#the one that my parents lived through as teenagers and young adults

[mokeonn]

Oh boy if ya think D&D being "mainstream" is neat may I suggest actually looking deeper into the satanic panic because it's a lot lot worse then you'd think modern day salem witch trials that reverberate to today

I know about the satanic panic lmaooo

[paraphwrites]

i think it's interesting that edwin attracts lonely people.

-the cat king has seemingly never had a real substantial relationship. he lives his lives playing tricks and games, not actual connections

-monty literally only ever spoken to one (1) other person, and that's his fucked up mother familiar mommy situationship that he needs, like, so much therapy to unpack

-simon, maybe the only other gay kid in this boarding school, completely isolated from his peers by virtue of his identity and society and shame

-niko, who has been hiding in her room, avoiding other people for months out of grief and something larger (the inherent unavoidable devastation of growing up alone)

-and, of course, charles. charles, who died alone. charles, one of the only non white kids at that boarding school. charles, who's dad didn't love him and who's mom didn't say anything. charles, who flirts with every girl he meets. charles, who would follow him to the end of the earth but won't ever talk about his feelings because he's brills, mate, aces. charles, who spent his entire life alone and now won't spend a minute of his afterlife alone

i dunno. i think it's interesting. edwin, who we know is lonely, attracts other lonely people.

and, not to overstep my bounds as a silly little person on tumblr, but i think it's interesting that the show has attracted a lot of lonely people, too. and i think there's a lot of reasons for that. the target demographic is teenagers & young adults, a notoriously lonely group. the show features a lot of minority characters, which will attract minority audience members, and often people who are a part of a minority feel lonely and different from the people around them. the show is about friendship and found family, and i think that attracts a lot of lonely people. shit, i'm lonely, and i was drawn to this show. yes, for the incredible music and acting and cinematography, but also because the themes are so fundamentally resonant and raw.

and THAT is why dead boy detectives is an important show. because it is a show for the lonely and the grieving and the lost. AND it is a show for the hopeful and the learning and the coping. it is a show for people who have their shit together, and people with no shit together, and people who don't even know their shit is spilt all over the floor. this show MATTERS because it speaks to the fundamental devastation in human existence AND it finds the beauty to celebrate. it says, yes, loss is horrible and life altering, and you will be okay. yes this will be awful but you will carry on. and that is SO important. do you understand how important that is?? because everyone, everyone goes through loss and change and hardships. everyone. it is a show for lonely people! and we're all fucking lonely, aren't we? isn't part of the human condition just being lonely??

dead boy detectives is a show for people wronged by men. it is a show for people coated in grief. for people who are dealing with their sexuality late in life. for people with fucked up parental relationships. for people who date as a distraction. for people who are doing great and just like a silly little ghost show! for people not doing great but trying their best anyway. most of all, it is a show for lonely people.

just. FUCK! this show MATTERS! this show MEANS SOMETHING to SO many people!! including me!!! it matters to ME!!!! and i will continue yapping about it, even if it's just into the void!!!!!!!!!!!!

[discodeerdiary]

There's a good reason why I try not to argue publicly with anyone under 18, and it's not that I think they're inherently stupid, it's not that I think their brains are "underdeveloped", it's not that I think they can "do no wrong", it's that I never know how much freedom they actually have to think freely, or how many of their opinions are actually their own. Of course, under-18s *can be* capable of thinking for themselves and developing their own opinions, but (here in the US at least) law and culture put a lot of roadblocks on their ability to do so.

Of course parents and teachers cannot actually control the inner thoughts of the children they wield power over, but they can restrict the information that they have access to, can punish them for saying the wrong things, can cut them off from healthy diverse social groups, and can convince the child their thoughts are being monitored through religion, psychology, and other appeals to higher authority.

Thus if a random teenager says some headass shit in my mentions I have no way of knowing if these are opinions they arrived at on their own, or if they are dogmas forced on them by the people holding food and shelter over their head. If it's the latter, there's nothing to be gained from a public confrontation: people are generally unwilling to change their opinions in a direction that threatens their social support system, and they are especially unwilling to do so at the behest of an internet stranger who cannot offer alternative forms of support. If a teen is genuinely curious about my opinion (that is *if they consent* to a discussion of disagreements) and if I have the mental bandwidth for a potentially emotionally loaded conversation, yeah I'll have it, but I'm not gonna maintain any illusions about my ability to change their mind until they can find a way to live independently.

This is also why my leniency toward the not-yet-adult tends to also extend to the recently-adult. Coming up with a system of beliefs that you're actually willing to stand behind? Shit takes time, and I'm not necessarily gonna expect it of a 20-year-old who may, for all I know, have been living under conditions of near-absolute control up until their 18th birthday. Sure they may be opening their mind in college, or college may be their parents way of keeping them too occupied with busywork to develop new opinions, as they continue to hold financial support over their head. It's around their mid-twenties that I'm willing to go full gloves-off antagonistic with strangers, knowing that they've had a few years of legal and social adulthood under their belt, and that even if they're still financially dependent on their parents it's a different sort of dependence, one where they're given default legal permission to run away from home.

A lot of people are deeply uncomfortable with this line of thinking because if you look too far into the factors that influence young people's thoughts, you eventually have to start asking yourself which forces of dependency are influencing your own beliefs and opinions. Yeah, as an independent adult you may have the option to quit your job, divorce your spouse, ditch your friends, move to another country, but realistically how many of these can you accomplish at the same time? How many do you even want to? And how are all of these forces *in aggregate* setting the acceptable limits of what you're allowed to think and feel? It can be upsetting to think of yourself this way, it can be easier to think of yourself as a true free thinker and children as mindless automatons, but I urge you to think of mentally coercive environments as a continuum rather than a binary. The point is not to free yourself from all influence, but to gain the ability to see yourself as an influenced mind, and to have compassion for those dealing with all the bullshit you don't have to anymore.

[flamingpudding]

I'm back with a part 4 if you want to do it it's kind of more of a crack write I just need Klarion trying to explain the family tree

But not explaining how he was made at all So Young Justice and the Justice League are now convinced that a the Ghost King was a teenage parent who is now 27 years old and just passed college with a degree in astronomy and machinery

Klarion's other parent is a a crazy fruit loop 64 year old millionaire who went to college with Klarion's Mom parents who had an emotionally unhealthy obsession with his mom's mother and then it passed on to his mom.

And he has an older sister who is technicality a clone of his mom but also has the bastards DNA so fundamentally making Ellie Vlad Master and Mom's first born kid but there's six other siblings that Klarion had that died back a while back but Mom got granddad who's apparently the time lord AKA Cronos which is a whole another long story to go back in time and save those kids get them fixed up and now Klarion technicality has seven older siblings which all do their own things

And then he starts mentioning his uncle who is a 9 ft yeti his technicality auntie who is a medieval ghost princess who can turn into a dragon his auntie Pandora and his his grandfather cronos

My names for the six other clone children are Donald (he/him), Cecelia (they/she), Bartholomew(Them/They), Kyle AKA Bite(He/It), Brutus(He/They), and then there's Danna (She/Her) who actually really like the name Dan and asked Klarion if could have it when Klarion changed his name

Sorry if this is a little bit too much I've just really been thinking about au for this after the last part you made I hope this helps you with your writing or at least makes you laugh but I really love the idea of Danny's AKA somewhat clone children and finding their own personalities and and fighting themselves out of just being failed clone of their mom also I love the idea of Danny going back in time to save the rest of the clone kids cuz now he's a mature adult who wants to save their lives and wants them to grow into their own people.

(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

I probably did way to much research into all the fandoms I am in to see what I could tie into this... And yet this feels shorter than it should but I also currently lack the time to add more. But for now I hope this will be satisfactorily.

Also this family tree idea especially the part of saving the melted clones. LOVE IT!

So even though it took me a while! here is Part 4 you inspired! Thanks so much for the ask!

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

"Dude, you are making us only curious!" Impulse spoke up as he sat down next to Klarion who had his head in his hands. "Like you and your mom can't just drop your family lore like that!"

The witch boy on the other hand looked up with narrowed eyes at the speedster. "What lore?"

"Let's see, the part that apparently a Vlad tried to kill your Grandpa to make friends several time. That your mom is 'ghost' adopted by the lord of time Cronos and Pandora, which makes us family too by the way, and that you have a sister that apparently is even crazier than what we got to know of your family so far." Wonder Girl counted off her fingers next to him grinning as she mentioned the part of probably being a part of his 'crazy' family too. Which hell yea, that sounded like a lot of fun to be explored she would have to talk with Wonder Woman about that as soon as possible.

"Also..." Red Robin added as he flipped through the photo album that apparently no one remembered he had. He was turning it around and pointed at a particular photo with a wild bunch of people in it that varied between more human and well... less humanoid people. One of them definitely was a Yeti and there was also what looked like living armor as well as Teekly (they knew that demon cat at least), a giant green dog and for some reasons there was a green aggressive looking Octopus in the background too. "...how are you related to a Yeti?"

"Hey that man there and those other teens in the picture actually have some resembles with you! Do you have older brothers too?" Superboy additionally asked as he moved around Red Robin to see the photo better pointing at a man that appeared to be in this late twenties, blue eyed, black haired and a little on the buffer side. If he didn't know any better and the fact that he should keep his mouth shut about their actual identities he would have jokingly asked Red Robin if his family would like to add more kids considering Klarions family apparently had a bunch of black haired blue eyed members too, judging by the photo at least.

"What are you talking about. That man is my mom and yes the others are actually my older brothers and that Yeti is uncle Frostbite who also happens to be the best medic in the Infinite Realms" The four teen heroes looked stunned at the picture and then back at the Ghost King that was smiling at them, still seated by the dinner table with their mentors. Who by the way were now perking up at the change of topic and the information they could gain with it, well Wonder Woman was more interested in the apparently extended family she had.

"Oh I remember we took this photo last year, it was such a hassle to get everyone into one place with them all being busy doing their own things." Danny mused for a moment, remembering fondly how he had to literally drag some of the kids home through a portal.

"It was more annoying than anything too since I was declared to be the youngest...." Klarion muttered also remembering that day not as fondly as his mother.

"Wait, wait, wait! That is a picture of your family? I need an explanation buddy!" Impulse cut in without shame, quickly removing the picture from the photo album to get a better look at it before holding it out to Klarion so he could explain all the individuals. "Plus why does your mom look soooo.... human?"

The witch boy on the other hand stared at him for a couple of seconds before looking over towards his mother as if waiting for something. After a moment the teen heroes as well as their mentors saw Danny nod with a little smile. "This dimension doesn't have the GIW so its fine, the Justice League Dark won't be a problem either, right?." Constantine flinched at the smile the Ghost King was giving him, muttering something under his breath as he had hoped his presence had been forgotten.

"Since mom is giving his okay...." Klarion mutter sitting crosslegged on the ground as he snatched the photo album from Red Robin and flipped through it. "Lets start with the easiest stuff to explain."

Danny chuckled noticing that not only the teen heroes but their mentors as well showed an interest. He choose to stay quiet letting the adults listen in on the kids, and if things went bad he would just ask Clockwork if they could revert time back to this moment and he would change his nod of permission to a shake of denial.

"Okay first of, this is my mom and his sister Jasmine, this is Danielle my older sister and that hulk with flaming white hair and blueish skin is me. That was before I got deaged because of destabilising." Klarion explained flipping to a photo of him, Danny, Jazz and Danielle. "Mom was around fifteen, Aunt Jazz about seventeen and Ellie should have been about a year old but she was aged up to twelve. They look human in this one because well they are. Mom was originally human and became what you call in this dimension a Meta through an accident."

"Wait... that would mean your mom... How could he have two kids at that age of fourteen? You look like an adult and your sister was aged up?" Wonder Girl couldn't help but ask as she looked from the photo and back to Danny at the dinner table again.

"That's cause Vlad was a fu-"

"Language Klarion!"

"Vlad was a fruitloop. That photo was taken shortly after Vlad and I sort of redeemed our selfs. Plus, mom didn't really have my sister and me willingly.... we were kind of forced upon him in a way." Klarion explained shrugging. "Old Man Vlad had an obsession with his mom that then turned on mom, which resulted in my oldest sister Danielle first. Actually, a lot of my elder siblings resulted from that, but they didn't survive it the first time, Mom got Old Man Clocks help to save them once he got used to being the Ghost King. I got added to the mix shortly after my sister, but... i wasn't in the best state of mind at first, kind of went through a redemption phase in which mom had to fix the timeline of our original home dimension, too."

Danny chuckled again at the disturbed looks the teens were giving his son as well as the looks their mentors sent him. He probably should correct Klarion's wording... but being one of the gremlins of his family he just smiled on, not commenting. He really understands now why Pops Clockwork liked watching the chaos he used to cause as teen, and still sometimes causes as adult.

"Klarion... how old is this Old Man Vlad?" Red Robin asked grimacing as his eyes under the mask flicked up to the Ghost King and then back to the witch boy both seemingly unbothered by the disturbing information they were sharing.

"In human years... probably around 67? You stop counting age at some point if your a halfa." Klarion shrugged, not noticing the grimaces of the teens around him. "Anyway, Ellie is sort of the first born. I came in after that, with my core being a mix of Mom and Vlad. Not DNA wise though since I came to be because of their ghost cores. That's why I look like that in this photo. Though human DNA wise I am probably now mostly Moms, we never bothered to ask the old man."

Danny muffled another chuckle, coughing as Superman sent him an incredulous look of shook while he felt Batmans burning gaze on him.

"You... mentioned more siblings?" Red Robin asked carefully sharing a look with his team, feeling like there was a whole lot of trauma in Klarions family he wasn't sure they should address or not. So asking after his siblings was probably, hopefully the safest option. They didn't know that while there was trauma in the witch boy's family it was not the kind they were imagining.

"Yea I got a bunch more brothers, Vlad was a evil crazy fuitloop, before he redeemed himself. They all kind of melted in one timeline but mom and Grandpa Clock found a way to save them." Klarion nodded flipping to another photo containing him, as he looked now, and all his siblings.

"So, Ellie you know about already. The one with the sunglasses and died hair is Bartholomew, second oldest. They made themselves a home in other dimension, barely at home cause he has to much fun messing with something called a 'Starstream' by being a 'Constellation' and throwing gold coins at 'Incarnations'. Don't ask me what that means, I barely pay attention when he gushes about his favorit 'Incarnation'. They spent like all their money and pocket money there. Aunt Jazz thinks he might develop a gambling addiction if we don't stop his spendings." The teen heroes eyed the teen that looked like a young adult grinning in the photo as the witch boy pointed at the one next to them. "The one with the vile is my elder brother Bite, most responsible one of this bunch. Mom even allowed him to take care of a couple of dimensions by taking the role of being their God of Death. I think he messed them up more than helped but he is doing a somewhat good job, even if he is sort of obsessed with making some red head his saint or something..."

"One of your sibs is a God?" Impulse gabbed and Klarion just blinked at him with a shrug. "My Grandfather is the ruler of Time, your point is? Wonder Girl is also related to a God of your dimension."

"Never mind him, moving on." A yelp resounded as Superboy pushed Impulse head down leaning in more to see the photo better. "You got one emo looking brother there!"

"Oh that's Yamikumo, he is like a year or two older than me right now, in human years. He barely got any of mom's powers so he choose to try to life a somewhat normal life but weirdly enough he choose a dimension that is ruled by people who have powers and abilities, you know like the Meta Humans of this dimension. Now that I think about it, he is also the only one who actually is studying on how to be a Hero."

"Do you end up fighting with him if he studies to be a hero?" Wonder Girl whisper asked him with a quick glance towards their mentors, to which Klarion shook his head. "As long as we leave the dimensions one of us choose to live in alone we usually don't fight about stuff like that, aside from the usual sibling fights that is. Then again I do have some siblings that like to make bets like who is better at ruling as demon lord, or who can safe a dying timeline quicker."

