#i plan on sharing snippets of her letters and pictures that go with it

[aurorangen]

V's letters were short and simple, it's as if they don't want to share too much. But Renee is always happy to talk about her life!

Transcript & Bonus:

And it's right next to Renee.

...

Hi V, I finally received your letter and postcard too. Wow Strangerville, the place looks stunning! I'll be honest I don't know much about it. I searched it up but there's not a lot, but I'd love to hear more from you!

I got too excited there, where is my introduction? You can call me Renee, I'm 18 and from Sulani. You must've heard of it right? The place is great and all but I want to get out of here. My dream is to live the city life!

I'm incredibly close with my parents, my brother? Not so much. He does his own thing, I do mine, that's how it is. The thing is though, it's not as bad when we are with family, especially if Dad is there. There's not much, what's the word? Tension. Like this morning during breakfast. I don't know why.

Anyway moving on! So you are home-schooled? That's so cool! What is it like? Trust me, going to school is just full of chaos. Literally everyone goes to this school in Sulani. Classes are always packed, we wait forever for lunch and I still get lost going to lessons!

And my favourite subject is history! I love learning about the past, it's so interesting. You won't believe this, my auntie is my history teacher! That doesn't mean I get extra hints or anything. What subjects do you enjoy?

...

Keon: Only the front seat left [sighs] that's just great.

[torreshalstead]

On a crowded street in 1944 - bonus chapter

Summary - The four walls of Upton’s General Store were all Hailey knew although she longed to see what else life had to offer. When a handsome soldier walks through the door, she thinks he might just be the answer to the life she wants to have. But it was 1944 and the country was at war. Would fate smile on her or would her heart be another casualty of the war?

Chapters - 16/16

Notes - and with this chapter, this story has come to a close. Thank you all so so much for reading along and I hope you enjoy this final snippet ❤️ AO3 Link

He knew he had been cheeky, pushing the boundaries of what was acceptable in society by asking for her to send a photograph. They had only been on one date, had only shared one kiss. It didn’t matter that he knew he loved her, knew he wanted to marry her and to make her his, he still felt like he might have crossed a line.

In his response he had apologised and said he hoped he hadn’t caused offence and that night he had prayed twice over that she would forgive him and respond to his letter just as quickly. It was her letters that were keeping him sane over here. The things he had seen, the things he had to do. Well, dreaming of her blonde hair, her pretty blue eyes and the way her cheek dimpled when she smiled - those are the things that Jay chose to focus on instead.

Those were the things that were going to keep him safe and let him keep his promise. His promise that he would come home to her and she would someday be his wife.

As Jay lay there, or more accurately, sat with his back propped against the densely packed mud, his friends tucked in close on both sides, he realised he hadn’t actually told her that he planned to marry her if, no, when he returned to home soil. He had thought it was a given. He wasn’t the type of man to kiss a girl and then not want to follow it through. He’d never kissed a girl like that before in his life.

Sure, in school, they had played spin the bottle in the school yard, tucked behind one of the old classrooms that was never used. So Hailey hadn’t been his first kiss. That had been a slightly mousey girl called Ally, and their lips had barely touched. But he intended for Hailey to be his last kiss.

He smiled morosely at himself as he realised that no matter which way this war turned out for him - that statement would be true.

When he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the sounds of the bombs or the echoes of the screams of those who would never make it home to their sweethearts, pictures in their pockets or not, it was Hailey’s face that swam through his dreams. It was her lips that sang him to sleep.

—————————————————————————

Post deliveries were both a highlight for the boys in the trenches but could also bring heartache.

There would be those overjoyed that a loved one’s letter had finally arrived, and those whose eyes would fall to the ground when told there was no post for them. There were those who had brothers, dads, uncles or friends in other platoons or other battalions who were waiting for news, and those who would receive a photo from their sweetheart and beam from ear to ear looking like a love sick puppy.

And then there were those who would receive the letter no one ever wanted too. The ‘Dear John’ letter.

One of the boys, Isaac, who usually bunked down a couple of people over from Jay and his buddy Mouse had received one two weeks prior. They had all read it, he’d passed it on as soon as he had read the words. It was curt, blunt, and broke the man's heart in two sentences flat. Isaac had barely spoken since. Jay prayed he would never receive one, that his and Hailey’s love could overcome the distance and pain that war would bring.

Today’s mail package looked a little smaller, fewer letters and fewer smiles on their faces. He wasn’t expecting a response from Hailey just yet, he doubted she had even received his letter yet. That didn’t stop him being hopeful that his name would be called and an envelope shoved into his hand.

It wasn’t his turn to smile however, it was Mouse’s. And as much as he was desperate to read Hailey’s newest thoughts, he was pleased for his friend. If they didn’t share in each other’s joy over here, well, it was one of the quickest ways to spiral.

‘She wrote me back!’ Mouse exclaimed as he tore the envelope open. ‘I only wrote on the off chance.’

‘Told you she would,’ Jay said with a smile as he thumped him on the back. ‘It’s the uniform, the ladies love it.’ It was a forced joke, an old tale with only a hint of truth to it. If any of their ladies could see them now, they wouldn’t nearly be so smitten.

‘She said she’s been thinking of me,’ Mouse muttered as his eyes skimmed quickly down the page. ‘Said the street’s not been the same without me.’

‘I bet it’s a hell of a lot tidier without you loitering on the corner,’ Jay scoffed but Mouse was too enraptured by the words on the page to hear anything Jay was saying.

‘She’s been thinking of me,’ Mouse repeated, his eyes glazing over with a love struck shine as he clutched the letter to his chest.

‘Better get you home in one piece then Mouse,’ Sergeant Platt said as he walked past them. He was a stern leader but he wanted the best for his men and Jay would follow him into battle come what may.

‘Preferably as good looking as when I left Sarge,’ Mouse chirped as the rest of the team laughed. It was easy to forget where they were when they were laughing and joking, they could have been boys in a school yard. But later that day when the fighting would resume, there would be no forgetting it. Jay didn’t think he would ever forget it. This was was becoming a part of him whether he wanted it to or not.

—————————————————————————

‘Halstead!’ Jay turned his head quickly, it was mail call and his name being called could only mean one thing. ‘Letter for you.’

Jay accepted it with a small smile. He was normally over the moon to receive post, it was always from Hailey but this time, after his possible overstepping, he was concerned for what it might contain.

‘Is it from your girl?’ Mouse asked from his usual position, on Jay’s right hand side. They stuck together like glue now. Their unit was smaller now, Isaac hadn’t put his helmet on when they went over the top. Jay believed he might have forgotten on purpose but he kept that thought to himself. He wouldn’t taint Isaac’s memory for his family with a hint of cowardice. Although Jay thought it had more to do with the letter he had received rather than the horrors of the war. A battlefield wasn’t a place for a boy with a broken heart.

‘Yeah,’ Jay breathed out, his fingers brushing over the now familiar loopy writing of Hailey’s pen.

‘What are you waiting for you muppet,’ Mouse nudged him.

‘Nothing,’ Jay said, delicately opening the envelope so he’d be able to slide the letter back into it.

As he unfolded the writing paper, his heart skipped a beat. There, looking back up at him was a smiling picture of his love, his Hailey. Frozen in time in a black and white image, but her eyes were just as bright even from the page.

‘Damn Halstead,’ Mouse puffed, glancing over Jay’s shoulder. Privacy and the trenches were two things that didn’t go together. ‘How’d you get a girl that looks like that to agree to walk out with your ugly mug?’

Jay ignored him, focusing on Hailey’s words instead but his gaze kept dancing back to the photograph.

My dearest Jay,

There was no offence taken at all, I simply had not found a way to get a photograph taken, but with a little help, please find it enclosed. I hope this is what you wanted and it makes you smile.

Of course you have my heart, I hope it keeps you safe over there.

I miss you more than I ever thought a heart could miss someone.

I pray each night that you’ll come home safe, to me.

Yours forever,

Hailey.

He hadn’t offended her, and she had sent him a photograph.

It was the greatest gift he ever could have received.

‘Look everyone, Jay’s girl isn’t imaginary after all!’ Mouse exclaimed loudly and for once Jay was grateful for the layer of grime that coated his face to hide his blush.

There was a chorus of cheers from his friends and neighbouring units - a moment shared.

Jay knew it now, he knew in his next letter he needed to lay it all out. Tell her that he intended to marry her. He couldn’t keep it within him any longer. A girl like Hailey deserved to know how he truly felt.

He lifted her picture to his lips and kissed it softly before tucking it safely into his breast pocket, right atop his heart. It was where she lived anyway. Who’d have thought the girl he met in the general store would go on to mean so much to him. Someday that girl would be his wife. He tucked that thought away with a smile, when he got home, he would ask her in person to marry him. And if her letters were anything to go on, he didn’t need to pray she’d say yes. He already knew it.

[wolfjackle-creates]

In celebration of my new writing sideblog, I decided to share a snippet of the expanded version of my first prompt fill. Original can be found here. Brief synopsis: Tim and Danny became online friends when they were both neglected and lonely ten/eleven-year-olds. Before Robin and before Phantom. They have been fully open with each other since they first met and that doesn't change, even after it probably should. (This segment is a chat fic.)

Prompt from @gremlin-bot

IKnowYourSecrets = Tim's username

-xXPolarisXx- = Danny's username

Typos in chat are intentional.

Edit: I don't know why the color text is being weird. Each time I get everything to work, new random letters are black.

Edit 2: formatting finally fixed. That took way too long.

-----

Danny had been playing mindlessly when he got a message from Secrets.

IKnowYourSecrets: Thank god your on

That was odd. Secrets was always laid back and chill.

-xXPolarisXx-: Secrets? Whats up

IKnowYourSecrets: something big has happened IKnowYourSecrets: like top secret big IKnowYourSecrets: and I need advice IKnowYourSecrets: ive set up a private chat IKnowYourSecrets: one that cant be hacked so easily

-xXPolarisXx-: dude youre freaking me out -xXPolarisXx-: whats going on?

IKnowYourSecrets: :sends link: IKnowYourSecrets: not here. Ill explain

Danny clicked the link and put in his username when prompted. He had never even seen this chat room server before. Not that he spent a lot of time on chat rooms. He preferred in-game chats.

-xXPolarisXx-: ok dude spill -xXPolarisXx-: wth is going on

IKnowYourSecrets: I know who Batman is

“What!” Danny couldn’t hold back the shout. He started typing a reply, deleted, started typing again.

“Danny?” asked Jazz from the kitchen table where she was doing her homework. “Everything ok?”

He waved his hand at her. “Yeah! Everything is fine! My friend and I were just killed by something I didn’t even know could be dangerous.”

“Don’t play too long. You still have homework.”

“I know! I’ll be good.”

-xXPolarisXx-: good one secrets -xXPolarisXx-: you got me for a minute

IKnowYourSecrets: :image attachment: IKnowYourSecrets: :image attachment: IKnowYourSecrets: :news link: IKnowYourSecrets: :news link: IKnowYourSecrets: :image attachment:

The links and pictures started coming through even faster. The first was a picture of a family of acrobats and one of the links was to the story about how the parents died in an accident while performing.

The next link was about Bruce Wayne adopting a child followed by one only a few months later discussing Batman’s new side kick, Robin. Then a picture of the Graysons’ son in his circus costume next to a picture of the first Robin. Which were entirely too similar.

“Holy…” whispered Danny. But the links and images were still coming.

Robin stopped being spotted when Dick Grayson moved out. And not much later Nightwing appeared. And then there was a new Robin and a new adoption. And then Jason Todd-Wayne died and Robin disappeared.

-xXPolarisXx-: what. The fuck -xXPolarisXx-: why are you even looking into this -xXPolarisXx-: Secrets! ????

IKnowYourSecrets: your a real friend, right? IKnowYourSecrets: I mean weve known each other for like 2 years now IKnowYourSecrets: no catfisher’d stick around this long

-xXPolarisXx-: course I’m real -xXPolarisXx-: though thats also what a catfisherd say

IKnowYourSecrets: I live in gotham IKnowYourSecrets: Batmans changed since Robin IKnowYourSecrets: Since Jason died IKnowYourSecrets: he needs a robin I think IKnowYourSecrets: hes mean and harsh and people dont feel safe

-xXPolarisXx-: … -xXPolarisXx-: youre planning something

IKnowYourSecrets: help me figure out how to convince dick to go back to being robin IKnowYourSecrets: I think they had a fight IKnowYourSecrets: from what i can find online their last several meetings have ended in fights

Danny stared at his screen, mouth open. Secrets couldn’t be serious. This was too much. But he knew his friend. He might joke during a gaming battle, but he’d never joke about this. Not to Danny, or well, Polaris.

-xXPolarisXx-: Youre gonna chase down Nightwing?? -xXPolarisXx-: isnt he only out at night??? -xXPolarisXx-: dude youre gonna get yourself killed -xXPolarisXx-: how’ll you even find him? -xXPolarisXx-: do NOT tell him you know his secret identity -xXPolarisXx-: what do vigilantes do to ppl who learn their identities?

Danny watched as the dots appeared to indicate Secrets was typing. They stopped. Picked up again.

IKnowYourSecrets: awww IKnowYourSecrets: you like me ❤ IKnowYourSecrets: im not gonna die! IKnowYourSecrets: NIGHTWING will be there IKnowYourSecrets: and I can find him bc I know his patrol routes IKnowYourSecrets: easy peasy IKnowYourSecrets: im going tonight IKnowYourSecrets: just need to figure out what to say

-xXPolarisXx-: dude really??? -xXPolarisXx-: do you even know why they fought?

IKnowYourSecrets: Gotham needs batman IKnowYourSecrets: and batman needs robin IKnowYourSecrets: hes a hero he should want to help

-xXPolarisXx-: Well start with that, then -xXPolarisXx-: if youre going to be an idiot -xXPolarisXx-: and go out in gotham at night -xXPolarisXx-: tell nightwing youre worried about batman

IKnowYourSecrets: worried about nightwing as well IKnowYourSecrets: hes not as bad IKnowYourSecrets: but its clear something is wrong

-xXPolarisXx-: im just a kid from a small town -xXPolarisXx-: how am I supposed to know how to talk to superheroes?

IKnowYourSecrets: they aren’t superheroes IKnowYourSecrets: no powers

-xXPolarisXx-: not the point -xXPolarisXx-: I guess -xXPolarisXx-: start by asking how hes doing -xXPolarisXx-: and how batmans doing -xXPolarisXx-: and say youre sorry about robins death -xXPolarisXx-: but most importan STAY SAFE -xXPolarisXx-: i dont even know your name to follow any news stories

IKnowYourSecrets: its Tim if you wanna know

-xXPolarisXx-: mines Danny -xXPolarisXx-: idk why but Tim fits you

IKnowYourSecrets: dont use it on public forums IKnowYourSecrets: but were safe here IKnowYourSecrets: Danny. I like it IKnowYourSecrets: thanks for the advice!!! IKnowYourSecrets: im gonna use it IKnowYourSecrets: ttyl IKnowYourSecrets: gonna track down dick and talk to him IKnowYourSecrets: he usually starts patroling in like an hour and a half IKnowYourSecrets: and it’ll take me about that long to get to bludhaven

-xXPolarisXx-: lemme know what happens -xXPolarisXx-: im gonna check this chat and the game any chance I have at the computer

IKnowYourSecrets: will do IKnowYourSecrets: by danny

-xXPolarisXx-: stay safe tim

Danny stared at the chat box as Secrets, as Tim signed out. What. The. Hell.

“You all right there, Danny?” Jazz was looking at him from their kitchen table and Danny quickly closed out of the chatroom. No one could be allowed to see that information.

“Yeah, course. Just talking with my online friend Secrets.” Whose name he now knew. “He had to go, though. So I guess I’ll start my homework.”

“Were you two playing that game you like?”

He couldn’t tell the truth, so he decided to lie. “Yeah. We’re hoping to beat this boss so we can get a rune stone that’ll let us craft this super awesome weapon! Then we might stand a chance in the arena.”

Jazz smiled at him. “I’m sure you two’ll get it. What’s this arena?”

Danny described the game on autopilot as pulled out his backpack and books. Holy hell, he knew Batman’s identity.

-----

Part 2

I also hope to start doing WIP Wednesdays if there's any interest. Probably not every week and they won't all be for this fic, but I've got a few things I've been working on that I hope people will enjoy.

Tag List (I hope you're still all interested so many months later. XP)

@bonebrokebuddy, @britcision, @lady-time-lord-, @welcometosasakiworld, @akikkobara, @phoenixdemonqueen, @dolfay, @skulld3mort-1fan, @nutcase8691, @dreamingasters, @xysidhequeen

I'm sure there's people I'm missing. So let me know if you want to be added or if you want to be taken off the list. I won't be offended either way.

[bonesbuckleup]

okay that atla snippet KILLED me. want to share bits from any of your other atla wips? dealer's choice!

We'll go with something from Care & Keeping, which is an AU 5+1 fic (aka five times Zuko got Sokka to talk about Feelings like a functioning human person and one time Sokka didn't make Zuko talk about his) (aka the care and keeping of your emotionally stunted friend when you’re not used to having friends while learning how to run a country (is Zuko or Sokka the stunted one? (The answer is yes!!!!))) where Sokka stays in the Fire Nation after the war to be an advisor/bodyguard/catch-all trusted person while Zuko establishes his rule after the war.

I actually got pretty far in this one, but I don't anticipate finishing it. Regardless! This little snippet is from the first entry, when the Southern Water Tribe, Aang, and Katara are getting ready to leave. Picture the docks with all the people loading ships with stuff. The night before, Sokka told his dad about his plans to stay, which Hakoda (who was really looking forward to, y'know, being home with both his kids) doesn't take great. And scene:

Sokka opens his mouth like he might say something, but stops. Someone calls for Hakoda. Hakoda hesitates, and then walks away. Sokka sags, shoulders slumping, to lean heavily on his crutch.

Zuko frowns and elbows Aang. “What’s going on with them?” he asks.

