#our conception of life is hard to separate from sleep huh

[outeremissary]

kasander + 😴 please!

Thank you ❤️ Sleep questions about D&D elves always lead peculiar places, don't they?

hc + 😴 for a sleep-themed headcanon

Kasander seldom sleeps willingly. Their trance is already haunted by half-alien memories of blood and darkness, disorganized images they struggle to stitch together and match to their origins. It's upsetting even without any supernatural incursion causing more extreme visions, and it makes them fear resting. Sleeping, on the rare experiment trying to avoid the memories, is much worse. They always dream, and they always dream Bhaal's dreams. And it takes such a terribly long time to wake. So they avoid sleeping, and they're thankful not to have a reason to.

However, sleep is the most convenient way for the Emperor to contact them, and the Emperor has a way of pulling them under whenever he pleases. When they first met and the Emperor was still in the form of the Dream Visitor the Emperor offered to soothe their nights from the restless, terrible trance by quieting their dreams- if only they would sleep, of course. Disoriented, still largely amnesiac, and distressed by the visions, Kasander agreed eagerly (there was a lot of agreeing with the Emperor then) and committed themself to the psionic protection out of desperation for any relief from the growing fear there was something wrong with them. It did seem to work- mostly- but when Kas began to break with the Emperor they stopped sleeping nightly as well. By that point they were ready to grapple with the horrors of trance again, as painful and difficult as they were.

[xiaq]

Hi, I have a question re:sex and Christianity. Small background: I still go to church, and I still live with my parents even though I'm not much younger than you, because housing is very very expensive where I live (pretty common here, I would say about 2/3 of my friends live with their parents and we are decently privileged kids)

Anyway. How does one get over purity culture? To be clear, I've never been told in church not to have sex, I've never gotten the gendered lessons that you got. But I am terrified of having sex. My first real, multi-year relationship just ended and while there was hand stuff etc, there was never any p in v sex (lol I feel 12). But I still had insane anxiety about being pregnant despite being on bc. And I think its because I know my parents would be so disappointed if I had sex. And if I was pregnant I could imagine all the gossip. And honestly I think im from a pretty open church, b/c one of our previous ministers kids recently got married at 8 months pregnant and lots of church people were at the wedding and supportive and her parents were there and everything.

I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???

(Asking because it seems like you've been pretty open about purity culture/removing yourself from it)

CW for sex talk (again)

How does one get over purity culture?

Oh man. That really is the million-dollar question, huh? Obviously, I can only answer re my personal experiences, and this is something you should talk to a therapist about, but I can tell you how I’ve tackled it with my therapist at least.

Purity culture is, at its core, an ideology that is perpetuated by shame. If you’re indoctrinated into purity culture when you’re a kid, the concepts become baked into the way you construct your identity, your perception of self, and your perception of your sexuality. It’s practically intrinsic, by the time you’re an adult, to feel shame any time you’re reminded you have a body, much less a sexuality.

According to the chapels I sat through every week as a kid, a girl's body could be 3 things: an intentional stumbling block for men, an accidental stumbling block for men, or unnoticeable. Women were to strive for the third option so as to keep their (and their male friends/authority figures) purity intact. After all, if a boy, or even your male teacher, had impure thoughts about you, it was your fault for tempting them (which, holy shit. I still can’t believe that was a thing I bought into for so long. If my 45 yr old grown-ass teacher had impure thoughts because he could see my 12 yr old collarbone, that sure as hell wasn’t my fault. But I digress.) The Only time a woman’s body can be something else, is when she gives it to her husband, at which point she must suddenly flip the switch in her brain that she is now allowed to be a Sexual Being and she must perform Sexual Duties despite living in outright fear of her own body and sexuality for years (decades?) up until this point. Jesus take the wheel.

Purity culture isn’t a thing you can just decide to walk away from if you’ve grown up in it. Because its ideology is insidious and internalized. So first you need to submit to the fact that you’re going to be fucked up about sex. It sounds like you’re there. Second, you need to interrogate what you believe. If you’re leaving religion behind entirely, you’ll approach removing yourself from purity culture differently than if you still identify as a Christian. It sounds like you might be the latter, which meant, for me, separating what’s actually biblical and what’s shitty, contrived, doctrine that I was told is biblical but is actually more political than spiritual. This helps you address the shame issue.

You need to throw away I Kissed Dating Goodbye and Lady in Waiting and all those ridiculous books you read and reread in the hopes of somehow obtaining impossible marriage perfection and look into actual scripture interpreted within its historical context. I could write a book on this, but the TL;DR is that the text of the Bible was written, translated, curated, and changed multiple times over thousands of years by human beings with human biases and, often, personal and/or political agendas. It contradicts itself! Reading it as it is—a flawed historical document—rather than some sort of God-breathed perfect document—is incredibly freeing. When you do, you’ll probably realize that purity culture is bullshit on a spiritual level. Which is a good start, if that matters to you. Because any time you start to feel shame or guilt you can ask yourself: does God actually care if I wear a bikini or touch a dick I’m not married to? Probably not. Wear the bikini. Touch the dick.

The most important therapy session for me was when my therapist asked what I would do if I got to heaven and God was actually the God I’d been raised to fear. What would I do if he condemned me for being bisexual and having premarital sex and becoming educated, for arguing with men, and failing to isolate while menstruating, and wearing mixed fabrics? If Montero had come out at the point, I probably would have said I’d pole dance down to hell. Instead, I said I would spit on heaven’s gates. If a god that cruel and that pointlessly demeaning really exists—a god who would create in me condemned desire—I won't worship him. The good news is, I’m 99% sure he doesn’t exist. At the very least, he isn’t supported by scripture.

Okay. The final thing you need to do is figure out what you actually want, sexually speaking. This bit is probably the hardest. I’m still in the early stages of this myself. You say: “I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???” Bro, I wish I had an easy answer for you. For me, whenever I’m feeling anxious about Sex Things, I tell myself: 1. My God does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 2. My partner does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 3. I do not equate my worth to my sexual habits. It seems silly, but reminding myself of those three things is massively helpful. If, after I’ve sorted through those, I’m still anxious or uncomfortable, I stop doing the thing. I evaluate. Am I overwhelmed and I need to try again some other time? Do I just not like the thing? Sometimes it’s hard to tell. Sometimes you change your mind. Sometimes you just don’t know. That’s why having a partner who you trust and who’s willing to patiently explore your interests (and respect your disinterests) is so important. Half the battle, for me, was having a partner who told me they’d be ok with no sex at all. Because that took the pressure off me. If the bare minimum they need is nothing, then anything more than that is a bonus! Hooray! This is maybe TMI, but let me tell you. I thought I was asexual* right up until I was able to have moderately non-anxious sex. Never in my life did I think I would initiate a sexual situation but… I do now. It’s a fun thing to do with a person I love and, holy shit. I am furious that I nearly missed out on it.

Finally, re birth control: I don’t know how you can approach that fear in a way that works for you. If you don’t want to ever have penetrative sex, that’s fine! If that’s a point of anxiety you can’t get rid of, then don't push yourself to do it. If you find out you like other sex things, do the other sex things! If you don't like doing any sex things, don't do any sex things! Also, have you considered sleeping with people who can’t get you pregnant? Always an option if it’s an option you want to consider. ;)

Okay. I hope this was even a little bit helpful. Sorry if it’s a little convoluted, I typed it up in bursts during my work breaks.

*This is not at all to say that asexuality can be “fixed." Rather, it’s to say that things like purity culture can drastically confuse your sexuality in general. If you’re asexual, then this process is still important to discover what you like/dislike. Then you can be explicit about those necesities and find a partner who’s a good fit (if you want a partner at all, that is).

[jiminrings]

SINGLE DAD TAEHYUNG! DILF TAEHYUNG! WE NEED MORE DILF TAEHYUNG!!!!!

DA DILF TAEHYUNG AGENDA EXACTLY 👍 can be connected to this drabble!!!

“this feels like a trap.”

namjoon is the first one to say and his candid statement immediately gathers support from the other guys

he says it while he’s laying on the biggest beach towel he’s ever seen in his life, with an ice-cold four seasons-flavored drink in his hand with the little umbrella, rearranging the limited edition cap on his head even if he’s underneath the biggest and coziest beach canopy he’s seen in his lifetime

“this can’t not be a trap,” jimin huffs with a mouthful of watermelon before setting his spoon down on a new plate that he surprisingly didn’t bring home from an aircraft, wiping his mouth as he feels the cool metal of his designer silver cuban chain link bracelet on his chin

“for sure. taehyung pretends like he doesn’t have a single thought nor intention behind those eyes.”

seokjin snickers, reapplying his spray-on sunscreen that’s surprisingly not expired, adjusting his brand-new designer sunglasses on his nosebridge before sipping his margarita and not having to worry about mosquitoes because there’s a zapper in the table nearby

“just makes you wonder what’s going on with him.”

hoseok sighs, eating from a charcuterie board he swears up and down that he still finds overrated (there is truly no sense behind cheese and crackers and raw meat on a wooden board), fetching a towel from his newly gifted luxury duffel bag he decided to bring to the beach

all of this.,..

literally ALL of this,,, every single new piece that they all received from taehyung feels like a trap

like even the concept of taehyung just setting up a beach day for them and even giving gifts out of nOWHERE is very thought-provoking

“i have no ulterior motive!!! can’t i just take out my closest friends in the world?”

tae exclaims, shaking his head to himself

“world!!!”

nabi repeats with the giddiest tone anyone could ever attach to a single world, instantly getting coos from his dad and uncles

crisis averted <3

oh yeah that reminds them ://

the guys need to put world peace on their list!! anything for this cute chunky monkey!!

“sounds disgusting and cheesy but i just want to treat you all since you’ve all been working very hard,” tae tries to explain and he shudders at his sweetness, “also because you’ve been very patient that i haven’t found a job yet!!!”

“we’re also patient with you being a former trustfund baby and therefore forgetting to close the fridges or you know, gagging when we tell you to wash the dishes,” jin nonchalantly adds

“and because you like randomly throwing nabi in the air and give us heart attacks in the process.”

“or falling asleep in the living room couch, even when you have the biggest room in the house, and that means we can’t watch tv because we unfortunately respect your sleep.”

“also because we let you decorate the house in three separate occasions with our money but they each barely lasted a day because you hated it.”

okay okay jEEZ

this is not comedy central omg why is he being roasted!!! in his own trip that he planned and executed quite perfectly!!!

“whew okay alright!! ganging up on me now, huh? thank you, you all just reminded me to teach nabi about the importance in avoiding cliques.”

://

they collectively reacted in offense to tae, speaking over each other, the general theme being “oHHHHH he’s really pulling that now huh???”

“go ahead, tell him that i ate his snacks! i’m sure nabi’s still on my side. right, monkey?” taehyung cockily shakes his head, hand reaching to rub his son’s fluffy hair

???

wait a second

“NABI????”

taehyung shoots out from his chair and hurriedly walks out of the canopy, his four equally-as-panicked best friends darting out in search of the dumpling

he’s two now and he’s more adventurous, especially when it comes to using his quiet tiny little feet to walk by himself

taehyung’s heart is beating so fast but ir becomes even faster when he sees his curious dumpling near the water!!!

as in nEAR the water :O

alright :(( the waves aren’t cooperating :((

they’re pretty tame and as much as you enjoy paddling, you were looking forward this morning to actually surf because you were expecting big waves!! even waxed your surfboard all thoroughly

your wetsuit’s tightly clinging to you and your chest would want to breathe pls and thank you <3 which is why you unzip it in your chest area until you could audibly hear your boobs sigh out loud

you prefer taking off your leash when you’re still in water, as long as it’s shallow just to be sure, because walking in hot sand while chained to your surfboard that’s bigger than life is definitely not ideal

you sit on the part of the sand where the waves crash against and make quick work in removing the leash from your ankle, taking out your hairtie while at it because your hair drying up with saltwater wHILE it’s up </3 a nightmare actually

you’re catching a breather when you hear the pitter-patter of tiny footsteps beside you, an immediate coo leaving your lips

but at the same time it’s pANIC because the cutest child you just saw does not seem to stop walking into the water

“uh-uh! pretty sure you can’t swim yet, nemo.”

you immediately stand up and hold him still by his shoulders, his wide and curious eyes looking up at you

his tiny blue crochet bucket hat is what captures your attention, the character of nemo sewed right in the middle

.... is it bad that you want his bucket hat for yourself

“water!!! :-)”

the toddler points excitedly at what’s beneath his feet, giving you a feeling that he’s such a happy kid

“that’s correct!! it’s water!!!” you coo back at him, “but let’s go back, alright? you can’t swim alone.”

you pick him up because he gives no sign of budging when you try to coax him out of the water by gently pulling on his shoulder

you’re pleasantly surprised when he doesn’t resist you carrying him, in fact, he even holds on to your arms and tilts his head curiously yet with no fear

taehyung has never ran faster in his life actually

within a second, there’s a panting man in front of you, his hands on his knees and ever so often raising his finger to give him a second

alright lol you’re giving him a second

the guy in question finally straightens his posture and you’re positive that you’ve never seen a man that’s this handsome in real life

taehyung’s equally as shocked to see such gorgeousness in front of him????

also his eyes immediately wandered and he pretends to have never seen your cleavage nor your curves in your wetsuit

he did not mean to sTARE!!!! maybe this is just a side effect of his lasik surgery <4

“is he your kid?”

you ask him sincerely, puttting your hand over your eyes as shade to see him better

“yeah, i’m his dad. sorry for troubling you, he’s at that age where he likes walking in stealth and forgets that he’s in a new environment!!!”

he outstretches his hands to take nabi from your arms but he tilts his head when you slightly angle your body farther from him

“are you sure?”

you squint your eyes and there’s an evidently playful and teasing smile on your face

taehyung actually laughs but decides to humor you, his heartbeat finally calming down

“of course!! nabi, smile at the pretty lady for appa, will you?”

nabi, who you made the decision to call nemo on your mind officially starting thirty seconds ago, smiles

he grins so hard and it resembles the boxy smile that his dad is now sporting at the same time, their uncanny resemblance deepening even further

“okay,” you hum contently even if you already believed him from the start, “pretty lady believes that you’re little nemo’s dad.”

well aren’t you a cute one

“that would be marlin, although it sounds pretty ancient.”

the two of you (excluding nabi) are cLUELESS to the mini audience aka tae’s friends who all had mini heart attacks when they didn’t see nabi in their canopy awhile ago

they’re trying to OHHHHHHHH to themselves because wow that is smooth

jimin was about to pat tae’s back but he’s held back because they all forgot that they were not supposed to even be present at this situation

“i’m taehyung, nabi’s dad.”

he holds out his hand — his thick, veiny, muscular-looking hand for you to shake and he doesn’t miss the way you look at it a second longer

“i’m y/n, pretty lady.”

you shake his hand and you don’t miss the way taehyung presses his tongue to his cheek, eyes not-so-smoothly looking at you from top to bottom

his son particularly doesn’t like being excluded which is why he puts his hand on top of the both of yours :-)

“i’m nabi!!!!!!”

[treesandtheirberries]

Dad!Harry talks to his daughter about her questioning sexuality PART 2

part one

(Thank you all for liking the last post, my heart is so full.)

More about the twins, parents' discussions, and a girl's day of insight and vulnerability.

WC: 3.5 k

-----

After tucking June in bed, much to her playful annoyance, Harry made his way to the bedroom where the love of his life was resting. Crossing the hallway, he smiled to himself. There was nothing he loved more than being a trusted father. Having this responsibility lifted him, it guided him to be even better. Just replaying the conversation he had in his head was bringing extra moisture to his eyes. What could he say? He was a natural softie, this (y/n) knew so it was no different with his babies.

Right before making it to his shared bedroom, he instead turned to make his way to the younger ones' room. (y/n) might possibly be crossed with him if she finds out he awoke them just for some kisses, but she didn't have to know.

Shuffling into the room, lit by a nightlight that displayed soft stars on the kids' ceiling, he noticed both of them whispering to one another. Having them share a room was the conscious decision of the parents. Although they had a few rooms to spare, they preferred the twins to sleep together, as they quickly noticed how the two reacted when apart. Oftentimes, they'll find Mick in Mazzy's bed, or vice-versa. It is clear to the parents that the twins are most comfortable with one another, and separating them seemed borderline abusive.

"Hmmm, what're you two on about? Late, innit?" Harry softly spoke, with a smile on his face to clear any seriousness in his words.

"Dadaaaa" Mazzy dragged, smiling that her father was here. She sat up on her bed, making grabby arms as to drag her father further into the room. He was so weak for his babies and quickly made his way to her.

"Mazzy meet friends today. Talk dada," Mick explained in an annoyed tone, which Harry obviously found hilarious. Pardon him for not knowing the basis of their conversations. As he smiled to himself, he wrapped his arm around Mazzy as she further burrowed himself on his side, and he extended his hand to Mick (whose bed was a very short distance away from Mazzy's). "Bedtime dada, momma said sleep" Mick said seriously to his father as he reluctantly grabbed his hand.

Harry and (y/n) could see the personalities of the two strongly already: Mick adopted the role of the carrying older brother despite being born only six minutes before, and Mazzy the clumsy, caring younger sister. The twins upheld their roles quite well, and because of their personalities, they rarely left each others' sides.

"Oh baby, I know she did but I just want some snuggies. Don't kill me, 'kay?" Harry said, pulling his arm so Mick would get the message to hug his father. Despite wanting to seem ever-so mature, loved nothing more than to hug the most important man of his life and finally succumbed to 'snuggies'.

"Mumma said to sleep for school, dada," Mazzy inquisitively said to Harry, looking up at him questioning.

"Yes baby, you two need to start sleeping more, you'll start preschool later this year, and mums' not sure if they do nappy time like in daycare." He rubbed both of their backs in unison as he saw them interlock hands on his stomach. These moments, he thinks, are the exact reason he does what he does. He wants nothing more than to support his babies (all four, actually) and be able to watch them grow. "Just wanted to give you guys some kissies. Kissies please?" He finished by puckering his lips as he looks down at the two.

They giggle and lean up to press soft kisses on his cheeks simultaneously.

"Now what's this about some friends, Mazzy?"

"Yes papa, so nice to me. Mick wants to hear if good friends."

Harry continued to rub their backs, so proud of their bond. "Good job Mick, always taking care of your sister. You know she'll always do the same for you too."

"I know dada, told me Aidan was rude to her. We not friends again." Mick stated, again making his father's chest filled with pride.

"Good, we all know we need to treat our friends nicely but if they are not kind back, we can't let ourselves be their friends. What do we do, babes?"

The kids smiled, playfully annoyed once again yet said together: "treat people with kindness." dragging it out as most kids do with very little seriousness.

"I've gotta go now, let's tuck you both in so momma will never know I was here, 'kay?" He lifted Mick in his arms and carried him the short distance to his bed, while Mazzy tucked her legs back in her blankie. Making sure Mick was cozy, he planted a wet kiss on his forehead.

"Dadaaa" Mick smiled, knowing his father's antics by now.

After placing another kiss on Mazzy's head, he placed a palm on both of the children's bellies. "I love you two so dearly. You guys, June, and your mum are the best things in my life. Rest up so we can have another fun day tomorrow babies."

He finally made his way out of their room, seeing the two burrowings further into their respective blankets with their eyes closed filling his heart. Sneaking his phone out, he snapped a quick picture and sent it to his wife so she could keep a copy of the moment. (although, through this, he effectively ruined the small secret of waking them.) Fuck it, he'll just say this is how he found them.

-----

"She wanted to talk about the Sage situation?" (y/n) guessed, as her beloved crossed the threshold and planted himself face-first on their king bed. All spread out, he moved his back to crack it, due to the stress of every day and ... well, age.

"Said she heard about my sexuality more than yours. Bet you're jealous huh?"

"Please, I know the bond you two have. Is she okay though? You gave her the good ole' 'we'll always be there' parent talk?" (y/n) never doubted his ability to be a father, but these circumstances were a bit more sensitive than other matters. She finally shut her book, placing it on the bedside table that holds Harry and her's current reads. There was no better end to her day than kissing her babies and reading alongside the love of her life.

"She's okay, I think. It's hard for her, obviously. I hate seeing her in pain but this is just one of those things she has to do. As long as she knows we're here, I don't expect it to be too difficult?" He pondered. He did mean it, being a questioning teenager is difficult as is but adding sexuality to the equation? He was fortunate enough to be so self-assured that the concept of questioning himself wasn't that turbulent. "But she wants to hear from you too, obviously. Be prepared to share your life story babe," he giggled, turning his head to see his wife who now began to stroke his hair. God, that really did it when he was tired.

"Yeah, I think I recall her saying this week was slow since she finished exams, so would you agree that we could take a girl's day in light of it all?" She pondered, wanting to assure her daughter in the best, normal way possible.

Harry finally sat up, only to cuddle into his wife's arms. This was another reason he knew the two were soulmates: she loved being the big spoon as much as he liked being held in her arms. "Yes, definitely a good idea. Mhm, what'd I do to have someone as mindful and loving as you? M'life would be incomplete without you, you're everything to me, love." Still feeling as 'lovey-dovey' as ever, he burrowed his head further into her, almost physically absorbing the love she poured out.

"I just want her to feel normal, I guess. When I finally came out, it seemed like it was the only interesting thing about me. It was the only point of conversation for a while, and I don't want June to feel like it's such a hugely different thing. She's still our baby, always will be."

"Hmm, the parenting books have nothing on us. So happy we're a team," he says, grabbing one of her hands to intertwine their fingers. "Gives me a love boner just thinking about how good we are, God."

"Narcissistic asshole. Want a bedtime handie?"

Her words make him shudder, a moan itching to be released. "M'done for with you."

She smiles at his words, knowing that the man in her arms is unlike the general population in that he prefers her hand far over her mouth. Shifting a bit, she kept one arm around his shoulders, to keep him close, and inched the other one to his briefs. They were firm believers in comfortable sleeping, which often lead to sleeping in only undergarments or less. She began to touch him softly through the fabric, already feeling how hard he was. "Oh baby, what's got you all worked up already?" It was a taunting tone, something about their position made it common sense that he'd be more submissive tonight.

"Please, (y/n). Just a quick hand, please." He shifted his hips, trying to get her soft hand to come down harder. Lucky for him, she wasn't in a mood to see him suffer and pressed the heel of her hand more firmly. "You know exactly what that does to me. Please baby, I'll be quiet."

"I know you will, you deserve this, 'kay?" She finally ended the small foreplay and moved her fingers into his briefs. Having been with her for over 15 years, (y/n) knew exactly what got Harry off the quickest. Nothing sold him out faster than a quick, sloppy hand, and her coaxing and appraisal always made him finish embarrassingly fast. Wrapping her hand around his length, she immediately began to jerk him off, wiping his precome to make it smoother. "Such a good daddy to our babies, best father out there I swear."