Danny chuckled again as he watched the kids, Klarion had definitely caused some misunderstandings with his wording. Then again it wasn't like Klarion said anything that wasn't true, but then again his son loved chaos. So there was a suspicion that Klarion intentionally choose the way he worded the explanation about how he and Ellie came to be as well as the rest of siblings.

"So....." Superman slowly started wondering how he should bring up the topic. "...you became a mom at 14?"

"Say Danny is there a way for me to meet this Vlad? You know since we are family." Wonder Woman also asked smiling in a certain way that reminded Danny of Valerie when she was mad but didn't want to show right away how mad she was, to which the Ghost King on reflex could do nothing but gulp for a moment. Not noticing that a green post it note appeared on the table before him.

[zahri-melitor]

In terms of trying to transplant how Dick’s generation grew up to independent adult heroes onto Tim’s generation, one of the significant issues is that the two groups have very different backstories.

The Fab Five and their generation were largely cared for children with present guardians during their teen years. Their ‘growing up’ rebellion moments were about wanting to establish their own identities separate to their parent/guardian. Then once NTT occurred and new young adult characters were added to it, you had a bunch who were escaping overbearing guardians with expectations the young adult didn’t want to fulfil, and leaving trauma behind.

The Core Four and other 90s heroes, in contrast, were mostly latchkey kids. They had loving but absent parents and parental figures. They were largely expected to grow up and show they were independent in their early teens. The arcs of their stories were not about growing up and finding themselves and ‘be your own person’, but about learning to trust others and interdependency and working together.

Like the shape of a Fab Five story is ‘in my preteens or earlier a Disaster Happened and I was taken in by a hero who cared for me and taught me the business as their sidekick. Then around 18-20 I moved out to live in a sharehouse with my friends as I wanted to find who I was outside of the shadow of being a sidekick’.

While…Tim’s generation largely aren’t sidekicks in the same sense. The shape of THEIR stories are of ‘teenager with largely absent adults is expected to grow up and show emotional maturity too early’. It’s actually notable that Tim, Kon and Bart all have long term story arcs that involve gaining a stable household right near the end.

Kon’s entire solo is the story of how he is neglected and exploited by every adult around him. He doesn’t have parents. He’s Peter Pan, the little boy who cannot grow up, who lives without parental expectation. He’s a celebrity kid exploited by Rex Leech and by CADMUS, who’s expected by those around him to act in an adult manner and held to that standard while simultaneously specifically being underage and not having the right to make his own decisions. His final arc in Superboy is about being so abandoned he doesn’t even have CADMUS to depend on anymore so he has to find an apartment and a job (the building superintendent) and is expected to act and function like an adult in that position. Superboy #59 (FIFTY NINE) is when Kon finally gets his own name. Superboy #100 is ABOUT Kon moving in with Jonathan and Martha Kent and finally having a stable home environment where he can be a child. Heck Kon’s already had a story where he’s ‘married’ and responsible for a kid. He’s had solo space adventures.

Bart’s solo is about Bart and Max learning to be a family together, but also: Bart’s childhood didn’t contain parents. Meloni turns up occasionally through his solo and loves him but also has to disappear away back to the 30th century at the end of each appearance. The final arc of Bart’s solo is about him moving in with Jay and Joan Garrick for more stability, because Max has disappeared (and stays disappeared). And then, post his solo, Bart even already has HAD an arc where he had to grow up and assume the Flash mantle (which went horribly wrong and led to his death).

Tim? Tim’s entire solo is about upheaval and change. The first time he’s expected to behave as an independent hero, not a sidekick, is literally Robin #1 when Azbats kicks him out of the Cave. Jack threatens to send him away to boarding school on multiple occasions and DOES for the Brentwood arc. He loses Jack, he loses Dana, he moves out to be a hero caring for his own city at 16, in Bludhaven post War Games. Bruce’s adoption of Tim was all about giving him back that sense of stability and support so that Tim had people backing him up again in his personal life and not only as a hero. And then he does the ‘leave and get a new identity’ thing during Red Robin.

And Cassie? Cassie starts with a loving mother and her story arc over becoming a hero is about periods of operating on her own. She moves away from her mum to go to Elias School. Due to operating as a hero under her own name she eventually has to come up with the alias of Drusilla Priam to give herself a non-public identity to retreat to (and isn’t living with Helena Sandsmark but renting on her own during this period to protect Helena).

This is a set of characters for whom it makes no narrative sense to tell a story of them growing up by ‘moving out and finding their own identity as separate heroes’ because their entire PAST is about being alone and looking for connections and people to rely upon. They haven’t been looking for their mentors to accept them as independent adults, they’ve been looking to their mentors to be present and work with them.

They have already all BEEN through the steps of moving out (while underage) and learning to look after themselves as nobody else was there to support them. Growing up for them is about learning to trust and be respected for the skills they already have and trusted to know what they’re doing, rather than leaving to show they can operate independently.

And that’s a harder narrative to show, because it’s a less common growth story in our culture. But in the Core Four’s case, I’d argue a lot of the traditional signifiers of adulthood (moving out; moving away for education; taking responsibility for a city on their own; travelling for quests) are things they were already expected to do while still significantly underage, and so sending them through that plot again isn’t showing anything new to allow them growth. What they need is the adults around them to treat them as adults for the things they already can and do do.

[tinydeskwriter]

Lando NorrisxWolff!reader

words: 2825

requested: no

A/n: This is going to be a multi-chapters, most of the chapters won't be social midia or something. It is going to 'follow' the 2023 F1 season. Reader is Toto's eldest child by a fictitious ex- first wife. I just watched Break Point, with is another sport Netflix docuseries from the same producing company that makes DST, and since then I have this idea of a prodigy tennis player reader.

next part»

GQ 10 things Y/n Wolff can’t live without

“Hi GQ, I am Y/n Wolff and here are my essentials.” The young woman opens her arms looking at the objects displayed on the table, before looking up and smiling to the camera.

# Sugar

“My trainer may not agree. My coaches may not agree. My performance coach may not agree. My parents definitely don’t agree.” She points out, “But I need sugar.” The young woman brings to the centre of the table a small pile of sweets, a tall cup of caffeinated drink and a can of Red Bull, “I live of sugar and… sugary things…”

“My day starts with this lovely peppermint iced mocha sweetened with vanilla sugar… a ton of vanilla sugar.” Y/n laughs taking a sip of her drink “I am weirdly obsessed with mint and chocolate combinations…” She comments looking at the camera, “I drink perhaps two or three of those per day,” The young woman then places her hand over the top of the Red Bull can, most people who follow her already know that she is an athlete sponsored by Red Bull, “sugar-free Red Bull, which ironically is sweeter than the regular one.” She puts her hand on the pile of chocolates, “Milk-chocolate, I am not going to lie and say that I eat the healthy stuff, I don’t, I have the taste buds of a child,” the tennis player smiles mischievously at the camera, “right now I am really into this Finnish chocolate, Geisha and the blue Fazer, daddy always keep those in his offices for me.” She wrinkles her nose a little, giving the camera a lovely—childish—smile.

“Aero Mint bar, Chocolate Orange, Maltesers, Bounty, Kinder, truffles…I'm honestly starting to wonder how we managed to get through customs.” She laughs looking at her entourage behind the cameras. “This is like… a fraction of what I usually travel with, this is more like what I have in my bag for the day.”

#Photos

Y/n played a little with a golden square object in her hand.

“I travel a lot, I am on the road from January to November playing at tournaments around the world, so I can’t always be surrounded or in touch with the people that I love,” she says in a slightly more serious tone, taking the golden case in her hands and pressing the button to open, showing pile of polaroid photos, “those are mini Polaroids, so I can bring them with me wherever I go, I keep them inside this vintage cigarette case that belonged to my maternal grandmother, she was a absolute rockstar and I miss her very much.”  The camera takes a close-up on the golden case with rope motif and small colourful stones. “As I don’t smoke, I had to find another use for it.”

The first photo she shows is five adults together, smiling around a table, in what appears to be a ski resort.

“I have a very patchwork family, and somehow the adults in my life made it work…which I am very grateful for, not everyone is lucky to have so many amazing parents…so here I have my mum and my two other mothers, Stephanie and Susie, papa and my other father, Phillippe,” the second photo is her with a boy not much younger than her, two teenage girls and a small child in front of a Christmas tree, “my siblings, I have four, I am the eldest whatever way you go, huge flex,” the photo is followed by one of a pyjama party with several girls in matching pyjamas, and another of the tennis player with a blonde in front of the Eiffel Tower, “My gurls! This is my best friend, she is also my PA… so amazing to have someone I trust so much with me all the time…” a golden cocker spaniel with a crystal necklace, silk bows in its ears and a Gucci sweater appears on the screen, “this is Éclair Wolff, my emotional support dog aka my child, she actually goes with me mostly everywhere, but sometimes I leave her with my mum so she won’t be stressed by the long flights.”

She points to the next three photos, the first has the Mercedes drivers in Tommy Hilfinger, posing for the photo. “Lew and Georgie, the adopted older brothers I never asked for, but I love them.” The second photo has three other familiar faces making faces at the camera, “C2, my Ferrari boys, feat Pear, there is something wholesome about good looking men looking so silly, I love those guys and I love this picture, it is very on brand with them.”  The tennis player smiles at the camera. “Sharls, Carlitos and Pear are three of the nicest guys I have ever met, it is truly a blessing be able to call them friends and having them in my life.”

McLaren driver Lando Norris, in his third or fourth season, apparently not even realizing he was having his photo taken, it's a spontaneous photo, the soft sunlight highlighting the driver's profile as he smiles.

“Because of karting, I’ve known Lando since I was a head taller than him, he was my first crush…he was so shy, so adorable, so babygirl coded.” Y/n blushed a little as she shows the photo.

“I think most of the current grid is in here…oh, look, it’s Lance! Friends from life, from tennis…” She quickly changes showing another photo. “I think I easily have about sixty photos here..."

#Camera

“I don’t have a specific camera I like more than the others, but as a rule, I prefer vintage cameras just for the beauty of the final result, I inherited a few, I bought a few, I usually develop the photos when I'm at home for longer periods of time, edit the videos, digitalize a few…” She points to the cameras in front of her, a Bolex, a Digital Bolex, a very iconic Rolleiflex and a Super 8, “It is a very nostalgic experience to just go through a year worth of memories…” She says resting her face in her hand, “I have a hundred boxes with pictures and film rolls.”

“I love going through old pictures with my mom and Cass, my younger sister, from when we were babies, my parents in the 90’s, my mom when she was young, the wonderful life my grandparents lived, and is such a lovely moment to share with my mom.” Y/n has a soft smile on her lips. “One day, when I have my own kids, I want to have those moments with them, and not just scrolling through a phone or an iPad.”

#Journals

“I keep journals since I was a child, I get a new one every year,” She holds up the leather hardcover notebook, a deep indigo blue, a little worn around the edges, “after I turned thirteen years old, I started to get it in this specific shade of blue, with my initials in gold,” The girl opens the journal, leafing through it briefly, “I am never going to write an auto-biography, it’s kind of a little bit too egocentric to my taste,” She knocks it closed, but keeps it up, looking at the camera as she speaks , “but if someone ever write about me, fifty years from now… the facts will be straight, at least from my point of view… but even if no one ever writes about me… when I am old and grey and memory starts to fail me, I will be able to come back to the thoughts of twenty years old me…”

There is a moment of silence.

“That was kind of dark.” Y/n laughs to break the tension.

#Art Supplies

“I love to draw and paint, it eases the anxieties of life,” The tennis player shows the large sketchbook, a small aluminium case with the watercolours, and the rolling leather case with pencils and brushes, “I always bring a watercolour travel kit with my sketchbook wherever I go.”

She displays for the internet some of the landscapes she painted during her travels around the world.

#Hoodies

“I like to be comfortable after a match,” she spreads her arms across the perfectly folded hoodies on the table, “and nothing is more comfortable than a hoodie, feels a little bit like home.”

“I have my collection of hoodies with Adidas, they always provide me with new cool colours to try out and see if I want to add to the next collection,” Y/n opens sage green hoodie, running her hand over her initials and the Adidas logo. “Enchanté by Dani Ric, I have a bunch of those, Daniel is always kind enough to drop them at my house in Monaco, VIP treatment baby.” She points to the white hoodie. “Quadrant hoodies, Lando’s merch, ridiculously comfy, I would really like them in pastel colours or dusty rose… just putting out to the universe…” Y/n smiles and winks at the camera. “Valtteri, MV1… those all came with me for the US Open.”

#Skincare

“This is part of my daily routine.” The girl opens the toiletry bag, taking out the products inside, “I am always in different countries and different hotel rooms, so is nice to have this little sense of routine.”

She lines the pearlescent bottles with opaque round lids on top of the table.

“I launched Muse when I was seventeen years old, it is my skincare brand, and it is very me. I wanted it to be un-complicated and complete,” The young woman explains passionately looking at the camera, “skin is the body’s largest organ, and it is not only your face.” It affects the hair on your face, tucking it behind your ear before going back to the product bottles. “The line goes from body wash to suncream to night-time routine.”  

#Travel Pillow

“If I mess up my neck and shoulder, I am f***ed, my match is over and possibly the tournament.” She holds up a medium-sized pillow to the camera, the pillowcase light pink silk with red buttonholes around the edges and her initials in the corner. “So, this baby goes with me everywhere, it is a memory foam pillow with a silk pillowcase. Best sleep, best hair.”

#Sport Gear

“I generalized here, sport gear, I travel heavy, always,” she points to the array of equipment on the table, “this is my racket, I go to each tournament with around ten of those, just in case I wreak one on the ground,” Y/n passes her hand over the racket, “those are custom Yonex Ezone 98, they made it in Mountbatten pink with some cool pattern and my initials,” she smiles as she pulls the helmet close to her chest, “my helmet, also custom Mountbatten pink, with my initials in rose, I love to try new karting tracks, most people don’t know I used to race karts when I was younger, won a couple of trophies, went as far as F3 before I choose to go pro with tennis, car racing is a huge thing in my family…my dad used to race, my stepmom was a driver, my little brother probably going to be a F1 driver,” she recounts with a smile, “I joked once with my dad that we are at a window that if I have a kid in the next year or two, in twenty years we can have a Wolff’s drivers line-up for Mercedes.” The young woman smirks to the camera. “My dad almost passed out, and now I am not allowed to date until I am thirty.”

#Headphones

“Those are custom made for me, again, they are Mountbatten pink and rose with my logo, super comfortable on the ears, I usually have problems with headphones due to the piercings and earrings, but these didn't give me any problems, they fit well, and I can spend the whole day wearing them." She takes the gadget out of the case, showing the details. “It's not wireless, because I always forget to charge it, so it has a wire, they made this lovely, thick cord that is durable and super resistant,” Y/n wraps the rope around her fingers, “it is noise cancelling and it is always with me before every match as an essential part of my pre-match rituals.”

“The right music kind of puts you in the right mood, I usually go with Eminem in 80% of my matches, I feel like it unleashes my inner fighter, these are matches where I'm not really worried about my opponent, it is just raw and a little bit thoughtless, I just play,” she comments, “when I know that my opponent is going to be hard on the mind games, which is not an uncommon move in tennis, I tend to listen to calmer and more melancholic music, piano, it keeps me in a more peaceful zone, I don’t get pumped up and full of adrenaline, my game tends to be far more calculated…”

 #

“That’s it. Those were my ten essentials,” the young woman smiles, “thank you, GQ, for allowing me to share my essentials, much appreciated, and thank you guys for taking the time to watch it! Much love and see you next time!” The athlete says, blowing a kiss and winking to the camera as the credits shows up.