“Sokka and his dad got into a fight last night,” Aang says, quietly, so only Zuko can hear. “It was really bad. Hakoda yelled. I didn’t think that Hakoda ever yelled.”

There is a barbed, hard thing that lives in Zuko’s chest, and it sharpens every time one of his friends clashes with a parent. It wakes when Toph’s face goes blank as she’s read a letter from the Beifongs, or when Mai’s mother tells her she could be so pretty if only she smiled, or, like right now, when Aang says that Hakoda yelled. And Zuko knows, he knows, that not all fathers are like his father. He knows that Hakoda is as far from Ozai as a man can reasonably get. 

But Sokka stands on the dock, stiff-backed and uncertain among his own people, and Hakoda very deliberately coils a rope into a loop without turning to look at his son.

Aang smiles thinly and says, “Guess Katara’s temper doesn’t come from her mom,” and the thing in Zuko’s chest bares it’s teeth and snarls.

[thedeviltohisangel]

The Only Good I’ve Ever Done

During the five years he was blipped away, he thought about the snippets of his life that he would miss the most. The moments that he never appreciated enough. The moments that were so fleeting that he never got to expound upon. Plenty of them involved his family. Times on the fishing boat that he didn’t realize would keep him alive in his adult years. Holding his nephews for the first time and learning there was so much more to life and legacy. But so many also involved her.

masterlist is my url/writing

accepting requests for this pairing

There were a few things about Louisiana that Sam knew would never change. They would always have the best seafood. His sister and nephews would always be there. And he would always hold his breath waiting to run into Leila. 

During the five years he was blipped away, he thought about the snippets of his life that he would miss the most. The moments that he never appreciated enough. The moments that were so fleeting that he never got to expound upon. Plenty of them involved his family. Times on the fishing boat that he didn’t realize would keep him alive in his adult years. Holding his nephews for the first time and learning there was so much more to life and legacy. But so many also involved her. Kissing on the cheek during recess. Her cheering on the sidelines during his big game. Senior prom. When she said I love you right before he left to join the Air Force. 

They kept in contact while he was deployed. Spotty phone calls and fuzzy video calls sustained them but Sam cherished the letters she sent him more than anything. It was as if each stroke of her pen captured a bit of her heart that she sent away to be with him. Everyone teased him about how he was whipped for this girl. Asked him why he came out to this hellscape if he had such a beautiful woman at home waiting for him. He never answered because he didn’t think they would get it. He was here because he had a lot to prove. Prove to his parents that he could be responsible and mature. Prove to Leila and her family that he could keep her safe and provide for her. Prove to himself he deserved her.

When he was selected for the Falcon program, their communication slowed and slowed until it stopped altogether. He was pulling long hours and participating in highly classified missions and he didn’t know how to balance it. Leila still sent him letters even though he stopped writing back. He read them and felt numb. After so long, she stopped writing too. Every stroke of her pen broke her heart. She didn’t have anything left to give. She stopped visiting his sister and parents. Stopped looking at the houses for sale in the paper. Stopped looking at the bridal magazines in the waiting area of the doctor’s office. Her mom told her that sometimes people grow apart. Tried to help her rationalize Sam’s sudden disinterest. Her father told her that he had been right all along. That Sam was just some boy, not ready to be a man. That she deserved better. Leila held onto the hope that when he came back, she could look him in the eyes and talk to him and everything would be better. That they just needed to see each other again and it would all be okay. He would be hers again.

But his end date came and went. She heard nothing from him. Didn’t see him around town. When she found the courage to ask Sarah, she broke the news Sam wasn’t moving back to Louisiana. And she felt the nail in the coffin go right through her chest.

Sam thought about her when he watched Riley fall from the sky. Thought about her when he jumped out of the building in DC. Thought about her when he was locked in a cell on the Raft. He thought of her when he was snapped away and when he was snapped back and he had never known just how temporary life was than he did in those five years. 

And now he stood on a dock in Louisiana and there were seagulls and old friends and she was there. She was smiling and laughing and he didn’t even know how to say hello to her. 

She had heard Sam was back in town. She had been actively avoiding anywhere she thought he might be but there he was. A part of her could have guessed this was where they would ultimately cross paths. His family had so much history here. If there was anywhere for him to feel grounded, it would be at this dock.

It was also very clear that he was not going to come up and talk to her. At least not anytime soon. And if she wanted to have a conversation with him, after the years without one, she would have to be the one to initiate it.

“Hi, Sam Wilson.” There was no use in being nervous about it. No use in beating around the bush or pretending that they didn’t have the history that they did. She no longer held any resentment towards him. There had been too many years since then and too many astronomical events for him to hold her hostage. Since the last time she heard from him, she had loved others and lost others and learned how to grieve and how to cope and why her mother always told her the most important thing to be is resilient.

“Hey. I saw you over there and I was gonna-”

“You weren’t. That’s why I did,” she said with a smile. He was different. She could tell in just the handful of words they had exchanged. But he was still Sam. Maybe just a little rougher around the edges.

“If I didn’t know how to be with you Leila, I certainly don’t know how to be around you now.” He figured she deserved honesty after all these years. Besides, he had lost his chance with her long ago. There was no use in trying to save face or act suaver than he was.

“Well, if you’re here long enough we can try to figure it out. Try to find our inner second graders and go back to the simpler times,” she teased. Sam smiled and felt warm at the thought. Sometimes, people were meant to be in your life. You don’t always know how or why but you know you can’t live fully without them. She was one of those people to him. He was one of those people to her. It’d be worth the awkwardness to find some sense of rhythm and belonging again.

“Okay then let’s start simple. I’m here to work on the boat and brought some stuff for dinner if you have the time.” It sounded easy enough. Harmless enough. Two people catching up. There was a lot of that going around since they all had been snapped back. “Unless there’s someone in your life and doing that would be weird cause all the ladies here would certainly spread that around town.” She looked down at her shoes with a sad smile.

“There is but there isn’t. It’s a long story,” she replied.

“I have a lot of long stories too,” he shared. Without thinking, he reached for her hand and she met him halfway. Just the simple act made her feel safe and secure. Made her feel more protected than she had in years. Like she didn’t need to look over her shoulder in fear because he would be behind her. “Come on.” 

She followed him to the old Wilson family boat and stood still for a moment once her feet landed on deck. It had been so long since she had stepped foot on the vessel, years of memories rushing back at her. She found her way down into the galley and smiled as she thought about the times with Sam where they had taken full advantage of the privacy being below deck brought them. As kids they had pretended it was pirate ship. As teenagers it was place to steal kisses and exploring touches. As young adults it had been sharing beers and learning about physical intimacy. “During those five years, Sarah let displaced persons live here. The marina felt like a real community again. Like it did back when we were little.” Leila paused at the corkboard with pictures and let her fingers brush the polaroid of her that was pinned there.

“She hasn’t mentioned that to me,” Sam replied as he emptied the paper bag of food onto the tiny table tucked into the corner. 

“I’m sure you’ve both had more than enough to catch up on.” She slid into the chair he pulled out for her and took a nervous sip of a water bottle. “Thanks for the food,” she said with a smile as she popped a piece of shrimp into her mouth. 

“It’s your favorite place. It’d be sacrilege to eat it without you.” 

“It’s weird. The things you still remember about someone after time apart. The things you didn’t know you remembered until you saw them again.” She avoided his gaze when she looked up and saw how soft his eyes were as they landed on her. He had caused her nothing but pain and heartbreak since she had seen him last. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness. Didn’t deserve a second chance with her heart. Didn’t deserve to look at her like he loved her.

“You said there was someone,” Sam asked, clearing his throat. He couldn’t spend another second with her, falling in love all over again, if there was someone waiting for her at home. 

“I was engaged. Pre-blip. He...dusted while we were on vacation. Everyone else came back…” she paused and wiped a tear from her cheek. “I assume he’s happier wherever he is and doesn’t want to come back to me.” In her eyes, it was exactly what Sam had done. Gotten a taste of life without her and decided it was the one he preferred to live. Sam reached for her hand across the table but she pulled it out of his reach.

“I’m sorry.” For what he did or her fiance did, he wasn’t sure.

“Don’t be. I’m tired of everyone feeling sorry for me. I should be used to being alone by now.” She dropped her head into her hands with a sad chuckle. “I didn’t take you up on your offer to be snarky or rehash the past. I’m sorry.”

Now it was his turn. “Don’t be. What I did all those years ago. Not writing you back. Not calling when I got to DC-”

“I can’t relive it, Sam.” It was still too raw. Too real. Too ever present in the back of her mind that she barely survived it the first time, let alone talking it out with him a second time.

“I was scared. Scared of the fact that we had a real future together and real plans and a real chance of making it in this world. I was scared back then and I can’t be scared now. Not anymore.” If he didn’t say what he needed to, wanted to, he would never be able to live with himself. Not with all the loss he had suffered. “And when I watched my partner fall from the sky I was even more scared of not having those things. Of depriving you of your chance to have them. I knew I was committed to a life of service and that there’d be times when I had to put you second and I didn’t want to make that choice.”

“It wasn’t your choice to make. You took that choice away from me,” she responded with a new fire residing inside of her. She had never got the chance to have this fight with Sam. Her spirit had been waiting long enough.

“You’re right. I made the choice to give us a clean break-”

“Clean? Were you high on gunpowder over there?” She slid off the chair angrily and grabbed her purse from where she had tossed it. Her appetite was gone. Her elation at sharing a meal with Sam Wilson was gone.

“Don’t walk away from this. We owe it to ourselves to have this out. End things for good!” he called after her as he followed her onto the deck of the boat.

“I hate you, Sam! I hated you everyday for years and even when others came along I hated you for making it impossible to move on! I hate you for being you and I hate myself even more for still loving you!” she jabbed her finger in his direction then promptly deflated. 

“I never hated you, Leila. I never stopped being in love with you.” He wanted to kiss her. Crush her against him and never let her go. Promise her that he was ready to settle down and give her the life they had dreamt about together all those years ago. He took a step and she held up a hand to stop him.

“If you take another step, you have to understand what it means.” Sam grabbed her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. Kissed the tip of every finger and held it to his chest.

“It means I will never break another promise to you. Means you’re my forever and you have my heart for the rest of time. It means I will never put you second ever again and will spend the rest of my days earning your trust and forgiveness.” She stepped forward but kept her hand right where it was.

“Kiss me,” she whispered. And he did. It was softer than the reunion kisses of his dreams. His fingers were threaded in her hair, her eyelashes brushing against the top of his cheekbones as she leaned against him to try and get closer, closer, closer. Her hands were softer against his cheeks than he thinks he deserves. They held him with care. A delicate nature that had been removed from his life since the last time he held her like this. Leila’s toes stretched her upwards until Sam read her cue and gripped her thighs so she could jump and be his height. “Keep your hands above my waist.”

“What?” he asked dizzily as he pulled away but nipped at her jaw.

“You still have a lot of trust and forgiveness to earn,” she teased as she unhooked her legs from his waist and landed on her own two feet.

“Damn do you know how to wrap a man around your finger.” He pulled her in for a searing kiss. But he couldn’t help his mind wandering to her fiance. The man who abandoned her in some far corner of the world. Sam wanted to find him and...and maybe his anger at himself now had a different target after all these years. “Do you have a ride home?” he asked tenderly as he swayed with her in his arms.

“Are you offering to fly me back?” she asked jokingly but also seriously. She’d say yes if he offered. 

“No. I wish I could but the men in camo don’t trust me outside the base.” She pouted and it punched him in the gut. “Soon. I’ll make it work, figure something out.” The following moment of peaceful silence and companionship was interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket.

“Real work or superhero work?” she asked as he looked at it with a furrowed brow. 

“Both. Just need a minute and then...then…” It kept ringing and ringing, he couldn’t get a thought out.

“I’ll go clean downstairs. Don’t take too long.” She kissed his cheek, dragging her hand down his arm before twining their fingers briefly, Sam not letting her escape his grasp until she got too far away to hold onto. He knew he kept putting this on his plate. His normal missions as Falcon. The Flag Smashers. The house and the boat. All of them felt like a weight on his soul but Leila...Leila felt like she lifted it. When she was around, he felt like he could breathe again. He was doing his best to juggle everything and he hoped, and prayed, none of them fell from his grasp. Not again. Not this time.

[loseyoutoloveme]

will you do a song by song review for life support? i really liked the ones for sweetener and thank you next!

oh absolutely, i’d love to! thank you for asking and being interested 🖤 all thoughts below.

the beginning:

this was such a great way to open this album, it’s so cinematic and really sets the mood so perfectly. one of my fav instrumental intros i’ve ever heard.

9/10

good in goodbye: “you put the over in lover, put the ex in next.”

the lyrics are so wonderfully corny and i’ll love this song forever, like the chorus is literally just so fun to sing along to.

i do think it feels a little... shallow compared to the rest of the album, and the album being released so long after this song came out makes it feel disconnected from the rest. but i love it so i don’t care.

7.5/10 

default: “i know, i know this must be coming for me, i swear, i swear i will be the end of me, the end of me.”

this song is just sooo...... OUCH!

i’m obsessed with the way the chorus just SOUNDS like an emotional spiral, like her life falling apart, like falling into a deep depression, and then the outro builds like destructive racing thoughts.

also i never noticed the wave crashing and the bubbles at the very beginning until really recently, and i love that little touch. the whole song feels so underwater. cloudy and fuzzy. it does a good job of depicting certain symptoms of various mental illnesses.

8.5/10

follow the white rabbit: “is it haunting, baby, that i’m wanting, baby, that i’m wanting, wanting you?”

i actually was fully not expecting to like this that much based off the snippets she’d shared, but omg this left me WEAAAAK on first listen, which was the best surprise

there are definitely so many layers to these lyrics too, despite it being just a bombastic sexy toxic love song on its surface, particularly when thinking about the album as a commentary on mental illness, and some of the breakup/love songs as metaphors rather than straightforward love songs. definitely about infatuation and toxicity and perhaps knowingly entering a bad relationship as a bad coping mechanism, a way to avoid dealing with your pain or (as we see in effortlessly) a way to just feel anything at all.

9/10

effortlessly: “i hold my breath to breathe, hurt me so i feel, used to do these things so effortlessly somehow.”

oh god this song is just a punch in the stomach

i ALSO didn’t really expect to love this one based on snippets but the lyrics are just devastating and perfect and i hope speak to anybody who has struggled with self-harm and medication.

i don’t even have thoughts on this song, it just makes me go jsn*@(#nkdasdnkasd7*@U#j2k3n

love that this is such a fan favourite. it deserves!

10/10

stay numb and carry on: “truth is it was never love, your fault if you thought it was.”

the reverse “i’ve become emotionless” at the beginning >>>

also love the “i was gin and you were toxic . . . wish we’d just stayed plaTONIC” like a platonic relationship would be the opposite of toxic. it’s such fun wordplay.

also “i don’t feel like anyone” makes me emo, she really just slid the most simple but heartbreaking lines in everywhere and you don’t notice them until they hit you out of nowhere one day and you’re like ...OH

AND THE WAY HER VOICE STARTS TO GO MONOTONE AT “i’ve become emotionless” 

in conclusion, madison beer is a vessel for god

10/10

blue: “you could be as sweet as honey but i knew the darkness in your mind.”

this is my least favourite on the album but it’s still fantastic

the lana influence is clear without being too copycat, like it’s still SO madison. sorta like lana’s video games modernized and adapted into something truer to madison’s vibe.

love love love the whole outro

glad that this wasn’t a single like it was planned to be

7/10

interlude: “would you do that shit for me too?”

VOCODER RIGHTS

this album in general is just not really for people who don’t like vocoders and lots of technical effects. i looove that she leaned into it so hard bc it’s so HER.

this song also has so much depth for an interlude, relaying the experience of feeling SO hard about people, and realizing like you’re putting in way more than you’re getting back.

the post-chorus is like... 🤩🌌💫☄️🌠

7.5/10

homesick: “these humans speak my language, still don’t understand it.”

THIS SONG...... IS MY BABY......

oh god it just breaks my heart on every listen. the image in my head is of a little girl talking to the stars.

and why does the line about her mom and dad make me wanna cry every time? i have no idea.

I BELONG IN SPACE...... FLOATING WITH DEBRIS.......

i’m sure she’s not the first person to ever use this metaphor for mental illness, expressing the alienation of mental illness (especially one as stigmatized and misunderstood as bpd) by talking about LITERAL aliens sdkjfsdfksd, but she does it SOOOOO well and sincerely that it feels like it’s uniquely hers.

the rick & morty sample is so funny and so weird and so madison. i will probably never watch an episode of that show in my life.

10000000000/10 this song is the loml

selfish: “shouldn’t love you but i couldn’t help it, had a feeling that you never felt it.”

my absolute favourite of all of the singles, noooo question about it. it’s a perfect, perfect, perfect song.

two years, alone on new years’, nightclubs, gemini... women writing lyrics with very specific details about the shitty men that the song is about... it’s everything to me.

this song will just NEVER age. every time i listen to it, it’s like the first time all over again.

10/10

sour times: “don’t know what song of mine you heard that made you think i’d want to spend the night with you.”

home with you’s big sister<3 

not the strongest lyrics, but the concept and production are more than strong enough to carry the song.

she came on this bitch mad as hell

also love that this have been another fan favourite, seemingly??

men gross

9/10

boyshit: “don’t know how to talk or communicate, we’re so on and off, to you it’s a game.”

it took me awhile to get into this when it was a single ngl, probably because it came out the same night as evermore sjdknfsfnkjsd, but once i got into it, it became the best song ever

she’s soooo reliable with her “men ain’t shit” songs ugh

8.5/10

baby: “i’m a handful but that’s what hands are for.”

when this came out as a single it was the only thing i listened to for a solid week and a half. just an excellent song. the chorus is evvverrryttthhhiiinnnnggg.

WHAT IS IT SO CATCHY FOR?

