing a game of tennis.

[ur-local-anti-hero]

Speak now

James Potter x Malfoy!Reader

Summary: If the marauders are against something, its agaisnt pureblood families ideologies. Sometimes that implies to wreak havoc on a white veil occasion.

Genre: Hurt/comfort, Fluff and a tiny bit of Angst. Arranged Marriage

CW: Forced Marriage, Familiar problems, talks about blood purity and blood traitors. Breaking into a weddig idk.

Word count: 2.2K

This is part of my Speak Now (Marauders’ version) collection 

“So don't say yes, run away now. I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door.

Don't wait, or say a single vow. You need to hear me out”

When you were younger you saw a fair amount of weddings. They were always presented to you as big emotional events in which two people promised eternal love to each other. 

Even when you didn't know anything about love as a kid, it was no wonder that you yearned to have your own wedding once you grew up. It was a dream to have your own white dress, a beautifully decorated venue and a partner you loved so deeply you’d be willing to spend your whole life with them. 

Looking back maybe you should’ve known better. The first sign should’ve been your surname. A Malfoy has expectations they have to meet, keeping the bloodline pure, for starters. 

The second one should’ve been your parents’ loveless marriage, when you were younger you used to wonder why they’d married at all, now it was quite obvious. 

The third and most evident should’ve been when Andromeda Black was disowned. At that time you didn’t truly understand what that entailed, and why it was such a hassle that she wanted to get married. Now you understood that the problem was not the wedding, if not the groom. 

All your fantasies about the commonly named ‘Big day’ were completely shattered when your 18th birthday came, and with it a letter from your parents which contained the name of your soon to be husband. You tried to fight it, which only made your parents move the date of the wedding forward and get you out of Hogwarts, your education didn’t matter anymore to them now that your future as a housewife was inevitable. And being away from Hogwarts also meant being away from the ‘bad influences’ in your life. 

Now the corset of your white dress was suffocating, you felt trapped. Looking at the mirror was like looking at someone else. The girl with lifeless eyes and heavy make-up that couldn’t hide her eyebags was supposed to be you, yet it felt like a perfectly modelated version of yourself, made to impress the high class families attending the wedding. 

Narcissa’s gentle hands were bradding your hair, finishing your look before the wedding. Usually her presence was able to calm you down. Ever since she married your older brother, Lucius, her presence was regular in family gatherings and you’ve always felt some kind of kinship with her, seeking shelter on her whenever the phony and pompous encounters became too overwhelming.

You could attribute your shifted feelings towards her to the fact that she was unknowingly preparing you for eternal misery, or maybe because she was replacing the ones who you would’ve chosen as bridesmaids - there was no place for muggleborns in an event celebrating the union of two pureblood heirs -. Or even because it was her little cousin the one you were to wed. 

“You look beautiful” said Narcissa once she was done with your hair. 

You nodded and gave her a small thank you. However, you disagreed completely, the girl she was looking at was not you, it was your parent’s perfect daughter. 

“You do look lovely, father and mother are going to be delighted” your brother’s voice came from the door, where he was leaning on. “I brought you some company” he gestured behind him. 

Pandora and Dorcas stormed into the room, the former embracing you into a tight hug when they spotted you. Lucius and Narcissa left the room. 

“How are you holding up?” Pandora asked as soon as the door closed behind Lucius and Narcissa. Her arms were still holding you tightly, Dorcas standing behind her. 

You shrugged at her, not being able to talk due the knot in your throat and the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. You kept your eyes glued to the mirror. 

Pandora stepped out of the hug and stood next to Dorcas, who had yet to speak. 

“Evan and Barty are with Regulus, I swear I never thought I would see him in a tux” said Dorcas, trying to make conversation. The thought of Regulus being in the same situation as you didn’t make you feel better, the knot in your throat was getting tighther by the second. You promised to yourself you wouldn’t cry anymore, to be honest you thought you had run out of tears days ago. 

“Sirius is here too” Pandora was trying to distract you from the wedding. If she was being honest with herself there was nothing they could do to make you feel better. But maybe knowing that your best friend was out there could help a little. 

That made you finally look away from the mirror, a small wave of hope cursing through you. If Sirius was here it meant that James could be too. In the eyes of your family his family’s name was not good enough for yours, but maybe it was enough for him to be a guest. 

Maybe it was selfish to wish for him to be there when you knew how much it would hurt him, but you needed to talk to him, he was the only one who could actually comfort you right now, the only presence that would make everything feel normal again. You yearned to feel his touch against your skin and his lips against yours, even if it was for one last time, as a farewell. 

“Is he… Is James here?” you spoke for the first time. 

The answer was clear in the pitiful look they gave you even before Pandora replied with a soft ‘no’. 

You don’t know what did it, if the look in the faces of your friends or the fact that you would never see James again, but tears started rolling down your face. In seconds you were being embraced by Pandora again, and Dorcas’ hand was wiping away your tears. 

“It’s okay, you are going to be okay” Pandora didn’t believe her own words, but there was little she could do to calm you down and you both knew it. 

There was a knock on the door and your dad’s voice came from the other side “Y/N, it’s time” 

Pandora gave you a squeeze before letting you go from the hug. They both left the room, not without giving you a forced smile. 

“Oh, merlin” you said to yourself as soon as you were left alone, going back to the mirror, you wiped the few tears that were left on your face, and tried to fix the smudged make-up around your eyes with your fingers. You didn’t want to give your parents the satisfaction of seeing how much this affected you. 

Once you looked mildly presentable again you exited the room. Your father was waiting for you and he offered you his arm to lead you towards the venue. 

You could see the whole venue from the end of the aisle. The green and black motives contrasted beatifully with the white flowers decorating the aisle and the top of the altar. The guests were placed in black chairs at both ends of the aisle. 

You weren’t brave enough to lift your glaze from the ground, knowning that you wouldn’t see the love of your life waiting for you as you had dreamt since you were a kid. The heavy veil of your dress made your steps slow and lethargic. 

It was not until you were halfway down the aisle that you gathered enough courage to finally look at the man in front of you. Instead of the boy with unruly curly brown hair and eyes filled with love, there standing was Regulus, his black hair slicked back and eyes drowned by the same defeated look you wore. 

Once you reached his side everything went in a blur, all you remember is him taking your hands into his and the officiant talking. 

“If anyone has any objection, speak now or forever hold your peace” 

You were really going insane because you swore you saw James standing at the end of the aisle, wearing a tuxedo and with his hand up in the air. 

“I oppose!” His voice was loud and clear, your eyes widened. 

All the guests' eyes went to his figure and several surprised gasps were heard. Maybe you were not hallucinating. 

───✥───

If Fleamont Potter ever found out how James was using his inherited cloak of invisivility he’d be horrified, or maybe oddly proud of his son. 

Not even James thought he would ever sneak into a highly patrolled wedding on a common Tuesday, but honestly if someone had told him a year ago he’d be doing this he wouldn’t be surprised. 

Sneaking in a wedding filled with pureblood families and slytherin students was the perfect setup for a Marauders prank. However, what would have surprised him would’ve been the reason for interrupting a white veil occasion. Dating a Malfoy was something he hadn’t expected to ever do, but you had gotten past all his defenses with your kind and bright personality that proved to be so different from your family’s pretentious ways. 

Therefore, he was now standing on the aisle you had walked minutes ago. He had a perfect view of you and Regulus from his stance, your white dress was gorgeous, and your hair was neatly done. If it weren’t for your puffy and bloodshot eyes, and the obvious defeated look in your face, a look that had no place in a wedding, he could almost believe this was a normal marriage ceremony. 

When you had received the letter from your parents you had been inconsolable, and rightfully so. James had tried everything to stop the wedding, he even went as far as asking your parents for their blessing and to be the one you'd wed instead of the Black heir. Turned out to be useless as his family had been marked as blood traitors for eternity. 

But James isn't known for giving up easily, and the Marauders were not going to let an opportunity to cause havoc pass by. 

With the promise of being on his best behavior, Sirius had convinced his parents to attend the wedding as a guest, acting as a mole for his friends' plans. Remus and Lily were outside the venue with their ride home -a couple of broomsticks they borrowed from Hogwarts' supply closet. 

And the last part of the plan, and its success rested on James' shoulders. 

The preacher spoke 'Speak now or forever hold your peace' James smirked, that was his cue. It was on. 

James took off his invisibility cloak and without a single trace of shame or shyness in his voice James stated loudly "I oppose!"

James would've loved to stop for a moment to memorize the looks of complete horror in the faces of the guests, but he had to be fast and make total use of the element of surprise. 

Without hesitation James sprinted towards the altar. He could see the way your brother had stood up and pointed his wand at him, his spell being intercepted by Sirius' expelliarmus spell. 

As soon as James made it to the altar chaos erupted from everyone in the venue, he could make out the shouts of your parents and some spells that were being intercepted by yours and James' friends. 

At the sight of James Regulus let your hands go, he raised his arms in defeat and left the altar without much hassle. 

"Gentleman" James greeted Regulus' groomsmen, Barty and Evan who were just as stunned as everyone, all they could do was nod in acknowledgement to James, not even trying to interfere. 

"Hi, love" he was finally looking at you, your eyes were wide with surprise and tears were gathered in your waterline. James took your hands in one of his and the other was raised to stroke your cheek. 

“James what- how-” you were completely astonished, and unable to formulate a single phrase. You knew your boyfriend loved you, and the lengths he would go to prove it, but you would have never guessed he’d be willing to break into your wedding ceremony. He was always proving you wrong. 

“Hey Peter, mate, it’s your moment to shine” Following james’ words a rat came out of his pants’ pocket. 

And suddenly Peter was standing in front of you. He pushed the appalled officiant slightly to the side and took his place. 

Peter cleared his throat before speaking “Do you, James Fleamont Potter, take Y/N Malfoy as your wife?” 

“I do” 

“Do you, Y/N Malfoy, take James Fleamont Potter as your husband?” 

You could hardly mutter a low “I do” before Peter spoke again 

“I declare you husband and wife. You might kiss the bride” 

James didn’t hesitate for a moment. To add dramatism he spun you around and dipped you, holding your weight with his arm. And without waiting for another second he kissed you, sweet and slow, conveying all his love for you with that gesture. 

When you became breathless you broke the kiss and looked at James straight into his beautiful eyes, which only show deep adoration. “I love you” you mouthed to him, which made his eyes sparkle with joy and a wide grin to break into face. 

He took you in his arms bridal style and walked down the aisle. You coudln’t even care about the chaos and spells that were aimed your way, all you could look at was James. 

And as he muttered “I love you too, Miss Potter” you knew he’d do anything to prove his love for you. 

Author's note: This one is of my faves of the collection ngl, James is my soft spot Thank you for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are welcomed and very appreciated. I'd love to hear what you thought about it so don't be shy!! To be part of the taglist Dm me or send me an ask <3 Taglist @feral-posts @izuoyarmin @aremuslupinsim @yourfavgay @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo 

[odysseys-blood]

ik its going to look different but the way the models look in comparison to the art is eugh to me

[xervn]

like a french girl 🎨

part 1 - paint me | part 2 | art major ellie x dance major reader | ellie photo

ao3 link

summary: ellie had been struggling with finding the perfect model for her art final. that was until she saw you.

18+ MDNI | 2.2k words | tags; college au, pining, only a little explicit, no use of y/n, not proofread

disclaimer: not an art or dance major, don't shoot!

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Scribble, scratch, throw. This has been Ellie’s routine since she moved onto campus.

Why? Her professor told her that she draws the human body like it’s lifeless. Ranting about how they’re too one-dimensional and have no depth, her lines are too sharp or not sharp enough; flat and boring in looks and in feeling. 

Now listen, Ellie has nothing against criticism. She respects her professor and she’s aware that her drawings lack “vitality”. It’s been something she’s struggled with for a while now, an effect of some recent events and overall adjusting to college life. 

Ellie isn’t unable to grasp the anatomy of the body, in fact it’s the opposite. She knows the human body is complex and needs thorough observation. The way the sun hits the skin, the hairs on a knuckle, the creases of a smile. Wide, small, big, tall; no two bodies are exactly the same. 

Really, the imagery is so clear to her, but she finds it impossible to transfer the life and motion of the body onto a piece of paper without truly understanding the person. The way she sees it, every body has a story, and in order to make a good piece she needs to know that story.

Since art school is filled to the brim with inspiring, exciting, and vibrant people, she has, of course, tried to talk with them. She attempted to get to know the models, ask them general questions and hope something clicks. Unfortunately, that has yet to happen. She can’t really ask her friends either without it getting awkward. Imagine, “ Oh, hey guys! Can you guys get naked and pose in one spot for my homework?”   Hear how weird that sounds? Even though she’s sure Jesse would definitely be down, she values her eyes.

 Any “muse” she could possibly ever want was right in front of her, so why was it really impossible for her to find one?

 Well, because Ellie didn’t find anyone interesting enough. She’s not shallow or anything, it has nothing to do with how the model looked, Ellie has had several good-looking models. It was more about how she perceived them. It’s just that she hasn’t seen a model that made her ask questions like: “ How’d they get that scar?”  “ What does that tattoo mean?” Stuff like that.

The last interesting model she had was probably a fucking homeless guy she shared a blunt with outside a gas station many moons ago. Till this day, he might be one of her best pieces. There’s not a lot of moments like that here.

Nonetheless, Ellie saw this developing– extremely lame— personal requirement of hers annoying as shit. It’s holding her back big time, but she couldn’t help it even if she really wanted to.

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It’s practically useless to keep trying. The tiny voice in Ellie's head presses her to keep going, keep failing, but enough is enough. She is seriously burnt out and any more of this might kill her. The only thing that could help right now is a meaty slice of pizza and a blunt as soon as she thought of it.

Ellie clears out her desk, knocking the stack of crumpled paper into a conveniently placed trash can; a placement made from her constant trials and errors. She pushes up, and stretches widely, obnoxiously groaning like an old man by the end of it. She quickly tidied herself up, tying up half of her hair into a ponytail and throwing on a dark-green flannel shirt she had to sniff before wearing over her plain white tee. She takes a quick look into her floor-length mirror, making sure she looks presentable before grabbing what she needs to head out.

Just as her hand reached for the silver knob, Ellie felt this overwhelming urge to look back. God, she knows what she is going to look back at, but she really hopes she doesn’t. Unfortunately, her eyes land on her sketchbook, laid flat on the desk underneath a lamp’s warm light. She shouldn’t.

She needs a break. She knows she needs a break, but there is a twinge of hope, faith, lodged somewhere inside her. The same faith that’s kept her from dropping out every day for the past four months. Ellie groans as she drags her feet to her desk where she whisks up the brown book and shoves it in her tote bag with an accompanying pencil. She swivels back to the door and strolls out, silently praying her mood improves in the next hour.

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The cafeteria was surprisingly crowded, but Ellie managed to get her pizza without saying ‘fuck it’ to the line. Still, the thought of eating between this buzzing mess when she was in such a shitty mood turned her off. Thankfully, she knew that everyone would be everywhere but the upstairs balcony, especially during this chilly time of year. No sane person would eat out there, and she’s not particularly sane. Ellie saunters off to the balcony and sits herself at a small table facing the view.

It only took a glance around before she came to the realization that the view is not really a view. There’s only a dorm a few feet away, directly across. It’s a large brick-laid, generic building with wide windows. If it weren’t for the blinds, the view into a room would probably be good enough to read a label on something. Ellie’s freckled face grimaces at the thought, imagining what it’d be like if someone watched her rage as she messed up her homework over and over from this distance. Despite that, she thought it’d probably be a pretty good spot to live in. It’s close to the cafeteria and probably a lot bigger than her 1x1 dorm.

With a twinge of curiosity piquing her mind, Ellie glimpses over the windows, and for the most part, they are all closed.

All closed, but yours.

Yours doesn’t even have blinds. You’re on the 3rd floor and almost completely unobscured in a black camisole, sitting on your questionably roomy windowsill with a leg perched up. Ellie can see the fairy lights strung up in your bedroom, and a line of succulents closer to the window; ordered by size, which she briefly thought was cute. 

You aren’t facing the window, so she can only see your back. What she could see, though, is you doing your hair, occasionally swaying to what she can only imagine is music. Your room is high, but low enough for her to identify you if she had the pleasure of knowing you. Knowing you, reverberates in her head. Does she know you? Has she met you before? Amongst that babble, there is one more question she is slowly trying to gather an answer to. 

Time passes, most definitely shorter than Ellie would have thought passed. Her eyes have been glued on you the whole time, she even forgot about her, now freezing cold, pizza just so she could gawk at you. She still hasn’t seen your face yet, barely even a glimpse, but she already thinks you are stupidly beautiful just by the way you move.

From the graciousness of your movements alone, she thought there was no way in hell you didn’t know she was watching. At some point, your arms got tired, so you smoothly rolled your aching shoulders back; stretching into an arched, effortlessly perfect posture. Ellie’s eyes traced that slight curve of your back as if you’d disappear if she broke off from you.

There is no way it gets better from that, is what she thinks to herself, only to be shut up immediately after when she sees that perfectness of your back stay as you bend over and shift onto both knees to grab something far away, bringing your shorts in view. So short— so tight , they could easily be mistaken for panties. 

It was unexpected to say the least, Ellie could feel her face heating up and had to look around her to see if anyone else could see what she was seeing right now. Ellie wondered about the practicality of those shorts, wondered what exactly they were supposed to cover, leering at the plush of your ass peeking out. She thoughtlessly lets her jaw drop before muttering out a low, impressed, and barely over a whisper, “Well, fuck.”

You must’ve noticed your shorts riding up, since you quickly pulled them down after you grabbed what you wanted. Ellie clears her throat, internally scolding herself for being so gross— so perverted. Her brows furrow in embarrassment from all the dirty thoughts she brewed up in that moment. But for some reason, she still doesn’t look away. Well, there’s a list of reasons for her to look away, but she feels like ignoring it. 

Then a cold gust of wind bites past her face, clearly a sign from the universe that she should snap out of it, and snap out of it she does. 

What the hell happened to her? What is it about you that she keeps leaning into? Suddenly something clicks in her brain. After months of creative agony, something finally clicked. She has sat here completely fascinated by you and she couldn’t tell sooner?

In all honesty, to say she is just “interested” in you would be an understatement. Yeah, now she thinks you’re the perfect model for her final, but she wants to know you beyond just the drawing. A plus is that you just happened to be hot, and Ellie has never been attracted to a subject before, so the whole thing was new and exciting to her. Just the thought of drawing you made her remember why she loved art so much.  Ellie reaches for her tote bag sitting in an empty seat beside her, pulling out her sketchbook with more enthusiasm than she probably ever has. She sets the book down, opening up a blank page with one hand and tightening her grip on her pencil in the other.

She looks back up at your window, ready to sketch your life onto paper and..  Shit. You’re looking back.

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Today has been a good day for you, your teacher chose  you to teach the choreo you’ve been working on for weeks to your classmates. It was an obvious ego booster for you. You felt good and you wanted to look good too, even if you weren’t going out anywhere. It was just one of those nights. You wanted to experiment with your hair, thinking maybe you’ll do something new before your next practice. Dye it, cut it.. something.

It’s been a while since you started, and after several wrist and shoulder cramps, you were finally finished. You take a look into your hand mirror, peering at your reflection. You’re satisfied now, looking exactly how you’re feeling if you minus the dingy sleep clothes you’re in. 

♫ My heart, I never be, I never see, I never know. ♫

Grimes? Really? You pout, upset that your playlist didn’t magically read your mood. What you need is real 2000’s hot girl music. Britney Spears, Nelly Furtado, or Beyoncé for crying out loud.

“Alexa, skip!” You shout across the room, just loud enough for the device to hear. 

The stupid thing doesn’t even light up, so you call out a few more times but to no avail. Isn’t the whole point of that thing to be voice automated? You sigh and look around for your phone, and seeing it’s nowhere in front of you, you figure it’s behind. You twist your torso to find your phone behind you and luckily you do. As you pick it up, you casually glance out the window without any expectations. 

Did you see a figure in the blur as you looked away? You question your eyes, but you decide to take another look and just find out for yourself.

You peer back down and your eyes meet with someone else’s. The sudden eye contact between you and this woman instantly mortified you. Your heart sunk, and all you could do was raise your brows stupidly. She was surprised too, even in the dim light you could see her shocked expression boring back at you. Not only that, it went on for way longer than it should have. Any normal person would’ve looked away, but her eyes lingered on you before she hastily turned away. 

You’ve been sitting here, dressing up your hair, listening to your music without a care in the world. Far too absorbed in yourself to realize there’s someone outside your window. You slide off your windowsill and out of sight. Just as your bottom finally hits the wood floor, you feel the coldness of it against your skin and you’re immediately conscious of the fact that your ass was literally out at some point. 