__________________________________________

2,109,963 views   Aug 29, 2022

978 Comments

 userone

i was todays yrs old when i found out that tennis superstar Y/n Wolff is the eldest child of THE Toto Wolff

            user1

            From what little she talks about her dad here, u just get the vibes that Merce boss Toto is a softie girl dad, he keeps her favourite candy in his offices and forbids her to date until she’s thirty, this is so sweet

haterone

a billionaire’s nepo baby, talking about her millionaire friends and her unrelatable lifestyle and things

usertwo

Y/n’s hair is probably the healthiest hair i ever seen i need her hair routine

userthree

I am so obsessed with her career! I want to see her continue to succeed and be one of the biggest tennis players of all times. She deserves it. Such a talented, humble kid.

userfour

i loved hearing her talk about her family and friends!!! it is so crazy that she is close friends with a bunch of F1 drivers.

            hatertwo

            Not so crazy since she’s literally a f1 nepo baby, her daddy is part owner of Mercedes.

userfive

She's like that one super popular chick in school who's actually a total sweetheart.

usersix

I totally relate to her being a sweet tooth

@userseven

I love that she was not talking to the camera. She was actually talking to the people there behind the scenes

usereight

i love how a lot of these items are usually a stereotype of being pretentious—a vintage cartier cigarette case, a film camera, a leather bound custom hermes journal, art supplies--but she talks about all of them with such genuine interest and attachment that it doesnt seem pretentious at all

usereighteen

U r the one name dropping the brands she uses…

usernine

Her nicknames for Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz Jr and Pierre Gasly… I died dead…

            user9

            The fact that she’s gushing about lando and being so sweet about her childhood crush on him oml

            user10

            Omg it is so cuuute!!! Like, she had a crush on little Lando and not McLaren glow up Lando Norris

            user11

            I used to be so conflicted shipping her with the drivers, because she dates that tennis player, but her insta has a bunch of her and Charles and her and Pierre and her and Lance and it is so cute and kind of gives such soft vibes, those boys look half in love with her in most pictures, also ...the chemistry. but seeing the way she talks about Lando… they r my new diehard ship…

userten  

Are we going to ignore that she confessed that Lando Norizz was her first crush???

            user1

            They would be so cute together… and they ate both single now… at the same time… we can dream…

            user12

            i went ten steps further and in my head, they are already getting married and having cute future Mercedes world drivers’ champions…

user13

 Can we already dream of Lando at Mercedes???

usereleven

Ok… but didn’t Lando once commented like, very briefly, in a McLaren video, that he used to have a crush on a girl that used to go karting with him??? The girl who wore red ribbons in her hair… do you guys know who uses red ribbons in heir hair since she was an actual baby?? Y/n! There is a pic in her insta of her in a karting track with her dad, and she has red bows in her hair…

            user11

            Not gonna lie… It would be kinda of cute if they actually had a mutual childhood crush and then eventually end up together as adults…

next part»

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Chloe Cole

Published: July 28, 2023

On Thursday, her 19th birthday, Chloe Cole testified to Congress with a “final warning” that medical treatments to change the gender of confused children is horrific. Cole, who was given surgery as a teenager to become male and soon regretted it, said what she needed most was therapy, not a scalpel. Here is what she told lawmakers:

My name is Chloe Cole and I am a de-transitioner.

Another way to put that would be: I used to believe that I was born in the wrong body and the adults in my life, whom I trusted, affirmed my belief, and this caused me lifelong, irreversible harm. 

I speak to you today as a victim of one of the biggest medical scandals in the history of the United States of America. 

I speak to you in the hope that you will have the courage to bring the scandal to an end, and ensure that other vulnerable teenagers, children and young adults don’t go through what I went through. 

Deceit & coercion 

At the age of 12, I began to experience what my medical team would later diagnose as gender dysphoria.

I was well into an early puberty, and I was very uncomfortable with the changes that were happening to my body. I was intimidated by male attention. 

And when I told my parents that I felt like a boy, in retrospect, all I meant was that I hated puberty, that I wanted this newfound sexual tension to go away.

I looked up to my brothers a little bit more than I did to my sisters. 

I came out as transgender in a letter I sent on the dining room table.

My parents were immediately concerned.

They felt like they needed to get outside help from medical professionals. 

But this proved to be a mistake.

It immediately set our entire family down a path of ideologically motivated deceit and coercion.

The general specialist I was taken to see told my parents that I needed to be put on puberty-blocking drugs right away. 

They asked my parents a simple question: Would you rather have a dead daughter or a living transgender son? 

The choice was enough for my parents to let their guard down, and in retrospect, I can’t blame them.

This is the moment that we all became victims of so-called gender-affirming care.

I was fast-tracked onto puberty blockers and then testosterone. 

The resulting menopausal-like hot flashes made focusing on school impossible.

I still get joint pains and weird pops in my back.

But they were far worse when I was on the blockers. 

Forever changed 

A month later, when I was 13, I had my first testosterone injection.

It has caused permanent changes in my body: My voice will forever be deeper, my jawline sharper, my nose longer, my bone structure permanently masculinized, my Adam’s apple more prominent, my fertility unknown. 

I look in the mirror sometimes, and I feel like a monster.

I had a double mastectomy at 15.

They tested my amputated breasts for cancer.

That was cancer-free, of course; I was perfectly healthy.

There is nothing wrong with my still-developing body, or my breasts other than that, as an insecure teenage girl, I felt awkward about it.

After my breasts were taken away from me, the tissue was incinerated — before I was able to legally drive. 

I had a huge part of my future womanhood taken from me.

I will never be able to breastfeed.

I struggle to look at myself in the mirror at times.

I still struggle to this day with sexual dysfunction.

And I have massive scars across my chest and the skin grafts that they used, that they took of my nipples, are weeping fluid today, and they’re grafted into a more masculine positioning, they said. 

After surgery, my grades in school plummeted.

Everything that I went through did nothing to address the underlying mental health issues that I had.

And my doctors with their theories on gender that all my problems would go away as soon as I was surgically transformed into something that vaguely resembled a boy — their theories were wrong.

The drugs and surgeries changed my body, but they did not and could not change the basic reality that I am, and forever will be, a female. 

Depths of despair 

When my specialists first told my parents they could have a dead daughter or a live transgender son, I wasn’t suicidal.

I was a happy child who struggled because she was different. 

However at 16, after my surgery, I did become suicidal.

I’m doing better now, but my parents almost got the dead daughter promised to them by my doctors.

My doctor had almost created the very nightmare they said they were trying to avoid. 

So what message do I want to bring to American teenagers and their families?

I didn’t need to be lied to.

I needed compassion.

I needed to be loved. 

I needed to be given therapy that helped me work through my issues, not affirmed my delusion that by transforming into a boy, it would solve all my problems. 

We need to stop telling 12-year-olds that they were born wrong, that they are right to reject their own bodies and feel uncomfortable with their own skin. 

We need to stop telling children that puberty is an option, that they can choose what kind of puberty they will go through, just like they can choose what clothes to wear or what music to listen to. 

Pseudoscience 

Puberty is a rite of passage to adulthood, not a disease to be mitigated.

Today, I should be at home with my family celebrating my 19th birthday.

Instead, I’m making a desperate plea to my elected representatives.

Learn the lessons from other medical scandals, like the opioid crisis. 

Recognize that doctors are human, too, and sometimes they are wrong. 

My childhood was ruined along with thousands of de-transitioners that I know through our networks.

This needs to stop. You alone can stop it. 

Enough children have already been victimized by this barbaric pseudoscience.

Please let me be your final warning. 

Thank you.

Might as well call her a murtad and kufr.

"The medical industry mutilated me, maybe don't mutilate other kids," shouldn't require bravery or renouncing an ideology.

Reminder: A minor under the age of 18 is too young to agree to a cellphone contract. 🤦‍♀️

[fluff-n-cookies]

Hello :)

Could you please do and platonic Aizawa x daughter reader?

His daughter is in her teen years so she is being like really rebel and all that so they fought a lot, but one day she just breaksdown during one fight and starts crying and apologizing for being a shitty daughter?

I have been avoiding this for so long, and it's all because I have no idea how aizawa would handle something like this. because it goes against everything that Aizawa would try and teach his kid so this may be a little forcefully written, apologies.

TW : unhealthy parenting, mental illness, some suicidal thoughts, probably angsty shit, I dunno, read at your own risk.

We can start this by walking through how this may start in the first place. I think the best place to start is that reader's mom left her and Aizawa when she was very young, and Aizawa, assuming here he didn't understand how to properly tell her why her mother left her, never tells her why.

Now reader is very young so she might blame one of two things.

herself

her father

While both instances would technically work, I think the more favorable option is she blames herself since a young child would probably never blame an adult they look up to and hold dear as the problem.

Up to this point her father has been really kind to her so the only other variable is her, this spirals into social anxiety, low self esteem, and depression. all of which don't help when you have an absent mother and a neglectful father who is both a teacher and a full time hero, which leaves little to no room for children.

(this is also why I think it isn't realistic for Aizawa to keep Eri or a child without another non-hero caretaker. Fight me, I dare you.)

As time goes on, and this child becomes a teenager, she might not know how to properly express her feeling and after being misguided by factors like the internet, other adults, and "friends" she might take out the feeling of being abandoned on her closest caretaker and another source of her problems; Aizawa.

if you purposely yell at him or start arguments it's not going to be very fun because Aizawa has this complex where if his students or other heros represent incompetence or arrogance he expels them or ignores him rather than explaining it to them and helping them improve, this is especially with students.

and since he lacks a true connection with you as his daughter mainly because of his job(s) and past with Oboro which he is still trying to heal from keeping him from bonding with you, he'll treat you as a student like the rest of the teenagers he knows. and even then, you may actually be treated worse than his students because while he interacts with them daily, he interacts with maybe 1 hour every other day.

so from all that he simply ignores you, just stops interacting with you entirely, he's too tired for your bullshit. this action makes the wedge between you two even worse.

if you keep persisting though he will yell back but it's often really short and really loud. something like "SHUT UP" a cold "I don't care." before slamming the door in your face. He knows it's probably not right to do that to your daughter but let's face it. you're just this annoying teenager he legally has to live with if he doesn't want to lose his hero and teaching license.

this is where things actually get very interesting, because let's assume he stops approaching you entirely, you just live in the same house nothing more than that, and while you may act like you hate your father for ruining your family and neglecting you all your life on the outside, remember, you're still that little kid in second grade that blames yourself for your mother leaving and your father not caring for you.

so let's say you realize this and go back to blaming yourself for everything like you did when you where a kid but since your father stopped talking to you entirely explaining your faults to him maybe difficult.

this where my personal experiences come in, I've actually had this happen to me in my own life, and I truely hope that you'll enjoy it. thank you.

---------

why is it that the voices are the loudest in the dead of night?

the moon is gone, the birds are silent, there isn't a single light that shines on your tear streaked face, puffly, swollen, sad, just sad.

years of confusion, neglect, a lack of love in it's purest form.

all because of you.

it's all because of you.

it's sings so prettily, like it's a church choir spreading the word of the lord like it's common knowledge.

it's common knowledge that you are a terrible person!

it cackles.

the urge to strangle yourself to finally feel some relief has never been stronger.

lie awake in the dead of night, in pitch darkness, a proper scenery to match ones broken and cracked soul, be careful, you might hurt yourself, again.

however, one cannot weep in their wallows forever.

the night has to make way for the morning sun.

and a relaxed self pity has to make way to dread.

dread.

dread of him, he who you blame for everything, everything you know is your fault.

it's all your fault.

a click at the door,

the creak of the old wood and the hinges never oiled.

mild thumping footsteps that wander around the apartment that can barely hold your overflowing buckets of tears.

you can mumble out all your pleas.

pleas that this is all a terrible nightmare and your real life is actually one with a kind and loving mother and a supportive and encouraging father.

mumble out the little lies that you made up all these years to make yourself feel worse and other better.

"it's pointless to keep trying."

"I wish I wasn't here."

"why can't I just be happy?"

"it's all my fault,

it's all my fault,

it's all my fault."

the thin walls don't do those in mourning justice though.

for the wind is calm, the branches don't dare to move, the owls, the bats, the sleeping heros in training downstairs don't make a peep.

for the only ones alive, awake, aware, is a man beaten down and broken by society serving as it's protector, ignoring the one in most need of protection all this time. With him is a girl. a girl that's scared, scared of her mirror image that haunts her, a girl who's cried an ocean, screamed a thousand wails of pain, a girl lost in her own heart,

"No wonder no one loves you."

you lie again.

but keen ears trained from years of work with villains hears you, for the first time, he hears you.

not the rebellious teen he's seen yell out strings of pure hatred and fiery insults like he's her own worst enemy.

it's the girl who he saw waiting on the steps to their apartment all those years ago. waiting for her mama to come back home with the promise of cupcakes.

it's the girl who never smiled for the remainder of elementary school.

it's the girl who's heart withered way that autumn evening.

he heard the softest little voice in the dead of night. he heard his daughter cry

"No wonder no one loves you."

.

.

.

"But I love you."

for that whole night, for that whole night.

the peace was disturbed.

for that whole night, it seemed that the moon shone once again.

it may not be the sun. but it'll do for now.

Aizawa walked away shortly after that.

leaving a little girls and her mirror image to ponder.

ponder.

---------

Afterwards I don't think he'd talk about it too much, he's proabably approach you after breakfast the next morning and tell you "you can talk to him about it if you want." but not much more than that

he definitely would change his practices though. like getting you a therapist, taking the weekends off in favor of being around the house more.

he'll let you get used to his presence first like one would with a cat, and one day. maybe years later, or tomorrow, you'll talk to him.

you'll tell him you love him too.

and maybe.

just maybe.

the world will stop,

and everything will be okay.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

I have an idea if you accept💕

What would the romantic and scary version be like? From the nun! Alastor with reader, where the 7 years that Alastor disappeared in hell, for some reason he was summoned by someone (probably teenagers doing stupid things) and because of that, he was trapped in the radio, of course he took advantage of this to haunt everyone who bought the radio ... Until the Human! reader bought the radio, but what Alastor didn't expect was that he fell in love with her after a while... Just like in the horror film Valak, apart from the romance part, it's obvious! (film: The Conjuring).

Note feel comfortable could be a yandere alastor? If it can't be normal....

Wicked Woman~

Alastor X Reader

(I love this concept, especially if, later on down the line, the reader dies and remembers her life with Al. Please let me know if you would like this as a part two. I followed closely to what you asked but put my spin on it. Hope you all enjoy.)

TW: Dark themes, Murder, Death, Yandere Type Tendencies, Stockholm Syndrome

Alastors POV

Hell was everything I could ask for it to be. After my untimely death by those damn dogs, I vowed to continue my pursuit of power and strength. I entered hell unfathomably powerful, and I will take hell over with this power. I was feared and revered even by the highest class of demons that walked among us. Thousands of poor, unfortunate souls rested in my claws. Even in this prey-like form, I was purely a predator. 

How my name ended up in those damn demon books up top was beyond me; it probably had something to do with the one I sold my soul to for even more power—a damn trick to make me suffer for having power that rivaled those in all of hell. Yet, no one was brave enough to fully summon me or try and control me. I was elusive and would scare anyone who wanted to open ties with me on the mortal plane. However, that was my biggest downfall. In hopes of showing off my immense power and strength, I allowed those up top to know more about me in the end.

Ironically, children sought to summon me more than any damn adult; hell, I even thought cult leaders would call upon me more than this. That fateful day, though, when I was trapped in the radio, was due to some pesky teenage punks looking to harm some poor young girl. I hate people like that, those who prey on the weak, just like my father. 

It was quick work killing those teens off; the world was probably thousands of times better off without them. Yet every time I tried to go back to hell, I was stuck, some weird plan of reality; I was there on earth, but I wasn't. This had to be another twisted game my master was putting me through. It was another joke to show how I was still just below them on the food chain of power.

I knew showing my demon form would be unwise in this place; enough people tried calling on me as it was. While deciding my next plan of action, I heard the sirens coming close to the location of the slaughter. Sighing, I absorbed myself in the radio, hidden from sight and out of mind. Watching the clean-up was entertaining, but scaring the wits out of the police and cleaning crew was far superior. 

Once all was said and done, I learned this cabin was in the middle of the woods, once owned by one of those teens' parents. After the gruesome murders and odd occurrences around the house done by yours truly, they sold it off. This left a gorgeous cabin in the woods empty for me to enjoy. Being so secluded, I could come and go from the radio as I pleased; no need to fear that someone would see me.