9.5/10

stained glass: “my life’s a still fading memory of what i can’t have, and everything ’round me is starting to fade into black, but black and white is so much better, i’m learning how to hide my colours.”

i’m so surprised by how much non-stans seem to love this omg, it’s never been a fav of mine, as much as i still love it

but i’m obsessed with how different and distinctly madison it is

also this is a much more genuine take on the “pls stop being mean to me just bc i’m famous / you don’t know what people are going through” type of song than most of the others i’ve ever heard. her pain is evident, and the soft “i just might break” is just..... </3

the glass breaking and little scream are so good

she loves a good metaphor and so do i!

7.5/10 

emotional bruises: “how do i word this? was about to write you this letter, but it was just curses in cursive, you probably deserve it.”

this was definitely my most anticipated song along with everything happens for a reason, like i listened to the snippet on repeat CONSTANTLY lmao. and the full song definitely lived up.

the scribbling sound is so fun, i love her obsession with little real-life sound effects

10/10

everything happens for a reason: “i still can’t find a reason you’d wanna hurt me so bad.”

THIS SONG IS VERY MUCH EVERYTHING

again, this was for sure one of my most anticipated songs and just kjsadsdkajsm god i love love love it

i think she posted a video one time of the song over a clip of the mermaids from peter pan and it was so pretty and i still picture that video when i hear this song. it’s just soooooo hazy and dreamy and retro and perfect.

also the song on the album where she got to show off her vocals the most. she found her niche with this song, truly.

100/10

channel surfing/the end: “YOU’REBADFORMYHEALTHISHOULDPROLLYKEPTSOMEHELPICANTCONTROLMYSELFIMADDICTEDOTHEHELL”

oh my god i was FLOOOOOORED at the dear society clip. dear society was and is one of my FAVOURITE songs, and i appreciate her reasoning for not including it on the album (just wanting some space for a new song instead of one we’d already had for so long), but it did hurt a lil. i was so happy she found a little way to include it :’) rip to hurts like hell tho since she didn’t get the same treatment sjdnksd.

the channel surfing is also just such a fun concept for an outro.

and her laughing with her producers at the end followed by such a sweet calming tropical instrumental...... oooo it’s so nice, it feels like the calm after the storm.

10/10

overall, this album was just SO worth the wait, it’s so fantastic, it’s the loml, one of my favourite albums ever. i LOVE that it’s helped anyone with BPD feel seen and understood, and as someone who doesn’t have bpd but has a couple of loved ones who do, the emotions she expressed in these lyrics have helped me to understand this disorder more too. just such a special album.

most of the criticism i’ve seen of the album has been that it’s overproduced, and that’s definitely criticism that i understand, bc it IS heavy on the technical side and some people just don’t like very heavy production, buuuut... some people do! i do! madison does! and heavy production does not automatically make an album bad. this type of production isn’t something that i expect her to move away from, because it’s clearly her thing, and maybe that just means her place in the industry will be more with the heavy heavy pop fans and maybe even in more hyperpop circles. i also think it’s SUPPOSED to be overproduced; it’s supposed to be a mess of emotions and sometimes a little chaotic. she executed it very well.

i hope by the time her next album is out, people will stop comparing her to like every single artist out there. some reviewers seem determined to pigeonhole her and compare her to every female artist under the sun, which feels like an absolute disservice to me. she is influenced by many different people and they comes out in her music, as it does any artist’s because everybody has their inspirations, but her sound is VERY much her own. as someone who has liked her for years, i can absolutely feel her essence in each song and nobody else’s.

a 10/10 album and such an amazing, promising debut<3  

[sarcastic-sunshines]

Letters for my Love - Chapter 8

Pairing: T’Challa x Black Reader

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6 I Chapter 7

_____________________________________________________________________________

My Love,

Though it is hard for me to believe, we somehow have a teenage daughter.  Though her new attitude constantly reminds me that my Nobomi is no longer the giggling 4 year old that never wanted to leave my side. Now at fifteen, I can barely get her to have a conversation with me that lasts longer than ten minutes. If not for her royal lessons,  I doubt I would see her. She still looks so much like you, even more as she gets older. She is also as quiet as you were at her age, I still remember seeing you at the end of the hallways, silently laughing as you looked at the craziness that was high school. Even at that age, you had me enamoured. The memory still brings a smile to my face as I get lost in the thought of you.

But back to Nono, I used to be her best friend, she would tell me every and anything without me asking. Now it is like pulling teeth, and being unsuccessful. Akina keeps telling me that it is just her age, and the fact that she is a growing girl. As much as I am glad that she does turn to Akina with her worries, I can’t lie and say I am not jealous, because that used to be me. I am trying to figure out my place in my daughter’s life again, I try not to overstep but the distance sometimes makes me feel like I am losing her. I really am hoping this is a phase and I get my bubbly Nobomi back soon. 

Yours Forever,

T’Challa

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ He is going to ask you tomorrow for sure” 

T’Challa overheard Fatou tell Nobomi as he passed by the living area where the two were supposed to be studying. Instead they were immersed in conversation about their school formal. T’Challa had heard about it from Akina, who seemed to be his new source for everything Nobomi. He didn’t know when it happened, but his baby girl was no longer a baby, and as he watched her try and form her own identity in the world, she had begun to become more withdrawn from him. 

“ You are just saying that” Nobomi replied, she rolled her eyes but T’Challa noticed the smile that stayed on her face from his spot in  the entrance of the room, trying to remain unseen for as long as possible. 

“ I am not, Kutenda told me today at lunch that Chima was asking about you and your locker, he might slip a note since he is too nervous to ask”

“Your boyfriend has quite the theory”

“ Well it's going to happen, then we can take the cutest pictures together” Nobomi’s best friend enthused, carrying enough excitement for the both of them. 

T’Challa felt suddenly protective, he somehow had never considered Nobomi would be at the age where she would be interested in boys. It was quite foolish of him considering that that was the same age he first approached her mother.

“ That’s not even my worry right now, my dress is nowhere close to done,” Nobomi lamented, pulling T’Challa from his thoughts. “ And I need to finish all this studying for royal lessons before my Baba starts lecturing me again”

T’Challa scowled at that, he didn’t think he lectured. He just tried to stop her from falling behind. 

“ He can’t be that bad, your Baba has always seemed very cool to me” Fatou offered, T’Challa stood very still waiting for Nobomi’s response.

“ He isn’t cool, at least not like before, overbearing is his normal mode. He is always in my business, asking questions I don’t want to answer.” 

“ My Baba can be like that too,  it must be part of being an old man” T’Challa’s scowl returned as the girls shared a laugh, he was not old. If anything, he looked younger than he actually was. 

He didn’t have time to think about it further when his four year old son came running into his arms, exposing T’Challa to the girls.

He picked up the little boy, holding him close and kissing his head “ Hello Lani, how was school today?”

“ Boring, we didn’t get to go outside for recess” before he could respond, the energetic little boy was jumping out of his arms and running over to where his sister was working.

“ Bulelani, don’t touch” she murmured, moving her books out of reach of her brother.

“ Hello girls, studying hard I see”

“ We were before we were interrupted” Nobomi peered up at her father with a slight frown. He went over to kiss her forehead and she reluctantly let him.

“ Hello Kumkani, we were actually almost done, I think” Fatou started packing up her own books.

“ That’s good, I think dinner is almost ready, Fatou, will you be joining us” 

“ Oh no, we have relatives visiting so I have to be home on time” She denied politely. T’Challa nodded peering down at Nobomi who was staring at him expectantly.

“ What?”

“Well can you and Lani give us a moment or something” Fatou chuckled as T’Challa placed his son on his shoulders before leaving the girls to finish their conversation before Fatou’s departure. All he could hear as he headed to the kitchen was the return of this Chuma boy that apparently would be calling Nobomi tonight. 

So much seemed to be happening in his daughter’s life and he wasn’t invited to hear about any of it. He kissed Akina as he got to the kitchen, where he caught her putting the finishing touches on dinner. The woman had recently fallen with cooking, and no better audience than her little family. 

“ I tried a new recipe today” she beamed at her husband as he put Lani on the ground. She noticed he wasn’t really listening, His ears were trying to catch whatever was being said in the other room.

“ Someone is being nosey” she smirked as she moved around him to get to the oven

“ I am not being nosey.  I am just trying to actually know what is happening in my child’s life. It was easier when she was as small as Lani.”

“ I remember, back then you couldn’t get her to stop talking once she started” They shared a quiet laugh before Akina continued. “ But like I’ve told you, you have to let her come to you. Whatever it is you are trying to do right now is going to fail. Imagine she catches you listening”

She finally went over and placed a tray in his hand before pointing him to the dining table. He followed orders and helped her set the table, listening to Akina describe what she had made and how she found cooking to be a different type of art for her. 

By the time that Nono had joined them and food was served, T’Challa spent every bite trying to think about a way to have Nobomi speak. Right now Lani was giving them a rundown of his whole school day and seemed to have no plans on stopping until Akina reminded him that he had to eat as well.

“ So, Nono, how is the dress coming along?” He said turning to her hopefully, Nono looked shocked that she was being spoken to.

“It’s going” she reluctantly offered. T’Challa turned to Akina for help.

“ Nono and I have been working tirelessly to make all the needed adjustments. It's some hard material to work with but we will get it” she said more to Nobomi as they shared a smile. The picky eater went back to turning her food on her plate. T’Challa resisted the urge to tell her to eat more, not wanting to lecture her. 

“ Well I am very excited to see the dress, I am hoping for a sneak peak” 

“ Well, I think that is up to Nobomi, and I believe she wants it to be a surprise” she looked at the teenager for confirmation.

“ You can see it the day of the formal, it’s just a reimagination of a dress  you have seen before” she smiled at her Baba before looking at her beads and smiling even more at the notification that flashed.  T’Challa noticed and immediately changed the conversation.

“ So, are you going with anyone to the formal”

“With her boyfriend!” Lani offered with a snicker

“ Shut up! I do not have a boyfriend” she threw her napkin in her brother’s direction.

“ I mean.. If you do that is totally fine -” T’Challa tried before Nobomi cut him off trying to end the embarrassment.

“ I don’t have a boyfriend!” she pushed her plate away and covered her face. 

“ Maybe we should drop the conversation for now, love” Akina tried to catch T’Challa’s eyes.

“ I am just saying, I want you to feel comfortable bringing Chima here if you want.”  Nono’s eyes went wide before squinting at her father. Akina shook her head and braced herself for Nono’s reaction.

“ You were listening to our conversation?! Is privacy a foreign concept in this family?!”

“ Well, not exactly, I was walking by and caught snippets” Nobomi immediately got up from the table.  His eyes went to her barely touched meal. “ Nono, you’ve barely eaten anything. Let’s finish dinner”

“Babe, let her go” Akina finally said as Nono mumbled that she wasn’t hungry and left the room. The room went quiet as they tried to finish what was left of dinner. 

“ Baba I think you made sissy mad” Bulelani commented as though his parents weren’t right there to witness everything. 

“ Thank you for the notice, unyana wam.” T’Challa said with a hint of sarcasm his son was too young to detect. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

T’Challa laid awake, waiting for Akina to come to bed. She had gone to check up on Nobomi before bed. Nono finally decided to have dinner and was sharing some of how she was feeling to Akina. And of course, T’Challa was waiting patiently for the watered down version of that story.

He sat up as he heard Akina come in and watched her as she turned down the bed. “ Well?”

“ Let me get in the bed first, you have been so nosy today”

“ I am not nosy, it’s not easy being out of the loop, I barely know what happens in my own home anymore” he was frustrated. Akina felt a little bad for him, she crawled into the bed and wrapped her arms around her as best as she could.

“ You cannot bombard her with information like that, especially when you got it from snooping”

“ I know that now”

“She will come to you when she feels like she can. Just let her do so on her own time” He nodded reluctantly.

“Did she at least end up having dinner”

“ She did, and she told me that Chuma did call, nothing special was said but she looks forward to seeing him tomorrow at school.” Akina smiled, to see Nono who she met as this little girl, blossom into her own woman was more than excited to see. 

“ When did we reach the point where Nono likes boys, my baby is growing way too fast.”

“ And you can’t do anything about it. Just let her try and figure it out and be there for her when you can.” Akina ended, getting comfy in the bed and turning off the light.

“ I know” he sighed, following suit.

“ And for the love of Bast, no more eavesdropping babe, you aren’t good at it” she said jokingly before kissing him in the dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

T’Challa was beginning to shut down the holographic map he had created for Nono’s history lesson on the battles of Wakanda. He didn’t want to ‘lecture’, as she had told Fatou. He was hoping a more interactive lesson would have him return to his status as a ‘cool’ Baba. Unfortunately for him, Nobomi was beyond late and the whole lesson would have to be postponed. He had gotten back into his own work when Nobomi stumbled in with her head held down.

T’Challa didn’t lift his head before saying, “ You are late. You’ve missed class actually” 

His voice was stern but he didn’t think this was the time to be a laidback father. 

“ I know, I’m sorry.” Nobomi said meekly, her nose sniffling as she spoke. His head shot up as soon as he heard the sadness in his daughter’s voice, he was met with an equally sad face as her lip quivered.

“What happened?” With concern written on his own face, he stood from his desk and immediately went towards his daughter. He placed his hands on each of her arms and tried to peer under at her face. Her eyes were closed as she tried not to cry. She hated crying, just like her mother had. T’Challa finally pulled her into a hug as she finally gave into her emotions and let her sobs come out.

They stood there for a while as he rubbed comforting circles on her back before finally pulling her to sit on the sofa with him. He reached for tissues and allowed her to catch her breath.

“ Nono, what happened? What can I do to help” He spoke calmly taking her hands into his. 

“ You’re going to think its stupid” she hiccupped closing her eyes again.

“If it matters to you, then it matters to me Nobomi wam. So whatever or whoever has you upset, we can work through together”

Nobomi looked up and was met with her father’s comforting smile. The same smile that always welcomed her when she had a scraped knee or a bad dream as a kid, and in that moment, she realized how much she needed it.

“ Talk to me” he tried one more time.

“ Well, you know about Chima and how he was supposedly wanting to ask me to the formal?”

“ Was he, I had no idea?” T’Challa feigned at the details, pretending like he hadn’t been aware.  Nono shook her head at her father before continuing to speak.

“ Baba, come on”

“ Let’s move past that and you tell me the rest. So how did he ask you?”

“ He didn’t ask me, that’s the problem, I left class and Farai had basically our whole year crowded around her locker as she made a big deal of the note in her locker. Chima didn’t even make eye contact with me” she grabbed another tissue as she tried to keep another sob down.

“You really liked him didn’t you”

“ I did, and I didn’t want to get excited when Fatou told me, because no one ever likes me” Hearing that and seeing the emotion on her face broke him. He wanted to protect her from the opinions of the world but knew that was nearly impossible.

“ Eish Nono, don’t say that, you are a beautiful girl” he reached over and smoothed back the few hairs that had escaped her large puff.

“ It's not that, not many boys want to approach the ‘stuck up princess” 

“ You are not stuck up” he refuted. “ And I have no idea why anyone would think that about you.”

“Because I’m the heir, and I don’t speak if I don’t have to. I don’t know, kids are weird”

“ That’s very true, your mother used to be quiet when she was your age.” he said with a smile 

“Really” he nodded before speaking again.

“ Yes, strangely her silence was the loudest thing about her. It only made me want to get to know her more. And I am glad I did, because we had an amazing relationship and marriage. And then of course I had you, my firstborn” Nobomi for the first time matched his smile. “ And I know, whatever person takes the time to actually know you, will be as impressed as I am with the lovely young lady you are becoming.” 

“ Thanks Baba” she went in for a hug and T’Challa welcomed her happily, as he started to think about how tiny she used to be,  how she used to run around his office, filling it with her toys and stories she had made up on the spot. It was crazy to him how much time had passed and how different their conversations were now. 

His little girl wasn’t so little anymore. And though it didn’t happen often, moments like this made him feel good to know that she could still open up to him when it was important. His role as a father was always challenging him, and Nobomi’s teenage years were his biggest yet, he would like to think he was doing well.

Nobomi chose to spend the rest of the afternoon in his office, as they worked side to side. It used to be her colouring and now she was writing full essays he was always excited to read. After a few hours, Nobomi got distracted by her beads and had been texting for quite a while before she scraped her throat to get her father’s attention.

“ So Chima says he is here, and he would like to see me” T’Challa tried to control the look of surprise on his face as he waited for Nobomi to further explain. “ He says he got the lockers confused and never meant to ask Farai out. I don’t know? What do you think I should do?”

She looked at her father expectantly. A part of him wanted to tell her to just go to the dance alone. But then he thought about all the silly mistakes his teenage self had made with her mother and even the few he still made with Akina.

“ I think you should go see what he has to say, but make him sweat a little bit” His comment earned him a giggle as she stood up to leave. “ Don’t be late for dinner”

“ I won’t” she ran out the door, and he had turned back to his work but lifted his head again to see Nobomi had returned.

“I just wanted to tell you that I love you Baba” she gave him that smile that reminded him so much of her mother. 

“ I love you more Nobomi” he said before she exited again leaving him with a grin on his face. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hold still,” Akina mumbled as she  did a few final stitches on Nono’s dress as she stood in it. Her hair and makeup was done and Nono was surprised that everything was pulling together as she wanted it to. Though she shouldn’t have ever doubted that Kiki would pull through for her. And now she was almost ready for Chima to come get her.

“ Kiki this  looks amazing. You are amazing at what you do” Nono praised her step-mother as she admired herself. 

“ It is not hard with an amazing model like yourself. Chima is going to die when he sees you” at the same time Bulelani ran in waiting for his sister’s attention.

“ Baba wants to know if he can come in now. “

“ I think we are just about done? Kiki what do you think?” she turned to look at Akina who stood up from the bottom of the dress. 

“ I think he can come in now” Bulelani ran out the room and came back with his father holding his hand.

He took one look at Nobomi and he felt the tears coming.

“ Baba, you promised you wouldn’t cry!” Nono whined, trying to stop her own tears that her father’s emotions triggered. They were both too big softies that refused to admit it.

“ Nobomi you look beautiful, doesn’t she Lani” he asked his son.

“ She looks like a princess!” he exclaimed, making everyone laugh. 

