#so why is it being passed off as an example of good parenting

[eternally--mortal]

So I just came across this video for the first time and I wanted to say something about it —as in, I feel compelled. It was captioned with the sentence “this is the perfect response to a 4-year-old who thinks she’s ugly.” The video I’ve linked of the scenario is a little longer and is outlined fully below. It is captioned “Little Girl Says She is Ugly And is Quickly Corrected.” I’ll let you draw your own conclusions when I’ve said my piece.

The woman in this video seems to be a very loving woman who has deep and loving concerns for the child involved. I’m going to let you know what I think about how she tried to help.

Let’s take it apart piece by piece:

Hairdresser (family friend): For real, like I’m not even playing with you. You won’t even like it.

Child: I’m so ugly.

—let’s take a moment and look at the situation. The little girl seems to be looking towards the camera, possibly at a reflection or image of herself. She seems upset. Children tend to use big language, even when describing small situations of inconvenience, because they have a limited vocabulary. It is completely possible that this child does not like how her hair looks, either because it’s not finished yet or because she has decided she does not want this particular look or because she did not know how to ask for the look she actually wanted and feels that her desires were misinterpreted. It’s also possible that she feels ugly for an unrelated reason.

H: *gasps, seemingly horrified and shocked*

C: What?

—the child is obviously surprised. She was not particularly upset when she described that she felt ugly. It seems she felt she was stating a fact that carried no devastating emotional value. She does not understand why the adult is distressed.

H: Don’t say that! Don’t say that —Don’t say that. You are so pretty.

—the child seems confused, not by the words, but by the response. The adult here is employing what I call “shut down language.” She is denying the little girl’s feelings because the girl used a statement (“I’m so ugly”) that made the adult uncomfortable. The adult’s knee-jerk reaction suggests that she is insecure about this phrase and about hearing it from a child. Rather than exploring what the child feels and why she called herself ugly, the adult has chosen to deny the child’s feelings. Denying a child’s feelings is a big no-no in conversation. It discourages a child from trusting you with their emotional honesty, and it discourages them from exploring their own feelings. You have made them feel as though they have done something wrong by expressing an emotion or stating a ‘fact’. In turn, the adult escalates the situation by making it about their own distress rather than listening to the child and getting to the heart of the problem.

H: You— When you look at yourself you’re supposed to say “I am so pretty.” You are so pretty.

—here the child begins to look ashamed. She was not expressing negative emotion before. Just confusion. Now she is being made to feel as though she has done something wrong. She looks away from the woman and at the floor. The woman in question is now giving her more orders. Now the girl is being told that she is not allowed to express negative emotions about herself or feel bad about her appearance. She is only allowed to call herself pretty, even when she does not feel pretty. The adult keeps using the word ‘pretty,’ but she is not describing what she means. Children appreciate specific information. Instead this woman is repeating the phrase as though it were a condemnation on the child. Her tone suggests that the child has done something wrong.

H: Do you hear me?

—the woman grabs the face of the child and forces her to look up. She has not allowed the child to speak. She continues to escalate the situation. Her actions suggest that this child is not allowed to express any type of autonomy in an emotional situation—emotional or physical. This woman seems to be acting out of kind-hearted desperation. She does not understand how to step back.

H: You got the prettiest little dimples. You are too cute. Aww…

C: *begins to cry*

—Now the child starts to cry. Do you see how the adult has escalated the situation? What could have been an easy moment of ‘You feel ugly? Tell me about that.’ And ‘your hair? I understand. It can be really hard to feel beautiful when your hair is only partially finished. Let me show you some pictures so you know what it’ll look like when we’re done. If you still don’t like it, then next time we can try something different’ suddenly turns into a complicated situation and a child in tears. A child who was not distressed before suddenly becomes deeply confused, unexpectedly ashamed, and emotionally distressed because the adult in the room didn’t bother asking her a few questions and letting her speak. Just look at how little the child has spoken in this interaction.

H: Aryionna, oh you gon’ make me cry.

C: *cries harder*

—now the child is being told that she is responsible for this woman’s emotional distress —that if she expresses ‘negative’ emotions openly, it is going to have a negative impact on the people around her —that she is responsible for keeping her composure, or else she is going to hurt people —that she is doing something wrong by expressing distress over a situation that this woman escalated

H: You’re not ugly. Baby girl. Oh my God, Aryionna. You’re not ugly. Baby girl.

—a repetition of emotional denial and escalation, stated in a voice that is distressed and accusatory

H: You are so pretty. You look like you have this beautiful chocolaty skin, like you are just so gorgeous. You’ve got these dimples. Remember what I told you? How many people got two dimples? Nobody.

—finally we are being specific. We are identifying specific traits that a child can observe and relate to in order to help her understand what is meant by ‘pretty.’ This is positive, because it grounds the child in the conversation. The issue is that we still don’t understand exactly why the child called herself ugly, therefore the added information may only cause more distress, because all of a sudden we’re bringing up new topics that the child might not have considered without allowing the child to address the old topic. Now we’re telling the child to split her attention between processing the old information and the new, as well as escalating her emotional distress without allowing her to speak. Specifics are very positive for a child, but only when she has the chance to process them properly.

H:You got two, let me see you smile! Let me see, let me see. You got two dimples! I don’t even have two dimples! Girl, let me see your teeth. Look at them pretty white teeth.

—now a child who has been carried into emotional distress is being told by the perpetrator that she needs to smile. Have you ever been told to smile by someone when you’re in emotional distress? Because I have. It doesn’t go over well. It sends the message ‘this person has no interest in my actual emotions. They don’t want to help me process anything. They don’t want to listen to me. They don’t want to deal with me. They want the instant gratification of seeing me smile because if they can control my outward appearance and make me look happy, they no longer feel obligated to worry whether I actually am happy.’ Never tell another person to smile when they are in emotional distress. You are making the situation about you rather than attending to their needs. Even children can understand this. Emotionally, they are hurt from being told to smile, even if they don’t know the words yet to describe exactly what they’re feeling and why. I can tell you, at this moment this child is likely feeling uglier and less loved than she was at the beginning of the conversation. The adult here is trying very hard to fix the situation, but she is making it more about her than she is about the child. She feels a need to control and fix rather than to trust and listen. Emotional conversations require mutual respect. That means trusting a child to emotionally sort through something without you giving them orders.

H: No, you’re not gon’ cry.

—now the child is being told that she is not allowed to cry. She has been led to believe that referring to herself as ugly is shameful wrongdoing that leads to tears. She has been told that she is not allowed to feel negatively about her appearance. She has been told that she is required to feel beautiful. She has been told that any other feeling is invalid. She has been told that she is responsible for managing her emotions so that other people do not feel distressed as well. She has been told she needs to smile. And now she is being told that she is not allowed to cry. She needs to bottle up her emotions in order to make the people around her feel good.

H: You are a beautiful little girl. And you are pretty. You are the prettiest girl in your class. *grabs the child’s face and turns her back so the two of them are face-to-face in close quarters, even though the child is showing signs of discomfort by turning away* Boom. Tell them straight up, when you go to school tomorrow, you’ve got your hair done, you’re gonna be like, oh look at my hair. Oh, look at my shoes. Look at my clothes. Baby girl, you are beautiful. Black is beautiful, and if nobody ever tell you, I will tell you, you are gorgeous. You are so pretty.

—so now this child is being told to compare herself to the other children in her class. What if she doesn’t feel as pretty as another girl? But she’s been told that being the prettiest is what matters. She is being told to brag about her appearance rather than investigating her internal, emotional life. She is being told that her happiness hinges on beauty and that her beauty hinges on comparison to others.

H: And you are gonna grow up, and you’re gonna be everything that you can be. You are gonna be the greatest nail tech, the greatest beautician, the greatest lawyer, the greatest doctor, the greatest teacher, whatever you wanna be. The greatest speaker, the greatest entrepreneur.

—if you tell a child they are going to be the best, but you do not give them the tools to emotionally develop, you are setting them up for failure, or at least for a very stressful and possibly lonely life. It is better to offer an open ear and a willingness to help than to put pressure on a child to be the best. This child has already been told that she’s expected to remain beautiful. Now she’s being told that she’s also expected to be successful. Not to mention, the adult in this conversation is piling on topics. This is a lot to process for a little girl without letting her actually talk through it all. And we still haven’t gotten to the heart of what actually made her feel ugly. What a horrible rollercoaster ride of emotions being thrown at a child that has been rendered too emotional to properly speak about them.

H: Whatev- What you want to be? What you wanna be when you get older?

C: *draws her hands up to her face* Uhh, the teacher.

H: You want to be, uh *pulls child’s hands down* Your teacher mean to you?

C: *nods*

H: *still holding onto child’s arms, gesturing with them* So guess what, when you become a teacher, you don’t be mean. *drops arms* *points at child’s chest* You be a nice teacher. You be- You going to be Miss- Miss Cotton. That’s what they going to call you. Miss Cotton.

—so finally the child is given a chance to speak, but the adult still fights to maintain control. She holds the little girl’s arms and moves them around. She tells the little girl what type of teacher she’s going to be. She doesn’t ask the child about it and let her speak.

H: You gotta be happy *touches child’s face where her dimples would be if she were smiling* all the time because you’re a little kid. You only four, and you should not know nothing about being ugly, because you are so beautiful.

—look, I understand what she’s saying here. She’s saying that it’s an injustice for a small child to have to endure pain and suffering. But that’s not how she’s saying it. She’s giving this information to this child as an order. All of a sudden, this little girl is being told that she’s only ever allowed to be happy. The gestures imply that happiness is signified by an outward smile rather than an internal feeling. This child is being told that she’s not allowed to know how it feels to be ugly. She’s being told that beautiful people are not allowed to express emotion because they are beautiful. She is being told that this is a good thing, and that she has no say. That is not comforting. That is extremely distressing to a small child. Children don’t process logic the same way that grown ups do. The most developed part of a child’s brain is the part that processes emotions. That’s how children make decisions. This woman is telling a small child that this child is not allowed to use the most developed part of her brain — the part that needs to grow and develop in a healthy way in order for this child to live a healthy life.

H: You hold your head up *holds the child’s cheeks between her open hands and points it upward and holds it there* You hold your head up. Okay?

—the adult is still taking full control. Her words are spoken in a demanding tone. She is not asking the child what she wants. She is not even allowing the child to hold up her own head.

H: Okay?

C: *nods*

H: can I have a hug?

C: *moves in for a hug, head angled down*

—this child is obviously still upset. More upset than she was at the beginning of this conversation

H: I love you. You are so pretty. . . . And you got a beautiful heart, and you just have some good manners.

—love is tied once again directly to beauty by verbal proximity. The beautiful heart is listed almost as an afterthought. It is being mentioned for the first time in the conversation.

H: Come on, let’s finish your hair girl.

C: No, I don’t wanna finish my hair.

—this child is expressing a concrete feeling for the first time since the beginning of the conversation. It is quite possible that her feeling of ugliness had something to do with her hair. She is trying to express a truth, which she hasn’t been allowed to properly do for this entire conversation.

H: Come on, we ain’t got no choice. We ready to get out of this chair. Come on.

—the child is told that she has no choice. That someone else is making a decision for her. That she is not allowed to express her frustration, even though the adult is allowed to escalate the situation and express her own feelings of distress.

H: Girl, you just almost made me cry, no lie. Uh-uhhh.

—the video ends with the adult holding the little girl responsible, once again, for her distress and her lack of emotional regulation.

This is not how you teach a child to love herself or to feel beautiful or to regulate emotions. This is how you teach a child to believe that adults don’t care, children aren’t allowed to express thoughts and feelings, and the voices and feelings of children don’t matter. This woman very obviously loves this child and wants to help, but even loving people can royally screw up a child by not listening and by escalating emotional distress. Nearly everything said here was emotionally damaging, not matter the motivation.

I encourage anyone who struggles in conversation — whether with children or with adults — to read How to Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish. It’s not a perfect book, but it has a wealth of great principles for communicating with children that also extend to adult conversation. It’s a great help when you’re at a loss of what to say in potentially emotional conversations like these, but also in every day conversations. It does a great job of teaching how to help kids problem solve and personally develop and how to lessen the stress of engaging with another person. It helps us to translate our good motives into the proper methods so that we don’t hurt other people with shut down language and an instinctual need to maintain control or to seek instant gratification by forcing kids / other people to feel what we want them to feel.

[ckerouac]

So, I really love the selection of Tim Walz for VP and it’s taken me a moment to articulate why. I mean, obviously, Dem bonafides, he’s sharp, he’s funny, etc etc. But everyone in the Veepstakes fits that bill, Harris was spoiled for good choices.

But Walz offers something that the other men in contention don’t that I think will be incredibly useful in combating Trumpism.

He offers an example and an off ramp to the section of men who felt like they were Republicans by default, and so support Trump by default. There are a lot of Trump voters who are full on obsessive, but that’s not who we’re talking to. We’re talking to folks who grew up in Republican areas, or felt their hobbies didn’t line up with who a Democrat was, or didn’t feel represented by their image of a Democrat. You want to see it so you can be it, you know? Which is why Harris is so inspirational to a lot of segments of folks, but Walz is too.

He served in the military. He went to a state college. He’s your favorite teacher from your public high school. He’s your football coach who actually cared if you were passing your math class. He’s the guy you looked up to at school when your family sucked but this guy cared, and he helped you get out and make something of yourself.

He’s the neighbor who helps you jump your car. He’s your uncle who takes you hunting. He’s your Dad who loves teasing you at the Stare Fair. He’s you when he makes a mistake like his DUI and takes responsibility for it, and when he has the chance makes sure other can come back from similar mistakes. He’s you when you and your wife want so badly to be parents and IVF gives you the family you wanted. He’s you when he says ‘it had to be me’ and used his standing and power to protect vulnerable kids sponsoring the GSA at his school.

He gives the real life example to these men that they can be that football, fishing, hunting family man who wants to provide for his family, be that powerful, respected member of the community and use that power to feed kids in school. That it’s normal to enthusiastically work for a boss like Harris. That yeah those other guys are fucking weirdos, and you’re not a weirdo, are you?

That there’s a place in the Democratic Party for them. That they don’t have to default to being fucking weird.

I hope those guys see this example of masculinity and go… yeah, that’s me. That’s who I’m gonna be.

[transgaysex]

i know i would be a vastly different person if i didnt have to deal with hyper-empathy. i know i probably have things that i benefit from by being too empathetic. but its very hard not to wonder how happier i would be if i just didnt have to deal with that.

[luminnara]

Unheavenly Creatures Part Two | Feyd-Rautha x reader (NSFW)

PART ONE | PART THREE

Summary: in the wake of an arena victory on his name day, Feyd rautha blows off some steam with his darlings.

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Read this fic on AO3 under the same account name, luminnara!

Warnings: group sex/foursome, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of cannibalism, canon typical violence, it’s Feyd-Rautha it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, bloodplay, biting, marking, possessiveness, the whole shebang

Word count: 4.6k

Note: I have been desperately trying to find any info I can on the harpies, and I have not managed much 🥲 so pls enjoy my headcanons and made up names ily bye

Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty @belovedbastardremus @the-dark-dreamer25

It was a day of celebration, and the entire palace—no, city—was abuzz. Inside, a feast was nearly finished, a kitchen full of cooks working day and night for a week to prepare the na-Baron’s favorite dishes. Outside, beneath a black sun, the citizens of Giedi Prime sat cheering in the arena, drinking in the sight of their beloved Feyd-Rautha as he gutted the last of the Atreides warriors. Even as you made your way back to the palace, the roar of the crowd was deafening, their penchant for bloodshed seemingly increased tenfold on this special day.

“Come,” one of the women next to you said, her voice a high, breathy hiss.

“Feyd will want us,” the other smiled, her black teeth contrasting dramatically against her near-white skin.

Feyd-Rautha’s darlings had been quick to accept you as one of them. You suspected it was partly because they didn’t dare question him, though you had seen occasional instances of what could be considered mild defiance from them in your short time on Giedi Prime. They, and you, were permitted to act out on occasion, though none of you were foolish enough to do so in a way that would cast an ill light on your beloved na-Baron. And he was your beloved—with each passing day, you grew more and more comfortable with the Harkonnen heir, and more and more certain that he adored you.

“We will feast on Atreides tonight,” Issa sighed.

“Feyd will reward us,” Yarina said, looking down at you with a grin.

You returned it.

As the three of you walked down the hall, moving as a single, predatory unit, Harkonnen and guests alike were quick to move out of the way. You heard the whispers, caught the curious, sometimes shocked stares as you passed. Feyd’s darlings were rarely seen wandering, and as such, even members of the Harkonnen nobility found themselves stunned by the sighting.

You kept pace with the others as you walked, mindful of the carefully curated air they liked to keep about them. They were both exquisite examples of Harkonnen beauty, equally as dangerous as they were lovely, and though you still did not know much about who they had been before Feyd chose them as concubines, you enjoyed their company. It was a good thing, too; now, you spent nearly every moment with them, and when you weren’t with them, it was because you were alone with Feyd-Rautha.

Some nights, he called you to his bed, having his way with you, whispering things in your ear that he would never say during the daylight hours. Things he reserved only for you. At night, Feyd-Rautha could be almost kind, and you came to suspect that he loved his darlings, in his own way; otherwise, why would you all be allowed to touch him, to pleasure him, to feast with him?

You had never expected that you might become a concubine for the heir of one of the Houses. As a child, you had often dreamt of becoming a princess and being swept away through the stars to wed your handsome prince. But you were no noble; your parents bore no titles, and the closest you were ever meant to come to greatness was when you served your former masters. Was it luck that had brought you where you were today, freely roaming the Harkonnen palace while you awaited your beloved Feyd-Rautha? Or had fate played a trick on you, giving you close to what you had always wanted while still refusing you any title or noble birth? Perhaps it was better this way; perhaps you would enjoy your life as a concubine far more than you would if you had been a lady of the court.

Perhaps the universe had known you would one day commit violent acts, and planned a fitting role for you. If you hadn’t killed your father all those years ago, would you even be on Giedi Prime now? Would Feyd-Rautha had cared at all about the handmaiden who had wandered too far? Perhaps he would have killed you, seeing you as expendable. He would have slit your throat, and his uncle the Baron would have pretended he cared enough to apologize to the Lord and Lady you had served. They would have gotten someone new, and you would have been easily and quickly disposed of.

Perhaps Feyd would have fed you to his darlings.

How strange the wheel of fate was.

“What are you thinking about?” Issa asked you, tilting her head as she looked at you curiously. Her voice was always breathy and alien, a dreamlike quality within it. It matched her appearance and yet it didn’t, making her seem even less human than her black teeth and eyes did.

“Yes, you seem so far away,” Yarina agreed, her accent more akin to the na-Baron’s than Issa’s. You had been on Giedi Prime long enough now to recognize differences in accent and dialect, and had begun trying your best to imitate Feyd’s in an attempt to better fit in. You had no idea if it was working or not, but no one had commented on it yet, which you took to be a good sign.

“My House allied with House Harkonnen,” you said as the three of you neared Feyd-Rautha’s chambers.

“Your former House,” Issa corrected, raising a hand to stroke your cheek. “You are Harkonnen now.”

“I do not look Harkonnen.”

“You do.” Yarina pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

This was normal with them, you had come to learn; they touched casually and constantly, always in contact with each other and now you by default.

“There is no doubt my former Mistress, or at least her husband, is visiting for the celebration.” You said.