Her words made him shudder, even more, her touch making him extremely sensitive. Given her arm wrapped around him, he moved his head to the crevice of her neck, feeling shy from her praise. "(y/n), you're going to-" he was interrupted by her thumbing his head again, letting out a breathy moan, "god, make me cum so quick, please."

"It's okay baby, come on now, give it to me." She smirked as she felt him press soft kisses to her neck, almost as a thank you for the fucking phenomenal handie he was receiving.

His breath increased, indicating he was nearing his peak. He began to whimper ever so slightly, wriggling in place and only pushing himself closer to her. "Cumming, god m'cumming." he moaned, finally releasing over her hand.

(y/n) didn't end there though, still dragging her hand to rub his cum down his length and creating a click-ing sound. It was left unsaid that he loved to be overstimulated and milked.

Finally pulling her hand out after Harry begged her it was enough, she got up to grab a hand towel from their en suite restroom. Coming back, she found him with his eyes shut, clearly ready for sleeping.

"Budge up, or this'll get all gross in the morning."

Moving sluggishly, he allowed her to clean. "Come on now, let me do the same to you," he slurred as he flipped on his side, patting the bed.

"No baby, that's alright. Just wanna sleep with 'ya." She smiled at him fondly, noticing his eyes once again shutting in content. The two were almost annoying cuddlers, and they were practically seared together when it came to sleeping.

"Alright, in my arms 'ya go now. Come." He said faintly as she crawled into the space he made for her. Immediately squishing her face in his chest, he wrapped both arms around her back, caging her in and digging his fingers in her loose hair. "Love you," he whispered, although given his face was over her head, it was pretty muffled.

"Love you."

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

"Let's do three more deep breaths, and then we can go see what your mum made for breakfast," Harry indicated, eyes still shut as he sat cross-legged by Mazzy and Mick on the floor, June also sitting on one of the twins' bed.

Before the two parents gave birth to June, Harry insisted that it would be vital to teach their children meditation: a practice that would help them understand and work through their emotions. (y/n) agreed quickly, after hearing many testimonials online of increased mindfulness in small toddlers. Harry tried more often than not to do what he called "Good Morning Heart" exercises before school, but if he was out (y/n) had no problem doing it alone. Today though, the two woke up slightly later than usual and had to split up their duties.

"Okay, good. Keep your eyes closed for now, my bugs. I want you to think about one thing you hope to achieve today. Talk to a new kid maybe, or participate in class. Anything, and take another deep breath as you think of it."

"Dada, done now," Mazzy said, smiling wide at her father. Obviously having meditated her whole life (although they didn't consider it meditation, more so family time) she was used to these exercises and her father leading the group. She didn't know exactly why they did it, but being able to frame your day as positive before it even starts did boost her already positive demeanor.

"Good job baby, so proud of you. Why don't you go run down to see your mama? Not on the stairs though."

"I take her, dada!" Mick excitedly said, unknowingly to others, his positive goal for the day was protecting his 'baby' sister.

Harry smiled, dimples shinning as he saw the two siblings scurry down the hall. "Finished bug?" He asked as June and he were the only two left in the twins' room.

"Yeah, going to ask mom about everything."

"She's ready, and she's so fucking proud of you."

"Thank you, Dad, for everything. I mean it." June leaned over to give him a hug, making her cheek squish against his shoulder. He moved his head over to give her a kiss over her hair, closing his eyes for a second, basking in the life full of love he manifested.

"You didn't hear it from me, but I have an insider report your mum made chocolate pancakes."

-----------

"Come here for your kisses, don't try to weasel out of it," (y/n) laughed, putting her arm over the center console to pucker her lips. Mick was first, giving his mom a kiss on the cheek, dimples resembling his father's. Mazzy followed with obtaining their daily kiss before daycare, both stumbling their way out of the car to meet a teacher that helped them inside. "God they're so precious, as are you," (y/n) said, as she softly pinches June's cheek.

"Mooom," June dragged, now in the 'always embarrassed by parents' teenager phase. "Could we talk about Yesterday? You know, with whatever Dad said?”

“Yes! Actually, before we start would it be cool if we play hooky?” There wasn’t a ‘cooler’ parent between the two as they usually were very lenient, but this definitely bought (y/n) some cool parent points.

“What?! Are you sure? Is Dad okay with it?”

“Of course, he encouraged it really. Just a girl's day for us, can go shopping and eat lunch? Whad’ya think babe?”

“Freak it.” Or for translation, June’s way of saying fuck it.

—————

“Can you maybe … tell me how it worked for you? How you … decided?” June said nervously, still nervous about the topic.

“Yeah, of course, baby. It’s a much longer story than your fathers, but I’ll try to condense it:

“At your age, it’s such a period of confusion, and a lot of times your family can agitate that. From seventh grade to about my senior year of high school, I had what I now call my ‘identity crisis. Really, it was rooted in sexual confusion and overall expression but at the time, it was the most dramatic thing happening since the death of mom.”

The two were sitting in the car, having stopped by a local cafe for coffee before sitting in the mall parking lot. It was an odd place, but comfortable given the two were together. (y/n) and Harry prided themselves off of being an open family and sharing details of their past, but this wasn’t something June had heard of in such detail yet. Because of this, she was extremely absorbed in what her mother was saying.

“It’s really funny to me now, because that’s how I deal with things, I guess. But at the moment, I was-“ (y/n) turned her head to look out the window of the car, needing a small moment before recalling the most difficult time of her life. “It’s ridiculous because I know I should say losing mom was painful, but this whole sexuality thing tore me apart in a different way. It was silent, and it was internal. There was no one I could tell, not until my junior year.

“Anyway, going back to the plotline, yes. I did have a close friend I liked. She is mainly the reason I began to question, that and being a little too obsessed with Stevie Nicks. Sidebar: that was one thing that your father and I initially bonded on.” (y/n) finally lifted her head to see her daughter who stared at her with much adoration. Although she was a mother, this specific conversation still made her extremely insecure due to years of denial from family. She could only hope to raise her kids in a contrasting environment. “It was really hard, and I did become depressed and, well, suicidal frankly. Coming from a background like mine, there isn’t a ‘good’ view on anyone who is gay and that combined with my father's overall conserved nature, I was terrified. Then there was the back-and-forth: am I gay? Am I straight? Am I faking it? Does it matter? And the answer, to the last one at least, is yes it does fucking matter.”

“It made you that sad? Trying to figure it out? Dad says I’ll always be the same girl, why was it such a big deal for grandpa?”

“It was hard on me that I didn’t have someone noticing this pain I was going through. I, unfortunately, did not have someone to tell me that it was okay, and it was normal. God, I felt like such a deviant,” (y/n) laughed in an attempt at raising the mood. “When I finally got around to telling your grandpa, he said that mom mentioned it to him once, before she passed. He claims that she said I was going to be different, and he would have to understand that. Mothers always know. And he did, at least, he tried. It was hard to go from always saying future husband to future partner but he got the hang of it. You’re never too old to change your views and grandpa is the best example of that. He’s also very proud of his son-in-law for being so open about everything including sexuality, says that makes our relationship stronger and is the biggest reason he permitted your Dad to propose.”

"I don't even know what to say, that's kind of insane mom."

(y/n) laughed. The pain of her past has subsided over the years, and it was relieving to be able to recount it. "So insane. What else can I say about this? Two aunts were really rude about it and dad got so angry. It made me cry seeing him fight for me. After that, things just all worked out. It's still a hard topic, it took me forever to tell your dad. I thought he was going to be grossed out," (y/n) laughed again out of remembrance, cheeks warming from embarrassment.

"Mom! How could he, I'm sure he was the same as when you two met but dad would beat himself if he ever hurt you. And, that's really nice to hear about grandpa." June was amused over the change of topic and touched her mom was letting this information out.

"No, no. He's always been so attentive and needy," (y/n) giggled, June joining. "You should ask him about it, he's such a sap but that story especially gets a few tears out of him."

"Oh, definitely will do."

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

After the two had strolled around the mall a bit and found a few new pieces of clothing (what could (y/n) say, she had the tiniest shopping addiction) June opened up the conversation once more.

"So, how long does it take to know know."

"Oh babe, there's no number I can give you that works for everyone. You can't really but a timeline on these things. I will say there are stages, like definitely a questioning period, but you might not spend time experimenting with labels or you will. It's really hard to say. Personally, it was like six-ish years for me?"

They continued to roam the store, June now looking at jeans with embroidered details. "Hm." She looked deep in thought, but not nearly as conflicted as Harry described her to be the night prior. "I'm thinking about it mom, and I might be sure about it."

As (y/n) moved June into her arms into a Styles' classic bear hug, she hummed in joy. "I am so happy to hear that baby. We are so proud of you, and you're still our same baby but you're developing your identity and we're just so proud to be your parents. Please, babe, don't worry about this, we're here always to defend you through anything. Although, half of our friends and family are gay or something too." (y/n) gave her a smirk, both chuckling at the situation. "Now, if we're done here maybe we can stop by your dad's fav strawberry dealer, he sent me a message he was craving some."

June followed her mom out of the store after deciding to buy the jeans, body warming at the thought of having what she considered to be the best parents in the world.

_____________________________________________________

Part two done! kinda obsessed with this storyline now, so let me know what else you want to see from this precious family. ily!

[sladewilsonisanantihero]

The Original Intent of Terra and how Deathstroke got the bad end of the stick for it

Okay, Deathstroke Children (Idk what to call you guys because fellow Deathstrokers would end this conversation immediately), I found the time to do this, so let's get to it!

(Note: My original laptop broke with my comics, so I have no images to spare, so it will be sourced. Another note: Many words will be in bold. Partly so that for those reading will not lose track.)

But if tl;dr:

Cold Hard Truth: Everyone from Terra fans to Deathstroke fans needs to stop seeing these characters as real people.

Original Terra wasn't human trafficked or whatever sob story people want to label her with. The CREATORS intended her to be written as Evil without the mental illness and to die for the shock value. They had Raven, The Literal Empath, spell this out in Judas Contract. As for Deathstroke's involvement, he was shoved into her creation story, and Marv Wolfman himself recognized his mistake in doing that.

And for those calling Deathstroke a nazi, Original Terra had nazi-like beliefs where common people should fear and serve them or be killed off just because they're 'special'. Again, BLUNTLY stated in the Judas Contract. So if you're going to call Deathstroke a Pedophile, we'll call OG Terra a Neo-Nazi. (But I highly advice for Deathstroke Fans to not start that kind of war, but I had to say what I had to say.)

Don't get me wrong. (Hopefully all) Deathstroke fans know that their relationship was wrong just like Marv Wolfman, and we do not support pedophiles! But Slade isn't a pedophile! He was never intended to be written as one! It was a mistake made on many levels and should be rewritten like OG Terra's Evil Neo-Nazi-like personality, instead of being thrown into cancel culture.

Also for Deathstroke fans, don't get upset over their content and begin any argument emotionally. Just enjoy whatever good content we can get and support it if you can. Hopefully we'll get our Deathstroke movies and so on!

So I've briefly chatted with one of you over the matter with Terra/Tara Markov and how upsetting it is about how people refer to Slade Wilson as a Pedophile. That is a serious accusation that would make it very uncomfortable to argue about since it can easily make it seem like we justify the actions of pedophiles, and that we are part of pedophile culture that does exist in social media space.

AND WE SHOULDN'T, AND FOR ANTIS READING THIS WE WON'T.

But there was a time when I used to have a blog called friendlyremindersofsladewilson, where I defended Slade and put the blame all on Terra. I was 14 at the time, and looking back at it, I am not proud of it because I realized now as an adult how I defended it for most of the wrong reasons, but still stand with the fact that SLADE IS NOT A PEDOPHILE.

And since this took place when I was so young, it compelled me to write this post because I fear some of you are really young, too, and may end up in this regretful position.

So to make it clear, what Slade had been written to do is a crime, and we should acknowledge it, but not in the way as if it was a crime acted out in real life.

What I mean by that is that there's a clear separation between fiction and reality where one isn't real (Duh!). In this case, it's about the mistakes made between fiction and reality. In reality, mistakes made by the person responsible is on the person. In fiction, mistakes made is dependent on the creator's intent, and sometimes the creators can make mistakes themselves.

Most notably Terra's:

Tara Markov/Terra was created by Marv Wolfman and George Perez.

In Marv Wolfman's literal website, he stated in his online "What the-?" column:

"Which leads to Terra. That was easy. George and I wanted a Titan who betrayed the others. we also wanted to play against every reader conception of who characters are. George and I knew her whole story before we began and we knew she would die. We set the story up with her trying to destroy the Statue of Liberty to show she was the bad girl, but we knew if George drew her as a cute kid everyone would simply assume she would be ‘turned’ from the dark side because that’s the way it was always done which is why that wouldn’t be the way we did it. Tara was insane an stayed that way right until the moment she died. By the way, she IS dead. I don’t know what other writers will do with her – if anything – but if they want to honor the original series they will leave her dead. The Terra from Team Titans was – as stated – some kid the villain kidnapped and physically and mentally altered her into looking and acting like the original. But she was NEVER the real Terra."

And it should also be noted that he stated before this statement that:

"...Only mistake I think I made with him is having him have a physical relationship with the 16 year old Tara Markov. That was wrong."

So Marv Wolfman himself recognizes that what he did was a mistake, but his intent on Terra was never to write a victim.

And quick note: Insanity isn't written as a mental illness here. It's written like how many villains are labeled as insane for having skewed beliefs that deviates from the common good.

Terra truly had some nazi-like beliefs where she BELIEVED that everyone who wasn't 'special' like her and the Teen Titans deserved to be treated like shit because they weren't 'special' like them. She bluntly said it herself in the Judas Contract.

As for George Perez's comment in an interview I found in this website:

"GEORGE: Tara was just a cute little girl, although I based a little bit of that on my wife Carol’s sister, Barbara. A little upturned nose… Barbara does not have the teeth that Tara had. I wanted Tara to be a girl who looked normal. Which also means her death caught everyone even more offguard.

Tara, she was made to be killed; she served her purpose. That was it.

ANDY: You didn ‘t get any attachment to Tara?

GEORGE: No, because I knew we were going to kill her. So I deliberately used all the things to make her as likeable and cute as possible, so people would never believe we were going to kill a sixteen-year-old. And she was a sixteen-year-old sociopath. She was one of our cleverest gimmicks; we deliberately created her in order to lead everyone astray. So we couldn’t build any fondness for her, ’cause we knew full well what her whole motive for existence was. Her existence was basically to keep the stories interesting; we were tossing a curve that no one would have expected.

ANDY: You didn ‘t even love to hate her, huh?

GEORGE: No. I loved handling her, because she was such a good idea. But she was an idea. Not as much a person. She was there to show exactly how much their humanity can be one thing they have to be careful about, the Teen Titans have to be careful about. . . they can be too trusting, or their own weaknesses can be used against them."

Terra was supposed to be a representation of An Evil Betrayal of Trust and That Not All Cute Girls Are Good.

But they took it too far by making her sleep with Deathstroke because they wanted to truly make her look evil by literally sleeping with the enemy. Y'know because this was the 80s, and women having sex was an evil act back then, and that point of view has somewhat or barely improved 40 years later.

Deathstroke was just shoved into this idea, and Marv tried and perhaps failed at trying to undo this mistake with his talk with Beastboy (Tales of the Teen Titans issue #55) and before his confrontation from Wintergreen (Deathstroke (1991); Chapter 35).

So just as I had stated at the top in the tl;dr, it was a mistake made on many levels and should have been rewritten out just as many had done with OG Terra's true personality, and be done with it.

Random person: "He still slept with a 16-year-old."

And it's not that hard to make other heroes and villains do this mistake. Because again, it's all fiction. Deathstroke's fictional. As in Not Real, so we could literally undo the damage by rewriting this mistake. Or make it worse by making Terra the rapist by her using her Earth powers to bind Slade down and force him, and you can't deny that it's plausible. Because she's fictional. Anything can happen. So why didn't Slade tell Beastboy whether he slept with her or not, maybe it was because he really didn't want to but he was forced into it. And that's just something you can't dump on a very emotional man who was trying to kill you a moment ago.

ALL THE POSSIBILITIES BECAUSE IT'S FICITIONAL!

But ANYWAY, I went way too dark there.

Ending on a brighter note: Personally to all Deathstroke fans, please value your mental health, please don't start any arguments that'll compromise it, and continue supporting Deathstroke in whatever way you can!

[kuekyuuq]

At this point, I see things regarding Supercorp this way...

(Mxaybe... in another universe... *sighs*)

My head-canon for the show:

Lena had a crush on Kara since day one and vice versa. She tried to deny it, deny herself the ‘luxury’ of personal attachment... but Kara was quite persistent, and cute, and sweet, and warm, and such a dork, and... yeah... Lena got confused when she developed similar feelings for Supergirl, and then her disagreements with Supergirl caused her to not-like her anymore, but still felt physically attracted to her - damnit. Since oblivious Kara did not respond properly to her flirts (and they both verbally friend-zoned each other), Lena resigned to gaze and long for her in secret, thinking Kara was straight. Neither her short and tragic re-encounter with Jack - an unresolved comfort from her own past - nor her sudden enemies-to-lovers thing with James (Kara's ex of all people) could quite quench her craving for Kara's closeness and warmth or her verbal tension-filled jab-throwing matches with Supergirl. After the reveal, Lena was more hurt over her 'friend' betraying her trust, keeping a secret from her (yes, that's a double-standard, Lena! ...girl's got deeply rooted issues) than 'Supergirl' using her alter-ego to take advantage of Lena (which, hands down, Kara actually did on some occasions - so, ironically that one would have been objectively valid, but, hey, feelz shape our perspectives). She went through her lashing-out phase, only to realize she can't live without Kara in her life. And really wants to do good. Yes, that too... ...and it only took her trying to brainwash the whole world (good intentions and the road to hell) and Lex back-stabbing her a couple of times, to see the light and join the good guys for good... to be more like Supergirl, in her own small way...? Y'all know what I mean ^_- She came crawling back, continues to try hard to prove herself worthy, longingly watching on every time Kara and Alex hug, desperate to keep her sunshine-impersonated in her life, whom she truly loves, despite how much she tried to convince herself she did not...

...

Meantime, Kara is an alien (yes, I bold that, bc, people tend to not think this through). From a totally different culture and all, having suffered great trauma and entering Earth's culture during her puberty/informative years. A Kryptonian who crushed for Humans (males - James, Adam - and apparently 4 other dudes she broke the noses of when kissing) and other aliens (Daxamite Mon-El) ...uh, and even couldn't stop herself admitting how she likes how nice Lucy (female Human) smells (the most prominent other time such a statement was made, was when everybody was swooning over Kal). Who only in her adulthood realized homosexuality was even a real option, outside of high-schoolers slurring at each other. (And I am not saying, Kara is gay, as in lesbian... she incidentally spoke true when she denied that in the pilot. Repeat after me: “Kara is an alien.” ..I’d call her pan, but am also aware, that the textbook definition doesn’t include ‘all species’... so.... there’s that.) Kara, who so desperately hard tried to fit in, she got absolutely used to others telling her what she's supposed to feel and think.

...who crushed hard for Lena at first sight (possibly, also star-struck). But both Clark and Alex, her most important people to look for help, guidance and reference, told her any Luthor was bad news.

There was Mon-El, whom she didn't even like, at first. When he lied told her he wasn't in love with her, she was utterly relieved. She was all “Oh, golly. That’s unexpected and awkward. What now?!” when he confessed to her, and tried (and failed) to let him down gently. (I am actually convinced, that Kara was more ego-hurt, that he moved on to Eve so quickly, and.. where she and James ended things once Lucy was out of the picture, Kara only started thinking/feeling differently about Mon-El when he was taken... just sayin’ I maybe spot a pattern there.) But, Alex told her, that she had a thing for Mon-El and that she should give him a shot... ...even when Lena got involved with Cadmus, and Kara found herself passionately defending the youngest Luthor against ALL her friends, when she could not explain her bone-deep trust in Lena but by "I can see it in her eyes" and other instinctually tainted expressions... Well, she and Mon-El made it work, they were actually a sweet couple when they weren't butting heads... Didn't stop Kara from having mixed feelings when Lena ran into her ex. And yes, Kara did mourn Mon-El. If only for the concept of what they had together, but I do think, she did feel love for him... Me thinks, Kara would be one of the people who simply can not separate physical and emotional. So by kissing and sleeping with him, stronger emotional attachments came to be. Not to invalidate them, but... personal history is important.

....long story short, Kara kept trying not to stand out. Lived and loved on the safe-side, hurt one too many times by circumstance. And yet kept feeling drawn to Lena, kept trusting her, kept wanting to reveal herself to her - despite what everybody else said. But, emotionally and 'culturally' on the safe side.

Kara friend-zoned herself.

The reveal happened and... Lena HURT her and Kara STILL kept her hope and trust up... and while towards the end of it, being incredibly hurt and worn out, she still let Lena back in. And within 24h decided that Lena came through enough times and Kara was ready to accept her apology...

And then Lex happend (again) and Phantom Zone...

Now...

[*] My head-canon for RL:

Katie is such a natural flirt, that even though the SG writers (after introducing both Lena and Mon-El to the show) have been told "no gay Supergirl" by the CW in 2017, Melissa just never knows what hit her...

Director: "CUUUT!" Melissa: "--...wait, what? I'm married. I mean... huh?" Melissa: "Wait! We have to redo that! We were told, not to-" Katie: "To what?" Melissa: "...uh, the Supercorp-thing... you know... the heart-eyes?" Katie: "What heart-eyes?" *raises an eyebrow the typical Katie-way* Melissa: "...the... um.... you..." Katie: "Wait, did you-..?" Melissa: "Me!? Oh, no. I am married!" Katie: "What has that to do-... Are you okay?" Melissa: "Yes!" Katie: "Okay, then." *Katie swaggers off stage & hi5s one of the writers on her way out* Melissa: "...darn it." *calls Chris* "Honey, I love you." Chris: "...it happened again?" Melissa: "..." *Chris starts laughing* Melissa: "...so not funny."

So, yeah, that's where I am at. Kara friend-zoned herself and Lena is totally mush for the Girl of Steel. ...and Katie is just being Katie :)

Also, I am currently 99% sure Supercorp will not be endgame. But I would be 100% pleased to be proven wrong.