“ It’s a good thing she is  actually a princess” he paused looking closely at the dress again. “ That was your mother’s dress wasn’t it?”

Nobomi nodded with a smile, doing a spin for her family.

He found himself getting emotional all over again. “ It is, I found it in a box of dresses she specifically wanted me to have. Kiki did an amazing job changing the big puffy sleeves that were there before and all the alterations to have it fit me.”

“ She did, though I expect nothing but wonders from her” he turned his attention to Akina who was smiling at him. He winked back at his wife before saying ‘ I love you’.  They took a few pictures of Nobomi before T’Challa remembered that Chima had been waiting in the living room for Nobomi to join him. 

“ Chima is here, I have already given him the appropriate scare, so I think you all should get going so you can have time for group pictures.”

Nobomi’s smile grew ten times at the just the sound of his name. And her quick movements to go where Chima was waiting made him chuckle. To be young and giddy by the idea of love, it was a unique experience that he was happy Nobomi got to experience. He watched as Chima’s own eyes grew large at the sight of Nono. For a second he seemed to struggle to get the words out, but he eventually did and Nobomi’s reaction proved he had said the right thing. 

Akina and T’Challa held on to each other as they watched Chima place the corsage on her wrist, the both of them acting as though they were the only two in the room. They only clued back in when Lani came to stand in between them. 

“ I think we are going to go now, no Dora’s alright” She said to her parents, her father immediately shook his head.

“ One Dora, she will be in civilian clothes  and you come home by midnight” Nobomi put her hand out for her Baba to shake. 

“ Deal, don’t be too sad without me okay” she said jokingly, taking Chima’s hand and leading him out the door.

“ Alright, be safe” he said watching her leave. He spent the rest of the night casually glancing at the clock waiting to see when Nobomi would be back.  He couldn’t lie, he wanted to hear how her night went. 

He found himself watching tv and snacking alone after Akina and Lani had gone to bed. He was sucked into the unsolved mysteries, he almost didn’t hear Nobomi come in. 

It didn’t take long for her to follow the lights and flop down next to her father, her hand immediately going into the bowl of chips in his lap.

“ Did you wait for me?”

“You could say that, you are a bit late though?” he turned to look at her and saw that she had a big goofy smile on her face.

“ I know, I didn’t mean to. I was back here on time, but then me and Chima, we just started talking” she was speaking to him but he could tell her mind was still in the moment.

“ So you lost track of time, that’s okay. I am just glad that you had fun”

“ I did, I think that's the most the kids at school have seen me be myself I think.”

“ Well being surrounded by people, or someone in particular that allows you to be your true self”

“ Was that what it was like with Mama” She asked as she continued to snack.

“ Yes, except with her it felt like I was discovering a new part of myself I hadn’t known before her. Love is an interesting thing my darling” 

“I hope I get to experience that one day” she yawned before resting her head on T’Challa’s shoulder, falling asleep quite quickly.

“ I hope you do too,” he whispered watching her for a moment just taking in the time he had with his little girl. Time seemed to be passing so quickly so every milestone seemed more precious than the last. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 My Love,

Our little girl had her first school dance. She is growing up so fast and each day I can’t seem to wrap my head around the idea. I wish you could have seen how beautiful she looked. Especially in your dress, even though I had saved all those garments, seeing her in them brought up so many emotions.  Moments like this made me miss you, so you could experience all these milestones with me. Though I know you are watching, I would have loved to see your smile as you saw her in the dress. Akina did such an amazing job with altering the dress to how Nono wanted it. I am really glad she has Akina in moments where she feels she can’t  come to me. I have been really blessed to have her in my life and for the bond she was with Nono. 

I am also glad that I got Nono to open up to me this week. Akina was right, I had to wait for her to come to me and she did. It was unexpectant, probably for her as well, but I think she was able to find comfort in my presence and that’s all I have wanted as a father. It makes me feel like I am doing my job correctly, and being a father is the most important job I could have.  I just hope I am doing you proud and raising our child how you would have. As always, I know you are watching over us, I love you and miss you.

Yours forever,

T’Challa

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Taglist: @chaneajoyyy @aloevverified @shaekingshitup @ashanti-notthesinger @ghostfacekill-monger @fd-writes @abrunettefangirlnerd @raysunshine78 @yoyolovesbucky 

[creative-type]

Commiseration

Robin didn’t talk much about her mother. Strangely enough, neither did Usopp

Rating: Gen Word Count: 3100 AO3

Robin didn’t recognize the silence at first. She had been engrossed in a book, a history of the West Blue that predated the Buster Call that she’d been trying to get her hands on for years. There was nothing between the covers that she hadn’t read before. The history of an entire sea was too broad a topic to go into too much depth on any one subject, but it wrote of Ohara and the library that rested there, and it did so without calling the scholars of the Tree of Knowledge demons or monsters or traitors of their chosen field. Newer editions of the same book had been sterilized by the World Government, passages that lovingly described the verdant branches of the great library scrubbed from the public consciousness as if it never existed.

Of course, a book of history would love the historian’s holy land, and Robin remembered reading this very tome from within those hallowed grounds. The memory was a balm for the ache she still felt when she thought of Ohara, the familiar words a warm summer breeze against her soul.

But then, there was quiet.

It was the sort of quiet that became its own sound, unfamiliar and unwelcome in a crew as boisterous as hers. As was her habit, Robin had her ears spread throughout the Thousand Sunny . There was a time she had been forced to listen for the first sounds of betrayal, but those days were long past. The lesson borne out of paranoia evolved to serve a more benevolent purpose.

Robin marked her place and peered across the deck. Luffy was sitting crosslegged at the ship’s prow, a monkey atop the head of a lion. He was in one of his rare contemplative moods, gazing out at the sea with eyes lit with a childlike wonder. Sometimes Robin he saw that excited him so.

But even now he was not still. Luffy never was, not even in sleep. He hummed a rather out of tune rendition of Bink’s Sake, slapping his sandals together as he kept time. He was not the source of the quiet, and so Robin stood, stretching in a long, catlike motion and wandered to the woman’s quarters.

Robin spread her eyes as she walked. Sanji was cooking, Zoro keeping watch while he lifted weights. Brook was on fishing duty with Chopper by order of Nami, after an ill-considered dare led him to breaking the glass of the aquarium with his voice alone. Franky had, of course, replaced it posthaste, but was in the bowels of the ship drafting a new design that was resistant to sound as well as any damage that might be caused by any future roughhousing.

None of them caused the disquiet that Robin felt in her bones. She dropped her book off in her bedroom, exchanging brief pleasantries with Nami and inquiring how her researched fared as she planned their course ahead.

“I’m still not sure how we’re going to get to Fishman Island,” Nami admitted. She took off her reading glasses and rubbed her eyes with her forefinger and thumb. “I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Robin’s smile seemed to reassure her some, and she let Nami return to her books. Her apprehension, while noteworthy, was not the source of the silence that roused Robin from her reading, which left one final destination.

She found Usopp at the workbench of his designated tinkering room. Surprisingly, it was cleared of tools and the odds and ends he used while inventing. Instead he had the day’s paper spread out flat, staring intently without seeming to actually read .

Robin couldn’t think of a time she had seen him worry over the news. She could count on one hand the time she’d seen him with a paper at all. Like most of the crew, he was content to let his knowledge of the outside world filter through Nami, trusting her to share with the crew anything that was important enough for them to know.

He was tense, singularly focused on the words that lay in front of him. All the boisterous enthusiasm, the bravado -- both warranted and not -- had left him, leaving Usopp looking strangely small. His bluff and bluster usually puffed him two sizes bigger than he actually was, but now all Robin could see was his knobby elbows and the round youthfulness that remained in his face.

Usopp seemed...young. Unsure of himself in a way he rarely let others see, but often felt. Robin was suddenly aware that he had sequestered himself away on purpose, taking the news that distressed him so much to the one space on the ship that was well and truly his.

Robin lingered in the doorway for a moment, uncharacteristically unsure of herself. It was difficult while out at sea to find a place to be alone with one’s thoughts. Not every bout of quietness required direct intervention. Not every secret needed pried loose.

This, too, was a difficult concept that Robin was just starting to wrap her mind around. She had spent her life searching for hidden things. There were no efforts she wouldn’t go to in order to find the truth, no matter how painful or personal. Secrets were powerful, just as capable of destroying a person as a knife or a gun. Robin collected secrets like some did bottle caps, and had learned as a young girl to jealously guard her own lest they be used against her.

The Straw Hat Pirates deserved the same privacy they had afforded her. And besides, Nami was not the only member of the crew who read the paper, and Robin had a strong inkling as to what was bothering their sharpshooter so badly.

Robin was about to slip away unnoticed when something within Usopp shifted. He stared at the black and white print so long he saw red, and making a sound that was half-curse, half-noise of impotent frustration he crumpled the paper into a ball and hurled it across the room. Usopp spun sharply away from the table, as if he was about to storm from the room, bringing himself face to face with Robin.

All the color drained from his face and settled in his ears, which burned with embarrassment. He sputtered half a dozen excuses and apologies before Robin held up a hand to silence him.

“It’s okay. I was just passing by and wondered if you wanted me to fetch you a drink. I believe Sanji was working on a new concoction using some of the jackfruit we found on the last island.”

It was ironic that he couldn’t tell that she was lying. Usopp let out a rush of breath that he’d been holding, shoulders drooping like a flower in the desert sun. “No, I’m fine. Thanks for asking, though.”

His fingers became restless, fidgeting and twitching with the need to be working on something, anything , to distract from the fact that he was very much not fine. Robin waited as he pulled supplies from the cubby holes Franky installed in the walls: his chemistry set, a few sheets of scrap metal, a long-handled wrench. Nothing that could be used effectively in conjunction with each other, a sign that his mind was still preoccupied.

And truly, Robin would have been content to let the matter drop, but she knew at that moment that he did not want to be alone. She had long-since memorized his tells, the little shifts of insecurity and nerves that went beyond his usual theatrics, the quiver of his lips as he tried to speak but couldn’t find the words.

She slid into the seat next to him and waited. If there was one thing she knew about Usopp, it was that he could not be kept speechless for long.

“It’s stupid,” Usopp muttered. He bent so low his long nose nearly touched the table, clasping his hands around the back of his neck, his nails digging into skin and leaving white streaks that filled in red.

“How do you mean?” Robin asked.

“It’s just...I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Everything was fine the way it was, and now...I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

Only this time the tone he used for the word it’s made it sound as if he’d meant I’m. Robin conjured a line of hands to retrieve the crumpled up paper and smoothed it out on the table. The headline was about a recent marine skirmish with Red Hair Shanks, and some intrepid soul had managed to catch a snapshot of the battle itself.

Beside the Emperor was a tall man with dark skin, dreadlocks hanging to his shoulders and a gun in each hand. A tattoo was partially visible below a billowing and rather tacky cloak with the letters Yas clearly legible.

Even without it, the man would have been unmistakable. His grin was identical to his son’s after a particularly good shot: cocksure, almost arrogant. But justifiably so, if the rumors of his sharpshooting prowess were to be believed.

“I wanna see him so bad it hurts,” Usopp said miserably. “So why am I so mad?”

Robin folded the paper into neat fourths and set it aside. She knew enough about Usopp’s past to understand what he was saying, having pieced together the snippets and stories he’d shared during their travels. Some of them may even have been true, but even if they weren’t it was evident that Usopp worshiped his father. Held him as a picture of an ideal pirate, one that chased his dreams on the open sea.

Even if that meant leaving his family behind.

There were other details that were less clear. Usopp spoke less frequently about his mother, but always warmly and with great fondness. The rest of the crew made it seem as if he had been living alone when they found him at Syrup Village, a boy of seventeen by himself in an empty house. Robin could guess what had happened, but she didn’t know for sure. Whatever the case, there was no mistaking the hurt on Usopp’s face now, and the anger he used to defend himself from it. Grief and loss commingling with confusion and helplessness into one wretched expression.

Robin knew, because she had experienced it herself. She could read all the histories she wanted about Ohara that venerated the ground that it sat on, but without the buffeting layers of nostalgia, the truth became much more complicated. Her few happy memories with the archeologists were like a scab protecting a bleeding wound, and once peeled away all that remained was a lifetime of pain and misery.

“There is nothing wrong with being angry,” Robin said. “And there is nothing wrong with admiring him.”

“But those two things don’t fit together,” Usopp protested.

“I know.”

Robin hadn’t meant the words to come out as bitterly as they did, leaving the sour taste of regret in her mouth. Usopp looked at her, eyebrows knitting together in an unspoken question.

It was her turn to go silent. Robin had not spoken about her mother in anything but the broadest terms, preferring not to think of her if she could help it. Twenty years had passed, and the contradiction did not get any easier to untangle, the knot of repressed feeling, confusion, and resentment growing only larger over time.

But Usopp waited for her to speak, and Robin realized suddenly that if there was anyone on this ship who could understand, it was him. The revelation startled something loose, the one final push to break down one of her oldest and strongest walls.

“My mother left Ohara when I was young to study the poneglyphs,” Robin said. She propped her hand under her chin and looked at the opposite wall, studying the grain in the wood to distract from the surprise on Usopp’s face. “My father passed away before I was born, and my only relatives were my mother’s brother and his wife. They had a girl about my age, my only cousin. And they hated me, or at least my aunt did. The rest followed suit.”

Robin blinked to clear her vision, which had gone unexpectedly misty. She had forgotten the truth of her words until she was forced to say them aloud, locking the memories of home into some deep corner of her soul and throwing away the key. Now they rushed back and pressed against the corners of her skull, demanding to be remembered. For the truth to be told, instead of the sweet falsehood that was so much easier to bear.

“She’s the reason I became an archeologist,” Robin admitted. “I thought that if I did she would take me out to sea. I met her, once. The day Ohara burned. She told me she was proud of what I accomplished and sent me out alone. She died with the rest of the scholars trying to save the library.”

A lost cause, Robin knew. Had always known. Ohara had been doomed the moment the World Government pressed the golden den-den mushi. And still her mother stayed.

Perhaps it wouldn’t have made a difference, but Robin had always wondered what her life would have been like if she hadn’t. If anything would have changed if Robin had one person who she could trust and depend on instead of spending twenty years struggling to keep her head above water in a sea of loneliness and isolation.

“Why?” Usopp asked.

“I wish I knew,” Robin said. “She said I would understand someday, but it hasn’t come yet.”

It occurred to Robin then that she was doing a very poor job, sharing her own woes instead comforting Usopp. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her nose before turning back to look at him properly. It was difficult to find a smile for him, but she managed. The caustic aftertaste of her own bitterness twisted it into something less than genuine.

“I’ve worshiped my mother and cursed her name, sometimes in the same breath. I’ve hated her, and loved her, and wanted her, and wished I never knew her all at once. I’ve dreamed of seeing her and wanted nothing more than to hurt her beyond the grave. It’s not logical, and there was a time when it almost consumed me.” Robin paused, more memories of an angry and self-destructive adolesce causing an involuntary shudder down her spine.

Really, it was a wonder she was still alive at all. There had been nothing left after the rage burnt itself out, the pressing need of her own survival giving her little time to nurse the hurt into a wrath that could sustain itself. Bit by bit the weight of life had pressed against her, smothering what little hope she had left and leaving a bleak wasteland that made Robin want to curl up and die.

After all, she’d twice been abandoned by her own mother. Who would want a monster as unlovable as that?

“I just don’t understand why he never came back,” Usopp said after the silence went on a beat too long to be considered comfortable. “Or write, or something. Was he trying to protect us?”

He looked down at his hands, calluses and fine white scars crisscrossing into a map that laid out the path of his adventures. He clenched them into fists, the strain pulling the tendons taunt against his knuckles.

“Did he forget about us? Does he know what happened to Mom? Does he even care ?”

Usopp kicked at the leg of the table, then yelped when he succeeded in stubbing his toe. His eyes shone with unshed tears, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand. Robin knew the physical pain wasn’t their source.

“I don’t know,” Robin said. The blunt truth startled another yelp out of him, and Usopp looked up at her with his jaw slack and an unguarded look of terror in his eyes. Robin felt her expression soften, and she reached out to lay her hand over his.

It had been a long time since her touch could offer comfort instead of destruction. The simple act of holding his hand brought back more memories, one that was neither the tearing pain of her miserable childhood nor the false nostalgia that she’d hidden behind for so long. It was a healing sort of hurt, powerful in its simplicity, and Robin gave a soft, reassuring squeeze.

I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.

“What I do know is that your father is still alive,” Robin said gently, “and when the right time comes I believe that you will have the courage to face him.” She paused, one last silence in a day that had been full of them.

“And...you don’t have to follow his path. No matter how similar you are, no matter how much of him rests in your heart, you are not your father.”

Robin thought back to that last meeting with her mother. She had been honest when she said she didn’t understand why she had stayed behind. Her mother had chosen her dream over the people she loved. Despite Robin’s best efforts to convince herself otherwise, as time passed and she became, if not unbiased, then more openminded, it became clear that her mother had loved her very, very much.

He mother said that Robin would someday understand, and when faced with the same impossible choice Robin thought she finally would. Had her mother been at Water 7 Robin had no doubt that she would have chosen her own survival over the life of the Straw Hat Pirates. After all, that’s what she had done at Ohara.

But Robin couldn’t. Twenty years later, and she was still no closer to understanding. She made her peace with that. She had to, or the contradiction would have torn her in two.

Usopp broke through her ruminations with a hug that threatened to crush her. Robin sprouted arms to keep her chair from tipping, then returned the embrace, digging her fingers into the rough fabric of his coveralls as if he’d disappear if she didn’t hold on with all her strength.

“Thanks, Robin,” he said, his voice muffled and wet.

Robin smiled, not caring when a tear slipped down her cheek. She had no answer, safe to tighten her hold, the silence holding more understanding than words ever could

[talldarkandroguesome]

24th of Sun’s Dawn, Middas

What a day!

After yesterday’s long droning presentation before the House Council, I was relieved for the levity of a letter from Tel.