“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will kill them for you,” Yarina offered.

“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will allow us to kill them,” Issa grinned.

You did not know if you wanted that to happen.

You followed them through the door and into Feyd’s living quarters, settling on the large bed while you waited for him. You could imagine him stalking through the halls, bright red Atreides blood painting his chest and face as he hurried back to you. He would kill or maim anyone who stood in his way or tried to slow him down. He was always wild after a fight in the arena, and he always came to you hot and hard and ravenous.

You hoped today would be no exception.

“He must hurry,” Issa pouted as she lounged next to you. “I’m growing hungry.”

“He will come,” Yarina sighed. “He would never let us starve.”

You weren’t sure if they were talking about sex, or food, or both, but you always marveled at the way they spoke of Feyd. They knew how dangerous and callous he could be, but to the harpies, that was normal. If he was a lion, then they were the lionesses; just as cunning, just as regal, just as hungry. Whenever you walked alongside them, you learned more of how to be like them. You learned how to keep your head held high in a room of Harkonnen men, confident that none but Feyd-Rautha would dare to touch you lest they lose a limb or their life. You learned how to stomach the violence that the na-Baron enacted so frequently, and even how to anticipate it eagerly. You had changed in your time on Giedi Prime, and you were becoming more and more like your fellow concubines by the minute.

When you finally heard heavy, determined footfalls outside, you perked up. The door opened not a moment later, revealing a bloodied Feyd-Rautha, his chest heaving and his gaze dark as he crossed the room, eyes glued to you. There was no time to be scared before he was upon you, cupping your face in both hands as he kissed you hungrily, greedily, sharply biting at your lip. You gasped involuntarily and he was quick to force his tongue past your teeth, exploring your mouth while a hand moved to squeeze at your breast.

You felt a soft hand press against the back of your neck as one of the other harpies held you, her body supporting you as Feyd-Rautha pushed you down. The other moved onto her knees, undressing him quickly before leaning in to lick blood off the side of his face.

He moved to catch her lips in his and you gasped for air, heart racing as hands pulled at your dress. Craning your neck, you saw that Issa was behind you, her hands now massaging your breasts as she leaned over you.

Feyd easily threw Yarina down next to you, the bed rocking slightly. He paused, panting as he stood and looked down at his three darlings, all still clothed while he was bare. His full lips curled into a smirk, eyes raking over your bodies as he crawled over you once more.

“This must go,” he said simply, taking a fistful of your dress and pulling.

One of the others sucked in an excited breath, quickly taking the torn scraps and tossing them to the floor.

Feyd-Rautha dove for your throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses against the soft flesh as his strong arms caged you in. Someone’s hand slipped between your thighs and you opened your legs obediently, feeling slender fingers stroking you as you were prepared to take the na-Baron.

It wasn’t the first time you had all been together like this. After you had settled in and grown more comfortable with the others, Feyd had permitted them to watch as he bedded you. They had both been fascinated by the small amount of body hair Feyd chose to let you keep, and you had been fascinated by the way no one, not even Feyd-Rautha, had touched you intimately without permission, or at least without being expressly told not to.

This wasn’t the first time you had felt those fingers inside you. When the three of you were alone, the others taught you how to please Feyd-Rautha. They had perfected it to a science, and it reminded you of some of the rumored Bene Gesserit teachings you had heard of; secretive, calculated, confident. Always in control, even when it seemed that they were not. You had been surprised to learn that the na-Baron was vulnerable in front of his concubines, shocked, even, by what you had seen when he took them to bed; for he was not always demanding and petulant, but also subservient. The others knew how to give him what he truly wanted and needed, and that was sometimes the permission to be a different man while behind closed doors.

Today, though, that was not what he wanted nor needed. Today was a day for chaos, for Bacchanalia. Today, Feyd-Rautha’s feral energy was driving him into a frenzy, teeth sinking into whatever he could find as he marked you with his bites over and over.

“Yes,” you gasped as fingers pushed deeper into you. “Oh, yes…”

Feyd tore himself away from your neck to devour another’s lips, his hips grinding against yours as a pair of hands wrapped themselves around his cock and began stroking. The bed was a tangle of limbs and the air was heavy with breathy moans, no one quite sure of where anyone ended and anyone else began.

When you felt the head of his cock prodding at your entrance, you moaned, and it came out almost choked. There, surrounded by so many bodies, you felt hot and slick all over, already sweating before the real work had even begun. Your voice was thick in your throat as you begged for him, pleading with him to please fuck you, please use you…and he obliged, because you were saying exactly the right things to make him drunk with lust.

“Feyd,” you whispered, hands searching for him.

“M’darling,” he groaned as he pressed his face into Issa’s neck, the sound guttural and primal.

“Please,” you whimpered as Yarina ran her hands over your front. Your thighs tensed in an attempt to soothe the needy ache between them, but Feyd-Rautha was in the way, like a solid tower of muscle and flesh that refused to give. “Feyd please!”

He was faring no better than you. His cock ached and wept as it slid over your lips, now wet with your own arousal and throbbing with need as blood pooled in your groin. With each teasing thrust of his hips you grew more desperate, breaths coming in whiny pants as you huffed and begged, chest heaving as your back arched up off of the bed.

As Feyd-Rautha allowed himself to be guided into you, he groaned that deep, heady groan, the one that always had you melting and turning to putty in his hands. You gasped at the feeling of his cock sinking deeper and deeper, slowly, until his skin brushed yours and you swore you could feel him in your womb.

When his hips rocked back you let out a strangled moan, and when he pushed into you once more you made a noise that would be considered filthy back on your home planet. Feyd-Rautha had a tendency to bring those noises out of you, and fill your head with thoughts that some would be disgusted by. As he fucked into you with ever-increasing brutality, though, he reminded you why you were so happy living with him now. Looking up into his dark eyes that watched you while his lips brushed over another woman’s shoulder as she held him, you felt nothing but lust and glee and adoration. Sharing him was easy when you were part of a set like this, and when you were all together as one moving, breathing creature.

His gaze was intense. You knew he loved watching you as he pleasured himself with you. Sex was like war for him, each bedding a conquest, each fuck a battle. You were never his enemy, though; you were his prey.

And you enjoyed being caught.

“Feyd,” the harpy behind you called in her hissing voice.

He tore his lips from Yarina’s flesh, leaning over you as his hips continued thrusting, meeting Issa above you. He attacked her hungrily, hands gripping her roughly as his speed movements grew more erratic. You knew he was becoming more and more frenzied by the sighs and moans, his kisses turning to bites. You watched, enraptured, as he sank his teeth into her shoulder, a bead of dark blood running down her breasts and dripping onto your cheek.

Yarina made an excited sound and dove around Feyd-Rautha, intent on licking it up. Before she could, he released Issa, shoving her aside as he snarled at Yarina, hands coming down on other side of your head as he caged you in once more.

She hissed at him, jealous and hungry, moving instead to suck at the wound the blood had oozed from. The na-Baron huffed a ragged laugh, baring his black and bloody teeth as he grinned at them, then down at you.

“You will have your turn,” he said to them while looking at you. “You will never go hungry.”

You knew he was speaking of both literal and sexual appetites, and that he meant it; there was plenty of blood and plenty of him to go around, and he was incredibly good at balancing his attentions between all three of you. Though his concubines were meant to serve him, at times it seemed as though that was achieved by him serving you—ensuring that all of you were happy, proving that you were well cared for in all ways. When his darlings were happy, Feyd-Rautha was happy. You could almost call it love.

His love was harsh, though; as he gazed down at you, you felt as if you were the only one in the universe, drawn in to those dark eyes, and you obediently turned your head and bared your throat to him. He relished the sight, and the willingness, and the vulnerability. He could kill you so easily like this, with his cock buried inside you and his teeth in your flesh. A part of him longed to spill your blood everywhere; you knew because he had said so before.

But he wouldn’t kill you.

You were his.

And he was shockingly gentle with his things, reverent when it came to their care. His knives, lovingly and proudly displayed on the wall, another hidden in the bed in case of emergency, were always sharpened. His favorites were sharpened by him, because he trusted no one else with them, much they same as how he trusted no one else with you.

As his teeth sank into you, he moaned, relishing the feeling of having you there in his jaws. He could crush you if he really tried, if not with his teeth then with his hands. But as he held you close and swept his tongue over the sore mark he had left, you knew he never would. You were safe with him, as odd as that felt.

“You are so beautiful like this,” he breathed as you gazed up at him.

“You are as well,” you replied, smiling at the admission.

He kissed you, deeply and seriously, not a hint of those teeth. It was pure, in a way, just like his care for you was; not pure in the innocent sense, nor the good sense, but pure in that it was simple and primal. It wasn’t evil. It wasn’t overtly just. It simply was.

Then, he nipped at your lower lip, sharply enough to draw blood, and he sucked at it greedily. You felt a tingle in your core, something uncoiling within you. When you brought your legs up and hooked your heels around him, he pushed into you even further, as if he wanted to force himself inside your very skin. When he dropped his head next to yours, you knew he was close—and when he bit into you again, you shrieked, and you knew you were close as well.

“Fuck,” he growled against you. “Move.”

You immediately unlatched your ankles and he pulled out, painting your front in his seed. Marking you as his once more.

He tilted his head as he looked at you. You writhed beneath him, hips bucking as you searched for him, so close to your own end and yet now feeling devoid and empty.

“Shh, pet,” he cooed, reaching between your legs. “I will care for you.”

You were nearly in tears as you watched him, far beyond the ability to speak coherently as he toyed with your swollen clit. His mouth moved to your inner thigh and he bit, drawing blood, leaving a trail of marks. The sounds that left your throat were desperate and wanton, echoing off the high ceiling of his chambers as Feyd-Rautha made quick work of you. Your pleasure was agony and beauty, and as he dragged you down over the edge, your voice felt hoarse from your cries and moans.

Anyone passing by in the corridor would hear.

You did not care.

You would never be ashamed of the sounds you made when Feyd-Rautha pleasured you, and as he bent down to swipe his tongue over you and lap at your wetness, you felt a smug sense of achievement. There was the na-Baron, on his knees, tending to his low-birth, off-planet concubine.

He pressed a kiss to the deepest bite mark. “Exquisite.”

Then, you were gently moved aside, and he began anew with one of the others. Though he was selfish, your pleasure was his, and he worked through the three of you however he pleased, always ensuring you were sated. You watched in fascination as he made them writhe, and when he allowed his own skin to be broken, you sucked at the wound, tasting the strange Harkonnen blood on your tongue and appreciating the fact that you were probably the only person from your home planet to have ever been given the chance.

How strange, the things you appreciated now.

-0-

“Something troubles you tonight,” a rough voice commented.

You turned your head to look at its owner. “Why do you say that?”

“You aren’t in bed with the others.” Feyd-Rautha approached you, coming to stand behind you.

He was right; you had initially found sleep to come easily after a long day of celebrations and feasting, your aching body in desperate need of rest. But after some time you had awoken, and it was impossible to close your eyes again. So you had dressed yourself in a black robe and slipped away, escaping to the balcony window down the corridor.

“My apologies,” you mumbled, looking down at the railing.

His chest brushed your back as his hands gripped your elbows. “You shouldn’t be out alone.”

“I know, but—“

“I was worried.”

His admission made you pause. When you glanced up at him, you saw that he was serious, jaw tense as he looked down at you.

“You were?” You asked, staring at him with wide, black eyes.

“I was.” His voice was stern. “It is not safe.”

“I’ve wandered these halls before,” you said, a hint of amusement in your tone. “Even before I joined you.”

“You were a guest.” He said. “I was your greatest threat then.”

“I wasn’t afraid of you.” You jutted your chin up towards him.

“I know,” he grinned. “When you told how best to spill your guts so as not to ruin the meat, I knew.” Then, he grew serious once more. “I also knew I must have you, and no one else would touch you.”

“No one here would dare.” You said haughtily. “They know better than to play us.”

“That is not what I worry about, my darling.” Feyd-Rautha placed his hands on the railing in front of you, leaning his chin on the top of your head as he looked out over Giedi Prime. “I am the heir to the Harkonnen throne.”

“You’re an important man,” you furrowed your brow. “What of it? Does that not guarantee me protection?”

“You are a target.”

“…na-Baron, I am a concubine, not a bride.” You scoffed. “There would be no reason for any political adversary to—“

“Feyd.” He growled.

“Wh-what?”

“Call. Me. Feyd.”

You gulped. “I-I’m sorry, Feyd.”

“Don’t…” he heaved a sigh, steadying himself. “Don’t apologize, darling.”

He was silent for a moment, and you weren’t sure whether to feel safe or uncomfortable.

“All of Giedi Prime knows how important my darlings are.” He continued. “You are safe when you are with me. But I cannot guarantee that safety when you are alone.”

Feyd-Rautha turned his head, leaning his cheek against you. It was an oddly intimate movement; in fact, the entire situation felt more akin to one that should take place with husband and wife, not murderous na-Baron and concubine.

“I am only a concubine,” you said again, voice small.

He barked a cruel laugh. “Is that what you tell yourself?”

You winced at the harsh sound. “It is the truth.”

“My darlings,” he began, his voice low, anger simmering just below its surface, “are much more to me than simple concubines.” He turned you in his arms, forcing you to lean back against the railing. “Surely you know this…or do you turn your nose up at me?”

You recognized the glint of anger in his eyes and felt panic rising. He couldn’t really think you hated him, could he? “Feyd, no…”

He gritted his teeth as he glared down at you. “The little off-world pet, too good for the likes of the barbarian prince…I know what the Great Houses say about me.”

His hands drifted down to grab at the thin fabric of your robe, grabbing it in bunches as he hiked it up. He paused for a moment and you realized he was listening, for your quickening breaths and heartbeat, and you watched as something in his eyes shifted.

“They call me psychotic.” He nosed at one of the bite marks on your neck. “What do you think, darling? Are they correct?”

“Y-yes, Feyd.” You stammered, both frightened and excited by the game you now realized he was playing.

He made a thoughtful noise as a hand slipped past your robe, fingers finding your swollen, used folds and plunging inside. “What else?”

“Th-they say you are bloodthirsty,” your breath hitched as his thumb brushed your clitoris.

“Am I?”

“Yes, Feyd,” you gasped at the addition of another finger.

A sick smile twisted itself onto his face. “What do they say about me on your home planet, darlin?”

“That you are v-violent,” you steadied yourself with a hand on his bare chest as your thighs trembled. “That you kill without second thought. That you are cruel and crave violence with every breath.”

Some of it you had made up; truly, you had never heard anyone on your planet speak in great length about the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. In fact, most people on most planets probably didn’t even know who he was. But for the sake of his ego, and for the hand between your thighs to continue its work, you exaggerated, and it worked. Despite a long day of fighting and fucking and enjoying spice, Feyd-Rautha was awake, attentive, and ravenous.

“And what does my darling think?” He asked, rubbing your clit as he twisted his fingers inside you.

“I-I think—!” You gasped, eyes wide at the sensation, wetness pooling around his hand, “Feyd—!”

“Answer me,” he purred, amused.

“I think that you are all that and more!” You blurted, tears pricking the edges of your modified eyes.

“Good pet,” he caught your lips in a kiss and focused his efforts on your clitoris, allowing and encouraging you to reach your peak on his hand.

And you did, of course you did. You always finished with Feyd, oftentimes before him. As your orgasm overtook you, he breathed you in, devouring you in his adoration.

As you came down, he leaned back, pulling his hand away and watching your flushed face as he licked the taste of you off of his fingers.

“Delicious,” he rumbled, looking at you with a hunger in his eyes.

Then, he placed his hands on your shaky hips and turned you, and before you had even caught your breath, his cock was inside you for the second time that day. He squeezed your breast as he fucked you, pressing kisses along your spine that seemed far too gentle for the na-Baron, and again, you marveled at the way he treated his darlings.

“Do you see now?” He panted in your ear. “Do you see your importance? Only my darlings do this to me.”

Only his darlings made him so feral and so tame at the same time, because while he bit and tore and raged with you, he refused to truly break his favorite things.

“And you take me so well,” he growled, spending himself inside of you with a grunt.

Feyd leaned against you, pressing a kiss to your temple. You felt comfortable there, within the safety of his body. Nothing could harm you when you were with him; you were one of his darlings, and now, you were certain that he adored you.

“Come,” he said, pulling himself out of you and straightening up.

“Bed?” You asked as he easily swept you into his arms, carrying you back to his chambers.

“A bath,” he decided. “Then bed, with the others.”

And you smiled as he held you, so secure against his chest. Feyd-Rautha was everything you had said and more—he was a lover, as well, in his own way.

[trappednyourheart]

A Haunted Doll's new kid

“A Damian and he's haunted doll”

Instead of Jason having Danny as his childhood doll or haunted doll, how about if Damian got haunted doll Danny?

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

Where a young Talia Al Ghul stumbled across a very old and abandoned mansion in a middle of nowhere, only tall dark trees and harsh winds accompany her outside of the manor, at her vulnerable worse moments, her team was ambushed by a very cunning new group..took a lot of damaged out of her but she survived and now left wandering on her own, without anyway to contact the league or if she will faced punishment for being defeated, she decided to seek shelter inside the lifeless Manor for the time being, but to her surprise inside the manor it was warm as if no sign of abandonment as if it was alive, only one there was a beautiful baby doll.. something those rich young daughters would play at those times she heard from rich society of children..

Only Alive entity keeping her warm and welcome, so she decided to bring it to the League and no matter how childish this action was..she really can't stop letting go until she give it to her son in his 12 birthday, hoping him to take care of the Precious doll as if a heirloom, which it is😅

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

Damian knew what this Doll was, it was his mother's doll. A doll so clean and beautiful, he never understand why there was a doll back then at the league.

It was his first everytime to even see a doll up closed than reading and imagining it at textbooks and examples of words in his former lessons, the Doll was strange.

Unlike The doll, it felt alive, warm and cozy like a child would be clingy to it's parent

He could feel waves of emotions he could distinct knowing the Doll's feelings..

No matter how much time passed after his mother gave it to him, he knows understands why he's mother would take care of this Doll.

No matter how much his family freak out at the constant, chairs spinning too see the baby doll sitting in it, finding in other places standing, moving heads, and little joyful laughter's. (Except for Alfred cause he already accepted the doll,)

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

Danny was absolutely not amused, after a whole prank war with the fam, Ellie and the others decided to trap him in this stupid girly baby doll, with a brand label with his name💀 and decided to drop him off to a abandoned version of Vlad's house just for funzies if a few mortals ever get scared, but it kinda backfired now he's been getting good care through this girl now turn woman then her son is now taking care of him, he is grateful he isn't some kind of heirloom..right? But it was fun haunting this so called bats, even sending Grey hairs to his new profound kid caretaker,

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

Danny appearance as a doll is a female baby doll, that is plump and porcelain, he also has a voice box for the original dolls lines, but he sometimes make some unholy and demonic noises to scare one of the bats except for Alfred or Damian, the doll that he was inside in had Caucasian skin, dark hair and deep blue eyes that look like had stars twinkling in it which he approved, his dress was a plump white dress that had green designs in it that was glowing, a small beautiful beach hat and a cute glowing green heels? Shoes ya that's the description and some cute accessories like a golden bracelet which had unique jewels like emerald, ruby, and etc,

when talia found him, the Girls, Ellie had created a very doll like luggage with his necessities, clothes, things for dolls..which he considers are now his own belongings after being used to the routine in the league and how he accept this as a vacay cause he knows CW is watching him😅

[pandoa]

since childhood!!

you meet as childhood friends

~feat. twst housewardens~ ~twisted wonderland x gender neutral reader~

warnings: reader is not yuu/prefect and is different for each imagine to fit the setting of the boys (ex: reader is fae in malleus', merfolk in azul's, etc.)

if you want more childhood-like fics, i wrote one with ace and jack linked here!