[* In all seriousness, do not bash on the actors, please. They are just doing their jobs, have a life and family, real relationships and feelings. So, my above 're-enactment' is completely fictional, purely for light-hearted entertainment and not meant to do any harm or spread any hate or to be actually transcribed onto the actual, real people. We do not really know these people! They - and the writers, too - do bring characters to life that we invest in - for that they deserve our gratitude. My gut feeling (or shipper-heart feeling?) is, they are doing their best to sneak Supercorp in whenever they can - not to bait, but because they may actually not be allowed (yet..?) to make SC text but see the same chemistry we do. Have fun, but be respectful, please! We can disagree with the CW's executive decisions - although, we do not really know what’s going on bts - and express our dismay, but do not in all seriousness spread hate.]

[losille2000]

The Swan, Chapter 6

TITLE: The Swan CHAPTER NUMBER: 6/? AUTHOR: Losille2000 WHICH Tom/CHARACTER: Actor!Tom GENRE: Romance/Drama FIC SUMMARY: Sequel to The Ugly Duckling. Astrid embarks on a two-week trip to London to serve as her sister’s maid of honor, hoping against all hope she might miraculously run into her Hawaiian mystery man. When her sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law drag her to a production of Hamlet to meet the groom’s best man, Astrid gets the shock of her life. The situation, though, is anything but perfect. RATING: M (sex, language) WARNINGS: None in this chapter. AUTHORS NOTES: So... what can I say? It's been a while. If you want the whole story, you can look through my blog or message me. I'm happy to answer. That said, it's been a good three years since I did any serious writing. My writing muscles need to build back up to what they were before. Please be kind... and let me know what you think. :D

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - ALSO ON AO3!

Chapter 6 - Flying the Coop

Regret.

Astrid regretted ever stomping up those stairs to Tom’s bedroom. She regretted challenging him to make a move. She regretted letting him have his way with her. In the moment, it seemed right. Maybe if they slept together again, they’d find an incompatibility, especially now that the air of tropical mystery had dissipated and left in its place two broken flesh-and-blood people.

How wrong could she have been?

Now it was amplified, deeper, hotter, engulfing.

Only two weeks for whatever this fire was to fizzle?

It wasn’t, as the Brits say, bloody likely.

And here she was, smack dab in the position she didn’t want to be in; no matter how tangentially her current association with her mother, the family business, and Hollywood was, being connected to Tom in this way presented too many problems to even consider at this point. And fucking him—

“Astrid, are you even listening to me?”

Astrid jumped from the intrusion, letting out a slight squeak. She blinked hard and turned in her spot to look at her sister, who stood in the middle of the furnished but unoccupied flat. “Sorry?”

“Are you okay?” Tilde asked. “You’ve been spacey after the dress shop— and I’m just worried.”

“You don’t need to worry.”

“Let me worry,” she begged. “Let me be the big sister I never got to be.”

Astrid laughed ruefully. If only she could actually talk with Tilde about Tom. She wouldn’t understand, or at the very least, it could pose some very difficult situations in the coming days with the wedding right around the corner. But, Astrid guessed, Tilde meant the other elephant in the room... Astrid being the elephant, and their mother being a Class A narcissist. Because there was absolutely no way Tilde would know about what had happened at Tom’s home...

“It’s too late for that, Tilde,” Astrid said. “You know I love you. I just— there’s no changing her.”

Tilde grumbled and glided over to the couch in the living room. She dropped down on top of the cushions, barely displacing the pillow stuffing with her slight ballet-formed frame. “I should have never allowed her to do all this. I should have done it on my own, it’s not like Jim and I are so hard up. But I thought...”

Astrid held up a hand to stop her sister and sat on the couch more gingerly than Tilde, measuredly, so as not to displace any stuffing in the overstuffed couch, either. Something her mother had taught her, after all: If you’re not going to put in effort to look like a lady, you can at least act like one.

God, even that memory still hurt, down to the marrow in her bones.

“But you did.” Astrid shrugged and laid her head on the back of the couch. There, she sighed.

The sisters sat in silence for some time, listening to Duchess rooting around the flat for something to chew on. When the pug found nothing, she eventually jumped up onto the couch and snuggled into Tilde’s lap.

Astrid cleared her throat. “It’s not all Mom, either. I’m just tired from jet lag and getting everything together for the house party.”

And sleeping with the Best Man. She was pretty sure she’d read a romance novel or a hundred about this situation once. Did that make her a cliché?

“Oh, I meant to ask,” Tilde interjected. “How did that go? Tom was a total tool last night and I was worried about today.”

Astrid licked her lips subconsciously; she could still taste the sugar left by a bite of tiramisu Tom had given to her on a fork. If she concentrated hard enough, she was sure she could still taste the salt of his skin mixed in with it. She could certainly feel the tight muscle in her thigh that pulled every time she shifted, from the way he’d bent it and held it firmly in place as he’d had his way with her.

Frankly, it was a miracle they’d accomplished anything after they ended up in bed. But, she supposed, that was the weirdest part about the whole afternoon. They got out of bed, dressed without speaking and just... worked on what they needed to for the party. There was no discussion. No arguing. Tom stayed a respectable distance from her; she wasn’t sure if she had really wanted him to do it again, over and over, until they were both exhausted. They ate lunch quietly, they got everything organized and packed into his Land Rover, then Tilde showed up and they bade farewell, like it was something they did every day.

Nothing more was said about Hawaii, or a relationship, or lies, or having this end in two weeks. He seemed to be ignoring the topics all together, likely in the misguided belief that if he didn’t bring it up, then everything was fine. She ignored them because discussing WHY she refused to become a true part of his life was too painful.

Astrid pursed her lips and closed her eyes again. Isn’t that what she told him she wanted, though? To feel worshipped and then go about their lives, like nothing happened? Ignore all the elephants and enjoy the sex. No emotion, only sex. He was just following her demands, his need too great to put the brakes on their interlude in his bed.

The problem was that she did want more with him. She wanted emotion and relationships and rainbows and butterflies. When she had thought of him as some wealthy businessman she might once again bump into while visiting London, this had been possible. She had, after all, imagined a reality over the last eighteen months that included falling in love with him and living a life together.

But he wasn’t a businessman. He was an actor. He ran in circles she just couldn’t stomach anymore.

“It was fine. We finished everything and packed it all into his Land Rover for the drive up to Cliveden,” Astrid finally said. “The costume deliveries will be there when we arrive.”

“This really has gotten out of control,” Tilde said. “Part of me just wants to run to the register office and get it over with.”

Astrid shook her head violently. “You do that, and I’ll flip the fuck out. I put too much work into this.”

Tilde laughed. “Scared you, huh?”

“I’m serious, Tilde,” Astrid said, lightly smacking her sister’s thigh. Duchess popped her head up, and thinking it was an invitation for her, came over to her aunt. Astrid cuddled the dog close to her chest, breathing in her freshly bathed fur.

“She likes you,” Tilde said.

Astrid kissed Duchess’ head. “Small children and dogs, apparently.”

Tilde chuckled softly before letting out a long sigh. “I bet she would really like it if her Aunt Astrid were around more.”

“Aunt Astrid is a teacher and never has any time,” she replied directly to Duchess. Duchess reached for the hand that had stopped petting her and touched it with her paw. Her imploring buggy pug eyes asked Aunt Astrid for more.

Tilde huffed, but said nothing more for a long time. Then she cleared her throat. “How do you like the flat, anyway?”

“It’s nice,” Astrid confirmed. In fact, it was nicer than “nice.” This flat looked like one of those staged ads in a real estate magazine with lots of recessed lighting, soft gray colors, top-of-the-line furnishings and a ton of space.

“We’re trying to decide if we’ll sell it or keep it as an investment property,” Tilde replied. “It’s kind of a pain in the ass as a rental property, though.”

Astrid nodded. “You could just give it to Dad’s company to manage.”

Not that doing so was a great option, either.

If Astrid saw her mother irregularly, she saw her father even less. After their separation, he spent time in Las Vegas developing a new casino concept and then, when Astrid graduated from UNLV, moved his business operations permanently back to Sweden. Still, though, the relationship with her father was better than it was with her mother, simply by virtue that he was never around and didn’t have an opportunity to find the weaknesses in her armor like her mother. Tilde rarely spoke about either parent, but Astrid was certain their relationship was similar.

Tilde sat up and turned to look at Astrid seriously. “Or you could move into it.”

“Excuse me?” Astrid said, her heart skipping a few beats, from a sudden surge of anxiety and... something else.

“I’m serious, Astrid,” she said. “We don’t see each other enough and I want to spend time with you and make up for all those years we were apart.”

This wasn’t just some passing fancy. Astrid could see that as plain as day on Tilde’s face. Her sister was determined to convince her to move to London. But for what? She had no support system other than Tilde and James... and her career... well, that was back in Las Vegas.

Not that Las Vegas itself was the most amazing place to live and work.

“I’d never see you anyway,” Astrid argued. “You’re always rehearsing, or preparing to rehearse, or performing. And god knows James is going to be busy doing whatever.”

“Yeah, about that...” Tilde said, trailing off quietly. She picked at the dog hair on her sweater for a few seconds, then slowly looked back at Astrid. “I’m retiring at the end of this season.”

“What?!”

Tilde shrugged. “James and I want a family, and if I wait until it’s a ‘good time,’ it’ll never happen because of our schedules. And really, it’s getting harder and harder to come back from injuries and such. I just... I need a long break from being a performing ballerina. I don’t have the fire I once had, the same will to fight for every goddamn role.”

Astrid simply nodded. This was huge news. Ballet was Tilde’s life. She’d been doing it since she was a little girl, had impeccable skill and training and talent for it. The joke was that Tilde had come out of the womb in pointe shoes.

Which wasn’t that far from the truth, really. As soon as their mother could, she’d gotten Tilde into dance with the best instructors money could buy. Their mother, the failed ballerina, always lived through them. Which explained why she did not like anything about Astrid— Astrid did not have anything that would benefit her.

“Have you told Mom yet?” Astrid asked.

Tilde shook her head. “Of course not! And listen to her prattle on about how I’m a failure and she gave me so much and I’m just a terrible person? No, thank you. I’ll wait until she is permanently back in LA before I tell her.”

Even though Tilde had not yet told anyone else, it somehow eased the tension in Astrid’s shoulders knowing that Tilde would be in their mother’s crosshairs for a change. Typically, that wasn’t the case; their parents always treated Tilde like the perfect golden child. Of course, Tilde had always been one of Astrid’s fiercest allies… when she could. However, since Tilde spent most of her life in London studying at the Royal Ballet from a very early age, support and camaraderie had been scarce. Now, though? Now it felt like she and Tilde could weather the storm together.

Tilde continued, “Yeah. I’m thinking about opening up a dance studio and then after the baby thing happens, if I still have the performing bug in me, then I’ll start guesting. But I’m just so excited to start having babies.”

Stopping the smile from forming on Astrid’s lips was impossible as she registered the excitement on Tilde’s face. Astrid felt the enthusiasm coming from Tilde’s corner of the couch. “I’m excited for you, Tilde.”

And she was. She truly was.

Tilde reached out and grabbed Astrid’s hand. “I’m serious, though, Astrid. We never had a great family growing up, and I see this as an opportunity to right the wrongs of the past and create the family we should have had growing up.”

“I don’t know, Til.”

“James and I have both talked about it a lot and we both agree.”

“Tilde, even if I did move here,” Astrid began, “I don’t know the first thing about teaching in England.”

Tilde nodded. “I know. But James’ parents are retired teachers. I’m sure they’d be willing to help you make heads or tails of it.”

Astrid pursed her lips and turned to stare at the dormant fireplace sitting in front of them. Duchess, who had not moved, made happy dog purr noises as Astrid massaged the tiny velvet triangles of her ears. To be fair to Tilde, Astrid had often thought of moving to London to be nearer to her, but she never thought it would happen or that Tilde would actually need or want her here. The fact that she was wanted made emotion spring to her eyes and prick at them until they watered.

But then, there was the other issue.

The really, super, ginormous issue that came in the shape of a devastatingly handsome British man she met on vacation. If she moved to London, she’d certainly be seeing him more. No clean break at the end of two weeks like she hoped.

“And, you know,” Tilde said, “London’s arts scene is stupendous. We have the hook-up. I thought you could get back into it. You can hardly do that in Las Vegas.”

Astrid snorted. “Tilde, that part of my life is over.”

“Why? You’re amazing. I remember the video you sent of your college production of Othello. There wasn’t a dry eye in the place.”

While Tilde’s appreciation for her talent warmed Astrid’s heart, it didn’t take away the sting of her mother’s actions. Astrid couldn’t even bring herself to discuss it with Tilde when it first happened, much less in the intervening eight years since the incidents that led to her total disavowal of all things acting related. Her silence on the matter, though, had finally come home to roost. First with Tilde telling Tom she was still an actor, and Tom calling her a liar because she told him she wanted nothing to do with it. And now, with Tilde staring her down imploringly. Tilde wanted answers just as much as Tom did, except for very different reasons.

Astrid could not force her suddenly leaden tongue to move in her mouth. Tilde would just have to live with not knowing the whole story, for now. Finally, she said, “If I move to London, I’m not going to be acting.”

“Well, I guess I’ll take that,” Tilde replied. “As long as you’ll still consider moving here to be with me.”

A knock at the front door startled them all, sending Duchess barking and wheezing to the door. The door opened and James popped his head inside. “Knock knock.”

“Come in!” Tilde sang back to him, jumped from her seat, and nearly leaped over the back of the couch to get to him like he was a cold glass of lemonade on a hot day. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him squarely. For a brief, possibly irrational, moment, Astrid was jealous of her sister and the relationship she had built with James.

Which wasn’t a great feeling to have if the plan was to spend more time with them. How could she uproot her entire life— leave her students and friends— and move halfway across the globe just to be consumed by the green-eyed monster?

“Babe,” Tilde said, “tell Astrid she needs to move to London.”

James laughed and turned to look at Astrid. “Astrid… you need to move to London.”

“Thank you!” Tilde pecked his cheek and pirouetted in place until she was facing away from him. She started walking back toward the bedroom. “Let me go get my purse and we can get going.”

When Tilde was gone, and the flat was mostly silent except for more of Duchess’ puggy wheezing as she calmed, James’ smile dropped into a stony seriousness. He stepped over to her and quietly murmured, “We would love to have you here, Astrid. But I understand if you don’t want to come. The decision has to be yours, and if you decide not to move, I will handle Tilde.”

Astrid was grateful for James’ level-headedness in the situation. In the short time she’d known the man, she found that he was a gifted reader of rooms. That was why he was so good with Tilde— a steady anchor in a turbulent sea. Clearly, he understood the anxiety twisting her stomach into knots.

She set a grateful hand on his arm and squeezed appreciatively. “Thanks, James.”

“And don’t let my association with Tom cloud your judgement,” James said.

Astrid withdrew her hand like he’d burned it. Her eyes snapped up to his, then focused outward on the rest of his features and body language. She didn’t know how he knew, but he did. Tom must have told James, despite that she asked him not to.

Unless Tom had told James last night…

“How do you...” She trailed off, turning her gaze and trying to hide her blush.

“He’s my best man for a reason. We tell each other everything,” James replied. “I had hoped that your work today would allow you some time to figure things out before more of this wedding commenced and caused a problem.”

Astrid gulped. “Does Tilde know?”

James shook his head silently.

“Good,” Astrid replied. Good for two reasons, really. The first, because it confirmed for her that the invitation to come to London wasn’t Tilde playing matchmaker. The second, because she still didn’t want anybody to know about it. “Wait… how much did he tell you?”

James stared back at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes and a slight curl at the corner of his mouth. “That would be breaking the Code.”

Her face now completely aflame, Astrid bent down and grabbed Duchess into her arms. She couldn’t even look at the man anymore without feeling embarrassed. Hopefully, it would pass quickly.

“Bad news!” Tilde called from the hallway as she came back into the room. Her thumbs moved rapidly over the screen of her iPhone. “Mother decided we needed an all hands on deck dinner tonight.”

Astrid groaned. “In addition to or replacing the one tomorrow night at Cliveden?”

“In addition to,” Tilde said. “Tom can’t make it tonight because he has the cast party, and Dad isn’t even in England yet, so that’ll be the official one. Tonight is probably just more nitpicking.”

“Do we have to?” Astrid whined.

Tilde sighed heavily and dropped her phone into her purse with agitation. “Strength in numbers, dear sister.”

Her sister's proclamation made the summons to dinner no better, but Astrid and James dutifully followed Tilde out of the flat and out to the car. The only saving grace was that Tom wouldn't be there. Astrid could focus on one problem, not two.

[johnkrrasinski]

Into It;

full masterlist

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 1,485

Warning: SMUT. sexy times, cuss words, fluff. 

Summary: a casual sunday afternoon spent with your favorite super soldier who just couldn’t resist you no matter how hard he tries. 

a/n: another sexy bucky fanfic that i thought about whilst trying to take a nap on a sunday afternoon. please leave a like & comment. enjoy!

The midafternoon sun permeated through the drawn curtains of your room in the Avenger’s compound on another archetypal Sunday. It was a day where everyone in the team could just sleep in until noon, lounge around in the common and do their own thing without care.

Well, not too careless though, since you were still The Avengers after all, and the world doesn’t believe in the concept of ‘weekends are days off’ when miscreants have made up their minds about committing their evil plan and living in a building designed to keep all the on-watch heroes together so they’d be ready whenever the alarm of emergency goes off, you constantly had to sleep with one eye open at night.

Even if when you were simply taking forty winks.

But not today. Today, you only left the coziness of your bed to shower, eat some breakfast and fetch a few snacks and occasionally used the loo. The rest was spent with you cuddled up with Bucky in nothing but your underwear separating your skin from each other. Bucky would regularly go for his early morning run but not on Sundays. Sundays were for him and you. And he wasn’t going to waste a goddamn second with you when the chaos strikes once more tomorrow. Sundays were too precious.

You had been watching sitcoms all day that you hadn’t had the chance to finish it due to incessant missions and paperwork. The superhero life doesn’t exactly reward you a protracted repose despite the number of lives you had saved. So when you were granted the opportunity to watch Brooklyn 99 with the love of your life who was just as fatigued as you were, you were going to savour every second of it.

Things were going languid up until you turned on another side as Bucky spooned you from behind. Bucky’s hunger for you wouldn't allow him to stay still for a second without him getting an erection. What can you say? He just really had a thing for your ass. When your eyes were fixated on the screen, Bucky began peppering your neck and your shoulder with kisses.

Since you were only clad in nothing but your underwear, it didn’t make it difficult for him to graze his fingers along your waistline to your hip, and then he moved his hand to between your thighs as you part them slightly to permit him more access to your most sensitive part.

He inserted his fingers into your panties as he collected the wetness that was already gathering there since the moment he pressed his lips to your neck. You threw your head back to his shoulder as he carried on his pampers on your neck to your shoulder. He motioned his fingers in a circle on your clit, causing your head to spin. His touch always left you breathless and you always ended up craving for more.

“Oh, Bucky…” You bit your lip.

“So wet for me, baby.”

His motion grew hastier to get you off as he sensed your impending climax. You shut your eyes trying to relish the pleasure as you moaned for his name. You were so damn close and with a few more circles, you crumbled. Your release soaked your cotton underwear along with Bucky’s fingers that were still on your clit until you were thoroughly spent.  

He retrieved his hand out of your panties and sucked on his fingers that you made a mess off. He tasted you as if he was licking his favourite sweetened cocoa spread sticking on them. You were still panting when you felt him pulling down your underwear and threw them onto the floor. You were still lying on your side when you felt the nudge of his head on your entrance as he quickly penetrated you.

It knocked the breath off your lungs when he was fully seated. His grip on your hip was riveted as he stayed still to let you adjust to his girth inside you. When you ground your arse against him, he instantly got the clue that you wanted him to move. He then complied, fulfilling your desire as he began rutting his into you steadily. He took his time, pleasuring you at a settled pace. It wasn’t lust-driven or a poignant need, it was simply you and him, making love on a dawdling day off; there’s no rush, there’s no agony, it was just you and him exploring each other’s body.

You turned your head to the side to gaze at his handsome face. The short strands of his hair and the neat stubble covering his entire jaw made him look more dashing under the faint afternoon glow. You were always so charmed by Bucky’s looks even before he cut his hair and trimmed his beard. You were allured by his gentle demeanour and his mysterious haze.

It wasn’t long until you felt your second release coming. Bucky accelerated his tempo as you felt the tightening coil in your belly. With only a few more thrusts and the bubble inside you erupted. It was more intense than the previous one and you were drowned in bliss. Bucky extended his thrusts, prolonging your orgasm until he reached his own.

He growled as he was lost in his own euphoria. He rested his head on the side of yours as he held you close in the same position whilst still being inside you until every drop of his cum was stored. He’d never admit it out loud but he loved it when he released deep inside you. He loved the sight of a part of him dripping on your thighs.

You turned your head once more to look at him as he kissed you deeply, the fervour on his lips was palpable. Your tongues tangled with each other’s as his hand that was grappling to your hip moved to your jaw to guide your mouth to have more control over it. You kept devouring each other until you were running out of air.

Bucky’s breath felt like a breeze on your face as he lovingly gazed into your striking eyes, as he once declared. For a moment there, there wasn’t a single word exchanged, it was simply the abounding love that you had for each other and it was more than any word could express.

“You never fail to amaze me, doll.”

You bit your lip at his praise. “I could say the same, soldier.”

“Think we should go back to the show. Captain Holt’s going to start with his boring facts again.” He withdrew himself away from you and laid back on his side of the bed. His eyes were now on the screen presenting Jake Peralta’s comical personality that contrasted with Captain Holt’s deadpan face. It always elicited a chuckle from Bucky.

You sat up and budged to Bucky’s hip, making yourself a comfortable seat. “…or we can go back to our own festive. It’s a lot more fun than listening to Captain Holt’s boring facts.” You repeated his words to playfully tease him while also trying to seduce him.

“Hmm… I don’t know, I kinda like Captain Holt’s boring facts and it’s interesting to hear him talk about the population rate of Philadelphia.”

“Oh really? So it’s more interesting than this, huh?” You climbed down his body to lay on your front between his legs and you began stroking his shaft then proceeded to swirling your tongue around it like a goddamn chocolate chip ice cream on a sizzling summer day. You loved the look on his face when he lost himself in pleasure. The pleasure that you bestowed on him.

“Fuck yeah, baby, just like that.” You kept sucking him up and down until he was zoned out enough in eroticism and you retrieved. The shift on his face nearly cracked you up, to say he was disappointed was an understatement. It was unmistakable that he wanted you to keep going.  

“Why’d you stop?”

“Well, you said that Captain Holt’s facts were more interesting than our copulation so maybe you should go back to the show and just let me be.”

“Fuck no baby, I didn’t mean that.”

“You gotta do better than that, Barnes.”

“Please, baby? I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?”  