Tel spoke of their current routine in Vivec City and how they will be transferring to Molag Amur in a few months time and how they are enjoying things close to their beloved Vehk while they can remain there. I have heard about their friends, the latest gossip, how often Tel takes their exercise each day, and even a few details about those delightful orgies the Armigers get up to. There were illustrations of friends and snippets of poetry. A few humorous stories of what had passed since the previous letter.

Of course, being Tel, they wished to know all the details of what had happened with me, saying I left out far too much with my cryptic messages, but that I must give them details, no matter how complicated it all was. They seemed particularly interested in how I managed to get Nabine and the girls into the city and to broach the subject of having a half Bosmer daughter brought before my House.

It left me throwing aside business dealings and account ledgers to pen a response.

I made sure to leave out any mention about my soul. The closest I came was saying that, I had decided that I must make good on an old promise to Nabine, so I had headed to Grahtwood via the Mages Guild. During that time, I ended up joining and doing some very rudimentary initiation where they wanted me to go and pick some alchemical ingredients, but being that I did not wish to be arrested in Valenwood for taking part of the Green, I simply handed over a couple from what I already had in my alchemy satchel. And I had even attended a couple of courses, just to see what all the fuss was about. Needless to say, I was bullied out of destruction and into alteration and as a result I can now successfully cast children’s spells and maybe go back to Shad Astula and see if they will take me back up on that old offer from when I was nine.

I mentioned only that Nabine and I had made a promise to return to Mournhold and go before my House and prove our love and make a showing before them. I did not mention about our promise to slay Urtisa, it seemed in poor taste considering their status in law enforcement, even if they could not necessarily hold me accountable for crimes outside of Vivec. Focusing on the positive around Tel is always advisable.

Instead, I spoke about my aunt and cousins and their children and that horrible evening where those poor children were submitted to the twin’s badgering them into the most inane and untalented displays. B’cahn, may they grow up to see the world for what it is and not for the poor woven tales of their mother, aunt, and grandmother.

There was at least half a page of explanation concerning Kuna’s belief that she is a princess and the adorable or troubling ways that has been manifesting. And how she is encouraging Cariel to follow in her footsteps. For children who never have been around servants, they are quickly learning to abuse them. Nabine and I have, obviously, taken to correcting the behavior and have asked the servants not to give into their orders, even when it is cute. We suspect that the girls have been allowed to get away with more than they should in our absence.

I explained how Mother has taken things in much the way I expected. Though she and Nabine seem to get along, if uneasily. We are making sure that Nabine and the girls are seen enough that my House will not be able to deny their existence. A Bosmer with darker, cooler tones to her skin and red eyes points to her being my offspring. I think as of yet the Councilmer are too afraid to confirm if Cariel is my child as well. She is still young enough that it is hard to tell how much she truly resembles me, though she clearly looks like Nabine. And, after all, some children look so alike one parent while not the other.

I shared the humorous stories about the completely incompetent attempts on my life. Though I may have continued the narrative that I was drunk and had slipped, bending down when the would-be assassin leapt over me and off the balcony, falling head first to their death.

It was hard not to find humor in how inept these poor sods were. As I explained to Tel, it was clear that these were not the highly adept assassins of my House, nor the incredible attempts of the Morag Tong. Not just because they were so very clumsy and obvious, but that they did not follow the decorum of professional attempts. If it was House warfare, then the attempt would have either been made in a very public place or in the privacy of my home. Not in a private gathering with a limited number of people, all of whom could be easily traced back to the person hired.

The entire thing was utterly laughable. I am sure Tel got a good chuckle at the stories.

To be honest, I am a bit disappointed in how cheap the assassins sent after me have been. Not that I want to be in too much danger, but because it means that they think so lowly of me that they can get away with paying common criminals off the street.

I suppose I should be grateful that my rouse of incompetence is so great, however. It means I do not have to be on quite so high a guard.

Part of me wonders if any of this is Urtisa’s doing. She would certainly have limited contacts and has made attempts on me many times before. It would be as good a time as ever. But perhaps that is something I could use. If I could send out a message to one of her contacts and Nabine could see who was being sent to kill me, we could make a trail to lead right back to her and catch her in the act of trying to kill me once more.

No, not catch her, but have the trail lead back to her, and have it be discovered that she has escaped.

Yes.

Escaped because she heard the attempt failed and thought to flee before she could be held responsible.

Oh, this is a most delightful idea! I must bring it to Nabine and see what my glorious Morash Gahmerdehn thinks of it. It is the type of plan that I can readily see her enamored with.

Right, back to this letter.

I know Tel was interested in details, so I made sure that I put in very detailed accounts for my name day treat from Nabine. I painted a very vivid picture for each activity and illuminated the page to give a bit of extra flare to the story. For one who participates so often in orgies, it would hardly be proper to leave out any part. Especially since it seems that Tel is interested in some more salacious topics.

Since Tel also added so many other things to their letters, I thought it only proper to include some more artistic offerings of my own.

Going through my old bard books, I found a very old draft of a song I had written about Vivec, back when it looked as though I was going to be transferred from Mournhold to Vivec to write music at the Temple there.

So I gave a quick once over with my lute to make sure the melody was not atrocious and when I was satisfied with a couple of adjustments to the music, I put it to paper. This I illuminated as well, though with imagery and designs of a more religious nature. I figured that Tel would truly appreciate such a work. In fact, should I have any leisure time, I may write another. Or adapt a song of my Prince to one that Tel might delight in. I feel as though I have a few ideas of ways to incorporate what I learned from the music of Elsweyr into something that would be even more delightful.

I gave my goodbyes and my appreciation for Tel’s dedication to writing. Then I sent off the letter, along with a new Bosmeri paintbrush, made of mammoth ivory and hair. According to Nabine, the carving of the handle imbue the user with a greater ability to realize what is in their mind when it is set to canvas. She also tells me that the mammoth hair is far courser than that of horses or other commonly used animals, so that it stands up better to illustration work, rather than calligraphy. 

It must be admitted, I was surprised to learn Nabine had such an understanding of painting. She said that when she had left the Namira cult, she spend some time with a painter in Cyrodiil. Apparently the woman was not famous, but had done the most realistic work Nabine had ever seen. When she painted she had simply gone by the name, The Focus. Very interesting name indeed, particularly as a moniker for an Orsimer artist. I told Nabine we would have to try and track her down and learn what would could of her, then, if possible, to purchase or commission some works.

Tel’s letter was sent to the Temple, so it should arrive in a day, along with the daily missives sent from one Tribunal Temple to the next. And I must admit, I am looking forward to receiving a reply.

[ferociousqueak]

F, H, and P for the fanfic ask game? :D

FanFic Ask Game

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

I actually think dialogue is one of my strong points in writing, so at the risk of sounding like I think too much of myself, I have quite a few scenes I like quite a bit. This scene is from Hawks and Doves, and I hurt myself writing it:

Hannah set her jaw and locked her gaze with the major. “If my choice is between never seeing my daughter again and seeing her be ashamed of me for the rest of my life, I know damn well which one is worse, Odessus.”

She looked as if Hannah had struck her, but she nodded. She started to respond twice but stopped each time. She took a deep breath and tried again for a third time, “The reality of the situation is that this conflict won’t end well for humanity. It can’t. Not unless there’s an entire galactic community supporting the Alliance that we’re not aware of?” Another poor attempt at levity. She continued despite Hannah’s icy glare. “The turian military is the strongest, best equipped, and most disciplined in the galaxy. Your cooperation with the Hierarchy would ultimately mitigate humanity’s losses, Lieutenant Commander. As distasteful as it sounds, you’re in the unique position of being able to help both yourself and your people.”

Hannah wanted to slam down her fist to punctuate her fury. Her restraints burned at her wrists, and it only stoked her anger further. Despite the slight waver in her voice, she remained calm as she spoke, “I suppose that’s what you would do? If our roles were reversed? You’d sell out your people? Ensure a quick defeat to minimize losses? Who cares what happens after it’s finished, as long as it’s done and over with quickly?”

The major took a step back. Her mandibles wavered and her shoulders fell. After a moment, she sat heavily into the chair beside Hannah’s bed. She’d stopped twisting her hands, but she didn’t seem to be any more at ease. If a turian could look sick, she was currently the picture of it to Hannah. “No,” she said at last. “No, I don’t supposed I would. I just . . . I don’t want . . .”

She never said what it was she just or what she didn’t want, and the ensuing silence stretched between them, thick and disquieting.

Hannah’s gut twisted, but the grip was no longer one of anger. “Listen,” Hannah said at last, “we kept each other alive on Shanxi. It’s reasonable for people who rely on each other like that to feel a certain amount of fondness for one another. But we’re not down there anymore. We both have our duties, which will always be at odds as long as the Alliance and the Hierarchy are in conflict. I think it would be easier for both of us if we didn’t . . . I mean, we’re not really . . .”

She stopped, not knowing how to continue.

The major, however, seemed to have a knack for bluntness and nodded. “We’re not friends.”

Hannah bit the inside of her lip and shook her head once. “We’re not friends.”

“You’re right, Lieutenant Commander. You wouldn’t make such a bad turian, you know.” Odessus stood and pulled a datapad from her tunic, handing it to Hannah. “Take this. You’ll need to brush up on how the galaxy works. This should be a good introduction. I ran the translation program on it, so you should be able to read it without any trouble.”

Hannah looked at the bright blue lettering scrawled across the interface: An Introduction to the Galactic Community: A Primer for New Client Races of the Turian Hierarchy. She would’ve found the blatant bias of the title amusing if a sudden onset of nausea weren’t making her head spin. She’d have to talk to Sana about that. Maybe the lavalla hadn’t settled as well as she’d thought.

She looked up to thank Odessus, but the major was already walking toward the door.

“Don’t underestimate Vyrnnus,” she said without turning around.

The door closed behind her before Hannah could say anything.

Up until this point, both Hannah and Dess (here referred to as Stripes—long story) have been sort of ignoring a lot what’s going on outside of the med bay where Hannah’s being held while she recovers from her injuries before she’s transferred to the brig. They’ve been friendly toward and genuinely like each other, but it’s kind of hard to be friends with an enemy combatant. And this is when they remember that reality. “We’re not friends” hurt me deeply ☹

H: How would you describe your style?

Already answered!

P: Are you what George R. R. Martin would call an “architect” or a “gardener”? (How much do you plan in advance, versus letting the story unfold as you go?)

I am the type of architect who will never build anything if I don’t dig into the landscaping. I could never just jump onto the page without having a target to aim for, but I can get and have gotten too stuck on planning and outlining and end up not writing anything at all. So what I do now is figure out a loose outline with some detail of scenes I’d like to work toward/earn emotionally. I never go more than two levels deep in that first outline, and when I start to feel the urge to, that’s my cue to start writing. As I write, I put a brief one- to two-sentence description at the top of every chapter to direct the action and emotional goal. When I get stuck, I go back to the original outline, review where I’ve been and where I intend to go, and I make adjustments either to the plot trajectory or to details that no longer make sense. I like to think that the prep work is the skeleton, but what the story actually looks like reveals itself over time as the flesh attaches itself.

Thank you for the ask!

[rex101111]

2, 3, 7, 11, 15, and 19 for meta fanfiction asks!

2.  Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

Once I have more time on my hands, I really wanna get back to writing the second chapter of “She is the moonlight”, like there’s so many fun scenes in my head I wanna write down (as you should know becc;D) and I really wanna get back to it.

Also I had a few Eri ideas and it has been ages since I wrote for my daughter, which is a travesty, and I need to get back on that XD

3.  What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

gaaaah which one??? Like, there’s one where Bakugou grows a moral center and gets on his hands and knees for deku to forgive him for telling him to kill himself (but that would take an entire fic’s worth of set up to properly build up and fuuu-).

Or I would really like to write this like short inbetween scene with Inko. Just after they get the news from UA that the students will move to the dorms but the night before All Might comes to visit to convince Inko it’s a good idea, but I wanna write a bunch about Inko’s life before that, maybe expand on her own personal experience with heroes? Maybe give her some prior reason to doubt Izuku would be safe with UA? Nana cameo to explain her earlier hairstyle like maybe Inko was a hero fan but grew out of it and saw a bunch of heroes get hurt and-...fuck it:

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

It isn’t. It isn’t even slightly okay, but Izuku has that smile on his face. That fragile one, the kind she’s broken before. She remembers that night, as clear as if it were yesterday; her little boy crying and shaking in front of a computer screen after being told all his dreams were worthless.

There’s a pit in the bottom of her stomach, and as it grows the urge to tell him no grows with it. She felt Kamino from her kitchen, her TV screen a peak into the apocalypse. 

Not even a week before he son was on a hospital bed with his arms broken in two dozen places, and then his teachers, and even some of his friends, were neck deep in something even worse.

She should say no.

She has every right to tell him no.

But he has that smile on his face.

“Of course dear.” Her mouth is full of lead, her smile feels heavy and fetid on her face. “Go see what you need to pack.”

He hugs her, kisses her cheek, rushes off to his room while calling her the best, and she can barely register any of it. She finds her way, somehow, to her couch, and puts her face in her hands.

Heroes die Inko, her mother’s voice echoes out, cold but afraid, they help and they save and they win, but at the end they die.

She was young before All Might showed up, very young, be she had memories of before; of early heroes crashing against overwhelming odds, of mass funerals and of hero agencies closing down not from lack of funding but lack of personal.

She thinks back to the summer camp (do you really need to come back?), to the shopping mall (he’s smiling put keeps putting a hand to his neck), to the sports festival (his fingers are a shade of purple so vivid she can see it even when they zoom out), to that last week before middle school graduation (Where did all that confidence come from, she thought she broke it all...). She remembers her little boy, covered in bruises and wiping away his tears (Mitsuki asking what her “brat” did this time, Inko doesn’t know what to say).

She thinks of him smiling and crying as he showed her his acceptance letter, of him pouring over his homework every morning, of unwrapping bandages from his broken fingers as he promises her (again) that he’ll be more careful.

She sees, as clear as day, her son, her baby, her Izuku, motionless and bleeding as the world burned around him and some monster without a face and without a heart laughs at him.

(All Might barely made it out alive. Kamino is a warzone. Her son, with broken arms and a broken smile and broken-and broken-and broken-)

She gets up from the couch in a rush, races for the faucet in her kitchen, and vomits so powerfully she starts coughing and tearing up.

She breathes heavily for a few moments, silently wiping her mouth as she waits for Izuku to rush down the stairs to check on her. He doesn’t, mercifully he didn’t hear her. She rinses the taste from her mouth, cleans her face, sobs, cleans her face again, and then goes to her computer with a stomp in her step and her lips in a thin line.

With a heavy heart but a steady, determined hand she types in “Hero School admittance and transfer” into the search engine and spends the next two hours reading about Shiketsu, and Ketsubutsu, and Isamu, and a hundred other names she only heard about in vague news snippets.

She’ll break his heart, that smile, like ten years didn’t pass and nothing changed, but she forges onward. He’ll feel betrayed, he’ll feel lied to, but she is done with UA, she is done with her son coming home with broken bones.

She is done and she afraid and she will not let her son be chewed up and spat out like he means nothing, like he’s just another sacrifice for the system that promises All Might but only fills out graves.

She won’t take his dream, he needs to know she still believes in him, but Inko Midoriya is done trusting her child’s safety to someone else who doesn’t know him, doesn’t know his wounds and scars like she does, doesn’t know his hopes and his heart and all the tiny little things that makes Izuku who he is like she does.

She doesn’t know who will come in a few days to convince her, but they will be wasting their time. She feels guilty for that, but only for a moment. She made a list, it has a dozen or so names on it. Options, choices, for Izuku to decide and not her.

She raises from her computer chair with a groan and a pain in her lower back and the bottom of her chest. She climbs the stairs to her bedroom, stopping briefly to look at Izuku’s door. The same childish All Might sticker proudly staring back at her. There’s no noise behind the door, he’s asleep, and after everything the last few days had thrown at him, she doesn’t have the heart to take even a minute of sleep away from him.

She lays down on top of the covers without changing out of her day clothes, exhaustion in her bones. She looks at her bedside table, sees the one picture she still has of her husband. A hand on her shoulder and a baby with grass green hair in her hands.

He’s smiling widely at the camera, reaching for it with his hands.

She buries her face in her pillow and waits for sleep to take her.

(FUCK DONE HERE HAVE IT BLAH)

7.  What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?

Personally I think my style is descriptive. Like most of the time I describe what’s going on in like a “third person narrator” sort of way and dialog is actually relatively short and to the point. Like, there’s a lead up to what a person says, their expression and body language plus an action, the line, and then a follow through on that and then repeating with the next person and so on.

Also I can go on tangents if a story is character-centric, like focuses on a single character then I go ham on introspection...as demonstrated by the above ^^;

11. What do you envy in other writers?

The ability to write down and rely on an outline. Like, I just cannot for the life of me really stick to a plan for too long, like I have the general idea and just add to it as I go. Writing by the seat of my pants is the only way I know how and it either gets me something I like the look of or it doesn’t get me anything at all.

15. Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?

Titles are the last thing I think of, so I guess that XD I usually try not to stress out about summaries too much, usually I just either pick an interesting line from the fic, say something vaguely deep, or depend on a template. Like with my Eri shorts I always use that Two Lines for the summary, “character does something, the result of that action in as vague wording as possible”

Tags are also kinda confusing, like, do I tag everything about it XDD that’d take me longer than it took to write the damn thing!

19.  s there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favourite verb, something you describe ‘too often’, trope you can’t get enough of?)

Adding shit (like this) is so much fun, though I try not to over indulge XD Also a smile either “crawls” or “forms” on someone’s face, that’s the only way. Also long sentences. Also lots of “,”

Lots of short sentences describing something vaguely.

(Long paragraphs in parenthesis describing something that happened in the past or a character having deep thoughts because that shit can’t just be a fluid part of the text nooo it needs to be it’s own separate things it needs to break up the flow for a second that’s the whole point-)

and that’s what I can think of XD Call me out on other stuff I’m sure I’m blind to plenty of my bullshit XD

Thanks a lot Becc! 