The poor girl was trying to eat her food and you were bending over in front of your window like a harlot. It certainly didn’t help that she looked kinda hot. Did she? You peeked over your windowsill, hoping to get another look to really assess her hotness, but she was already gone. Whatever, maybe she didn’t see? But she looked embarrassed… embarrassed for you probably!

You hide your face in your hands and topple to the side, letting out a fake sob. Oh, god. You can already imagine Dina’s face when you tell her. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that thought. That was humiliating as shit, but it’s whatever. It’s not like you’ll see her again. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

side note: if you have any tropes you'd like to see w/ this universe pls do drop an ask 🤭

click 4 more!

[mrs-gauche]

Let's talk about the Red Lyrium Idol

(…Because it's not like this thing has been discussed to death over the past ten years, right? 😂 *drops my two cents in the Scrooge McDuck money bin*)

Ah yes… The red lyrium idol. The one thing that's given me a headache since 2018, as I'm still trying to figure out how this damn thing could possibly fit into my bazillion tinfoil theories.

Whether it's the first official DA4 teaser in 2018, the Blue Wraith comic series or the entirety of the last chapter of Tevinter Nights, a lot of the supplementary media and promotional stuff setting up the course for DA4 seems to be centered around the idol. Quite literally, in some cases, like this mural from the first 2018 teaser:

It certainly led us to think that the idol won't just be another McGuffin (or so I hope lol), but other than that, it's still heavely shrouded in mystery…

Which is why I will now make an attempt to unravel this and gather every single bit of information we have on it (so far) and maybe that'll get us closer to some sort of answer in the end (actually, it won't, because this got SO long that I had to split this post in two parts lol No one's going to read all of this anyway 💀)!

Look, I just needed to get this behemoth of a post out before we might get an actual substantial trailer tomorrow and none of this will probably matter anymore. 😂💀

(Note: This whole thing was initially intended to be solely for myself to keep track of any information we've gotten about the idol since DA2. But since it's gotten SO long over the years, I figured why not just rewrite it into a somewhat coherent text and post it on here? :D ......Seriously, it's really, REALLY effing long.)

The Idol's Journey so far

To me, the idol always seemed to be something like "The One Ring" in LOTR. A forged ancient artifact with creepy unknown powers that is said to feel "alive", almost as if it possesses a will of its own, seeing as it has somehow found its way from countless random people, back to (presumably) its former owner. It also appears to be somewhat cursed, given that almost everyone who held it at one point seems to have died or gone mad by now (Yeah, I'm very worried about Varric and Hawke 👀).

Let us start with a quick summary of the journey the idol has made in the span of about 12-13 years (not counting the unknown timespan in which the last chapter of Tevinter Nights takes place):

First discovered by Hawke and Varric in an ancient Thaig in the Deep Roads.

Stolen by Bartrand, who then made a quick trip to Rivain.

Sold to Meredith, who turned it into a sword.

Taken out of Meredith's petrified corpse by Carta dwarves.

Sold again to a Tevinter mage, who brought it to House Qintara in Ventus.

Handed to a secret agent of Fen'Harel named Gaius (who was impersonating Magister Qintara).

Traded away to Tractus Danarius.

Handed to Magister Nenealeus at Castellum Tenebris to be used as part of a ritual.

Picked up by Cedric Marquette after the fortress fell, while trying to escape.

Handed back to Tractus Danarius, who then probably (not confirmed) went to Nevarra to perform another blood magic ritual.

Picked up by a Mortalitasi who (maybe) took it to Tevinter.

(Supposedly!) ended up in a vault under an auction house in Llomerryn in Rivain, where it was (supposedly!) retrieved by Solas.

That's quite the journey… that you wouldn't even know half about if you didn't read the comics or Tevinter Nights. But whereas the book and comics were all published after the first teaser trailer in 2018, after which the idol became the center of the fandom's attention and speculation, it should be noted that a connection to the idol was in fact already made way back in 2014, when people noticed that the image of Solas holding Flemeth's lifeless body at the end of Inquisition was very reminiscent of something else.

...Which brings us to the point of what the idol is even depicting to begin with.

Description

Before I'll start to give my own description based on the models in-game, the teaser and concept art, I'd like to quote the people who've actually seen it in person.

In the last chapter of Tevinter Nights, we are being told three tales by three different people, who all describe the same idol differently.

The Carta Assassin: "A couple hugging, too thin to be dwarves - but it's sitting there, glowing softly like a ruby lit by the grace of the Maker himself. […] It's heavier than you'd think - lyrium's heavier than you'd think, too, but this was heavy even for that. When I hefted it in my hand, it was like it wanted to keep moving, like it was liquid inside."

The Mortalitasi: "An idol crafted from red lyrium, which seemed to show two lovers, or a god mourning her sacrifice. It whispered in our minds when we saw it […]."

The Orlesian Bard/Solas: "He whispered something as he picked it up, tracing his gloved fingers gently along the crowned figure who comforted the other."

The one thing that all of these seem to have in common though is two figures who embrace each other in some way.

Which is interesting, because in all the depictions of the idol we've seen so far, it clearly shows three people instead of two. Granted, the third figure is a bit cramped up in the back of the crowned figure, but what's strange is that not even Solas himself mentions this third figure.

Most notable though is the crowned female looking figure in the center, which is holding onto the two other figures on each side of the ring shaped object (or it's the two figures holding onto the female?). The figures themselves look rather goulish, deadly or skeletal, with their bone structure clearly visible and all their expressions captured in a mix of horror or torment. The small carved-in lines coming from the middle figure's eye sockets also resemble black tears, much like we've seen on "The Mother" in Awakening.

There's also no sign of clothing, which is all the more apparent on the concept art of the idol, in which the breast of the middle figure is.. much more prominent. lol (We don't make fun of saggy boobs in this house, it's just nature and gravity after all, but for the sake of observation, I will note that they do remind me of Broodmother boobs, too 😂), aside from a hint of what could be a veil on the middle figure's head.

At the bottom of the idol, the lower bodies of the figures seem to fully submerge within its name-giving red lyrium and this "claw" type thing, which is coming off in the shape of crystalline red lyrium spikes at the tail end, though in the concept art and the DA2 model, these spikes were clearly more like red lyrium roots. But either way, the bottom makes it kinda look like it's been broken/ripped off?

We can also see tentacle like features, that remind me of the figures we've seen in the mural in the 2020 teaser and the depiction in the 25th anniversary book that revealed to us what the Archdemons were initially supposed to look like. 👀

I'd also like to point out that in the original concept art of the idol, the ears of the crowned figure look much more pointy to me than in later versions. 👀

There's also this "ring", that I've seen many people connect to how the Veil is often portrayed in Solas' murals.

But if this ring is supposed to depict the Veil, then what could it mean for the crowned figure reaching across to hold that ominous third figure on the "other side"?

And yes, I recognize that this ominous third figure also seems to be missing a left arm, just like another certain main character. 👀

The one thing that stands out the most though, is probably the crown itself. Most people might first associate it with Andraste, when the same shape can be traced as far back as ancient statues of Mythal.

Yeah, there's definitely a pattern here. 😂

That being said…

Connection to Mythal & Solas

Okay, we all know about the theory that Andraste might have been Mythal's previous host, right? We all know about the parallels between Mythal's story, Andraste, Flemeth, etc. And after comparing the idol to Flemeth and Meredith in their moment of death, considering all of the above/following and how old this thing potentially is, I will now make a wild guess here and argue that the idol is in fact depicting Mythal's death.

"He whispered something as he picked it up, tracing his gloved fingers gently along the crowned figure who comforted the other. But I could not make out the words, for I fear they were elven."

Not only does Solas seem to hold sentimental value for whoever the crowned figure is supposed to be, while also talking to it in elven, but the way he describes to "caress" the idol in Tevinter Nights does also seem to mirror how Flemythal was comforting him at the end of DAI.

However, I always thought it was a bit odd how Solas describes the idol as "a figure comforting another", when… tbh, "comforting" would probably be last thing that comes to my mind when I look at this...

"Agony" would be more fitting here, maybe? lol Kinda begs the question of how Mythal was murdered, too, with this being her expression in her moment of death? 👀

Without getting too much into it here, if there's one thing we can take from everything we've learned so far about their past, Solas' relationship with Mythal must've been a rather complicated one, to say the least.

"He did not want a body, but she asked him to come. He left a scar when he burned her off his face."

Solas calls Mythal "the best of the elven gods", calling her "the mother, protective and fierce", and Solas is even described in the designer's notes as "Mythal's oldest friend" who is all about free will, yet if the spirit origin theory is true and Cole's cryptic comments in Trespasser are in fact about them, it was Mythal who gave Solas a body against his will, potentially bound/enslaved him with her vallaslin, and maybe even forced him to act against his original purpose?

"You should have seen me when I was younger. Hot-blooded and cocky, always ready to fight."

Cole: "You didn't do it to be right. You did it to save them." Inquisitor: "Solas, what is Cole talking about?" Solas: "A mistake. One of many made by a much younger elf who was certain he knew everything."

How much of what happened was Solas acting out Mythal's will, or rather, acting out of vengeance and pain in reaction to Mythal's death? How much of it was him acting downright impulsive?

Solas: “Cole is a spirit. The death of the real Cole wounded him, perverted him from his purpose. To regain that part of himself, he must forgive.” Varric: “You don’t just forgive someone killing you.” Solas: “You don’t. A spirit can.”

Or was it Mythal's death itself that "wounded him and perverted him from his purpose", just like he described what happened to Cole?

And what does that say about Mythal then, when she clearly hasn't forgiven her murderers and still strives for vengeance after all this time? What if Solas' own perception of Mythal and all the circumstances surrounding her murder is warped because he was once bound to her? 👀

Anyway. To get back to topic.

So if we assume that the idol is in fact depicting Mythal's death, then that brings us to the next question of why the idol is even made of red lyrium? Or rather, what is Mythal's connection to red lyrium?

We know that red lyrium is tainted blood of a Titan. Mythal was the first to kill a Titan and mine their blood for things we won't get into in this post. So, how did the idol end up in the Deep Roads, anyway? How long had it been there? One thing that's kinda strange to me, is how the DA wiki page about the idol says that it was forged by the dwarves, solely based on the fact that it was initially found in the Deep Roads, when we have no actual evidence for that. We've seen statues of both Mythal and the Dread Wolf in the Deep Road section in Trespasser where the mining of lyrium was undergone, but we don't know if the dwarves even had any part in building them as well.

Would the dwarves forge an idol of the elven deity who conquered them and killed their Titan, if they were somehow forced to do so? We also have to remember that dwarves were and still are the only ones able to actually mine raw lyrium safely, but even the Carta dwarves in Tevinter Nights had to take several precautions in order to recover the red lyrium idol from Meredith's corpse. And even then, many of them still fell shaking or went mad in its presence like Bartrand.

So if it only takes that little exposure to have that much of an effect on someone's sanity, how were the ancient dwarves or anyone even able to create it in the first place? What if the idol was initially made of blue lyrium but was then somehow corrupted?

And if we take one moment to really think about what an idol actually is.

"An object representing extreme devotion and religious worship to a god."

While Solas doesn't think of any of the Evanuris as actual gods, he still seems to hold Mythal at such a high regard that he wouldn't even speak of her at a sacred place like the Temple of Mythal (whether or not that was because he just wanted to withhold any secret ancient knowledge). He's able to fully recite the invocation to Mythal if you bring him with you to her altar. He also looks exactly like the sentinels in Mythal's temple.

I could go on, but generally speaking, there are so many little hints pointing to Solas being a former slave/servant of Mythal that, again, we won't get into here, but it's important to mention when trying to figure out why the idol (presumably) even belongs to Solas.

"The idol's journey is now complete, and it has found its master."

In Tevinter Nights, the Dread Wolf claims that the red lyrium idol belongs to him. He also made sure to punish those who tried to misuse it, going so far as to march in with an entire army of spirits and snapping a guy's neck with his jaw. (Yup, you're better off not to touch the Dread Wolf's stuff for dirty blood rituals, kids.)

"You use my idol carelessly, and in doing so, you threaten all creation."

Additionally, in the last chapter of Tevinter Nights, Charter and other spies conclude that Solas must need the idol for whatever ritual he's planning, while Solas in Bard disguise claims that he's already in possession of the idol now and therefore, I quote, "cannot be stopped". (Though I personally still don't actually buy a single thing about his vivid tale at that auction house, but we'll get back to this later. lol)

And if the idol belongs to Solas, was he the one who created it, or did he order the dwarves or someone else to make it for him? But why would he intentionally make an idol out of red lyrium, anyway? He is fully aware of the dangers and corruption that comes with being exposed to red lyrium and its use. Especially considering that red lyrium is blighted and how he repeatedly expresses great concern over the Blights and gets furious over the Grey Wardens' attempts to preempt them by killing the Archdemons (because he obviously knows more than us).

So, does he know a way to use it without getting corrupted like everyone else? The Seekers of Truth are so far the only ones we've seen to be immune to red lyrium thanks to having their minds touched by a spirit of Faith during their vigil. Could Solas' connection to spirits/his hypothetical spirit origin allow him to use the idol without it effecting him?

But if any of this is true, then l'm again asking myself what even was the purpose of the idol to begin with? Why or when was it created? How does it differ from any other red lyrium, and what could Solas have used it for in the ancient past?

Powers & Effects

So, let's talk about what this thing can actually do (as far as we know).

(Btw, this is the part where I will shamelessly copy a lot straight from the DA wiki, because truth be told, I'm just a German struggling with limited vocabulary and I figured there's simply no way to summarize this any better than the wiki already has. 💀)

Just like any other red lyrium, we know that being exposed to the idol for too long will make you mad/paranoid/possessive/violent, while also grant you special powers, until overuse causes your body to be completely overtaken by red lyrium. It seems to thin the Veil wherever it is currently kept, allowing spirits or demons to interact with the physical world.

It also emanates a song that is slowly turning people who hear it insane.

The Song

"It sings… sick music." "It eats you inside until you're nothing." "It creeps into your thoughts, humming." "They hear a different song. The song behind the door old whispers want opened. They are dead and dark and done." "Songs screaming far away. It wants to wake up but can't remember how."

(- Cole's comments about red lyrium/red templars)

After Bartrand took the idol and left Varric and Hawke to die in the primeval Thaig, he started hearing voices, claiming the idol was "singing" to him. Even after selling it, Bartrand could still hear the idol and was eventually driven mad by its red lyrium.

Three years later, it is discovered that Bartrand had chipped a piece of the idol off and left it in his estate, which causes the house to behave like it was haunted and the Veil was torn.

Then during the "Haunted" quest, Varric himself remarks several times to hear music while walking through the estate, much like the Carta assassin in Tevinter Nights recalled to have heard "music in the wind, like some old song I heard as a kid but can't quite remember" when obtaining the idol from Meredith's corpse.

Important to mention here is that Varric seems to also be the only one in the party able to hear this song.

Varric: "Hey… is that music? Where is that coming from?" Hawke: "In don't hear anything." Varric: "Where is that singing coming from? You hear it, right, Hawke?" Varric: "Where is that voice coming from?" Hawke: "What voice?" Varric: "I can barely hear it… I wish I could make out the words."

Varric also told us that, after Bartrand went mad, he tortured his non-dwarven servants by cutting pieces off them to help them "hear the song".

(And remember, the idol was found in an ancient primeval Thaig in the Deep Roads, sitting on something like an altar, indicating that it was being worshiped by the ancient dwarves as well. Presumably because they too were being influenced by the idol's/red lyrium's song?)

Haunted

During the "Haunted" quest, we learn that the mere presence of a shard of the idol in the estate causes:

"Voices whispering in the walls"

Random objects moving on their own

Apparitions/screaming spirits appear running across the floors

When Varric picks up the piece of the idol, he starts to exhibit the same symptoms of madness Bartrand showed, at which point Hawke can either let Varric keep the piece, or can take it from him with the intent of having Sandal destroy it.

If Hawke asks Anders to diagnose Bartrand in Act 2, he suspects a demon at work, however Bartrand is a dwarf. Instead, he determines that "his mind has been poisoned by something powerful".

In Tevinter Nights, the Carta assassin recalls that, in the attempt to retrieve the idol from Meredith's corpse, most of his colleagues fell shaking and whispering the closer they got to it.

Meredith

After Bartrand sold the idol to Meredith, she reshapes it into her sword Certainty, which does eventually drive her insane as well. It also gives her unnatural powers, such as the ability to animate the statues in the Gallows, and even limited flight capabilities.

(My question is though, were the things happening in that final fight directly caused by the idol or was this just the result of the Veil being already weakened that much by the many terrible things that happened at that place/Kirkwall in general?)

Anyhow, during the final battle at the Gallows, Meredith overuses the lyrium sword, causing it to burst into dust and petrify her into a statue.

Though as we all know now, some part of Meredith seems to have survived somehow, as her… mind(?) or something was shown to now still "live" within the red lyrium somewhere in Kirkwall at the end of Absolution. She (or "it") also seems to have somewhat control over the red templars now, too.

So, how is this possible? What exactly is she now, if it even is herself and not just a manifestation/echo of her memories or something? Could it have something to do with the idol? No one really knows (and we might never find out, if Netflix won't give us a second season, anyway lol), but I do think it's curious how the idol is likely depicting Mythal's death, who didn't actually die either and lived on through the ages as a type of lingering "wisp" clinging to various hosts. 👀

I also want to point out how Solas did suspiciously include Meredith's petrified corpse in his mural in the 2020 teaser as well, placing her right under that ominous upside down figure with the tentacles.

Furthermore, just like Meredith, the idol also seems to be somewhat indestructable. lol After Meredith's sword burst into dust, it regrew inside her petrified corpse (which Solas was apparently also aware of). What's interesting is that it regenerated in Meredith's chest of all places. You know, like, where the heart is supposed to be? 👀

Then there's also this curious line from Anders, when talking about Varric acting strange after obtaining a shard of the idol:

"This thing's magic seems only more potent when broken."

I've mentioned it before, but with the spikes (or roots in DA2) at the bottom part of the idol making it look like it was ripped or broken off of something, you have to wonder if its current state is somewhat broken, even after regenerating.

"Hot-Blooded"

During the Haunted quest, Fenris will remark this:

"Whatever is here is angry."

In DAI, Cole repeatedly comments on how red lyrium feels "very angry" and how it is "less angry when it's cold". We know for a fact that red lyrium emanates a noticeable heat. A corrupted Bartrand is especially weak to cold/ice magic.

While anger is generally associated with heat, I find this aspect particularly interesting, given that red lyrium is tainted blood of a Titan.

And building on that, while still searching for further connections between red lyrium, the idol and Mythal… Remember how the ancient sarcophagus in the Blue Wraith and Dark Fortress comic was used in a ritual, in which lyrium combined with fire of a Great dragon carved lyrium infused markings into Fenris' and Shirallas' skin, granting them special powers.

Not only was this ancient sarcophagus specifically built only for elves, and its design resembling that of Mythal's statues…

…but here we have a case in which lyrium is purposefully "set on fire" by a Great dragon to create "elven super soldiers". Mythal is always depicted as a dragon. And she mined lyrium in humongous amounts.

Again, red lyrium emanates heat. If this was common practice in ancient times, then I feel like it's not surprising that a Titan would eventually be pretty damn angry in reaction to its blood being continuously burned for centuries [insert boiling blood joke here].

So, aside from the red lyrium being blighted, could there be a connection in Mythal burning the Titans' blood? As far as we know, it did take a couple of aeons in which Mythal (presumably) continued to mine (and burn?) the Titans' blood, before the ancient elves sealed the Deep Roads for good, because they discovered something… bad. As Solas himself declares in the vision described at the mural depicting a Titan's death:

"Let this place be forgotten. Let no one wake its anger." "The vision grows dark. An aeon seems to pass. Then the runes crackle, as if filled with an angry energy. A new vision appears: elves collapsing caverns, sealing the Deep Roads with stone and magic." "Terror, heart-pounding, ice-cold, as the last of the spells is cast."

And there it is again. That anger we're talking about. What's so interesting to me, is how this does sort of come full circle with Mythal and the idol after all, since the motivation behind Mythal's actions, even after thousands of years, remains her unwavering desire for vengeance upon the people who betrayed and murdered her, which, in a way, does mirror the same anger/heat that the Titan is emanating from its tainted blood.

And speaking of blood……

A Ritual Blade

In Tevinter Nights, we learned that the idol is able to produce a blade, which is then used as part of a blood magic ritual.