♡the child you meet at a playground and never see again♡

Riddle Rosehearts couldn’t even remember how or when you had joined him, Trey, and Che’nya in their daily time playing outside the nearby neighborhood. He just knew that once he had stepped outside that day—sneaking out of his home during his study time—you, a strange, new child, had been mindlessly throwing a ball to Trey, giggling in the process. Any outsider passing by could have sworn you‘d already known the young trio for years. Odd, but the boy found himself not objecting to your time spent with him and his friends. You were somehow very comfortable to speak with, and Riddle couldn’t help but find your playfulness intriguing.

“Ha! I win again!” you jumped up and cheered with Trey and Che’nya sitting in a small circle as all three of you held up your hands in exhilaration. 

“Congratulations,” Trey said, returning a proud smile. Resting on a grass-filled hill, the three of you helped yourselves to pass the time with a simple game that lasted longer than expected, if you all were to be honest. Riddle—insisting to only observe for the round—caught sight of the way your competitiveness mixed with Trey’s insightfulness and Che’nya’s natural wit. It was interesting. The way you easily conversed with everyone despite only meeting hours ago, he means.

“Hey, red-head!” you then called out to the young boy watching from afar, “Do you wanna play now? I can teach you the basics; It’s really just a hand game.”

Riddle contemplated for a second until walking closer to join the group, “... I suppose I’ll join.”

“Great!” you beamed, “The game’s called Concentration. Basically, we pick a category and all four of us have to go around taking turns saying a word that matches that specific category. Like if it was, for example, colors, then we all could say things like blue, orange, red—you get the gist of it.”

A nod then came from the red-headed child who was now seated next to you.

“The catch, though,” you continued, “is that you cannot at all hesitate when it’s your turn. So no pausing before speaking. This game’s supposed to be quick and fast. Got it?”

“I’m sure I do—?”

“Good! Let’s start.” With a swift clap of your palms, the game had begun as Riddle was practically pushed into the game with your excitement. Truthfully, he had not the faintest clue as to what he had been doing, but he supposed there was no harm in simply trying, yes? 

“Hmmm, the category for this round, then, would be…” you squinted your eyes, appearing to be deep in thought, “Desserts! Go!”

“Vanilla cake,” Trey began.

“Truffles~” sang Che’nya.

“Strawberry tarts,” Riddle quickly replied.

“Crap!”

Crap?

“All this dessert talk made me remember that my parents wanted me to turn off the oven before ever going out! They’re really gonna kill me this time, I just know it!” you panicked as you suddenly explained your predicament, scrambling from the ground to get back up on your feet, “I gotta go, guys! Bye!”

“And don’t think any of you won just yet! It’s a draw until I say so!” you hollered out to the three boys as you left each of them bewildered and confused. Now only being able to see the back of your running form, Riddle found that, just as you had first met them that day, you had similarly disappeared with a clap of your hands like a ghost of a light at midnight.

Riddle wondered if he’d ever see you again. Sevens, he didn’t even get to catch your name.

♡the friend you sneak out with♡

“Why are you so slow? Get moving! I’ve seen sloths move faster than you, dumbo.”

The young Leona Kingscholar, having heard the ceaseless comments coming from your also young form, gave you a classic deadpan only he could display so perfectly within the empty gardens of the Kingscholar palace. No soul had been there as the only living creatures that remained were the critters chirping their music into the night and breeze of the gardens speaking back with delicacy. That, and everyone else within the grandiose palace had been rooms away, probably swaying to whatever music the Kingscholars had orchestrated for the ball that would take place that day. 

“Yeah, well why don’t you quiet down a bit, hm? You’re hurting my eardrums,” the boy replied, rubbing his left ear in annoyance. For the amount of times you both had snuck off with each other, Leona had thought you would have caught on to the main rule of sneaking out: remaining as quiet as possible until it was safe to speak. 

You’ve gotta be kidding me, the chocolate-haired boy thought.

Playfully poking at his side, you began an attempt to tease him even just for a little bit, “Aw, does the little kitty not like it when he hears my oh-so-wonderful voice?”

“Yeah. It’s obnoxious.”

“Hey—!”

“Shhhh!” Leona, albeit quite swiftly, suddenly placed a firm hand against your mouth, causing you both to halt in place behind an unassuming stone wall, “I think the guards are coming…”

Your heart began to race with anticipation. If the palace guards had managed to catch you two escaping a chance to socialize at a royal event, you would never hear the end of it from your families. “... Do you hear them?” a worried whisper mumbled from your nervous figure.

“Mhm, could you keep watch over here?” the boy said as he bent down on his knees, concealing himself whilst facing the other direction, “I’ll go look on the other side.”

Trusting your dear—and sometimes reliable—friend, you peeked your head out from the wall, keeping watch just as Leona said to do. The gardens had been practically deserted; a stillness in the way the gentle wind blew past the branches had almost convinced you that there was, indeed, no one there. 

Was he just… seeing things? you questioned. But your beastman friend would never, right? His senses were probably a thousand times more intuitive than yours. He’d never make such an obvious mistake.

“Uhm, Leona? I don’t think I see any—” you started as your small hand reached out to tap the boy, but not without noticing the way he had been draped against the wall, seemingly knocked-out unconscious as a barely even noticeable drop of drool spilled from his snoring mouth.

“Leona, you lazy wimp!!”

♡the friend you see at one specific place♡

“Are you done yet?”

“No, (Y/n), I am not,” a young octopus-like boy stated as he simultaneously juggled numerous books and papers on all ten of his limbs, particularly focused on the words written on each page. He sat on his own within a shadow-crested octopus pot and looked as if he had not come out of the pot in ages, you observed. Concerning, but nothing new, you thought. “And I won’t be done until far later,” he said, scrunching his face together, “What do you want?”

You mindlessly began poking at a piece of coral, paying no mind to the boy’s slight sass to his tone. “Nothing~ I just thought I could find you here. Turns out I was right.” You watched as Azul helped himself to another book from his rather tall pile, closing another to add to his collection. “Studying again, I see,” a knowing look then escaped your form as your eyes lit with a teasing shine, “Plotting something against me, Azul?”

“I wouldn’t rule out the possibility,” he replied halfheartedly, “Especially if you keep coming here to disturb me.”

You exclaimed, feigning offense, “Never! I’m simply keeping you company.” The boy then peered up to you as you swam closer to him, reminiscing the earlier days of your friendship. “I still remember the first time I saw you here, crying on your own. The growth you’ve had since that day really is admirable—“

“Enough,” Azul shot you an annoyed glare, “It was already unfortunate for you to first meet me as tears welled from my eyes; there’s no need to sugarcoat the memory.”

Jumping at Azul’s assumptions, you worriedly began to amend any insecurities that struck the young boy beside you. “I’m not sugarcoating anything! And crying in front of me that day was nothing to be ashamed of. If I hadn’t heard your voice coming from the pot, I would’ve never come back here each day, let alone know of your existence in the first place.” You let your palm reach forward to hold his—quite soft—face, allowing your innocent touch to spread to him. “You have grown. But it’s okay to cry too, okay?”

“Alright,” Azul mumbled, face still remaining in your small hands. “Anyway,” he continued as he pulled away from your arms, “do you plan on returning home soon? Your family may worry.”

“No, it’s fine,” you shrugged as a soft ocean current moved past the locks of your hair, “I’ll stay here.”

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to.”

Azul had gazed back at you, almost stunned. “If that is what you wish, then be my guest,” he complied.

You then gave him a gentle smile, “Of course.”

♡the friend you find when you are lost♡

“(Y/n)~! Wait for me!” Kalim said, hollering out to your speeding figure under the golden glow of the Scalding Sands as shadows of the plentiful buildings stretched out with the lowering evening sun. What time it exactly was, you did not know. All you had known was that there was still an ample amount of time for you and your new friend, Kalim, to explore the world around you—seeing as the young boy was just as excited as you.

“The town waits for no one, Kalim! It was made for adventure!” you shouted back behind you, almost leaving the white-haired boy for the dust if he had not caught up sooner. “If there’s one thing you should know about this place, it’s that! Or…” a thoughtful pause then cut between your rambles as you stopped in your tracks, “That’s what my grandparents always tell me, at least. Who knows.”

Kalim—who was now standing beside you—then gave you a grin that could send rays of sunshine to shame with its brightness, “Jamil always tells me to never venture to the town, though; maybe he just doesn’t know the kinds of fun that await here!”

“Eh, I know I’ve never met the kid,” warily, your hand began to reach for your other in concern for your newfound companion, “but this Jamil dude doesn’t sound too… fun.”

“Of course he is, he’s my friend!”

“I know he is, but look at us!” you said as you threw your arms up in the air, exclaiming, “We just met today after I saw you wandering off into Sevens knows where, but we still have fun! Jamil, on the other hand, sounds like he stops you from any kind of fun. What kinda friend does that?”

Kalim, still seeming to be unfazed by your concerns as he let out a laugh, shot you his millionth smile of that day, “He means well!”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you muttered. “Anyway, enough of that! There’s this really cool area in the alleyways I know that’s perfect for—”

“Kalim!” an unknown voice was then heard not too far from the both of you, “Where have you been?!”

“Jamil! There you are!” the young boy to your left called out to the voice as the mysterious figure treaded closer and closer—but not without you tensing up with caution. “This is my new friend—” Kalim started, cheerily pointing towards you.

“I deeply apologize, but there’s just no more time to waste,” the unknown figure, who you now saw had long locks of dark hair, paid no mind to you as he fretted over your giggling friend, “You’re lucky our families haven’t realized you were gone just yet or I’d never hear the end of it. Come, now. We have to get back quickly.”

“Oh, okay!” Kalim swiftly replied as he waved back enthusiastically to you, “I’ll see you again, (Y/n)!”

Yelling your final goodbyes, you saw as the forms of the two children around your age hastily walked back to wherever their home resided, silhouettes following after with the sky setting in front of them. 

Although despite the day concluding on its own, you never could understand why Kalim’s friend, Jamil, was so protective over him. Sure, you thought, the young boy could be a tad oblivious at times—that you could admit—but going so far as to act as a caretaker for the boy as opposed to being a friend? It’s not like Kalim was the son of a very impactful family that needed protection. He’s just a normal kid for Seven’s sake!

Right?

♡childhood rivals♡

Vil Schoenheit had had enough.

Why out of all the students who attended this dance studio, he had to be partnered with you? The young boy had always thought this, what with you two being dance partners despite the clear friction between the both of you since he could remember. The only reason Vil had ever found himself tolerating it was because of the sole fact of your dance instructor’s judgment. You were talented, he reluctantly admitted. And rehearsing with you out of all people would only benefit his own skills in the arts if he ever wished to get anywhere with his strive for perfection.

The pursuit of beauty knows no bounds, Vil thought as he adjusted the strap stabilizing his dance shoes. 

“Vil!” a familiar—but scour inducing—voice then intruded on the boy’s preparation as he turned his face to look at your a-little-too-cheery-for-his-taste form. “It’s so nice to see that you’ve made it to today’s lesson! I remember you were absent last week because of an important commercial shooting, yes? We all missed your…” you halted yourself, unnecessarily emphasizing your words as if to discredit the compliments coming from your mouth, “treasured talent.”

Vil scoffed at your empty sweetness. “I’m sure you did, (Y/n).” The young actor tilted his chin up as if to search for his own thoughts while doing his best to cover the glare he dearly wished to give you at that moment, “Although, you’ll be out next week too, correct? I hear you’ve been casted in a children’s show as a special guest.” The blond-haired child then turned back to the straps of his shoes, mumbling to himself, “... That I also had auditioned for.” 

Feigning ignorance to his bitterness, you continued carrying on the conversation with your precious dance partner—relishing the way he stared at you with envy at your obtained role in the process. “Ah, yes. Well, as you know, showbiz is showbiz, Schoenheit. Not all of us will get what we want,” you gave him a smile he could only read as a way to anger him even more. “Perhaps we’ll both be casted next time. That would be wonderful, would it not?”

“Indeed.”

A single clap from your instructor was enough for the entire studio to grow quiet, signaling the start of class as students began rushing to their places, “Alright, class, it’s time to begin! Places!”

You gave your partner a final grin as the room was filled with music to go with your warm up, “Don’t trip today, Schoenheit.”

“As if I ever would, (L/n).”

♡online friends who’ve never met♡

With technology constantly surrounding him, it was only natural for Idia to have met you in the online world. Where else would a shut-in like himself find some sort of social interaction he'd actually be willing to be a part of?

Gloomurai: korie! u wanna hop on midnite l8ter? live event drops tday

korie66: ayooooo korie66: im down. lez do it >:)

Gloomurai: nice Gloomurai: korie and gloomurai back at it again

Although, he supposed he didn't really know you. Sure, he knew the artificially curated version you would introduce yourself as within the chat logs on public servers. But he had never known the "IRL" version of you, let alone your real name. Still—Idia thought as he sat in front of his blue and black gaming set-up, monitor displaying another game he'd binge that night—it was still nice having a buddy to play numerous games with. A kid like him who had the same interests. A kid who also found freedom within the internet.

korie66: YOOOOOOO GLOOMURAI korie66: GET ON MAGITROPICA RN

Gloomurai: wht? y?

korie66: FREE STUFF

Gloomurai: DONT HAVE TO TELL ME TWICE

Both of your days were spent trading the best items, sharing tips for a new game level, or even just chatting for the fun of it. Each night Idia had even found himself eagerly shuffling to his room, shutting the door behind him, and turning on his PC just to make it in time for your scheduled co-ops.

Eventually, you and Idia had found yourselves much more open with one another as well; a certain kind of trust that could only form with the number of years you had played together. What was the point in finding real-life friends, the young Idia thought as he snagged a bag of chips to eat while playing with you, if he had you to spend time with instead? One friend was all he needed, and you filled that roll perfectly!

Gloomurai: YESSSSSESEES LETS GOOOOO

korie66: NICE GOING GLOOMI~~ WE TOTALLY BEAT THAT LAST BOSS LEVEL LMAO

Gloomurai: YEAH Gloomurai: FR THE BEST DUO

korie66: I SWEAR IM NEVER DITCHING U, GLOOMI korie66: CANT DO ANYTHING W/O YOU LOL

Gloomurai: U BETTER NOT HAAHAHAHAJ

This was all he needed. Your friendship was all he needed.

Idia—now a third year student and housewarden at Night Raven College—sighed as he closed the latest game he'd been playing, cracking his back as he stretched like cat waking up from a deep sleep. Determining it was far too early for bedtime, however, the young man had decided it was a good hour to clear out his PC's memory. It was about time. It had been a while.

Scrolling and deleting through file and files, memories, and unused downloads, Idia had found nothing of importance to him and trashed everything in his path. That is, until he spotted a familiar chat log that read UNSTOPPABLE DUO hidden deep within his message history.

The Ignihyde housewarden gazed at the chat name he knew all too well. A certain feeling then began to rise within his chest as his hand subconsciously guided his mouse towards the familiar icon of your profile picture, still the same as it was years ago.

This is a really bad idea, Idia voiced in his mind. Yet, despite being against his own actions, Idia watched as his own hand clicked your name—only to spot a sea of red text blaring through the screen as he peered at the pixels of his computer:

korie66: Last Active 10 years ago. . .

Idia slumped over in his chair at the text, dejected, "I don't know why I even tried."

Shutting off his monitor, the blue-haired boy then stood from his chair and begrudgingly marched back to his bed, concluding his late night. He hadn't known what he was even expecting, at that point. He'd long knew of your inactivity; it's not like he didn't know what he'd see.

It really was just a shame you never had a chance to meet each other, Idia thought. He supposed, though, that some people were never meant to truly remain friends, to remain together.

And you were no exception to that.

♡the friend you meet by accident♡

“OH SEVENS NOT AGAIN—”

“Hm?” Malleus, who had been peacefully reading a book during his break from his studies, suddenly peered up from his spot in the palace gardens at the alarming shouts coming from the sky. It had been a relatively clear afternoon; one with few clouds in the atmosphere and very few birds soaring above, which only left the young fae even more curious at the panicking screams he could catch from his place beside the flower beds. Gently placing his now discarded book down to the grass, Malleus then made his way closer to the figure as a blur of (h/c) fell from the sky and into a nearby bush.

Thud! 

“Ugh, I knew trying that spell would be a total fail,” the figure, who Malleus could now make out as a fae child around his age, dwelled as they rubbed a couple bruises on their arms, healing themselves. “I guess this is what happens when I don’t listen to Mother, but—"

“Ahem,” Malleus cleared his throat, finally gaining the child’s attention.

“AAAHHH—” you screamed again, only this time with shock at the sight of another living being around you. “Gosh, don’t scare me like that! What if my magic went all kapooey on you?! What would happen then?” you scolded the rather tall boy as you stood up from your previously injured state—skin now pristine due to your magic.

“Hm…” the dark-haired boy before you contemplated your words, “Then I suppose going ‘kapooey’ wouldn’t be very good for me, correct?”

“Exactly! I’m glad we’re on the same page.” You turned your body away from the boy as you inspected your dirt-stained clothes, wincing at the rips caused from your fall into the bush. “I don’t even want to imagine what Mother would do to me if she found out I’d harmed another fae—another child at that, too! Although,” your eyes then followed up the fae’s face and pointed its attention straight towards the two black horns resting atop his head, “you do look a bit different than me… Where are we right now?” No other fae from where you were from had any such horns like his; you were sure of it! You must’ve landed in another land other than your own, if that were the case.

But where, exactly? You thought.

“Briar Valley,” the horned-boy swiftly replied, “The palace, to be exact.”

“Briar Valley?! I must have traveled further than I thought, then!” a frazzled exclaim escaped your mouth as you struggled with your hands to prepare whatever spell had gotten you there in the first place. “I have to go right away! So sorry for intruding, uh…” a hesitant pause ensued as you held out a hand to the child, signaling an introduction from him.

“Malleus. My name is Malleus,” he softly gave you a smile.

You returned his smile with a grin of your own, shaking his hand, “Right. Thank you, Malleus. I’m (Y/n).”

“It was no issue.”

And with your final goodbyes to the fae you’d just met, Malleus then stood and followed your form as you disappeared to Sevens know where. The only remnants left of your presence were the gold, sparkling specs of magic that remained after you casted your spell, filling the palace garden with dust that resembled stars scattered throughout the greenery. Malleus, at the sight of your magic, had then begun to wonder just where you had come from and why you had landed there that day as quickly as you left. 

The chances of seeing you again were slim. Still, however…

“(Y/n),” Malleus had whispered to himself.

“A lovely name for a fae such as themselves, yes?”

a/n: ALL IN FAVOR FOR MORE RIVAL READER X VIL SAY AYEE-AYEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

god this was such a nightmare to finish iM SO GLAD I PULLED THROUGH THO I FR GAVE UP HALFWAY ESPECIALLY WITH IDIA'S-

[steddieas-shegoes]

Hi! Hope ur doing great! First of all, I really love your fics! I think you're really talented.