[pilferingapples]

“Victor Hugo sewed one of his friends into a sack and made him share a bed with Hugo’s mistress” can you pLEASE elaborate on that i dont doubt its true at all but WHAT

Nonny who do you think I am, of course  I can Elaborate 

In 1836 Hugo went on a “research trip” with Juliette, bringing along an artist-- Celestin Nanteuil, an illustrator for a lot of Romantic works and one of Hugo’s loyal Hernanistes -- as cover for the whole “working research trip” line, because  Hugo and everyone else was still pretending, at least publicly, that he was a Devoted Respectable Married Man.  So Juliette was officially not along as Hugo’s mistress.

( I pause here to note that Mme. Hugo absolutely knew Hugo was taking a trip with his mistress, as did pretty much anyone who knew him personally. Still there was all this charade. The social rules around affairs were complicated.)

Instead she traveled as...Celestin’s sister! A Brilliant Plan!

 (btw this is the best we’ve got for a portrait of Celestin Nanteuil)

and this is Juliette Drouet

so resemblance-wise they’re both...people, for sure?  It’s hard to say off illustrations.  But anyway, they were close in age and it could be reasonably hoped that at least strangers outside of Paris would assume Juliette and Celestin were the couple, and just lying about being related. 

Especially since Celestin and Juliette were the ones checking into rooms together at hotels. 

But!! even though Hugo  brought Celestin along as his Work Excuse , and Hugo insisted on the whole room arrangement thing, he was still Super Jealous, and didn’t want his mistress cheating on him 

so Celestin Nanteuil would get stitched into a little sheet-burrito deal when he was sharing a room with Juliet, like a sleeping bag but with stitches instead of a zipper 

and then Juliette would sneak out of her room (sneaking out to avoid the attention of strangers, not of Celestin, who of course very well knew what was going on) to meet up with Hugo, and Celestin would just doze off for the night (and indeed what else was he gonna do) until he got cut free in the morning and they all headed out to travel again 

Biographies and accounts of the situation give very different versions of this trip depending on if they were published before or after Hugo’s general Hugo-ing about became known; there are books that completely erase Juliette from the picture, and buy the  “it’s a business trip” line wholeheartedly, and books that erase Nanteuil and focus on the Wild Love Affair, even though it’s really so much wilder knowing he was there 

So it’s really hard to find a good single source for all this , and just about impossible in English--but here, have a picture Hugo and/or Nanteuil drew on the trip! Hot hot architecture time XD

(and as for how Nanteuil felt about all this, well--he was one of the Romantic Army, an organizer from the Hernani  days, and on-and-off housemates with Petrus Borel for most of his 20s and 30s.  This was probably not even the weirdest set of shenanigans he got up to that spring.  And he always remembered the trip very fondly, recalling it warmly in letters and personal notes, and speaking of both Hugo and Juliette as “dear friends”.  So...no harm done on that front, anyway! Here is a snippet from a letter he wrote when he’d left Hugo and Juliette--note the use of the “Juju” nickname!)

[thecloserkin]

book review: Marian Veevers, Jane & Dorothy (2018)

Genre: Biography

Is it the main pairing: Yes

Is it canon: Yes

Is it explicit: No

Is it endgame: No

Is it shippable: Yes

Bottom line: Y’all fools: Stanning Lord Byron and his half-sister Augusta whom he didn’t even meet until he was nearly grown, never mind whether he actually knocked her up. Me, an intellectual: William and Dorothy Wordsworth are right there, eloping to the countryside and spending the rest of their days holed up in a picturesque cottage composing poetry.

First let’s have a detour where I yell about Crimson Peak (2015, dir. Guillermo del Toro). A few of the recent asks about incest vs. the patriarchy got me thinking about this line from Jane & Dorothy: “the malevolent power of married women over their spinsters-in-law.” Between the wife and the unmarried sister it’s obvious who has more power and it’s clearly not the spinster sister-in-law—and yet Guillermo del Toro would have us believe that Edith in Crimson Peak is helpless before Lucille’s resistance to giving up the skeleton key (the one that opens every room in the house). Edith is made out to be the victim of Lucille’s bloodthirsty unhinged jealousy, when she’s not only THE WIFE she’s got ALL THE MONEY, she’s literally holding all the cards??? It doesn’t add up. This biography is the antidote to that. It looks at the paucity of options open to your average 19th century girl who just wants a Room of One’s Own to write in, and situates her bid for freedom in the context of having no good options. The trouble with “Crimson Peak” was not that Edith wasn’t relatable or that I didn’t identify with her; when Thomas tears her down in that faux-breakup speech he attacks her on the terrain where she’s most vulnerable, her abilities as a writer. The trouble with Crimson Peak was that this beat would have hit so much harder had it landed on Lucille, a woman who’s WAY more vulnerable than Edith by dint of having (1) no marriage prospects and (2) no inheritance. Without Thomas this bitch has (3) no survival strategy either! Otoh take away Thomas and Edith is still left with her dad’s $$$, Edith still has Alan waiting in the wings to swoop in & save her, in other words Edith will be just fine. No wonder Lucille feels so threatened!! The situations are not even comparable. Here then is Jane & Dorothy which offers two case studies of women whose impulse to write & create was just as strong as Edith’s, but whose plight was much closer to Lucille’s ie. precarious as fuck.

I picked this book up because it’s actually a dual biography of Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Austen, and I’m a basic bitch and Jane Austen is my eternal favorite. I’m going to focus on the Dorothy chapters but rest assured I read the Jane chapters with equal gusto. Jane Austen (b. 1775) and Dorothy Wordsworth (b. 1771) were both born into the British pseudo-gentry, which means they were too highborn to go and get a paying gig as a governess or companion but not highborn enough to have any independent source of income (neither of them had a dowry settled on them). While the two women never crossed paths, the arcs of their lives run in parallel as they pursue divergent strategies to secure their futures. So the primary imperative here is to avoid a life of domestic drudgery. But the secondary imperative, because these are both perceptive girls with rich inner lives, is this:

For an intelligent woman, confined to a society which denies her higher education and restricts her existence largely to the home, the male companion with whom she shares her life is her chief provider, not only of security and affection, but of intellectual stimulation.

This is a popular romance novel plot, do I want to marry a man who is a bore (possibly also a boor) or do I want to starve hmmmm. The point is that women are frequently starved for both affection and intellectual stimulation, and it’s little wonder Dorothy fell so hard for her brother William when he showered her with both. Dorothy and William were separated as children when, after the death of their mother, she was sent to live with an aunt in West Yorkshire (she was seven, he was eight). Nine years later they reconnected and sparks flew almost immediately. I mean I think their letters speak for themselves:

”the last time we were Together William won my Affection to a Degree which I cannot describe.”

What kind of brother needs to “win” his sister’s affection? Most of them treat sisters like furniture.

”Never have my eyes burst upon a scene of particular loveliness,” he wrote, “but I have wished that you could be transported to the place where I stood to enjoy it.”

standard “everything beautiful either reminds me of you, or makes me want to share it with you” pablum but EXTREMELY effective for all that

but enough he is my brother, why should I describe him? I shall be launching again into panegyric

Dorothy: hahaha but don’t you think my brother was looking mighty fiiiiiine today

”his attentions to me were such as the most insensible of mortals must have been touched with”

”I assure you so eager is my desire to see you that all obstacles vanish. I see you in a moment running or rather flying to my arms.”

That letter is from William, and you have to remember that William was supposed to be a huge dick who routinely ignored his friends’ missives leaving them in suspense whether he was alive or dead and yet he managed a lively & regular correspondence with Dorothy for years before they moved in together. It’s almost like he treated her … special.

”that sympathy which will almost identify us when we have stole to our little cottage”

These kids are already plotting their elopement jfc! Here are some snippets from Dorothy’s diary from much later, after they have in fact achieved The Dream of their own cottage:

”After dinner we made a pillow of my shoulder, I read to him and my Beloved slept.”

”The fire flutters and the watch ticks and I hear nothing save the Breathing of my Beloved and he now and then pushes his book forward and turns over a leaf.” It is a picture of domestic contentment such as Jane Austen draws to portray a genuinely happy marriage.

”After we came in we sat in deep silence at the window — I on a chair and William with his hand on my shoulder. We were deep in Silence and love, a blessed hour.”

This is literally #goals. Veevers points out that “the conflation of marriage with home, spinsterhood with insecurity” meant that “William was promising the kind of permanence and safety which women usually found in marriage.” Dorothy really thought she could Have It All: a home of her own and a rich, stimulating intellectual life shared with the man she loved. And she proceeded to spend the rest of her life making fair copies of his poems. Hell, she pushed him to be a poet in the first place (it was not at all clear initially that this was the best plan for William, who could just have easily have embarked on a career as a political polemicist, but it was Dorothy who pushed him to be a poet, Dorothy who spent the rest of her life copying out his verses in her fairer hand). Early on Dorothy & William befriended the poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, who was so envious of their bond that he complained, “You have all in each other, but I am lonely, and want you!” Can you b e l i e v e Coleridge actually said that. If one of you hoes doesn’t write me the William/Dorothy Historical RPF that’s Coleridge Outsider POV I s2g I will do my damnedest to die of consumption.

Veveers sums it up this way: “It was a relationship few women would be able to have with their husbands, for, at the time, the two sexes were expected to inhabit different mental landscapes.” To put it bluntly women had ovaries instead of brains; they just weren’t interested in the same stuff a man was. Otoh you have William and Dorothy Wordsworth, actual soulmates: the historical consensus is there is “some uncertainty as to whether she would be best described as muse, emotional support, secretary or co-author.” And she didn’t hide it, either. This is where you really see the difference between Dorothy, who is so open, and Austen heroines like Eleanor Dashwood (Sense & Sensibility), Fanny Price (Mansfield Park) or Anne Eliot (Persuasion) who also feel things deeply but had to regulate the bejeezus out of their emotional responses. This is Dorothy:

After any separation her joy at meeting her brother again was uncontrollable. “I believe I screamed,” she admitted on one occasion when there were witnesses.

Uncontrollable screaming in front of witnesses every time she’s reunited with her brother??? WE STAN. This is how low Dorothy’s spirits sink whenever he’s gone:

”I slept in Wm.’s bed, and I slept badly, for my thoughts were full of William.”

adkfjdkfjdkfjdk I just want to add that when William is home the floorboards are so thin that she can hear him pacing in the bedroom above hers, so his insomnia keeps both of them up at night but she doesn’t mind, she can’t sleep until he falls asleep, she would probably give up a kidney or a lung if she thought it would sell 500 more copies for him. I’m torn between GIRL HE AIN’T WORTH IT and stanning her even harder for being so ride or die on any topic that touches her brother (later, when he has kids, she decides William’s kids are smarter and better-looking than everyone else’s kids).

This is the most iconic line in the entire book, from a letter Dorothy writes to an interfering relative who deplores Dorothy’s judgment for throwing in her lot with a penniless failson like William:

”I affirm that I consider the character and virtues of my brother sufficient protection”

The icily scathing tone of the setdown is PERFECTION. But also, this just in your brother abandoned his pregnant Catholic mistress in France. You know this. Yet here you are gallivanting around the countryside in his company. In fact, when he proves too much of a coward to tell your uncle himself about the existence of said pregnant mistress—this is the uncle who funded all of William’s education and reasonably expects some return on it—he delegates Dorothy to break the news. Dorothy also winds up in charge of all correspondence with the poor girl, who writes occasionally asking for a little money or when is William coming back to France to marry me, and it’s Dorothy who has to fob her off. And this whole incident—the revelation of the French mistress, the break with the family, William refusing to take holy orders to become a clergyman—is so pivotal in their relationship! They were close before but this is the irrevocable step when Dorothy decides to join her fate to his. And her motivation could not be clearer:

William’s outspoken affection for her seems to have first aroused a reciprocal love in Dorothy, but it was his fall from grace, his isolation and his need of a friend, which provided the final catalyst that raised her gradually deepening affection into wholehearted, single-minded devotion.

She saw his need and responded almost involuntarily. She is a RESCUER.

Dorothy, was in one way, very fortunate to have fallen in love with her brother. “Rambling around the country on foot” with a slightly disreputable brother might bring down the censure of her more conventional relatives, but it was a good deal safer than rambling about with a man who was not a brother.

This is the kind of behavior that if two unrelated people engaged in it must have resulted in the man being honor-bound to extend an offer of marriage, because a woman has nothing if she doesn’t have her virtue. Two siblings roaming the countryside, picking flowers and wading thru streams and stargazing? My god what PRIME fodder for fake married tropes! Just present yourself at the first inn you come to as a married couple and then guess what? There was only one bed!!!!

at Grasmere “there was an unnatural tale current of Wordsworth … having been intimate with his own sister.”

tell me MOAR omg this is so deliciously Gothic i keep thinking about that line from Wuthering Heights “whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

at Alfoxton, “the master of the house,” it was said, “had no wife with him, but only a woman who passes for his sister.”

PASSES for his sister trololololol like they don’t act the way you’d expect of a brother and sister, like they’re too into each other.

And it was generally accepted that immorality and radical anti-British sentiment went together.

But really William got much more staid and less radical as he got older, and Dorothy was never political because her energies were centered on William William William. On top of which it’s hard to overlook the fact that William would go into Dorothy’s journals and “borrow” her words and publish them verbatim as his own; he felt as entitled to her intellectual labor as her domestic labor, and there is nothing radically egalitarian about that. So I definitely don’t think this is a case where incest is subversive so much as incest illuminating existing hierarchies & oppressions. Veveers writes: “An unmarried woman’s hold on her own time was extremely fragile. She could be made use of in any crisis, transported against her wishes” to fulfill another family members’ needs. Jane Austen’s sister Cassandra evidently shouldered both their weights when it came to this sort of emotional labor: writing letters of thanks & condolence, minding their brothers’ children, calming hypochondriac aunts down, attending births of little nephews & nieces. Cassandra doing all this extra labor gave Jane the space and time to write. Moreover Jane had formed the ambition to write. Dorothy, on the other hand, thought anything worth saying was already being said by William. And she didn’t have her own Cassandra to share the unceasing burden of housework with:

In fact, the domestic labor and childcare that lay ahead of Dorothy were almost indistinguishable from the duties she had escaped at Forncett rectory. But now she was to be living in a home she had chosen, with a man she loved.

Did it matter in the end, Dorothy’s rebellion? If she’d remained a hanger-on in her uncle’s household, living on his charity, her life would not have been outwardly all that different. I have to believe that her choices did matter, of course. It would be easy to sit here and speculate that if Dorothy had not poured all her mental and physical resources into supporting William’s career, she too might have produced another Pride & Prejudice, but naturally we cannot know that. What we know is that Dorothy and William were 100% in love, a fact that anyone with a modicum of reading comprehension can verify by reading their letters. Why is this not more widely discussed? William Wordsworth was not exactly an obscure poet. The explanation, again, comes back to patriarchy:

The idea that Dorothy might have inspired (or felt) desire at Dove Cottage was as abhorrent to mid-20th century academics as it was to gentlemen of the early 19th century … who preferred to think of unmarried women drooping and degenerating after the age of 25, rather than maintaining a subversive and disturbing sexuality.

I wish I could say that William and Dorothy grew old together at Dove Cottage. What actually happened is he got married (she talked him into it—she chose a mutual friend of theirs whom they’d known for ages) and accidentally fell in love with his wife oops. His new wife was neither young nor pretty, in fact she was painfully plain, but that William became genuinely attached to her there can be no doubt. Dorothy continued to live with them and look after their children until her death. So I think we have avoided the worst case scenario, the malevolent-power-of-the-married-woman-ruins-her-spinster-in-law’s-life scenario: This is what happened to Jane Austen when Jane’s father unexpectedly announced his retirement, uprooting Jane and Cassandra from the Steventon rectory where they’d lived all their lives and forcibly removing them to Bath, where Jane was so miserable she did no writing for years. All this upheaval on account of Jane’s brother and his wife wanting the Steventon rectory and its income for their own! The accursed woman was probably measuring the drapes before she’d moved in. Anyway, it is fortunate this open enmity did not characterize Dorothy Wordsworth’s relationship with her sister in law; they were fast friends and they remained friends after the latter’s marriage to William. But instead of William-and-Dorothy forming the nucleus of life at Dove Cottage now it was William-and-Mary, and if this did not sting at least a little Dorothy would not be human. She had been supplanted in William’s heart. I CRY.

Because I’m literal shipper trash I want to end on the bittersweet note of SIBLINGS EXCHANGING RINGS AS A SYMBOL OF COMMITMENT EVEN THO THEY CAN’T LEGALLY GET MARRIED. This is Dorothy’s description of the morning of William and Mary’s wedding, right before they leave the house to attend the ceremony:

”I gave him the wedding ring—with how deep a blessing! I took it from my forefinger where I had worn it the whole of the night before—he slipped it again onto my finger and blessed me fervently.” It might be said that William married her before he married Mary, and that Dorothy was making a promise in that upstairs room try like the one Mary was about to make in church.

it’s been two months since I read this book and i’m STILL SCREECHING byeeeee

[the--blackdahlia]

The Day the Music Died Chapter 9

Title: The Day the Music Died Chapter 9

Summary:  In 1959, a plane crash tragically took the lives of three musicians and their pilot. But the mysterious circumstances send the Winchester brothers on an adventure. Now they have a mystery to solve…before one of them joins the other three.

Warnings: None that I can think of

Present

It was a demon. A demon had sent Sam back in time somehow. Dean didn’t even know that demons had that kind of power. Unless it was a very old and very pissed off demon, and Dean knew the perfect one for that. Well, he knew several, but most, if not all of them were dead. Except for one.

Crowley.

He was sure that the self proclaimed King of Hell would be petty enough to hold on to the spirit of a teenage boy who was a victim of circumstance. The only thing he didn’t know was why he would do that. There was more to the story than he knew and he needed to get to the bottom of it. And he needed Cas to answer his freakin’ calls already!