“Any-fucking-thing. What wouldn’t I do for you, doll?”

His pleading face was too adorable to resist and you were planning to return the favour before he begged anyway, so you returned to your previous spot as you pushed him down the bed. He was looking at you with so much eagerness and you couldn’t wait to watch the look on his face when he was about to ejaculate deep within your mouth, quenching your thirst of him.

The day was still long and you were keen to spend the rest of it stimulating one another, defiling the immaculacy of your pristine white sheets.

Man, you really did love Sundays.

[hollanderfangirl]

Let me go |Harry Holland|

Pairing: Harry Holland x Therapist! Reader

A/N: so I'm not a therapist and I've never been to therapy, well if you don't consider the sessions with my psychology teacher. All of what I've written comes from what I've learnt in psychology class, reading books and listening to other people's experiences.

Warnings: talk about death, panic attack and it's just really sad

Word count: 3.3k, this is my longest fic yet :)

(Sorry for the shitty moodboard I just had to post this fic or I would have lost my mind)

Harry Holland walked through the halls of the clinic, not really sure why he was here. Well he knew why he had come to see a therapist but he wondered how he put himself in this situation. He had been locking himself inside a glass cave built out of hopelessness for months, his friends and family were greatly concerned about him but he refused to take any help. He had always been stubborn, he never asked for anybody's help. He hated the look of pity on people's faces. He hated people showing him sympathy. He was more than this. He didn't need anybody. He can pull himself together, he just needed time.

But it wasn't helping. Burying your feelings in has never helped anybody. Putting on a smile everyday in front of people and crying himself to sleep, Harry found it more and more difficult. His mum had sensed it and told him to go and see a doctor. He had resisted it at first. 

"Please do it for me, Harry. I cannot see you like this, at least for my satisfaction," Nikki had said. "Just go for a trial session and if you like it then you can continue," but of course he wasn't going to continue. 

Now as he stood in front of the receptionist, he was reconsidering his decision. 

"Yes, do you have an appointment, sir?" 

"Huh?" he seemed lost. "Yeah..yeah" 

"Just wait here, I'll inform Dr Y/l/n" 

"Your know what, cancel the appointment. I- I don't need help" 

"Oh but this is just a trial, Mr Holland" 

"Yeah but I don't-" the receptionist was already at the door, muttering something to the woman inside. 

You step outside to see a curly headed man, he looked pleasant but his eyes looked sad. Those were the eyes of a person who had seen immense grief, someone who had been miserable for a long long time. 

"I'm sorry but I don't need therapy… I didn't realise this before, I -I shouldn't have come here" 

"Oh Mr Holland, this is just a trial right? Let's just have some coffee. This isn't therapy yet" you smile at him. 

"No I really-" 

"Okay then, give me half an hour. If you still feel the same way, then you can leave. Half an hour is all I want from you, Mr Holland" 

"Alright" 

You lead him into your chamber, closing the door behind you. He sits down on a couch across from you, your desk separating you both. The first step of therapy- resistance. People always resist therapy at first, they feel like they don't need the help or maybe seeking help makes them weak. They don't feel like opening up to a complete stranger. How can they? How can they open up their most vulnerable state to a person who they barely know? But slowly and steadily, a rapport is made. A therapist has to be very careful and empathetic. They have to be trusting. Someone who people can turn to. Someone who they can relate to. Someone who understands them. Someone who would just listen. 

"So, your mother sent you here. Right, Mr Holland?" 

"Just- just call me Harry" 

"Okay then Harry, tell me" 

"What do you want me to tell you?" 

"Everything. Start from the beginning" 

"Well I- do you… do you really think I would-" he hesitates. "Who do you think you are? Why do you think I should pay you to listen to my goddamn life story here?" 

"You're not here to tell me your life story," you say politely. "I'm here to help you and I can do that only if you would let me" 

"Well guess what? You cannot help me, I knew I was wasting my time," he gets up and starts to walk away. 

"I asked for half an hour of your time, Harry" 

"Well I don't fucking care" 

"Harry, please listen to me. All I ask is half an hour" 

Little did he know, this half an hour was going to change his life. 

Something about your tone made him stay. He sat back down on the couch, turning away from you. 

"Okay, so if you're not going to talk, I will," you sigh. "So, you have suffered a great loss, someone you loved dearly?" 

"Yes," he still didn't look you in the eye. 

"Who was it?" 

"My…my friend. Girlfriend" 

"And when did this happen?" 

"A year ago" 

"How have you been holding up?" 

He thought of giving another vague answer. How the fuck do you think I'm holding up? I'm fucking dying every single day. 

"Uh- it's been a little better, I guess. It's not as bad as it used to be" 

"Well that's a start. And do you still think about her?" 

Every goddamn minute, lady. What do you want from me? "Yeah sometimes" 

"And how have you been sleeping?" 

I can't sleep. I haven't slept properly for months. If I sleep I see her coming back to me. "Alright I guess" 

This wasn't going anywhere. You thought of recommending him another doctor but something about him charmed you. He was a man who should have been living a great life but his grief was tearing him apart. You had to help him. You felt a strong connection to him, you felt determined. No, I have to help him. I just have to.

"Harry, do you feel like you're responsible for your girlfriend's death?" it was a straightforward question, you had been trying to get something out of him but he wasn't ready to. 

He looked at you dead in the eye, yet could not get any words out. You could sense the anger building up inside him but it wasn't projected at you, he was angry with himself. 

"I….. " he took a few deep breaths, clenching his hands into fists. "Yes" 

"Why is that so?" 

"Fucking hell! Are you for real? She died, okay? And I wasn't there… I wasn't there.. " he was tearing up. "I should have been the one to die! Not her! Not anybody! Everyone just leaves me in the end!" he was full on shouting, letting out everything he had been holding inside himself for a whole year. He had tears in his eyes.

You handed him a box of tissues and he was gasping for breath. When he had calmed down, you both sat in silence for a few minutes. 

"You know, Harry, my friend died the day we had a fight. She was my best friend. I knew her ever since we were three. It was a silly argument. We should not have fought about it. But we did and I told her I wished she would just go away… and then she did" it was painful for you to remember this, but time does heal everything. 

"I'm sorry," his voice was low. "And I'm sorry for all those things I said" 

"No it's alright, that's what you're here for. And besides, it's nothing compared to your loss, Harry" 

"No. It- it's not a competition. Suffering is not a competition. It must've been really hard for you, Dr y/l/n," this was the first time he had addressed you. 

"Call me y/n," you smile at him. "And yeah that's very true. We often blame ourselves, you know, it's very common. We cannot be angry at them so we get angry with ourselves. Even though we know deep in our hearts that there was nothing we could have done" 

There was a long silence. 

"She went out for a drive, that bastard drunk driver," he spoke up. "And I was just resting. She asked me so many times to join her but I wanted to sleep" 

You nod at him and he continued. "That's…the reason I'm not able to sleep. Every night I close my eyes, I think I'll wake up to that phone call" 

"Well yes I don't blame you, our brains sometimes don't process things that come as a shock. And then it just keeps on haunting us forever. Do you believe in life after death, Harry?" 

"Well I don't know what to believe" 

"Have you- felt her? After she was gone?" 

"You'll think I'm crazy" 

"I'm a therapist, it'll take you much more than that to convince me you're crazy" 

"I sometimes talk to her. Like what would she think about this particular situation. Or just that I miss her so much. I don't get any responses but I just try to think like her?" 

"Yeah, that's quite normal actually. People think they need to 'get over' someone's death. But that's not true. You can never really get over something like death" 

"And what does getting over even mean? Like you just forget them? Moving on with your life just means that you think they were never a part of it" 

"Well you're both right and wrong. Yes we must remember our loved ones who are not with us anymore but at the same time, we have to let them go" 

"How? It's too painful" 

"I know. But do you believe in the concept of souls, Harry?" 

"Yeah I mean," he shrugs. 

"The soul is considered to be immortal. And groups of souls tend to travel together. Even if you don't know it, some way, somehow, they're always with us" 

He says nothing but his eyes looked softer now. 

"And just think about it, think of her seeing you like this. Do you think she could have handled you being so miserable?" 

"She would have been heartbroken" 

"Exactly. So do it for her, for yourself. For both of you to feel peace again" 

"Yeah" 

You look at your watch. Half an hour was up. 

"So, Harry. Your half an hour is up. Is there anything else?" 

"Yes, um we can talk about it in our next session?" 

You smile at him. "Of course" 

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

After that one half an hour session, Harry was a changed man. He was still mourning, he was still miserable but he had hope. For the first time in a long time, he thought he could actually go on with his life, he could finally feel peace.

The week went by smoothly. Harry tried to make himself busy, by surrounding himself with people and always working. He was still getting nightmares but he was determined to sleep. He was sleeping light, afraid of what deep sleep might show him.

Meanwhile your life was exactly the same, you went on with your day treating people, talking, helping them. You loved your job, you loved the sense of satisfaction you got after patients they told you they were finally better. Every person was a challenge, and you knew there was a gem hidden inside every one of them. All of them had immense potential but life hadn't been kind to them. You felt disturbed and it broke your heart to see people hurting. And you would do anything to make it better for them. To help them.

You couldn’t keep Harry out of your mind. You were thinking about him all day long, awaiting your next session with him. What if he cancels? What can I do if he does? Why am I thinking about him? He had this air around him, a magnetic pull, which was pulling your closer and closer towards him. And why is he so damn attractive? No I should not think about him that way. It was the first and foremost rule of your profession. Never get emotionally attached with your clients. It was a professional relationship and must remain that way.

When he came into your office the following week, you could sense the change in him. You felt proud that a single session made such a difference. There was no arrogance in him, he didn’t seem angry anymore. He was calm and better.

“So, Harry. How was your week?”

“It was good, I’ve been shooting my new short film and it’s coming out to be okay so far”

“Alright and how have you been sleeping?”

“Not that good to be honest. I still get dreams, uh bad dreams”

“What do you see in these dreams?”

“I see the accident scene….again and again, it’s the same dream. Sometimes I see her, she talks to me and all that”

“Hmm and have you talked to your family? Your friends?”

“Yeah I talked to my mum…and my brother”

“What did they say?”

“They said they are here for me and will always love me”

“Yes and I don’t doubt that, Harry. You have a lot of people in your life who love and support you. Embrace that”

The session went by smoothly, he opened up to you about his life, everything about the girl he loved so much. About his family, his career. You found yourself staring at him, taking glances at his hands which he constantly moved while he talked. You noticed he was shaking his leg the whole time. Stop staring, y/n.

Wow she’s so beautiful. And thoughtful. And funny and understanding. What am I doing? She’s my therapist….but…why couldn’t I have met her before? Why didn’t I meet her when I was normal? Would things have been different? But then again, I would have never met her if I was normal.

Things seemed to get better, as the weeks progressed, Harry was becoming more and more like his old self again. But there was a feeling of regret, he thought this was wrong as if he were forgetting her. But you were there to guide him, to tell him that this is what life is. It never stops. No matter what happens, you will heal. Someday, sometime. And each day we progress towards it.

And then it happened. The call came at 1 am in the morning. You were sleeping and you were tired, you had been working all day and just needed some rest. You wouldn't have picked the call up but something told you it was important. That you should pick it up.

“Hello?” you yawn.

You just hear muffled breathing for a few seconds.

“Hello? Who is it?”

“It…it’s me…Harry”

“Harry, what’s wrong?” you thought what could have happened at this time of the night.

“I just- can you-” he sounded like he was choking.

“Harry what’s wrong, you’re scaring me”

“I… can’t… breathe,” you hear him sobbing. ”I had… that… dream, I feel like I’m…going to…die”

“Harry, listen to me. You will be okay. Yeah? Just take deep breaths and sit tight. I’m coming to you”

You search through his file to look for his address. When you find it, you rush through the front door and drive to his house. You were on the phone with him the whole drive.

“Just keep breathing, Harry. Deep breaths, okay?”

To your surprise, the front door was unlocked. It looked like he had gone out into the street in the middle of the night. You search through rooms to find him, and you see him curled into a ball at the corner of a king size bed. You touch his shoulder and he flinches.

“Hey, hey it’s just me. It’s alright”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know who else to call,” he was crying, with the tears streaming down his cheeks, his eyes looked small and they looked red from the lack of sleep and of tears.

“It’s alright, Harry. Just come here, it’ll be alright,” you pull him towards yourself him and he buries his face into your chest and you held him, stroking his hair and telling him it will be alright.

“That’s it. Let it out, Harry. It’s okay to cry”

You both stayed like that for another 15 minutes. He couldn’t stop crying and you knew he needed that. He had been holding everything in for so long and it just came out like an explosion tonight. You wiped his tears and made him meditate for a few minutes.

He fell asleep and you stayed up all night, looking at him. He looked so innocent while he slept, and cute too, you thought hiding a blush, even though nobody was there to look at you.

That night, Harry finally felt at peace. He was finally able to sleep. He had no nightmares, just a peaceful dream. He saw his girlfriend, running away from him in a white dress with her hair flowing in the wind.

Please don’t leave me, darling. I love you.

I know you do Harry, but you must let me go. I will always be with you. I will always love you. It is time you start caring about yourself, you must let me go. It is time.

No! don’t leave me!

And he woke up. Something about this dream told him that she was right. It was time. He was finally ready to let her go. For both of their sakes.

He went down to find you sleeping on the couch. He was hesitant at his thoughts but deep down he knew he was falling for you. Am I just using her to cope with my loss? Or do I really love her?

You opened your eyes, looking at Harry sitting on the ground, pushing a strand of hair away from your face.

“Good morning, how did you sleep?”

“Better. Really really better. I- I don’t know how to thank you, y/n and I’m so sorry”

“Hey it’s alright, and I’m glad I could help,” you smile. “I should go now, I have to get to work”

“Let me make breakfast and let me drive you to your house”

“Oh no it’s okay I can-”

“I owe this much to you, y/n. Let me”

“Okay”

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

It wasn’t until another week when Harry had his next session. You had been thinking about him all the time, you were confused, it wasn’t supposed to go this way. But he….who am I kidding I’m in love with him.

When he walked through the door on a Thursday morning next week, he looked healthy and happier than ever. You felt a sense of happiness yourself, therapy is always beneficial to both the patient and the therapist. Every person is a deep universe, their thoughts, experiences, pain, joy, everything. Empathising with clients is a great learning experience, it becomes a part your personality. It becomes a part of you.

“Hey y/n”

“Hi Harry”

“So my week as been as it’s always and I’ve been feeling a lot better ever since that day…and that dream” he had told you about the dream he had the night you watched him sleep. He seemed to completely change after that, he let go of the intense emotions he had been carrying around.

“That’s very good and you’ve made a lot of progress since our first meeting”

“Yeah…I have”

The session went on as usual, he talked about everything that happened, he started fighting with his brothers again, which he hadn’t done in a long time and even though they were pissed off at him, they were happy to have him back.

“Um Harry,” you say at the end of the session. “I think-” you try to choose your words correctly. “I think it’s about time you start seeing another therapist, yeah?”

You see his face drop. “wh-why? I’m doing so much better, is..is it because of that night? I’m so sorry y/n”

“No it’s not that. You and I both know what’s happening between us, it’s wrong for a therapist to get emotionally attached with her patient. I’m sorry, Harry”

“So you’re saying that you’re becoming emotionally attached with me?”

“I..I’m-“

“It’s alright. I understand y/n”

“Yes, thank you. This has been great”

“So… now that you’re not my therapist, can I meet you for coffee this evening?”

“Harry-“

“Half an hour, Dr y/l/n. Just give me half an hour of your time, if you still feel the same way, I’ll never bother you again”

“Uh-" you hesitate. You knew you should have said no. You were going to say no. Yet the words which came out of your mouth were “Okay then, it’s a date”

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

Taglist:

@mischiefmanaged011 @notsosmexy @perspectiveparker @justanothermarvelmaniac @amorhollands @thisetaernallove @halfblood-princess-505 @spidey-reids-2003 @peterspideysstuff @musicalkeys @theliterarymess @ilarbu @hollands-weasley @tombob2005 @tommysparker @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @parkerpeter24 @more-like-reyna @hollandbroz-n-haz @aqiise

[vintagedolan]

Jealous, overprotective, handsy kinda Grayson is my kink ya know. Your concepts always slap hard ngl 🤷😌❤️✨🥺👉👈

hello ily and I made a part three cause ya’ll begged me for it lmao here u go love u all sm

(first one, second one)

Seven days. The construction was only supposed to take three, and now it had been a whole week of you and Grayson sleeping on separate couches (you’d tried to cuddle, and you’d ended up in the floor on night one... not great) without a minute to yourselves.

Sure, Ethan wasn’t purposefully hanging around constantly, but where exactly were you supposed to go for alone time? The fuckin’ garage? Living room life wasn’t exactly feasible for how handsy Grayson liked to get, and you could tell that he was going to lose his cool soon.

Apparently, he knew it too. 

All you could offer was a cocked eyebrow when you came in and saw Grayson criss cross on the floor, folding both your laundry and his and shoving it into one of his Louis Vuitton duffels.

“Whatcha doin?” You asked, catching his attention. 

He grinned up at you, placing the last few things in the bag. “More like what are we doin.”

“Oh?” 

“We are getting away for a few days.” He said it proudly as he stood up. “Grab a snack for the road, I’ve already got everything packed up.”

“Gray, we aren’t supposed to go anywhere,” you mumbled, but it was half hearted - the thought of being alone with Grayson for a few days was almost too good to pass up, no matter the circumstances. Even without the construction, Ethan was always just across the house - true alone time was rare for you all.

“I called the host last night, they had someone come and disinfect the whole place. We’re fine, and we’re supporting local business,” he grinned wide enough for you to see the jewels on his incisors. 

“Right, cause we’re definitely doing this to support local business.” 

“Of course.”

“It has nothing to do with the fact that you’re having to ‘share’ me?” You teased, quoting him from a few days prior. 

He didn’t answer. He just leaned in to kiss you quickly. “Get a snack and meet me in the porsche.”

You did as he said, grabbing something from the cabinet and heading out the back door, circling the long way around the house to get to where the cars were parked. 

You climbed in the passenger seat, waiting patiently as Grayson maneuvered his way around the 5 different trucks that were in the driveway before reaching over for his hand. 

He took yours, pressing kisses to each of your knuckles - he looked the most relaxed he’d been in days, and he was only five minutes out from home. 

“You seem happy,” you observed.

“What’s not to be happy about? It’s just me and my girl in my car, no one else here to steal you away, askin’ for face mask advice or for waters,” he muttered. He was looking to the left as he turned, so he missed your scoff.

“Your jealousy knows no bounds, not even the construction workers are safe,” you sighed, just imagining what his face looked like when the workers asked you if you had any spare waters in the fridge. 

“I offered them waters every day and they never asked me,” he countered.

“I love you,” was all you could say as you shook your head and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

Four hours later and you were settled into the cozy airbnb that he’d found, with a beautiful view of the coast, even from the hot tub you were currently sitting in. It felt like a little oasis, with greenery all around to make it feel private and secluded - good thing too, because Grayson had conveniently forgotten to pack a single bathing suit top for you.

Skin on skin had never felt so nice as you sat on his lap in the hot water, letting him pepper kisses all across your collarbones, your chest, your neck.

“Beats the living room doesn’t it.” He had a smug grin on his face when he looked up at you.

“By a long shot,” you smiled, just relaxing into the feeling of his lips on you. You twirled his hair in your fingers, a shiver running through you as he kissed right over one of your nipples, half from the sensation and half from the breeze.

He noticed your goosebumps and frowned, guiding you off his lap so you could turn around and get deeper into the water. He pulled you back to him, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pressing a kiss to your hair. 

“This is so nice. Thanks, for planning it and everything,” you said, kissing his forearm.

“Did it more for me than for you, I was losing my mind in the house.”

“I could tell. You get jealous so easy. Why is that?” It was an honest question.

“I dunno really, I’ve always just kinda been that way. I guess it’s kinda natural when you’re a twin. You share everything, from the minute you’re born. So when you get something that’s just yours, you want it all to yourself, all the time, ya know?” His arms tightened around you as he spoke, only reiterating your words.

“Do you wish I’d spend less time with Ethan?”

“No, not at all. I love that you guys are so close - don’t really know what I’d do if you weren’t close if I’m honest. Wait... you know you didn’t do anything wrong right? I’m not mad at you or anything-”

“I know baby, I didn’t think you were. I’m just trying to understand, that’s all. Singleton over here, remember?” You reassured him, twisting so you could look at him. He settled you sideways over his lap, hand tracing up and down your leg under the water.

“Okay, good. Just checking. Usually I’m fine, it’s just that we haven’t had any just us time lately. You know, like waking up together, or getting ready for bed. That’s us time, in our room, in our bed. Fuck, I miss our bed,” he trailed off.

“Not gonna lie, super excited to not sleep on a couch tonight,” you admitted with a giggle, leaning in to steal a kiss.

“Who said we were sleeping?” He murmured against your lips, sending butterflies to your stomach. When you kissed him just a bit harder, he recognized his cue and stood up, scooping you up in his arms bridal style as he stepped carefully out of the tub.

He sat you down on your feet, reaching for a towel and wrapping it around your shoulders quickly before grabbing his own and wiping down quickly, tying it around his waist when he was done. He reached back out for you, rubbing his hands over the tops of your arms to warm you up while you dried off.

“You know, you didn’t explain why me giving the construction workers water made you jealous,” you pried, a little smirk on your face.

“The one in the blue hat had a thing for you. He watched your every move,” he explained, a little bitterness in his voice. “That guy asked you for water at least five times every day.”

“Who, Rob? He was nice!”

“Oh, you and Rob are on a first name basis now huh? Interesting,” he said, but his tone was playful. That, and the little flare of mischief in his eyes were your only warnings before he grabbed you, actually throwing you over his shoulder. You squealed as he carried you in the house.

“We’ll see if you remember anybody’s name but mine at the end of the night.”

[smilebouquet]

somewhere to go, someone to love

my secret santa gift (@ducktalessecretsanta2020) for @kvanderquack!! i’m sorry for tagging again after i already sent my gift via dm-

also on ao3!!

––––––––––

For as long as Lena lived (all fifteen years), she’d always been alone. She was born alone on the heights of Mount Vesuvius, from the remnants of her Aunt Magica’s shadow. She travelled to Duckburg alone, with no one to keep her company other than the voices in her head and the harsh whispering of her shadow. She bore the brunt of Magica’s lashings and whining alone, hurt and angry and bitter.

A happy family felt like such a foreign concept to her. Magica was always her one and only kin, the only person who had a connection to her. And she hated every second of it. If having just one aunt was so exhausting, imagine having two aunts. Imagine three. Criticizing your every move. Yelling at you for screwing up. Demanding nothing but obedience and respect and returning none of it. 