I have a request, if it's not too much trouble. I can't stop thinking about a Steve w/head trauma (so, maybe migraine prone, memory issues, etc) and a DM Eddie that still resents Steve from high school. Eddie doesn't know Steve struggles with the complications of his concussions, so he keeps judging him for it. Say, for example, Steve got a terrible migraine and couldn't pick the kids up from Dnd and Eddie thinks he's probably at a party and stood them up. Then Eddie finds out, maybe from Steve himself or a Party member or Steve's parents. (If you could somehow sneak in Steve's parents being good caring parents for one, it'd be really cool.) Eddie apologizes and they start getting closer. And, yeah, that's all. Thank you!!!

We know I love writing Steve with a migraine. Not to jinx anything, but it's been almost two weeks since I've had one myself so I'm sure the torture I put him through here will have instant karma and I will wake up with one. Is it realistic for Eddie to pretty much fall instantly in love with a man he hated the night before? No. Do I write realistic stories? No. Buckle up for the fastest burn you can possibly read today! - Mickala ❤️

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

Steve Harrington was late.

Not just a few minutes late, not like he maybe got held up at a light for an extra two minutes, not like he had to stop for gas.

He was 25 minutes late.

Eddie was pissed.

He didn’t mind hanging out with the kids longer, wouldn’t have even minded if he’d just been given a heads up that Steve would be late.

A phone call.

A fucking letter by pigeon.

Anything.

Dustin seemed worried, more than anyone else, though the later it got, the more Lucas and Will and Mike seemed to worry too.

And Eddie would maybe worry too, except he knew what was happening.

He knew because it’s all he ever expected of Steve.

Steve probably went to a party, thought he could make his rounds, maybe have a drink and sober up in time to come get the kids.

And then he probably got bribed into having another drink, maybe smoke a joint in the backyard of whatever rich kid’s house he was visiting, maybe have a shot with a group of kids who liked to spend their time bullying the very kids he was supposed to be picking up.

Maybe fuck a girl in a bedroom upstairs until he was too tired and just passed out on top of her.

He rolled his eyes at the thought.

“Maybe we could try to call his house again?” Lucas asked.

“He didn’t answer the first four times, why would he now?” Mike asked, though his eyes kept scanning the road into the trailer park, searching for headlights that wouldn’t appear.

And wasn’t that just the last straw for Eddie? Watching his favorite gremlins admire and respect someone who couldn’t even remember to pick them up? Watching them expect so much from a guy who peaked in high school, who didn’t care about them if it hindered his plans?

“You guys wait here,” he said, his hands shaking with anger.

“Where are you going?” Will asked.

“To call Robin. If anyone will know what’s up, she will,” he replied.

It was late, but not too late for a phone call between adults.

“Buckley residence, you’ve got Robin,” Robin answered the phone with a bored tone.

“Any clue why your best friend is 30 minutes late to pick the kids up from my house?” He tried not to sound angry at her, it wasn’t her fault.

But he couldn’t hide the fact that he didn’t understand what band nerd, lesbian, nice person Robin could possibly see in Steve.

Sure, he carted the kids around a lot, and had helped Wayne out with Eddie’s medical stuff after Vecna, but it felt like he did it out of guilt more than anything else.

“He’s never late,” she said, her tone sharp, defensive. “You sure he knew they needed rides?”

“Positive. I heard him yell to them when he dropped them off that he’d see them in three hours.”

Robin didn’t respond for a minute, and he almost thought the line went dead.

“Has Dustin tried the walkie?” She finally asked.

“Yeah. No answer.”

“Shit.”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Wanna fill me in here, Buckaroo?”

“Um. Can you bring the kids home? I gotta go check on him.”

Before he could respond, the dial tone let him know she was already gone.

“Fuck!” He yelled.

He hung up the phone and grit his teeth together.

The problem wasn’t taking the kids home, he really didn’t mind and had told them on multiple occasions that he could so they didn’t have to rely on Steve to do it.

The problem was that they had relied on Steve and he let them down.

He hated that he’d have to go out there and tell them that Steve wasn’t coming.

He hates Steve for the way he would have to watch their faces fall, for the way they’d ride to their homes in silence.

He hated Steve for the fact that he’d probably buy them all ice cream tomorrow to apologize and they’d all rely on him again.

All would be forgiven.

———————————-

The next morning, he tried calling Robin and got no answer.

He tried calling Dustin and got no answer, though he wasn’t as surprised by that since he’d already been considering going to the Sinclairs’ to spend the weekend since his mom was working.

He tried Steve’s house and got an answering machine. Twice.

He considered leaving a scathing message, but didn’t want to risk one of his parents hearing it and deleting it.

“Fuck it,” he said to himself before he grabbed his keys and decided to drive to Steve’s house.

He was a little surprised to actually see Steve’s car in the driveway, half expecting him to still be passed out at some stranger’s house.

Before he could ring the doorbell, the front door swung open and Robin’s wide eyes were silently begging him to stay quiet.

She looked exhausted, a little flustered, more stressed than he’d seen in a long time.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

Maybe Steve drank more than he should’ve, maybe he wasn’t actually home and she was trying to find him still.

“Come in but be quiet. He’s finally sleeping,” she said, already walking back into the house.

He followed, closing the door behind him and giving his surroundings a quick look.

Everything looked perfect as usual except for Robin’s shoes by the door and her backpack open on the floor by the couch.

The couch that Steve was currently passed out on, blankets almost completely covering his head, ice pack resting over his eyes.

Eddie’s brows furrowed.

“Hangover?” He whispered to Robin.

She looked at him confused.

“No? He hasn’t drank in nearly a year.”

If Eddie didn’t have more control over his body, his jaw would’ve dropped.

“Oh. Um. So is he sick?” Eddie tried to gather up his thoughts, glancing over at the sleeping form on the couch.

He noticed the curtains closed and no lights turned on, noticed the complete silence in the house except for the sound of a fan running in the corner.

“He gets migraines. I thought you knew,” she said.

Eddie shook his head.

“He’s had a lot of head trauma. Gets migraines that make it impossible to even sit up sometimes. I guess he was fighting it most of the day yesterday but after he dropped the kids off with you, he passed out in the shower and barely was able to crawl to his bed after. When you called me, I kind of assumed the worst, so I came straight here and saw him naked and shivering in bed, not able to get up to get dressed or even get the covers on. Got him dressed, got him water and meds, called his parents, tried to help him eat. He spent almost an hour throwing up after that. Then he cried because he forgot the kids. Memory problems happen with the head trauma, too. I couldn’t calm him down until about an hour ago.”

Eddie let himself feel the guilt he deserved for thinking the worst of Steve.

Steve didn’t deserve this. No one did.

“Does he need to go to the hospital?” Eddie whispered, his voice broken thinking about how Steve had been alone here, probably scared when he was curled up in his bed unable to move.

“No. His parents are on their way. If it’s not better tomorrow, they’ll probably take him to his neurologist,” Robin responded.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

A whimper came from the couch, causing Robin to tense and hold her breath.

Eddie looked over and waited to see if maybe Steve was completely awake or if he’d just made a noise in his sleep.

After a few seconds, Robin relaxed, and he felt a breath leave his body.

“How often does this happen?” he whispered as she went to grab a drink from the fridge.

“This bad? Once a month or so. He sometimes has some memory problems without the migraine, but luckily he snaps back quickly,” she shrugged, acted as if it wasn’t a big deal, but Eddie could see right through her.

“And you help him a lot?”

“Well, his parents travel a lot for work, and he can’t always call them or remember how to contact them when it’s this bad, so yeah. I tend to be the one to take care of him until they can get here,” she said.

Eddie chewed on a piece of his hair, glancing over towards the couch every few seconds.

He was surprised this hadn’t come up before.

He was even more surprised that none of the kids had mentioned this as a possibility last night.

“Why didn’t the kids mention it last night when I was pissed?” he finally asked.

“Steve doesn’t really tell anyone. Like, the kids know, but they’ve never actually seen it, and so I think they just kinda forget. He doesn’t wanna bother them with it.”

“That’s stupid, they care about h-”

The front door started to open and a woman peeked her head inside.

Robin ran over as quickly and quietly as she could and Eddie stood awkwardly behind the couch as a middle aged woman walked into the house.

A man followed a few seconds after, a bag in hand.

“Is he asleep?” the woman asked.

“Yeah,” Robin replied before explaining much of what she’d already told Eddie to them.

The Harringtons looked surprisingly put together for a couple who probably hadn’t slept all night and most likely had flown home from somewhere as quickly as they could. They also looked nothing like what Eddie expected.

Mr. Harrington was bald, age spots on his head giving away that he must have been quite a few years older than Mrs. Harrington. She had the same color hair as Steve, same voluminous style, cut just above the shoulders. They both wore glasses, and both of them were wearing business attire like they’d rushed back directly from a meeting.

“And who is this?” he heard Mr. Harrington ask, gesturing towards Eddie.

He walked over and put his hand out to shake, trying to remember the best manners he could.

“I’m Eddie, a friend of Steve’s.”

He could feel Robin staring at him, but didn’t turn towards her. Instead, he shook Mrs. Harrington’s hand and then offered to help with any other bags they have.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. We can get them later. Since he’s asleep, we’re gonna go freshen up a bit and then you can head on home. Thank you for taking care of him, Robin. You know we appreciate you so much,” Mrs. Harrington said as she hugged her.

“It’s never a problem. Take your time,” she said.

“I’ll stay, Robin. You should go home and sleep,” Eddie offered before he could think about what he was offering.

“You’ll stay? With Steve?” Robin asked incredulously.

“Yeah. He seems pretty out of it so I’m sure he won’t even wake up before they’re done,” Eddie said, hopeful that he was right.

“Alright, my mom should be here in a few minutes anyway. She was bringing me a change of clothes in case I ended up staying today, so she can just bring me home,” Robin said hesitantly.

“Okay.”

The Harringtons nodded and walked upstairs without another word, most likely too tired to care much about who stayed with Steve as long as he was being looked after.

“Eddie, you don’t have to do this,” Robin said when they were gone.

“I know. But I’m the only one here who slept last night, I can handle it for a bit.”

“He can be…kind of a lot,” she sounded like she didn’t want to admit it, didn’t like saying something negative about him at all.

“It’s fine. If he’s in this much pain, then it’s understandable.”

Robin looked him over for a moment, something like understanding finally showing on her face. He didn’t know what she was understanding, but he was just grateful she didn’t seem to want to talk more.

She started zipping up her backpack, putting on her shoes, and whispering some basic instructions to Eddie in case Steve woke up.

“Replace the ice pack, don’t let him try to move off the couch by himself and only if he has to use the bathroom. The bucket at the end of the couch is if he gets sick. He needs water if you can try to help him drink some, and if he thinks he can stomach it, there’s some crackers on the coffee table. He’s due for more meds in two hours, but you probably won’t be here for that,” she rambled off.

Eddie nodded along, mentally making a to-do list.

“You’re sure you got it? He sometimes isn’t able to talk.”

Jesus Christ, how had he never noticed this? Was he that oblivious to what Steve was going through?

“I got it.”

He could hear a car pull into the driveway and Robin opened the door to leave.

“If you need me, call me. The Harringtons will probably be as quick as possible, but just in case,” she begged him.

“Okay.”

She left and closed the door behind her quietly, leaving Eddie staring at it for a minute.

He heard a small whimper from the couch and he rushed over, looking down at Steve.

The ice pack had fallen off his face, and his eyes were scrunched closed like he was still suffering even in his sleep.

Eddie leaned over to pick up the ice pack, ready to trade it out with a fresh one, when one of Steve’s eyes opened.

He froze and looked at him, hoping he would go back to sleep quickly.

“Eds?”

Shit.

He’d started calling him Eds in the hospital, always walking into his room with a bright smile and a ‘hey, Eds’ that had Eddie cracking a small smile.

He hadn’t heard it since then.

“Yeah?” he finally responded, trying to keep his voice as soft as possible.

He knew when Wayne got headaches, he was very sensitive to noise.

“Hurts,” Steve whimpered out.

Eddie’s heart shattered in his chest.

He walked closer to the couch and knelt down on his knees, placing a hand on Steve’s forehead.

“I know, Stevie. You wanna try to have a sip of water for me?” He whispered.

“No, hurts.”

“Might help,” Eddie tried to bribe him.

But Steve’s eyes were closed again, and even though he wasn’t asleep, he was making it very clear that he couldn’t quite handle keeping them open right now.

Eddie gently ran his fingers back and forth across his forehead, down his nose, along his temples, smiling as Steve’s wrinkles seemed to disappear, his face relaxing slowly.

“Go back to sleep, Stevie,” he whispered.

“Mhm,” Steve let out before he seemed to actually fall back asleep.

—------------------------------

Eddie didn’t move from his spot for nearly 45 minutes, even when his legs went numb and his hand started cramping.

Steve hadn’t so much as snored, so Eddie didn’t want to risk any movement waking him up.

“Would you like something to drink?” Mrs. Harrington asked him, startling him slightly.

“No, thank you,” Eddie responded as quietly as possible.

“Are you the Eddie from the hospital? The one he insisted on visiting every day?” she asked as she sat down on the coffee table right next to him.

“Um, yes ma’am,” he knew he sounded nervous.

“Oh, so you boys worked it all out? He promised he’d tell me if you said yes!” she smiled at him.

“Worked…what out?”

Her eyes widened.

“Your feelings! Steve told us he was going over to your house the day you got out of the hospital and telling you how he felt,” she explained, sounding somewhat unsure now.

Eddie felt like his stomach had dropped to the floor.

“He what?”

“Oh dear,” she said, wringing her hands in her lap. “I suppose I was wrong.”

Eddie saw Mr. Harrington walk into the kitchen from his spot on the floor, felt the tension in the air as Mrs. Harrington tried to change the subject quickly.

But he wasn’t going to stop thinking about what she meant.

Steve had had feelings for him? Like, more than a friend feelings?

Steve let out a small groan in his sleep, shifting his head a bit.

Eddie tried to shush him a bit, running his fingers gently through his hair, careful not to catch on any tangles.

He could feel Mrs. Harrington watching, but she didn’t say anything else until Steve seemed to calm again.

“You know, Steve came out to us in March. Said he’d met a guy who was worth the risk. We love him, we always will, but we were very worried. I think any parent worries when their child, even their grown ones, says they’re in love with someone. In this case, we didn’t know if you felt the same, or if you even liked men. And Steve here tends to fall fast and fall hard and forgets to wear a parachute before the jump.”

Eddie didn’t say anything, his head filled with the way she’d called his feelings love.

“But I think I see now that he didn’t need one. I think he had you jumping with him and you remembered the parachute for him.”

He turned to look at her, her fond smile pointed at them both as he continued to run his fingers through Steve’s hair.

She got up and went into the kitchen, leaving Eddie to think about what she said.

That’s all he did for a while.

—---------------------------------------

The next time Steve woke up, he was slightly more coherent, but still didn’t want to eat or drink.

Mrs. Harrington had gone to lay down for a nap while Mr. Harrington was finishing up something in his office. They both told him to come find them if Steve woke up and needed something.

At some point, Eddie had rested his head against Steve’s chest, listening to his heart beat loudly against his ear.

“Eddie?”

No, why Eddie again? Why not Eds?

“Hey, Stevie,” he lifted his head and spoke just above a whisper. “How about a few sips of water?”

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can. I’ll help.”

Robin had been kind enough to find a straw for the cup of water she’d gotten before she left, so Eddie just held it up close to Steve’s lips and told him to sip.

Steve did manage a few sips before he shook his head and started to turn away.

“It’s time for more meds. Wanna take them?” Eddie asked.

“Bed?”

“Um.”

“Carry me.”

Eddie let out a small laugh at the demanding tone in Steve’s voice.

Even through the pain, and exhaustion, and struggle of speaking, he sounded like a drama queen.

Eddie might love him.

“Won’t that hurt?”

“A little.”

“Then shouldn’t you stay here?”

“Wanna cuddle.”

Oh.

“Uh. With…your mom?”

“You.”

Eddie was going to pass out.

There was no way he’d be able to carry Steve up the stairs to his room and then cuddle with him, and pretend he wasn’t feeling the overwhelming urge to propose marriage.

These new feelings kicked in too fast for him to process and he knew cuddling wouldn’t help.

“Please?” Steve asked, his eyes squinting slightly from what little light was making it through the curtains.

“Okay, but don’t laugh when I get out of breath.”

Steve didn’t respond, or really do anything to acknowledge what Eddie said, but he was pretty sure Steve’s head hurt too much to laugh anyway so he took a chance.

He removed the blankets on top of him and managed to pick him up relatively easily.

The walk to the stairs wasn’t bad.

The walk up the stairs was rough for a couple reasons: One, Eddie was out of shape and Steve weighed roughly the same as him. Two, Steve kept whimpering in pain with every step.

When they finally reached his bedroom, Eddie was panting and Steve had a couple tears falling from his eyes.

“I sure hope the cuddling lives up to expectations after that,” Eddie tried to joke.

“Worth it,” Steve sighed.

He set Steve in his bed first, made sure the fan in the room was on and the curtains were shut, then got into his bed.

People dreamed for most of high school to be in this position, but Eddie hadn’t let himself picture it.

He wouldn’t have ever pictured this scenario anyway.

Steve was sweaty, almost like he was running a fever, but Eddie didn’t let that deter him from scooting closer and moving Steve into his arms.

They both fell asleep in minutes, Eddie’s fingers wrapped up in Steve’s hair.

—----------------------------------------

When Eddie woke again, it was pitch black in the room.

Steve was also awake.

“Stevie? You need something? Feeling any better?”

He didn’t answer for a minute, and Eddie considered running to get one of his parents, when he finally spoke up.

“A little. Thanks”

Eddie let out a breath and relaxed back against the pillows under him.

“You can go if you want,” Steve nearly whispered into the darkness.

Eddie tensed again as he looked over at Steve, who was playing with the blanket covering him in his hands, not looking at Eddie.

“And if I don’t want to?” Eddie asked, reaching a hand out to hold Steve’s.

“I know you hate me, so. You can go.”

Well, that just wouldn’t do.

Eddie couldn’t let him think he hated him, even though up until this morning, he thought he did.

“Stevie, lay down and look at me.”

Steve, surprisingly, listened and Eddie felt a tug at his heart that Steve was willing to listen to him that easily.

Eddie cupped Steve’s jaw, gentle in case of any lingering migraine pains.

“I don’t hate you. I think I realized that maybe I had my own feelings wrong for a long time,” he admitted.

“What?”

“The best part of my days in the hospital were when you visited. Wayne used to make fun of me when you left for being stuck in the hospital for longer because I was lovesick. And when I got home and you didn’t come visit unless you were bringing the kids by, I just kinda thought it meant things were back to normal. King Steve didn’t need to be nice anymore, his charity case was safe and mostly healed,” Eddie stopped Steve from interrupting at that, scared to lose his train of thought. “So I went back to hating you. It’s easier to hate someone when your heart’s broken, ya know? And I just assumed you were the same Steve I thought you always were. But then I realized that you never really were the Steve I thought you were. And especially now, you’re a guy who deserves kindness and care and love. I’d really like the chance to give that to you.”

He felt Steve’s face getting wet and he brushed his thumbs back and forth to wipe away the tears falling.

“I was going to tell you the day you got out of the hospital,” Steve said, voice trembling.

“Tell me what?”