This cabin reminded me so much of my home in the bayou with my mother. The woods resembled that of where my father took me hunting, resembled where I ended his life, and countless other horrible humans that got in my way. This place felt like I was living my human life once more with less killing that is.

For a year, I had tried going back to hell countless times. However, I realized till my master needed me, I was trapped here on the mortal plane. Accepting my fate, I decided to give up on hell and take this nice vacation. Who knows, maybe with my time away, I could have new ladders to climb upon my return. Plus, no one would dare to buy a cabin in the middle of the woods after a gruesome murder, where it was deemed haunted. 

I was dead wrong, however, when I heard the noises outside the cabin door. It finally happened on the day that marked the first year of my purgatory on the human plane. Someone had bought the cabin in the woods. I was shocked and almost pleased with this person's brazen stupidity. It's probably another punk kid wanting to do rituals or someone running away from their misdeeds. 

Yet the biggest surprise was the young woman who entered the house with the first set of boxes. She was lovely, kind, and vibrant. She wore a large black hat even though the skies were cloudy gray. Her voice sounded like bells from a chapel, and her smile radiated the sun's light. If my undead heart could beat, it would be beating faster. 

I swore off love at a young age, only courting women when it allowed me closer to targets that I needed to kill. Once in hell, I just killed to kill, no need for love or emotions. Yet this woman lit something within me that was to be feared and hated. 

As the days passed, I watched her unpack her boxes. I learned she was a Wiccan, finding joy in the dark and light of all things. I knew she knew I was there. She could feel me lurking in the shadows and hovering around. No matter how often she saged the house, I stayed, an entity far surpassing her mortal purities and spirituality. However, I would hand it to her; her spiritual prowess was strong.

I tried relentlessly to scare her off; I had a rule about killing women: unless they were evil, I would never lay a hand on them. So, all I had going for me was scare tactics and horror. Convincing her, I would eventually kill her. A few cuts and bruises here or there from a broken floorboard or a throwing knife. She never budged, though, a smile on her face as she said a prayer and went on with her day like I hadn’t just hung knives above her head. 

Months had passed since she joined me in this cabin; she cut firewood early in the morning, would come home, shower, cook food, go out to the town an hour away, and then come home and relax or pray to her deities. She did not care about my existence; the more I became attached to her, the more she didn’t care or fear. She took to calling me Shadowy, a stupid name but chosen purely due to me refusing to show her my proper form. I lurked in the shadows, only allowing that to be seen. Sure beat her first name for me, Radioy; humans suck at naming things.

Sitting at two years trapped in the mortal realm with a woman I was growing fond of wasn’t my ideal step in the process of unlimited power. However, I was more content trapped here in this cabin as long as it was with her and her alone. She would bring men over, enjoy their company, and send them on their way. They never made it far, though, having accidents as they returned to their place. Even when she left the house for the night to see them, I knew exactly who they were. 

By year three, she had stopped dating, growing frustrated with my senseless killings. The police had shown up at our door countless times to question her involvement, only for them to fade from existence as well. She stopped going outside much, only cutting firewood and grocery shopping occasionally. As much as it pained me to see her light diminishing, it also fueled a sick, sadistic part of me. 

I enjoyed watching her more; now that I didn’t have to worry about others popping up, I began showing her my proper form. A slight sense of pride swelled in me as she became pleased to witness my deer-like looks. Though I hated my looks, how she fawned over me, almost forgetting all my misdeeds towards her, was pleasing. I allowed myself to indulge in daily life with her, I stopped trying to scare her or kill her, and we fell into a semblance of domestic life. 

Once year four came around, she was tied to the house after interacting with a hunter in the woods. I would go out and kill her meat and anyone on our land. I would bring her wood and sustenance with my face covered in the blood of those who dared to try me. Eventually, she, too, became okay with this method of mine, and I was thrilled. I had my perfect human right here just for me. 

I taught her how to dance and cook meals my mother once taught me, showing her the joys of good Southern cooking. Though I could not process the cooked meals I showed her, I knew feeding her and making her strong was all that mattered. I gained plenty of sustenance by killing off anyone who came close to her. I gained sustenance by watching her fall more into me and my spell as I fell more into hers.

 Year five came around, and I had her clung to me; she was mine and mine alone. She gave up on her deities and only worshiped me. Fueling the God complex I already had, I swore to make her mine; no other man or demon could take her. She was powerful spiritually, and she would be vital in her death when she joined me. 

I began teaching her how to kill and maim those who entered our woods. I taught her how to murder and never be caught. In the beginning, she was horrible. I had to end a lot of police lives, yet she grew stronger as time went on. Soon, she was as notorious of a serial killer as I once was. The woods covered our tracks, ensuring we were hidden from the eyes of others. Oh, how I wished when I was alive that a spirit would assist me like this in my kills. 

In year six, I knew she was as strong as I was when I fell to hell. I made her so perfect, molding her to my ways. I knew when her time came in death, she would find me; my Doe. She used her spiritual powers to assist me in breaking my binds to my master. Though nothing ever seemed to work, she was persistent. I was proud; I understood why pride would be such a sin. Watching her work her powers and drain herself for me was delicious. 

This year was the year I finally claimed her. I took her and made her mine, not just in thought or word but in mind and body. I would not allow anyone to ruin my hard work. She was perfect, and she deserved me as I did her. We were bonded in a way that transcended soul bonds or mortal relationships. We were unstoppable.

This knowledge alone is why, come year seven, I felt the shift in my presence. I knew it was coming to my departure from her world. My master was calling me back to hell, threatened by the perfect morsel that I had created. My master knew I would be unstoppable if I followed my plan to convince her to die, to join me in the afterlife as one. This alone is what sent me back to hell, the fear I struck in the one I had controlling me.

I knew when it was my time to perish, she would join me here, and we would rule hell side by side. No one would stop that—no contract, no princess, and certainly no king. Though I enjoy the hotel and the people I have met there, I know my power only has room to grow. My doe would make quick work of anyone who dared to take her from me. She was left on earth to grow stronger and stronger to benefit me in her death. To help me rule all of hell. I would be unstoppable and grow immensely in all dimensions and planes of reality.

Oh, and my power will grow; it will grow when my wicked woman joins us in this fiery blaze…

[thatsmybook]

A few times, I've heard Lisa and Rojda talk about how Young Royals is about the class system and a queer Prince, but also, it's relatable because not only do the cast look like teenagers, they act like teenagers in today's world. So it's also a show about teenagers. With that in mind, I'd like to talk about Simon Eriksson, working class, immigrant, and mixed race student at Hillerska, falling in love with the Prince.

Simon, in S1, deliberately kept any problems about Sara and his life at Hillerska hidden from his mum because he did not want to burden her. He lied to reassure her when she'd get worried about Sara and equally made decisions to help Sara's wellbeing at school. It seemed that he was taking care of his mum and sister when his dad left and after the abusive relationship that seemed to have really affected the whole family. This is why he doesn't share anything bad that he's going through with his mum. He's trying to protect her. He always has.

As to the comments he is getting. I think he is reading them because often they concern his family and are from the people in their town. That, along with the phone calls at night and hate-mail mentioned by Linda at the court hearing in S3 ep1, this means that he's on hyper-vigilance about threats to him and his family. So, my theory is that he is monitoring his comments and engaging to try to defuse things. But just like in all 3 seasons, his actions often lead to more problems.

This is a 16 year old kid, the youngest in his family, doing things an adult should be doing. This is very relatable for many working-class single parent families. Something to add about first-generation kids of immigrant families, having an extra layer of working to help the family navigate the country and society they're in.

Also, as to the comments, there have been many real life incidents, unfortunately , of teenagers getting hate comments online from their peers and bullied to the point of taking their own lives. Simply telling them not to read the comments may not have worked for them. (Yet so many reactors to this season think it's that simple).

Simon is getting a volumous amount of hate comments, which started right after the sex video was released in S1. At that point, the comments were in the print media.

He needs actual support, less obliviousness from the adults in his life about what is happening to him (that includes the Royal Court), and understanding about the actual effect of comments on his mental health from everyone around him. He is a victim of actual hate, and when I hear about any child going through that kind of regular abuse, my heart goes out to them.

Seeing how supportive Simon's dad could be in this 3rd season in his conversations with Sara, we can see how much Simon actually misses his dad. Because had he had a relationship with him, without the baggage of Sara's need for distance, he would have probably noticed that Simme needed help and been quite good at it, when he could manage it.

However, we as the audience seem to be blinded by Wille's more important problems, partly because the show is largely from his POV, but also because his pressures seem bigger. As a result, I've seen fans come down on Simon for not putting his life's woes in perspective to support Wille more. We start to see big cracks in their relationship and start to feel that they just won't work out.

But, they're also just kids in their first relationship. Miscommunication is completely normal at that age. They've only just been spending actual time with each other this season and getting to know each other. Yet they are dealing with adult problems, and so many of us fans are shouting at the screen - talk to each other! I feel like, if I were one of them, there is so much weight on me that I'd be too scared to open the floodgates and actually tell my boyfriend what's happening because I don't want to scare him. And no wonder they spend most of their time making out. It's the easiest part of their relationship and what gives them actual joy at the moment.

So I give grace to these characters and kudos to the creators of the show, for showing ACTUAL teenagers dealing with real life problems, amplified for drama because of the dichotomy of being a Prince and a commoner. But, I don't judge ANY of the characters when I apply the same analysis I've given here to Simon to all the other four characters. What this show requires of us adults is empathy for their plight and maybe a closer look at the teenagers in our lives. What it does for the teen audience is show them that they're not alone when they mess up or are dealing with life pressures. We as a society won't judge them. We will work to understand them and share their burdens.

[myalvmss]

⎯⎯ PROLOGUE, TRAVELING STAR ❞

DESC. y/n had been living her life as a detective, being extremely successful with her solved cases. however, she finds herself at the end of her path as she walked onto the next path of her new life.

WARNINGS. death, suicide, a little bit of swearing, gore

BUTTERFLY'S NOTE. this is mainly about y/n's backstory and her old life, information about how she died etc etc!! Lowercase intended. Also just a little heads up, a little rushed!!

LYRICS. "live fast, die young. bad girls do it well!" - Bad Girls by M.I.A.

PREV. ｟ MASTERLIST. ｠ NEXT.

Y/N is a full grown adult that lives alone in her apartment. as a detective, seventy nine percent of your life have you been using your brain. you never once tried following your heart, and it was expected you will never use it. because from what you thought, it was risky. and you can't risk your life falling into pieces of glass that can't be fixed. but did this mean y/n never had a partner in her life? yes, definitely. she was alone her whole life, mostly believing that she can take care of herself and become independent.

even her parents didn't care, but, it was expected for them. y/n hasn't heard from her parents for such a long time, she honestly assumed that they were out of country, or something. one thing for sure, y/n and her parents had officially cut ties from each other. during y/n's childhood and teenage years, y/n and her parents didn't specifically have a good relationship. it was like strangers living in one house. it awfully was quiet. nobody even talked during dinner, not has y/n even seen her parents talk to each other. It was obvious that her parents never loved each other. the relationship was only to satisfy her grandparents. even y/n herself was used to satisfy like some object. how rude!

currently, y/n was in her office as she skimmed through a few criminal records. she sighed, “how boring and predictable for these amateurs.” she muttured, setting down the useless criminal records on the table. all she saw in those criminal records were basically just robbing and other common crimes committed. it was like y/n wanted to handle a more serious case, it's just that.. actually, nevermind. she does, yet y/n herself denies it.

⎯⎯

it's been two hours. and finally, someone decided to report something. Y/n was called to come and arrive at a certain house, it was medium-sized and well kept. as y/n got out of her car, taking a few glances around the house. “the plants hasn't been watered for a span of two days.” y/n thought before ringing the doorbell. everything seemed so strangely unpleasant. it was always a feeling that y/n gets something is wrong, mostly occurs during investigations. the door opened, revealing a restricted crime scene where three policemen were there.

one of the few lessons y/n had learnt while studying criminology was to trust no one at all. she took a quick examine at the three policemen, before setting her eyes on the crime scene. it was a woman, who seems to be in her mid thirties.. hanged dead. “how did you get the report?” y/n asked, examining the cold body. “if you look at the body, the woman called before hanging herself. but we didn't have enough time to answer, all we could hear was the woman's mutters under her breath saying..”

“please help find my missing daughter one more time.”

⎯⎯

after a long time of investigating, it was already getting into a very late hour. yet it was assumed that the woman committed suicide after her daughter went missing. the woman called the police once and reported about it, however the investigation was closed off because she disappeared with no trace. after days of grief, the mother decided to kill herself. but y/n? oh, she's not the type to give up on a case like any other detective would. the request was given by the dead, and y/n will solve the case.

first, y/n decided to go search through the house. the missing girl was named amy, “what a beautiful name.” y/n thought despite the name 'amy' being very common. it still was beautiful. y/n walked into amy's room, searching around before she found an extra phone amy kept. it was locked, unfortunately. but that didn't stop y/n from trying. she decided to try and figure out the password, twenty minutes having to pass as y/n needed to wait the cooldown. as she waited, she flipped the phone and took off the casing, resulting in a piece of paper falling down to the ground. y/n picked up in time, it was written in nothing.

y/n raised an eyebrow. “curiouser and curiouser.” she spoke to herself. until an idea came to her mind.. y/n looked around the room, where she saw a case of pens, rulers and markers on the table. “bingo.” she searches through, later on finding a blacklight disguised as a marker. y/n turned it on, aiming at it towards the piece of paper. shining the blacklight at every single spot, until she stopped. starting to see the numbers, 8957. “smart girl. but not smart enough for me.” she chuckled, setting the password into the phone.

It thankfully unlocked. y/n searched through the phone contacts first, it was definitely a phone kept in secret from amy's parents. especially with the contacts only having one, which was a boy from what y/n sees. she looked into the chat, reading the messages. and the recent ones were just both of them wanting to meet up. “I think I know where this is going.” y/n thought. although this might be an assumption,

It was a definite piece of evidence to say this boy was a suspect. y/n read the recent messages, finding a location to where the two 'couple' was supposed to meet up at. y/n didn't wanna tell the police yet, she was only heading there to confirm. although this was dangerous, she can fight for herself and she had always knew that this job was dangerous considering how she is meddling with criminals.

but that never brought to the point where she stops. the location was definitely odd, yet this relationship between amy and the unknown boy was secret. the location there was awfully eerie, but it was a forest. it's expected and y/n got the usual feeling; where she feels like there's something wrong. “curiouser and curiouser.” but that feeling could never go against the will of you going further in. after a while of walking, she could hear sounds of a person stepping on fallen tree branches on the ground, y/n looked around.. she could barely see anyone at this time late at night, despite the fact she's holding a flashlight.

. . .

suddenly, someone was behind y/n, getting her caught off guard as they stabbed her through the vitals and abdomen. her eyes widened, feeling the knife pulling out. “shit..” y/n instantly fell to the ground, placing a hand on the stab wound on her chest as her blood started pouring out a whole lot. “y-you asshole..” she managed to speak, it was seriously a bad idea to even go out here at night, alone. she tried to face the person behind her, seeing a seventeen year old boy. “you're the boy who dated amy.. aren't you?” y/n questioned, as the boy chuckled with a little nod. “of course I am. i'm certainly impressed with your skills of finding out already,” and the boy answered. “but I can't let you live longer to tell this story.” he blurted out, before cutting the cord of y/n's life.