Lena didn’t think she would be able to take it. Family just didn’t sound like something she’d like.

That’s what she thought, anyway, until the Sabrewings took her in.

––––––––––

1.

Lena can’t sleep.

Or to be exact, she can’t sleep peacefully. Ever since she came back to the land of the living, she’s been having dreams. Dreams where she found herself running from her. Into the woods, where the screeching of bats rang in the air, and the ground was muddy and made each consecutive step heavy. Or within a mansion suspiciously similar to Scrooge’s, her voice bouncing off the walls and getting closer and closer until they were literally screaming into her ears. She could do nothing but run.

She never dared to look back, but Lena always managed to glimpse her in the corner of her eye. The swish of a velvety black cape. A gloved hand, reaching out to snatch her. A flash of purple magic. 

Lena always manages to wake up before Magica could grab her and do god-knows-what. She would always be grateful for the fact that she awoke easily. But every dream ended in To Be Continued — never The End — and Lena didn’t want to know what The End would look like, because she has the sinking feeling that it won’t be a Happily Ever After.

Tonight is no different. She’s staring up at the ceiling of Violet’s room, letting the muffled snores of her roommate fill the still air. It’s getting increasingly hard to stay awake, and she isn’t sure how much longer she can take it.

Sighing, she rolls out of bed and leaves the room, making sure the door creaked as quietly as possible and that it clicked shut. She heads down the stairs and into the living room. A bookshelf stands in the corner, filled with all sorts of books from encyclopedias to photography books.

Lena instinctively grabs a cookbook (and accidentally knocks off a few more, but she’ll deal with them later) from the second topmost shelf. Yellow sticky notes jut out of the pages, all written on with dark purple ink. Walking into the kitchen adjacent, she flicks on the light, then flips the book open. Vanilla Cake, reads the title in big bold letters, followed by the exact quantity of ingredients needed and the instructions on how to bake one.

This should keep her up until tomorrow.

"...Lena? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

She freezes. Ty is standing at the door, a wooden baseball bat loosely held in his grip. He chucks it aside and steps into the kitchen.

"Hey." She waves half-heartedly with a sheepish smile. "I, uh, couldn't sleep."

"And you're in the kitchen with a cookbook, why?"

Because Aunt Magica haunts my dreams every night and I don’t wanna deal with it anymore?

“...I wanted to do something nice for my friends for once, so I thought baking a cake for our sleepover would be neat?”

Ty’s gaze flickers between Lena and the clock currently showing 12:59. He pinches the area between his eyes. “Lena, it’s late. I think you should go to bed—”

“No!” He flinches. Lena’s eyes widen. “I mean— no, I can’t go to bed until I finish this cake!” she backtracks, her voice cracking. Her heart is pounding. She can't go to sleep, she can't...! “If you help me, I’ll go to bed sooner! Maybe!”

Ty scratches the back of his head. “Well, Indy’s the dad who bakes, not me... but I suppose I can try.”

Relief washes over her. She flashes him a tired smile, handing him a bowl and some measuring cups. “Thanks.”

––––––––––

2.

“We’re back!” 

Indy looks up from the couch. “Welcome back. How was your sleepover?”

“Pleasant,” Violet replies, already halfway up the stairs. “Ate some cake. Played a video game. Saved Lena from getting dragged into a mirror and possibly losing her within a lucid dream to the witch responsible for the shadow war several months ago. The usual.”

“Sounds nice,” Indy remarks. Then did a double take. “Wait, what?”

Ty laughs, following after Violet. “It’s a long story. Took the whole car ride for them to finish telling it.” Indy glares after him, but shrugs and returns to his book.

Lena drops her own bag on the floor and flops onto the couch with a heavy sigh. She could shower or whatever later. Right now she just wanted to rest.

“Long day?” Indy asks, barely moving from his position on the right side of the couch.

“Kinda. I’ve been through worse, though.”

There's a beat of silence.

The unspoken Like what? hangs over her head uncomfortably. Is this the part where she spills her entire life story? Should she play it off as a joke? Would it be wise to pretend she hadn’t said anything? She can feel Indy’s stare on her shoulder, burning like a pair of red-hot lasers—

He either noticed her discomfort, or is really good at reading minds, because he hums quietly and says, “You don’t have to elaborate.”

“...Ah. Right. Okay.” She sits upright, then lets out a short laugh. Her eyes wander over to Indy, who’s still reading his book with a content look on his face. “What is that?”

Indy shows her the book. There’s a bunch of pictures of Violet, Ty and Indy together. “It’s one of the family photo albums,” he explains. “Photography is one of my hobbies.”

Lena grunts in response, then peers at the photos more closely. “Is that Violet in the library?”

“Oh, that’s from the first time we visited the public library together. We had just moved into Duckburg, and wanted to do a little sightseeing. Violet insisted that we check out the library. That girl always did love reading. She gets it from Ty…”

They spend the rest of the hour looking through the photo album together. There’s a surprising amount of photos in this one tiny album, each preserving a special memory that Indy knows by heart and tells Lena about with nothing but fondness. She now knows that Violet used to take ballet classes (and hated it), has won at least two national spelling bees by the age of six, and is part of the Junior Woodchucks.

Photos from before Violet was born are also in it, located near the end of the album. Indy tells Lena that he first met Ty at a college entrance exam. They had entered the building at the same time, and Ty thought it would be neat to strike a conversation with him. They hit it off pretty much immediately, but forgot to ask for each other’s phone numbers before they went their separate ways.

“But you’re married now?!” Lena blurts out, jumping from the cough to point a shaky finger at him. “How?!”

He chuckles. “We met again at a supermarket several months later, I believe, reaching for the same can of beans. Ty’s first words to me ever since were ‘Holy shit, you like beans, too?!’ This time we remembered to exchange contact information, and here we are ten years later.”

“I— Wow.” Lena sits back down. “Some luck you have.”

“I wouldn’t call it luck,” he admits. His fingers gently caressing the old photo of them. “I like to think of it as fate. If we’re meant to be together, life will find a way to get us together.”

(Lena thinks about Webby.

She thinks about their “chance” meeting at the amphitheater.

She thinks about how she almost lost Webby by sacrificing herself to protect her.

She thinks about how lucky she had been that Violet was there in the library that day, reading a nerdy old book.

She inwardly decides that Indy is probably right.)

Once they reach the end of the album, Indy moves to close it. The corners of several photographs stick out from the side. Lena blinks.

“And those are?”

He looks down. “Oh.” Tucking them back in, he replies, “Those are some of the newer photographs. Haven’t gotten a new album for them yet, so I keep them here for the time being.” His fingers drum on the hard cover. “Come to think of it, I don't have any pictures with you yet. We’ll need to remedy that.”

“Hm, why?”

“You’re family, after all. I think you deserve a spot in the photo album.”

Family. She’s family. The thought of it makes her heart flutter.

It takes her a minute to realize Indy stopped talking, and is looking at her with the slightest hint of hesitation in his expression.

She beams at him. “That would be nice. You should get a new album first, though.” As if on cue, a photograph falls out. She picks up. “Hey, what about this one?” Indy lights up, and starts going into a tangent about the one time they lost Violet at Duckburg’s largest department store. As he does, she zones out for a bit, testing the name.

‘Lena Sabrewing’, huh…  She can feel her smile widening.  Sounds way cooler than Lena de Spell.

––––––––––

3.

This is terrible, Lena concludes.

They’re on the way to the Junior Woodchuck Campgrounds for Violet’s upcoming graduation. She’s a little hazy on the details, but she does know that each year only one senior junior woodchuck can become a senior woodchuck (“That’s dumb! Why can’t you all just become senior woodchucks?!” “Don’t question it, Lena.”), they decide who graduates with some sort of obstacle course, and Violet’s opponent this year is likely going to be Huey.

Lena also knows that the campgrounds are located waaaay out on some island in the middle of nowhere, and if she sees another “NOW LEAVING DUCKBURG” sign she’s going to lose it. She lets out a groan as she slides farther down her seat, watching the pine trees blur into a strip of green on the landscape. “Hey, Vi, how much longer ‘til we’re there?”

No answer.

“Vi?”

Again, no answer. Lena knows that Violet has a tendency to be quiet during car rides, preferring to admire the scenery as they drive, but Violet should’ve at least spared her a grunt at this point.

She decides to turn and look at her. Violet is staring at her lap, perfectly still. Her fists are clenched so tightly she can see the white knuckles beneath her purple feathers, and they’re trembling.

“Vi, what’s wrong...?” Lena begins to ask, and then immediately Indy’s voice from before echoes in her head.

“Third time’s the charm, right Vi?”

The gears click into place. Oh.

She inches closer to Violet’s side — as much as she can with her seatbelt on, anyway — and reaches out to place a comforting hand over Violet’s. The hummingbird looks up.

“Hey,” Lena says, “you’ll be okay. You’re the best nerd I’ve ever know. What’s Huey got, his stupid guidebook? You’ve got this.”

“Actually, the Junior Woodchuck Wilderness Challenge prohibits use of the guidebook,” Violet corrects, then sighs. “Sorry. I know you’re trying to comfort me, but I…” She trails off. “I know failing is natural, but it still terrifies me every single time.”

Silence.

Indy, from the passenger seat, pipes up, “Violet, you know that just being willing to go back and try again is… really brave, right? Yeah, failure is inevitable, and very terrifying, but not a lot of people are able to bounce back from it like you do.”

“What Indy said.” Ty peers at them from the rearview mirror and gives them a thumbs up. “We love you no matter what, and I bet you’re gonna crush the competition this year.”

“Yeah! What they said! You’re Violet Sabrewing. You brought me back from the Shadow Realm. If you can do that, you can do anything!”

Violet stares at her for a moment, then Indy, then Ty. Her eyes are glassy. She opens her fist to hold Lena’s hand and squeezes it weakly.

“Thanks,” she whispers, with a smile that doesn’t exactly reach her eyes.

...At least she’s smiling a little. Lena frowns, but gets an idea. She leans forward to ask Ty, “By the way, how long until we get there?”

“Five hours, I think,” Indy answers.

“FIVE HOURS?!” She can feel a vein pop in her head. Five hours. Five. Hours. It feels like she’s been in this stinkin’ car for decades already. Well, no matter.

She turns to Violet. “Alright, since we’re basically stuck here, why don’t I teach you how to smacktalk?”

Violet raises an eyebrow, clearly unamused. “Is that really necessary? Also, I doubt Hubert would appreciate—”

“Of course it is! And of course he won’t. You can’t have a healthy rivalry without a little back and forth! Where’s the fun in that?! Now, the key to good smacktalk is...”

She spends the rest of the ride lecturing Violet on the essentials of smacktalk (read: making most of it up as she went). As they drove, Violet’s shoulders began to relax and she allowed herself to laugh more, and Lena felt more at ease than she had in a while.

––––––––––

4.

Lena wakes up with a gasp. Frantically, she feels around. Her arms are intact. Her legs are still here. Nothing hurts. Phantom Blot isn’t here. Okay. It was just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream.

“Lena?”

“Vi?” Lena calls, but it sounds more like a choked sob. She’s suddenly acutely aware of the tears messing up her feathers and her pounding heart.

Violet sits up. “Another nightmare?” she asks, her voice quiet. Lena nods. She gets up from bed and leaves the room. Lena sits in the darkness, her hands gripping her knees tightly. Breathe in, breathe out.

Violet returns with a tall glass of water and hands it to her. Lena takes it and brings the glass to her beak. The water is cool and soothing.

“They’ve become increasingly frequent. Shouldn’t we talk to our fathers about this?”

“No,” Lena says immediately, finishing her glass and setting it on the night table with shaky hands. “I don’t want them to get worried.” 

Violet gives her a glare that pierces even in the dark, then sighs.

“Very well.”

✿ — ✿ — ✿

On Christmas Day, Lena wakes up to Violet dumping a bucket of cold water over her.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Ack—! Violet, what the hell?!”

“Apologies,” Violet says, her tone betraying her words. She’s already dressed in a plain cream turtleneck. “You wouldn’t wake up no matter what I did.” She tugs at her sleeve. “Now, come. Fathers are already in the living room. You were literally the last to awaken.” Without waiting for a response, she drags her out of the room and down the stairs.

The living room feels… warmer than usual. There are string lights, giving out a gentle multicoloured glow, both around the Christmas Tree and hung up along the walls. Someone took the time to hang a wreath on every door in the house, each covered in mini ornaments and topped with a red bow. The bright orange fire in the fireplace is crackling.

Ty and Indy are already waiting, wearing matching Christmas sweaters. “Merry Christmas!” they greet, pulling the two girls into a hug. 

“Merry Christmas,” Lena says back before pulling away. The cheeriness of the season was beginning to catch up to her. “So! What do we do first?”

“Well, the presents are under the tree but maybe eat breakfast first—”

Lena was gone the moment Ty said ‘presents’. She rushes to the tree and begins checking the tags for her name. Not that there are that many presents to check. Violet follows soon after with a much calmer demeanor.

She ends up with a limited edition of The FeatherWeights’ newest album from Ty and Indy (“How did you know they’re my favourite band?!” “Your shirt is all we needed to clue us in.”) and an exact replica of the Caw-nverse shoes she loves wearing. Violet receives two books — an encyclopedia the thickness of one and a half dictionaries about magic and a thinner book called Tales of the Peculiar.

She’s ready to head off to the dining table to eat when Violet stops her. 

“Wait.” She pulls out a neatly wrapped present from her pocket and holds it out to Lena. “Here.”

“Wh— But I didn’t get you anything!”

“It’s okay.” Violet shoves the present into her hands. “Just take it.” Lena peers at her suspiciously before tearing the wrapping paper clean off and opening the box.

A dreamcatcher. The hoop used is a nice beige, and a flower-like design had been woven within it with colourful threads. White feathers suspended from twine, with beads adorning the strands at intervals, are attached to the hoop. Lena dangles the dreamcatcher above the box and looks at Violet questioningly.

“It may not be as beneficial as actual therapy since I couldn’t infuse it with any magic, but it should help keep the bad dreams at bay,” Violet explains. “Probably. I made it myself so it might not work.”

Lena stares at the dreamcatcher again. Upon closer inspection, the feathers and beads appear to be glued to the twine, and the twine was wound imperfectly around the base of the hoop. The flower design is also uneven, having slightly larger ‘petals’ on one side. She feels herself tear up. “Violet. This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me.”

“I can’t believe saving you from roaming in the shadow realm for all of eternity isn’t the sweetest thing I've ever done for you,” Violet replies, completely deadpan. But the corners of her beak are twitching upwards.

“You wanted to summon evil spirits! I was a byproduct. It doesn’t count,” Lena jokes, putting the dreamcatcher away. She envelopes her in a crushing hug. “Thank you.” Her voice is wobbling. “This is just— It must’ve taken ages. Now I feel even worse for not getting you anything.”

Violet hugs her back just as tightly. “You’re welcome. Just make sure you get me my own personal library next year.”

As if your room isn’t filled with enough books as is, Lena thinks, but she can’t help but laugh.

Ty clears his throat. “This is great, but it’s already nine and you girls haven’t even had breakfast yet, so chop chop! We’ve got a whole day ahead of us.”

(They end up at the ice rink, where Lena learns that she’s actually terrible at ice skating. Violet offers to teach her like the Samaritan she is, but doesn’t hesitate to throw jabs at her incompetence. Fortunately, she’s not the only one who’s suffering, if Indy’s screaming and Ty’s guffawing are any indications.)

––––––––––

In the first fifteen years of her life, Lena had been alone with no one to turn to. Being part of a happy family felt like something out of a movie or fairy tale. Happiness seemed like an unreachable dream.

But within two years, she found a best friend in Webby, a sister in Violet, and two dads in Ty and Indy. She found a family to call her own, one that loved her and made her feel good about herself. She was finally content.

The dreamcatcher and family photo hanging above her bed would need to be pried from her cold, dead hands.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Run To You - Chpt.2

Summary: Steve calls Bucky to tell him he was right and the two get to know each other a little more. Still drawn to one another, the guys go out on their first date. Master list is HERE :)

Content Warning: mention of past child neglect/ abuse in regards to how Bucky lost his arm. It’s only a couple paragraphs but it’s depressing AF. 

Word Count: 3.3k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! There is a smidge of angst in this chapter and I had never really intended for it go that direction. Damn characters not behaving the way I want them to! I apologize in advance for giving you some sad feels on this one, I got myself with them too. But hopefully there’s enough fluffiness to balance it out. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Two

Becca sleeps the day away but it’s a restless fever ridden sleep with her waking up every few hours to cry that her stomach hurts. Bucky manages to catch cat naps while she sleeps but they’re both exhausted by the time the day is over. He manages to get some fluids in her once she’s fully woken up and she keeps most of it down, much to Bucky’s relief. He hates seeing his baby girl sick and is thankful for his medical training, so that he knows what to expect and look out for. It’s just past seven o’clock at night and while they would normally be doing Becca’s bath time routine, he doesn’t have the heart to disrupt her. She finally drank the rest of her Pedialyte and is half watching an episode of Wonder Pets while her eyes droop sleepily. He waits until her eyes stay shut for a few minutes before awkwardly scooping up the little girl to carry her off to bed. He doesn’t have a free hand to turn off the TV, having taken off his prosthetic the second he got back from the bodega, but figures he needs to go back out to clean things up for the night anyways. 

“Bucky?” Becca slurs sleepily as he lays her down in her bed. 

“Yeah, Becs?” He pulls up her comforter, getting it tucked tightly around her body like she prefers. 

“Love you.” she half says, half yawns. 

Bucky fights back the tears that prickle in the corner of his eyes. “Love you too, bug. Get some rest.”

Becca gives a little nod and then sprawls out into her usual sleeping position. 

Bucky shuts off her lamp and closes the door, leaving it open just a crack in case she needs him in the night. She seems to be getting to the otherside of whatever virus she’d caught but he knows it isn’t always a sure thing. He hopes he’ll only have to miss one day of work staying home with her but knows it’ll most likely be two.

There isn’t too much of a mess to clean up but Bucky busies himself with turning off the TV and clearing the coffee table. He’s washing the dishes and debating his dinner options when his phone buzzes angrily in his back pocket. Drying off his hand, he pulls out his phone and sees Steve’s name on the screen. Bucky swipes to accept the call and nestles the phone between his shoulder and jaw. “Hey, Steve.” 

“Bucky, hey.” Steve replies eagerly. “So I’ve spent the last six hours doing nothing but reading history articles and I gotta say, you were right.” 

Bucky smiles as he rifles through his cabinets for something to eat, “I suspected as much. How far off is it? Out of curiosity.” 

Steve sighs heavily through his nose and Bucky wondered how exasperated the other man must look. “It’s pretty fuckin’ terrible.” he finally admits.

Bucky laughs, “Wow, you really do know how to curse!” 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, ya jerk. It was just… surprising, I guess, to see how much these so-called experts missed. Don’t get me wrong, I know some people had it okay and some people had it a lot worse, but the way they make the whole thing feel so… sterile... I don’t know. They don’t seem to capture the feel of the times. Like yes we had food rations, but they don’t tell you how small those rations were. And how even if you got your stamps you might not be able to find the food you had a stamp for. My mother had to go all the way to Queens one time just to buy eggs so we’d have something with protein to eat.”

“That sounds terrible, I can’t even imagine.” Bucky juggles the phone carefully as he pulls down a tin of tuna. 

“We made it, somehow. And it wasn’t all terrible all the time, but it was a sight worse than they make it out to be. It’s like that now too, isn’t it? The world isn’t quite as progressive as people like to think it is?” 

Bucky pauses, trying to sort out his words. “It is and it isn’t. I think my experience is a little different than most but it’s definitely not the rainbows and goodwill that they say it is.” 

Steve’s voice is low and rich like good bourbon pouring across the phone lines. “Tell me what it’s like for you, then.” 

Bucky stills, shocked by the raw earnestness of Steve’s words. There’s an undercurrent too, like something whispered in a lover’s ear in the dead of night. It stirs things inside Bucky that he hasn’t had the time or inclination for in a really long time. Figuring he should reciprocate the honesty Steve has afforded him so far, Bucky hops up to sit on the kitchen counter and gets himself comfortable to tell his story. “Well, I grew up in a little backwater town in Indiana. The biggest export of our town was meth and most everyone was affected by that. People used religion like a weapon and thought The Republican Way was gospel. I didn’t fit in to any of that from day one and it made growing up there hard.” 

“What were you like as a kid?” Steve asks, curious.

“I was pretty much everything that town wasn’t. My parents weren’t really able to take care of me so I figured out early on how to care for myself. I was angry a lot because of that once I got older. I didn’t really try to fit in. I studied hard, worried about getting good grades so I could earn scholarships to a decent college and get out of there. I didn’t care much about religion and was fiercely liberal from the time I understood what politics were. And I’m queer, that didn’t help me fit in either. I, uh, I hope that doesn’t bother you.” Bucky falters, knowing Steve’s generation was a lot less forgiving about that sort of thing. 

“It doesn’t. I’m bi, actually. We did have homosexuality back in the thirties despite what the historians think.” 

“Holy shit.” Bucky blurts out. Captain America is bisexual. 

“It’s not something that comes up a lot, but I don’t hide it when asked. Somehow it never seems to make the news though.” 

“I think it would seriously fuck with some people’s world view if it did. That’s good, though. That you don’t have to hide it. It’s one of those things that isn’t quite like the news reports it. Sure, things are a hell of a lot better now for queer folk, but we still get bullied, discriminated against, sometimes even killed.” Despite himself, Bucky yawns deeply. He’s beyond tired but unwilling to hang up. 

“You sound exhausted.” Steve notes, “I should let you go.”

“No, it’s okay. I just had a long night followed by a long day. I’ll crash soon and hopefully Becca sleeps in tomorrow.” 

“Becca is your… daughter?” 

“My sister, actually. I adopted her when she was born. She feels like she’s mine but I never wanted to hide that fact that I’m her brother, not her dad. I don’t want her growing up not knowing who she really is.”

“You’re pretty amazing, Buck.” And Steve means every weighted word of it. 

Bucky shakes his head, almost dislodging his phone in the process. “Just got lucky enough to make a better life for myself, and her. That’s all.” 

“I think there’s a lot more to it than that, but okay. Really though, I should let you go. We can talk another day? Maybe grab that lunch together?” 

“Yeah, definitely. My schedule is a little crazy but I have off rotation in a few days, we could go out Thursday while Becca’s at preschool?”

“It’s a date. I’ll text you later this week so we can figure out the where and when.” 

“Sounds like a plan. Night, Steve.” 

The warm smile on Steve’s face practically shines through the phone line, “Night, Buck.” 