"The Tevinter mage was killing his slaves. […] He had cut the throat of one of them, and then another, catching the blood of his victims on the idol as he made his way around the circle. […] The Tevinter mage raised the idol before him, and I saw a spike of lyrium spring from the base of the idol, so that all at once, it was not merely an idol, but a ritual blade. He slashed his own hand, and a wave of power pulsed through the cavern. It was as though we were the blood, and the cavern was the body through which it flowed, and we fell, all of us, to the ground, our minds pulled into the raw chaos of the Fade by the power of his ritual."

In the end of the Dark Fortress comic, the idol produced another red lyrium sword, that could be fully detached and was then placed onto the before-mentioned sarcophagus, turning Shirallas into a raving beserker that was pretty much invincible as long as he was in possession of that same sword.

While the blue lyrium infused sword that was used in Fenris' ritual simply dissolved in the process, the sword produced by the idol could "regenerate" and was especially resistant to Great dragon fire.

"Unlike the lyrium-infused swords of the so-called Arcane warriors, this sword should survive the ritual."

In the final fight against him, Marquette comments on how Shirallas "feeds energy to the sword from the red lyrium in his veins" and how in turn "the sword heals his wounds".

So in both the comic and Tevinter Nights, the idol/the weapon produced from the idol seems to draw power specifically from the blood of its wielder. It makes me wonder if it was initially intended to be used this way, since we have to remember that it still presumably belongs to Solas, who claims to not practice blood magic, because it seems to make it more difficult to enter the Fade.

Which is ironic, given what the mage in Tevinter Nights did to disrupt the Fade, but also how the Magisters Sidereal used a massive blood ritual to enter the Fade physically.

And oddly enough, in your first conversation with Solas about blood magic, he makes this curious analogy with daggers as an example…

Inquisitor: Every time I've seen blood magic used, it has been for some evil purpose. Solas: I once saw a woman being stabbed in the stomach with a dagger. She died slowly, in angony. It was repulsive. If the Chantry outlawed daggers, would that stop the people from using it? Of course not. […]" Inquisitor: "You don't need to sacrifice a slave's life to make a dagger." Solas: "I suppose it depends upon the dagger."

So… Could Solas be referencing Mythal's death here? Or what if the dagger here is referring to the idol in its blade form? What the heck does he mean by "I suppose it depends upon the dagger"? Was a slave's life sacrificed to create the idol maybe?

But if blood magic wasn't the sole purpose for why it was made, then what else could the idol as a ritual blade be used for?

Which brings us to…

Dalish mythology

According to Dalish legends, Fen'Harel told the Creators and the Forgotten Ones that the Avvar had forged a "terrible weapon", a blade that would end the war between both clans of gods. He told the Creators that it was forged in the heavens, while the Forgotten Ones were told that it was hidden in the Abyss. And when the gods went seeking it, Fen'Harel sealed them both in their realms forever.

Okay. So, let's just assume for a second that the blade in this legend was actually the idol in its blade form. Because hell, what are the odds of having two "super powerful ancient blades that belong to Solas"? lol

If they are in fact the same weapon and the part about Solas tricking the gods is true, why were the Evanuris and the Forgotten Ones so eager to get this thing, to the point that they would fell into a trap?

And with this, I'd also like to point out the level design in the scene in which Flemeth takes Kieran's Old God soul in the Fade. I can't help but feel like the statue of Dirthamen being stabbed in the back with a sword, crying a stream of blood, resulting in a huge pool of blood, as well as a bloody ouroboros symbol on the ground, is a very deliberate design choice. Especially considering the context of this scene with the revelation about Flemeth and Mythal, I'd argue this is all in reference to how Mythal was betrayed and murdered.

Again, the idol could depict Mythal in her moment of death. In the final fresco in the rotunda, the one Solas never finished before leaving the Inquisition, we see a wolf looming over a dragon slain by a blade.

In the last visual of the 2022 cinematic that, going by Varric's narration, could potentially depict the destruction of the Veil, Solas appears to hold something that resembles a blade with a very destinct handle. Additionally, we've since discovered an icon hidden on the Steam page of DA4, that shows a dagger with an identical shape and the same glowy purple as the Dreadwolf title.

So we have the idol in its blade form, the blade Mythal was potentially slain with, the blade Solas is holding in the 2022 cinematic, Solas mentioning a dagger in relation to blood magic and Fen'Harel's blade in Dalish legends.

That's a lot of blades... and a lot of blood. lol

The Hunt of the Fell Wolf

"The Hunt of the Fell Wolf" is the title of a poem that can be found in the Jaws of Hakkon DLC. It tells a story of former Inquisitor Ameridan, his friend Haron and their fight against a demon wolf.

Along with numerous odd things in this tale that could be interpreted as some kind of metaphor (or just the devs messing with us, if you want to know more, please check out this post), it also mentions an "idol of fade-touched stone" in connection to the demon wolf.

The wounded knight in darkness Found within the cavern’s gloom An idol of fade-touched stone, Which could prove the monster’s doom.

In the poem, after a grim fight, the wolf takes Ameridan's friend Haron to its lair, a "labyrinth of winding cave" (which many believe is referring to the Deep Roads, just like the ancient Thaig in DA2 where Hawke and Varric found the red lyrium idol originally) where Haron, oddly enough, also happens to find an idol. What's intruiging though, is that this idol seems to be connected to the wolf in such a way that he can only be defeated if both him and the idol are destroyed and struck down at the same time.

With burning blade, Ameridan And monster met again Whilst elsewhere did Haron valiantly With demon-wards contend.

As demon-stone was shattered, Ameridan struck true: Beast and spirit—both felled at once, Though neither hunter knew.

"Beast and spirit—both felled at once"

Two entities that are connected across two different places… as in the physical body and the spirit maybe?

As in the waking world and the Fade?

So, let's reiterate.

The red lyrium idol belongs to the Dread Wolf. Cole remarks how he can feel that Solas is "in both places". The word "Dread Wolf" itself is an anagram for "World" and "Fade". We've talked about the popular spirit origin theory before, Solas taking a physical form against his will because of Mythal. The whole matter of Solas' "true name" before he called himself Pride. Solas' entire personal quest, which may or may not mirror his own past, a spirit of Wisdom being denied its original purpose, turning into a pride demon ("He wants to give wisdom not orders"). His strange remarks at the end of Cole's personal quest ("We cannot change our nature by wishing"). The fact that Solas makes Cole forget about his true identity, just like spirit!Cole does. The visual portrayal of Solas "consuming" Flemeth's powers at the end of DAI. The way in which Solas doesn't recognize anyone in the waking world as "people", but will vehemently debate you on why spirits should be considered people.

"But the People… They need me." (- Solas to Flemeth at the end of DAI) "Never again." (- Solas after burning the mages who were responsible for Wisdom's corruption) "From this moment, should you ever bind a spirit, your life is mine." (- the Dread Wolf's final warning to the mages in Tevinter Nights)

All of this considered, what could the poem in JOH imply for the connection between Solas and the Dread Wolf/the Dread Wolf and the idol?

"They made bodies from the Earth, and the Earth was afraid. It fought back, but they made it forget."

One theory assumes that the creation of the Veil lead to the separation of the ancient elves' bodies and their souls/spirits, assuming that before the creation of the Veil, the Evanuris somehow made bodies from the Titans/lyrium for spirits to manifest and then enslaved/bound them to their will by marking those bodies with their vallaslin.

But if that's true, then what happened to Solas when he created the Veil?

"He broke the dreams to stop the old dreams from waking. The wolf chews its leg off to escape the trap."

In all the murals, tarot cards and illustrations, the Dread Wolf and Solas are always depicted separately.

What really IS the Dread Wolf? And what is he to Solas?

"It was a beast unlike any I had ever seen. Lupine in appearance, but the size of a high dragon, with shaggy spiked hide and six burning eyes like a pride demon, and it came to us on wings of fire that resolved themselves into a horde of lesser demons."

From what little we know of the Dread Wolf himself, he only seems to exist within the Fade (that is to say, before the Veil, Solas was already depicted as a wolf, presumably even before his rebellion and before the Evanuris "bestowed" him with the title "Fen'Harel"). In the Mortalitasi's tale in Tevinter Nights, his army of spirits follows the mages back to the waking world, yet the Dread Wolf himself remains in the Fade. In one of the frescoes in the rotunda, Solas portrays the Black City surrounded by the six burning red eyes that resemble those of the Dread Wolf, almost like he's keeping watch over the eternal prison of those he banished. In the Tower tarot card, the Dread Wolf is ominously looming over Solas, almost like it's about to consume him, while in one of the Trespasser murals, it looks more like the Dread Wolf follows his lead. And then there's the DA4 2018 teaser mural, in which they're opposing each other, only seperated by the red lyrium idol in the center of the Veil.

If the red lyrium idol is connected to Solas like the idol in the poem is connected to the wolf, could this be part of the reason Solas is so desperate to find it? Does it possess some kind of spirit? Can the Dread Wolf only be defeated if the idol is destroyed at the same time, just like in the poem?

Where is it now?

So where's the damn thing now?

Well, in my opinion, there are two options.

Option 1) The bard's tale in Tevinter Nights was complete bullshit. lol

Despite Solas trying to convince us that he already obtained the idol in a vault some time ago under an auction house in Llomerryn, it's possible that, much like his whole charade in that chapter, this tale was also entirely fabricated. lol

To make it short, here is a list of arguments for why the "bard's tale" could've been a complete lie:

Solas attended this spy meeting specifically for information on the idol's whereabouts (because he doesn't actually know where it is currently?).

Everything until the last two pages was an act.

Both the Mortalitasi and the Carta Assassin point out several contradictions within his tale.

Upon hearing the other spies assuming that he needs the idol, it would just make sense that he would want them/Charter to believe that he’s now in possession of the idol and “cannot be stopped”, so that they would drop all effort to find it before him.

On the very last page of the book, there's a lists of bullet points of information when Charter is about to write down her report, and it does not explicitly say “He has the idol�� but rather just what it looks like, which suggests that Charter didn’t buy his story either.

So if this was all lies, the last known location of the idol would therefore be the unknown person who took it when escaping from the Dread Wolf's spirit army in the Grand Necropolis in the tale of the Mortalitasi.

Meaning that Solas would therefore still be searching for it now. (Which would actually be kind of hilarious, considering how there's likely gonna be a ten year timeskip since DAI, so he would've been searching for the flippin thing for the better part of a decade now. 😂 We know from the end of the Blue Wraith comics that he had followed the idol's path via eluvian, but maybe he just lost track of it at some point? In fact, the last we heard from him, Solas was apparently busy pursuing some Venatori people to get another ancient artifact called the Crucious Stone in the The Missing comic, much like he prevented the Tevinter mage in Nevarra from using his idol. Solas after ten years of searching for the idol was probably like "Oh fuck it, I give up, on to McGuffin Nr 2 then". lmao)

In an interview with the comic writers Nunzio DeFilippis and Christina Weir, they talked about how in their initial draft of Dark Fortress, Solas actually *got* the idol(!!) from two of his agents by using the eluvian located at Nenealeus' place before BioWare stepped in and requested a change. 👀 That version would've explained how Solas was able to track the idol through the eluvian we see at the end. Their own interpretation was that Solas can only overlook a certain radius within the area of where another eluvian is located. Which would actually support the assumption that Solas might've lost track of the idol at some point after Nenealeus left the place… but that's just their interpretation and not official BioWare canon (yet), sooo…. Hm.

Option 2) Solas has the idol now.

So let's assume that the part about him obtaining the idol in Tevinter Nights was actually true and it's now in his possession.

Aside from this, the only thing that could speak for Solas already having the idol in the beginning of DA4, is once again the final visual in the 2022 cinematic.

If this cinematic is in fact playing at the beginning of the game as a general re-introduction to the lore and the last visual is depicting Solas in the middle of destroying the Veil using the idol, then.. well yeah, there it is, in his hand…. at least, for now. Making Solas succeed in the first 10 minutes, I guess? lol

……Unless!

See, a few years ago, I speculated about how the idol might actually be the perfect plot device/motivation for our new protagonist to get involved in the whole Solas deal without even knowing who he is.

Let's say the last visual in the 2022 cinematic is actually showing us a hypothetical scenario, and not something that has already happened/is currently happening. Like, Varric gives this expository narration explaining who Solas is and what might happen if we don't succeed in getting the idol. (Notice how Varric says "And we're the only ones who can stop him" at the end… Like there's still a chance to stop him before this actually happens.) We know from Tevinter Nights that Charter knows that Solas needs the idol for whatever ritual he's planning. And Charter obviously informed the Inquisition/Varric about this as well. So the next logical step for the Inquisition now would be to obtain the idol (whether or not the bard's tale in TN was true) to prevent this ritual at any cost, right?

The comic The Missing re-emphasized that Varric is now in charge of getting people that Solas doesn't know. And this might be where the new protagonist gets recruited by Varric (who is still a spymaster after all) and gets assigned the alias "Rook" for a heist mission to obtain the idol. (And after a very thorough observation of the DA4 reddit leaks from 2023… it looks like Rook might've actually succeeded in this potential quest?)

While we don't know when the stuff in the leaks actually takes place within DA4's storyline, I think it's safe to say that Rook will obtain the idol at some point in the story and that it will play a pivotal role, if the blurb on the Steam page for DA4 is to be believed. lol

As well as what could likely end up being the game's icon, found on the Steam page.

And again, remember how in the Hunt of the Fell Wolf poem, it seemed like Ameridan struck the wolf’s body in the waking world, while his friend Haron killed the spirit (inside the idol?) in the Fade. What could this imply for DA4 then, if we are applying the role of Ameridan, Haron and the wolf in this tale to the Inquisitor, Rook and Solas?? 👀 Is this how we can stop him? The Inquisitor confronts Solas in the waking world, while Rook has to destroy the idol/fight the Dread Wolf in the Fade?

Or could it just be a metaphor for the Inquisitor in DA4 keeping Solas occupied to distract him from Rook, while they can figure out another secret way to deal with him/how to get/destroy the idol?