There were all kinds of things that Dean was looking into. Could Ritchie have made a demon deal? Could he have pissed off the wrong demon? Wrong place at wrong time? Considering that Ritchie was only 17 when he died, Dean found it hard to believe that the demon deal was the right path, considering that most of them were 10 year deals and Crowley wasn’t that much of a heartless bastard.

“God, where is Sam when I need him?” Dean asked, looking over at the chair Sam would have been sitting in. It’s not that Dean minded doing the research, it’s just Sam loved doing it and he would much rather Sam be there.

“Dean.” A voice said behind him. Dean jumped up, ready to shoot, when he saw Cas standing there.

“Son of a bitch.” He growled, laying his gun on the table. “Where the hell have you been?”

“I’ve been busy.” Cas explained. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah well I think we’ve got things that are a little more important right now.” Dean said. Cas looked around the room.

“Where’s Sam?” He asked. Dean laughed.

“Sam is in the 1950’s because of a demon that is holding a ghost hostage.” Dean explained, making Cas look at him like he was crazy. “And I’ve been calling you so you could go back there and get him, because he’s going to die in a plane crash.”

“How do you know that?” Cas asked. Dean turned the laptop around to show the news article, listening Sam as one of the dead. “Oh.”

“Oh? That’s all you have to say?” Dean asked. “Go back there and get him!” Cas closed his eyes, trying to hone in on Sam’s soul so he could pull him out, but everytime he thought he got close, he was pushed away. “Why are you still here?”

“I can’t get to him.” Cas said.

“Can’t? Or won’t?” Dean asked.

“I can’t.” Cas said again. “I’m trying, but it’s like something is blocking me from getting to him.”

“How can something be blocking you?” Dean asked. Cas just shrugged. “Oh for the love of god…”

“You said it was a demon, right?” Cas asked. Dean nodded. “Well, maybe that’s what’s blocking me.”

“Can you sense if it’s Crowley?” Dean asked. Cas closed his eyes and tried to focus. But he wasn’t getting any readings on Crowley. He could get snippets of a demon lurking around, but he couldn’t find him. And it sure wasn’t Crowley. Crowley loved to show off.

“It’s not him.” Cas said. “Whoever it is, they’re old. And powerful.” Dean nodded, ready to just get sent back to the 1950’s when there was a knock on the door. Dean slowly made his way over, gun at the ready. Cas had his blade if he needed it. Dean slowly opened the door and relaxed, opening the door.

“Dean.” Maria said, standing there. “You’d be a hard man to track down if Sam hadn’t told me where you’d be.” Cas stared at her as she walked in. Maria looked over at him. “Sam didn’t talk about him though.”

“He’s a friend of ours. His name is Cas.” Maria nodded.

“He might have mentioned the name once or twice. I think I heard it...when he was...praying?” She shook her head. “Anyway, I’ve been carrying this around with me since 1959, and now that I’ve finally found you, I thought it was time to give it to you.” She handed Dean a worn out, yellowed envelope. Dean saw his name scrawled on the front in Sam’s all too familiar handwriting.

“You’ve had this since 1959?” He asked, looking up at her. She nodded.

“I’m glad that living in 2013 didn’t dull his letter writing skills any.” She joked. “Well, I guess I should be going now.”

“Thank you Maria.” Dean said. Maria nodded and turned to leave. Cas closed the door behind her then looked at Dean, who was already sitting on the bed, just staring at the envelope. He slowly opened it, seeing a letter and a couple photographs inside. There was one of Sam standing with Buddy, The Big Bopper, Ritchie, and a few other people he didn’t really recognize. He flipped it over and saw all the names listed, including Waylon Jennings, which surprised Dean a little. The other pictures, two of them, were almost the same, just different people. Dean laid them to the side and started to read the letter.

Dean,

If you’re reading this, I probably didn’t make it back. I gave this letter to Maria Holly. Hopefully you’ll get it at a decent time. And if you got this, I’m sure that you got some of the details from Maria. I tried to get back, but nothing worked. I would love to be able to come home. I’d love to be able to save Buddy and all of them, but I know I can’t do that. Ritchie is actually a really nice kid in real life. I wish you could’ve met him before he was a ghost. I think you would love all of them.

I work for Buddy, so I’ll be going on tour with him. Which means I will be there first hand to see him die. After it happens, I’m going to go back to hunting with Waylon. He’s very old school, but he’s cool. And he knows what he’s talking about. Maybe I can teach him about some of the new things that we face around our time.

I wish I knew what sent me back. Maybe you’re having more luck than me. I’ve tried calling to Cas, hoping that some version of him would hear me, but no luck. So I guess I’m going to get to live through the 60’s and 70’s. Maybe I’ll hit up all those concerts that you would love to go to and buy you some shirts. Somehow get them to Bobby or something.

I’ll see you around.

Sammy

Dean looked up at Cas. Cas could see the determination and heartbreak in Dean’s eyes. The letter wasn’t long, but it was enough.

“Find out what it blocking you so I can shoot it.” He growled. “Sammy’s coming home. I’m not letting him die. Not again.”

****

1959

Christmas came and went, and Buddy and Maria treated Sam to a wonderful holiday. Buddy’s family was so welcoming of him too, having heard lots of good things about him from their son over his stay there. It had felt like years since him and Dean had set down and shared a Christmas together. Honestly, it was probably before Dean went to hell. But January came quickly and Sam knew Buddy’s time was drawing to an end.

“Come on Sam. We’re going to be late.” Buddy said as he waited for Sam. They were meeting up with Waylon at the little studio just outside of Lubbock.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Sam called out to him, rushing down the stairs as he slipped his leather jacket on. “This hair stuff is more trouble than it is worth.”

“You know, I have a friend who is a barber…” Buddy suggested, a smile spreading on his face. Sam glared at him.

“I am not cutting my hair.” He said. Buddy just laughed. He loved teasing Sam about his hair. “I thought you said we were going to be late.” Buddy opened the door and motioned for Sam to follow him out to the car. The drive to the studio wasn’t that long and Buddy really just liked to give Sam a hard time.

Sam had learned to play the drums on a few songs, allowing for Carl Bunch to have a few moments to relax. Buddy was making plans to start a band with Sam and Waylon once this dumb tour was over. The Winter Dance Party tour. They would be on the road less than a month but would have 24 shows. Sam wasn’t looking forward to it, and honestly, neither was Buddy. He knew he needed to perform to get money, but something about this tour just seemed off to him. He could tell Maria didn’t want him to go. It was the first time they would be apart for a long time since they had gotten married. He was sure that was it.

The studio had a full parking lot of cars. Sam spied Waylon standing outside of his, smoking. He tossed the butt down and crushed it with his foot when he saw Sam and Buddy pulling in. Buddy parked the car and Sam got out, stretching some as he did. He was used to going long miles in the Impala, because it was like home to him. Buddy’s car wasn’t bad, and it was one of the newer models for the time, but it wasn’t Baby. And it killed his back.

“You guys ready?” Waylon asked, joining the pair as they headed toward the studio. “There’s a lot of energy in here.”

“We’re going to have to meet them sometime.” Buddy said, opening the main front doors. “It’s either now or right when start the tour and are having to share a bus with them.” Sam, Buddy, and Waylon made their way inside. Making their way down the hall, they made their way to the room where their party was waiting for them.

“Well, there you are!” Tommy Allsup saisd, standing from his chair. “Always late.”

“Yeah, but I know how to make an entrance.” Buddy smirked. Tommy and Carl had already met Sam and of course they knew Waylon. Carl was helping Buddy teach Sam some beats, while Tommy pouted that he was upset he didn’t have a backup guitarist.

“It’s nice to meet you finally.” A man said, coming forward to shake his hand. “I’m JP Richardson, but everyone calls me the Big Bopper.” Sam stared with wide eyes as the two musicians shook hands. Another man, one that Sam knew from his own time, came over. He wasn’t as ghostly looking this time though.

“I’m Ritchie.” He said, shaking Buddy’s hand just like JP had. All three of these musicians together was a little surreal. Especially because Sam knew that in about a month, those three would be dead. Sam wanted to save them. He wanted to convince them all to stay on the bus, to not go anywhere near the plane that day. But he knew the consequences of his actions. Maria knew it too. That’s why she had been acting so weird since January hit. It was just a waiting game now.

“Sam.” Waylon said, elbowing the hunter in the side. “You spaced out on me. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a big of a headache.” Sam smiled at him. “Was someone talking to me?”

“That’d be me.” JP laughed. A hearty, deep laugh. “Are you going on tour with us? Carl here has been telling us how good of a drummer you are.”

“I’m not that good.” Sam chuckled, a blush started to appear on his checks.

“Sammy here is just modest.” Buddy laughed. “He’s actually pretty good. A few more years of practice and he might be one of the greats. I can’t believe how fast he picked it up.”

“My mama said it was no time before I was just learning instruments. I would pick one up and ‘bam!’, I could master it in about a month.” Ritchie explained.

“How old are you kid?” JP asked, looking Ritchie up and down.

“Seventeen man. The sweet age, as my brother says.” Ritchie explained.

“Dear god, you guys just keep getting younger and younger.” He joked.

“I’m twenty-nine, if that makes you feel any better.” Sam told him. JP smiled.

“Actually, yes it does.” JP smirked. “AT least I’m not the oldest in the room.” Sam just shook his head. “Well, I was under the impression that we were going to play for each other and not just make small talk.

“Wait!” Ritchie said. “I have to get a picture to show my mama.” There was a bit of light teasing, but soon, a Kodak was coming out and the group was all getting together. Sam stood off to the side. “Sam, what are you doing?” Ritchie asked as he got the camera set up.

“Waiting for you guys to get done.” Sam said. JP shook his head.

“Come on, get over here.” He said.

“But…” Sam started to argue.

“Sam, you’re as much apart of this as everyone else.” Buddy said. “Now get over here.” Waylon reached out and grabbed Sam’s hand, pulling him into the group. Once they were settled, Ritchie started the timer and ran to join the group. Once the flash cube went off, he pocketed the camera. He wanted to get it developed before the tour so he could have a fresh roll for the tour, and he could get some pictures sent out to his mom.

“Okay, are we gonna play or not?” JP asked.

“Yeah, yeah, we can play now.” Ritchie laughed. “Who wants to go first?”

“How about the old man goes first?” Buddy teased, since he wasn’t much older than Ritchie. JP glared him down. “What? Afraid you might break a hip?”

“I’ll show you breaking a hip.” JP grumbled as he got set up, ready to play “Chantilly Lace”. Sam set back with Buddy and Ritchie, ready to watch the performance at hand.

Forever Tags: @imboredsueme @aiaranradnay @theas-bedtime-stories @af112992 @dekahg @cutie1365 @marvel-af @bandobsession98 @nanie5 @sammat97 @dslocum89 @i-would-die-for-woodland-demars @newtospnfandom @xxwarhawk @luciathewinchestergirl @tina8009

Supernatural Tags: @essie1876 @smoothdogsgirl @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @sabigmart @jadepc @winchestergeekfreak @winchesterslibrary @atc74 @anathewierdo

The Day the Music Died Tags: @leximus98

[profoundnet]

PROFOUNDBOND MEMBER MASTERPOST - APRIL 2018

Header by @pantydean and is available on merch from her redbubble store. You can use all those fancy emojis on our Discord Server!

The Masterpost is open for all creations by ProfoundBond members which are posted in entirety during the month of April.

Member Contributions for April 2018!

Masterpost below the cut.

60r3d0m - @60r3d0m​ - 60r3d0m

The Wedding Night

Summary: When a monster starts targeting newlywed couples, Dean does the logical thing and offers his hand in marriage. Cas accepts.

And it's all going good. Maybe Dean's a little too dedicated to the ruse when he accidentally calls Cas 'sweetheart' in private a couple of times, and maybe he kind of takes it upon himself to be the Best Husband Ever, ushering him around with a hand to the small of his back while uttering a disproportionate amount of praise, but other than that, it's all under control.

But then the monster attacks and Cas doesn't remember anything anymore.

And then there's a snooping innkeeper who makes it impossible to tell Cas about their sham marriage.

And it probably doesn't help that it happens to be their wedding night and Cas is intent on seeing their consummation through.

NSFW

Tags: amnesia, fake/pretend relationship, bed sharing, marriage, dubious consent, first kiss, first time, shower sex, fluff, humour, happy ending

amirosebooks - @amirosebooks - amirosebooks

Forgetting Your Blues

Summary: Dean Jones doesn't know his real name. He woke up on a public park bench a few months back with an empty wallet and a driver's license listing the name Dean Jones with his picture. The name doesn't feel right on his tongue, but he doesn't remember what part is wrong.

The cop who found him in the park got Dean a job in a local diner. The diner feels comfortable to Dean. He understands the rhythm of the place, the ebb and flow of the people and food, even if he's clearly never carried a tray of hot plates in his life. He settles into his new life. He makes new friends. He takes beautiful women and men and people to his bed for comfort on long nights. He has nightmares about blood covering his hands.

Who is he?

Why has no one come looking for him?

What has he done?

Why did he fall apart when he saw a guy wearing a tan trenchcoat?

Tags: Graphic Depictions Of Violence; Castiel/Dean Winchester; minor dean winchester/others; Amnesia; Temporary Character Death; Canonical Character Death; post season 12 episode 23 Fix-It; Getting Together; Fluff and Angst; Fade to black sex; Diners castiel with scruff; dean works in a diner; Openly Bisexual Dean Winchester

Dean's Season 13 Grief

Summary: A look at Dean's grief over Cas with Metallica lyrics

Cryptomoon - @cryptomoon​

Dean x Pie

Summary: Dean dreaming of his beloved.

Tags: Dean Winchester, Pie, Digital Art

Noir!Cas

Summary: Noir!Cas drawn for the Profound Robin round 2 banner.

Tags: Noir, Castiel, Digital Art

envydean - @envydean - hollyblue2

The brightness of the sun will give me just enough

Summary: To bury my love, in the Moondust

- For crypto's birthday

I'm Your Huckleberry

Summary: DEANCAS CREATIONS CHALLENGE

↳ Prompt: 13x06 Tombstone

Tags: 13x06

Moonlit Sky

Summary: They'd been busy on their actual anniversary, so Dean decides to make it up to Castiel.

Tags: Surgeon!Cas, Police Officer!Dean, Established Relationship, Anniversary, cheesy celebrations, Serenading, Domestic Fluff, Fluff

Appreciation

Summary: Over in the corner is Castiel Novak. He’s not been at the school long but today he’s all alone; just last week, Dean was sure he saw him hanging out with Samandriel and Andy but today they’re nowhere to be seen. That is until he looks elsewhere and find them laughing at each other on a different table.

Dean frowns. The guy doesn’t have his bag on him or any food in front of him. It’s far too early in their lunch break for him to have finished already.

Tags: High School AU, Light Angst, Fluff, sharing food, hand holding, First Kiss, Poor!Castiel

Foxymoley - @foxymoley

Trueform!Castiel

Summary: Trueform!Castiel with added tentacles for Soba's benefit. ;-)

Tags: Trueform!Cas, angel, spn, tentacles

Icarusinflight - @candybarrnerd - icarusinflight

trying to keep you

Summary: He reaches out for Dean's wrists, using the grip to pull Dean's hands from his pockets, and up to inspect. As he expected there's still traces of blood on his hands. They’ve been washed, but it's still there, under his nails and in his cuticles.

“Cas—”

“Don't,” Cas interrupts him. He doesn't know what Dean is planning on saying, but knows nothing good can come of it. Cas drags his eyes back up to Dean's face, and this time Dean looks at him, eyes locking on each other. “Just let me take care of you.”

Dean is a man possessed with a goal, the goal to get the colt back, and he'll do whatever it takes to get it.

Cas's only goal is to make sure the man he knows is still there when the dust settles.

NSFW

Tags: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, mentions of interrogation/torture, Praise, Cleaning, cleaning body and soul, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

in sickness or health

Summary: “This means forever,” he tells Dean, “this means in sickness and in health and it means I’ll never leave you, never again.”

A series of snippets in a world where Dean's memory sometimes fails him.

Tags: Amnesia, Memory Loss, Traumatic Brain Injury, sadness abounds, happiness too, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Dean takes a lot of knocks to the head and i think about that a lot

jad - @jadstiel​ - jad

diamond star halo

Summary: They're doing that thing again, where Cas is staring at Dean with the intensity of a dog trying to remind his owner that it's past dinner time. Dean's staring right back like the first one to blink is buying the next round. Sam's aware there's a conversation going on that he isn't privy to and he's used to it, by this point, but it's still *rude.*

"So, as I was saying," Sam tries to interrupt the resounding silence, "if we can just figure out a — "

"Sure," Dean says, and Sam stutters to a halt, because sure *what?* "I mean, yeah. Yes. Dude, you don't even have to ask."

Cas looks like Dean just slapped him in the face, bloodshot eyes comically wide in a *how dare you* or maybe a *are you drunk sort* of way. Sam can empathize.

Tags: literally nothing bad happens, it's all fluff, s11-ish shenanigans, nbd possession, accidental Marriage Proposal, look these things just happen, Dean/Cas Tropefest 5k Mid-Winter Challenge

levi_cas_tho - @levicastho - levi_cas_tho

A Kiss For Good Luck

Summary: “So, you gonna give me a good luck kiss or what?”

It’s clearly one of Dean’s attempts to act like a dick, but once the thought enters Castiel’s mind, he can’t shake it. Castiel has, much to his dismay, developed somewhat of a crush on the other boy. To feel Dean’s lips pressed against his own, even just for a split second, would be… Besides, for all that Dean puts Castiel through, he deserves at least a little payback.

Tags: High school au, Mutual pining, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, tutoring

MsCaptainWincheser - @mscaptainwinchester - rons_pigwidgeon

Lies & Other Word Scrambles

Summary: Castiel must suffer through an office social event after his boss threatens his job if he doesn't attend. Thankfully, a flirtatious 'intern' is there to help.

NSFW

Tags: Escort!Dean, office party, blow jobs

Neonbat666 - @neonbat666 - Neonbat

Must have been a blue moon

Summary: When the world is in shambles, and all hope seems out of their reach, there is only one person Dean turns to. Castiel picks up the pieces every time, even when the shards fracture him in return.