Bucky hangs up and stares around his tiny apartment in amazement. If you had told him a week ago that he was going to insult Captain America to his face and end up befriending him, he would have called you crazy. It’s a little odd having to separate the public persona he knows as Captain America, from Steve, the real guy under the cowl, but Bucky is looking forward to getting to know the real him better. 

xxXxx

“The best pizza in Brooklyn, huh?” Steve questions, squinting up at the shop’s sign. 

Bucky nods enthusiastically. “Definitely. They still use the old fashioned brick ovens and homemade sauce. Fresh herbs, locally sourced cheese. It sounds fancy but it’s really just good, old school, pizza.” 

“We’ll see. Sam recently introduced me to the concept of a dollar slice, and I think anything will be better than that.” 

“Oh man, yeah. Some places are decent, but most are shit.”

Bucky and Steve order a large pie to share, picking a small table in the back to sit at. Steve is amused when he spots a cooler with real glass bottles of soda and grabs one for each of them. Bucky smiles when he sees the bottles, able to guess Steve’s amusement at seeing something familiar. 

The pizza is up before they know it and Steve is moaning at the first bite. “Sorry.” he mumbles around his mouthful of gooey cheese. “It’s really good.” 

Bucky swallows quickly so he can respond, “Told ya.” 

Steve nods, properly contrite. “You did. Thanks for bringing me here.” 

“Any time.” Bucky smiles over at him and wonders what it would be like if they were out on a real date. One that ended with Steve walking him home and kissing him goodnight. He tries to shake the fantastical idea from his mind but it lingers, coming to the surface whenever Steve looks at him a little longer than most would find polite. 

They’re quiet through Steve’s first two slices, Bucky finishing his first as Steve goes for a third. Bucky has a healthy appetite but Steve is something else. “Super soldier, sorry.” Steve tells him with a shrug when he sees Bucky eyeing up his plate.

“No judgement here. Everyone’s gotta eat.” Bucky assures him. 

Steve slows down enough to make conversation after a little while, asking Bucky questions about his job and Becca. Steve is infinitely impressed with Bucky’s job as an ER nurse considering his mother had been a nurse and he knows first hand what a toll that profession can take on people. 

Bucky catches Steve glancing at his sleek metal prosthetic but the blonde is too polite to bring it up. “You can ask, you know. Most people just make assumptions about it, none of which are even close to the truth.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve apologizes, “I didn’t want to be rude.” 

“You’re not. It’s not my favorite topic but I’m better talking about it now. Go ahead, ask.”

Steve hesitates but trusts Bucky to know his own mind. “Okay, then. Bucky, how did you lose your arm?” 

Bucky takes a steadying breath and dives into the polite for public version of how he lost his left arm. His parents took him to the lake one summer when he was six, he’d begged for months and they finally agreed to drive out to spend a day there. He got a scratch on his arm and it got infected from the lake water. His parents weren’t too great on the whole “parenting” thing and didn’t notice when it got infected until he collapsed. At that point the arm was too far gone and the doctors had amputated it just above the elbow. 

What Bucky leaves out is that the scratch had actually been a gash and he’d gotten a beating for being careless before they headed for home. Sitting sorely in the backseat the whole bumpy ride home, using his own tshirt to wrap around his arm to help slow the bleeding. It was his transformers tshirt and it had been his favorite. Bucky leaves out the week of agonizing pain as the gash got worse, the infection burning and itching horribly until he couldn’t handle it anymore. Both of his parents were too strung out to notice and he’d tried, the best he could at that age, to put band-aids on it but then he caught another beating for using up all the band-aids. Bucky doesn’t tell Steve that the days he spent in the hospital were some of the best he could remember back then. The nurses were nice and brought him hot food three times a day. On Friday an ice cream cart came around. There were books he could read and other kids he could play with. When it was time for him to go home, he’d cried the entire way. 

Bucky notices Steve is staring at him expectantly and realizes he's gone silent, lost in the less than pleasant memories. “Sorry, it was a long time ago.” he clears his throat, pushing past the ugly memories and moving on, “I got this bad boy through a grant from a children’s hospital when I was fifteen. It was strange having two arms at first. Up until that point I’d spent most of my life with just the one. It was after that hospital stint that I decided on nursing. The nurses who cared for me during both of my hospital stays were just amazing. They took what could have been really scary experiences and made them into something good. I wanted to be able to do that for someone else, someday.” 

“Nurses are definitely superheroes.” Steve acknowledges. “My ma worked in the TB ward when I was a kid. She just had this way about her that she could spin any negative life threw at her into a positive. She was incredible. And I wasn’t an easy kid by any means.”

“Yeah, I heard something about that in the history books. Something about you being a feisty little shit always getting himself in trouble.” Bucky smirks, waiting for Steve to dispute it.

“It wasn’t quite as bad as they say it was. I only broke up a handful of fights over the years and always bullies who deserved it. I was as sick as they claimed though. The medical records were all real and my poor ma worked herself to the bone just trying to keep my lungs and heart going.”

“I feel for her. Even with medical training, it’s awful watching your kid get sick. Becca has some issues, she was born premature, and even though I know exactly what’s an annoyance versus a true issue, it’s still so hard watching her struggle.” 

Steve’s expression falls, “I’m so sorry, Buck.” He reaches out across the table on impulse and grasps Bucky’s hand in his. “What, uh... if you don’t mind me asking, what issues does she have? You’ve seen my list and part of that was from being a preemie myself. It’s not like mine, is it?” 

Bucky wants to melt through the booth into a puddle at the warm heavy contact of Steve’s hand over his. “No, not quite so bad. Her immune system isn’t the greatest, she has asthma that we have relatively under control, a heart murmur that the docs still think will close as she gets older, she’s anemic but has meds for it, and she’s never quite been out of the danger zone on the growth chart. She’s just a tiny little thing, but she's the cutest little girl you’ll ever lay eyes on.”  

“I have no doubt. She’s really lucky he has you.” 

They’re quiet for a moment, nothing to fill the silence but Steve’s thumb rubbing rhythmically over the ridges of Bucky’s knuckles. “Sorry, I didn’t exactly pick the happiest first date topics, did I?” Steve forces a painfully awkward laugh, taking back his hand as he tries to think of a less serious topic for them.

“First date, huh?” Bucky grins despite himself. 

Steve blushes from the tips of his ears down past his collar and Bucky wonders just how far down that blush goes. “It doesn’t have to be. Unless you want it to be one. I had a really great time, regardless. I don’t get out mu-”

“Steve!” Bucky cuts him off, waving his hand in surrender. “Breathe a minute so I can answer.” he pauses and Steve takes a slightly dramatic breath, shooting Bucky a wry smile. “There we go. I had a really great time too. And yes, I’d like it if this was a date. And if there are more dates following this one.” 

“Oh,” Steve is rendered speechless by the warmth blossoming in his chest. “That would be swell.” 

“Swell? Really?” Bucky laughs in disbelief. 

Steve’s blush flares to life again. “Sorry, sorry. Old man word, I know. What are the kids using these days? Nifty?” 

Bucky groans, “Cool, Steve. Just stick with cool.” 

“Okay, cool.” Steve sasses playfully. 

Bucky rolls his eyes before checking his watch. It’s almost time to go get Becca, they had spent two hours talking and it still feels like not enough time. “Shit. I gotta head out for Becca. Preschool lets out at three.” 

“Not a problem, I’d say I’m sorry for keeping you so long but I really enjoyed myself.” Steve snatches the paper slip with their bill on it and hurries over to the counter to pay. “You were right, so lunch is on me.” he insists.

“That’ll teach you not to bet against me, huh?” Bucky quips.

“I don’t know. This worked out pretty well for me. I learned a lot of new stuff, broadened my perspective on some things, went out with a cute guy, ate the best pizza in Brooklyn, and it sounds like I’ll get to go out with that cute guy again. I think this turned out pretty good.” 

Bucky laughs and gives him a playful shove as they leave the pizza shop together. They pause along the brick wall of the shop, neither man wanting to part ways just yet. “I don’t have off rotation for another three days but I’d like to see you again.” Bucky says, toying with the hem of his shirt. He feels like a damn teenager again. 

“Whenever you want, Bucky. My schedule is flexible unless I get called away for a long mission. I’ll take whatever time you’re willing to share with me.” Steve doesn’t want to push, but he’s willing to do whatever he needs to in order to see Bucky again. 

“I appreciate that. I know my schedule isn’t traditional but it’s my life for right now.” 

“And that’s okay.” Steve assures him, though he looks pretty nervous suddenly. He clears his throat twice before he finally asks, “Would it be too fast if I asked to kiss you right now?” 

Bucky’s pupils flare at the question, his reaction answering Steve before his voice does. “Not at all.” he murmurs moving closer to Steve.

Steve’s lips are a breath away from Bucky’s as he whispers “Oh good” and takes the kiss that Bucky so freely gives. Steve fights for composure, they’re on a public sidewalk for heaven’s sake. Bucky’s mouth slots against his like missing puzzle pieces, both warm and insistent as the kiss deepens. 

Steve kisses like he’s drowning and Bucky is reeling to keep up. How something so innocent turned so quickly is beyond comprehension but Bucky doesn’t want it to stop. The alarm on his phone reminding him it’s pick up time for Becca ends things quickly though. “I’ve gotta get Becca. Like, now.” he breathes raggedly against Steve’s mouth. 

“Okay. Okay.” Steve repeats like he’s convincing himself. “To be continued?” 

“To be continued.” Bucky agrees, leaning in for one last quick peck and then heading off to go pick up Becca.

[lightskinrry]

I can’t remember why I loved you, anyway.

The one where Harry and Y/N broke up two years ago and have to spend a vacation together in the Hamptons except they’re not over each other yet, and they both have new S/O’s

Word Count: 3.4k

TW: angst??? fluff??? honestly I really don’t know

A/N: this was a concept i thought about for days and then i sent it to @emotionally-imbruised and she said ‘write it’ and i did???????? (thank you lovely!!)

and thanks to @belladonna-styles for reading it over! You’re the sweetest, Sierra!!! (i love you)

It has been two years. Two whole years since the two of you decided that it was better to go separate ways. When you thought about it, the truth was that it has been two years since the person you loved most in this whole goddamn world turned into the person you hate the most.

The breakup has been hard. It was like running a mile to never make it. A long run of three years of love, passion, tenderness, dreams and future plans turned to ashes. It all collapsed one night. Actually, it took more time. It started in the run of your second year together, when he would be so busy that the only nights you’d spend with him he’d keep talking about work. When you would feel lonely in his presence and won’t even laugh at his stupid jokes. When he started being suspicious of you coming in late knowing there were nights he wouldn’t come home at all.

The third year of your shared love has just been the same stupid fight over and over again. You missed the simpler times… The times when you would do all the crazy things young people in love do. Giving each other a tattoo – he might have started hating you when he discovered your initials on his left butt cheek on a hungover morning. Singing, naked in the rain in the garden – all the love you’ve made and the terrible cold you’d got after. Crashing stranger’s wedding – the first time was an accident, it was when you met him; that night at your friend’s wedding in Hawaii. He was wearing a white suit – who wears white at a wedding? He did. And he was beautiful in it. That night you two became friends; strangely you had a lot in common; from your favorite bands to which Friends character you hated most – Ross, of course.

That night you two got so drunk that you danced on the kids’ table to the Pina Colada song.

And since then, it was your favorite song. Every time you’d hear it, the two of you would start dancing like that night in Hawaii. And he even mentioned once that it would be the song you two first dance at your wedding.

It was on the last night of November that you packed your bags. You spent the entire month sleeping alone. And he wasn’t even on tour. You couldn’t tell if you trusted him anymore and the gut feeling that he was seeing someone else was torturing you.

Every time he would touch you, it would burn your skin because your brain would only picture his fingertips on somebody else’s skin. He came home that night as if he felt that you would leave. And the storm that ravaged your shared home in that cold night of November was one worthy of those Sunday afternoons’ TV drama.

You told him how you felt –your gut feeling, your frustration, your sadness, how you missed him, how you couldn’t pretend anymore. And his stupid self and his incapability to respond and communicate his feelings just let you go. And that’s when you started hating him.

Probably to cover the hurt of feeling like he just never cared. That, you leaving was not important enough that he would try and better himself and overcome his insecurities. He just let you go. And your stupid brain came up with the answer that he didn’t care because he had someone else this whole time. Maybe he did. But it was better if you never knew.

Two years passed. Your life was back on track quickly. You started dating again, finding joy and doing fun things you used to do with him with other friends. The only thing that reminded you of your time together was that you shared common best friends. Your circle survived the split but it would continuously be hard for them not to see you together.

The resentment you both held for each other made you be mean and cruel to each other and on a common agreement you decided that you would avoid each other. If your shared friends were going for a movie and he was there, you wouldn’t go. But the next outing you’d be there and he would ditch. It worked well for you both. You wouldn’t see each other, hear each other or know about each other and everything would be good.

Your friends always said that it was stupid and that you two needed to grow up because it wasn’t nice being in between the both of you. But you knew it was just better. His face reminded you his –supposed– betrayal and being in the same room as him made you just nauseous.

You’ve been lucky enough that the last time your friends gathered together for a paintball party, he’s the one who went, because next weekend your little crew and yourself would be spending four days in the Hamptons in Jeff’s house.

You definitely needed that trip. You’ve been working like crazy those last weeks and spending some time with your friends was exactly what you needed. And it would be a great time to introduce them to your new girlfriend. She was indeed very new; you’ve only been dating for a month.

You have spent the last year going on unofficial dates with whoever you could find in the damn city just to meet her one night at an art exhibition in Brooklyn. She painted something abstract reminding you strangely of a vulva.

When you invited her for a coffee, you talked for hours, mostly about feminism and LGBTQ+ rights because the both of you were activists. She felt comfortable enough to tell you about her transition and how her gender identity always influenced her art. And you quoted the just stoked her hand tenderly to answer the worry in her eyes when she told you she was transgender. She sighed in relief and raised her hand in the air to call the waiter to bring more drinks!

You started seeing each other frequently enough and called your little encounters ‘dates’, and you knew it was the right time to introduce her to your friends.  

***

You arrived late at the house, you were pretty much always late, and it was a personality trait at this point. You left your bags in the foyer and closed the door behind you. You could hear laughing and chats coming from the living room. You looked at Danny, your lovely girlfriend who for once seemed insecure and anxious.

“Hey…” You pressed your hands on her shoulders. “It’s going to be okay. They’re cool. I’m sure they’ll like you.”

She took a deep breath and you stroke her cheek with your fingers.

“C’mon, give me a smile, love.” She gave you a tiny smile and kissed your finger. You took off your coat and hers and placed it on the hanger. You grabbed her hand and walked in the living room.

“Your favorite bitch is here!” Your voice resonated in the room. And when you laid eyes on the table where your friends were sitting, you missed a heartbeat.

Harry was sitting there, his fingers intertwined with the beautiful woman sitting next to him. He was laughing out loud but when your voice reached his ears, his smile disappeared. His hair was so short and you remember that when you left him, it was longer than yours. Now it was short and you could see his jawline clench as he looked at you.

“Y/N!” Jeff got up and came towards you. The look on your face clearly read discontent. “Always late, our favorite bitch, huh?”

You looked at him and sighed. “What is he doing here?”

You couldn’t help but be mad and seeing Harry here just threw you off, you even forgot to introduce Danny.

“What is she doing here?” Harry got up and in a moment of coordinated rage, you both gave the darkest look to your friends.

Glenne stood up and laughed nervously. “Surprise!”

“Are you kidding me right now?” You looked over at her and your hissing tone made her scratch her head. Sarah got up.

“We thought it would be a good idea to spend a real vacation all together. We have been torn apart since you two…”

“That’s a prank, right?” You cut Sarah off.

“Look guys. Stop acting like fucking children. We’re not gonna babysit you. You’re both over it, aren’t you?”

Mitch’s words made you realize Danny’s presence and you looked over at her and the confusion on her face made you feel stupid.

“Look, it’s a bad idea….” Harry started talking. You grabbed Danny’s hand again and cut him off.

“It’s a great idea actually. We’re both over it, aren’t we, Harry?” You addressed him with a sneaky smile.

“Anyway. There’s someone I’d like to introduce y’all to.” You raised yours and Danny’s intertwined hands.

Your friends gave you a weird look for a second, certainly because you didn’t mention you were bringing a plus one; you wanted it to be a surprise. And apparently this vacation was going to be, for the least… Surprising.

Jeff, Glenne, Sarah, Mitch, Adam and Emi all smiled kindly to you and your new friend.

“This is Danny. Danny this is the gang.”

You laughed and Danny shook everyone’s hand. Harry’s expression was… Well you couldn’t quite figure it out.

He shook her hand with a smile and welcomed her warmly. He introduced himself and Danny told him she was a big fan, something she didn’t mention to you before, probably because you never brought Harry up in the conversation anyway. He gave you a tease look when your girlfriend mentioned she liked him. It was a bit ironic, wasn’t it?

He introduced the woman he was with. Rosie. Boring name you thought to yourself.

“Pleased to meet you, I’m Y/N. If you want my piece of advice; run away now.” You gave Harry a teasing smile before sitting down at the table.

The weekend was going to be long…

***

The first two days were atrocious. You and Harry fought over everything; from where to eat to whether or not the Brexit was going to happen.

Funnily enough you always had similar political views, but you just needed to get your frustration with him on something and his naïve thought over happy ending Brexit pissed you off.

“No, I want to believe it won’t happen. That we are going to be smarter you know. It has been postponed so many times, it might be cancelled as well.”

He always was too optimistic over the most fucked up things.

“It’s going to happen. Get that in your mind. It’s in the process and they refused the second referendum.” Your tone was so dry; it probably stripped him away.

Whether it was political discourse or the most mundane things, he would be a pest about it.

For instance, when he made pancakes for brunch on the third day –god knows his pancakes were always delicious.

You woke up late, per usual and came down to the kitchen to see all your friends sat at the huge wooden table.

“Oh, smells nice!” You looked over the table and saw a huge pile of pancakes.

“Harry made them! His pancakes are delicious!”

Rosie’s voice would irritate you more than Harry’s sometimes. After all, her high pitch and long blonde hair and her soft manners and ugh…

Of course his pancakes were delicious, you would know better than her. You’ve eaten those pancakes every morning for three goddamn years.

You didn’t say a word and grabbed a plate, and right before you took some pancakes, you heard his voice. “You could thank me. I mean you come down late and find brunch ready, so you could at least thank me.”

“God, are you gonna curse them pancakes if I don’t thank you for doing something I never asked you to do?” You sighed as you put down your plate.

He opened his mouth to talk but you cut him off.

“You know what? I won’t risk food poisoning. I’m getting cereal.” You made your way to the shelf and grabbed a bowl. You could tell everybody was uncomfortable and you heard Harry mumbling, “Still a drama queen.”

“A drama queen? Say the guy who threw a tantrum because we decided to eat Italian instead of Chinese?”

Last night you’ve fought over where to eat, his take was Chinese food, yours was Italian food and your argument won over the assembly. Harry acted all fussed and reluctantly came to the restaurant not to speak a word to anybody except Rosie the whole evening.

“Are you kidding me? You were the one who decided to argue!” He got up from his chair. “You’re a pain in the ass, Y/N!”

“Says who? Mister I can’t fucking admit I was wrong? Mister I must have the final say in everything? The guy who can’t form a coherent argument in a discourse? Please! The only pain here is your lack of conversation!”

You looked over at Rosie. “I can tell you’re bored honey, feel free to leave him, he’s really not worth it.”

Harry’s face became all red and he furrowed his eyebrows; as he was about to spat words, Jeff cut him in his track.

“I’m done with your bullshit! You have been the most obnoxious people for the past three days!”

Everybody agreed loudly with Jeff. They were just fed up with the two of you constantly fighting.

Sarah got up and left the kitchen. You felt guilty for making your friends so uncomfortable and annoyed. You hissed at Harry and he rolled his eyes at you.

Sarah came back down. She took two chairs from underneath the table and placed them in the middle of the room, only a few inches from each other and facing each other.

She pointed at you. “Sit.” She pointed to the first chair. She held one hand behind her back. She ordered Harry to sit in front of you. He reluctantly sat on the chair. You didn’t look at him.

“Your hands.” Sarah’s voice was very directive despite her natural tenderness.

“What?” You asked; your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Give me your hand. No questions.”

You gave her your hand and Harry reached out his too. You both were very confused. It’s only when she pulled out the handcuffs from behind her back that you realized what was happening.

“Oh hell no!” You tried to argue but your hand was already cuffed with Harry’s.

“Please. This is not funny, Sarah…” Harry’s voice sounded so desperate, it got a giggle out of you.

“This is not supposed to be funny. This is supposed to be a punishment. I’m done with you two being little pests to each other.”

Mitch sat down, and ate his cut fruit like popcorn, a smile on the corner of his lips. “Well done, baby.” Sarah smiled at him.

“What do you expect us to do?” You looked over at everyone and everybody seemed to be very much okay with the situation. You deserved it.

Glenne spoke up, “You’re going to be nice to each other, and let us have our last day of vacation in peace.”

Adam chortled and sat down next to Mitch, he cleared his throat before talking, “Say something nice to each other.”

“What for?” You snapped and Sarah gave you a dark look.

“Say something nice, Y/N, now.”

Strangely her tone made you want to do as she says…

Dom vibe.You thought to yourself and you gave her a promiscuous look.

“Fine, I’ll say something nice.” You sighed loudly and then took a look at Harry who shared a handcuff with you, slightly reminding you of a similar situation the two of you played in the past.

You thought for a second and came up with something basic. “Your haircut is nice.”

Harry raised his eyebrow at you. “Thanks? You look good today.”

Jeff hissed, “Are you guys serious? Dig deeper.”

“What do you want me to say?” Harry threw his head back in disbelief.

“I can’t even remember why I loved you, anyway.” Your voice was low, it seemed that nobody heard you but you caught Harry’s sight and an odd gloomy look on his face.

“Say something you like about her!” Jeff tilted his head over to me to pressure Harry.

“Fine…” He sighed and crumpled his eyebrows in concentration, trying to come up with something that would be good enough to set us free.

“I like your smile. It’s contagious. It never failed to make me smile.” He looked at you for a second and you felt your heart sank, when was the last time you made him smile?

“Your turn Y/N.”

You thought for a moment and when your eyes met Harry’s, you felt out of breath.

“Your eyes have always been one of my favorite things about you. They’re deep and kind. They’re comforting. And I always felt safe and beautiful in them.”

You realized you shared too much when a smile appeared on Harry’s face. You rolled your eyes at him and sighed.

“Good. Good. Harry?” Jeff played the referee here.