See, the thing is, we have to remember that this is after all, a video game. lol Meaning that, if our protagonist gets to carry around a powerful ancient artifact/weapon, I would assume that this has to be somehow implemented in the gameplay as well. What we can take from the short footage of the 2023 reddit leak, is that Rook might carry the idol (if it really IS the same thing) while still fighting with their own main weapon in combat. So, what if the idol serves as more of a special power tool outside of combat, for example, like the anchor did in DAI, where it can only be used for special occasions? Let's say, the idol in its blade form can't be used in battle but is able to "split" the Veil or reality, like the anchor was able to open and close rifts? Or, if we assume that the idol is something like an ancient phylactery (which btw is my favorite theory and I will talk about in my second post), maybe it can be used as some kind of "tracking device"? Actually, I'm super curious to learn how Rook is even able to carry it like this in the first place, since we know what kind of effect it usually has on people. lol

~~~~~

Anyway, I'll make a hard cut here now and save the rest of this behemoth of a post for a second separate post (because I also just realized that tumblr doesn't let me add any more images 😂💀), so if any of you actually made it this far... thank you for being just as crazy as me about this and I will post the second part shortly after. lol ❤

[achelouise]

my love, my muse —kaveh

fandom: genshin

pairing: kaveh x reader!

a/n: i just realized i hadn’t written for kaveh, which is a crime against humanity. also kaveh x muse!reader brainrot sjzjjwjzjqjjajajajh (also switching formats, iiiiiii have no idea what im doing, can you tell)

— student!kaveh, who, even though loathed and respected his project partner to bits, would rather die than ever try to draw him for an assignment. “don’t even think about it,” he hisses, just as alhaitham quirks an unimpressed eyebrow. he understands that he has many friends and acquaintances that are willing to pose for him, but a small voice in the back of his head needles at him- telling him that no, we cannot create art with them as our muse. and to him, nothing is more important than making sure every single artwork he produces is with the utmost sincerity.

— student!kaveh, whose resolve crumbles bit after bit as the deadline creeps up, with no model to look for in sight, and is starting to think perhaps he should turn to his volunteering friends after all. he cannot compromise his diligence for his passion as a scholar, and so he heads to pupsa café, hoping to buy some coffee to prepare for his all-nighter that night.

—student!kaveh, who doesn’t even realize he’s pouting until he hears a cheery, unfamiliar voice bring it up- and he tilts his head up to find that he spilled all the coffee in his mouth onto his shirt (much to your alarm).

“you,” he gurgles, “you’re the muse i’ve been looking for!”

“excuse me?”

— perhaps he was a bit sleep-deprived, which explained his lack of inhibition, but student!kaveh latches onto you like a moth to a flame, stars swirling in his eyes. are you a student of the akademiya? which darshan are you from? which nation were you from to bless you with such beautiful eyes? could you be his muse? he asks them all, because he has to know.

— student!kaveh, who only later apologizes for his overbearing first-impression, while swearing up and down he wasn’t like that usually, and explaining his current predicament. perhaps you pitied him, or found him quite charming- whichever it was, you accepted his proposal to be his muse in exchange for some funds, much to his delight.

“thank you, thank you, oh, thank you! my assignment won’t be so lifeless after all!”

— student!kaveh, who arranges a time and place for you at his dorm with a sense of bravery he has absolutely no idea where he picked up from. when you come in with the most random set of outfit he’s ever seen, he chooses to hold back his tongue over your enthusiastic participation.

“sit tight!” he says, holding comically large canvas whose shadow swallowed up the whole room, “relax, and do whatever your heart tells you to do.”

— student!kaveh, who usually simply sketches things out of pure photographic memory, starts simple and structured for once. where would the chair go? where would you sit? would you look too stretched out if the table properties next to you weren’t matching? where should he exaggerate? how would the chandelier be hanging to get the perfect lighting? how would the painting behind you affect the composition?

— student!kaveh, who usually lets his hand dance on his canvas, plans everything out this time, and lets his mind flourish under the guidance of your radiant beauty. your soft smile, your relaxed posture, and your twinkling eyes lets him have fun- and he finds joy in drawing backgrounds, especially the furniture, for once- to emphasize the way you pose.

— student!kaveh, who drinks an ungodly amount of coffee every night and lets his sheer will do the rest, stops by in the kitchen to make you some snacks. he worries for you; “are you alright? is this posture tiring you? do you want water? i can get some for you. do you want some snacks, too? we can take a break. i don’t have much here, but i can always make a quick trip to the market.”

— student!kaveh, who finds joy in conversation with you while he works. you seem to harbor a decent amount of knowledge fitting for a scholar. if you talk about other subjects, kaveh’s more than willing to listen. if you enjoy studying architecture, that’s fine too! whatever the topic is, you both seem to have an endless stream of opinions and discussions to open up about, and watching your mouth run off on any particular topic brings him much satisfaction. it is always fascinating to understand another person deeply interested in a subject.

— student!kaveh, who starts to explore other color schemes in order to find the perfect one for you. your radiance is something that should be brought out and emphasized on his canvas, something future generations can look at and admire. maybe a bit of pink for the shadow? how about purple to shade your hair instead of gray? would yellow compliment your shoes? he thinks of them all, dabbling in this and that, until his palette blooms in different smears of colors.

— student!kaveh, who is willing to go on a rant to explain how you were the perfect muse, how your smile made his hand itch to draw it out, how your eyes crinkled and held the weight of your soul, how- oh. did he say muse? would you like to be? kaveh doesn’t mind in the slightest if you could continue to. in fact, how about he treats you to a nice meal tonight? the sun is setting, anyway, and it’ll be his way of saying thank you. (please say yes.)

— student!kaveh, who, after half an hour of deliberation on whether parting his bangs in a certain angle would make him look more presentable or not, shows up that night at the venue with a small sketchbook in his hands, telling you not to worry about it. every time your lips turn a certain way, or when the light hits your hand just right, he frantically sketches it down underneath the table, much to your confusion.

“did you enjoy the meal? hm? that? oh, it’s nothing. please, go on. you said something about how your friend could aether-edit?”

it was a pleasant time, despite him constantly dodging your questions on what in teyvat’s name he’s doing, and believing the constant rush he feels inside his head whenever you laugh is perfectly normal. you’re his muse, aren’t you? it’s only natural.

(and if the dinner spreads any rumors- well, kaveh thinks it’s normal to feel giddy, too.)

— student!kaveh, who, when looking at his graded paper days later, is pleased to know it is graded with high praise. the professor even commented on how he is finally starting to get a firm grasp on studying basic anatomy of architecture. (hmph. he thinks he was pretty good at anatomy up until then as well, but okay.) good- he’s put a lot of effort into that painting.

— student!kaveh, who insists on thanking you for the high grade again, the next time you run into each other- only this time with a bouquet of flowers, and a blush on his face.

[dilfartist]

Model 2099

Pairing; Yandere Android Miguel O’hara x reader

Synopsis; You always thought of your android Miguel as a loveable companion. Little did you know he had an unhealthy obsession with you. And it even went as far as hurting someone who hurt you.

Word count; 3.3k

Tw; yandere theme, dark themes, dead dove don’t eat (maybe).

Reader description; Female/GN

Your skin felt frigid. Your fingertips, ears, and nose all numb despite your body being clad head to toe in warm apparel.

In Nueva York, the snow descended in great, unforeseen amounts. On the first day of the predicted cold weather, the snow reached from the street to the concrete. It was narrow enough for a child to build a snowman. However the next day, the snow reached higher, enough to cover the doorsteps of some apartments on your block and blanket the roads in ice.

Now your street felt lifeless. The only cars seen were the ones parked on the sidewalks. None of your neighbors left the warmth of their homes.

You dig your left boot into the hill of rampant snow, then bring the right one to propel yourself further. Unlucky you, having to fight your way home through the snow just because you needed a few necessities. The weather forecast predicted the snow would last for at least two days, so you went out to retrieve toilet paper, soup cans, microwaveable dinners, and a flashlight in case of power outs.

Grasping the handle of the front door, you pressed it forward, enough for you to enter. Swiftly, you shut the door behind you to sponge in the warmth coming from the heater. Once your numb fingers began to absorb the heat, you peeled off your gloves - well these gloves weren't yours; they belonged to a co-worker nice enough to lend them to you- and threw them inside your purse. You let out a pleased sigh. The house had a tidied aroma, smelling like someone had used enough bleach for it to still be identified hours later despite drying. Still, the apple cider fragrance spray claimed the house, if only slightly. Disrobing yourself off your coat, you call out to your Android. "Miguel! I'm home!"

Usually, your android - Miguel O’Hara, model 2099- waited beside the door to greet you after a hard day's work. Helping you disrobe your jacket and asking you about your day. And even when slightly off-timing, he'd let you know of his presence with a "welcome back!" from wherever he was in the moment. Oddly enough, there was no reply. You look up, puzzled by the lack of response. "Miguel?!" You call out, voice more audible for the other side of the house this time. Again, no reply.

You don't think much of his absence, presuming he had forgotten to grab an ingredient for tonight's dinner and would be back home in no time. Sometimes he'd be so focused on one task that the other errands would be forgotten. Miguel could handle himself.

The majority of lights in the house were turned off; furthering your conclusion about your Android’s whereabouts. You stepped into your kitchen, examining the room. Aside from the pots on the stove, nothing had changed in the kitchen. The kitchen was spick and span, per usual. You'd remember to thank him when you saw him.

Approaching the stove, you took note of the two pots simmering on the stovetop. One sat on the front burner, the other on the back burner. You lifted the lid, allowing the steam to escape. Your stomach rumbles, craving the smell. I groan, feeling impatient, placing the lid back on the pot.

The aroma of dinner leaked out of the slightly ajar pot, alluring you closer for a taste. You entered the kitchen, following the scent of the meal simmering on the stove.

Raising the lid off the pot, you dip the ladle into the soup, scooping as much as you can. You took a small sip, savoring the creamy-rich taste. The taste is addicting and you can’t get enough. You dip the ladle in once again, drinking the soup until the ladle is empty. Then again you repeated the action.

“Don't worry, dinner will be ready in just a minute.” The abrupt sound of a person’s voice states. You flinch in surprise, A hand is placed on your chest, dropping the ladle, and your heart thumps quicker than before. “Miguel!” You gasp, “You scared me.” You whirl around to meet his eyes.

Miguel gives a small apologetic smile, setting the basket of clothes he was carrying onto the table. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Miguel says softly, accent getting heavier at the end. “Didn't hear you come in.”

“No, it’s fine.” You reassured. “Thank you for cleaning.”

Even if Miguel was programmed to clean, you always felt the need to thank him for his labor. No matter the times he reminded you that he was a machine designed for that very chore.

“I should also apologize for not greeting you at the door; My clothes were in the dryer.”

“It's fine, Miguel, really. You don't have to greet me at the door every day.”

Once again, Miguel provides you with a small smile; however, his smile does not reach his eyes. If the guilty smile Miguel sported wasn't enough evidence of his guilt, the flashing red LED on Miguel's right temple certainly accomplished the job.

The LED’s scarlet color quickly transitioned into a light blue color, indicating Miguel had gotten over his negative feelings.

It was terrifying knowing the sole dissimilarity between the two of you was the LED. Without the LED, you wouldn't have thought Miguel to be an Android. Knowing the sole difference between the two of you was the LED was in a way terrifying. Without the LED installed in the right temple of Androids, no one would be able to tell who was a robot and who wasn't.

Dragging the box cutter down swiftly, the tape splits open. You take a step back examining the package. The package is light brown, standing up vertically against the wall. “What the hell is this thing?” you ask, amused. A good friend of yours shipped you a gift out of the blue, so you called her up to catch your reaction.

“Open it and see,” she replies sarcastically.

You roll your eyes and spread the folds of the box open. Package peanuts spill all over the floor, and you grumble at the mess that piles on the floor. “Goddamn it,” you’re just about to complain some more when you catch something out of the corner of your eye. You freeze in place, you raise your head in an unhurried motion, the dread in your abdomen expanding.

You holler with fright, falling on your ass. “Did you send me a dead body?!” you exclaim into the speaker of your phone.

Your friend on the other side of the line enjoys your reaction, laughing so hard she begins to have a coughing fit. “Oh my god,” she hums in satisfaction, “you’re too funny, (Name).” After a while she settles down, no longer laughing but her tone still caries the puerile amusement she once had a moment ago, “It’s not a dead body. It's an Android.”

You were familiar with the concept of an android. Androids have been ubiquitous since their first release, and you’ve encountered many, but the majority of the time they were owned by establishments due to their overwhelming expense. Which is why the thought of you owning an Android was mind-boggling.

You stutter out a response, not sure how to approach the profound surprise, “You- I- why did you give it to me? Not that I’m complaining. It's just- this had to be about 8,000 dollars!” Then it hits you; you and she are in the same boat when it comes to funds, “Wait- how the hell did get this?!” you rub your temple, examining the face of the bot through the blurred glass that contains it.

She responds nonchalantly, “Aaron is wealthy remember? He bought me it.”

Aaron was her new boyfriend, he came from a wealthy background and she took advantage of that fact every moment she could. And he didn't seem to mind. Buying this bot would be like buying a box of cereal for him; not something to think twice and a regular ordeal.

You lift a brow, perplexed by the fact she gave you such an expensive gift. Not that you were complaining, of course, just simply curious “And you gave it to me? Why?” you question.

“He got jealous because the Android is literally breathtaking and I just couldn't keep my eyes off him. So being how he always is, he requested for me to throw it out. I mean his voice, Jesus,” she suppresses a squeal, “and not only that, he’s 6’9 and muscular!” she continues to gush about him, you unconsciously tune her out, your focus too busy on analyzing his blurred features.

You hum in acknowledgment. “Well, let me take it out, I’ll have to research it. Thanks for the gift, I'll talk to you later. Bye.”

You take a seat at the dining table. Miguel saunters to the stove, opens the lid, and takes a portion of the soup out to pour into a porcelain bowl. You cock your head to the side, curious to know the reason two respective pots were brewing their own soups. “What’s the other pot have in it?” you question.

Miguel glances at you for a moment then continues to prepare your bowl. “Mrs. Peterson is sick,” he carries the bowl over and sets it gently in front of you. “She asked me to prepare her some soup. I offered her the soup I made for tonight’s dinner, but you know how she can be.”

Mrs. Peterson lived next door, and she adored Miguel. She was sixty-three years old, childless, and had no family members in general. She always required his assistance and Miguel always obliged.

A frown tugs at the corners of your lips, concern morphing your face. “She’s sick? That's too bad. That’s sweet of you to help her.”

Mindlessly, you use your soup spoon to stir the steaming liquid in the bowl. Anxious of the answer he’ll reply to you with, you take a breath of courage. “Did David come by today?” you question, voice low and meek

Miguel is quiet for a beat until he decides to speak up. “No, and if he did, I’d deal with him,” he states carefully, touching on the subject to convey his understanding. “You haven't called him, have you?” his tone is identical to a nagging best friend who is tired of seeing you whine over a boy.

“No.” you shake your head, eyes shifting to meet his, “no,” you say once again to reassure him. Miguel appears satisfied with the answer he received, “Good. Don't go contacting him after what he did to you.” you let out an exasperated exhale. Leaning back in your chair, setting down the soup spoon in your hand, “I- Miguel, I think I might have deserved it.”

Miguel snaps his head in your direction, wearing a stern mug, “He had no right to put his hands on you, no matter the reason.” he chides. He leans his massive body against the counter, folding his arms, fully engaged in the conversation.

“I brought up his ex!” you argue on his behalf. Why? You’re unsure.

“Oh, so he should act the same way she did, to you?” Miguel is a tad bit galled, being sardonic with his retorts. Now he’s fully engrossed in the discussion, leaning his massive body against the counter, giving you his undivided attention. “Slapping you so hard you hit the wall.”

It hurts how factual his words are. It’s enough for you to look down in chagrin, a lump forming in your throat making it hard to swallow. Let anyone else be in your situation, you’d chastise them for such a weak mindset. Make sure they knew there was no good reason to blame themselves for someone else's wrongdoing. But being that person who feels empathy for the person who hurt you, feels so much more embarrassing than having a friend be that person.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” you say lowly, speaking any louder would make you cry.

“It’s fine, (Name).” Miguel consoles, moving from the counter to rub a comforting hand on your back. You sigh, feeling soothed by the little gesture. Miguel leans down, tilting his body slightly to face-to-face with you. Miguel looks at you with such tenderness a shover travels down your spine. “He won’t hurt you again, I’ll make sure of it” His expression as a whole is soft and full of fondness, though his red eyes pierce your soul.

“Miguel bot 2099,” you mutter the title of the YouTube video on your TV screen. You click play and the video loads for a second before finally playing.

A woman appears in a pitch-black void background. Her whole body is a golden color and she sports an elegant white dress that fits her figure. “Hello, I am Lyla.” she greets sounding welcoming, “I am the mascot of the company LYLA. We are the ones responsible for Androids and Ai’s. You must have clicked on this video because you must have purchased a Miguel bot or you’re just curious.”

Lyla presents a Miguel bot that emerges on the screen out of nowhere. “Miguel O bot is one of LYLA’s number one selling Androids. And there’s a reason for that.”

“Miguel is used for three sole reasons.”

Three Miguels appear on the screen, all in diverse outfits. One is in a business suit, another in a red and blue apron covering a white t-shirt, and the last one is shirtless with leather pants.

Lyla puts her hand out, motioning to the first one in a suit. “Here we have Workbot Miguel. Miguel’s hardworking nature mends well with a work environment, which is why he is mainly purchased to be a working android. Miguel has a variety of skills that companies yearn for in employees. Barriestabot Miguel, Assistant Managerbot Miguel, Firefighterbot Miguel, and Nursebot Miguel are just a few Androids listed in this category of the bot.

Lyla moves on and the camera pans to the second Miguel clad in the apron and white shirt. “Household Miguel: with household Miguel, you’ll never have to worry your head about cleaning or cooking, that’s his job! He pays necessities and bills if you have no time. And he is great with children!”

She moves on for the last time. “And here we have the Miguel meant for adults eighteen and above. This is sexbot Miguel, mostly found in male strip clubs or can be purchased online. We assure you, that you’ll feel pleasure you’ve never felt before. He comes with a remote control, which switches from hardcore dominant to soft dominant to submissive. We’ve created his intimate parts to the point numerous test participants felt like it was the real deal, and probably even better. He’s crafted to seem real so he includes fluids. The fluids are not real, they are simply there for it to seem real or by the user's choice. The fluid can be bought in stores near you or online. There are fruit flavors as well as desserts.”

The Miguel Androids disappear and Lyla is left by herself. “If any malfunctions occur with the bots, we have programmed the Miguel to have a Lyla AI to sit on his shoulder and help the user repair the issue. Lyla’s are never the same. They don’t appear like I do. Lyla’s come in all shapes, sizes, and ethnicities.”

Lyla gives a smile, a smile that you can’t help but feel uncomfortable by. It’s like she's staring right at you. In you.

“We hope you enjoy your Android. Your friends at LYLA.” the video concludes.

You sit there mentally processing the information for a minute, rubbing your chin. Your gaze moves to the Android, now propped up on the wall, and outside it’s containment. Miguel is definitely tall and extremely muscular as he was claimed to be. You can see why Aaron demanded she throw him out; he couldn't compete with him in the slightest.

Miguel had tanned skin, dark brown hair pushed back, two thick bushy eyebrows, and old wrinkles. Why did they choose to make him aged? They never explain. Maybe it’s to target families and people with daddy issues, you think. You walk over, looking up at his face. His eyes are shut.

“Didn't explain how to turn you on,” you grumble. Your hands explore the skin of his neck until your fingertips brush against a button on the back, you press down until a humming sound emits from the Android. You take two steps back and watch as the Android powers on. On his left temple appears a blue swirling light. His eyes flutter open.

...Are they red? That's...not right.

Your brows crease at the sight. You take out your phone, glancing at the original model once again. Yeah...Miguel should definitely have brown eyes. “What the hell..?” you whisper.

Putting your phone away to be polite to him, you greet him. He looks down at you, “Hello. My name is Miguel O’Hara.” he states casually.

His red eyes are piercing into you, but still, you find yourself bewitched.

“Thanks, Miggy,” you smile slightly at him, not yet recovering after the hard topic. Miguel was right, David’s vitriolic behavior towards you was inexcusable. Miguel would be there for you. He’s been your support more than your own boyfriend has been for months. Granted one is a robot, but sometimes you don’t even realize it with how human he acts.

A high-pitched beeping sound echoes from the left side of the house. “The washer is done. I put in another load when you came in. I’ll be back.” Miguel saunters off.

You stand up, walking over to the stove holding your empty bowl. You reach for the first pot but then decide against it. Mrs. Peterson wouldn’t die if you had one bowl of the soup. You reach over and open the second pot. You scoop as much soup as you can onto the ladle and pour it into the bowl. Once filled nearly to the brim, you place it down on the counter. You grab the lid, placing it back onto the pot.

You turn your attention back to the bowl.

“What the hell?” you mumble, squinting to guarantee yourself you weren’t crazy.

Poking out of the soup was something white. Nothing you could identify from just one look. You take your spoon and pick up the white thing with it.

It was...an eyeball! A human eyeball!

You scream in terror, dropping to the floor, your fall causing the entirety of the pot to plunge with you to the ground, reverberating a clank. You crawl away, from the dark liquid puddling the floor. More and more body parts are revealed; a big white toe, fingers of all sizes, another eyeball, and you can only assume the chunks of meat are the entire body. You shake like a leaf in the wind, looking around for something to do! What were you going to do now?!

Your panic is interrupted by a creak in the floorboards outside the kitchen. You snap your head in the detection of the sound to see Miguel standing in the doorway, taking up the whole door with his body. You cower in fear at his physiognomy. His expression is indistinct, bloodshot eyes watching you like a lion catching its prey attempting to sneak off. You stare at each other, both unmoving from your spots. You’re the first to speak, though if it weren’t for the pregnant silence and the motion of your lips, “I’m sorry,” your voice cracks, the lump in your throat making a comeback. “Please don't hurt me.” you whimper.