Created for the Deancas Tropefest

NSFW

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester,Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester,Endverse, Angst Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, drug references, A bit of rough play, Hurt and comfort, Porn with plot and feels ,Human Castiel Alternate Universe - ,Croatoan/Endverse, Fallen Angel Castiel (Supernatural)

Nera_Solani - @nera-solani - Nera_Solani

Treading unknown Waters

Summary: When a researcher on mythical creatures goes over board and strands on a desert island, she doesn't expect to get the opportunity to learn more about sirens than anyone ever has.

Turns out, they can be a lot more human than most people think...

Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, desert island, siren Castiel, sailor Dean, shipwrecked, pirates, POV outsider, inspired by the fanfiction “Ensnared”

profound-boning - @profound-boning - profound-boning

Ocean Sized Love

Summary: Cas glances at the clock and acknowledges that he simply doesn’t have time to read and fully appreciate Dean’s letter right now, so he tucks it carefully into his bag in order to bring it home safely. Then, he carefully sorts the rest of the letters and bundles them up for his students to open when they return.

His mind wanders, however, to open seas and a hot sun, to the large ship and fast planes he’s read about so many times. To a crowd of sailors all described lovingly, and to one particular officer who has summarily captured the affections of one elementary school teacher in the Boston suburbs.

Tags:  Castiel (Supernatural) Dean Winchester Balthazar (Supernatural) Gabriel (Supernatural) Minor Characters, Alternate Universe - No supernatural, Alternate Universe – Soulmates, Teacher Castiel, Military, Navy Dean Winchester, Soldier Dean Winchester, POV Castiel, Castiel Has Self-Esteem Issues, Pen Pals, Falling In Love, Meet-Cute, Aquariums, Past Balthazar/Castiel, childhood crush, Zero romantic Balthazar/Cas beyond one kiss

RavensCAT - @ravenscat-tumbler​ - RavensCAT

New Beginnings

Summary: Sam was freaking out. This could very well be the same banshee who took his brother’s hearing. He’s on the floor with his hands covering his ears as tight as he could press. He knows exactly what this monster was capable of.

Banshee’s usually only scream when they predict the deaths of a loved one but this one, this one was not like the others. This banshee seems to have gone rogue.

Tags: Deaf!Dean, Canon, banshee, rogue banshee, Dean & Eileen friendship, American Sign Language, coda 11x11, Fluffy Destiel, Destiel, Saileen, fluffy saileen, hearing loss at young age, Happy Story, minor sadness, Episode: s11e11 Into the Mystic, Post-Episode: s11e11 Into the Mystic, Happy Ending, Loving Castiel, Loving Dean Winchester, Loving Sam ,Winchester, Everyone is loving, Supportive Castiel, Supportive Sam Winchester, Sam & Castiel Friendship, Brotherly Love

saltnhalo - @saltnhalo​ - saltnhalo

Little Blue Dragon

Summary: Dean Winchester may have a reputation for being a skilled craftsman and blacksmith, but his life is just like anyone else’s. He’s over-worked and under-slept, and it’s all because of the niggling feeling in the back of his mind that tells him he’s… forgetting something. Still, he can’t let his weird dreams or errant thoughts get in the way of his work and his love for his craft. The strange feeling goes ignored.

That is, until he meets a man with jewel-blue eyes and an aura of intrigue. Castiel slots into his life in a way that Dean had never thought possible, and Dean grows accustomed to the mysterious man’s visits and brilliant smiles and tales of far-away places.

He’d never known he was missing a piece of himself until he met Castiel, and he thinks that Cas might feel the same way.

Until Castiel disappears from Dean’s life completely.

NSFW

Tags: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Magic, Blacksmith Dean Winchester, Mage Sam Winchester, Creature Castiel, Dragon Castiel, Pining, Soulmates, Minor Violence, Frottage, Dean/Cas Pinefest 2018

A Lesson In Obedience

Summary: Castiel steps in to help relieve Dean's work-related stress. Dean still brings some of his attitude to the table.

NSFW

Tags: TA Dean Winchester, Teacher Dean Winchester, Dom/sub, Sub Dean, Dom Castiel, Dean in Panties, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sex Toys, Butt Plugs, Spanking, bratty dean, Aftercare, Disobeying Orders, Stressed Dean Winchester, BDSM, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings

sternchencas - @sternchencas​ - sternchencas

A Study In Fake

Summary: Although Dean has a job, he's always looking for some extra money, so he's bummed out when he can't take part in a lucrative couples study at the local college. At least until Castiel Novak steps into his life out of nowhere and a throwaway joke turns into a serious relationship. Well, a fake one, but nobody needs to know that, right?

Tags: fake dating, mutual pining, bed sharing, fluff

supernatural9917 - @supernatural9917fic​ -  supernatural9917

Crash and Slow Burn

Summary: Dean Winchester crashes his car and is rescued by Castiel Novak. It's the beginning of a beautiful friendship...

NSFW

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Cassie Robinson/Dean Winchester, Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Meg Masters, Ruby/Sam Winchester, Sarah Blake/Sam Winchester, Daphne Allen/Castiel, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Friends to Lovers, Police Officer Dean, Social Worker Castiel, Drug Addict Sam Winchester, Good Crowley (Supernatural), Slow Burn, Police Officer Benny Lafitte, Police Officer Bobby Singer, car crash, Gabriel Being Gabriel, Bromance to Romance

Do You Need a Stepdad?

Summary: When Claire Novak tweets a picture of her dad cooking, she didn't expect to go viral, or for everyone to be quite so hot for her dad.

Based on a photo prompt.

Tags: Meet-Cute, Twitter, Instagram, based on a prompt, Dad Cas

surlybobbies - @surlybobbies - surleybobbies

Freeze Frame

Summary: Dean's got about two minutes before Cas comes back, which is more than mildly inconvenient because Dean's just found out Cas is in love with him.

Tags: friends to lovers, mutual pining, teacher castiel, minor sam/eileen, photographer castiel

Right Where We Left It

Summary: Flower emergencies didn’t hold off just because the love of your life was the only available florist in town.

(In the wake of Mary's death, Dean comes back to establish his flower shop. Cas avoids him - until he can't.)

Tags: Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Flower Shop AU , Florist Dean Winchester, Returning Home, Reunions, Background Claire Novak, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester

thatpeculiarone - @ilovetodreamx​ - thatpeculiarone

Curtain Call

Summary: Dean always had trouble describing things. However, if he were to describe his life, he would describe it as a performance.

Through the mechanical nature of his routine, to the smiles he forces everyday, his life is one big show.

And with any good show, there is always finale, a grandeur to finish it all.

Even the best performances, have to end at some point.

NSFW

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Mechanic!Dean, Steve!Cas, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, References to Addiction, Suicidal!Dean, Depression.

theaeronaut - @theaeronaut​ - Arronaut

 crooked halo

Summary: castiel lit up by his halo

Tags: castiel, cas, spn, angel

Dandelion Halo

Summary:Castiel's halo of dandelion seeds, starting to blow away

Tags: cas, castiel, spn, i wish for this

Dandelion Man

Summary: i don't even know. he has dandelions in his eyes, it's whatever

Tags: cas, castiel, spn, spn fanart

Dandelion man

Summary: Castiel's wings as drifting dandelion seeds

Tags: cas, castiel, spn, i wish for this

Tender

Summary: Dean and Cas laying in bed cuddling

Tags: cas, castiel, dean, dean winchester, spn, supernatural

Grasp

Summary: Cas and Dean hold each others faces looking very much like they're about to kiss

Tags: cas, castiel, dean, dean winchester, destiel, spn

Collaborations

The Sound of Silence

Author: Destimushi - @destimushi - Destimushi Author: envydean - @envydean - hollyblue2

Summary: It's been weeks since Dean's had pie, and Castiel hopes the diner they're going to tonight will have something to shut up his husband's constant complaining. Sadly, the odds are not in Castiel's favour.

Tags: deaf!Cas, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, distinct lack of pie, Adoption

Iron and Ice

Author: A Diamond - @alxdiamond - A_Diamond Artist: Correlia - @correlia-be​

Link to art

Summary: Dean was so focused on his work that he didn’t notice he had a visitor until he turned to drop the last one into the quenching bath. It was just a customer, and one of his regulars at that, which made his surprised yelp and his half-undressed state both all the more embarrassing.

Castiel looked even more flushed with the heat than Dean felt, the color heavy in his face. Maybe he’d been exerting himself, or perhaps he was more sensitive to hot weather than most people. Either way, it made for quite a contrast against the patch of dark blue scales that covered his right cheek.

Tags: Dean/Cas Tropefest 2018 Mid-Winter 5k, Alternate Universe - Historical Fantasy, Blacksmith Dean Winchester, Dragon Castiel, Daring Rescues, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss

Change of Plans

Author:  envydean - @envydean - hollyblue2 Artist: dragonpressgraphics - dragonpress - pherryt Link to art

Summary: Castiel is grumpy when they get to the motel, and Dean is determined to find out why.

Tags: Fluff, hints of angst, bed sharing, Getting Together, Road Trip

Hand to Mouth

Author: noxlee - @nox-lee - noxlee Artist: uncelestial - @uncelestieldestiel Link to art

Summary: Dean Winchester has been a reckless daredevil since Castiel first met him in the fourth grade. Over the years, Castiel has been reluctantly dragged into all manner of dangerous situations by his best friend. But the stunt they attempt on the night of their college graduation goes horribly wrong, and Dean and Cas find themselves with badly burned hands.

They recuperate at the Novak family cabin, where both find themselves frustrated over the inability to use their hands for the most basic of daily tasks— not least of which is the inability to clean the pipes, so to speak. Born of boredom and desperation, Dean proposes a new dare that doesn’t just cross the line of friendship, it obliterates it.

But what’s fun and games for Dean turns serious for Castiel, who has secretly pined for his best friend since they were kids. Burns will heal, but will a heart be broken forever? To make things right, Dean may have to face his biggest feat of daring yet.

NSFW

Tags: Alternate Universe, Minor Injuries, Injury Recovery, Friends With Benefits, Pining, Porn with Feelings

Team Free Skiing

Author: supernatural9917 - @supernatural9917fic -  supernatural9917 Artist: Potatofu - @theabsolutemagicpotato - potatofu

Summary: Jack is obsessed with the Winter Olympics, especially the downhill events. The world isn't currently ending, so Team Free Will 2.0 + Mary decide a ski trip sounds like just the thing!

Written for the SPN Holiday Reverse Mini Bang

Tags: Team Free Will 2.0, ski trip, Jealous Dean Winchester, Winter Olympics, Fluff, season 13 divergent, SPN Holiday Reverse Mini Bang

Whisper Its Name

Author: supernatural9917 - @supernatural9917fic -  supernatural9917 Artist: Delicious-irony - @delicirony - delicious-irony

Summary: English actor Castiel Novak is determined to make Balthazar Roché's masterpiece novel into a film. All-American beefcake Dean Winchester is determined to shake off typecasting and prove his acting chops. Can they get past their initial dislike of each other and do justice to the tragic romance at the heart of Whisper Its Name?

Written for the Dean/Cas Midwinter 5K Tropefest based on art by delicious-irony.

NSFW

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Actors, costume drama, English Castiel

[crossedbeams]

Valentines (20-25)

The Last Ones. MSR through the years. 2013-18

1-7 (1993-2000) || 8-13 (2001-2006) || 14 - 19 (2007-2012)

(’13)

It’s been eight weeks since the world was supposed to end and she hasn’t heard from him. She texted even though she said she wouldn’t , “Mulder we need to talk” but he’s not responding. Perhaps the apocalypse was not for everyone but only for them. She’d go over but she knows it will end one of two ways, in bed or bitterness, and she is too broken to put herself back together after either. So she ends it the only way she knows how. She accepts a date from a persistent radiologist and sees her solicitor. On Valentines Day she receives flowers and plans to serve papers. She can’t divorce him, they’ve committed felonies together but never managed matrimony, but she can sign over their house into his name and formalise the separation. It would feel wrong to make love to another man with Mulder’s heart beating in what on paper is still her home. She never promised ‘til death’ but the principle holds, and she tries to divorce it and give it away, to give herself away. 

When the time comes she can’t sign off on an ending. She calls off the courier and the date, and slips between new sheets with her old life in a thick manila folder on the cold side of the bed.

(’14)

Scully tells her therapist that she thinks Mulder is depressed. She’s trying to talk more in their sessions and it’s easier to diagnose him than herself. Dr Farris is the only date in her diary for the day, and she suspects the week but looking forward to blank pages and blanker evening is... she pauses at the word depressing because she doesn’t want it to apply to her. She looks around the office and is glad that there are no decorations or cards. It’s comfortingly aromantic and she supposes that this too is what her life has become. It took her years to find the romance in who she and Mulder were, to recognise the love in every mindless drive and harrowing near-miss. She thinks he might be depressed without it, might not know how to be with her without it, might not know how to be himself without it. She feels a touch on her shoulder and looks behind for Mulder, but there’s nobody, only Dr Farris now on the sofa next to her, unacknowledged questions weighing down the only human touch Scully has felt in weeks and there’s a heavy relief in admitting the truth. It is not only Mulder who is lost. Her heart beats hard as she shares her secret and quiet acceptance is a loving gift.

(’15)

Her thumb hovers over the phone screen until it greys, then fades to black. It’s one letter but it feels like more. She rolled over to pick up his morning message, forgetting that it’s Valentines Day, comfortable in their new normal, close but never touching, only to find he has changed the dynamic. She has her apartment and he has the house and they both know where to find each other but there are safeguards and safe spaces to guard against dependency. The texts came a couple of months after the pills landed in her cabinet, two weeks after she found she was sleeping better than she had in years. They were controlled and casual, a window in Mulder’s life as he pulled it back together and she made one for him into hers. She knows he is learning to bake and is very bad at it. She has seen her old mixer fall to his progress and surprised herself by laughing. He knows that she has joined a bookclub and is desperately looking for a way to leave politely. It’s a little clinical, but excising the messy, rotten core of what they had become seems to be letting them both heal, apart for now but still together. They have a routine; Mulder’s still a night owl and she wakes up every day to a snippet of his thoughts, she replies before work and then leaves him until lunch. Except today there is a development, it was supposed to just be a Thursday but he has made it more by adding a kiss. It’s only two lines, crossed in the middle, the prefix to what brought them together, but now it’s proof that after all this time, across all this distance, he is still her Valentine. The second hand on her watch tells her she will be late for work and she unlocks her phone and hits two keys. The X and then send. It’s still love.

(’16)

There have been wobbles since they got back on the bike, invisible baggage throwing them off balance and out of their slowly expanding comfort zone. They would have been happy enough to inch forward, she thinks, but life has never afforded them the privilege of working towards being ready. They had been dropping hints; she had worn his shirt to bed and he’d worn a smile for days. There had been a kiss, half a kiss anyway, with the promise that next time there would be more. And then her mother had died, the bike had flown off a hidden cliff and Mulder had thrown himself between her and the ground. She had let herself hold on, and once again they were tangled in something life altering with no clear beginning and she doesn’t want it to end again.

February 14th, sitting on a log with death on her lap, Scully shares her worries and Mulder gives her his hand. They have been given another chance. They will not waste it.

(’17)

Of the many hundred dinners they have shared, few have been dates. This is definitely a date. There are cloth napkins and leather bound wine lists and Scully cannot stop giggling. She’d be embarrassed if it wasn’t so ridiculous to see Mulder trying to fit in, to wriggle himself comfortable between his starched collar and combed hair. He seems nervous which is odd when he is the one that grew up with silver spoons. Scully had expected takeout and got L’Opale and she feels like she’s stolen an evening out of somebody else’s life. This is not them, the table is too broad, the conversation to mellifluous and when the string quartet swells and a guy two tables over drops to one knee, she taps Mulder’s wrist and nods for an exit. 

Two streets over in a greasy diner, shirtsleeves rolled and his jacket on her bare shoulders feels much more like home. There’s Elvis on tinny speakers and the menu sticks slightly to the table and the coffee is terrible. Mulder smiles round his burger and she loves him. She tells him so, unprompted and out loud and is rewarded with choking and she’s laughing again because they are fifty and disastrous and eating junk food while their deposit soaksaway into a fancy, candlelit French tablecloth. She laughs so hard she doesn’t notice Mulder untangling their feet under the booth, so hard her eyes are swimming and it takes her seconds to find him kneeling on her side of the booth with an onion ring in one hand and her mother’s ring in the other. She takes the onion ring and he looks surprised that he’s holding it and starts to tell her about thwarted plans and moments and that she doesn’t have to, ‘Scully if you don’t want this then that’s okay I just needed you to know I am willing- I want....’ and she knows everything she could ever need to know, bad and good and she doesn’t care any more. She’d have said yes to the onion ring, in a morgue, any time over the last 20 years and when his face rushes at hers with all the speed of happily ever after she knows they have finally got something right.

(’25)

They buy each other cards and it’s normal, hers has a bad medical pun and his has the Loch Ness Monster and isn’t even a Valentines card but it doesn’t matter. 

A week ago he’d printed out the surveillance footage of her and William at the gas station and put it on the fridge. She’d added some of the pictures from his room and from time to time one would walk in and find the other just staring at their son, getting to know what they can as they wait for another chance to do it in person. They are good at waiting. In the top left corner is the baby picture that is theirs. It still hurts a little but it’s a clean pain, diluted by gap years filled in and speaking to the boy their son has become. It is a shared pain. 

It’s their twenty-fifth Valentine’s together, one way or another, and no two of the intermediate years has found them the same way. For now there are tacky cards on the table, dinner for two in the oven and his arm on her hip, her head on his shoulder in the quiet kitchen. Next year is not guaranteed, they both know that the same way they know that their truth is still half-obscured, but they have found one thing they can agree on, one constant in a sea of uncertainty.

For once, both past evidence and gut instinct point the same way, to a shared future, Mulder and Scully, two in seven billion and counting each day as a blessing.