“You have…” He breathed for a moment. “Really pretty lips. They’re soft and… I love the shade of red you wear.”

He couldn’t look at you in the eyes and neither could you. You knew it was a difficult exercise for him, he’s never been really good with spoken words; he was always better at writing them.

The crowd in the room looked at you to let you know it was your turn. Sarah added softly “Less shallow, maybe?” You mocked a laugh at her and turned your head to Harry.

“You’ve always been a great listener. You don’t talk much but you know how to listen, you’re attentive and it’s something I’ve always liked about you.”

Harry let out a giggle. “Thanks.” He took a long gaze at your face.

“You’re very passionate. I mean… When you’re into something, you give your all. That’s why I always loved listening to you because you talk with passion and knowledge. You’re the smartest person I know.”

You fought a smile. He was always good at complimenting, wasn’t he?

“You’re one of the most talented people I know. It’s amazing how much work and love you put in your music. It always baffles me that you’re so lyrically smart. For someone who isn’t too keen on communication, your lyrics always talked to me in a way nobody did.”

He grinned widely but before he could thank you, you added a word.

“Oh, and you have the voice of an angel. When you sing and when you talk. It’s soothing. It sounds familiar… Like home.”

He didn’t say a word for a moment, staring at you with a fond smile.

“Your laugh always made me happy. It’s like a serotonin shot. My favorite thing was…”

He thought for a second, wondering if he should keep going.

“It was when we would kiss and you’d laugh nervously, pulling away because you always thought you were a terrible kisser… I mean you are…”

He laughed before continuing,

“You’re not…”

He looked at you.

“I loved kissing you and feeling you laugh against my lips. It was always my favorite thing.”

You felt your heart beat a million times faster. The more you looked at him, the more you remembered why you were so in love with him.

“I loved it too.” You whispered so that only him could hear you.

You felt his fingertips stroke the back of your hand, and you shivered at his touch, realizing how much you missed it, how much you missed him…

“Okay. Game’s over.” Rosie fake laughed a little bit, getting up and asked Sarah to open the handcuffs.

Sarah understood the discomfort Rosie was facing so she set you free. You got up and kept your eyes focus on the ground. You couldn’t even look at Danny.

Harry breathed loudly. The room was silent; the most uncomfortable silence, actually.

You cleared your throat before speaking up, “How about we spend the day at the lake?”

Adam cheered loudly to release the tension, “Yes!! That’s a great idea!”

Emi supported the idea too and when everybody agreed, you all left the kitchen.

Your eyes met Harry’s for a second and you felt your heart sank again.

You remembered exactly why you loved him. Maybe why you still loved him.

[imagine-darksiders]

How bout a lil scenario with the horsemen getting up at night instead of their s/o to calm their fussing child?

Xx

Strife: It wasmostly upon his insistence that you had the baby’s cot in your bedroom. Youknew Strife had some underlying separation anxiety when it came to you, but didn’t think it would extend to your one-year old daughter as well. She wasn’t even his, but apparently that mattered little to the sharpshooting horseman.

It was around midnight when the ambulance drove past, sirens blaring and bright, blue lights piercing the slight gap you’d left between yourcurtains. While it hadn’t woken you up, the same could not be said for your daughter,nor the horseman laying in bed beside you. At the first sound of her distressed whimper, Strife’s eyes snap open, glowing vivid yellow in the pitch-black and he lifts his head to glance across the room, staring attentively at his newcharge’s cot.  

In another moment, he’s skilfullyextracted himself from the duvet and slipped out of bed, almost tripping over his armour scattered about on the floor as he pads softly towards the baby, leaning over the side and grinning down at her. “Hey there, small fry,” he coos, using the affectionate nickname he learned from one of your friends, “That Earthautomobile woke you up too, huh?”

In response, she screws up her face to convey immense displeasure.

“Yeah, I thought it might’ve,” he murmurs.

Another hum that usually precedes a crying fit works its way out of her mouth and behind him, you roll over, beginning to stir. Quick as a flash, Strife reaches into the cot and gathers the baby up into his arms, blanket and all. 

This is a moment in his life he hadn’t realised he would come to cherish so much. He’s a horseman of the apocalypse, playing life fast and loose. He likes guns, hunting demons, galloping at full tilt across a grassy plainwith you clinging to his back and whooping delightedly at the dangerous speeds.And now, apparently, he likes the feeling of holding your child in his arms too.So much for his reputation.

“Hey now,” he murmurs, “No crying, Y/n’s trying to sleep.”

He’d never had to exercise such gentility with any creature before, even the humans at the maker tree hadn’t been this fragile. Still, tosee him interact with a human infant, one would think he’d been around childrenall his life. With a hand on her back and the other supporting her rump, the horseman copies what he’s seen you do a hundred times. He wanders aimlessly around the bedroom, alternating between stroking her back and bouncing her gently on his palm. ‘This would be so much easier if I was still Jones,’ helaments. If ‘Jones’ dropped a baby, it wouldn’t have as far to fall. If she’s dropped by a horseman who exceeds seven feet however….Strife stops that train of thought it its tracks, shuddering. It took a lot of assurance from you before he trusted himself with holding something so precious.

Tiny fingers stretch up determinedly to feel the stubble growing on his chin and he tucks it in to look down at her, his luminous, yelloweyes softening under her contented gaze.

Even long after she falls asleep against his chest, the horseman cradles her to him, only putting her back into her cot when you awake and tell him to.

 War: Crying - The sound he’d come to dread – not because he finds it irksome – but because his mind immediately jumps to the worst possible scenario. Most interactions he’s hadwith humans has led him to believe that when they cry, they’re either afraid or they’re in pain. Both of these concepts with regards to the baby human down the hall send him into a near frenzy and it’s all he can do to restrain himself from tearing through your walls to get to them faster.

“The baby’s fine, War,” you mumble into your pillow as he heaves himself up from the bed and the springs give an audible sigh, relievedat the loss of his immense girth. You know there’s little point in trying to convince him that; Yes, sometimes babies do wake up and cry during the night, and typically return to sleep after ten minutes or so. However, nothing short of a nuclear explosion could stop the overprotective horseman from checking the entire house for demons. So, letting out a heavy sigh, you roll over and let him get on with it.

A low rumble makes its way up his throat as he enters the darkened room just across the hall, dazzling blue eyes sweeping left and right for any sign of an intruder. Once he’s satisfied that the vicinity is clear, he tromps over to the baby’s cot, looming over it like a monumental juggernaut, snowy-white eyebrows furrowed in their typical fashion.

And as per usual, the baby inside takes one look at his glowering, grim visage and immediately stops crying, it’s face splitting into a clumsy grin and it raises its arms into the air towards him.

Personally, War would love to know at what point he stopped being intimidating to human younglings and started to become amusing.

With a gruff sigh, he drops a hand into the cot and gently works his armoured fingers underneath the baby, scooping it far too easily up into his gauntlet, marvelling that such a tiny thing can fit in the palm of his hand. Sometimes, a gruesome thought creeps up on him and he realises that it would take no more than a mere flex to end the precious life-force.

The moment he lifts it up to his face, the baby’s arm flies out and it grasps a fistful of his white-blonde hair, tugging on it whilst staring up into his eyes, transfixed by the unusual, otherworldly shine. 

After some time spent simply observing each other under the glow of the nightlight, the babystarts to squirm, kicking out with its stubby legs and gurgling noisily.

It’s strong. Well, as strong as a human can be in it’s first year of life, and War finds his lips trying to lift in a fond smile. He quickly schools his face back to its neutral expression though and instead, gives the baby an accusing glare, informing it, “You are too small,” as if it’s the baby’s fault that it’s so helpless.

Unexpectedly, it gives another hard kick and lets go of his hair, only to tip forward and clumsily curls its fingers around the tip of hisnose.

Consequentially, the horseman freezes, his eyes slowly growing wide.

Suddenly mesmerised, it’s his turn to watch as it gurgles and croons, stroking down his nose to pat his upper lip and let out a happy squeak as he peels them back to show off his sharpened canines. War huffs a gust of air from his nose, amused at the little human’s courage. 

Your genes, no doubt.

Fury: “The baby’s crying.”

Fury rolls over, untangling herself from your arms to grab a pillow and stuff it over her head, only to receive a sharp jab in the back.

“Fury, the baby’s crying,” you repeat groggily, a little louder, “Can you go check on him?”

Grumbling into the mattress, she replies, “Why should I have to go?”

“Because I’ve been the past seven times.”

“Well, you made it.”

For her trouble, she earns herself an almighty kick to her back. You stubbornly keep the pressure up, pressing your feet into her spineand slowly managing to slide her towards the edge of the bed. Valiantly, she digs her heels in, but can’t find any purchase and before long, she lets out a loud snarl and relents. “Ugh, very well!” And with that, she throws the covers off and swings her legs out, muttering grumpilyabout giving the baby ‘something toreally cry about.’

You’ve learnt by now that with Fury, you can’t take everything she says too seriously. She’s gruff, certainly. But you’re all too aware that when your baby is with her, it becomes the safest baby in the universe, and she’d nomore harm him than she would harm you. The horseman hadn’t meant to fall in love with a human, much less a pregnant human in the maker’s tree, but after you all went through the reflecting pool and she helped you deliver the tiny thing, she hadn’t really been able to avoidit.

Fury doesn’t know who the father is, you’ve never really told her. However, you did say that the baby looked nothing like him, and youseemed rather glad about it, so she didn’t ask.

As soon as she leaves the room and is no longer under your gaze, her face morphs from agitated to worried in a matter of seconds, and if her feet carried her a little bit quicker towards the nursery, she would later deny it.

Pushing open the little door and entering, she immediately spots the source of all the crying.

Your son – ‘Our son,’ she reminds herself – has stood up in the cot and is clinging to the frame, his legs quivering with the effort of keepinghimself upright. Large, round eyes peer up at her as she approaches, though his cries only quiet down somewhat whereas the tears continue to stream ceaselessly down his rosy cheeks.

“What’s wrong with you this time?” she sighs, feigning boredom whilst checking behind the door, then striding over to the wardrobe andthrowing it open, moving several hanging clothes aside to see if anyone has concealed themselves right at the back. All the while, the child watches her curiously until she finishes doing a sweep and eventually turns her attention onto him just in time to see him plonk back down onto his blanket.

Shaking her head, she stubbornly forces the amused smirk off her face and stalks over to him. “You are perhaps the most vocal human I’ve ever known, crying and complaining about nothing. Honestly, you’re worse than the Watche-... “ Fury hesitates, swallowing thickly as he cocks his head, wondering why she suddenly froze above his cot, her grip on the rail tightening until her knuckles turn even paler. “- Worse than Envy, I mean...” she corrects herself after a moment too long of silence.

Refocusing on the child, Fury realises that he’s tipped his head down and is gazing at her feet through the bars. Cocking an eyebrow, sheglances down, following his line of sight and lets out a subdued chuckle when she sees the cause of all his fuss.

“Ah, and therein lies the problem.” 

Resting just a few inches to her right is a tiny, stuffed horse. Its coat is black as night, rendering it almost lost in the darkness of the nursery. There’s also a tail and mane that had once been stark white, but following an incident with a blue sock in the washing machine, are now a soft, baby blue.

Fury had wanted to laugh and weep at the irony, even more so when the horse became your baby’s favoured toy.

“Is this what you’re after?” she asks needlessly, bending down to retrieve the toy and holding it over the cot. In seconds, his eyes light up and he coos warmly, lifting one, chubby arm into the air and making a grabbing motion with his hand.

Sharp, pale eyes softening ever so slightly, Fury allows a thumb to stroke gently over the horse’s mane before she blinks, remembering herselfand passing the toy down to the baby, who takes it off her and crushes it against his chest. 

At last, Fury’s lips twitch into a genuine smile and she leaves it there, too distracted by the sight before her. 

Filled with an abrupt swell of affection, she reaches down and places a hand gently on top of the child’s head, smoothing his hair back and guiding him til he’s lying on his back again with the horse on his chest. Then, pulling the blanket up to cover him, Fury takes a second to simply remain leaned over the cot, eyes locked in the gaze of the most innocent life she’d ever beheld.

“Who gave you permission to touch this heart of mine?” she breathes, “Hmm?”

She only returned to your shared bedroom much later, once your son had finally dropped off to sleep.

Death: The eldest horseman doesn’t sleep. Never has, likely never will. That isn’t to say he won’t spend long nights laying on his back and gazing up at the glow in the dark stars on your ceiling whilst you sleep peacefully beside him.

Peaceful….Death’s life has been anything but.

Then, along came a human and a baby to offer him a port in the storm and just like that, he’d known a modicum of peace.

Although not tonight, evidently. He knew the baby was about to cry even before the sound reached his ears, a long-forgotten instinct buried deep in his psyche that hadn’t surfaced since his younger siblings left their own stages of infancy.

Of course, no sooner had the sound slipped underneath the bedroom door, you lift your head from the pillow, taking in a deep breath and mumbling, “M’on it…”

Your attempts to roll out of bed are thwarted however by the horseman, who wraps his fingers over your shoulder and pushes you back down.

“You need to rest,” he rumbles softly, “I’ll see to it.”

Without waiting for you to offer a groggy argument, he rises from the bed and as soon as he vacates his pillow, a large, black mass offeathers flutters down off the headboard and lands on the soft surface.

“Dust,” he sighs, “Don’t get too comfortable, I’ll be returning shortly.”  

Absently, you stretch an arm across the bed and scratch a few fingers over the crow’s chest. “Hmm, hey boy,” you mumble. The crow shootsDeath an insufferably smug look, as if to say, ‘My bed now,’ and settles himself down on the pillow, warbling gently at the attention you’re giving him.

Death, meanwhile, simply harrumphs, spinning on his heel and slipping quietly from the room, making a bee line for the little door adjacentto your own. Quiet as a ghost, he pushes it open and steps inside, raising a hand to conjure a ball of light only to pause when he remembers that humans invented a nifty little thing called ‘electricity.’ Sighing, he lowers his hand andinstead flips the switch on a lamp as he passes, bathing the room in a soft, pink glow.

The sound of crying becomes more urgent, so he wastes no more time in prowling up to the cot. Stopping beside it, he gazes down at thetiny life nestled within a pile of blankets.

Eyes golden and orange as wildfires meet the watery blue of a tiny, human girl, barely out of her first year of life and already too curious for her own good, just like you – a fact that unsettles Death somewhat. He has a hard-enough time keeping you out of danger that seemed to consistently find you. And now, with a baby thrown into the mix, his job has just gotten a whole lot more complicated. Privately, Death dreads her learning how to walk, or generally moving at any speed faster than a crawl where he can’t simply snatch her off the ground and out of trouble.

An incomprehensible murmur draws his attention back to the baby and when he looks, he realises she still hasn’t moved. Forever and a day the horseman would wonder why she calms down when he’s in the room. Death isn’texactly a calming influence. She doesn’t seem to be afraid of him, incredibly. Maybe she’s curious about his mask, wondering if its actually his real face. Or she could be curious as to why this strange, cold-skinned man had suddenly started to appear in her life in the place of her other parent, the one who’ddisappeared one day without any warning. Then again, perhaps she – like several other children he’s met in his time – can sense that, when it comes to babies, Death is something of a soft touch.

Muttering a soft apology for the temperature of his hands, the horseman scoops her up, ensuring he brings the blanket along too, and holds her to his chest.

‘She used to love hearing my partner’s heartbeat,’ you told him when you first introduced him to her, ‘It would send her right off to sleep.’

For the first time, suddenly Death knew the sting of inadequacy. No heart beats in his chest, but he’d soon learned of other ways tosoothe a human infant. Her chubby fingers latch onto his cowl and hold fast as he uses the back of his knuckles to rub carefully up and down her fragile back.

It’s been untold millennia, and he’d forgotten how much he missed this.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Ten: High Class ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Hyūga Hiashi, Uchiha Fugaku] [ SasuHina, vulgarity, alcohol ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

She’s always hated gatherings like this. High class shmooze fests of elbow-rubbing and ego-stroking.

No wonder her father loves them.

After all, he’s been on the city council for ten years running, now. There’s no one of importance in this city that he doesn���t know...or at least know of. He keeps tabs on everything, if only because he wants to have a hand in every pot.

Hinata’s not the sort to care about money or power. All she’s ever wanted was a simple, run-of-the-mill life. But Hiashi’s influence and public image meant having to have perfect daughters. And perfect daughters go to private schools and join clubs and run for student council, just like dear ol’ dad.

All she’s ever dreamed about is working in a little floral shop where she can be surrounded by flowers and plants and soil all day long. It doesn’t have to pay well. It doesn’t have to go anywhere. She just wants to pour her heart into her passion.

Why can’t he understand that…?

School, at least, let her join the garden club every Spring. She even took a few horticulture classes. But now that she’s on her way to college this coming Autumn (or...so she’s told), Hiashi is taking a far more commanding role in her education. Business, he advises. Create a career, like he did! Let the money and employment hierarchy take you to great heights!

Psh...yeah right. And become a soul-sucking agent of greed like he is? She’d rather leap off the balcony.

All this she mulls over in silence, standing and hardly listening as Hiashi woos a small gaggle of donors. This particular event is one to help fundraise the local police and other emergency services: firefighters, EMTs, and...whatever else. In all honesty, she hasn’t been paying a lick of attention...because she knows what this all really is. Campaigning, bribing, putting the right people in the right spotlights. It’s not about the fundraiser’s target, it’s about the people who fund it. These do-gooding people putting their money where their mouths are.

...yeah, right. They just want an image boost. They want voters to like them, to like the causes they stand for...all to keep lining their pockets.

“Ah, there he is! One of our men of the hour. Fugaku, how are you?”

Dragging herself from her reverie, Hinata looks up as a group of four people approach. One she knows as the chief of police, Fugaku Uchiha. Someone her father doesn’t always agree with, but does his best to be on good terms with. The police are quintessential, after all. Beside him, all smiles and beauty, is his wife Mikoto. The only genuine person in this room, as far as Hinata is concerned. While this event is catered by those self-serving, she puts on at least one a month that benefits real organizations in their city - not anything politically aligned.

She’s the only reason Hinata has any hope for things like this...and any inclination to follow in one’s footsteps, if they could be hers.

Bringing up the rear are their two sons. The elder by five years, Itachi, is still in college to her knowledge. Admittedly, she doesn’t know his major. They rarely speak beyond the expected pleasant small talk.

The younger, Hinata’s own age, is Sasuke. A bit of am enigma. She knows so little about him, and his cool, aloof attitude means rarely getting any glimpses. The only one he seems to converse with to any real degree at these galas is his brother.

The pair, as far as she knows, are rather close knit.

Rather...unlike the Hyūga sisters. Hanabi isn’t even here.

Giving Hiashi a rugged smile, Fugaku claps him on the back. “Oh, hanging in there. Our city never sleeps, after all...and neither do we.”

“True, very true...but I’m glad you could spare yourself for one night to help herald your cause!”

From there, the two enter a spiel about the police and other city services that - to Hinata’s practiced ear - is so clearly rehearsed it makes her eyes roll as she turns aside. With her father far too absorbed to mind her, she simply excuses herself to get another drink. She’s not yet old enough to have any spirits, but...well, there’s a few plain options to be had. Swiping a soda, she decides to find that balcony she was thinking of earlier.

The summer evening is waning, city lights replacing sun as it sinks behind the horizon. Cool air breezes past her face as she leans against the railing, expression listless. She’d much rather be at home doing...anything else. Maybe trimming some of the potted plants in her room...the sun in her windows the past month or so has seen them explode in size. She might even need to repot some of them soon…

“Hey.”

Startling, she nearly drops her drink of the balcony. “Wh-?!” Heart leaping to her throat, she turns to see...Sasuke? What is he doing out here…?

“Out for some fresh air?”

...he’s just...talking to her. Why? They’ve hardly ever spoken. “I...y-yes, I...I guess so.”

“Was it that...or sparing your ears from the bullshit?”

She blanches a moment at the foul language. “...I beg your pardon?”

“C’mon, I know you could tell. I’ve seen your face at enough of these to know...especially when you think no one’s looking. You hate these things almost as much as I do.”

Still a bit tense, Hinata tries to reestablish her posture. “...they’re not my favorite things, no...great in concept. T-terrible in execution.”

“Glad someone agrees. My brother always just tells me I’m being overdramatic. That it’s just how things work. Like I was born yesterday. Cops’re supposed to uphold the law, and protect their citizenry. Not…” A hand gestures back behind them. “...this. Sitting all pretty and obedient like a dog for anyone that’ll throw money their way like a bone. I hate it…”

“...my father’s the same way. It’s all about money, appearances, i-influence…” Why is she telling him this? “...I just want to have a nice, calm little job...a little apartment...and mind my own business. Not...anything like this.”

“Exactly! I dunno how these people can stand themselves. Cuz I sure can’t.”

Unbidden, she looses a snort, failing to catch it in a palm. That was rude...but… “I don’t know...but it’s unfortunate.”

“Honestly m’tempted to just...leave. My dad won’t even notice until he realizes one of his props is gone.”

...she...never considered that. Just leave? Could they…? “...how m-mad do you think he’d be?”

“I don’t care. I’m tired of this. Tired of drowning in cologne, and hearing all the boasting, and seeing all these gloating faces.”

Hinata mulls that over. “...did you drive here…?”

“Nah, we all rode in together. Doesn’t mean I can’t take a cab, or just go for a walk.” Sasuke gives her a glance. “...feel like tagging along?”

Teeth nibble her lip, glancing back toward her father. He’s still hamming it up with the rest of the Uchiha. She’s going to get in so much trouble for this… “...okay.”

Doing their best to look nonchalant, the pair move to the elevators, taking one down to ground level. From there, they just...walk.

Of course, Hinata’s wearing two inch heels...not a killer, but not fun to take very far, either. They’re right in the middle of downtown, too. “So...where are we going?”

“Anywhere. Feel like doing anything in particular?”

“Um…” Looking around, a Starbucks catches her eye. “...want some coffee?”

“...eh, sure. Why not?”

The pair are...very overdressed for it, and the stares they get only prove it. But they take a table and just sit.

Sipping her mocha frappe, Hinata watches the street through the window. This is...oddly liberating. She’s still a little nervous - she very rarely dares to defy Hiashi, let alone this directly. But still, this is...nice.

“So...you want to head back eventually, or find a way home?”

“Well...m-maybe leaving entirely would be a bit...much.”

Nursing his own drink, Sasuke hums. “...suppose you have a point. We’ll chill here a while, then head back.”

Silence stretches for a moment. “...did you - did you really notice my face, earlier? I mean, my being annoyed?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sasuke replies bluntly, giving a snort. “Not gonna lie, watching you react every time we’re both at one of these things is the one entertainment I find.”