❝ That's how I met the end. But well..❞

or that's what y/n thought. the next thing she knew, she opened her eyes to see the beautiful eyes of a woman. “look at our baby girl right here.. she has beautiful eyes.” she smiled. “wh.. what's going on here?” she thought before recalling back the memories of her past self. it was long until y/n figured out she was reincarnated. but how? she didn't know how to answer that question. though, now, despite having the midset of a full grown adult who took criminology as a major, y/n had to act young. and that certainly wasn't gonna end well.

how did it end? well, due to her mindset of an adult, y/n ended up being seen as a born prodigy. learning big and long words already, and other talents she even develop. she grew older, her parents now in this current life was actually quite nice. they were.. surprisingly famous. y/n's mother was a famous ice skater, who though had to take break due to her pregnancy. however now, she can continue back her ice skating career. while for y/n's father — he was extremely good at martial arts, even taking part in archery competitions. now isn't that great?

even for y/n, she was able to learn those things thanks to the both of them. how incredible, with those talents, y/n can definitely end up in the entertainment industry. but what was she specifically gonna choose? well, that's a question asked for later. but right now, y/n wasn't known to the public just yet. well, the whole relationship thing between y/n's parents were also kept a secret ever since they were teenagers. it was just that.. they're just not ready to reveal it.

⎯⎯

It's been a few years now since y/n had adapted to this, new life. despite being still quite young, she was heading to the bakery near her home, using the main central streets. however, she stopped? looking at the massive commercial TVs on the building, it was only nothing but sad news. ai hoshino was murdered. y/n raised an eyebrow, wondering how exactly was she murdered. she needed details, and it was expected for this young girl to want details. not because she was such a crazy fan of ai hoshino — it was because of her past little detective occupation. however, she couldn't help but pity the ones who was dear to ai. she was devastated too, but she surely knew she could get over it. but one thing that came out from her mouth;

“curiouser and curiouser.”

TAGLIST:

@nambii @sandronebabyy

[cleoluvrr]

Smarty II (Rafe Cameron x OC)

SYNOPSIS: smart girl isn’t as smart as rafe cameron.

WARNINGS: mature content; dark!rafe, toxic relationship, domestic violence, verbal abuse, blackmail, jealousy, general violence, manipulative behavior, explicit language, substance abuse & addiction, use of guns, mentions of past crimes, obsession, controlling behavior, pouge!oc

masterlist

I remember the first time Rafe Cameron hit me.

It was a couple days after my eighteenth birthday, the two of us alone at Tannyhill. I hadn’t spoken to him in those days out of irritation, the memory of my birthday ending in disaster haunting me every time I closed my eyes.

Rafe threw me a big party at one of his father’s empty properties, the unused house filled with teens and young adults, drinking and singing along to music of my choosing. There was a table stacked with gifts from both friends and strangers alike, the phrase “happy birthday” was imprinted into my mind from the countless times I heard it that night.

I wore a pretty, pink dress–one that Rafe bought me specifically for that day. He told me I looked like a princess, and that was all the convincing I needed to put it on.

Rafe was supposed to drive me home that night after the party died down. He was supposed to kiss me sweetly on my doorstep before I went inside and tell me how beautiful I am.

Instead, he drove us deep into the Cut, claiming that he needed to run a quick errand before he dropped me off. I already knew where we were going–he had taken me plenty of times before–and it annoyed me greatly.

He was already high enough, his blown out pupils and constant sniffing the only evidence I needed to know. The fact that his priority was going to his drug dealer’s house made me upset, and I let him know that.

Rafe was irrational when he was high, but I didn’t think he would kick me out of his car and leave me stranded at the house of the guy that supplied his blow. 

It was dark out, the moon high in the sky as the night stretched on. All of my friends were drunk off their ass, my parents were asleep, and there were no car services running in that area at two in the morning. My boyfriend was long gone and despite the offer, I refused to get in a car with the man that sold drugs to teenagers for a living.

It was a relief when Kelce pulled up to me on the side of the road that night. I don’t remember how long I had been walking, but I do remember how grateful I was.

I also remember how much I wished I just kept walking home instead.

“Go away, Rafe! You’re scaring me!” I yelled from behind the door. The wood vibrated against my back as the man on the other side beat against it with his fist, my heart jumping every time it connected with the surface I pressed myself against.

“Open this fucking door!” Rafe’s voice was loud and angry even through the thick wood of the old house. 

My heart nearly jumped out of my body when he shook the doorknob with a terrifying strength, the entire frame shaking violently as he pulled against it with what I’m sure is his entire body weight. My hand flew to my mouth to keep the fearful yelp from escaping my lips after I felt the force of his foot kicking against the door.

I felt like I was in a horror movie–like I was Wendy and Rafe was Jack. I could feel the eyes of the audience watching in horror as I hid in a room with my boyfriend on the other side out for my blood. 

The sound of the door frame splintering drew a scream out of me, one that I couldn’t hide as I flung myself off the door. There was nowhere I could hide from the blonde on the other side, the room bare of any hiding spots other than the long table in the center. I ran to the part of the room farthest from the door, eager to put as much distance between the pulsating door and I as possible.

I watched in horror as the door flew open a few yards away, the wood by the handle splintering as Rafe’s foot made contact. 

“Rafe, please!” I squeaked out when he caught my eye. The fuming nineteen-year-old ignores my pleads, long legs making record time as the long strides carry him to me. “Please! Just–just calm down!”

I moved around the table, nearly stumbling over my own feet as I held my arms out in defense against Rafe who was fast approaching. 

“You’re dead.” Rafe grits through his teeth. His finger raises to point at me as an aid to emphasize his point, the other hand shoving the chairs I moved to block his path back under the table carelessly. “You hear me? You’re fucking dead!”

Spotting the open door just a few feet away, I take a final glance at the man before making an attempt to bolt for it.

I knew I wasn’t fast enough–the move was quite predictable and I‘m sure Rafe saw it coming from a mile away. I barely took four steps towards the frame before I felt his fingers grip the back of my shirt, the movement jerking me backwards and right into Rafe’s arms.

I felt my body hit the wall shortly after, the hard surface colliding with my body leaving a sharp pain in my side and arm as I’m thrown against it disgracefully. I don’t get the chance to recover before I feel a familiar hand make contact with the side of my head and press it into the cool surface of the wall. My body shivers from the sudden change in temperature, cheek flat against the patterned surface as Rafe holds me there in a bone crushing grip. 

“You think I’m stupid? You thought I wouldn’t find out?” The blonde says into my ear roughly, the feeling of his breath brushing against my ear giving me goosebumps. I shook my head the best I could under his hold, wincing as he pressed my head harder into the wall.

“Rafe, it’s not like that–”

I feel Rafe’s fingers move from the side of my face and take home in the roots of my hair, nails scratching against my scalp as he grips the strands by the base. He yanks me away from the wall by the hair balled up in his fist and I yelp in pain. 

“Huh?” Rafe forces me to meet his gaze, eyes glaring down at me angrily. “It’s not like what? You weren’t texting my friend behind my back? I’m imagining shit now?”

“Yes!” The worse slipped out faster than I could stop it, regret immediately filling my body as I held my own hand over Rafe’s that has found home in my now tender scalp. “No, Rafe. You’re just–it’s just a misunderstanding!”

Rafe digs into the depths of his pocket, scoffing at me in disgust as he does so. He pulls out a phone; my phone. The pink case catches my attention immediately as he unlocks the device with my own scared face. 

He already knew the passcode, the action was just one to show his power over me in the moment.

I watch him silently school through my text messages as I tremble in his arms, struggling to hold myself up in the strange and uncomfortable position. The screen reflects off his blue eyes as he reads through my conversations, the concept of privacy no longer.

“‘Thanks for the help, Kelce. I really needed that.’” He reads off the text I sent to his friend late last night. His eyes flicker up to mine, the depths of them filled with jealous rage as he forces me to stare into them. “What the fuck were doing texting my friend at two in the morning?”

“I was texting him because you left me stranded in the Cut with your drug dealer at two in the fucking morning, Rafe!” I snapped at him, the fear quickly turning into anger and frustration as he accused me of doing anything else. “Not that you would remember; you were too coked out to care about anything but yourself.”

I should have left him right then, but I didn’t. And It was no surprise that it would continue to happen.

Instead, I sit behind these grand, white walls of Tannyhill, eyes glued to the picture frame on Rafe’s desk.

He was working silently in front of me, fingers making quick work of the keyboard as his own eyes flicker back and forth from the computer screen to the papers spread across the dark wood of the desk that was once his father’s.

I looked so happy in that pretty, pink dress. A smile that stretched a mile wide grazed my lips as Rafe embraced me from behind, a fond look in his eye as he looked down at my glowing face.

The memories of those days would flood my mind the moment I set eyes on this house, which is why I couldn’t stand being here. I couldn’t live a life in a house where I can remember every room I’ve been beaten and berated in during one of my boyfriend’s coke induced rages.

Sighing heavily, I tear my eyes away from the picture and lean back onto the firm couch I was seated in. I try to hide the wince caused by the sharpness in my side as I move, ribs flaring up in pain once again. 

Rafe does not take being disrespected lightly–not by anyone. I already knew that before I said what I did a few nights before, and I also knew the consequences. 

I shouldn’t have been surprised when I woke up just a few hours later with him standing over me, the darkness of his looming figure making my heart stop for just a few seconds before I realized it was him. I should have known he would show crossed on God-knows-what, the mixture of substances increasing his hostility tenfold.

I didn’t fight against it when he ripped me out of the bed with a fistful of my hair, or when he threw me against my dresser, the sharp corner digging to my side as I was shoved into the piece of furniture. Rafe is bigger than I am, his strength outmatches mine dangerously; there was simply no point. I didn't cry out for help when his calloused palm struck my face the first time, nor the second time. 

When he told me to apologize, I did. When he went through my wardrobe and ripped apart all the outfits I’d been scolded by him for wearing to work, I said nothing. I stood silently as I watched the ruined fabrics pile up on the ground in front of me. When he told me that I was lucky to have him because no one else would want a girl that dresses like a prostitute, I didn’t argue.

I didn’t resist it because it would only make things worse for me. It always did.

He kissed me goodnight and I kissed him back like nothing happened, the ache in my side burning hot as he traced the stinging skin of my cheek where his heavy hand met my face just a few moments before.

I used to fight back in the beginning. I would kick, bite, scratch, scream. I would threaten to leave if he did it again, to tell the police and give them all the evidence.

“Who would believe you?” Is what he told me, and he was right.

Who would believe some random, middle-class girl over Ward Cameron’s son? On what planet would Ward ever allow his family’s name to be tainted by his son being arrested for hitting his girlfriend?

The defeat I felt is something I still cannot describe.

“Laia?” I snapped out of my thoughts by the sound of Rafe’s voice. My eyes land on him behind the desk, a hum leaving my lips in response. “You okay?”

I nodded my head, afraid that I’d whimper in pain from the rib that is surely bruised by his own doing. I pulled my hand away from the sore spot slowly, teeth clenching together to keep my face expressionless. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed by my boyfriend, blue eyes flickering down to the hand that I’ve removed from my side and back up to my face. He says nothing for a moment, just allowing our eyes to hold each other tensely.

“Come here.”

I stare at him for a long few five seconds before moving, ribs screaming as I stand up from my seat on the leather couch. I walk over to the blonde behind the desk, awkwardly standing in front of him as I await further instruction.

Rafe reaches forward to place his hands on my waist, the warm prints of his fingers pressed firmly into the skin under my top as he pulls me closer. He angles me sideways slightly, hand moving to lift up my shirt. He just stares silently for a minute as he analyzes the bruise, eyes glued to the large spot spread over my skin.

I knew exactly what it looked like; I’d been staring at it for three days and watching it change color as the time passed. It was big and splotchy, a mixture of yellow, red, and purple in a somewhat rectangular shape displayed across my left rib cage. It was nasty, and I’m sure Rafe thought the same.

“Damn, baby…” He finally breaks the silence. “I did this?” He looks up at me, eyes meeting mine as he waits for an answer.

I nodded my head again.

Rafe drags his gaze back down to the bruise, a look of both awe and pity covering his face. I flinch when his fingers move to trance over the perimeter of the bruise, sucking in a sharp breath of both pain and surprise from the lack of warning. The hand that grips my waist tightens, keeping me still as he studies it closer. 

Leaning into me, he brings his face to my side. I feel his soft lips press into the discolored skin, a gentle kiss that leaves me breathless for a moment. The gesture was something he did often; sweet kisses to cover the bruises he leaves behind.

It was poetic almost–like a band-aid over a bullet hole, or a drop of water in a wilted garden.

“You know I love you,” Rafe pulls away slightly, eyes peeking up to stare into mine. “Right?”

“I love you, too.” The words leave my mouth quietly, the phrase feeling at home on my lips. 

The blonde leans back into the chair and pulls me with him, his once open lap now occupied by me as I’m given no choice but to sit. The hand that was used to trace over the ache in my side rises to my face, the same palm he used to strike me now cupping my cheek warmly, thumb stroking over the skin softly. 

I’m tempted to lean into the familiar feeling, but I don’t, instead sitting stiffly on his thighs as he caresses my face. 

“You know I don’t like doing that–I hate it.” I nod my head at him wordlessly, the sight of his striking, blue eyes leaving me unable to speak. “But you just don’t give me a choice. I just…You make me so angry sometimes, Laia. And–and you do it on purpose.” He looks at me with an expression of both exasperation and desperation, head shaking from side to side as he speaks.

He wasn’t wrong–sometimes I did make him mad on purpose. Never over anything serious, only things like calling his favorite show boring or saying his outfit didn’t match. Little things that we would laugh about later.

This wasn’t one of those times.

I nodded anyway, choosing to maintain my silence in place of verbal response. It was just easier to get through it that way.

“All of our actions have consequences, baby.” He continues on, the familiar phrase vibrating against my eardrums. “You knew better than to say that, but you did it anyway. Do you not respect me?”

“I do…” I say quietly, a defensive tone barely present in my voice. 

“So why would you think it’s okay to say something like that to me?”

I didn’t know how to respond to him truthfully without him getting angry again. I said it because that’s what I thought at that moment.

“I said I was sorry…” My eyes dropped from his gaze, instead choosing to hold contact with my own hands as they twitched nervously in my lap. “I just…you were calling me names, and–and it made me really mad because I didn’t do anything wrong!” My voice barely raised an octave, but it was still enough to convey my frustration. 

“You’re right.” Rafe nods his head at me in response. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You looked very beautiful in that outfit and it’s not your fault that other guys can’t keep their eyes off you. I was being mean and I’m sorry for that.”

Rafe traces over my lips with his thumb, the warm digit gently smoothing out the pout that had appeared on my face. 

“But it’s not safe for you to be dressed like that around a bunch of gross, strange men you don’t know all day. You haven’t heard the things they say about you, but I have. It makes me sick.” He says with concern.

I look at him confused, unsure of what he’s talking about. All my customers have been nothing but respectful towards me, the implication of them being anything else but that leaving me puzzled.

“It scares me to think about what could happen if I weren’t there to watch over you…I just want you to be safe. I know you think I’m hovering; I know you think it’s annoying and ‘controlling.’” Rafe’s worry seems to be genuine, the crease between his brows deepening as he looks up at me in his lap. “I know that. But how else am I supposed to make sure nothing bad happens to you?”

“I can take care of myself, Rafe.”

“I know you think that, Laia. I’m not saying that you can’t, either.” My boyfriend shakes his head at me as he speaks. “You’re a smart girl, but you don’t know everything. I’m a guy–I know how guys think. Sometimes I know better than you do, and sometimes you should listen to me. Okay?”

I say nothing for a moment. There was a slight tension in the air and I could feel his eyes on me.

My eyes remained fixated on the fingers in my lap, nails picking at each other mindlessly. My gaze is pulled away from the digits by Rafe’s knuckles underneath my chin, my eyes forced to keep contact with his instead as he awaits my response.

“Okay?” He repeats the word a second time, not accepting my silence as an answer.

“Okay.” I say quietly.

Rafe nods his head at me, the fingers keeping my chin in place moving to tuck a loose braid behind my ear.

“And I’m sorry I hurt you this bad; I should have been more careful.” He says, referring to the big, fat bruise hidden beneath my shirt. “I was high and I–I shouldn’t have come over when I was like that. I went too far.”

Rafe says that every time this happens. He always has an excuse, whether he’s sober or higher than the moon that lights our sky at night. But I always accept it.

Maybe I was stupid for that, but it would be a lie to say that I cared. 