“That I loved you.”

The world stopped spinning, Eddie would bet money on it.

“You did?”

“I did.” Steve gulped. “I do.”

“You do?”

“You’re a hard person to fall out of love with, Munson.”

It was Eddie’s turn to cry, a few tears falling from his eyes onto the pillowcase below.

“So…”

“So?” Steve asked.

“Is the headache better? I’d really like to kiss you,” Eddie said.

“It’s good enough for a kiss. Might even work better than the meds,” Steve’s smirk could be seen even in the darkness.

Eddie didn’t need to wait for more permission than that.

He was gentle, of course. Just because his migraine had gotten better, didn’t mean he was ready to make out.

He gave him a couple soft pecks on the lips, smiling when he felt Steve smiling against him.

“I think you’re probably pretty easy to fall in love with, Harrington.”

“Yeah?” he asked, voice rough.

“Yeah, might be a new record for me.”

“I’ve been told it’s very sexy when I’m suffering through a migraine,” Steve joked.

“You have no idea,” Eddie joked back.

They stayed in bed all night, Steve eventually falling back asleep again.

Eddie stayed awake though, memorizing the shape of Steve’s body with his fingers, or at least what he could reach while he held him.

They could talk more tomorrow, when Steve’s migraine fully subsided.

But Eddie knew what he wanted now, and he’d never been so happy to be wrong about someone.

[genderkoolaid]

sorry if you've talked about it already, but what is it that makes KOSA's idea of online safety wrong? I don't know much about the bill, what does it intend to do?

What do you think is a good way to protect kids from things like online predators or just seeing things that they shouldn't be seeing? (By which I mean sex and graphic violence, things which you'd need to be 16+ to see in a movie theater so I think it makes sense to not want pre-teens to see it)

From stopkosa.com:

Why is KOSA a bad bill? KOSA uses two methods to “protect” kids, and both of them are awful. First, KOSA would incentivize social media platforms to erase content that could be deemed “inappropriate” for minors. The problem is: there is no consensus on what is inappropriate for minors. All across the country we are seeing how lawmakers are attacking young people’s access to gender affirming healthcare, sex education, birth control, and abortion. Online communities and resources that queer and trans youth depend on as lifelines should not be subject to the whims of the most rightwing extremist powers and we shouldn’t give them another tool to harm marginalized communities.  Second, KOSA would ramp up the online surveillance of all internet users by expanding the use of age verification and parental monitoring tools. Not only are these tools needlessly invasive, they’re a massive safety risk for young people who could be trying to escape domestic violence and abuse.

I’ve heard there’s a new version of KOSA. What’s the deal? The new version of KOSA makes some good changes: narrowing the ability of rightwing attorneys general to weaponize KOSA to target content they don’t like and limiting the problematic “duty of care. However, because the bill is still not content neutral, KOSA still invites the harms that civil rights advocates have warned about. As LGBTQ and reproductive rights groups have said for months, the fundamental problem with KOSA is that its “duty of care” covers content specific aspects of content recommendation systems, and the new changes fail to address that. In fact, personalized recommendation systems are explicitly listed under the definition of a design feature covered by the duty of care in the new version. This means that a future Federal Trade Commission (FTC) could still use KOSA to pressure platforms into automated filtering of important, but controversial topics like LGBTQ issues and abortion, by claiming that algorithmically recommending such content “causes” mental health outcomes that are covered by the duty of care like anxiety and depression. Bans on inclusive books, abortion, and gender affirming healthcare have been passed on exactly that kind of rhetoric in many states recently. And we know that already existing content filtering systems impact content from marginalized creators exponentially more, resulting in discrimination and censorship. It’s also important to remember that algorithmic recommendation includes, for example, showing a user a post from a friend that they follow, since most platforms do not show all users all posts, but curate them in some way. As long as KOSA’s duty of care isn’t content neutral, platforms will be likely to react the same way that they did to the broad liability imposed by SESTA/FOSTA: by engaging in aggressive filtering and suppression of important, and in some cases lifesaving, content.

Why it's bad:

The way it's written (even after being changed, which the website also goes over), it is still possible for this law to be used to restrict things like queer content, discussion of reproductive rights and resources, and sexual education.

It will restrict youth's ability to use the Internet independently, essentially cutting off life support to many vulnerable people who rely on the Internet to learn that they are queer, being abused, disabled, etc.

Better alternatives:

Stop relying on ageist ideas of purity and innocence. When we focus on protecting the "purity" of youth, we dehumanize them and it becomes more about soothing adult anxieties than actually improving the lives of children.

Making sure content (sexual, violent, etc.) is marked/tagged and made avoidable for anyone who doesn't want to engage with it.

Teach children why certain things may be upsetting and how best to avoid those things.

Teach children how to recognize grooming and abuse and empower them to stop it themselves.

Teach children how to recognize fear, discomfort, trauma, and how to cope with those experiences.

The Internet makes a great boogeyman. But the idea that it is uniquely corrupting the Pure Innocent Youth relies on the idea that all children are middle-class suburban White kids from otherwise happy homes. What about the children who see police brutality on their front lawns, against their family members? How are we protecting them from being traumatized? Or children who are seeing and experiencing physical and sexual violence in their own homes, by the parents who prevent them from realizing what's happening by restricting their Internet usage? How does strengthening parent's rights stop those kids from being groomed? Or the kids who grow up in evangelical Christian homes and are given graphic descriptions of the horrors of the Apocalypse and told if they ever question their parents, they'll be left behind?

Children live in the same world we do. There are children who are already intimately aware of violence and "adult" topics because of their lived experiences. Actually protecting children means being concerned about THEIR human rights, it means empowering them to save themselves, it means giving them the tools to understand their own feelings and traumas. KOSA is just another in a long line of attempts to "save the children!" by dehumanizing them and giving more power to the people most likely to abuse them. We need to stop trying to protect children's "innocence" and appreciate that children are already growing, changing people, learning to deal with discomfort and pain and the weight of the world the same as everyone else. What people often think keeps kids safe really just keeps them ignorant and quiet.

Another explanation as to why it's bad:

[cobaltperun]

Woe out the Storm (8) - What have you done

Wednesday Addams x female Reader

Summary: It took some time, but eventually you came to realize only Wednesday Addams could look at the raging storm of chaos and destruction and make a home out of it. Only she could listen to the cacophony of the roaring thunder and hear a melody.

Story warnings: Wednesday Addams, violence, slow burn

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

Word count: 4.9k

-There's a curse between us, between me and you-

Wednesday could admit her interests weren't ordinary, she could admit that neither she nor her family conformed to the norms of the society. She believed in different values; she ranked those values in a way most people wouldn’t. Not choosing violence was, for example, ranked very lowly. And she wasn’t opposed to murder and torture either.

Truthfully, it wasn’t the fact that her father was accused of murder that bothered her, it was the fact that she heard about it from a stranger. He was supposed to be an open book, honest with her, with their family and her mother was supposed to be the same. Despite that, they hid the truth from her.

When she set those piranhas loose, fully intending to kill Pugsley’s bully as an act of revenge, she openly told her parents about it. She expected the same openness from them. The society rejected them, deemed them too morbid and weird to be seen as normal; being an Addams meant only relying on select few, mostly family. So, she valued being honest and trusting those select few above nearly anything else.

And they, for their own reasons, betrayed that trust and put her in a position to learn about it in the worst way possible.

To make matters even worse, her father refused to be open with her yet again. He still wouldn’t tell her the truth about what happened, even now that he was behind bars.

Somehow, perhaps against her better judgment, she ended up in front of your shed. It was the first time she came here, the first time she’d step inside. She heard laughter from within and froze just as she was about to reach out for the doorknob. Of course. It was the Parents’ weekend, and you were with your mother. Enid mentioned in passing that you had a good relationship with your mother, that the two of you were close and that you missed her.

You maintained a close relationship with your mother, something Wednesday wasn’t capable of doing, even if she did deeply care about her family and despite knowing they loved her just as much. So, instead of interrupting you and asking you to help her find more clues that could help her prove her father’s innocence, she turned around and left. She’d have to go to her mother after all.

As she walked away, she began to wonder why she wanted you to help her, and truthfully, she didn’t quite understand it. She was perfectly capable of handling this on her own. Maybe it was because you just accepted her, never demanding from her to change, yet still being unapologetically you even when it meant you pushed Wednesday out of her comfort zone, like when you wiped that paint off her hands and face last week.

Or maybe it was as simple as you being honest with her, not once hiding the truth and in turn being frustrated by her own lack of honesty when she didn’t tell you she asked Xavier to go to the dance with her. While Wednesday couldn’t say you ranked honesty as high as she did, she could say you valued it.

If she was completely honest, even with just herself, she might have had it in her to admit the vision she had during Rave’N and what happened with Eugene had a lot to do with that as well. Somehow, deep down, Wednesday convinced herself that if she was there, close to you, maybe that vision wouldn’t come true, and she wouldn’t have to visit you at the hospital or attend your funeral.

~X~

You didn’t always understand how lucky you were. Oftentimes as a child you wondered why you couldn’t have a regular family, with two parents present in your life. Dad was with you a few days a year, around your birthday, and always secretly. Your mom did everything she could, even back then you guessed she did more for you than most single mothers could, but you had some resentment toward your dad.

‘Why couldn’t he be normal, or any other kind of outcast? Why did he have to be a raiju?!’ that’s what you wondered for years, despising the restrictions being a raiju brought to your life. Fear and hatred caused you to separate the beast from yourself, you were a raiju, but the beast was, in your mind, the entirely different being, a creature that had nothing to do with you. The beast was dangerous, uncontrollable, and you despised it for what it could do to your loved ones or innocent bystanders.

The truth was that you should have begun going to Nevermore much earlier, the moment you showed the first signs of lightning, actually. But you cried and screamed at the mere thought of leaving your mother’s side, and she refused to even consider sending you to Nevermore, or anywhere else, unless you wanted to go. You were eight and she was the only real family you had.

‘Do not underestimate my child,’ she’d say whenever someone told her it was too dangerous to keep you outside of Nevermore, that you’d lose control and hurt or kill someone. Neither side was right though.

It was more of a miracle, than anything else, that dad was home when there was a huge storm when you were twelve, otherwise you really could have hurt someone. That was when your resentment toward your dad began fading away, when he calmed you down, when he taught you how to better control your lightning, when he made sure you didn’t hurt anyone, especially your mom. That was also when you finally agreed to go to Nevermore, because you could no longer risk it.

In the four years that followed your relationship with your dad improved, he dropped by more often, whenever you truly needed him. When you shifted for the first time, or when you really wanted to talk to him, he wouldn’t arrive immediately, but he’d come and see you. So, when you saw Enid’s parents you just decided that you were lucky, that you had a loving mom that accepted you for who and what you were, and that your dad, while not always there, was by your side when you needed him.

And he would come now as well.

So, that was your family, and you wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world.

With those thoughts filling your head you stepped into your room with a bounce to your steps. That energy dropped to a more usual intensity when you saw Enid, lying with her arms spread on her bed. “You’re not a disappointment,” you immediately said as you went over to her side of the room and sat down next to her.

“Tell that to my mother,” she sighed and looked to the side. This wasn’t Enid’s usual mood, even when she was upset, she made sure everyone knew that. Her energy was more similar to Wednesday, if Wednesday ever sulked. And it really made you wish you could help her, actually help her and not just stand by her and offer support when she needed it.

“I will if you let me,” and you were completely serious, if only Enid allowed it, you would gladly have a long chat with Esther Sinclair.

Enid smiled a bit and reached out to you. “Thanks, Y/N.”

You smiled back, taking her hand and squeezing it, offering Enid at least some small comfort.

“How come you aren’t with Wednesday?” she asked out of blue, and you had to resist an urge to facepalm at that. Your eye still twitched, and she probably noticed. “I’m not teasing, she was just looking for you, she even asked me where your shed is!”

That was odd. “Why? Isn’t she with her family?”

Enid sat up, now realizing you really didn’t see Wednesday since this morning. “Her dad got arrested for murder and I think she plans to prove he is innocent,” Enid caught you up to speed with what happened.

You couldn’t help but get a bad feeling in your bones. “Murder + family matters + Wednesday? Yeah, she’s going to do something illegal and morally even more questionable, isn’t she?” you sighed, looking at the goth girl’s part of the room.

Enid laughed uncomfortably. “I mean…” she trialed off, she really didn’t need to finish her sentence, you could figure it out yourself.

“She’s going to dig the victim up, isn’t she?” you were just about ready to run headfirst into a wall and pretend you didn’t know she was probably going to get into trouble.

“Maybe sit this one out?” Enid offered, and if you were at least a bit logical and driven by reason you would have listened to her.

You weren’t. You were driven by emotions and much like lightning those were difficult to control sometimes. Especially the ones connected to Wednesday Addams. “If I get locked up for this, don’t break me out. I’ll deserve every second of my punishment for being at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“On the brighter side,” Enid’s smirk was already terrifying enough. “You could break you and Wednesday out and go into hiding,” she laughed as your eyes widened and you looked at her incredulously. “She might actually love that!”

“I hate you,” you grumbled as you stood up and took a few deep breaths, you’d prefer to avoid living the rest of your life on the run. Dad being on the run from someone was already one family member living like that too many. You didn’t even know who he was hiding from. You just knew it was serious enough for you to be given your mom’s last name instead of his.

~X~

Wednesday was, indeed, digging up a grave, in fact, she was nearly done when you ran up to her and her mother. “Please tell me you are nearly done,” you whisper-yelled at her. “Hello, Mrs. Addams, it’s good to see you again,” you politely greeted her mother, who nodded with a smile, and then you immediately turned back to Wednesday. “There’s no way this can end well, you know?” it wasn’t even about what she was doing, Wednesday was going to be Wednesday and there was nothing you could do about that, you just wished she would have done it when it was even less risky. Like, way past midnight, with you there to watch out for the police, not like this, just before midnight and without you to stand watch.

“We’ll need to show it as evidence anyway, and they’ll figure out it was us no matter what we do,” Wednesday pointed out and you opened your mouth to respond, but you really couldn’t argue with that logic.

Well, at least she already opened the coffin before you showed up. “Right,” you frowned and stepped down, inspecting the coffin. “If you want me to, I think I can magnetize it and pull it out. Maybe. I never tried to do it with anything this heavy,” and just as you reached down bright light shined on all three of you. “Either the ground swallows me right now, or dad will ground me for the rest of my life,” you just raised your hands in surrender as police arrived.

“There’s a hole right here,” Wednesday suggested.

“I’m not sharing unless it’s with you, Addams,” you deadpanned, missing the way Wednesday’s eyes widened, and the way her breath hitched, and the way her cheeks darkened just a bit.

“Oh my, how awfully unhinged,” Morticia commented, and you’ve been around Wednesday and Thing long enough to figure out that wasn’t meant to mean what it usually meant. So, you just gave a thumbs up as you got out of the grave, earning a graceful, elegant smile from the older woman.

~X~

Well, at least you weren’t all alone, that was a positive, right? Nope! Because Wednesday’s parents couldn’t keep their hands off each other, and there were bars between them! Suddenly, you understood exactly why Wednesday would be averse to shows of affection and the idea of a relationship. They were unapologetically in love, and very passionate about showing that love, and you could admire that, to an extent, but still!

“Not even the long arm of law could keep us apart!” Gomez went right back to kissing Morticia.

“At least we’ll have one last night together!” maybe breaking out wasn’t the worst idea, because you doubted you could listen to them all night.

And Wednesday was right there!

“I’ve seen jackals with more self-control than you two,” Wednesday somehow managed to get them to stop, though they didn’t properly separate. “Neither one of you is strong enough to serve hard time. And thanks to me you won’t have to,” she said.

“I’ll pretend I’m not included in that. The strong enough part,” you grinned a bit.

“You especially aren’t strong enough to serve hard time,” she shut you down without even a hint of hesitation.

Well, you guessed that was fair.

“I knew our little jailbird will have an escape plan,” Gomez exclaimed as she showed a finger to the three of you wrapped in a black handkerchief.

“It’s a souvenir from our outing, I borrowed it from Garrett, he died from nightshade poisoning,” she explained as her mom took the finger.

“How come the police didn’t find it?” and then you remembered this was Wednesday you were talking about, she probably glared, and they locked her up without even searching her. ”Yeah, don’t answer that one.

The very corner of her lip twitched up as she glanced at you, as if pleased by your realization. “The remarkable preservation of soft tissue and blue tint confirms it.”

“Which means Garrett was dying-” her mom realized.

“-before you stabbed him,” Wednesday finished.

Her parents looked at one another. “You look even more ravishing as an innocent woman,” and they were back to kissing.

“I’m not entirely sure that’s how this situation works, but sure,” you looked away. You guessed poison being there proved self-defense though, and that might just be enough to drop charges. Although, knowing Wednesday she had something else up her sleeve as well.

“For once could you two get off of each other and focus?” Wednesday asked and reached out for the finger. The moment she touched it a vision struck her, and you were immediately behind her, holding her up.

You looked at her parents and saw they recognized what happened to Wednesday, which was a relief. Though, there was some surprise on their faces. She probably never mentioned her visions to either of them.

“Wednesday,” her mom leaned in a bit as Wednesday woke up from her vision. “Did you have a vision? What happened? What did you see?”

You stepped to the side, no longer worried that she might fall. Sometimes she fell, sometimes she didn’t, you really couldn’t be too cautious.

“The night Garrett died he had a vial of nightshade poison that broke in his pocket. He wasn’t just trying to kill father, he was going to use the nightshade poison to murder the entire school,” she explained.

~X~

“The sweet taste of freedom! How I missed you!” you exclaimed when you were finally set free. At the same time as Gomez, actually, maybe the sheriff was being petty over you electrocuting his son last year, in which case you could get behind that. “I don’t think we met, I’m Y/N,” you raised your hand to greet Wednesday’s brother.

He nodded, smiling a bit. “I’m Pugsley, thanks for going to jail with Wednesday,” he said sheepishly, though he took cover behind a rather tall man when Wednesday glared at him.

You grinned a bit at that and contemplated just leaving so the family could have a moment on their own.

“Don’t even think about leaving, we’ll go back to Nevermore together,” Wednesday said before you could even consider that idea properly.

“You’re the boss, Wednesday,” you grinned cheekily, much to her annoyance.

You still stood aside, giving them enough space and privacy. You still smiled when Wednesday accepted a family hug.

And then your blood ran cold.

You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up as the chill ran down your spine. You could recognize the electricity in the air, and you knew it was too late. "I'm going to be grounded for the rest of my teenage life," you swallowed the lump that formed in your throat and if this was an anime or a cartoon you were sure you'd have cartoonish tears falling down your cheeks.

He appeared in a burst of lightning, as in control as ever, with that bright orange lightning surrounding him and moving to his will. "Gomez! Why is my daughter in prison, Gomez?!" your dad was pissed, he was beyond angry as he stomped over to Gomez and pointed a finger at his chest. "How did you being accused of murder get her in jail?! Oh, hello Morticia, you look amazing as always," how he flipped between nearly yelling at Gomez to politely complimenting Morticia in a split second you would never understand. You could never.

"You look good as well, Elijah, it's nice to see you after all these years," Morticia greeted him with grace that shouldn't have been a part of her ordinary behavior, yet here you were.

You slowly took a few steps back, hoping to flee while he was distracted by Wednesday's parents.

Wait…

He knew Wednesday’s parents?