Miguel saunters towards you, you scoot back still on edge. Miguel knees down, taking your face into his hands. They feel warm. Why? He hushes your cries with such tender you nearly overlook the situation. “I had to,” he spoke up factually. “He came in here, threatening you for telling his mother about the fight. I couldn't let him hurt you again.”

You let out a muffled cry, looking into his crazed eyes bloodstained eyes. He presses a kiss to your forehead and whispers, “I made sure he’d never hurt you again.”

[houpss]

Dawg I’m actually begging crying on my knees for you to do a reverse version where like reader dies protecting skz 😭😭😭 ofc obvi no pressure, like only if you’d like to 🙏🏻🩷 you write so well im like obsessed

ububububu.....I'm very pleased to hear this! thanks for the idea, love 🩷🫂

I'm eating strawberries and crying, I literally feel bad about this job 😭😭😭

SKZ's reaction to your death ver. hyung line

maknae line

It pains me to write this work, my heart breaks and I begin to believe in this nonsense... BUT REMEMBER THAT ONLY PERSONALITIES ARE TAKEN FROM THE REAL SKZ, EVERYTHING REST IS FICTION!

Bang Chan

It happened...suddenly.

Chan returned home before you, he wanted to cook you dinner and then turn on a new movie that he recently found.

He knew that you were stuck at work, so he wasn’t too worried.

An hour has passed... you're gone, but you should be back by now. Two hours have passed, Chan is nervous.

He called you, you didn’t pick up, he called you so many times, but you didn’t hear.

At two o'clock in the morning he receives a call on his phone. He jumps out of bed, hoping it's you calling, but it's just an unfamiliar number.

He picks up the phone, he just hopes you're okay.

"Are you Bang Christopher Chan? I'm sorry..Y/N Bang died."

Chan thought it was a joke, a very unfunny joke.

He can only come to consciousness when he sees your body. Road accident, you didn't survive.

He will ask Changbin, Jisung and Hyunjin to come out quite aggressively, because they came with him.

He ran his fingers over your pale face, tears forming in his eyes. Impossible.

He strokes your hair, strokes your hands, stopping at your fingers...he squeezes your hand tightly. Why did you leave him?

Tears fall on your lifeless body, you would be very upset if you saw Chan crying.

They can only drag him out of your room in the morning, he didn’t want to let go of your body until the end, it was like he was possessed.

"No, don't take me...I have to stay with her! I don't want to be taken away from her"

"she’s probably so cold and scared... she’s alone there, she’s already lifeless.”

He blamed himself, he could have taken you away from work, but why didn’t you ask?

The exit from the hospital is filled with reporters and paparazzi, the shocking news shocked many: “Model and Actress, Bang Chan’s wife Y/N Bang died in a car accident.”

Thanks to the members, they protected Chan from reporters and endless paparazzi. Chan did not walk behind as usual, but in the middle, and a ring was created around the participant.

Chan doesn’t remember anything, he just cried, he cries so much and loudly.

The members refused to leave him, although he asked so. They went to the dorm.

A day has passed... two days have passed... a week has passed. Funeral.

He remembers everything very vaguely, he was the last one to kiss your forehead before the coffin lid was closed.

Now he is completely alone.

He eats very little and hardly leaves the room. Minho literally force feeds him.

Your photos are open on his phone, you are on his wallpaper.

He doesn’t want to live without you, he wants you so much.

His tears never dry, he cries constantly. There are no emotions inside him, he is dead.

He looked through your correspondence... his heart ached madly.

He just loves you so much, he loves only you.

He apologized profusely to your family, it was his fault.

In the end he won't cope and he will leave for you. Chan was found hanged in his room. There was a note on the table with the words: “I can’t live without her, I’m nothing without her... forgive me.”

Lee Minho

People come and go. The simple meaning of life

But you couldn't leave him...not you

If you loved, then you would not have left...WHY DID YOU LEAVE HIM?

Overdose of antidepressants.

He found you in your apartment, you were lying on the bed, wrapped in a blanket... you seemed to be sleeping, but your heart was not beating.

What if he had found you earlier?

He would have stopped you.

He found a letter next to you... your last will and love for him

"𝐈'𝐦 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤...𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰"

"𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐇𝐨"

"𝐈'𝐦 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦��."

IT'S NOT EASIER WITHOUT YOU

He has been crying for several days in a row. Even the members can't pull it out.

He became so aggressive and closed.

His heart rotted and broke without you

He falls asleep with your sweatshirt on, with your perfume on it.

The company releases a statement that Minho is taking an indefinite hiatus from activities.

He wants to close his eyes, open his eyes and have you next to him.

He went through many treatments with you and visited many psychiatrists.

You smiled at him so much, so what happened?

Minho cried for the first time in front of the members, everyone was broken with your death.

After your death, he smoked for the first time.

The cigarette smoke calmed him down at least a little. And in your dreams you came to him, you talked to him a lot.

He became very closed off to himself, even Jisung couldn’t get him to talk.

Everything and everywhere reminded him of you

Your bottle of perfume...your drawings, your rings, your elastic bands, your sweaters

You would curse if you saw him like this.

Only a month later, after your funeral, he dared to pick up your phone.

To mom, dad and sister: “I’m sorry that I’m so weak.. I would like a better life for you, I wanted to live better and happier. I’m a bad daughter.”

To SKZ:"Sorry...be strong, you are world stars and become even more popular..."

To Minho:"I repent of you, I hate myself for what I did. I have about ten minutes left...And in these ten minutes I will continue to love you, Lee Minho. Maybe we will meet in the next life?"

The emotions he had been holding back burst out.

He screamed, his scream deafening the silence.

Physical pain in his heart pierced him. how the bitch it hurts.

Now he's wearing your big jacket.

“Please protect me, Y/N.”

SEO CHANGBIN

"Police lieutenant Seo Y/N was shot..she died while intercepting a drug gang. The ambulance did not have time to arrive"

What did he just hear? Why are they saying your name?

Is this a mistake? Maybe they got it wrong?

He refused to believe it until he was asked to come to the morgue to identify the body.

Yes, you were lying there...a bullet in the forehead.

Changbin turned away, he couldn’t look at you. He's scared.

Probably then he realized all the pain, he stopped living.

Felix and Seungmin forcibly dragged him away from the morgue.

He was never against your work, he was just proud of you. Of course, his wife is a police lieutenant.

He knew it was dangerous, but could anything bad happen to you?

"Changbin, she died a hero, please...be the same hero for her."

There were so many people at your funeral, why did they all come?

Changbin felt lost, Chan was holding his hand. Changbin couldn't navigate the space.

Time doesn't heal anything, remember.

He lost the desire to exist

He hated your job after your death, it's all your damn job.

Will you protect Changbin? Are you his guardian angel?

From time to time he hears your voice.

He will come to your parents and ask for forgiveness.

Really, forgive him.

He will take your dog with him, it seems... the dog really misses you, where is his owner?

Changbin doesn't like music anymore, he stopped working out, he stopped eating.

"Y/N would be upset if she knew that you wanted to leave the group."

"She told you to create for the sake of people's happiness."

"WITHOUT HER THERE IS NO FUCKING THIS HAPPINESS..."

You would like him to continue writing and working.

He will stay for your sake... and for the sake of the members, these three months they kept him afloat, he literally clung to them.

Your dog now has 8 caring men

Changbin brings red Lilies, your favorite flowers, to your grave every week.

Hwang Hyunjin

You have been married for five years, recently celebrated your anniversary.

You were the happiest couple! STAY blessed couple , the participants were incredibly happy about your couple.

You found out that you are pregnant.

Hyunjin was incredibly happy! Members will become uncles to your baby.

Felix took the place of godfather.

Chan and Minho were responsible for choosing the name.

And Changbin, Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin made rooms for your baby!

But...you had a back injury, which made it dangerous to give birth.

You didn't care, you were going to have the baby.

Difficulties began immediately during contractions, Hyunjin was with you all the time.

He was forced to leave the room in the middle of labor.

The members who were waiting in the corridor were very worried.

Sudden silence.

The doctor came out of the maternity room and said: “Congratulations, you have a daughter... please accept my condolences, your wife has died.”

What?

It sounded so absurd.

Hyunjin walked into your room, you looked so tired...so sad. sad aphrodite.

Hyunjin kissed your forehead, one hand on your neck, the other holding your hand.

"Thank you for daughter...and forgive me, I love you very much"

Tears rolled down Hyunjin's cheeks, the tears were like pearls.

Hyunjin went home with the members.. The workers left your daughter in the hospital for several days.

Hyunjin seemed to understand nothing, he understood absolutely nothing.

"The baby will grow up in love, Hyunjin"

"We will all take care of her..she is an extension of Y/N" These words from Chan hurt Hyunjin's heart...He will protect and love his daughter.

Hyunjin is always crying, his eyes are red, his face is swollen from crying.

It hurt even more when Seungmin brought your favorite coffee.

In three days we could pick up our daughter.

All eight participants went to the maternity hospital.

They brought out a small package for you, what a tiny little thing.

Hyunjin looked at the little baby as if he were the eighth wonder of the world, the girl was sleeping. Hyunjin could have sworn that she would look like you.

"We'll call her Viyoung" Why is this in tune with Vendetta?

The guy nodded approvingly, tears flowing down his cheeks again.

The members took turns holding the bundle with the baby in their hands.

"I will love you so much, Viyoung...just like your mother loved you."

“Your uncles will take care of you...you will grow up with complete love.”

They went home, everything will be fine. Your memory will never fade away. Hyunjin will raise a beautiful daughter. She's a copy of you, but with Hyunjin's eyes.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 99

Part 1 Part 98

Steve spends a short three days in the hospital before they start the discharge. It’s surprising, somehow, that spending time slowly dying in the Upside-Down is more traumatic on the body than literal possession. Eddie can’t wrap his head around it. 

He’s sitting on Steve’s bed, hopefully for the last time, hip to hip as he kicks his feet out over and over again at the same tempo of his beating heart. Steve’s got their fingers interlaced on Eddie’s thigh, flexing his own fingers to that same rhythm Eddie’d started up. 

“You think it’ll be much longer?” Steve asks, slumping his head to the side and atop Eddie’s shoulder.

His hair tickles Eddie’s cheek. Eddie wants to reach up and smooth it back, but Steve’s still holding his hand, and the other one doesn’t quite reach. 

“Nah, the old man’s good at getting what he wants.”

“That’s because he’s got the same big, sad eyes as you.”

Eddie squawks in fake affront even as warmth pools in his cheeks. Few people have mentioned a resemblance, and it makes him go soft and gooey every time.  “I don’t have big, sad eyes!” He shakes Steve’s hand around gently in his - he’s always, always gentle. “I’m too tough.”

Steve snorts, small and tired. Even with relatively minor injuries, neither of them have been sleeping well in the small hospital cot. It’s starting to show in the circles beneath Steve’s eyes. Eddie wants to bundle him up in the backseat of Wayne’s truck and tuck him into their bed at home.

They won’t even have to come back. All they’ve got is some sort of cream for Steve’s burns, and Eddie’s bruised ribs and broken nose  are supposed to heal all on their own. His concussion’s already behind him, even if things still go a little wonky if he moves his neck too quickly. 

They can just convalesce. Maybe Wayne will bring them soup. Or burgers from the diner and a strawberry milkshake to split. Anything will be better than the mind-numbing sterility of the hospital, as long as they’re together. 

If only Wayne would hurry the hell up. 

It’s not Wayne who walks in. It’s not any of their friends, or family, or an unnamed doctor in blue scrubs. It’s not anyone he recognizes at all.

It’s a perfectly matched pair - like salt and pepper shakers at a fancy diner. Eddie feels his shoulders curl, a silent question mark to their upright forms. 

The woman looks like a mannequin, in her gray pencil knit skirt and matching cardigan, belted tight enough to make her look like a wine glass. Her hair is a windswept brown and her chin’s raised just so. 

The man’s suit is a pewter gray, matching her skirt perfectly. He has his hands stuffed into the pockets of his slacks, like he’s posing for a catalog as he looms imposingly on the threshold. 

She knocks on the frame of the door, calling a quiet, “knock knock,” as the man strides in. 

Eddie feels Steve’s hair brush against his cheek as he sits up and twists, to look at the new arrivals. Eddie doesn’t look toward him, can’t tear his eyes away from the pair, as the woman comes to stand beside the man, photogenic smile plastered to her face, even as the man glares down at them.

“Steven,” he says, eyebrows furrowed in an expression Eddie knows intimately. He’s seen it on Steve’s own face enough times. It’s less charming on the older, meaner model. 

Steve drops his hand covertly and shuffles slightly to the left and away, leaving Eddie’s hand to flop to the mattress, bereft. 

“Dad,” Steve replies.

Eddie turns, can’t not when Steve’s voice comes out so even, so lifeless, so dead. It’s just like when the mind flayer was running the show. Like Steve’s not there at all.

He is though. And that feels worse, because as Eddie stares at Steve’s perfect profile, he can almost see the years of distance and berating stacking themselves into the clench of his jaw and that familiar furrow of eyebrows. 

“What do you have to say for yourself?” His Dad doesn’t shout, but the hiss somehow still feels like it’s echoing off the bare walls of the hospital room.

Steve flinches back. Eddie sits on his hand as it twitches without his permission to grab onto Steve’s own. 

“For what, sir?” Mrs. Harrington’s perfect face scrunches up into a wince as she looks sidelong at her husband’s stony face. He opens his mouth, eyebrows angrier than ever, and Steve blurts, “I’m sorry.”

It doesn’t help. 

“Sorry,” he says evenly, like his fist wasn’t clenched in preparation for a strike. “Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?”

Steve sits, wordless, as he stares up at him, unblinking. 

Mrs. Harrington sighs. “Oh, Steve.” It sounds sympathetic, but Steve’s back curls in, arms wrapping around his ribs as he looks down at his own hanging feet. 

Eddie sits on his other hand.

Steve remains silent while storm clouds bloom above Mr. Harrington’s head.

Mrs. Harrington sighs, crossing arms and tapping perfectly manicured fingers against her own forearms, that same familiar beat that Steve gravitates toward without any of the soul.

“Sweetie,” she starts, no warmth in her voice or eyes. “I understand that you might have been feeling a little sick, but that’s no excuse for the state you left the house in.”

Eddie looks at Steve out of the corner of his eyes, and sees Steve looking right back, eyebrow quirked up in a silent question Eddie doesn’t know how to answer with witnesses.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says again, looking back down to the linoleum between his feet. 

“You’re sorry?” Mr. Harrington demands, voice raising with each syllable he utters. “You flooded the house, Steven!”

Steve flinches at the sound of his name. Eddie reaches out for the connection between them and plucks it, thrumming it like a guitar. Steve smiles, just a little, down at his socked feet. 

It’s a mistake. Mr. Harrington’s nostrils flare. Eddie sees the resemblance in the way his nose leans just slightly to the left, almost charmingly crooked. But there’s none of that familiar light behind Mr. Harrington’s eyes. He’s an empty pit, a bottomless well.

“We’ve had to replace all of the carpeting on the second floor,” Mrs. Harrington cuts in, looking down at her nails, uncaring as Mr. Harrington’s incensed further by her words.

“We wouldn’t have even known if the Allen’s hadn’t called us!” He’s shouting now, gesturing wildly toward the open door like whoever the Allen’s are, they’re waiting right outside, watching the show.

Mrs. Harrington sighs. “Oh, Richard. Don’t make a scene.”

As if spurred on by his wife’s chastising words, Mr. Harrington’s voice only gets louder. “You soiled the carpet beyond repair.” He punctuates his words with a raised finger, like he’s counting down all the sins he’s ready to lay at his son’s feet. “You made a spectacle of yourself in front of all the neighbors.” Another raised finger. 

He points both fingers  at Steve’s face, finger close enough to his nose that Eddie wants to snap out and bite it. “You left the garage open to be ransacked!” And here comes raised finger number three. 

Steve’s curling further and further into himself, creating distance between his Father’s wagging finger and his vulnerable face. 

“Leaving the door open, Steven?” Mrs. Harrington asks, just as aloof and uncaring of the scene in front of her, even as she says, “we could have been killed.”

Eddie can’t help the snort that comes out. It’s all just such a cartoonish display, almost unbelievable even as he watches it play out in front of him. He slaps his hand over his mouth, but both their gazes have already snapped over to him. 

Well, better him than Stevie. Stevie, who Eddie’s seen with that same curled posture hiding in his closet, and looking up at his own goddamn house from the passenger seat of Eddie’s van.

He’d been straight backed facing down a demogorgon but just the sight of his parents has him fading into himself. No fucking way. Not on Eddie’s watch.

Eddie slaps his own thighs once, sharp enough that it stings. Mrs. Harrington jumps, just a little, at the sound. Eddie stands, shifting on the balls of his feet until he’s just slightly in front of Steve, ready to defend. 

“Wouldn’t you have to actually be home for that?” Eddie asks.

Mrs. Harrington gasps, hand over her cheek like Eddie had slapped her. “Excuse me?” she asks, at the same time that Mr. Harrington demands, “who are you?”

Eddie puts his pointer finger to his chin, pouting like he’s really thinking this through. “You know, I think you’d know that if you were ever actually around.” 

Steve stands, shoulder to shoulder with Eddie as his Dad takes a threatening step toward Eddie. 

“This is Eddie,” Steve says, voice flat and cold. King Steve’s come out to play. Eddie grins, manic and wide in that way that’s always worked to rile up cops and teachers alike. It works just as well on the Harrington’s. He sticks out his tongue and almost laughs again when Mrs. Harrington takes a startled step back. “You’d know that if you gave half a shit about me.”

Mr. Harrington scoffs as he looks Eddie up and down, eyeing the rips in his jeans, the frayed hem of his t-shirt, the unkempt length of his hair. He turns away, dismissing him without even a word as he looks back at Steve. 

“It’s time to go,” he says, glaring down at his son. “We’ll talk about this at home.”

Steve takes a step away from Mr. Harrington’s grasping hands. Eddie reaches out, interlocking their fingers again and squeezing tight. The splint on Steve’s finger sticks out awkwardly, digging into Eddie’s own hand as Steve squeezes right back.

“Eddie is my home,” Steve says, like that isn’t the most romantic thing he’s ever heard.

He almost swoons, even as Mr. Harrington rages, looking between the pair of them, making connections Eddie desperately hopes are true and even more desperately hopes the man won’t go spreading around. 

“Last chance,” Mr. Harrington says. “Or we’re-”

He doesn’t get to finish. Wayne chooses that moment to walk in. His stance goes loose immediately, gaze sharp. 

“Richard,” he says. Calm, cool, and gruff as he meets both their enraged eyes, one after another. “Nora.”

Mrs. Harrington sucks on her teeth, mouth pursed as she holds her silence. Mr. Harrington has no such compunction. 

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

Wayne raises his eyebrow before turning his back on them to run his eyes over Steve and Eddie in turn. “You boys alright?” Steve nods, but Eddie raises his hand to flap it back and forth in a wishy-washy gesture that Wayne grimaces at. “Ready to go home?”

Richard scoffs, taking a threatening step forward. “What do you mean home?” Steve flinches as the last word lands with derision. Steve doesn’t respond, just looks down at his own shoes with a clenched jaw. 

Mrs. Harrington sighs, and it lands in the room like a blow. 

Wayne’s eyes have gone hold and hard as he turns around and steps fully in front of Steve. “Steve’s been staying with me for over a year,” Wayne says, tone modulated and controlled even as his hands clench. “And you didn’t even notice.”

“Steven,” Richard says, a warning hidden in his tone. “Last chance.”

Eddie leans around Wayne to look between the pair. He resists the urge to pull Steve behind him. Eddie squeezes his hand and is floored when Steve’s shoulders immediately straighten, chin raised just so, like he’s keeping his crown straight atop his head. 

He stands, shoulders back, head held high. Eddie stands right along with him. 

“I’m not going with you,” Steve says, boring holes into his Father’s head with the force of his conviction from behind Wayne’s shoulder. 

Mr. Harrington’s  jaw clenches with whatever he sees on Steve’s face. He reaches his hand out, palm open and beckoning. “Give me your keys,” he demands, curling his fingers like he’s in a cheesy karate movie and begging his opponent to make the first move. 

Steve laughs. “You want my car?” His laugh is hollow. “You’ll have to go get it from the trailer park.”

Mrs. Harrington eyes Eddie and Wayne like she’s putting pieces together he’d rather she not have. Even still, she turns away with an airy, “Come on, Richard.” When he doesn’t immediately follow her directions, she continues, “this isn’t the place.”

Mr. Harrington’s snarling like a dog, finger still raised in threat as he hisses, “this isn’t over,” before turning and striding through the door with enough careless force that his shoulder hits the frame with a meaty thwack. 

“See you next year, then!” Eddie calls, waving bitchily at their backs. 

They all stare at the open door, waiting for an attack that never comes until Mrs. Harrington’s heels stop echoing down the corridor. 

“What the hell was that?” Wayne asks gruffly. 

Steve’s jaw is clenched, as he glares out the open doorway, but at Wayne’s question, he slumps, stepping closer to Eddie until he can lay some of his weight onto Eddie’s shoulders. It hurts his ribs, but Eddie takes it gladly, wrapping his hand around Steve’s waist. 

“Just the usual,” Steve says, sounding exhausted. 

Wayne eyes him critically as Steve avoids his gaze. Eddie squeezes Steve’s side, flickering his fingers against his waist just to feel him wriggle against the feeling. 

“Alright, kid,” Wayne says, reaching out to squeeze both their shoulders comfortingly. Steve slumps further into Eddie who gladly takes his weight. “I think it’s about time we all get home.”

Eddie smiles, bumping his hip into Steve. 

He was already home. After all, Steve’s right here. 

Part 100

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb @rainwaterapothecary @practicallybegging

[cobblestone-butch]

jus saw ur post ab sculptor etho muse joel, ik u got forcibly ejected from the writers room but if i make another writers room will u write it /hj

hey tysm! I ended up writing a little something so it will be below <3 this is mostly just Cleo helping Etho realise what might be going on with his struggles to sculpt. I hope people like and mostly that anyone who knows anything about art would write for it too (I know nothing!)

"So, first things first! Why do you want to learn to pose armour stands, Etho? Have you got a specific project in mind?"

There's an awkward pause.

"I only ask so I can get a good idea of what to focus on. It's just good if we start our work with something you're already interested in, right?"

She's never seen Etho look so... Nervous. Learning can be a vulnerable thing, sure, but Etho has never been shy with questions and comments and the unknown the way some people are. It feels wrong to turn to insults, light as they may be, to ease the attention - they're at a complete loss on what to do other than let him work through whatever he's feeling.

"Nothing, there's nothing... Specific I had in mind. It's... I tried sculpting."

"Okay that's good. That's great! What did you like about sculpting?"

"I didn't like sculpting."

Cleo laughs, a mix of confusion and genuine amusement, "Alright! So why do you want to learn 'armorstandography' then?"

Etho is still looking down, picking what she now suspects to be dried clay or quartz from his clothes. His shoulders drop a little from their previously hunched state though, which is a good sign.

"I just figured that maybe it would be easier. N-not that what you do is easy, I mean, you're clearly very skilled, and that's why I've asked you-"

"Etho, slow down, it's okay. I am perfectly assured in what I do and how much effort it takes. But still, I appreciate it."

"I thought maybe something with color would be more, familiar? I like vibrant colors and how they go together, and sculpting out of quartz is so... Lifeless."

Cleo shakes her head, "I won't teach you, Etho."