He was remorseful every time, I could see that it hurt him to see the pain he caused me after he finally calmed down. He would always apologize, and I would accept it because I knew he was really sorry–even if I knew it would probably happen again. 

I loved him too much to leave. I’d been with him for almost four years; he was my first kiss, my first date, my first–and only–boyfriend. I promised myself to him, the diamond ring with our names engraved inside had been sitting heavy on my finger for two of those years. I helped him through his darkest moments; through his cocaine addiction, when he got kicked out of his house, when his dad died. I was there for all of it.

This relationship meant too much to me to let it go–Rafe meant too much to me. It’s why I allowed so many things that people say I shouldn’t, why I allowed myself to be treated in a way that would make me pity someone else if they were going through the same thing.

I was strong enough to handle it all, even if it left me feeling drained at the end of the day. To me, it was a small price to pay.

“I don’t like being so rough with you, but I feel like it’s the only way you’ll listen to me.” Rafe sounds disappointed, though I’m not sure if it’s in himself or in me. “I don’t like it, but if that’s what I have to do, then that’s what’s going to happen. Clearly, it’s working.”

Rafe’s eye’s trail down to my outfit, silently approving the choice. The big, pink sweater I found at the back of my closet was far from seasonal, but I needed something to cover the bruises that littered my arms and body. The plaid skirt I paired with it was something Rafe bought for me a few weeks ago; I chose it because I wouldn’t have to worry about him not liking it.

“My sweet girl…” He says softly. His strong arms wrap around me firmly, careful to avoid the spot that I’d been nursing all day. “You’re just so perfect for me.”

I allowed myself to melt into him, the stiffness of my body gone as I accepted his warm embrace.

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Could you do a hotchniss x daughter reader where they have a teen daughter and she sneakily has a boy over and aaron and Emily come back from a case and they catch him leaving her room and aaron goes into protective dad mode

Aaron Hotchner X Emily Prentiss X Teen Daughter reader

Request: Could you do a hotchniss x daughter reader where they have a teen daughter and she sneakily has a boy over and aaron and Emily come back from a case and they catch him leaving her room and aaron goes into protective dad mode 

Third person pov...

Aaron Hotchner and Emily Prentiss had just returned from a particularly intense case in upstate New York. As they stepped off the plane, both agents were exhausted and eager to get back to their home in Virginia.

Little did they know, they were about to face one of their toughest challenges yet - parenting a teenage daughter.

Currently 16 year old Y/N was home alone, not entirely alone she had invited over her boyfriend, David to watch a movie knowing her parents would be on their way home.

They had already called to let her know they would be landing soon, the two had lots of fun spending the day together doing nothing but watching movies and raiding the kichen for snacks.

"Thank God we're back" Emily sighed as they made their way off the jet "I can't wait to sleep in my own bed."

Aaron chuckled, 'You and me both. I just hope our daughter hasn't wrecked the house while we were gone.'

Emily shot him a look, 'Our daughter is a responsible young lady. I'm sure she's been just fine without us.'

Say8ng goodbye to the rest of thw team they got into their car and drove home, but as they walked through the front door of their home.

They were met with a sight that made both of their hearts sink. In the living room, their 16-year-old daughter, Y/N, was cuddled up on the couch with a boy.

Aaron's eyes narrowed in an instant, and Emily could feel his protective instincts on high alert. The couple slowly made their way into the room, trying not to disturb the teenagers who were watching a movie.

As they got closer, they could see that the boy was not just any boy. It was David, a troublemaker from Y/N's school who they had explicitly told her to stay away from.

The teens where cuddled under a blanket, infront of them on thr coffee table were snacks and drinks, playing on the TV was (Favourite movie) Y/N never watches her favourite movie with just anyone.

The black haired woman looks at her husband and could reqd his mind, "Aaron" Emily whispered, trying to calm him down. 'Let's just talk to her." She took his hand in hers and held it.

This made the man relax slightly but a murderous look still on his face.

But before they could say anything, the movie ended and David stood up to leave, Y/N gave him a smile and stood up to hug and kiss him goodbye and sat back down on the sofa, neither teen had seen the two adults in the doorway.

The boy had a love sick grin on his face As he walked towards the door, Aaron stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

"What are you doing here?" Aaron's voice was low and menacing.

David, who previously exuded confidence, now looked like a deer caught in headlights. He mumbled something incoherent and quickly scrambled out of the house.

Emily took a deep breath and turned to her daughter, who was now standing, she had jumped up from the sofa when she hear heard her dad shout, she looked scared and guilty.

Emily crossed her arms and looked at her daughte "What were you thinking, Y/N?" She said, trying to keep her voice calm.

Y/N nervously played with her hands, not looling up at her parents and thwir disapointed look, "I'm sorry" Y/N replied, tears welling up in her eyes.

"I just really like him, and I knew you wouldn't approve" she sais tears running down her face.

Aaron let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "That doesn't change the fact that we specifically forbid you from seeing him. He's not a good influence, and you know that"

Y/N shook her head, surprising her parents. "But he's not! He's actually really sweet and not at all like he appears! You always told me not to judge people and here you are doing it!" The teen yells.

She collapses onto the sofa her head in her arms. The adults looked at each other before at their cryjng daughter, they had judged the boy by appearences like she said.

Emily sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry Honey, you arw right we did judge him but appearance, but it still doesn't make if okay for you to sneak boys inside" she explains to the girl gently.

"Really" Y/N sniffled, wiping at her tears. Aaron knelt in front of her and took her hands in his. "We love you, Y/N. We just want what's best for you" he says gently to the girl.

Y/N nodded, "I promise, he isn't all that bad, just meet him yourself and you'll see!" She insisted.

The two look at each other then back down at their daughter. She does have a point they don't know anything about the boy.

Aaron sighed at the look his wife gave him. "Okay, we will get to know him, but if he hurts you in anyway tell him I've got a gun and knkw how to use it" Says Aaron a not happy smile on his face.

This made the girl laugh, Emily shakes her head at her husband. The couple hugged their daughter and assured her that she was forgiven.

As they talked and cuddled on the couch, Aaron couldn't help but feel grateful for his daughter's honesty and decided to trust her.

'We're going to have to keep a closer eye on her,' Emily said, sipping her tea. 'She's still young, and we can't afford to let her make mistakes like this.'

Aaron nodded, 'I know. It's just hard to believe that our little girl is already sneaking boys into her room.'

Emily chuckled, 'We were teenagers once too, Aaron. We can't expect her to be perfect. We just have to guide her and hope that she learns from her mistakes.'

As they sat in comfortable silence, both agents were reminded of the challenges of being parents to a teenager. But they also knew that they were a strong team and would do anything to protect their daughter, even if it meant going into protective dad mode every now and then.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot, sorry for thr wait on this request. As usual sorry for grammar and Spelling mistakes.

Requests are open!

Word count : 1133

[flamingpudding]

Sorry but I have returned with a part 3 of Klarion is Dan

So Danny is still having you know conversations with the entire RedRobin Young Justice team

When Tim sneaks away to go talk to the Justice League outside he's holding a few kryptonite cookies in his pockets then starts explaining to the Main Justice League on how yeah Klarion bought our trust with gifts so we can pretend to be his friend so he could make his mom happy Klarion's Mom he's is the nice creepy person I have ever meet so can y'all just got to play along

Clues the main Justice League playing along with Klarion being their sidekicks friend after a while Danny finds a way to pull up his scrapbook too also Danny and Clark have started speaking country to each other it's hilarious amazing

Batman in the end like a party pooper reveal that is Klarion is one of the enemy of the Young Justice it makes Young Justice along with Klarion sad for two different reasons for the Young Justice because Klarion's mom is really cool and Klarion cuz he feels like he is disappointing his mom

Danny after a while had a feeling that Klarion made friends like himself back when he was a teenager

A bit late but I finally had the time to write this down, without work stress or a migraine / headache torturing my brain! Hope i didn't make you wait to long! Either way I love this, sooo lets go! Part 3! Here we come!

Also thanks so much for the ask! This was inspiring since I have been struggling with writing the past weeks.

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

Danny was really enjoying his time an conversations with the children. He liked them, even if one of them was a speedster. And he could see that they were good for Dan, now Klarion. Danny had always been worried about his time clone / son. Klarion had no longer been as connected to Sam and Tucker as Danny was. Sure Jazz, Ellie and him, as well as Vlad had been there for him. But Danny knew himself and through that he also knew Dan in a way only Vlad could understand. They had been worried. But when Dan got deaged and choose to go by Klarion Danny's worries had become lighter. Especially when Klarion started to tell stories from the Dimension he had chosen to live in when he wasn't at home. One that was unlike their own home dimension but still similar enough so he wouldn't have troubles adjusting.

Danny smiled like any proud mother would as he watched the four heroes interact with his son. He could see it, Klarion had recreated friendships for himself outside of who he used to be in a different timeline. That alone lifted so many of Danny's worries for the boy. A chuckle escaped him as he once again watched Klarion snatch a green glowing cookie from Red Robin, glaring daggers before he jumped across the table in an attempt to tackle Impulse who was now also reaching for the green cookies. The speedster as expected easily dodged him.

He knew something was going on. Klarion has created a barrier right as Impulse had returned earlier from his 'bathroom break' and he could feel presence outside of his son's front door. One of them feeling funnily similar to one of many the soul contracts that had been laying on his desk for months now, ignored on purpose. But Danny choose to ignore it for the moment. If the kids were up to something than he was the least adult to stop them. So instead he when he saw his boy so distracted, Danny smiled towards Wonder Girl, reaching into a quickly opened portal next to him. "So about the picture you wanted to see earlier."

Danny smiled mischievously like any parent would at a chance to embarrass their child. But also noticing how Red Robin used the chance of Klarion chasing after Impulse and the Kryptonite Cookies in his hands to stuff a couple of the green cookies into his own pockets as well as one into his mouth. Danny suppressed a laugh, as he kept conversation with Wonder Girl flowing.

Superboy was right by Red Robins side as the boy pounded his fist against his own chest in surprise, but also refused to spit the cookie out. Once he swallowed the kid stuck out his tongue a look of wonder. "Have you ever tasted something that felt like sugar coated in love and care sprinkled with calming emotions but had a weird but not bad after taste of sewer water?! I will never be able to look at the Lazarus Pits the same anymore!" the caped teenage hero whined towards his Kryptonian friend and Danny couldn't help it any longer as he burst out laughing.

"That's a Description I have never heard before! Sam likes to say their taste like actual Rainbow puke and Tucker is still trying to convince me that they taste like he was dared to lick a motherboard but one was coated in the finest meats!" Klarion instantly froze in his chase after Impulse and pointed glaring at Red Robin as both Wonder Girl and Impulse now appeared very tempted to actually try the Kryptonite cookies too. "You didn't!"

"I did." Red Robin grinned fearless, the way Tucker used to when he had hacked into the GIWs servers when they were kids.

"DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH?!" Red Robin yelped as Klarion jumped at him over the couch table to wrestle with the other boy as if to make him spit out any green glowing cookie reminds that could be there. "You mortals are idiots!"

Danny blinked and laughed as a little Chaos (Ha! His sons favorite past time) broke out with Wonder Girl, Superboy and Impulse trying to help Red Robin against Klarion only for them to get pulled into the little wrestling match too. With Klarion occupied with the other three as well as trying to stop Impulse from also shoving a green glowing cookie into his mouth he noticed from the corner of his eyes how Red Robin snuck away.

Batman looked ready to strangle John Constantine as he glared at the Justice League Dark member currently working on removing the barrier. This was taking to long in his opinion. Their kids were in there with a highly dangerous being and one of their enemies. This wasn't a situation to take lightly. He growled and Superman patted his shoulder trying to calm him down.

"We will get in there Batman. Just calm down for now. I am sure they are doing all they can to remove the barrier." The Kryptonian said in a calming tone sharing a look with Wonder Woman and the Flash, who by now had rounded the apartment three times to see if there was a possible entry way not covered by a barrier. Batman only grunted again as the door to the appartement suddenly opened, their heads snapped instantly towards it to see Red Robin standing behind the barrier.

"Red Robin Report!" Batman instantly snapped marching forward but frowned as the barrier was blocking him from reaching the teen.

"Klarion's mother is a multidimensional being under the impression that Klarion is working with the Heroes in this impression and not against them. He is also known as the Ghost King ruler of the Infinite Reams. I am sure you are already updated on what the Infinite Realms are." The teen stated in a reporting tone the adult heroes were familiar with. "So far The Ghost King has not shown any hostility towards us or our dimension unprompted. He is rather nice and a good parent by all means. To not disappoint his mother Klarion abducted us so we could pretend to be his friends, in other words Klarion is in need of our help to keep his mother under the belief that he is working and friends with us."

Batman nodded, letting the information sink in. "Anything else?"

"Well, I would suggest to not become hostile ourselves and to play along for the time being." Red Robin offered his solution hoping that with his report their mentors were more willing to play along than with the way Impulse probably slammed the door in their faces. For one, they would get to have a longer time of a break and two, as long as they don't piss off Klarions mom they won't have to face an eldritch being probably ready to tear them appear to protect his child.

"You believe that to be the best course of action? What about the others?" Superman asked instead and the teens head turned a little to look at the Kryptonian. "We are all in agreement. We are also additionally in a position with this to fish for more information about Klarion."

He could see their mentors thinking as they were exchanging looks weighing the pros and cons of his suggestion.

"Constantine? You said that the Ghost King is a dangerous being that could destroy our dimension, correct?" Wonder Woman spoke up turning towards the magician.

"A Bloody fucking Tyrann that can rip us all a new one, mate." the Brite muttered annoyed with the situation.

"Then I guess keeping the Ghost King happy by humouring Klarion should be the best and most peaceful option we have at the moment." Flash added crossing his arms as he looked at the other JL members as they came to a silent agreement.

Hocked, Lined and Sinker. Red Robin thought for a brief moment with relief as the adults agreed to his suggestion. "That means no using spells behind our backs against the Ghost King too." The teen hero added though as he narrowed his eyes under his mask on John Constantine that was cursing under his breath but nodded.

"Great then I can tell Klarion-"

"Red Robin what are you doing out here?" Batman stiffened as white gloved hands rested on the teen hero's shoulders and they saw a white haired man, wearing a royal cape and a floating crown on his head, appearing by the door behind the teen.

"Oh I was just greeting our mentors, they came to check on us." Red Robin lied easily, not even flinching as the man had appeared out of seemingly nowhere. Batman had narrowed his eyes as he exchanged looks with Superman. They hadn't even noticed the man's approach.

"I see, please come in instead of standing out here." John Constantin gabbed as with the flick of his finger the man removed the magic barrier as if it was nothing and they heard a loud whine from inside the apartment of. "MOM IT FEELS WEIRD WHEN YOU DO THAT!"

"Sorry Klarion, baby!"

At that moment the adults realized that the man before them was the Ghost King.

The man lead them inside introducing himself as Danny as he guided Red Robin by his shoulders back to the couch to join the other teens again. The adult heroes where greeted by the image of Wonder Girl sitting on Impulse who was monopolising a photo book and Klarion being lifted into the air lion king style by Superboy flailing around. The teens and mentors blinked at each other several times before the teens continued like they weren't there, Red Robin joining them wanting in on getting to see the photo book that apparently contained 'baby' photos of Klarion.

"How about we leave the kids to themselves and have some coffee and cake by the dinner table?" The Ghost King, Danny, suggested and the adults mutely followed. They blinked as Danny opened a portal, Batman grunted as seeing similarities to something else in it, and reached into it. Danny heard his sisters distinctive "HEY!" Through it when he pulled out a cake from it to place on the table. The heroes couldn't help but sweat dropped, the cake was clearly not finished, it was only half way coated in cream and decorated.

"It's nice to meet the mentors of the friends my boy made in this dimension." Danny started to make small talk serving them coffee and each of them a slice of cake. "It's also nice to finally meet the guy that has sold his soul into so many pieces that I have an entire stack of paper work on my desk."