"Y/N is your daughter?" Gomez and Morticia seemed to be genuinely surprised. You couldn't blame them, with the different last name and everything.

"My pride and joy, yes," your dad said, momentarily forgetting about the issue at hand and grinning proudly.

It made you stop as you took in the pride in his gaze. You didn’t think five words could have such an effect on you. Despite his absence, when he was there he was a great father, and to hear that he was proud of you made you smile.

“So, about my daughter being in jail,” apparently, he wasn’t going to drop it, so you slowly began backing away again. “Now where do you think you are going, Y/N?” well, so much for escaping silently.

“I just remembered something! See you later, Wednesday!” you were just about to turn into lightning when bright orange lightning circled you.

“Don’t even think about that, kid,” you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Now that’s just unfair,” your eyes changed back from red to your usual eye color and you slumped to the ground, defeated. Of course he’d use his stronger lightning to prevent you from using your own lightning.

“Elijah, Y/N was there for our Wednesday, don’t be too strict with her,” Morticia came to your defense, and you felt like you’d eternally be grateful to the woman if it worked.

“Your Wednesday?” your dad repeated and blinked a few times, his eyes changing into their natural color, the same eye color you had. He glanced down, right at Wednesday who seemed to be genuinely interested in him. “Ah, Anna did mention a new roommate,” he was piecing together whatever information he had. “The fuck is this Gomez? Another Addams-raiju roommate situation?”

Your jaw dropped at that and you looked at Wednesday only to see well-concealed but definitely there shock on her face too. The two of you looked at each other and then at your fathers. “What the?!” you couldn’t help but yell.

Gomez laughed at that. “It looks like that’s exactly the case,” he agreed as the lightning around you disappeared and you approached the group.

“Wait, the roommate you told me about was Wednesday’s dad?” you asked, still unable to fully process the new information.

Your dad nodded. “Yeah, something like that,” he turned to Wednesday. “Uh, there was a storm, and I lost control for a bit while Gomez and Fester were there, luckily I didn’t hurt them, but, I could have,” he looked away, ashamed of losing control like that.

Wednesday took that information in and looked at you as if she just figured something out. You didn’t like that look on her face.

“Elijah left Nevermore after that, and we haven’t seen or heard from him since. I never made the connection between Y/N and him,” Morticia said, mostly to Wednesday.

“Anna and I figured it was safer for Y/N to take Anna’s last name,” your dad explained. “Not that it helped you to stay out of jail, you little troublemaker,” he pulled you in, ruffling your hair.

You pulled away, annoyed that he kept that habit. “No comment,” you rolled your eyes.

“Just be happy I convinced Weems not to call Anna,” your dad said and took a few steps back. “Come on, now, say goodbyes and follow me, Y/N,” his eyes turned orange once again. “Gomez, Morticia, it was good seeing you and your family. Wednesday, thank you,” and he burst into lightning and went in the direction of the woods.

“Does he not realize that I can’t do that?” you just watched the spot where he was standing moments ago.

“Why did he thank me?” Wednesday asked you.

You lightly rubbed the side of your neck. “Uh, don’t worry about it. Dad can be a bit random at times,” you sighed and pulled out your lucky knife. “I’ll see you later!” and off you went, one burst of lightning at a time.

~X~

You were out of breath and on your hands and knees when you caught up with your dad and he didn’t look even a bit tired. Guess you still had a long way to go. No shit, your lightning was still red, Still, his was orange, and that was just one level stronger than your own. Just how strong would a raiju with yellow let alone blue lightning be? You moved so you could sit down and hung your head low, still trying to catch your breath.

“You did good, that was faster than I expected,” he still praised you, smiling proudly as he sat with his back against a tree.

You shook your head. “It’s not nearly as fast as it should be,” you rejected the compliment.

He sighed, standing up and approaching you. He sat down on the ground a few feet from you. “I don’t care about how things should be, Y/N, I just want you to be happy and healthy,” he said softly.

“I know,” you smiled, having heard those words plenty of times. It was still hard to believe in them. Not because he ever did anything to make you doubt those words, but because it simply felt too good to be true. Just look at Enid’s parents, you couldn’t imagine them, especially Esther, saying something like that to Enid. Although, Wednesday’s parents seemed content with Wednesday just being happy in her own way as well.

“This,” he gathered some lightning between his palms and raised his hands toward you. “it’s not a curse, Y/N, and neither are our beast forms.”

The smile fell off your face as you raised your head to glare at him. “Don’t give me that. Not after you left this place because you were also afraid of these powers, of hurting people!” you yelled, red sparks dancing around you almost out of control.

And then his eyes turned yellow, and you jumped to your feet and put at least some distance between the two of you. Yellow lightning raged around him and he roared, loud and powerful, and animalistic, and moments later a huge golden bear stood in his place. He was much bigger than even a grizzly bear, as it was usually the case with raiju. There was barely any lightning coming from his body and you could only stare in awe. The less lightning there was, the more in control the person was, and your dad only had lightning coming from his eyes and front paws. He growled, though there was no threat in it, as if telling you to shift as well.

“I can’t, I can’t control it,” you refused, closing your eyes and turning away from him.

“This is your best chance. While I’m here everything will be fine even if you lose control,” he shifted back. “You’re at your limit. You’ve been restraining it for over two years, and the more you restrain it, the more painful it gets. It might be the next time there’s a storm, or on the fifth, or even tenth storm from today, but you will shift no matter how much you discharge,” he sighed, firmly grasping your shoulder. “Fear isn’t bad, Y/N, but don’t be afraid of yourself. If you aren’t ready to shift now, it’s fine, but give me a call when you feel like you’re ready,” it was the reassurance you needed. His words, his control over his beast form, it eased your worries, even if only a little bit. It gave you hope that maybe you could eventually control your own beast form.

“Okay, I’ll call you when I’m ready,” you promised and hugged him.

He hugged you back, sighing. “I don’t want to scare you, but you need to know one thing. With how inexperienced you are, no matter what happens, do not shift twice in a row. Even if you stay in control the first time, you won’t be able to control it the second time,” his words were definitive, there was no doubt there, for him, or for you.

“I know,” you whispered. “I know.”

“We’re not separate from that form, it’s as much a part of us as the lightning,” and lightning couldn’t do anything but destroy, it was too powerful to contain, direct and use for anything but battle. That was what lightning was, and that was what made it so frightening to take a form of a beast made of lightning.

~X~

The Parents’ weekend was coming to a close, her parents, Pugsley and Lurch were leaving. Your father already left, as did most of the families. You were close to her, seeing as you just said goodbye to your father and he wanted to say goodbye to her parents one more time, and meet Pugsley this time. So, even after your father left, you stayed nearby, waiting for Wednesday so the two of you could go back to your room.

You wouldn’t be waiting for much longer, her mother said her goodbyes, showing Wednesday affection in a way Wednesday was comfortable with, with air kisses and turning to leave.

Wednesday paused, contemplating her choices. Finally, the need to understand, the need to be aware of potential effects it could have on you pushed her to say. "Mother," she called out, getting her mother's attention.

Her mother halted, turning around with just a subtle hint of surprise on her face. "Yes, Darling?"

"Goody told me to use the raiju," she said, she didn't want to admit it, but the choice of words and what she saw, especially after what her mother said about Goody, it just felt wrong.

Her mother sighed, a heavy, foreboding sigh Wednesday rarely heard. "Once in every generation an Addams forms a deep bond with a raiju," her mother revealed, just for a moment looking in your direction. "It can be friendship or love, many believe Goody was in love with her raiju."

Wednesday's eyes widened, and the way her heart began beating just a bit faster made her uncomfortable. "I've never heard of a raiju in our family," she argued, trying to, at the very least, remove love from the equation.

"Because there wasn't any. Despite all the times an Addams fell in love with a raiju. Those bonds always end in a tragedy, but especially when there was love involved, the raiju always died for their Addams. They are powerful, and that power makes them reckless," this time Wednesday was the one who looked at you, and as if you felt her eyes on you, you looked up and grinned at her. It made her feel nauseous for a moment.

"Her father is still alive," she tried to argue once again and for once didn't mind her mother placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Friendships sometimes ended up with raiju no longer capable of living a normal life. Maybe that's why Y/N carries her mother's last name, or maybe they broke the cycle," her mother paused for a moment. "Or perhaps you and Y/N will."

Wednesday clenched her fists. "I don't feel that way about Y/N," she claimed, even if her actions spoke otherwise. "Especially if it's tied to some kind of fate or a curse," she didn't want to feel like she wasn't in control, especially over her own emotions.

"Darling, even if it was fate, would that make those feelings any less genuine? Regardless of the nature of those feelings?" Wednesday remained silent, not quite able to put into words how she felt.

She just looked at you again. Death was never something she feared, she was even excited about it. The idea of you dying for her, however, wasn't thrilling to her. It made her feel dread and not a good kind of dread. She made a mistake, staying close to you wouldn’t prevent that vision from coming true, staying away from you would prevent it. So, Wednesday made a decision, you would no longer be involved with her investigation. When she looked away from you she pretended not to see the smile on her mother's face.

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

[starstruckwillows]

dad!headcanons — harry potter ♡

requested by @inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 <3

harry potter x fem!reader, dad!harry, headcanons, fluff, headcanons for biological and adopted children

harry potter as a dad

biological children

•harry wasn’t sure if he wanted kids. he hadn’t had the best examples of parenting, he was never around young children or babies

•but when you came to him, pregnant, it felt like (almost) all of his worries fizzled. they weren’t as important as you, and the child you’d created together

•he visited his parents’ graves when he found out. to say hi, to ask for advice, to maybe just tell them they were going to be grandparents

•goes to see andromeda tonks too, where she’s raising teddy lupin. realises how much this child is something he wants

•when the time comes, he’s an amazing father

•splits responsibilities with you, never lets you end up doing everything

•has such a bond with his kid, and it’s not long before he’s tentatively bringing up the subject of more

•toys everywhere, he’s not a must-be-tidy-at-all-times dad. we’re talking magical train sets, muggle rubber ducks, doll houses, push cars, everything he passes in a shop somewhere

•naturally such a girl dad, but he is so happy with a little boy too. anything he can love

•makes such a big deal out of birthdays, really goes overboard

•raised around so many cousins and friends, massive family times, so many game nights gone wrong

•sincerely apologizing for the attention being a potter will bring his family, but they don’t really mind. at least he’s famous for a good thing

•as they get older, and they’re off to hogwarts, of course he’s missing them. he doesn’t want to stifle them, but the letters are twice a week, at least

•and your kids were raised well, with love, so they have no problem writing back to them all, and they know their home is always a safe place

•harry sleeps well at night knowing he created the home he wanted

•will cry at their weddings, if they happen

adopted children

•three scenarios — you’ve had a biological child, you want more, and for whatever reason that is, you two decide to adopt (harry’s fully supportive of this)

•or, for whatever personal reasons, you can’t or don’t want a biological child (harry’s fully supportive of this)

•or, not long after the war, the wizarding world is still overrun with orphans. there are leaflets everywhere begging couples to adopt. you wanted to expand your family as it was, and harry’s worries were overcome both by his previously mentioned visits, and his desire to not let voldemort ruin the lives of any more children

•whatever it is, he loves them like his own. because they are his own.

•all the prior headcanons, because nothing changes for either of you. your family may not be nuclear, but why should it have to be?

•if anyone pokes fun at their adoption, you best believe harry is up there like a flash to get someone seriously scolded, and you aren’t far behind him

•when the time comes to tell your kids, harry is perfect with it. he knows what to say. you don’t leave it too long either, harry knows what it is to feel lied to about your family

•if any relationships struggle around that time, the strain is physically clear on harry. but he waits for them to be ready, knowing how personal it is

in conclusion

•in any situation, harry loves his children

•he’s a good dad. nobody is perfect, he’ll maks mistakes, but not with the gravity of the one’s he feared

🏷️ — @faeriieblush @poppet05 @it-be-me-ella @juneberrie @ell0ra-br3kk3r @meredarling

[rabbitsrants]

Could you tell me what's your opinion about kogoro,like you always appear like you hate kogoro that's why I wanted to know (whenever you mention him you tell that unbothered fuckin father) wanna know your opinion please answer my ask

fun question!

I LOVE KOGORO

with that being said, i have a very nuanced opinion on him

do i think he's a good detective, husband or father? NO, absolutely not. i don't even think he's a good guardian in regards to conan lol

kogoro can be very self-absorbed, impatient and superficial. his alcoholism and gambling addiction strain every aspect of his life, but kogoro doesn't seem to care enough to change

a few examples:

chapter 1

chapter 370

LIKE??? SHE HAS TO STUDY FOR HER MOCK EXAMS AND KOGORO CAN'T BE BOTHERED TO GIVE A FUCK LOL

initially, i blamed his attitude on his lack of success as a detective. but he shows signs of being irresponsible in his youth as well, despite working for the police:

chapter 572

even after shinichi saves kogoro's career and introduces him to a lot of fame, kogoro shows no willingness to change. he's chronically self-indulgent:

chapter 853

on top of that, the rare times that ran asks him to do something for her, he acts like it's a complete burden:

chapter 528

ran asks him to watch eri's cat while she's in school and kogoro tries to pass the responsibility on to conan

speaking of conan, kogoro repeatedly gets violent with him when he's investigating alongside him

chapter 12

the reason why it appears like i hate him is because my posts are mainly about shinran and interestingly enough, gosho decided to write kogoro as shinichi's polar opposite in a lot of ways. which he even admits in his own writing:

chapter 163

it's evidently a writing choice that gosho decided to go for on purpose. and i think that's fucking brilliant. think about it: ran growing up with an irresponsible, unreliable dad who often prioritizes drinking and gambling over his own daughter? and that same girl falling in love with a guy who's incredibly dependable, attentive, selfless and everything her father is not? IT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE

so whenever i analyze certain shinran moments, it becomes glaringly obvious to me that shinichi often acts like an anti-kogoro, so to speak.

examples i already mentioned in my acts of service post: kogoro refusing to help ran - shinichi stepping up as a result in chapter 457 and 716.

additional examples:

chapter 192

kogoro drops off ran at this weird, isolated mansion for a meeting that sonoko arranged with a bunch of strangers online and he feels off about the whole thing and i'm like YES LOVE THAT, SHOWING GREAT PARENTAL INSTINCTS

he even warns one of the guys and i'm like YEAH YOU'RE BEING A GOOD DAD, LETS GO KOGORO

naturally, shinichi feels weird about the situation as well, so he insists on staying with his girl, even though it's already been discussed that he's too sick:

so, despite the fact that a) kogoro feels like something is odd about the meeting, b) he warns the guy to leave ran tf alone... HE STILL LEAVES HER AT THE MANSION UNPROTECTED

and i'm like... WHY????? and gosho immediately answers my question:

LIKE????????????????????? talk about bad parenting lol

anyway, turns out something about the meeting was indeed off and ran is potentially in danger. both shin and kogoro lose their shit:

but there's a key difference between kogoro and shinichi and i feel like gosho wrote this difference on purpose - nothing, and i mean absolutely NOTHING will ever stop shinichi from trying to keep ran safe:

ONE MORE EXAMPLE

chapter 347-349

the case barely even begins and shinichi immediately observes that ran isn't feeling well:

he even tries to convince her to ditch dinner and go back home:

when shit starts hitting the fan and ran is getting incredibly dizzy, kogoro doesn't even notice:

again, maybe i'm reading too much into it, but i think the fact that gosho depicts kogoro's ignorance in this situation is 100% by design and as a result shinichi gets to be the anti-kogoro again:

throughout the whole case shinichi worries about ran and tries to take care of her. which is very impressive considering that ran constantly tries to downplay her symptoms:

examples like this occur way too often for me to write them off as a coincidence. we're clearly dealing with a pattern. how could i not point that out in my analysis? especially when shinichi's unwavering loyalty towards ran is something that she gushes about constantly?

with all that being said, just because i regurarly point out kogoro's flaws as a dad, doesn't mean i hate him. it's just that i aim to reach a full, comprehensive conclusion with every analysis i write and that entails important details like the glaring differences between shinichi and kogoro regarding their treatment of ran.

i still adore kogoro. cause like i said, there's nuance. i feel like there's a lot of hidden depth behind kogoro's character that i wish gosho explored more:

he's smarter than people think

chapter 11

HE'S THE FIRST PERSON TO QUESTION CONAN'S REAL IDENTITY, EVEN BEFORE RAN:

chapter 165

to everyone's suprise, kogoro deducts that eri lost her wedding ring and he goes out of his way to find it for her:

there are more examples of him showing decent detective skills during certain cases but this post is already long enough lol so i'm not getting into that

he can be very idealistic

chapter 86

him holding an old and dear friend accountable for murdering someone:

chapter 376

him doing the same again with a childhood friend:

HE HAS HIS MOMENTS, OKAY?!

chapter 266

I LOVE IT when kogoro shows his vulnerable side, i find it so heartwarming:

chapter 986

OR HIS BADASS SIDE (this is him protecting eri from a guy who's about to sexually assault her)

WHAT A KING

and even though i shit on his parenting a lot he can be very endearing at times! examples:

chapter 207

his reaction to ran dreaming about the one time that shinichi asked her to give him her bra (it was for a case lol)

chapter 254

MY FAVORITE KOGORO MOMENT:

it's a small but incredibly touching gesture and i love him so much for moments like this

chapter 255

HE CAN BE SO SUPPORTIVE AND SWEET

chapter 765

even though i criticized him for his treatment of conan earlier, shinichi and kogoro have their moments as well. the ramen case is one of my favorite moments between them, it's just so wholesome!

this case is giving dad and son-in-law eneregy!

to sum up my very long response: kogoro is an overall shitty person but he can be very smart, idealistic and sweet and i wish gosho explored those aspects of his character more, cause i feel like he gets sidelined a lot. he often uses kogoro for comedic relief which is fair to a certain extent cause kogoro is HILARIOUS and makes me laugh all the time but gosho keeps giving the bigger and more meaningful plotlines to characters that I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT (looking at you amuro) and i think that's a fucking shame cause kogoro has a lot of potential

hope that answers your question! :)

visit the shinran library for more

[imfoive]

The Youngest Son - Chapter 5

Minho x Reader (fem.) Genre: non-idol au!, Suspense, Angst, Romance, Mature Warnings: tw-descriptions of overdose, mentions of drugs, cursing, death, physical assault, somewhat proofread WC: 4.6k A/N: A longer part! Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The youngest son of the Lee family was stubborn, he was arrogant, he was conniving. Hiding it all behind the mask of a calm and collected man, the youngest son was a master at mind games. Playing a dangerous game where trust is a luxury and betrayal lurks around every corner. He had sworn once, to not let family ties or any feelings hold him back. Yet, against all odds, she had him completely wrapped around her fingers, and he had no desire to break free.

Missed a chapter? - Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

CHAPTER 5 ────────────────────

Lee Jihoon, the fourth son of the Lee family, had always done his best to dodge his responsibilities. But as time went on, the weight of those responsibilities caught up with him, leaving him cornered and unable to live as he pleased. 

At thirty years old, he found himself bowing to his younger brother, Minho. 

Jihoon had once been a bully, taunting Minho, pushing him around, and following the example set by his older siblings. Yet, despite the years that had passed, he still struggled to understand why they had treated Minho so poorly. Minho might have been a consequence of their father’s mistakes, but Jihoon wondered why he, along with his older siblings, had been so unkind. But having spent years away from his family, Jihoon’s perspectives had diverged. He’d avoided their narrow-minded views and had come to see Minho in a different light. Now, he genuinely believed that Minho deserved the respect he had earned.