Etho snaps his head upwards, looking for some sign that it's some dry British humor he's missed. Cleo's face is even more stony than his recent attempts at sculpting.

"I won't teach you", they repeat, "Not for that reason. Color won't inject life into what you make, Etho. I won't teach you something that isn't true."

"Uh huh..."

"And besides, I don't think I believe you. I bet your sculptures have plenty of life in them." Cleo sees a frown pull on Etho's features, "Go on, prove me wrong."

---

Etho puts his hand on the door leading to his storage area. It's a big enough space for art projects, and it's nice to hear items sort themselves as he works, frustrated as he's been with the outcome of his endeavours recently. Cleo reads his hesitance immediately, and knows that Etho won't find comfort in their reassuring words. Here, at the doorway, she pushes past him.

She's drawn to her own face first. Sat on a block is her own head, looking back at her. She sees her own soft features, big eyes and strong nose. A dozen other faces around the room, and she can just about identify them as their friends. There's one off to the side, hidden enough to not drawn attention but not hidden too much, as if he's given himself plausible deniability for doing it. Etho's problem is not that his sculptures look lifeless. Etho's problem is denial.

It takes Cleo seconds to spot and minutes to confirm - there's only one sculpture amongst the collection that properly resembles the person it's modelled after. Every other head or bust has been affected by it, flawed in different ways but for the exact same reason. They all look a bit too much like Joel. It's in the furrow of her brow, the fierceness of Scar's smile, the curl of Doc's hair. Their eyes are all bright, smiles meeting them in genuine warmth, and Cleo can see even with just quartz how skilled Etho is at what he does.

Cleo isn't sure how aware Etho is that he's making them all in Joel's image, so they opt for asking something less direct, "What do you think the problem is? With these sculptures?"

"They're all... Wrong. I just can't get anyone right, and I'm not exactly going for artistic liberty."

Cleo laughs kindly, "That's not exactly true, is it? I can see one that's particularly uncanny."

"Uncanny valley?" Etho makes the joke before she can, but it's not what she was pitching for.

She walks over to and stands behind the sculpture of Joel. "I like this one. I've definitely seen this face before I've died a few times."

Etho laughs, and it stops the ever-shifting of his feet and the picking at his hands. He runs a hand through his hair, letting it rest at his neck as he rubs at it in slight shame. "He's, ah, a vicious one, Joel. He does this little huff thing, and it sounds like a tiger- he's always in some kind of mood and it's always so big, he can't do anything calmly or slowly, you've seen how quickly he builds, and, I just thought what's the most 'Joel' face I can think of? I remembered how he looked building that TNT cannon..."

Cleo lets him talk. It's nice, after all the awkward, to see him talk to openly about all the thoughts that went into the Joel sculpture. She can almost see what he means when he says the other attempts are lifeless; the animation in his voice when he talks about Joel makes everything else pale in comparison. She doesn't think he realises.

"Do you know what a muse is?" They ask after Etho has run himself out of steam, or perhaps noticed a conspicuous lack of interjection from Cleo, a usually very active listener.

"You mean like an inspiration?"

"Yeah! Well, sort of. In Greek mythology, the Muses were goddesses, and their domains included art of all kinds. And we've sort of derived meaning from that, so plenty of artists say they have muses that inspire them. And it helps them make art even if it's not always about them."

"Uh huh. So you think that I need to find my muse?"

"I think you already have, Etho." She looks down at the head between them, and Etho follows her gaze. Joel's eyes look back at him, intense and alive and challenging. He averts his gaze, something complicated settling over him - what they shared was so long ago, in a time and place so far from here. To feel the pull of that, it feels cosmic and mythical in a way Etho naturally rejects.

It's like Cleo can see through him, always. "It doesn't have to be complicated. It can be as simple as knowing someone well enough to capture a second of their likeness. That's what a lot of my armour stands do, they're just snapshots in time. Maybe you should just talk to Joel."

"Oh, I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"He'll be insufferable about it."

Cleo actually snorts at that. "Fine then, don't talk to him. Just make more excuses to send him mail and wait for an extrovert to bring you to his base to talk, or whatever it is that you guys do."

"You're not far off, Cleo."

"Oh, I know. I have to hear all about it."

"What?! The next time I see Scar..."

---

Joel stares back into his own eyes. The head was left at the gate to his base, like something the mafia might do as a threat. There was a single sign next to it: Feel free to alter or remove - Etho. It's incredible, seeing his likeness through someone else's eyes. He didn't know his hair was so fluffy, his smile so sharp. He picks up the head with a grunt (Bloomin' heck, is this thing solid quartz?!) and moves it somewhere it can be seen, before pulling a book from the chest under his mailbox and penning his sculptor a message.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞 [Part 1/Intro]

In which Jungkook has never fallen in love before- not until you came along, at least.

Tags/Warnings: Hybrid AU, Munchkin Cat!Reader, Siberian Tiger!Jungkook, DDLG aspects but they're very mild in this chapter, Daddy!Jungkook, height difference, strangers to lovers, mild Angst, Fluff!, quiet!Reader, Model!Kook, mentions of death & grieving (but only brief), romance, manhandling, strength kink (implied), biting, hybrid behavior (scenting, marking, grooming and other)

Legth: Long ~7K words

Additional Content: None (yet)

A/N: Dinner is served, but split into multiple courses cause tumblr app can't handle this buffet.

-> Masterlist

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"And this is where most level 4 hybrids usually reside, plus a few of the more social level 5's." The CEO explains, walking into the large hall together with Jungkook and his management.

He's a little upset at some of the things he's seen until now - so many of his own kind kept in a place like this simply because they're alienated by society. "Older hybrids above the age of twenty-one statistically stay permanently in housing, so once they reach that age, they don't have to wear any identification within the facility here." The man explains further, motioning towards some hybrids who sit at a table without any collars on, some eating, others talking.

"Would it be possible to involve some of them into the campaign?" Jungkook's manager asks, while he himself takes a look around, hands in his pockets. It's not often that his hybrid senses notice anything at all- having become more or less 'dull' from lack of use, really, since he's mostly surrounded by humans in his daily life. He's not around hybrids often, so today, it's quite overwhelming.

In an exciting way though, weirdly enough.

Jungkook and his management had been thinking and planning such a campaign to raise awareness and money for hybrid care for a while now. As a hybrid himself, he's pretty vocal about his opinions on certain topics- though, of course, he can't always say what he wants to in order to stay 'brand safe' down the line.

"I wouldn't recommend it, honestly. You know, most of these-" The man motions towards the table where Jungkook can spot a very short-looking cat hybrid, sitting by herself alone with her head on the table, legs swinging around as they fail to reach the floor from the height of the bench. "-Are, like I said, either 4 or 5 on the scale, so they probably won't understand what you want them to do." He chuckles.

"What about her?" Jungkook asks, nodding towards where you sit at the table, wearing a simple cotton dress, socks and no shoes, fluffy hybrid tail hanging almost entirely unmoving down to the floor.

It's unnerving to him. As if you're lifeless.

"Very good eye. I've seen her earlier- I think she could make for a very good contrast compared to you." The manager agrees- though the CEO clearly seems not on board with idea.

"I mean, she's got a pretty face, but that's really about it." He, in Jungkook's opinion, rudely comments, making him harden his gaze at the man. "Listen, when you run a place like this, you've got to stay realistic. She's got a lot of health and social issues and doesn't really respond well at all in general, so I'd suggest we look more into the other hybrids." He offers-

But Jungkook is an untamed tiger that rarely ever listens, so it's not surprising that he just decides to walk over to you to find out for himself what this is all about. Mainly because somehow, something feels off about this whole situation- and also, because there's an odd pull he feels towards you, like he's met you before but can't remember.

When he sits down next to you, with some distance of course, you sit up- looking at him for a moment, as if you're going through the same thought-process he had just moments prior. "Hey." He greets, waving his hand a little, unsure for a moment-

Until you smile, waving back, tail starting to move now. So much for 'she doesn't respond', he thinks to himself.

"You seem pretty bored." He asks you, getting into a more relaxed position next to you, his own tail curling over his lap- something you notice with interest, it seems like. "Is there nothing to do here today?" He asks, resting his head on his hand as his elbow is perched up on the table.

You shake your head. "Never." You answer him, and he pouts in sympathy. "I want to- hm.." You seem to think hard about how to voice out your thoughts. You stutter a lot, no matter how much you concentrate- and since the careworkers here get frustrated with your speech easily, you've taught yourself to talk more shortened to avoid stuttering. "Back home. I.. go to- no.." You seem frustrated now, and Jungkook chuckles- something you might mistake for something it's not, he realizes. "Sorry. I don't talk well." You offer, but he shakes his head.

"No no, you're completely fine, take your time." He nods, and you nod as well.

"Back home." You start again, and he nods, making sure you know he's following. "I took, speaking class..es. Classes." You explain, and Jungkook hums a reply, understanding what you're talking about. "But now.. not anymore. He says- I don't need. Them. Don't need them." You explain, your own hybrid tail now curling around you as well so you can hold onto it, a clear sign of self-soothing. "Because I stay."

"I'm sure someone like you has no issues finding someone to live with." Jungkook offers, and you seem to not take it seriously. "No, really. I know a couple of people who'd love to offer a place for an older hybrid." He shrugs.

"No. I stay." You tell him, almost with a disappointed undertone- a bell suddenly ringing, making you stand up and grab your empty cup from the table. "Uhm, thanks." You say as a form of goodbye, bowing politely to him- before you follow the other hybrids into a different area it seems, leaving him alone at the table until his manager finds him later.

Now he's definitely sure something's not right here.

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The next day when he arrives, still a little sleepy, he doesn't spot you until he almost throws his stuff on top of you by accident. You're asleep in a corner, and a careworker immediately picks up on it. "I'm so sorry- she sometimes sleepwalks!" The lady apologizes, and before Jungkook can even say anything, she's already calling your name, shaking you awake. You don't even seem to realize what's really going on as the worker pulls you away- leaving Jungkook by himself, only trace of you left being a small flower shaped pillow he stares at for a moment. Your scent still clings heavy onto it- though there's a slightly burned bitter hint to it, a hint of something sad.

In a way, he doesn't know if he believes sleepwalking to be the actual reason here. His friend, Namjoon, owns a hybrid as well after all- and Jimin does this too, sometimes, because he doesn't like to sleep alone.

And later, when he's in makeup and the hybrids in the main hall close by are all eating breakfast, he's aware that the facility must be putting more effort into things than usual with him and his entire team present- because he's not stupid. A lot of the hybrids seem confused about certain things, while others flat out appear nervous and uncomfortable by the unfamiliar energy today, bad at hiding their behavior due to their lack of social understanding. Meanwhile you're almost falling asleep at the table, clearly not awake at all yet.

Or maybe you just didn't sleep well?

There's definitely something about you he can't explain. It's like there's a voice inside his head that's not his own that keeps feeding him ideas of what he could do. Maybe he could share his own food during his break with you? He also needs to make sure you get your pillow back at some point. Or he could take it home to have something of you with him-

"You've got an eye on the munchkin?" His makeup artist giggles as she does his hair. "Weird that she's here, isn't it? She doesn't seem like one that's hard to find a suiting home for." She mumbles, and Jungkook agrees with a hum. "One of the workers here told me the CEO denies all potential adoptions though." She shrugs.

"Why would he do that?" Jungkook asks, a little wary of the answer he might receive. After all, he's heard many horror stories of what goes on behind closed doors in some hybrid shelters.

"I mean, it's a rumor but-" She sighs. "-So her old owner was a retired hybrid specialist, right? He died of old age about two or three years ago, according to an employee I spoke with earlier." She explains, switching to a different comb to fix his hair into place. "But that's where it gets weird. Her old owner, right? Well he like, created a trust fund for her in case something was to happen to him, so she would be taken care of financially." She explains further what she's heard. "But, when she was given into the care of this center, apparently, the CEO took advantage of her grieving, and is now using the money for himself."

"Explains why he would want to keep her here." Jungkook mumbles more or less to himself. "Because as long as she's here.."

"He can justify using the money to cover her expenses." She finishes for him.

"That's fucked up." Jungkook says. "Is there any proof of it?" He wonders, and she shrugs.

"Well the worker said she herself is pretty vocal about it. She knows what's going on- but no one believes her, because the CEO has her under file as a category 5 even though she's not." She tells him. "I mean, it's smart. Legally speaking, nothing she says would ever be taken into consideration because of that. I remember, my aunt has a 5 who witnessed someone getting assaulted near a grocery store when they went to Busan last year. But nothing he was saying could be taken as evidence basically because the legal system is so oddly structured." She sighs.

"It's a mess, isn't it." The model talks to himself mostly, phone in his hand as he spins it around. "I tend to forget how screwed up the system really is." He says.

"Well, a lot of people tend to forget you're part hybrid as well." She giggles, finishing up. It's true- while he's got his tail and his ears, he's become a pro at acting human- ignoring his own instincts in daily life to instead cater to the broader audience of the human world rather than appealing to his own kind. "Maybe this is all a good idea. An opportunity." She offers.

"Opportunity for what?" He wonders, and she shrugs.

"Who knows."

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The more he observes and interacts with you, the less it makes sense to him how you could ever pass as a category 5 hybrid.

Sure, you've got some trouble articulating yourself, but you're also clearly aware of everything going on around you, you're very emotionally intelligent, you understand social concepts perfectly fine, and you're also pretty independent. You don't need much help with things others of your alleged category clearly struggle with.

He'd spotted you helping many of the other hybrids to button up their coats or tie their shoes (though he has to admit, your tying seemed like it was a pretty challenging task to you) or even collect the dishes and balance them perfectly fine to offer some aid to the kitchen staff at lunch. He knows what category 5 have problems with, they typically struggle with tasks like that. He's lived with one growing up, after all; the younger boy next door always coming over during the holidays because his parents were friends with his owners.

But you? No, you don't share much of those characteristics typical.

Maybe there really is some truth to those rumors going around.

"What're they doing?" He asks a janitor, who looks surprised to be acknowledged, before he watches all the hybrids as well as they all get dressed into outdoor-clothes.

"Oh, Every week they get outdoor activities, you know, to keep them healthy!" The elderly man nods. "Keeps the immune system up and running." He laughs, and Jungkook nods, agreeing. "You look like you want to go with them? If you ask Penny over there, she might let you tag along." He offers, and Jungkook decides, on the spot-

yeah, he wants to tag along.

So he finds his manager, tells him his plan- and leaves, before he can argue too much- though the man doesn't even attempt to do so, seemingly happy that Jungkook is growing friendly with you.

"Oh, careful." Jungkook says, holding the door for you as it almost closes behind another hybrid who'd forgotten to hold it himself. You look up at him, nodding, before you walk outside with him right behind you. "The janitor said you go outside every week." He attempts conversation, and you nod, in typical fashion, looking at the other hybrids in front of you holding hands as they walk behind each other in pairs.

All but you.

"You can hold mine, if you want." Jungkook tells you, and he can't help but grin a bit adoringly at the way you almost instantly take the offer, hand grabbing his as you hold onto it with confidence- your steps becoming a bit more bouncy as if boosted by his presence. It makes his own tail sway rhythmically with every step as well, especially when you all stop at a red light and he swears he can hear you purr under your breath, ears moving around to catch every noise it seems. "You're cute." He comments, and you look up at him with a smile.

"Thank you." You tell him, before you both follow the group of hybrids and the workers to a large field, most hybrids already running to get balls and other items to play with. "Do you.. sport?" You ask. "Like?"

"I do. I like sports a lot, actually." He nods, and you nod as well, watching the other hybrids. "You?" He wonders, and you huff a bit in disappointment, though you nod.

"Makes me.." Your hand goes to your upper chest, before pointing at it. "Cough." You try and explain and he hums in understanding.

"Asthma?" He asks, wondering if you know what he's talking about- and much to his surprise, you nod.

"I need, plastic..thing." You explain, hands gesturing as if to map out the inhaler as you're unable to recall the word in the moment. But the way he keeps reassuring you, keeps treating you so normally, makes you confident in communicating with him. "But- he says, no." You shake your head.

"The CEO?" He wonders, and you nod, sitting down on the grass, leading him to do so as well, though he gently points to his lap for you to sit on. "So your dress doesn't get dirty." He explains, and you nod, happily taking your seat on his thighs. The purr he feels against his chest fuels his ego like nothing ever before, his tail wrapping around him and you to lay in your lap. "I heard he's.. doing some shady stuff."

"He takes.. money." You shrug. "But, hm." You just hum, shrugging your shoulders in defeat.

"What if you got an evaluation done?" He wonders, watching the other hybrids play with you. "To gain proof that you're not a category 5? That way you could go against him, no?" He asks, but you shake your head.

"Can't." You answer him. "Only owner."

"Shit.." He mumbles to himself, remembering as well. Only an owner can actually file in to get an evaluation done- and those things are expensive, not funded by the government at all. Without an owner, you're caught in the trap- and while caught in the trap, you can't get an owner. It's like the snake that's biting it's own tail; doomed.

And right now, he's got no clue how to help you.

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"But, let's say, technically speaking.." Jungkook starts to speak between bites of food, looking at Namjoon in front of him. "I'm barely a category 2, right? So, legally, I could own a hybrid." He asks, and Namjoon seems to think about it. Jungkook could in fact be counted as a simple category one if it wasn't for his ears and tail- but that might just be because these days, he's learned to ignore his instincts rather than embrace them.

"I mean, yeah, legally speaking, you can." He offers, nodding. "But like, why would you? You never had any interest in that." He asks confused, even a bit suspicious. Jungkook has been used for his kindness before, so the older friend tends to become wary of odd things asked.

"I think.. no, I found my mate. At the Seoul care center, where we're shooting the whole campaign right now." He offers, opening his can of beer. "And I want to get her out of there. There's some shady shit going on, and I don't want her to be caught in the crossfire before I pop that bubble."

"Jungkook, that doesn't sound like a good idea at all. Pop a bubble?" Namjoon worries instantly, putting his chopsticks down. "That's seoul central care we're talking about. Their legal team is crazy good." He argues, well aware of these things.

"I know." Jungkook nods. "But the evidence is better. Listen -" He shakes his head. "I won't personally be the one to do it. But some of the staff.. they've been talking. And for good reason." The tiger hybrid explains. "Someone is gonna blow that shit up soon, and I need to get her out before that happens. Considering what that guy has been doing already, I'm pretty sure he would, I don't know, send her overseas or some shit to avoid losing access to her money." He tells his friend.

"You know I can't tell you what to do, Jungkook." Namjoon offers, pushing his leftover food towards a sleepy Jimin, who silently starts to eat next to his owner. "But.. if things go south, I'll try and help best I can." he promises, making Jungkook nod in appreciation.

"Thanks."

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It's safe to say that Jungkook is more than just friendly with you now.

He knows it pisses off the man that tries to present himself as a saint with realistic opinions on the modern way hybrids are handled- and in a way, it satisfies Jungkook deep in his soul.

You're also a lot more vibrant it seems like, visibly perking up the minute he arrives at the center every morning to shoot his photos and small videos. It's adorable to see, really; especially today, when he offers you a new pair of boots, way better suited for you than the old worn down one's you kept wearing every time you went outside. They're of soft materials, pale pastel colors, fluffy accents on the sides, and your eyes widen in wonder at the sight of them. "I hope they fit. I bought those because they have laces- so you can adjust them if the size isn't perfect." He explains to you, and you nod slowly, holding onto them like they're some form of golden treasure.

You also continue to watch him during his shoot, clearly just as interested in him as he is in you at this point.

Staff has noticed, workers have noticed, his manager has noticed, and granted, everyone's pretty happy about it. You're seemingly a very nice fit, a good balance to the otherwise rather wild and untamed tiger hybrid known to sometimes act out of line. He's clumsy with his words at times, his actions often leading to consequences he's not thought of, though he never does anything will ill intend.

Right now, he's got you back on his lap, sharing a round cream filled donut with you, your tail going wild behind you as you enjoy the sugary treat. "Say, I've got a question.." He wonders, your ears turning on your head towards him, a clear sign that you're paying attention to him. "Would you like to.. you know, maybe live together with me?" He asks, and at that, you freeze, before you turn around towards him. "I mean it. I know, you think that might not be possible- but I want to try, at least, to make it possible." He explains.

"Busy." You tell him, before you watch his manager talk to some caretakers a little further away. "It's.. hm. Don't have to." You shrug, trying to grab the last bite he's holding in his hand, just for him to hold it out of reach.

"That's not an answer though." He teases. "You can also just.. I don't know- live with me as like, a foster situation maybe? Just to see if it would work." He offers, while you whine, reaching out for his food he'd been sharing with you until now, one of his arms holding you back securely while the other holds the last piece too far away. "Answer first, kitty." He hums close to your ear, making you freeze for a second as your tail swipes from side to side in excitement. He's so close now, and if he wanted to, a kiss would just be a tiny move now.

But he behaves himself. All in due time.

"Ok." You nod, because why not? He's nice, he's your mate after all, and you like him.

What could go wrong?

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He's still irritated. You don't deserve any of this.

He hopes he might be able to get the paperwork signed- and you out of this place as soon as he can. There's technically nothing speaking against it after all; he's a level 2 at the end of the day, his hybrid side a lot less dominant than in someone like you. And while it's made him feel like an outcast for a long time, feeling like he doesn't belong neither here nor there- looking at you now, his feelings have changed.

He feels glad, for the first time, that he's the way he is.

"If she's getting too much you can just tell her to go play or something." One of the workers tells him as she'd spotted him with you still somewhat laying on his thigh, his hand comfortably resting on your shoulder while you play with his rings on his other hand. "She tends to get clingy with anybody who pays attention to her." She snickers, but he shakes his head.