Constantine flinched, as he refused to make eye contact with the Ghost King who only chuckled. "Relax, I don't care about all these contracts. Most of them were even made before I took over as the King and the previous Ghost King... well lets just say he slept through all of his paperwork."

"Wait previous King?" The magician looked up now. "Mate are you telling me you aren't the bloody fucking Tyrann Ghost King?"

They watched as Danny rubbed his neck embarrassed. "Oh looks like the news didn't get to your Dimension yet, yea I dethroned that guy on accident and took over once I became an adult. Pops did say that it might take some time for all Dimensions to get updated on these kinda news..."

The four heroes looked stunned as they heard the Brite groan loudly thumping his head against the table muttering a "I need a whiskey."

"Oh its also nice to sort of meet my... Cousin or Niece from this Dimension whatever you would prefer more." Danny said to change the subject, looking towards Wonder Woman who blinked at him. "Cousin or Niece?"

"Yes I was Ghost Adopted by Clockwork, also known as Cronus, and Pandora. They speak a lot of praises about you, well every version of you." Danny smiled. There was an awkward moment of silence that Flash broke looking stunned at Wonder Woman. "You never told us you were related to the literal King of all Dimensions!"

"I didn't know!" / "Not all Dimensions."

Both Wonder Woman and Danny spoke at the same time. This finally seemed to break the eyes among the adults as most of them started to chat idly while the teens were fighting over a photo book in the back ground. Well all but one Batman sat among them listening to the other Heroes talk with the Ghost King, grunting every now and then to signal that he was listening. His eye twitch a little as both Superman and Danny suddenly started to talk in a weirdly with niceties filled way of talking.

Of course everything good and nice couldn't last forever and when a triumphant shout in the background from Red Robin resounded who was holding up the photo book with Klarion pinned to the ground by Impulse and Superboy, Batman had to be the one to finally put his foot in his mouth causing everyone to freeze. The bite of cake Superman was about to eat dropped back onto the plate and resounded like a pin needle dropping by the silence caused by one simple, in Batman's mind, question.

"As his mother, are you aware of your son's villainous actions against us heroes?"

A dramatic "No!" Resounded from the teens mostly caused by Impulse dramatically falling to his knees in a pleading motion towards the adults. Klarion on the other hand looked like his entire world was just shattered as he sat up on the ground from his previously pinned position, his eyes glued to his mother. Both Wonder Woman and Superman eyes looked to and fro between Batman and the Ghost King with worry while Flash, apparently decided to get himself another slice of cake as quick as possible before the Ghost King would inevitably kick them all out because of Batman.

Danny stared at the dark knight for a long moment not reacting until he let out a sigh. "Figured as much."

There was another kind of silence, a stunned one, as they all blinked at the Ghost King who was starting to chuckle a little at the faces they were making.

"Mom?"

"Oh please Klarion." Danny waved his son off. "We both know that neither you nor I ever made friends the normal way. Of course you would make friends by being a little shit, just like I did with all my rogues when I was a teen and are now part of the council. It was unavaidable for you to do the same. Ancients even Vlad made friends like this or did you forget how many times he tried to kill my dad, Jack?"

There was silence for a third time, this time it got broken my Wonder Girl bumping her shoulder into Klarions.

"What kind of crazy family do you have?!"

"You have no idea.... you haven't even met my older sister yet...."

[flowerandblood]

The Prince and The Fox

[ modern! • Aemond x friend! • female ]

[ warnings: sexual abuse, violence, trauma, panic attack ]

[ description: After the events of her childhood, despite her best efforts, her neighbor and the younger brother of her friend Helaena, Aemond, does not want to know her. This state lasts until a house party organized by his older brother, Aegon, during which an incident occurs that will change their relationship forever. Slow burn, angst, toxic ex-Alys, rough Aemond. This is several anon requests combined into one fic. ]

WARNING: The main plot between the characters takes place in high school. Yes, in high school. The belief that teenagers wait with an intimacy when they are in love in high school is ridiculous to me. Aemond and the character here are the same age. Don't ask me how old they are, in my country you are of the age of consent in your first year of high school and an adult in the last year of high school, so if it is more convenient for you, think about it that way and decide for yourself. In this story, I am not following the trail that they are magically friends right away, but how they become friends and what that even means. I'm writing this fic to give the perspective of young, lost people, not adult women who want to see exactly themselves in everything they read. If that's all you expect, this isn't the fic for you.

I don't want whining about this in my comments or asks. I will delete these and block you. You have been warned.

Aemond + Evans Series Moodboard

This is my first story that has its own playlist, but yes! Get in the mood! Story Music Playlist. Song used in this chapter: Feuer Frei! (Rammstein)

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She wasn't sure how they became friends. Before she met him she played often with Helaena, they lived in the neighbourhood, and there wasn't much of an age difference between them. They often visited each other to play with their dolls, while her brothers existed for her somewhere in the back, busy with their serious, boyish affairs unavailable to girls.

One day when their mother called Helaena home she was sitting on a blanket on the grass in their garden, pretending that her teddy rabbit had just been drinking tea from her pink plastic cup, when their whole elaborately choreographed scene was destroyed by a dog bumping into her and licking her.

"Vhagar! No! Bad dog!" She heard the growl of a young boy, running up to them and grabbing his happy, shiny labrador with big eyes, who just licked her face, panting loudly, pulling her by the collar, trying to drag her away.

She giggled, wiping her face, and it was only when she looked at him that she noticed a large white bandage on the left side of his face, covering his entire eye and part of his cheek, taped up with plasters. She blinked, curious, and cocked her head.

"What happened to you?" She asked lightly, and he threw her an angry, murderous look, tightening his lips and furrowing his brow.

"Fuck off." He hissed, and she turned all red, close to tears, devastated that he had used such ugly, vulgar words towards her that her parents had forbidden her to use, shouting at him that he wasn't allowed to talk like that, that she didn't like him and for him to go away.

This is exactly what he did, dragging his dog behind him with difficulty, and she took her rabbit and ran to her house across the street, no longer waiting for Helaena to return, distraught.

Her father tried hard to get anything out of her, but he understood little of her loud sobbing and babbling, she could see nothing through her tears, she stood and stammered out mere fragments of sentences from which her parent had by some miracle put together a whole. Her father sighed heavily, running his hand over his face.

"Listen. Helaena's brother, I think his name is Aemond, had a very serious accident. I was told about it by his mother when I met her in the supermarket recently, the whole family is going through a lot. He will have to wear an artificial eye and will be left with a big scar. He feels very bad about it and that is why he is behaving like this. Your question was very tactless." He said finally.

She felt a squeeze in her heart and burst out sobbing even louder, this time because she had offended him, that surely this boy now hated her when she wanted everyone to like her.

"− I didn't − after all − uh − I didn't mean to − I just −" She mumbled in despair, not knowing herself what she wanted to say, breathing hard, almost choking from her sobs, her face all red, she was hot with emotion.

"Come here." Her father said to her, so she walked towards him. He embraced her and stroked her head, saying that she should ask her mother to help her bake cakes for him and bring them to him, wishing him a speedy recovery and apologising so they would both feel better.

She decided that this was indeed a good idea and did exactly that.

The next day she knocked on their front door standing with a box of cakes and was opened by their mother, a beautiful, long-haired woman with a warm smile, she was wearing a thick green jumper.

"Good morning, dear, Helaena is just in ballet class." She said to her in a soft, calm voice, and she shook her head.

"No, ma'am, I've come to see Aemond, I've baked cakes for him and I want to wish him quick recovery." She recited with difficulty what her mother had told her to say, hoping she hadn't forgotten anything, waiting with a pounding heart for a response.

The woman smiled broadly with some kind of gratitude and called out loudly to her son asking him to come downstairs, saying he had a visitor.

Her son came down reluctantly, furrowing his brow, having no idea who might want to see him and when he spotted her he immediately pressed his lips together, furious.

He approached his mother, looking at her distrustfully, and she swallowed loudly feeling a tightening in her throat and tears of shame gathering in her eyes again.

"I'm so sorry for asking you about it at the time, in the sense of what happened to you and that I upset you and that you were sad and that I yelled at you afterwards because I was sad too and − and −" She mused, forgetting for a moment what she was getting at in that sentence, swallowing her saliva loudly and suddenly remembering. "− and − and I brought you cakes that I baked with the help of my mother to wish you a speedy recovery."

She said quickly and held out a cardboard box tied with a ribbon in front of her. Aemond looked uncertainly at his mother, who nodded at him to accept the gift. He did not look at her as he reached out for the package and murmured under his breath, nodding. His mother sighed quietly.

"What should you say now?" She asked him expectantly, and he pressed his lower lip together, looking somewhere sideways, discouraged.

"Thank you." He muttered, turned and headed up the stairs.

"Goodbye." She said quickly, turning and running towards her house, feeling relieved that now she had put things right and now he would surely like her a lot.

She was wrong.

When she came to their house to see Helaena, he immediately locked himself in his room. When they passed each other at primary school he did not respond to her greeting by pretending not to see her even though they were neighbours.

When their parents met each other in the supermarket and started talking to each other, he would approach the shelves and pretend to look at some products, doing everything he could not to talk to her.

He never spoke to her in a bad way again, never shouted at her again, but simply pretended that she didn't exist.

Everything changed when they went to high school and it turned out they would be in the same class. They would then get on and off at the same bus stop, but instead of talking to her he preferred to put his earphones in his ears and browse through the apps on his phone, pretending not to see her.

She tried to talk to him, but he shunned her, treating her like air. She had the painful feeling that from that moment, from the day she asked him the wrong question, she was already crossed out as a person in his eyes.

And then their literary history teacher gave them a homework exercise to do in pairs. Assigning a person to each, when he looked at her he waved his hand as if realising something.

"Ah, Evans, you and Targaryen live nearby, it will be easier for you to work. Next couple −" He said, and she froze, looking at him over her shoulder, his eye wide open, pointed in her direction, he was playing with his pen between his fingers, his lips clenched into a thin line.

He was furious.

She swallowed loudly feeling a tightness in her throat and turned back towards the board, feeling only the loud pounding of her heart.

She ran after him off the bus, seeing him walking towards his house with his backpack thrown over one shoulder, the hood of his dark sweatshirt pulled over his head, earphones in his ears. She grabbed his sleeve to make him stop, and he flinched and looked back, surprised.

"Wait, can we talk?" She asked, breathing fast, and he furrowed his brow, taking the earpiece out of his ear, she could hear some loud heavy metal music coming from it and recognized the song Feuer Frei! by Rammstein.

"What?"

She blinked, understanding that he hadn't heard completely what she'd said. She grunted quietly, letting him go, looking at him expectantly.

"I asked if we could talk."

He looked ahead, letting the air out loudly through his nose with impatience, pulling the other earpiece from his ear, looking everywhere but at her. She guessed he wouldn't say anything, so she started quickly, not wanting to irritate him unnecessarily.

"I know you don't like me and I promise not to annoy you with anything. Let's just go to your place or mine, do this homework and get it over with. Okay?" She asked in a trembling voice and he licked his lips, indecision and frustration in his eyes, something was going on in his mind that she didn't understand completely.

He snorted, shrugging his shoulders and nodded at her.

"Come."

They entered his house greeted by the smell of dinner just being cooked. Their mother welcomed her presence in the company of her son with joy and surprise.

"Will you eat something? The meatballs in sauce are warm and ready." She said warmly, hoping they would stay down, guessing that they were both hungry after many hours of lessons.

She wished he would agree, feeling a burbling in her stomach.

"No. We're going to go do our homework." He said in a low, slightly hoarse voice. He pulled off his shoes, slipped the hood off his head and walked up the stairs without looking at her.

He walked into his room, throwing the clothes and books lying on the floor into the wardrobe, clearly wanting to do a quick tidy up, his whole walls covered with posters of various bands, Rammstein, Electric Light Orchestra, Deep Purple, Guns N' Roses, Led Zeppelin, his bookshelves heaving with books.

"Sit." He said lowly, pointing to the chair he'd set up by his desk, himself sitting down in a comfortable high-backed leather player's chair, spreading out on it comfortably.

She walked over to him, pulling her pastel soft backpack off her back, pulling out her notebook and the book they had just reviewed.

The Little Prince.

She felt that he was looking at her expectantly, so she opened her notebook in which she had written down the exact assignment the teacher had given them. She decided to read it aloud so they could reflect on it together.

"The Little Prince is a metaphorical story. Talk together about a few scenes from the book that moved you most and compare your thoughts, writing down similarities and differences. Analyse at least two scenes in this way."

She glanced at him, tightening her lips, feeling her heart pounding hard. For some reason she was terrified, he was sitting next to her, resting his elbows on his desk, leaning forward, seeming even bigger and taller to her than usual.

She felt strange thinking that he smelled nice, that he used some ordinary, cheap men's perfume.

He sniffed with his nose, not even looking at her, taking a pen in his hand.

"Have you read this book?" She asked, wanting to make sure he knew what they were going to talk about. He threw her a look like he thought she was an idiot.

"Do you have any more stupid questions, or can we get started?" He asked lowly, and she pressed her lips together, humiliated, feeling for some reason that she wanted to cry.

She felt like asking why he couldn't forgive her at last, but decided it was pointless, that he obviously didn't like her because he had such a whim.

She shook her head and he hummed, taking her copy of The Little Prince in his hand and began looking through it.

"Which scene do you want to talk about?" He asked coldly, dispassionately, and she swallowed loudly.

"About the Little Prince and the Fox." She said quietly, feeling him give her a brief glance.

He grunted under his breath, apparently agreeing with her choice, waiting for her elaboration on the matter. She swallowed with difficulty, licking her lips.

"What moved me most was how true this scene is. That the greatest enemy of friendship, or any close relationship, is haste. That only by respecting someone's barriers, only by approaching someone slowly and with understanding, can you really look at them from a distance.

By taming someone, by making that person grow attached to you, you take partial responsibility for that person's feelings, for making them trust you enough to believe that you won't intentionally hurt them with your behaviour. Until we really get to know someone we are just a crowd of people passing each other on the street."

She said in a trembling voice, feeling for some reason tears under her eyelids and a tightness in her throat, her eyebrows arched in pain, her lower lip began to tremble, she played with the material of her white daisy dress in a nervous gesture.

She felt him watching her, an awkward silence fell between them.

She couldn't look at him.

She thought he was going to say something cruel, that he was going to tell her to stop wailing, but he said nothing. After a while he spoke up.

"I see this scene differently. They're both moving towards each other because they're determined to do so. They are both going their separate ways. There is a balance. The Little Prince doesn't force the Fox to approach him, just as the Fox doesn't force the Little Prince to approach him. They do it of their own free will. They tame themselves because that's the decision they made. You can't tame someone who doesn't want it." He said lowly, and she looked up at him feeling tears begin to run down her face.

Was he talking about himself?

Was she the Fox who wanted to tame him even though he didn't want it?

"I'm sorry." It burst out of her chest before she had time to think about what she was doing.

He pressed his lips together and swallowed loudly, clenching his hands lying on the desk into fists, his nostrils moving restlessly in accelerated breathing.

She covered her face with her hand, embarrassed that she just couldn't stop crying, feeling pain in her heart and feeling sorry for herself that she just wasn't able to give him a break, that she kept seeking his attention and interest when he just clearly wanted her to leave him alone.

She couldn't bear the thought that she wasn't liked by every man she knew.

She felt ashamed at the thought that she had been so selfish.

"I can't stand that you don't want to talk to me. That you don't like me, that you pretend not to see me. I think it's driving me crazy and you're right to think that I'm an attention-seeking girl. I'm ashamed and I apologise to you for that because it's not your problem. I promise I'll stop." She said between laboured breaths, shrugging her shoulders, lowering her gaze.

He just looked at her.

"You exaggerate everything too much. You care too much." He said finally, his voice calmer as was his gaze.

She saw him fidgeting involuntarily with his fingers in a nervous gesture, the cuticles around his fingernails peeled and red, they must have caused him pain, but he plucked them nonetheless.