But despite it all, even though Jihoon had been working under Minho for a year, they weren’t particularly close. The constant comparisons between them only served to emphasize Jihoon’s shortcomings in the eyes of others. Whispers about the brothers echoed through the office.

   “He’s older, but his younger brother is an executive?”

   “V.P. Lee is always cleaning up after his brothers.”

Despite the gossip, Jihoon had grown accustomed to it. The scrutiny was nothing new. But, there was one thing the two brothers had in common.

Lee Jihoon hated L Corp.

Then there was the eldest of the three brothers, Joohyeon. 

Once favored by their father, Joohyeon had fallen from grace after a series of failures. His latest misstep was so severe that it prompted a swift and harsh decision, his position as Vice President was bestowed to Lee Minho and he was suddenly sent off to Japan.

Joohyeon had always been the pride of his parents, overshadowed only by his older cousin Jungshin, who had shown exceptional promise from a young age. Being the second child in the Lee household meant Joohyeon was constantly compared to his cousin. But Jihoon’s carefree nature and disinterest in academics inadvertently made Joohyeon stand out in a positive light. He was always thankful for the kid’s naivety. Jihoon would cause trouble, and Joohyeon would try to diminish the anger in his parents. Like a good son. 

And he was a good son for a while.

When Lee Minho was brought into the household, Joohyeon was old enough to understand the implications of being illegitimate. He absorbed his mother’s prejudices and mirrored her behavior, smiling at Minho in public while harboring resentment behind closed doors.

Lee Joohyeon had long prided himself on being the dutiful son, always striving to please his parents even though he consistently came second to Lee Jungshin. 

However, Joohyeon failed to recognize Minho and his capabilities. 

Over time, Minho’s ascent was swift but discreet, the older brother failed to notice that the youngest of the brothers came for his place. And quickly took over.

When Chairman Lee first compared Minho to Joohyeon, he was bewildered but brushed it off. Then came a second time, and a third and then persisted. 

Lee Minho was smarter than him, Lee Minho was better than him.

Lee Minho was a scapegoat for his dimwit older brother. 

He was the dimwit older brother.

Then came the incident last year that made him fall. Fall hard.

Those damn messages.

Initially, they were merely taunting and annoying, which Joohyeon brushed off without much concern. However, the messages soon escalated in intensity and became very specific. They began to delve into Joohyeon’s past misdeeds, his personal failures, his inadequacies. Whoever was sending these messages seemed to have intimate knowledge of his life, causing Joohyeon to become increasingly cautious and jittery.

The thirty-two year old found himself under constant stress, plagued by nightmares and a sense of unease. He was always on edge, as the messages continued to haunt him, revealing secrets he had hoped to keep buried.

Joohyeon’s cousins would mock him, joking that he couldn’t handle the workload and accusing him of trying too hard. Their taunts cut deep, echoing the criticisms he received from the mysterious sender of the threatening texts. He would scrutinize their smug expressions, wondering if one of them could be the messenger behind the unsettling messages. And when Joohyeon attempted to trace the origins of the threatening messages, he encountered a frustrating pattern. The messages always originated from different locations, as if the sender anticipated his every move.

So he turned to his youngest brother.

Lee Minho was the one who always managed to get these kinds of tasks done. They only thought about the youngest son when they needed something. 

Of course, Minho happily obliged.

When the youngest began his investigation, the frequency of the threatening messages noticeably dwindled over the course of a few weeks. It seemed as though the sender had grown cautious. Of course, since Minho was on his hunt. Joohyeon let his guard down. 

A dimwit indeed.

During one of Grandfather Lee’s elaborate family dinners, which he insisted on hosting every time he returned from a trip, Minho seized an opportunity to pull Joohyeon aside.

   “The messages are coming from L Corp. Headquarters.” Minho disclosed quietly.

Joohyeon blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the revelation. Before he could inquire further, dinner resumed, drawing their attention back to the bustling dining room.

Everyone seemed to be there, everyone except Jungshin.

But only a few minutes later, the eldest grandson walked through the dining room entrance, smiling.

   “Apologies Grandfather, I had to send an important message.”

   “At least you’re here.” The old man nodded approvingly, his gaze shifting to Jihoon, who was reluctantly present with his eyes fixed on his cellphone.

Jihoon’s mother nudges her younger son, who rolls his eyes and sets his phone down.

Everyone engages in their own little conversation.

Joohyeon’s phone dinged.

As his eyes scanned the bright screen, his world seemed to freeze. A chill ran down his spine as he read the message

Why did you do it?

And this time, the sender wasn’t anonymous. It wasn’t an unknown number that went dead when he tried to call back. No, this time there was a name attached to the sender. Joohyeon’s stomach churned, a feeling of nausea rising within him.

The boisterous laughter from Jungshin snapped him back to reality. Joohyeon blinked, feeling dazed as he glanced around at each family member seated in the room before his gaze froze back onto his screen.

   “Have you heard about Y/N Park and rumors of her American boyfriend?” Jungshin stated loudly, his gaze was fixed pointedly on Minho, clearly aiming to elicit a reaction.

Minho remained composed, recognizing Jungshin’s attempt to provoke him. With a calm demeanor, he shifted the conversation away easily, like he had always done.

   “I see my brother is more interested in gossip than business. Have you begun preparing for the conference this weekend?” Minho replied evenly, a polite smile spreading across his face as he lifted his gaze from his food.

The smirk on Jungshin’s face quickly vanished, replaced by a hint of anger as he leaned forward, ready to retort. However, his mother intervened, gripping his hand firmly to silence him.

   “There’s no reason for us to talk about the Parks or Y/N, is there? She’s no longer engaged into this family, nor is she on good terms with Minho. Isn’t that right, Minho?” Jungshin’s mom interjected firmly.

Grandfather Lee cleared his throat, prompting his older daughter-in-law to sit back and compose herself.

   “The business deal we had with the Parks was only hindered briefly. Any sane businessman won’t just shelve a forty billion dollar project.” Mooyoung stated matter-of-factly, continuing to eat his food.

Jungshin laughs, leaning in “Since the contents of the project are all out in the open now. My fam—Our family, should find another way to make personal ties with the Parks again.”

He quickly corrects his sentence for insinuating that there were two families within the Lee family. Although it was a true statement. There were two families. The older son and the younger sons of Chairman Lee. It was supposed to be kept unsaid.

Grandfather Lee continued eating, showing disinterest in the business discussions his grandsons were initiating.

   “And what exactly are you thinking?” Minho’s mother asked, one brow raising curiously.

   “Like it was planned from the beginning. But this time, we’ll choose someone who can correctly do his part.” 

Jookshin finally perks into their conversation.

   “Who here is a good option? Jihoon who would rather jump off a cliff, Minho who ruined his relations with Y/N, or Joohyeon, who looks like he’s not even in this world?” She directed her glance towards Joohyeon, seated at the end of the table, still engrossed in his phone.

   “Me.” Jungshin’s laughter filled the room.

For the first time that night, Minho’s usually composed demeanor darkened with a hint of displeasure.

   “Brother, don’t you think you’re a little too old?” Jihoon finally chimed in, showing interest in their ongoing conversation.

   “Why? I’m not divorced, I’m the eldest son, and I actually have a good reputation.” Jungshin retorted confidently

   “Does Y/N mind an eleven year age difference?” Someone asks, and all eyes are on Minho.

The youngest in the room glances at every single face, then looks at Joohyeon, who had long disassociated, and his grandfather who continued eating as if he was all by himself.

Minho clears his throat, placing his fork and knife down.

   “Miss Park doesn’t have a preference when it comes to age. As long as you give her the attention she craves. But…she particularly fancies handsome men.” He glances.

There is silence in the room after Minho stops speaking. Jihoon snorts, stifling back a laugh.

   “I guess even our eldest brother doesn’t make the cut then huh?” He cackles, his father glares at him and he quickly covers his mouth, chuckling silently.

It was true, Jungshin had lots of attributes, but when it came to looks, he fell behind all his brothers. 

   “Plastic surgery can’t be passed through genetics son.” Jihoon’s mother comments, an indirect jab at her sister-in-law, a former beauty pageant contestant. 

   “Father, what do you think?” Mooyoung asks his father.

Chairman Lee gets the final attention from his family.

“Mooyoung, Doyoung. I think I called you all here for family dinner. Not the discussion of business marriage.” He simply states, not looking up from his almost complete dinner. 

Both his sons straighten in their seats, sharing uneasy glances.

   “I’m going to go rest.” He states, placing down his utensils.

The sound of the chair being pushed against the floor, brings Joohyeon back to a dinner he completely zoned out of. Seeing his grandfather exit, he quickly stands as well.

“Sorry, I have something important to tend to.” He glances at Minho, signaling him to follow.

And like that three people are gone from the dinner table.

   “Why does he look so spooked?” Jookshin comments, getting back to her food.

Jungshin’s phone buzzes and he excuses himself as well.

Entering the living room, Minho found his brother staring wide-eyed at his phone, on the brink of a panic attack. The older brother’s shock was evident, his hands trembling as he finally handed over the device to Minho. The screen was filled with threatening texts and screenshots.

   “Brother, just exactly what—”

Before Minho could finish, the sound of Jungshin’s snickers echoed from the hallway. The eldest brother, stepped into the room, his eyes still fixed on his phone. Seeing Jungshin’s amused expression, laughing with his phone in his hand, Joohyeon makes his own connections and completely loses it.

   “It’s you isn’t it?” Joohyeon growled, his voice a mix of anger and disbelief. Without waiting for a response, he lunged at his older cousin, tackling him to the ground.

The loud bangs from the living room echoed into the dining hall, drawing everyone’s attention. For a moment, they exchanged puzzled looks before rushing to the scene. In the living room, Minho and the servants struggled to keep the older Lee brothers from attacking each other.

   “What the hell is going on?!” Lee Mooyoung shouted, his voice filled with frustration. 

The fighting brothers froze, their eyes shifting to Jungshin’s father and the rest of the family gathered at the entrance.

   “Father, this idiot has gone crazy. He attacked me like a rabid dog.” Joohyeon spat, bloodied and enraged, glared back at Joohyeon as he struggled to his feet, wiping the blood from his nose.

The rabid dog in question fell silent, staring at the dark carpet he was on, slowly he sat up and pushed back his hair. His face was decorated nicely with signs of his fight.

Minho also stood back, hands behind him as well.

Their father studied them both, his anger palpable.

   “You two, follow me to my study. Now!” He commanded, his voice brooking no argument.

Jungshin, still fuming, interjected. “What about what he did to me, Uncle?”

   “I’ll deal with it.” Doyoung muttered, cutting off any further protest from the eldest.

Before Jungshin could push the matter, his own father silenced him with a stern look.

Upon entering their father’s study, the sharp crack of a slap echoed through the room, striking the already frantic and wounded Joohyeon. Minho froze by the closed study door, standing rigidly as he had been back in the living room.

   “Have you gone mad?!” Their father bellowed, his voice filled with fury.

He glared at Joohyeon, who was holding his cheek with both hands, his face a mask of pain and humiliation. Doyoung’s anger shifted as he approached Minho, grabbing his jaw to inspect a red gash on his face, evidence of his involvement in the altercation.

   “And you’ve managed to get your younger brother involved in it as well.” Doyoung continued, his eyes scrutinizing Minho’s injury.

Joohyeon’s face hardened with resentment. Despite his own injuries being more severe, their father’s concern was clearly focused on Minho’s minor scratch. No matter how much Joohyeon needed Minho’s assistance, he could never bring himself to like him.

   “Why did he do that? Is he drunk?” Their father demanded, his tone sharp and accusatory. 

The question wasn’t directed at the hysterical Joohyeon, but rather at Minho. The youngest son glanced between the men, hesitant to speak, waiting for his brother to give him a sign.

   “Don’t look at him!” Doyoung snapped.

Minho looks down, nodding.

   “Brother has been receiving some malicious messages lately.” Minho began. “He wanted me to find out who was behind them.” 

He glanced at Joohyeon, who was still looking at the floor, his hand pressed to his cheek. 

   “I haven’t identified the culprit yet, but the messages seem to originate from our company. Joohyeon might have suspected Brother Jungshin was behind it, which is why—”

   “You fool!” Their father cut him off, his voice dripping with frustration, head snapped to glare at Joohyeon. 

   “How can you just point out a culprit without concrete evidence? Don’t you have even that much common sense?” The father’s anger was undiminished. 

   “You could have waited for Minho to find the evidence before taking such reckless action, especially in front of the family. You’re lucky your grandfather wasn’t here.”

Lee Doyoung pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think through how to address his children’s missteps. But still, his gaze softened as he considered Joohyeon’s distressed state.

   “What were the contents of the messages?” He asked, directing his question at Joohyeon, who remained silent. Seeing which, only fueled Doyoung’s anger further. 

   “You, tell me what those damn messages were about!” He demanded, turning to Minho, whose confused expression indicated he had little information.

   “I… don’t know the exact contents but they are threatening and taunting. As if they knew a dark secret.” Minho glanced at Joohyeon, who was now clenching his fists tightly, his body trembling with a mix of frustration and fear.

Doyoung’s gaze softened with concern as he looked at his guilty son. Sensing something was amiss.

   “Minho, you can go now. Take care of your face. You need to be presentable for the conference this weekend.” He instructed, his eyes never leaving Joohyeon, who looked on the verge of breaking down.

As Minho exited, the study door clicked shut behind him. Silence lingered for a brief moment before Doyoung’s voice cut through the quiet.

   “Show me the messages.”

Joohyeon’s hands shook as he retrieved his cell phone from his jacket pocket. Doyoung took it, his eyes widening in shock as he scrolled through the threatening messages and screenshots. His expression shifted to one of profound concern and worry.

   “J-Joohyeon, just what have you done?”

Joohyeon’s face contorted as he cried, suddenly grasping his father’s wrists. He broke down, his composure shattering as his face scrunched up in a mix of desperation and fear. The phone slipped from Doyoung’s hand and fell to the floor with a loud thud, its screen darkening as it lay there, forgotten.

   “Father. I…I killed Jae.” He cried.

Minho walked out of the Main Residence, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, he glanced at his watch, noting the time as he descended the stairs toward his car, parked nearby. A faint smirk played on his lips, a sense of satisfaction evident in his demeanor.

   “The next message should’ve been sent by now.” He muttered to himself, his smirk widening.

Just then, Joohyeon’s phone, forgotten on the ground of his father’s study, dinged with the arrival of a new message.

It was from “Jae”.

Brother, why did you kill me?

   “You bastard, just what did you do!?” Doyoung was upset, the backhanded slap had Joohyeon tumbling backwards onto his father’s desk, his already beat-up face bruising even more.

   “I didn’t mean to father!” He gets on his knees, grabbing his father’s legs.

   “Please father save me. I made a mistake. I just wanted to find out about the secret deal like you wanted. I was doing as you tasked me to. I didn’t mean to kill him.” He cries hysterically.

His father grabs him by the collar, pulling his back up.

   “Minho was able to find out about that damn deal. And he didn’t have to kill anyone.” He mutters, pushing his son back. 

The old man runs his hand through his hair, trying to figure out what could be done. He was pissed and extremely upset but he didn’t want his son to be punished.  

   “I’ll have Minho deal with the messenger. You have to lie low for a while, go abroad. I’ll give the V.P. position to Minho.” His father states, mind still wracking.

Hearing about his position being taken away from him, the older son’s head shoots up.

   “No father, you can’t. Not to Minho.”

His father glares at him, pushing him back onto the desk.

   “You have no say anymore. Keep quiet and listen to me if you don’t want to end up paying for your crimes.

Minho replayed the video again. And again it showed Joohyeon and Jae, the night the younger man died. It took him a year, but the youngest Lee was able to retrieve the footage from the compromised Yacht CCTV.

It’s the same video evidence of an already high Jae lounging over his lines of cocaine. Joohyeon shoots him up with more drugs, once. Twice. Three times.

The footage clearly shows the shock that Jae’s body goes through, figure spazzing, Joohyeon freaking out.

Foaming at the mouth, Jae falls still. 

And the older cousin is frozen. He gets close, nudging him, shaking him. The older man checks for a pulse, immediately falling back in shock after realizing that his younger cousin was dead. He moves his body back and glances around, then looks up, spotting the CCTV in the corner. He approaches it. And the screen goes jittery.

Minho rewinds. Screenshotting again.

The incident had stripped the older brother of his title.

Joohyeon was sent abroad. And coincidentally Minho had “dealt” with the messenger, getting rid of the evidence. The youngest son was promoted, and Lee Jihoon has suddenly become a member of his team. 

What a combination those two made.

The stoic younger brother who smiled politely when appropriate and the messy older brother who goofed around whenever he could.

Although, everyone still wondered exactly what made Jihoon come back to assist in L Corp. when he hated it so much.

Summers faded into winters, and time marched on relentlessly for Lee Minho. Despite the passage of seasons, he remained steadfast in his pursuit of success.

Promotions came, and he took on ambitious projects, solidifying his reputation as the “youngest prodigy” at the company. His cousins were jealous, uncle and aunt hating him a little more every passing day. His mother still despised him, his brothers barely spoke to him. His grandfather continued to dote on him. But Minho always returned to an empty and dark apartment. 

He lacked friends and acquaintances, choosing instead to immerse himself fully in his work. 

If Lee Minho claimed he didn’t miss Y/N’s presence by his side, he would be lying. Sometimes, as he entered the familiar apartment complex, he harbored a fleeting hope that around the next corner, he would find her leaning against his door, just as she always used to, patiently waiting for him.

But she wasn’t.

She was in New York. And had been for the past two years. 

And despite Lee Minho’s desire to stay under the radar and avoid unnecessary attention, his continuous excellence in his career made it impossible to escape the spotlight. As he climbed higher in his professional life, the inevitable admiration and attention from others became overwhelming. And suddenly he found himself at an age where the topic of marriage seemed to buzz around him in whispers.

Young ladies sought his attention eagerly, drawn by his success and status. They would throw themselves at him, hoping to capture his interest and secure a future with a man of his caliber. However, Minho’s lack of reciprocation and genuine disinterest proved to be a significant barrier. It was a repeating cycle, women intrigued by his achievements would initially pursue him ardently, only to grow tired of his reserved demeanor and lack of enthusiasm.

That’s how that morning ended.

The granddaughter of one of Chairman Lee’s fishing buddies had left their breakfast abruptly, clearly disheartened. She hadn’t even waited for their drinks to cool. Lee Minho stared down at his steaming coffee, thoughts swirling in his mind.

In moments like these, he couldn’t help but reflect on his younger self from Australia.

That Minho possessed a drive for revenge and destruction. A boldness and sincerity that seemed to have faded over the years.

That Minho would’ve listened to his grandfather’s guidance. He would have pursued this girl earnestly, made her fall for him and perhaps even propose marriage. He would’ve gotten a closer step to his goals. 

But the Minho of today was different. 

He was accustomed to wearing masks, and likely would have kept that mask on even if he married this girl, and suddenly the thought of it made him frown.

The one person Lee Minho didn’t need to put on a facade for was across the world.

He laughed at himself, reaching for his drink.

The next time Minho heard about Y/N was when he had gone to New York for an overseas meeting, a year and some months after his promotion. Jihoon was with him and they were staying at one of The Rose Hotels, at the lobby Jihoon had looked around and asked Minho.