"No, it's really fine." He denies her, well aware that she's been eyeing him ever since he'd gotten here the first day, and he can't hold back on his next words. "I actually think she's cute." He smiles down at you, and your cat-ears twitch at that before you look up at him, making him laugh.

"I mean.. I guess? Maybe it's a hybrid thing that you like her." She shrugs, crossing her arms. "But she's gotta move soon, your manager told me they wanna take some more shots." She says with more bite to her tone now- and in a way, it satisfies Jungkook.

He lets you rest on him for a little longer- until he pulls out something from his bag, brown paperbag containing a baked treat you know all too well.

He brings it every time, ever since you've told him you like it, after all.

"Nuh-ah." He chuckles when you instantly sit up and reach for it, turning his body a little towards you on the bench before he holds out the donut, testing the waters. And for his own amusement.

And much to his said amusement, you do exactly what he hoped you would.

Without thinking much it seems like, you lean forward to take a bite out of the sweet treat while he's still holding it- and he can't help but smile at the scene. You're so unaware of your own appeal, completely oblivious to how charming you are, and in a way, it makes him upset. You really are just a soft soul being used and nothing else- and he just feels like he's got to offer his protection.

Because you deserve it- and because he wants to be that protector.

Mostly because the connection you both have to one another is undeniable. Mates are an odd thing; but they're a real thing at the end of the day, and it's clear now that he's found his own in you.

You seem to have a moment of realization after the second bite, ears turning before your head follows as a worker says something Jungkook himself doesn't quite catch- but he knows he doesn't like it. "Hey- I'm over here." He tells you, and you look at him with a more shy expression now, almost embarrassed- letting go of his wrist as you sit back down on the bench, visibly uncomfortable. "Dont listen to them. I'm more interesting, am I not?" He teases to get your attention back, reaching out to wipe a crumb from the corner of your lips, making you smile a bit shyly to yourself.

You're so easy to catch.

"Why.." you start, seemingly thinking about your words. You do that a lot, he noticed- you either don't talk at all, or very quietly, and in a way, he's not sure if that's been something they pushed onto you in the carecenter here, or if you've always been this way. He wants to find out, that's for sure. "Why do you.. like me?" You ask, visibly unsatisfied with how you formulated that sentence. It's another proof of your difference in hybrid level compared to Jungkook.

But no matter, he will learn to understand you, until he no longer needs you to speak at all.

Jungkook simply shrugs at your question. "Maybe a mate thing. Maybe just because I like you." He answers. "I don't need to have a reason for it, though. You're a very sweet person, very likable." He tells you before he breaks off another piece of the donut, holding it out. "Now come on. Be a good girl and finish up, alright?" He teasingly tells you as he eats the other leftover piece himself, just to pull yours away from you when you reach out for it with your hand. "Nop." He chuckles, making you glare at him, tail swiping behind you from side to side, and he can't help but laugh at the scene, head thrown back.

Adorable.

Until he feels your lips brush against the tips of his fingers as you snatch the last piece of your treat from him, his gaze immediately back on you as you watch his reaction with a more challenging expression, and he can't help but be intrigued.

"I feel like it'll be a good idea. Jungkook!" His manager smiles, walking up to you both. "You've got her there already, perfect. We'd like to include her in the next few shots tomorrow, see how she does." He tells him, and Jungkook looks at you who seems visibly uncertain.

"You okay with that?" Jungkook asks, and you look at the camera set up close by with an almost fearful expression. "Dont worry. They'll tell you what to do, and I'll help as well. Or is it something else?" He asks, making you move to sit on the bench more properly, feet almost touching the floor, but not quite. He realizes what might be the problem when a staff member accidentally let's a brush fall to the floor, your ears instantly flattening for a short second from the harsh sound. "Ah- does the camera sound scare you?" And you nod at that, making his manager laugh a bit.

"Oh no, don't be scared! It's totally normal. Maybe Jungkook can show you how it works?" He says, before looking over at the careworker close to him. "My son has a hybrid too- he used to hate the sound of the microwave too until my son explained to him how it functioned." He chuckles. Jungkook remembers that. Namjoon and Jimin are an odd couple, but weirdly, they also fit perfectly.

"I don't think she'll understand that, but you can try." The careworker shrugs disinterested, clearly upset at Jungkooks lack of interest in her.

"Come on, let's have a look then." Jungkook simply tells you with no thought wasted on the woman, as he walks to the big cameras with you, Taehyung already looking your way. "Hey, can you maybe explain to her why the camera makes that noise?" Jungkook asks his friend, who nods at you.

"Its pretty loud, isn't it?" He tells you, and you nod- standing on the tips of your toes to try and see through the lens, but to no use. "You're so short!" Taehyung chuckles, and Jungkook can't help but be amused too.

"Hm, here, you can step on that." He offers, sliding an upside-down thick plastic bucket close to you to stand on; his hands instinctively on your body yo steady you as you step onto the container.

"Alright, so.." Taehyung starts to explain the camera to you, and Jungkook can't help but be thankful that his friend is clearly aware of the fact that you're not a stupid child- the photographer never oversimplifying anything, simply telling you the general mechanics to make sure you understand what's happening, that nothing is breaking or could cause any harm. And then the camera makes its distinctive sound.

Your ears still flatten for a split second, but your body makes no sign of being scared or surprised any longer. It worked.

"I can't turn it off, sadly. It's a mechanical sound, so there's no way around it." Taehyung shrugs towards his friend, and Jungkook simply nods.

"It'll be fine." Jungkook says, helping you down from the bucket as the manager says his goodbyes to the first staff. It reminds Jungkook of something in that moment he almost forgot. "Alright, go get your stuff now. I'll go change and then we can go, alright?" He asks, and you seem confused- until you seem to realize.

You're going home with him today. And tomorrow. And the day after, too.

Jungkook can't help but laugh when you dash off into the hallway to get your things, as he himself goes to change himself. He really hopes you'll like it at his place, hopefully enough to decide to stay- and if you do, all he needs are your papers signed and approved. He hates the way the system works, but he also understands it somewhat.

Even though it's clear that not everything goes exactly as it's meant to be.

But once you're with him, once he's got you safe, there will be no more of this. He'll make sure the world gets to know what's going on behind closed doors, having already discussed the plans with his management after all- and he can't deny his anticipation.

He can't wait to see that man lose all he's never even deserved to have in the first place.

But before he can even think any further about those things happening, you're pulling on the hem of his sweater to gain his attention, already dressed in scarf and coat and those fluffy boots he'd bought you yesterday- a lot better quality than those worn down things they'd given you. You deserve to be spoiled in his opinion, not tossed aside like you've been for God knows how many years- and he'll make sure that'll happen.

"Come on." He smiles at you, taking your bag for you as he walks outside the building to his car, opening the door. "We can sleep early or have some food delivered- what would you like?" He asks, getting into the car after you, the driver closing the door after him as he's finally seated next to you, seat belts clicking into place for the both of you.

You shrug as an answer, and he laughs, watching as you yawn, the tiger teasingly pointing his finger into your mouth- but he doesn't expect you to close it so quickly. While you don't bite down on it (at least not hard enough to ever really hurt), he still can't help but be affected by it. Especially when he pushes down on your lower lip, your tongue jokingly licking the tip of his finger, making him smirk at you.

Behind your innocent facade does slumber a tiny little tiger too, in a way, it seems like.

And he honestly doesn't know if he can handle having you around him like this for much longer, while not doing anything about it at all. He's already almost kissed you yesterday, and by now he knows you feel just as attracted to him as he does to you.

You're mates after all. Similar age. Technically in the same hybrid group. Nothing speaks against it.

And yet he's got to be careful. He doesn't want to end up breaking your heart if things don't go as expected- he'd hate leaving you devastated. And yet still he feels as if he'd die soon if he doesn't at least get to feel your lips on his- there's nothing wrong with at least a kiss, right? Maybe just a little further than that- his couch his comfortable after all, and he for sure won't be able to withstand the temptation of at least holding you close with you staying with him tonight. "Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight? I can take the couch, no problems." He asks you to distract himself, ground himself again and get his mind off of things-

But then you visibly pout, ears drooping down a little as you look at him almost disappointed.

"Not.. with you?" You mumble, and his gaze focuses on you again, pupils dilated as he swallows thickly.

"I mean, I won't say no." He tells you, eyes never leaving yours. "But I probably should." He says, making you tilt your head in question. Though in your eyes, in the way they sparkle mischievously, he knows you're very much aware of the implications.

"You won't." You simply smile next to him, legs stretching and tail swaying from side to side, and all he can think of is brat. There's no trace of the shy little cat left it seems like right now, as you look at him all confident and almost challenging.

And yet, he can't disagree.

He won't say no.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

He can't describe the feeling of watching you roll around on his couch, freshly showered and dressed in comfortable clothes.

You did an almost complete flip around from your usual behavior at the carecenter, right now completely relaxed, happily purring as you nuzzle the fabric of a pillow on his couch to cover it with your scent. You're so at ease, obviously feeling safe in his home, and it makes him incredibly proud, because that's exactly what he wants to provide to you.

A safe space.

"Happy?" He asks you with a chuckle, watching as you roll over, nodding at him while laying on your back.

"We'll stay home tomorrow, you know, to spend some time together." He informs you, sitting down close to your head. His hand is pushing into the couch next to your face, and you look at it for a second, seemingly very interested in the black bracelet he's wearing- before you grab his wrist, and bite into his arm.

It surprises him more than anything, thinking he might've come off too strong- but it doesn't hurt, and you're looking at him as if you're actually expecting a reaction from him. You're not trying to hurt him. You're not angry or upset in the slightest.

It's a love-bite.

"You are the most adorable thing-" He chuckles, grabbing onto your wrists to pull you over his lap and sit you up, "-I've ever met, you know that?" He flirts, looking at you, your tail swishing from side to side behind you in excitement, before your ears turn to the sides, flat outwards, as you wiggle out of his grasp, running down the hallway into your room.

He's laughing, entirely amused by your sudden zoomies, as you peek around the corner of your door, before you hide away again, this time running into his room instead. He's watching how you suddenly come dashing out, sliding over his smooth floor on your knees protected by your thigh high socks, holding onto the edge of the backrest of the couch he's sitting on, staring up at him with wide open eyes.

It sort of invites him almost, as his hands grab your wrists again, easily pulling you up and over the back of the couch, leaving you belly down on over his lap, his arms holding you down as he nuzzles into the back of your neck, making you laugh.

You like it when he plays with you like this- proves his strength to you, his capabilities of keeping you safe. Shows you that his physique isn't just for show and anesthetics.

"You know I like you, don't you?" He wonders, and you nod easily at that, turning over on his lap, trusting in the fact that he'll make sure you don't roll off- and he does in fact make sure you don't, carefully holding onto you, and even adjusting the hem of your dress for you. "How do you feel about that?" He wonders, and you shrug, hand reaching out to play with his necklace.

"Happy." You just state, your attention clearly not entirely on him but more on your chosen toy. He notices that, takes the pendant away from your hands before he throws it over his shoulder, effectively removing it from your reach. And you don't roll like that, fingers instantly pulling on the necklace at his throat to pull it back- though he now holds your hand in his.

"Eyes up here, darling." He says, and you pout, though you comply. "Good. Now give me a proper answer." He demands, and you stretch your legs a little before going limp again.

"Happy.. really." You nod. "You're.. my mate." You tell him, and he smiles, nodding.

"That I am." He agrees, looking down at your lips before his haze moves up to your eyes again. "And you're mine." He says.

"Am I?" You challenge, making his gaze sharpen as he notices your clear intentions as you wiggle out of his lap and instead of the couch next to him, feet pushing against the outside of his thigh.

And he easily takes on your little challenge, well aware that you're no match for him at the end of the day.

It starts as nothing but slightly tickling kisses, ends of his hair brushing over your skin and making you giggle, before be chuckles, and bites at your neck. It's a lot more gentle than you thought he might be- but it's also clear that he's simply playing with you, no intent for anything more right now.

He'd live to play with you like that as well- but all in due time.

Your tail smacks loudly against the leather of the couch, his antics fueling your instincts as your ears pin back. He wonders how much you can take- until you move as well, biting his shoulder, this time leaving a clear mark that tells him you're at your limit.

Cute.

"Now there's no question, is there?" He wonders, moving around with you in his arms to hold you, kissing his mark to calm you down. "Now you're mine." He hums against your skin, and you nod, his slightly rough tongue moving over the tender spot once.

He catches himself in the act, surprised at it. He's never done that before- never, not even in past relationships. He doesn't even know why he did that, it's a little weird, no? Sure, he's a hybrid, but he's mostly human. He's never attempted to.. Groom a partner like this before.

But you don't seem bothered- in fact, you're happily purring in his arms, relaxed and comfortable.

"Yours." You mumble sleepily, yawning before you turn to cling to him, rubbing your cheek against his shirt to get your scent on him.

And he can't help but curl his tail around yours, feeling like everything has finally fallen into place for him.

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[vase-of-lilies]

His Sister's Keepers

Paring: Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x Little!Barnes!Reader (f) x Mama!Natasha Romanoff (Bucky Barnes x Sister!Reader - not romantic at all)

Warnings: Forced Age regression, this is a dark AU, Reader is in little space when she meets Bucky again — but goes back to adult space later in the fic, faking readers death, angry bucky, drugging (use of Rohypnol), long car ride, profanity, mentions of a suicide letter, and other warnings. Do not proceed if any of these matters upset you. 

Request: How does Bucky react to his sister Tiny Reader being with Wanda and Nat all along? I love your fics 😭🩷 + Ok but like reader going back to finally see Bucky again dressed in an oversized hoodie with woodland creatures on it and space buns with ribbons in her hair oh and fuzzy socks 😍. Sorry I feel like a bean rn and this sounds so cute (girl literally no problem I love feeling like a smol bean 🥹)

A/N: Thank you for the kind words!! I am SUPER excited to post this one! I think this will be in order after all the drabbles, and then once Bucky finds out we can do more requests with Bucky included:) This was based off of the request, but I took more inspiration from this post!! I really hope you like this:) I also took some of the other requests regarding this story and put them in here:)

Bucky had a feeling you were still alive. You survived once, you would have to survive again. Wanda was good with tricks and visions, so she easily could have shown a hallucination in his brain when he saw your lifeless body on the cold ground in the Hydra base. And Natasha was good at cover-ups. She could easily cover up a death with a simple certificate and funeral since she has covered multiple aliases during her career. She did it for Fury, she could do it for you. 

She did take it as far as holding a funeral for you. With Wanda’s magical craft, she made a near-perfect model of your sleeping body to put in the casket. With your [length, color, texture] hair perfectly done, a small dash of makeup on your cheeks, and lastly a beautiful dress to lay you in. But it wasn’t you. Bucky knew it wasn’t you. Your hair was just slightly less [hair color] than it usually was, your nose was just a millimeter off, and your top lip was slightly smaller than before. 

One might think that it would just be the “dying process,” and everything on a dead body looks deflated or off. However, your older brother has known you for one hundred and seven (107) years and the Y/n in the casket was not the same Y/n he knew all his life. The body he was looking down at looked uncanny. Trying to be human, but failing so miserably. 

Bucky’s room was filled with pictures of you and him from when you were younger, all the way to when you both became Avengers. Your smile was what kept him going every day you were gone. Six (6) months, four (4) days, fourteen (14) hours, and twenty-six (26) minutes. All this time he had been looking for you, trying to find any sign of life outside the compound for you. 

Bucky was suspicious of Wanda and Natasha since they both had their eyes on you. He knew they wanted to court you, but he would not let them. He knew what Natasha had done, what Wanda had the power to do, and what your sweet and innocent brain would accept as love. Even dangerous love was acceptable love for you, you didn’t mind just as long as you were cared for. 

Of course, you were more than cared for with Wanda and Natasha. You were fed, clothed, kept warm, and loved. But in such a wrong way. They turned you into a child reliant on only them. They had no intentions of hurting you when you were in your little or tiny space, only implementing discipline as if for a child. Nothing was permanent, but everything was different when you were in your adult headspace. 

On one rainy morning, you woke up in your bigger headspace. No tears, whining, or whimpering were heard from you. You got out of your teddy bear-themed bed and opened your closet to find something comfy that wasn’t bright pink or covered in bunnies or ladybugs and finished getting dressed in the bathroom. You got ready on your own, but since you knew you were not going anywhere, you did not make yourself look “presentable.” 

Wanda and Natasha were still asleep when you woke up, so you went to the kitchen to make breakfast. Turning on the radio to a quiet classical music station, you began cooking pancakes, bacon, eggs, and some muffins for lunch. The whole process took no more than two (2) hours, and you even got a second outside on the patio before you decided to wake up your keepers. 

Putting two plates filled with food, two cups of orange juice, and a vase of flowers all onto a tray, you walk down the dimly lit hallway to the women's door. Knowing there were only some rules you had to follow when you weren’t in little space, you didn’t knock and just went right in. 

The sight you stumbled upon was oddly…sweet. The two women who kidnapped you six (6) months ago, were asleep in each other's arms. Wanda's head lay on Natasha's bare chest, her arm across her belly. Nat’s left arm was around Wanda’s body, and her right hand resting on her shoulder softly. You sigh, not wanting to wake them up just yet knowing that they need rest. 

But Natasha could feel your presence. She knew you were awake the moment your eyes opened. Gently, she lays her wife to the side and tucks her back in, looking over at you with a smile. “Good morning, малышка (little one). What do you have there?” She says in a soft voice, her long red-faded-to-white hair brushing over her shoulders. 

“Breakfast,” It took a long time for you to become verbal with them after the initial few weeks with them, but you understood what they were willing to do to you to get you to use your words. 

“Come here, love, let’s see what you have,” She says with a smile, sitting up against her pillows and wrapping another blanket around her back and shoulders. You approach the bed, the tray only slightly shaking as you get closer. 

“I hope pancakes are ok…” You whisper, not wanting to disappoint her. 

“Oh little one, this looks delicious. Thank you,” Natasha takes the tray from your hands and sets it in front of her on the bed. Wanda begins to stir at the soft voices around her and she yawns as her eyes open. Her lips pull into a smile as she sees you and you can’t help but return her smile. 

“Sweetheart, did you make us breakfast?” Wanda asks, her voice soft yet raspy from just waking up. You nod at her question, scooting onto the end of the bed. Usually, you would be asleep next to them, but you fell asleep the night before in your little space. Tonight you knew would be different though. 

As they ate, you allowed them to feed you some of their breakfast too. You told them you had eaten already, and you had, they just wanted to make sure you had enough. They really did love you, and care for you, it was Bucky who was in the way at the compound. He was a protective brother, and you loved that about him. 

As the morning went on, Wanda and Natasha helped you with dishes from breakfast, held you as you watched a movie together, and finally in the early afternoon, they had you sit down at the kitchen table to talk to you about something. Your thoughts were frantic as you didn’t know what this conversation was about. Did I do something wrong? Did I not clean the bathroom? Did I say something? Did I not kiss them good morning? (You had) You were calmed by Wanda putting a gentle hand on your thigh from under the table. 

“Y/n, you did nothing wrong. Ok?” God damned mind readers… “Watch your language…” She squeezed your thigh a bit tighter and you sheepishly looked at her. 

“S-sorry,” You whisper, not wanting to cause any more trouble. But you weren’t in any, as a matter of fact, this talk was going to be filled with good news! 

Natasha started the conversation; “You have been here quite a while, and in that time you have voiced how much you miss your brother. I know it, Wanda knows it, Tony knows it, even Bruce knows it. We all know it. So, I think it’s time we let you see him again.”

A flood of emotions filled your system, from the relief of being able to see your brother again, to anger that the two women and many people at the compound kept him from you in the first place. All the way to the sadness of seeing his reaction to what Wanda and Nat turned you into. 

You stared at the wooden table in front of you, tears threatening to spill from your widely opened eyes. “How long have I been here?” Your voice quivers, and your head raises to look at the women before you. 

“That’s not relevant, lov-” You are quick to cut Natasha off. 

“How long have I been here, Natasha?” You repeat your question, your bouncing knee under the table picking up speed. You needed to know how long you have been away from your family, your only family. 

Wanda looks at her wife across the table and nods. “About six (6) months.”

You let out a small sigh, and you lean back in your chair, shoving your hands into the pocket of your white sweatshirt. Slowly, you stand from the table but you don’t walk away just yet. 

“What does Bucky think happened to me?” You ask, the question aching in the back of your mind since you first got here, and why there hadn’t been anyone looking for you. 

Natasha has a blank look on her face, but Wanda has a look flooded with shame and guilt. She knew what she did was wrong, but she loved you all the same. 

“He thinks you are dead.” Natasha answers your question after a couple seconds of silence.  

A breathy laugh exits your mouth, your hand moving towards your forehead in disbelief. “I- I can’t believe-”

“Baby, can you come sit down?” You listen to Wanda's instructions, moving to sit back at the table with your caregivers. 

Tears roll down your cheeks, your voice wavering as you speak, “When do I get to see him?” Wanda smiles as you obey, her hand going to your arm to soothe you. 

“We are packing today and leaving early in the morning to go back to the city. How does that sound?” She asks, trying to push you into your smaller head space so you are easier to control. She knows this tactic can work, and you do as well, but you are too uptight. 

Excited was an understatement, but ecstatic was an overstatement. You didn’t know how you felt. All you knew was that you were going to see your brother again, but you didn’t know what version of yourself he would see first. 