Her cheeks puff. “...glad to know I’m a joke.”

“Nah, not a joke. Just funny. At least you react. I’m so dead inside, I just stand there with a blank look all night.”

It’s Hinata’s turn to snort. “...that’s fair.”

For a time, the pair just...sit and chat. Nothing elaborate or meaningful. Just smalltalk. But it still makes her feel like she can understand him a bit better.

“Well...I think we’d better head back. Auction’s due to start in fifteen. They’ll definitely notice by then.”

“Yeah…” Finished with her drink, Hinata follows as they walk back toward the hosting hotel. “...that was...fun.”

“Wasn’t too bad. Definitely not the worst coffee date I’ve been on.”

Hinata jolts. “D...date?”

“Kinda was, wasn’t it?”

Well...maybe it was. She doesn’t refute it.

“Maybe we can have another sometime without all this hanging over us, huh?”

Is...is he asking her on a date? “...I, um...sure…?”

“Cool.”

...well that was easy.

They ascend back up, finding the party just as they left it. Their fathers have separated, but neither seem aggravated...yet.

“Well, see y’around, Hinata.”

“Yeah, um...you too. Did you…?”

“Hm?”

“Did you want my - my number? For the...for the, uh, date?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Taking down her digits, he gives a mock salute. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“...okay.” A bit...taken aback, she rejoins her father.

“Ah, there you are.”

“Sorry...went for some air.”

“That’s fine - the auction is about to being. Ready?”

“...mhm.”

                                                        .oOo.

     Another late night, blegh.      Just some modern shenanigans. I think I did one...a bit similar to this. It's getting a bit hard to remember at this point, but...hopefully no one recalls or minds xD      But uh...yeah. It's veeery late, so I'm gonna head off for the night. Thanks for reading!

[commentaryvorg]

Danganronpa V3 Commentary: Part 4.6

Be aware that this is not a blind playthrough! This will contain spoilers for the entire game, regardless of the part of the game I’m commenting on. A major focus of this commentary is to talk about all of the hints and foreshadowing of events that are going to happen and facts that are going to be revealed in the future of the story. It is emphatically not intended for someone experiencing the game for their first time.

Last time in the remainder of chapter 4’s free time, it was Issues Central, as we learned more of Maki’s mercilessly cruel backstory, then hung out with Kaito for the final time in our last chance before everything falls apart and lengthily discussed how badly he needs Shuichi to rely on him right now, since his final FTE managed to be delightfully full of his issues beneath the surface despite him not talking about himself in it at all.

Now for slightly fewer issues and slightly more plot.

*ding-dong!* *ding-dong!*

Shuichi:  (The doorbell? Is it Kaito or Maki looking for me?)

Come on, Shuichi, you should know by now that that won’t be Kaito; the doorbell didn’t ring like a million times.

But unfortunately, it’s Miu. At least Shuichi deliberately ignored all of the vulgar nonsense she spouted at him and insisted she get to the point, which is that he should go to the computer room.

Himiko’s lingering just outside the computer room door.

Himiko:  “I just remembered… how Tenko would always grab my hand and pull me along at times like this…”

Aww. She was mostly just irritated by it while Tenko was alive, but now she’s starting to appreciate that Tenko was always there for her.

Apparently all the armchairs in the computer room were brought here by Kokichi while helping Miu prepare, but where the hell did he get them from?

Kokichi:  “Doesn’t it smell like something fun is gonna happen instead?”

Nobody is here to have fun, Kokichi. Nobody except for Monokuma, and you, apparently.

Kaito:  “You always seem to show up for stuff like this. I’ve got you figured out…”

It’s a bit much for Kaito to be saying this since everyone showed up for it. I guess what he’s really getting at is the fact that Kokichi showed up for this despite having not showed up to breakfast, meaning he only cares about doing stuff as a group when it seems like something bad might happen and not to actually co-operate and escape. That’s still only Kaito having Kokichi partially figured out, though.

I’m, again, not going to quote any of the stuff Kokichi is saying to Miu, but suffice it to say that this is how he figured out he can manipulate her, and presumably how he got her to make all of the contraptions (that he’s still not telling anyone about because lol what’s escaping that’s boring let me kill two people instead).

Gonta:  “Gonta understand! Exit is in that kon-poo-ter box! So we gotta break it open and go in!?”

Oh, Gonta. He’s still trying his hardest. Of course he wouldn’t know what a computer is, let alone the concept of virtual realities.

Everyone is quite rightly suspicious of Miu’s proposal.

Miu:  “Am I… really that untrustworthy?”

I mean, yes. You’ve not shown any signs of being willing to co-operate this entire time and have been generally unpleasant to everyone. If you don’t trust everyone else, they’re not going to trust you either.

Maki:  “So it separates the consciousness from the body… If that’s possible, then… No… it’s nothing.”

It really feels like Maki’s supposed to be thinking about something interesting and relevant to her issues here, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what it could be. (If it were Kaito saying this, then that’d be one thing, but.) Any ideas are welcomed.

Gonta:  “We all gonna sleep and have same dream? That possible?”

That’s basically it, Gonta! That’s the most accurate way of describing it that uses concepts he’s familiar with. See, he’s trying his best to understand.

This also means that when he wakes up and claims to have “had strange dream”, it’s very easy to assume he’s talking about his experience of going to the Virtual World.

Himiko:  “So an avatar is another body… But I like this one. This body made my soul, and my soul made this body…”

Ha. Oh, dear. I have some bad news for you about that, Himiko.

Kokichi:  “Hey, let’s trust Miu! We should trust in our friends more anyway!”

Oh my god, Kokichi, you are so transparent every single time you do this to try and make everyone’s words along similar lines sound just as empty as yours. I’m almost glad we’re close to the point where he stops having any opportunities to do this because I’m pretty sure I’ve been sounding like a broken record about this for the past four chapters.

Kokichi:  “I mean, Monokuma created this world, right? Maybe he laid a bait to lure us in! Like… a super duper crazy secret hidden in that world!”

Kokichi is not being very subtle about the fact that he’s working with Monokuma on this.

Also, please note that Monokuma’s bait is the only reason everyone decides that it’s worth taking the risk and checking out the Virtual World. If all Kokichi wanted was to not get killed by Miu, he would have simply had to not do anything at all and nobody would have even gone inside the Virtual World to give her a chance to kill him in the first place. Miu’s plan was running under the rather idiotic assumption that everyone would trust her and believe that the Virtual World was worth checking out even if there wasn’t anything of value in there. It would never have happened at all if Kokichi hadn’t helped it along.

Shuichi:  “Kokichi… what’s going on here? Did you know this all along? That Monokuma is hiding a secret in the virtual world?”

Seems like Shuichi has picked up on Kokichi’s lack of subtlety. It’s just not possible to be sure about this until Kokichi actually admits it.

Kokichi:  “Maybe with that info, we could even put an end to this killing game.”

Gonta:  “Huh!? We can end killing game!? Then Gonta will go!”

Oh god, of course Kokichi knew exactly what to say to get Gonta to decide to go. All this stuff about virtual realities and secrets is lost on him, but ending the killing game makes perfect sense.

Keebo decides to go because his inner voice is telling him to. Yeah, they probably know something exciting and murdery is likely to happen in there, don’t they.

Keebo:  “I have always obeyed that voice, and I will continue to do so.”

He’s not even aware of how sketchy it is that he’s unquestioningly obeying this voice without even knowing where it comes from.

Kaito also makes up his mind, but for a… somewhat different reason.

Kaito:  “Call it a man’s curiosity!!!”

Maki:  “The idiot’s at it again…”

Kaito:  “Wh-When a man loses his curiosity, he ages! Curiosity is what moves a man!”

It’s actually kind of adorable (and again, not remotely inherently masculine) that Kaito also connects curiosity to his concept of manliness. Of course that’s something he has a lot of and values a lot – that’s part of why he wants to go into space, after all! – so he considers it part of his idea of “the best person you could possibly be”!

This particular instance also highlights something which has been the case most of the rest of the time too, which is that Kaito’s concept of manliness is really just a thing he has for himself. He’s not inflicting it on others and trying to insist that everyone should be showing manly curiosity right now. He’s just saying it because this is something that’s personally important to him. Just like Gonta isn’t ever trying to tell anyone else that they should be a gentleman.

Maki:  “You can stop talking now, but… I guess I’ll be an idiot too.”

Maki’s comment last chapter that she finds men talking about manliness to be gross is finally relevant to the actual situation at hand, heh.

(Even though Kaito’s concept of manliness isn’t at all gross like a lot of concepts of it can be. Subjectively annoying, maybe, and that’s clearly the only real problem Maki has with it here, but there’s absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to stay curious.)

I also like Maki just accepting that she’s going to be an idiot along with him. She’s a lot more willing to just roll with Kaito’s “idiocy” at this point. He may be an idiot, but whoops, looks like he’s her idiot now.

Shuichi:  “Kokichi… are you planning something?”

Kokichi:  “Ah-haha, of course not. After Kaito punched me, I became a changed man.”

This is proof that Kokichi knows full well that Kaito punching him was not just an act of violence and was really an attempt to get through to him and stop him doing precisely the kind of thing that he’s about to do right here. Yet Kokichi chose to completely ignore what Kaito was trying to say to him and do this anyway. He is very consciously, wilfully avoiding all possible avenues out of this that would lead to him not becoming a double murderer. So even knowing that he has reasons for doing this that aren’t him purely being evil, it’s still very hard for me to sympathise with Kokichi at all. This isn’t an unavoidable tragedy. He’s choosing this for himself.

Himiko:  “O-Okay… so I hold my chopsticks in my right hand, so…”

NO HIMIKO DON’T SAY IT. You just turned the 50/50 chance that this will be even more heartbreaking than it needs to be into a certainty.

(You can even see Gonta looking at Himiko in this illustration if you look closely.)

Chibi avatars, activate!

Kaito:  “But… it feels weird. I can move this avatar like I could my own body, right? And with this body, I don’t have to worry about all that stuff…”

I thought you said you didn’t have any worries, Kaito.

It really must feel incredibly refreshing for him to suddenly be in a body that isn’t dying on him. He’s so surprised by genuinely feeling fine that he almost lets everything slip. Perhaps it’s because this feeling is a positive one, and while Kaito has a constant, unyielding mental filter to prevent himself from unthinkingly voicing anything remotely negative about how he’s feeling, positive thoughts like this don’t get caught by that filter in the same way.

Shuichi:  “What stuff?”

Kaito:  “Uh… no, it’s nothing.”

More stuff for Shuichi to file in the “don’t think about that because that’s too worrying a truth” section of his brain.

Maki:  “…I want to go back.”

I like how this is the very first thing Maki says upon appearing here. Extremely Done Maki Roll™: now in chibi form!

Kokichi hitting Keebo to prove that their avatars feel pain is possibly done with the intent of backing up his assumption that they really will die in here if they experience pain that would have been fatal. But he’s also just taking the opportunity to be a robophobic asshole.

Kokichi:  “Even if they are avatars, I could never hit a *person*!”

Kokichi explicitly, inarguably sees Keebo as less than a person even though Keebo is clearly a person to anyone who spends ten seconds talking with him. How is everyone so okay with this.

Kokichi:  “And since it won’t leave any bruises, you can hit all you want!”

Keebo:  “That’s a bully’s twisted logic.”

Kokichi is clearly, literally a bully, how is everyone so okay with this.

Kaito:  “Information from our five senses here is sent to our real bodies… But it seems like information from our real bodies isn’t sent to our consciousness here.”

How would you know that, Kaito? It’s almost like there’s sensory information from your real body that you’re expecting to be sent to your consciousness right now.

I really, really like that this line exists to establish that Kaito’s real body is in constant pain at this point, since that’s not something Kaito would ever directly admit to but is very important information that I’m very glad we have.

Kaito:  “If that’s the case, then… it’s fine, but…”

He seems worried, probably about the possibility that his real body could be getting even worse while he’s here without him being able to know or do anything about it. What if his body involuntarily coughed up blood while he’s in here and everyone woke up to see him covered in it? That would be unacceptable.

Fun fact: the assets used for the chibi avatars in game aren’t actually 3D models but are just a series of flat sprites and animations made out of 3D models turned to different angles. I know this because they just mirrored Kaito again rather than giving him different ones for each side. Also, perhaps even more noticeably, Shuichi’s protagonist hair suddenly flips the direction it’s pointing in when you move him from facing down to facing down-left.

Gonta:  “But how we even get here? Gonta not feel anyone pick him up. And we got here so fast…”

His own understanding of this as a shared dream should be enough for Gonta to appreciate that they didn’t have to physically come here. So I guess the fact that he’s experiencing this a lot more vividly than he would experience a dream makes him think it can’t be that and be confused again?

Gonta:  “N-No! If Gonta not strong, Gonta no can protect everyone!”

Oh no poor Gonta this world just took away the one thing he had that made him feel like he could be useful if the opportunity arose.

Gonta:  “Hey, who Gonta gotta talk to to get strong again!?”

There’s someone on the end of that phone who’ll do it for you, Gonta. Just pick it up, say “Gonta Gokuhara wants to be strong again,” and then everything will be just fine.

Kokichi:  “You guys better not cheat by logging out alone!”

I wouldn’t be surprised if Kokichi already suspects that Miu is planning to frame someone by forcing them to log out alone.

Maki:  “I’m guessing… because it’s programmed like that for the killing game simulator. They want to see what kind of killing game it’ll be when no one has their special talent.”

The strength-equalisation only nerfs people whose talents involve being physically strong, though, giving the ones with intellectual talents an advantage. (…Not that the distribution of talents for a killing game was ever particularly fair in the first place, since some are inherently more useful than others regardless.)

Kokichi:  “By the way, Miu, you prepared these maps yourself… not Monokuma, right?”

Miu:  “Th-That’s right… I prepared the maps. What about it…?”

Kokichi:  “No, it’s nothing. I just wanted to know.”

Shuichi:  (What…? There was something off about Miu’s response…)

Kokichi deliberately asked this to give Shuichi a hint that’ll help him figure out the truth later. If Shuichi didn’t know this, he might never be able to figure out the true nature of the Virtual World, and Gonta could well get away with murder. Kokichi is actively trying to sabotage the mercy kill outcome, even before the murder happens.

Kokichi:  “I was gonna go investigate alone. There’s a lot of interesting stuff I wanna check out.”

Kaito:  “Hey… Like hell am I gonna let you do whatever you want.”

Kaito can tell that Kokichi is probably planning something bad and is trying to make an effort to stop it.

Kokichi:  “I’m going, no matter what you guys say. Well, it’d be a hassle if someone kept watch over me—”

Kaito:  “Kept watch?”

Gonta:  “Gonta not understand what’s going on. Gonta not sure how helpful he can be… But Gonta can watch Kokichi so he not do anything weird!”

And Kokichi knows exactly what he’s doing and deliberately manipulates Gonta’s desire to help to get him to come along.

Kokichi:  “Gonta, you’re so sweet… but I knew you would say that.”

DAMN RIGHT YOU KNEW HE’D SAY THAT YOU MANIPULATIVE SOON-TO-BE-MURDERER.

Kokichi:  “You’d make a terrific bodyguard!”

Like he’s trying to tell himself that what he’s about to do is only because Gonta will be protecting him from Miu’s attempt to kill him. It is not. There is absolutely no conceivable way in which this is self-defence.

Gonta:  “It’s okay! Leave it to Gonta! Gonta keep eye on Kokichi!”

NO GONTA DON’T GO WITH HIM

Just like everything else about what Gonta’s about to do here, even this part is driven by Gonta being desperate to be even a tiny bit useful. God damnit.

Kaito:  “Geez… he really knows how to manipulate people. Well, whatever.”

Kaito can perfectly well tell that Kokichi deliberately manipulated Gonta into coming with him for some reason… but then he just brushes it off and doesn’t try to do anything about it, because there’s no way Kokichi’d be able to manipulate Gonta into doing anything truly bad, right? It’s Gonta! Kaito believes in him! Gaaah.

At this point, you can wander around and go into the bathroom to find the toilet paper in there. Shuichi even muses about how it won’t break.

When everyone comes out onto the rooftop, most of them just walk straight out, but Kaito goes wheeeee all the way around the rooftop in a big circle. He’s such an excited kid and I love that they even got that across with the very limited chibi avatars.

Kaito:  “Whoa! It’s snow! Look, Maki Roll! It’s snow! Look! Snow!”

Maki:  “Are you a dog?”

Yes, he is, Maki. He is a very good dog.

Also of note is the way Kaito specifically addresses Maki – not her and Shuichi, just her – and tries to bring her into his excitement. Even in the midst of his ridiculous dogginess, he’s still thinking about helping her by reminding her of the fun kid things she would have done in her normal life before she was an assassin.

Kaito:  “It’s snow, Shuichi! It’s snow! Snow! It’s piling up everywhere! Look!”

Shuichi:  “Y-Yeah!” (He really is like an excited puppy…)

I love that Shuichi agrees about Kaito being a dog.

(Kaito’s addressing Shuichi here because I had Shuichi talk to him directly, so my point just now still stands.)

Maki:  “How can you get so excited over snow? You’re not a kid anymore…”

Kaito:  “Hey, Maki Roll. Men are… living things that must cherish their playful heart! If they lose that, they’ll age!”

Maki:  “…I thought you said when men lose their curiosity, they’ll age.”

Kaito:  “Yeah, they’re both important! A man’s got a lot to remember!”

Kaito is such a wonderful dork. Not only does his concept of manliness include curiosity, it also includes playfulness. Those are both things usually associated with children – so it’s really neat that Kaito understands that they’re not inherently childish and sees them as important enough to be included in his idea of being a “man”. If someone wasn’t able to be curious about things and to let themselves have fun, they’d be boring and stagnant, and that’s not the kind of person who’s going to help humanity make its way into space! No wonder he was disappointed to have to reveal the secret of Himiko’s magic back in case 2. No wonder he kept insisting that those stories of his adventures as a kid were totally real!

When you think of characters in this game who are all about having fun, you’d usually think of Kokichi. But Kaito also understands the importance of letting yourself have fun – arguably better than Kokichi does, since Kaito’s idea of fun doesn’t come at the expense of other people.

Kaito:  “Isn’t that right, bro?”

Shuichi:  “I… don’t know how to respond to that.”

Also, this is the only instance of Kaito trying to bring someone else other than Gonta into his idea of manliness, except for when he punched Shuichi after trial 1, in which he was not thinking clearly at all. Probably this time it’s because he’s got so caught up in his excitement that he’s not thinking clearly for an entirely different reason. I like how Shuichi’s just awkwardly like “leave me out of this, I’m not as ridiculous as you”.

Shuichi:  “That reminds me of a study I once read… People were told they were going to be splashed with hot water, but cold water was used instead. But their minds were so convinced, their bodies reacted as if the water was boiling.”

Tsumugi:  “Oh, I’ve heard of something like that before, too.”

I’m sure you have, Tsumugi, because something like that was used in Danganronpa 2 in an attempt to justify why the victims would have died in real life. That didn’t make sense in the way it does in this game, though, because the argument here is that the body would die (from the brain dying of shock), whereas in Danganronpa 2, the bodies were still perfectly functional and the game was only trying to argue that their consciousnesses inside the virtual reality had somehow completely died even though they had no body to die with.

Once you’re outside the mansion, you’re completely free to run around everywhere on that half of the map. Which is a bit awkward, because Kokichi and Gonta should be somewhere out there right now, but they’re not anywhere to be found in the game. Soooo I guess Shuichi wasn’t dicking around like the players might be and just headed straight to the bridge.

The chibi avatars have a bunch of small idle animations, one of which, if they’re outside, is shivering with cold. It’s pretty cute.

Maki:  “It’s really piled up outside. Kaito would be excited for all this snow. I bet he would make a snowman or something…”

Maki has a sad expression as she says this. Looks like Kaito really did manage to get her to remember her normal life back at the orphanage.

(It’s got to be heartbreaking for Shuichi and Maki the first time they experience real snow once they’re living relatively normal lives outside the killing game, thinking about how much Kaito would have loved it if he were with them. But maybe they’d still be able to make the most of it and honour Kaito’s childlike excitement for snow anyway.)

“Mirai Hills”, says the signboard. Totally not a reference. At least this one is gen two, not gen one, which makes sense given where we are.

I appear to have glitched the game somehow and have this non-stop sound effect of footsteps going on in the background, even when nobody’s walking. Good thing that’s not an in-universe phenomenon; that’d confuse things even more on top of all the other weird stuff about how this world works.

Kokichi and Gonta return, which means that poor Gonta is in despair and miserably believing that the only way to save everyone now is to keep quiet about what he knows and try to mercy-kill them all.

Kaito:  “Where were you and what were you doing?”

Kaito immediately angrily demands this. He’s still doing his best to keep an eye on Kokichi and stop him from doing anything drastic.

Kokichi:  “Oh, I was in the forest looking for the secret of the outside world. But unfortunately I couldn’t find it… Welp, I wasn’t expecting it to be that easy anyway. …Right, Gonta?”

Gonta:  [with a sad expression] “Yeah…”

But Kaito doesn’t question this, because if Gonta is backing up Kokichi’s claim that they didn’t find anything then surely it’s got to be the truth after all. Obviously Gonta wouldn’t lie to them, right?

Gonta is being very quiet and subdued now. But perhaps Kaito isn’t quite able to pick up on that and realise something’s off because the less nuanced expressions on the avatars mean his intuition doesn’t work as well in here. If all he can see is that Gonta is sad and not precisely what kind of sadness it is, it makes sense that he could just be sad they didn’t find anything. Now there’s a neat way in which the Virtual World nerfs talents other than just making strong people weaker.

It would have been neat if the in-universe loading zone worked in the same way as an out-universe loading screen, to sort of lean on the fourth wall a bit. But it makes sense they couldn’t do it that way, because there’s out-universe loading screens between the different rooms of the buildings, but sound can still travel between them so they can’t possibly have in-universe loading zones.

Kokichi disappears through the loading point for a moment and comes back telling us that it cuts off sound, but I wonder how he confirmed that. I’m picturing him yelling something to insult Kaito, not getting a retort, and going “welp, he definitely didn’t hear me”.

Kokichi:  “Well, I’m gonna go on ahead theeeeen.”

[Kokichi goes on ahead along with a silent Gonta]

Kaito:  “Hey, don’t just go on ahead! I don’t trust you being off alone all by yourself!”

Kaito is still doing his best to keep an eye on Kokichi and prevent a disaster! He has no idea that’s it’s already basically too late. (It’s also interesting that he says he doesn’t trust Kokichi alone even though Gonta had gone with him. Apparently he still doesn’t think that Kokichi alone with Gonta is the safest of options if it can be avoided.)

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