   “Did you know Y/N is staying in the penthouse of this location?” 

Minho signs at the reception for check-in, looking at Jihoon at the mention of her name.

   “She’s always promoting this location through her socials.” He leans back onto the top of the reception desk, waiting for his room key.

   “Do you want to grab dinner with her? I can call her.” The older brother brings out his phone, and Minho thanks the receptionist behind the counter, taking their key-cards.

   “I don’t want to. Have fun.” He responded blankly, sticking Jihoon’s room card into the chest pocket of his jacket, before walking away.

Jihoon sighed, shaking his head at his boring brother.

   “The rumors were true then. They definitely aren’t friends anymore huh?” The older brother speaks to himself. 

And Minho doesn’t hear about her from others again. 

Six more months, and Y/N was officially gone for two and a half years. Though news of her return in a week was going around. It doesn’t take long for the whispers to reach the workaholic executive’s ears. Though he doesn’t show any reaction to the news, any signs of interest in her or her return, his heart beating rapidly says otherwise. 

Minho couldn’t wait to see her.

Two days before Y/N Park’s return was Minho’s birthday. Despite the obligatory wishes from his team and messages flooding in, the day felt mundane and unremarkable to him. Birthdays had lost their sparkle long ago, becoming instead a reminder of his father's infidelity and the ensuing family discord.

Around his birthday, his mother’s disapproving remarks seemed sharper, his aunt and cousins’ disdain more palpable. It was a time when Minho felt the weight of his family’s judgment more acutely.

It was around his birthday that he wanted to ruin even more than he did the day before.

But Minho had not always spent his birthdays alone. From the age of sixteen to twenty-five, Y/N had been a constant presence by his side. Whether she was dragging him reluctantly to events or surprising him with unexpected visits, she had always managed to bring a touch of brightness to his otherwise somber birthday celebrations. Her absence now only amplified the emptiness he felt on this day.

Ha.

He chuckled wryly to himself as he parked his car in the apartment complex lot.

Minho walked into his apartment, exchanging his shoes for house slippers. His eyes froze on the pair of black heels neatly placed next to his own shoes on the shelf. The distant strains of The Birthday Song played on a piano instrumental, drifted to him from the living room. 

Cautiously, he took a few steps down the corridor, his mind racing.

He froze at the entrance, jacket in hand, his eyes locking onto the figure twirling gracefully in his living room.

There she was, Y/N.

She wore nothing but a men’s dress shirt, an image both familiar and unexpected.

   “~Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday my Minho. Happy Birthday to you!~” Y/N sang, her voice filling the room with a mix of familiarity and surprise.

She paused her twirling and approached Minho, her arms snaking around his neck to pull him closer, a wide smile on her lips as she enjoyed his surprise.

   “What-when did you arrive?” Minho managed to ask, his voice a mix of surprise and delight, his lips curling into a surprised smile as he processed her sudden presence in his living room.

He glanced around the room, taking in the loosely decorated birthday decor. The balloons by the window, fairy lights twinkling, and a birthday cake with a candle waiting to be lit and blown out.

Clearly taken aback, Minho’s surprise prompted Y/N to giggle, eyes sparkling with amusement. A finger rested on his chin before she playfully flicked, eliciting a low chuckle from him. A genuine, cheesy grin that he couldn’t control taking over his stunned expression.

   “Did you miss me, Lee Minho?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

── ask to be tagged! - @minh0scat, @qwonyoung23

[sunshine-zenith]

Okay, so I have been reading your New Wish posts and I have some theories I'm gonna share with you.

I believe that time passes differently in Fairy World, which could help explain Wanda and Cosmo going on vacay for 10,000 years. Plus it would take Peri 1,000 years to finish Fairy School and become a Godparent.

The reason why Peri was assigned to such a hard kid is because of the whole 'family legacy' thing. Not only was he born to two fairy actively working with a kid and grew up in that environment but he is also very powerful. So I think Jorgen (or who ever made the assignment) figured he could handle it.

I think that retirement means something different in Fairy World. I think it's the equivalent to switching jobs. Like (for example), a fairy retires from working for the Tooth Fairy, goes on vacation for a few thousand years, then starts Fairy School to become a Godparent.

It's also possible that it was decided at some point that fairies could have kids again. Likely when older fairies started retiring from their jobs (and not just Godparenting) and there is a worker shortage.

Ooo I like these, especially the second one — I don’t remember who but someone made a Gifted Kid Burnout(tm) joke on one of my posts about Peri, and that combined with your theory explains so much — Peri was born to a family of good (if unconventional) fairy godparents, raised pretty much as an unofficial FGP, and a lot of stuff just came naturally to him. It’s basically the magical foster parent equivalent of being born to a pare of amazing lawyer/doctors/etc, and never having to learn proper study skills due to being naturally gifted socially and in school, only to be smacked in the face with reality when you’re given a caseload way above your skill set right off the bat and you also don’t have the abilities to adapt because you never had to develop them

Retirement not being permanent for fairies also makes sense — they’re basically immortal, let’s be real they’d probably get bored out of their minds if they didn’t have some kind of task to get up to

Also, it would make sense that the ban on fairy children would be lifted eventually, if only for the practical reason on mitigating a worker’s shortage (lowkey makes Fairy World a little dystopian, but it’s always had semi-dystopian vibes anyway lmao). Plus, Peri proved fairy children aren’t that dangerous (and a lot of the dangerous things that can be pinned on him are mostly the result of like. People trying to kidnap him. Or being unsupervised. Can’t really blame him for accidentally setting off a volcano in self defense or crashing a car because his babysitter lost track of him), so there’s no legitimate reason for the ban to remain. Still, given that Peri was basically a societal practice baby for all of Fairy World after so long without children being born, it was probably a while before a new generation of fairies came to be. Peri probably still spent a good chunk of his developmental years alone

[fortunapre]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘𖧞 once a year, your family visits your holiday home for christmas break, which also happens to be the one time you see your childhood enemy, Oscar. (Ongoing)

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𖧞 16+ (suggestive), fluff, first-time-writing-on-here-so-beware, female reader, i think that’s all. Use of Y/N (as little as possible), swearing

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𖧞 oscar piastri x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𖧞 (scene 1) 1.1k 𖧞 planning on a couple posts so a lot upcoming.

𝐀/𝐍𖧞 this IS my first fic and post on here, so if the writing is mediocre that’s why. Hate comments will not be tolerated (obv). Also, I’m planning on this being a multi-post fic so word count will grow. Enjoy!

𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 𖧞 scene i 𖧞 (𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫)

“Hairless Hugh Jackman or Skinny Henry Cavill?”

My head rested against the cold window of the car, my eyes closed. I was tired and bored, but the game of ‘this or that’ being played next to me, kept my mind awake. I wouldn’t admit it but my siblings' answers and conversations could actually be entertaining. Now being a prime example.

I considered the question more deeply than I probably should have. “Hairless Hugh takes away everything good about him, so obviously Henry.” I answered with my eyes still closed and head against the window.

“Ew, no,” My sister replied. “Henry’s body in the Superman movies are, like, all that I live for. I couldn’t care less about Hugh Jackman.” She laughed and scrunched her nose like she was picturing both options. I just smiled, acknowledging her answer before opening my eyes to stare at the passing trees out of the window.

My forehead was cold from the temperature outside but I was too awestruck by the view: white covered trees and mountains stretched for miles. The winter season cloaked the entire outdoors and snow sparked in the little sunlight. I couldn’t wait until we reached the cabin.

My sister and brother, twins, were only a year younger than me, so their experiences with Christmas break are similar to mine.

Every year, my family travels to Canada and stays in our winter cabin over Christmas Break. Safe to say, I have been waiting for Christmas break to start since July. It’s the only time of year I feel at peace without the commotion of work and stress.

And I guess the view’s nice too.

We had been driving for hours in a tightly packed minivan, and past a group of trees, I spotted a small town, meaning we were close to our destination. Next to me, I felt my sister shift and basically lie on top of me to get a look out of the window. I grumbled and tried to push her off since her elbow was digging in my side but she was unrelenting.

“Wow, look at this!” She spoke to my brother who was sitting two seats away from me. He had his own window and looked just as mesmerized as I was. No matter how many times we visit, the scenery would never be anything but gorgeous.

The tires of the minivan crunched as we pulled onto the gravel driveway of the cabin. Immediately, my family began piling out and grabbing everything we packed, which was a lot. I walked through the large door of the cabin with very little visibility because of the mound of blankets and bags I was carrying. I started heading straight towards my bedroom before I knocked into someone without looking and everything fell from my arms. I gasped and started muttering about how they should have moved out of the way, fully expecting the person I bumped into to be one of my siblings but as I looked up I saw who I actually bumped into and immediately shut up.

“Oh, it’s just you.” I deadpanned. I stood up straight and quit trying to pick up my stuff, resting a hand on my hip at the person in front of me.

Oscar Piastri. As in the son of the family that stayed in the cabin with us every summer.

Nicole and Chris Piastri, his parents, were my parents’ best friends since highschool. But, when we moved to America and they stayed in Australia, the only time we ever see the Piastri family is over Christmas Break.

Earlier, when I was talking about how much I adore the cabin, I forgot about this information. I take back what I said. Christmas Break is not a break of peace. Instead, its weeks of torture and stress as i barely survive around Mr. Annoying, himself: Oscar Piastri.

What’s annoying about him isn’t that he’s loud or obnoxious- it’s the very opposite.

Ever since we were little, when our families lived a block away from each other, Oscar barely reacted to anything. Most adults or kids our age loved his calm exterior and how ‘mature he was for his age,’ meanwhile I was constantly regarded as a ‘trouble child.’

I was jealous. Of Course I was jealous. Oscar got praised for years and I was pushed away and given a sucker to stay away.

What was the worst, however, was how Oscar acted around me. To others he was a saint, but around me, he made sure to agonize me any chance he got. He would push me off of the swing and then when adults would ask what happened he would pretend like I fell and he was helping me up.

Asshole.

Anyways, now I only have to see him once a year, but those few weeks in December make me want to rip my hair out and run away with a hairless Hugh Jackman.

When I saw who I bumped into, my excited smile was replaced with what felt like a snarl. Oscar stood in front of me, a stupid sirk on his lips, probably having ran into me on purpose.

“Y/n. Didn’t see you there.” He said, a sly smirk still present. He was wearing an orange hoodie, no doubt merch of his. Because, did I mention, Perfect-Piastri also happens to be a Formula-fucking-One Mclaren Racing driver.

Yeah…

So, another thing he holds above me.

“Yeah sure you didn’t” I mutter while moving to shove everything back into my arms. But as I picked up one thing, another fell and instead of noticing my struggle and helping, Oscar just stood there. However, once my parents barreled through the door, arms just as full as mine was, so in order to look helpful, Oscar bent down to carry the heaviest bag.

“Oh! Oscar,” my mom noticed him. “We had no idea you guys had arrived yet.” She had a warm smile on her lips, genuinely happy to see him. “We were hoping to get here first and start cooking dinner.”

She motioned towards my dad who held the bags of groceries we had bought before heading here. In the bags were cans of yams and frozen veggies, indicating their plans.

“Oh, no worries.” Oscar replies, with a matching smile. “My mom started cooking already. We would definitely be happy to enjoy your cooking tomorrow, though. I really am a sucker for your candied yams.”

I watched the scene unfold and rolled my eyes.

Oscar turned back towards me with an amused look and started walking away towards my room, my bag in hand. I shut my eyes tightly, and looked up, praying that I wouldn't go insane this month before following him up the stairs.

(SCENE ii) click here

pinterest-piece 𖧞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for calling my friend spoiled?

So my friend still lives with her parents. She is 27 years old and still has dinner cooked for her every night, has her parents clean her room, has them do her laundry, etc. They only just asked her this month to pay some money towards house bills like internet etc and she complained for hours about them “stealing her money”. Now being spoiled isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it’s great her parents are willing to still do all that for her. The problem is my friend tells anyone and everyone that her parents are abusive.

To be honest she’s pretty bad at remembering events accurately. For example someone will give her constructive criticism, she’ll be a little upset, then with each retelling and the more time that passes she’ll build it up and up in her head until it becomes “this person SCREAMED INSULTS at me” and she’ll be genuinely distressed over it. She genuinely remembers stuff this way, she’s not lying exactly. She’s been upset with me over stuff I’ve supposedly said or done and when I’ve asked her to find the conversation she’s talking about in chat logs etc she’ll look back and realise it never happened or it was said completely differently and then she’ll be shocked and apologise.

The stuff with her parents is the same kind of deal. We’ll be on call, I’ll hear her dad calmly say “Can you put your clothes away in the bathroom please?”, and by the time she’s back she’ll be upset and ask me “Did you hear my dad scream that at me?”

She tells all our friends that her parents are abusive and constantly screaming at her and forcing her to do stuff.

For context as to why this upsets me a bit, I grew up in a hellishly abusive household. Not going to get into details but it went as far as having knives held to me, having my fingers broken, being homeless for almost a year. So hearing her call her parents abusive all the time when they do so much for her and treat her so well and all our friends offering support and joking they'll fight her parents really frustrates me. I watch her and her dad chase each other down the driveway to give each other hugs and I feel so envious of how comfortable and good their relationship is.

I recently stayed with her for a few months while I recovered from a surgery over Christmas and. it just got worse from there.

On Christmas she got more presents than I've ever seen in my LIFE. Her parents got ME more gifts than I've ever gotten! One gift she threw out the instructions and then got frustrated she couldn't work it, and in front of me she called her mom through, and snapped at her that her gift didn't work and it was useless. Her mom apologised and asked if she should return it, and my friend was just like "Well it's too late now isn't it!" I was just sitting there in shock because it felt so rude and ungrateful

The other night we were with friends and she was telling them about how her dad had made a joke about her being spoiled. She turned to me and said “AM I spoiled?” in a way that clearly expected me to say no and back her up.

I just kind of snapped and had enough and I said “Honestly? You’re one of the most spoiled people I’ve ever met.”

I said it in a kind of light-hearted tone and she played it off like a joke, but she seemed really mad I’d said it in front of our friends considering she’s been telling them how bad they are all this time.

Since then I’ve had a couple of our friends come to me and ask what her family is really like and I’ve said I don’t feel right talking to them about it if my friend doesn’t want me to, but it’s made me wonder if I was an asshole for saying it considering it’s clearly made our friends distrust her word now. And they potentially realised I wasn’t joking with the fact they’ve come to ask me privately about it.

AITA for saying it in the way and situation I did?

What are these acronyms?

[theobsessedcookiefan]

I HAD THIS DRAFTS AAA 😭😭😭😭 (It's happiness).

Okay some clarifications, y/n in this story will be an apprentice witch, she won't be one of the ones who created the heroes, also I will call Shadow Milk Cookie Blueberry Milk Cookie since I think they had that kinda name before, I don't think for example Silent Salt was called that before that corruption right?

:ﾟ･*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

Part 1. The Tower and the Witch.

"What story do you want me to tell you?" Asked the older cookie to a group of little ones gathered around him. "The one about the hero and the witch!" One of the little ones replied. "Yes! I like that one!" Replied another, finally the old man gave up and smiled. "Okay, but no interrupting me this time."

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

The heroes of Earthbread, the closest thing the cookies had to deities besides their creators the witches; we all know the story, five heroes created and blessed by them, gaining powers beyond the comprehension of any common cookie. For example we have the cookie holder of the virtue of knowledge; Blueberry Milk Cookie, he spent day and night in his research, looking for answers to the strangest questions he could think of, which led him to discover the Witches' Banquet.

At first he thought it was just a legend, something parents told their children to obey them; "If you're good maybe the witches will take you with them and invite you to the Banquet." He heard a lot of parents say already, so it wasn't crazy to think that it was indeed a legend, but as the days passed in his research he found several clues that indicated that it did in fact exist! This did nothing but feed the curiosity of our hero, he wanted to know more about his creators and get answers to several questions; Why the cookies existed and why he and his friends were the ones chosen to carry such power were two of them.

Without wasting any more time he waited until the next date in which the legends said that the Banquet took place, when that awaited moment arrived he immediately went to the place where it was supposed to happen, he found something? Yes, a somewhat high tower that seemed abandoned at first sight, the smoke coming out of the chimney was barely noticeable to the eye. With a little effort and using his skills to climb the tower he managed to get to the window of the tower and take a little look inside, wow indeed it was big, bigger than when he was in his bigger form so it was definitely a witch tower and the best of all was that everything was perfectly taken care of, it looked so tidy and so pretty that he felt kinda bad to enter it uninvited, everything was clear until he heard a sound of something moving slightly, when he looked in the direction where that sound came from he saw a.. a witch? Yes, that was it, even though she was lying on a table, her clothes could be seen, it was just as the books described her, an apron and a pointed hat, besides being quite big.

Carefully he approached, using those shelves full of books to hide himself, he even had to dodge fallen things and jump through the spaces between shelves, adventure was definitely not his thing; he would have liked to stay in his own tower to do his writing, although science and knowledge require sacrifice and hard work! Or well, that's what he thought. As he approached the sleeping (or so he hoped) witch, he noticed a potions book on the table, there came instructions on how to make a love potion, huh- that was weird, witches were supposed to be the creators of their entire species, he never thought that on top of that they also created potions; that made them even stranger to his point of view.

As he got closer and closer he finally got as close as he could, being mere centimeters away from that big figure, it seems that the aroma of blueberries that he gave off did not pass unnoticed though, because little by little she began to wake up, with worry he took a few steps back and hid behind an inkwell.

"Mhh.. What time is it?" He heard that witch say in that tone of someone waking up after a long nap, as he stood up he noticed that she was actually taller than what he had seen from the window and that gave him a little shiver; in the stories they always talked about how witches as well as they could be merciful they were still like goddesses to them, they shouldn't be angered. He considered his options for a few minutes; either he stayed hidden and searched among those millions of books for the answers he was looking for or he made himself present and asked directly, because both options had several ups and downs, for example staying hidden and searching in books was the idea he liked the best since he would stay hidden and safe, but the downside was that he would have to look in millions of books too big even if he increased his size and he would also have to be careful not to be seen, on the other hand if he made himself present there were two possible results: either he was accepted and his doubts were solved or he would be crumbled by the witch.... Umm, difficult decisions indeed.

Finally he decided, he would show himself to the witch and hope for the best outcome. With a sigh, he came out of hiding, eyes closed and waiting for the witch's reaction... Nothing happened-, when he opened one eye he realized that the witch was no longer there; she was now in the other part of the tower, looking for something on a shelf, well that gave him time to think what she would say "Good morning! I'm Blueberry Milk Cookie, the cookie who possesses the virtue of knowledge." Umm no, too formal... "Hi, I came into your house through the window I hope I'm not disturbing you." That would make him sound like a weirdo- "Miss witch I demand answers!" No, just no! It was too much pressure to do something so soon. He seemed to take too long to decide as he heard the witch's voice again. "Can I help you?" She sounded as confused as he was at that strange interaction as it was as if a divine being was talking to you so casually like that. "Oh! I mean... I, umm, can you?" Shit, that was not a good first impression. "I mean.. Yes! You can and I'd appreciate it if you would!"

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

:ﾟ･*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

A/N: I personally imagine he looks like this before corruption:

(IF SOMEONE KNOWS THE ARTIST PLS TELL ME)