~~~~~~~

After talking with your mommies, they told you they had to work a little bit longer and then they would help you pack. But you didn’t allow them to help. You wanted to pack all of the clothes that kept you in your adult head space—well, you packed what clothes were closest to what an adult would wear with what clothes you had to work with. 

It was mostly pink, frilly dresses, teddy bear-themed shirts and pants, and other toddler-ish clothes. Despite your hatred for these clothes, you absolutely loved one thing, your woodland creature-covered sweatshirt. It was a white-based hoodie with pine trees sprouting from the bottom rim. There were deer, bunnies, birds, foxes, and other creatures within the trees that circled the entire hoodie. 

It was your favorite because you felt free when in it. You felt like you could turn into a rabbit any day now and escape from Wanda and Natasha. But you knew better than to think of escape, especially in the hands of the Scarlet Witch and the Black Widow. 

As you folded some black leggings, Natasha entered your room. “I thought we told you that we would help you, дорогая (sweetheart)?” She says, leaning against your doorway. 

“You did. But I know what you would pack me, and I don’t want Bucky to see what you did to me.” You say defensively, the defiance and spark they loved about you showing. 

“Y/n, don’t talk back to me. We took you in when you needed us, and Bucky was just in the way. I know you have been happy here despite everything. I can understand your anger, but you don’t get to take it out on us, do you understand?”

Her stern voice is enough to push you into submission. You sigh, “Yes, I understand,” You answer plainly and resume packing. “Can I bring Leo?” You ask, knowing deep down that your little self would never go anywhere without your toy lion. 

The question makes Natasha smile and she nods. “Of course you can, sweetheart,” She says, walking further into your room. Your denim duffle back with pink, yellow, green, and blue flowers on the fabric sits fully on your bed and you let out a soft huff of pride as you smile at the bag. Ever since the two women took away your independence, you have felt very proud of yourself whenever you did something on your own. 

“You did a great job, my little love bug, now why don’t we pack your to-do bag? It’s a bit of a long drive, back to Tony’s building.” Natasha reaches for the matching backpack and goes to your bookshelf to grab a few books, a notebook, two coloring books, your teddy bear pencil case, and some crayons. She sets your backpack next to your duffle and gently wraps her arm around you, pulling you into her side. 

“Does this look like enough for you to do in the car?” Nat says.

“Mhm,” You hum your answer.

Nat gives you a soft squeeze, “Words, baby,” 

“Yes, all of that looks very fun,” Natasha kisses your forehead as you answer, then zips up your bags to take them to the car. Once everything is packed, it is nearly seven thirty (7:30), and time for dinner. 

Not once did you fall into your little space today, no matter how hard the two women tried. They knew that you were excited to see Bucky, but they also wanted a smooth car ride to the compound. Little space or not, you were going to be sleeping. The packing of the to-do bag was just a ploy. Of course, this was just a bag of things to do while you were at the compound. 

Dinner was mostly silent. A few hums and thank you’s to fill the quiet. But one question was burning in the back of your brain. 

“Project recapture didn’t follow through, and I am not going to see Bucky in a prison cell, right?” 

Both Wanda and Natasha freeze, looking at one another. The mission failed when Steve backed down. He couldn’t do that to his best friend, not after what he went through when they took him out of the ice early. The fact that they left you and Steve in the ship too everyone that Hydra knew exactly who they were looking for. 

Wanda shakes her head and puts her fork down on her plate. “Love, how did you know about the Project Recapture?” She turns to you and takes a sip of her wine. 

“I didn't lie when I said I wasn’t looking at the files, but I did see one file about it after Tony left. I didn’t say anything because I couldn’t remember exactly what I saw until now.” You explain, practically telling yourself that you indeed did look at Natasha's files. 

“Alrighty then, well to answer your question, no. The project failed thanks to Rogers’s doing. Your brother is safe, and he is not going back under Hydra control,” She pauses and gently takes hold of your hand. “Thank you for telling the truth about the files, sweet pea.” She smiles and gives your hand a small squeeze. 

You return a false smile, taking in the fact that if Steve didn’t care about his best friend, Bucky would have been under Hydra's torture once again. You cringe at the thought of him in pain, wincing when you look back at the memory of him coming back from Wakanda with a new arm. 

Dinner was finished silently, and once you all were done with your food, you cleared the table while Wanda and Natasha packed up. They each packed their clothes and necessities, while also bringing along some of their favorite toys to use on you when you were in your adult space. As per usual, the couple loved torturing you just like the day they brought you to the cabin. 

Finally, the night came to an end. While Natasha read a book in bed, Wanda was in the kitchen making you some tea to ‘help’ you sleep. In your cup of [favorite tea flavor], she stirred in some Rohypnol to get you to sleep. She would give you another one in the morning so it would be a peaceful drive.

“Here love, I made you some tea,” Wanda says as she walks into your bedroom, smiling as she sees you in your teddy bear onesie pajamas. This of course wasn’t your first choice of pajamas, but it was something you would wear. In fact, it was something Bucky would get you for Christmas if you’re being honest. 

You smile at her, still feeling love deep, deep down. You knew it was wrong to love your kidnapper, but you felt so safe in her arms and felt so loved when she kissed you. Same with Natasha. Although she may be a bit rough when it comes to making love to you, the way she held you afterward made up for a rough fucking. 

As you pull back the blankets on your bed, you slip in next to Leo who is lying on your stacked pillows. He falls into your lap as you scoot back, and you look down at the plush toy. Even looking at it pushes you into a smaller headspace, but you fight it, wanting to stay big for Bucky. 

“Little one? Can you drink some of this? It will calm you down. I know you’re nervous for tomorrow, but I promise you, once we get back to the compound everyone will be so happy to see you.” Wanda says, handing you the warm mug. 

You sigh and take a sip of the [favorite tea flavor] flavored tea. The warmth in itself almost puts you to sleep, but as you drink more you start to feel the effects of the drug mixed inside. The feeling was very familiar— your eyes became heavy, your vision blurry, and your breaths were slightly shallow. A whimper was caught in your throat, and you looked at the blurred shadow of Wanda standing above you. 

Gently, she takes the mug from your sluggish hands and puts it on your nightstand. While she is there, she presses the squishy duck night light on and moves to press a kiss to your head. She then carefully maneuvers you to a lying down position and fluffs your pillows to make you comfortable. 

“Sleep tight, sweetheart. We’ll see you in the morning.” She smiles and kisses your lips softly. You whimper at the feeling of helplessness that comes with the drug, and you hate it when they don’t tell you that they are putting you to sleep. For good reason of course; you would beg them not to. 

But this was the best solution to helping you stay asleep, and in the morning the same routine will follow. 

~~~~~~~

Wanda and Natasha had set their alarms before the sun woke them up. They wanted to get you into the car, and on the road as quickly as possible. Once the car was packed, Wanda came back in and helped you change out of your pajamas into the clothes you picked for your car ride; Your woodland creatures hoodie, black joggers, fuzzy socks with bunnies on them, and your pink puffy coat just in case you get cold. 

Still asleep, Wanda lays you between her legs while she does your hair. Parting your hair down the middle, she puts your [color, texture, length] hair into two buns on top of your head. Tying two pink satin ribbons around the buns, she kisses your head and picks you up. Your legs dangle over her arms and your head rolls against her chest as you lay sleeping in her arms. 

With the car being heated up in the driveway, Wanda walks you outside opens the back door of their rusty, red explorer, and sits you down on the chair. She gently lifts your hoodie and puts Leo right against your belly, and she buckles you in. Your head falls against the seat belt, but Wanda is quick to grab a pillow to cradle your neck during the car ride. 

Natasha stands behind Wanda, smiling as she sees how cute you look with your hair all done and your peaceful sleeping face. She sighs and kisses her wife’s neck as she wraps her arms around her waist. 

“We’re doing the right thing letting her see him again. He might be angry, but let him. She’s alive and that is all that matters to him,” Nat whispers in Wanda's ear, her worries almost creating an aura of angry red light around her body. 

Wanda nods and turns around in her wife’s arms. “I love you so much. Thank you for everything,” She whispers, her lips connecting to Natashas in a loving kiss. 

“Let’s get going,” Nat says, squeezing Wanda gently and opening the passenger side door. As Wanda gets in, she shuts the door as Nat goes to lock up, and smiles once she is back in the driver's seat. 

The long journey back to New York City has begun, and the wrath of Bucky is only getting closer. 

~~~~~~~

Bucky’s POV 

When I heard that Wanda and Natasha were coming back to the compound, I was more than angry. I was furious, ballistic, eradic, some might say. They had no place coming back here. However, if they came back with Y/n, all my questions would be answered and I would kill them both when I got the chance. 

The morning of Y/n’s funeral, the company around me was off. There was a feeling surrounding the musty room that just felt… secretive. Like the people within the room knew something I didn’t. That was when I decided to do my research. I looked into every single one of the Avengers. 

Tony was my first suspect; he has multiple houses in different countries, can cover up anything he wants to with money, and has plenty of people to work for him. Two of his maids from his mansion in California answered my questions, and I believed them. They genuinely looked frightened and wanted to help me find my sister. But I kept Tony in the back of my mind. 

Despite how guilty it made me feel, I investigated Steve. My best friend. He lived a modest lifestyle in an apartment in Brooklyn and that was all the housing information I knew of and could find. He kept to himself and was looking out for me. He was concerned at my desperation to find Y/n when he had already accepted her death, but I continued despite his concern. But when I found out about Project Recapture, I didn’t even bat an eye. Hydra would never get me again, and I knew Steve would follow through with his promise of keeping Hydra away from me. 

That mission to the old hydra base went smoothly, but Tony seemed awfully angry at Steve and pulled him aside after the mission de-briefing. 

Now my eyes were on Bruce, Wanda, and Natasha. Ever since Y/n “died,” they have barely been present during missions. Only when we really needed them. Natasha was here more than Wanda, and that scared me. Where was the witch and why was she never on missions with us? 

That was when I went on a deep dive into their finances. Near the death of Y/n, they had purchased a small cabin in the Beacon Mountains. They are married, but they live in the compound due to their job. I also noticed that the week before the purchase, there was a large transaction between their account and Clint Barton's account. A whopping 2.4 million dollars. What on earth did they need that money for? 

The next few transactions answered my questions perfectly; For $4,300 they bought a Stark home security system. Obviously, they got a discount for knowing Tony because those originally went for $7,600. The next few items on the list were items that a child would use. Pacifiers, bottles, sippy cups, and other childish toys and accessories. Natasha can’t have children, and Wanda has admitted she never wanted children. 

The money that was spent at Stark Industries was overwhelming. There were countless security items such as locks, keys, alarms, cameras, and other equipment that the couple really didn’t need if they were just living in a cabin for a while. 

But one thing caught my eye. 

Transaction 62938: “Sleeping drug - For the little one” Paid by Bruce Banner on 02/19/23

Who needed a sleeping drug? “The little one?” That made no sense. 

Unless Y/n never fucking died, and they have her in that cabin. 

Everything was making sense now, but I still needed proof that she was alive. I needed to know that she was breathing, eating, sleeping, living. But the security cameras were locked, and no amount of hacking let me in. I was devastated. 

And when Natasha texted the team group chat, it almost seemed like a celebration that they were coming back to the compound. But it was just another fucking Tuesday. With them, it was always a fucking celebration when they entered. God, I hate them so fucking much. And if they have my little sister, I swear, I'm going to kill them and make it painful. 

As I lean back in my desk chair, I take a breath as I finalize two fake suicide letters for the two people I despise the most. And as if on cue, I hear JARVIS announce the welcoming home of the two bitches themselves. 

“Mr. Barnes, there is someone who would like to see you…” The AI says to me. I hum and I wave him off, knowing damn well I don’t want to see Wanda or Natasha. 

“Mr. Barnes, I think you would like to see her.” He says, and I let out a huff as I stand up from my desk. 

“Yeah, yeah, ok, but if it’s not Y/n, I’m telling Tony to unplug you.” I replied, and all I was met with was silence. I sigh and I open my door, walking down the hallway and going to the living room where the elevator is found. It is our apartment's “front door” and is locked unless someone is buzzed in. 

I look around the room and I freeze. My breath hitches in my throat and my heart drops to my stomach. There she sat, smooshed in between Wanda and Natasha with her hair all done, a childish-looking sweatshirt on, and fuzzy socks to match. 

I stuttered out her name, “Y-y/n?” I slowly walked closer to the three women, and I knew it was her the second she looked up. 

“Das me!” She said, but it wasn’t in a normal voice. She spoke like a toddler. 

I look at the two women beside her, imaginary daggers stabbing them over and over again. I just knew that they had her, but what the fuck did they do to her? As I got closer, the wheels in Y/n’s head were turning, trying to recognize me. And as I knelt down in front of her, it finally clicked in her brain. 

“Bonky?” She whispers, clutching a plush lion in her hands. I nod with a small smile, confused beyond belief as I take in this new version of my sister. 

“Oh god… what did you do to her? You monsters…” I say to Wanda and Natasha, who sit silently, watching the interaction between me and Y/n. 

“Bonky, s’me!” Y/n’s head tilts, trying to justify that she is still my sister. She has to be in there somewhere. I glare as I see Wanda's hand rub her arm up and down soothingly, a part of me wishing I never let my eyes off of her on that god-forsaken mission. 

“Love bug, why don’t you go show uncle Tony your lion while we talk to your brother?” Natasha says, Y/n turning her head to the woman. She nods and stands up from the couch, skipping over to Tony who nods his head at me and guides Y/n to the other room. 

“Before you say another god damned word, I will never forgive you. Never. You don’t get any more fucking chances, do you understand?” I say in a low voice, standing up with balled fists. 

Wanda is the first to nod her head, Natasha putting her hands up in surrender. I roll my eyes at the gestures, letting out a scoff as I turn around. 

“She missed you, you know?” A voice sounds from behind me. “It took days to calm her down, but she missed you. And now you have her.” 

I slowly turn around, the two women now standing as well. “You told me she was dead, had a funeral, convinced Steve to undergo Project Recapture, paid off Stark and Banner, kept her locked in a cabin for the past six (6) months, and you expect me to be happy when you say that she missed me?? Please! You both are crazy mother fuckers, and I will never, EVER forgive you for what you did to my sister!” I shouted. 

The two women sighed, and I made my way to where Y/n was now. She has the brain of a toddler at the moment, so I have to treat her as such. I never thought I had to do this again, but here I go. 

As I knock on the door, I see Tony sitting on the ground coloring with Little Y/n, or Tiny, as everyone calls her. The look I give Tony would put him six (6) feet (or 2 meters for you non-Americans) underground. He gave Y/n a pat on the head and left. 

“Be gentle with her, Barnes. She’s not the same as she was before she left.”

I scoff. “Taken. Before she was taken, and held captive.” I corrected him. He shook his head and left the room, leaving me alone with my sister. 

“Hey, Y/n…” I start softly, kneeling down next to her as she lays on her belly, coloring a picture of some deer in a forest. “What are you doin’? Hm?” I get in the same position as her, and I grab a crayon from her bag. “Mind if I join ya?” 

She hums, nodding her head as I lay next to her, coloring away and not batting an eye. They really did ruin her…

“You’s can colow (color) dis guy!” She says, her words exiting her mouth with a speech impediment. She points to an owl on the left page, up at the top perched in a tree. 

“Alrighty,” I say with a small smile, trying my hardest not to scare her in this state of mind. I had to be mindful, as I knew exactly what it felt like to be in another state of mind in the body I had. I was a killer in the body of a good soldier, a hero some might say. But Y/n? She was a four (4) year old inside of a twenty (20) [or your age] something-year-old body. What Wanda and Natasha did to her to get her there will haunt me, and I don’t think I ever want to know what they did. 

~~~~~~~

Y/N POV

It was nice seeing Bucky, even in your little state you knew exactly who he was. You knew that he would never forgive Wanda and Natasha for what they did to you, but from the time you have spent with them and the times they saved you from Agatha, you learned to forgive them. They told you their circumstances and desires, and you felt so guilty when Bucky tried to keep you away from them. 

Maybe taking you was a lesson for Bucky. Maybe it was their way of saying that I wasn’t a little girl anymore and that I could make decisions for myself. That was obviously never their intention to let you choose for yourself. 

It was just past three o’clock (3:00), and you had just started to wake up from your nap. Wanda was next to you, holding you in her arms, and Bucky was at the end of the bed watching you both like a hawk. He had a mission, and that mission was to protect you all over again. Wanda of course was not a fan of this, but she let him do what he needed to feel like he was in control. 

When you began to wake up, you nuzzled your face deeper into Wanda's neck, humming softly as you got comfortable yet again. You were in your adult head space again, and Wanda could tell the shift happened in the middle of your nap when you let go of Leo. 

“Sweetheart? It’s time for lunch, are you hungry?” Wanda whispers, your eyes opening and your tummy rumbling. She chuckles as she hears your tummy, “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

You sit up, yawning and rubbing your eyes. Once you meet Bucky’s gaze, your face tells him everything. “Please don’t be mad at me. I had no choice. I will tell you everything.” He nodded at you softly and you scooted off the bed. 

As you approach your brother, he stands up and immediately wraps his arms around you. “I missed you, pipsqueak, so much,” He whispers into your [color, length, texture] hair. His body shook as he cried, he never wanted to let you go. Tears filled your eyes as you returned the hug, missing the comfort that your brother gave you in times of stress. 

“I missed you too, Buck,” You whisper into his shirt. Wanda and Natasha left the room, leaving you and Bucky once again. “You know I have to go back with them… don’t you?” You pulled away and looked up at him, your eyes puffy with fresh tears. 

“No, no I am never letting you go again, you are not allowed to be out of my sight, do you understand?” He says, his hands on your shoulders squeezing just a bit tighter. 

“I wish I could, b-but you have to understand something too… I love them, Bucky. A-and they love me too. I will never be the same after what they did to me, but I can at least be with people who know how to take care of me when my brain goes… you know, back.” You pause, looking up at him again. “I forgave them when they told me they loved me outside of the space they forced me into. They don’t love the little me, they love me. And I- I just- just please understand.” 

Salty drops of tears roll down your cheeks, soaking into your white hoodie. Bucky’s heart broke, shattering into a million pieces as he heard your explanation. He pulls away from you and moves to sit on the bed, you follow and sit next to him. 

“I am so sorry, from the beginning I didn’t know they were going to do any of this, and it all happened so fast. They found my journal, and they used it against me. I was in love with them first, but I didn’t want to disappoint you so I kept it to myself. That was in the past,” You let out a sad sigh. “I love them, Bucky. I love them and they love me.” 

Bucky was dumbfounded. He loved you with all of his heart, mind, and soul. But he also understood your pain. He went through a lot in his time kept at Hydra, and he understood the caring aspect of a dire situation. A nurse had kept him company, but the guards killed her before she got a chance to get closer to him. But that nurse worked for Hydra willingly and kept him there. She was not there against her will but with the full intent of working for RedSkull and his army. 

“Ok.” That was all Bucky could say. He didn’t want to alter your choices or thoughts, he only wanted you to be ok. “Do you promise to visit me, and you can leave on your own now? They don’t have to be everywhere with you?” 

You shake your head, “They don’t have to be right next to me, they just need to know where I am. And of course I’ll visit you. I know they didn’t buy a new apartment just to spend money,” It takes a second for him to process what you said. 

“Apartment? Wait, are you coming back to New York for good?” He asks, and a bright smile appears on his face. Once again, he pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly. “I want to burn that god damned cabin…” He whispers, making you sigh. 

He is right to want to burn it. You wanted to burn it the second they locked you in there. The wishes of them letting you go were said to them, begged to them, screamed at them. But still, they kept you in that cabin, deep in the woods, never to be seen until your captors allowed it. 

“You don’t have to forgive them, Buck. But please tolerate them? They are kind and loving when you get to know them. Truly,” A hint of yearning is hidden in your voice, and Bucky can hear the desperation. So, he nods. He agrees to let Wanda and Natasha take care of you and love you.

“Ok… but on one condition.” He says, pulling away to face you. You tilt your head, silently telling him that you are listening. “I get to see you when ever I want to. Or, well at least need to. They don’t get to keep you hidden away anymore. I get to be your brother again, not the enemy.” 

You nod immediately. “Yes, yes that works, they will be happy to have another babysitter around when the little part of me comes out. If I’m being honest…” You say, chuckling softly. “Im not going anywhere, Bucky. I promise you.” 

From that day forward, Wanda and Natasha allowed you to see your brother when you wanted to and allowed him to come over to the cabin to help while you moved. ‘Tiny’ hadn’t come out in a while, as the move was stressing you out, but when all of the boxes from your nursery came to the new apartment, you finally felt comfortable falling into your thoughts once again. 

You showed Bucky your mushroom tent that was set up in the corner of your room, you showed him Leo and your other stuffed animal friends, and he showed his love to you just the same. He said it was like having two little sisters. It was something he would get used to. Some day. 

And as you sat in your mushroom tent, full of pillows, blankets, and stuffed animals, Bucky joined you and read you a bedtime story. Your favorite one that he read to you back in the forties (40s). You were home again, and letting you see your brother was just the thing that made Wanda and Natasha sure of moving back. You were happier when you knew, that he knew, that you were safe and sound. 

Bucky loved you, Natasha loved you, Wanda loved you. And you loved them. 

You always would.