"Stop." She whispered and placed her hand over his, his fingers froze in mid-motion. She heard him swallow loudly, completely taken aback, his healthy eye open wide, his whole body concentrated. She stroked his palms with her thumb, and he didn't push her away.

"I'll leave you alone." She said softly and took her hand away, not believing she had dared to do so, and he just nodded and grunted, looking in her book for the quote he wanted to talk about.

They wrote down silently next to each other what they had talked about, and when they had finished she took her books, packed up and left without saying goodbye to him.

She no longer sought his gaze when he stood next to her at the bus stop, when he sat behind her in class, when she passed him in the school corridor. She realised that she had been conceited and vain in thinking that she would make him like her. She thought there was nothing wrong with someone not fancying her, not wanting to talk to her.

She had to get over it.

She attended extra volleyball classes, loved this sport and had good results at inter-school competitions. The captain of the men's team was Cregan Stark, a tall, well-built, funny black-haired boy who caught her eye from the start.

He would occasionally wink at her from afar seeing her gaze, and she would blush, lowering her eyes.

They were good mates, chatting sometimes during breaks and laughing. Cregan often approached her between classes, throwing in any topic, sometimes accompanied by his colleagues who were also fond of her. She felt butterflies in her stomach when he invited her to a house party that Aegon was organising.

She knew that Aemond would certainly be home at that time, but she figured that he would lock himself in his room and not go downstairs to them anyway, so she readily agreed, glad to see Helaena there as well.

She dressed in her favourite suede black dress reaching mid-thigh with a boat neckline, not revealing her breasts but showing her shoulders, and she wore her favourite shiny black boots. She let her hair down, deciding that she looked the prettiest this way, and literally ran out of the house when she heard a knock on the door.

She and Cregan hugged each other as if they were friends and moved arm-in-arm across the street hearing the loud music in the distance. When they entered she saw a crowd of people, most were her friends from the estate, so she greeted everyone around her, one of the guests handed her a cup with probably the cheapest wine possible.

She took a sip, glancing at Cregan and he winked at her as he always did, this time embracing her, pulling her close.

She felt the heat in her lower abdomen and the flush in her cheeks.

For most of the time they sat together on the couch, talking about everything and nothing, she saw no one around him but him, looking into his big dark eyes as if enchanted. She swallowed loudly when she felt his hand on her thigh, trailing up and down, and pressed her lips together, unsure if she liked it or not.

However, she didn't reject his hand, not wanting to offend him, some part of her happy that he reciprocated her interest, that he liked her too, that he found her attractive too.

"Shall we go to the garden?" He asked loud enough for her to hear him, and she nodded with a smile, feeling her own heart beating fast, happy that he wanted to be alone with her.

They walked out into the garden through the kitchen, through a back entrance she knew very well, on the way she felt him grasp her hand in his, she had a feeling her heart would leap out of her chest. They sat down on the terrace bench, he embraced her and hugged her close, and she snuggled into his chest.

She wondered with a blush on her cheeks if he would want to kiss her.

She swallowed loudly and a shudder went through her as, from her shoulder, his hand slowly began to move up to her neck, slipped under the material of her dress and touched her bare breast. She squeezed his wrist, terrified.

"N-no." She mumbled, but instead of stopping, he tightened his fingers on her flesh.

"No, stop." She said terrified, aggressively pulling at his hand, feeling tears in her eyes, cold sweat on the back of her neck, her whole body screaming for him to let her go, wanting to run away, but he wouldn't release her.

"Didn't you hear?" She heard a firm, low voice beside her, and Cregan jumped away from her suddenly, rising from the bench.

Aemond stared at him with his lips tightened, an expression of disgust on his face, his healthy eye wide open, his hands clenched into fists.

"Don't you fucking understand what 'no' means?" He asked him again, louder this time, furious.

She was just sitting and shaking, breathing hard, looking down at her shoes, tear after tear running down her cheeks, she was unable to move or get anything out.

Cregan grunted back.

"Fuck off." He growled, wanting to get past him, but Aemond grabbed him by his shirt and pressed him against the door frame with all his strength.

She stood up quickly, terrified, and covered her mouth when Cregan hit him on the forehead with his head and he took a few steps backwards, Aemond's fist hit his face in return, Cregan half-curled and coughed. They moved away from each other, panting heavily.

"Fucking bastard." He hissed, holding his red cheek with his hand and walked back out into his house, loud music, screams, laughter and conversations of people inside around them.

She sat down on the ground, feeling her whole body shaking, clenching her eyes shut, a strange, high-pitched sound and a sob came from her throat as it finally dawned on her mind what had actually happened.

That he touched her in a way that made her uncomfortable and made her unable to breathe, that she had asked him to stop and he hadn't, how bad it made her feel, how frightening and humiliating it was.

She felt so dirty.

She wasn't sure if what came out of her mouth could be called crying, she felt like she was whimpering and howling, holding her hand to her mouth as if trying to shield herself from what was happening, to no avail.

She heard the rustling of the grass beneath his feet, she felt the gentle touch of his large, warm hand on her back, casual, tender, friendly, comforting.

She snuggled into his black sweatshirt and cried out loud, disappointed, distraught and devastated that she had trusted him, that she had believed him and he did something like this to her.

Why?

Was it because she didn't push him away when he touched her thigh, that she went out with him alone?

Did he think that was what she wanted?

"Shall I go and find Helaena?" He asked in a trembling voice clearly not knowing what to do, how to help her, horrified by what he had seen and her condition. She shook her head quickly, feeling ashamed, she didn't want anyone to know.

She heard him swallow loudly.

"If you want I'll go with you to his parents tomorrow. I'll tell them what I saw. He's been groping you all evening." He said low with some kind of tension, and she froze, drawing in the air loudly at the thought that he must have come downstairs, that he must have seen them as they sat on the sofa, watched them.

Follow them out.

She wondered if he had done it to make sure he wouldn't do anything to her against her will.

It was her fault.

She did not push him away when he touched her thigh.

She went off with him herself.

"No. They won't believe me. He'll say I wanted it myself." She mumbled in a trembling, weak voice between one shattered breath and another.

She could feel his heart pounding hard, that he was nervous too, that he didn't know what he should do. He put his arm around her in a friendly manner, feeling subconsciously that she needed it, that she was terrified.

They both stood up quickly when they heard some girls come out for a cigarette. They raised their eyebrows, looking at them with amusement, one of them waved at them.

"Hey, Cyclops, do you have a girlfriend now?" She asked, the second girl laughed out loud, the third looked at the others disapprovingly, lowering her gaze, pretending she hadn't heard this.

"Fuck off, you stupid bitch!" She growled at her so loudly and with such fury that the girl froze, it seemed to her that she had never called anyone that out loud before in her life.

In a frenzy of desperation, anger and humiliation, she pulled her boots off her feet and, one by one, started throwing them at them until all three of them fled inside the house screaming that she was insane.

"Fuck, calm down! Jesus." He called out to her in shock, grabbing her by her arm. She raised her eyes at him, breathing loudly, his gaze softening a bit.

"Do you want to go home?" He asked lowly, almost indifferently, and she nodded, feeling that she wanted to cry again at the thought of Cregan's touch on her chest.

His hand tightened on her bare breast, refusing to let her go.

An unpleasant shiver ran through her, she felt like she was going to vomit.

First, though, she had to find her shoes, one of which had ended up in the bushes, the other behind their barbecue, all dirty from the coals. She put them on anyway, she was already indifferent to everything.

He didn't even ask if she wanted him to walk her away.

He just followed her.

On the way out they came across Cregan and his mates smoking a cigarette on the road, some of his friends whistling at them, laughing out loud.

"Are you guys going to fuck?" He called from a distance in amusement, she felt that her whole body was shaking, that she was afraid of them and she thanked God that he had gone with her, that he had not left her alone.

She wondered if this was what he experienced all the time at school.

Humiliation.

He stood with her in front of her door with his hands tucked into his black trousers, his face turned in profile.

She knew she shouldn't do this, but she needed it.

She walked up to him and hugged her face to his sweatshirt, standing in front of him like that. She could feel his warm breath on the top of her head, she knew he was looking at her.

She swallowed loudly as she felt his forehead pressed against her hair, he let out a loud breath, something in his voice that she could call sympathy.

"Try not to think about it. If you change your mind and want to go to his parents, I'll go with you. Hm?" He asked lowly, and she nodded.

"Are you going to keep seeing him?" He asked coolly after a moment, and she shook her head, feeling that it made her sick at the thought.

"Good." He muttered, raising his head. She pulled away from him and looked at him, swallowing loudly.

"Gonna give you my phone number. In case you decide to do it." He added quickly, wanting to make sure she didn't understand his proposal ambiguously. She nodded her head.

He dictated a string of numbers to her, which she typed into her phone and added him to her contacts under the name 'Prince'. He saw this and lifted his gaze to her, but made no comment.

They looked at each other for a moment in silence.

"I'm sorry." He said finally. She nodded her head in understanding.

"Thank you for everything. That you… you know. Have a good night." She said softly, without looking at him anymore, and disappeared behind the front door of her house.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy

[liyawritesss]

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇ, ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʀᴇᴇᴢᴇ

Characters: MCU!Shuri Udaku x!Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 11.8k

Synopsis: It’s your sister’s 25th birthday, and she invited you over for the extravagant birthday bash. However, there’s only one problem. Shuri has never met your family. She also isn’t aware of their past mistreatment of you. So when your parents begin to make jabs at you on what is supposed to be a joyous event, Shuri might have to apologize to your sister for what is to come next.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of verbal + physical abuse, mentions of severe anxiety, a very angry Shuri shuts shit down, shitty parents, dysfunctional family dynamics

A/N: So....this came about after watching a clip of Love & Hip Hop ATL, where in the clip one of the guys on the show was confronting his mother about the mistreatment and neglect he got as a kid and how his mother took all her frustrations out on him when he had nothing to do with what she was going through. That video touched exceptionally close to home so I wanted to writing for such an event but with Shuri, as I think for someone who is quite family oriented (or who appears to be), she would definitely have a few choice words to say to parents like that. Plus, I wanted to provide comfort to those going through similar situations as teenagers and young adults with their own parents. So I hope that this brings comfort to some of you, as it has done to me when writing it.

Song Suggestions: "Naked" & "Everything" by Ella Mai, "Let Me Down Slowly" by Alec Benjamin ft. Alessia Cara, "Let It Go" by James Bay, "Losin' Control" by Russ, "Control" by Zoe Wees, "You're Not Here" by Cynthia Erivo, "You Let Me Down" by Alessia Cara

Tags: @6-noir @playhousedistee @shuririsdefenseattorney @shuriszn @venusdraco @wrendermedone @writingintheshadowsforever @mbakuetshurisprincess @verachii @slytherin-34 @the_lesbian-fangirl @h34rtsformilli @strangefishflapturtle @cuddl3s4shur1 @shuriislut @dejaonline @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @inmyheadimobsessed @aaliyg @cafehyunji @chunkybabygorl @rosielovesfamily @lulu-network @nichole-224 @niyahwrites @lppriceisright @blacksapphhicmaddonna @pantherheart @marsfunzon22

Note: there are some of you that for some reason tumblr won't let me tag, so I apologize in advance.

Sign Up For My Taglist Here!

The closer you were to pulling up to your sister’s home, the harder it was becoming for you to breathe.

It wasn’t like you were ignorant enough to believe you could escape this.  You’d always known, deep down inside, that one day, you’d have to face them again. Yet, here you were, tucked into the smooth tan leather of Shuri’s car, hiding the fact that you were on the verge of an anxiety attack, and your girlfriend to the left of you filled with positive anticipation to meet your family.

Your sister, Alex, was turning twenty-five today. It is a big celebration for your bloodline, and though much of the original purpose of the celebration had been lost due to oral passing, the general belief was that the lucky lady who’d survive to her twenty-fifth birthday was to be guaranteed a long, fulfilling life.

Of course your sister would have a long, fulfilling life. Alex was a woman of greatness. She’d worked hard in school, got into an amazing college, met a handsome guy who she’d married as soon as she landed her first official big-girl job at some law firm in your home city. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that Alex was guaranteed for greatness.

Alex was…perfect.

You didn’t want to go. As much as you knew it would have hurt her to not have her sister at her side for her big day, Alex would’ve understood. You never liked the elaborate, extravagant lifestyle. You were a simple girl with simple pleasures, who led a simple life and wanted nothing more than to live simply.

Though, that seems contradictory, since about a year ago, you found yourself gaining the attention and affections of the very Queen of Wakanda. How you managed that feat, you would never know.

It was Shuri who had found the invitation. She was visiting you during an monthly check up at one of the outreach facilities posted in your town, when she had inevitably seen the pretty invitation sitting on your kitchen island. It was all written in cursive, no doubt the product of your sister’s perfect penmanship, and most of all, it was addressed to you and Shuri.

You’d only told Alex of your relationship after the six month mark. You wanted to be certain that such a relationship would last; though, now that you thought back on it, what good would it have done Shuri to play you? Her intentions and integrity were clear the first day she had introduced herself to you. She’d never given you any reason to not trust her, and yet, you had still doubted her. It was a period of time you regretted most, and yet, Shuri still loved you. And in realizing that she would continue to do so, even after seeing the ugly parts of you, you allowed yourself to truly love her back.

Shuri was ecstatic to go. She wanted to meet your sister in person, having only ever seen each other through video calls and communicated through text. And with Shuri’s pretty brown doe-eyes that had always been a weakness to you, you couldn’t say no.

And now, here you were, gripping the door handle tightly as you released tight breathes, wondering if it would have been beneficial to sit Shuri down and tell her the reason why your eyes showed a glimpse of dread when she’d picked up that invitation.

“Darling?” The Queen’s voice cuts through the cloudiness that fogs your brain, grounding you in a way only her honey-laced voice could do. “Are you alright?”

No, you want to say, turn the car around, take me home. I don’t want to go there-

“Yeah, just a bit tired.”

Shuri looks at you quizzingly. You have not been acting as yourself since the day she’d stopped by your apartment. Since, she’d been trying to pinpoint the cause, but to no avail. Even after a year together, she still found you hard to read sometimes. It was endearing to her, a challenge she greatly accepted as part of the packaged deal that came with your relationship. 

However, she couldn’t deny that this time, things felt…different.

There’s a melodic beeping that comes from the vehicle, and the red flashing on the dash panel alerts Shuri that the car is running out of gas. And not a second later, a familiar voice speaks from the surround-sound speakers:

Panther, the vehicle is reaching low fuel. It would be wise to refuel soon. There is a petrol station approximately ten miles ahead. Fuel here is priced at four ninety-seven per gallon.

“Thank you, Griot,” Shuri hums, turning to you, “we shall stop there. Fill up on gas and get some snacks. You haven’t eaten much today, my love.”

Though you fix your lips to protest Shuri’s ever so keen observation, the way her hand slips over your thigh, her open palm meeting your skin through the large hole in your ripped jeans, it’s almost enough to have you relent. “I did eat; at breakfast.”

“Which was eight hours ago,” Shuri reminds you, “almost nine, once we arrive at your sisters. I’m sure there will still be room for the food if you just have one bag of chips to hold you over.”

You hate how well Shuri knows you. It makes it hard to hide things with her keen perception and observation skills. Though, you suppose those traits all come with the territory of being The Black Panther.

A sigh escapes your lips, and the lack of a reply worries Shuri. Yet, she does not push. Instead, her thumb continues to swipe in soothing strokes along the smooth skin of your thigh as she continues to drive to the designated gas station.

All of five minutes pass until it comes into view. When Shuri parks at one of the gas lanes, she fishes into her pocket for her wallet. From it she produces a black card, and hands it to you. “Fifty should bring it back up,” the Queen says, “and a bag of chips for you should do the same.”

“Shuri, I said I’m fine-”

“Darling.” Shuri’s tone is firm, yet gentle, and leaves no room for argument. So all you can do is press a kiss to her cheek - a practice routine of mundane intimacy that brings you both pleasure - before exiting the car and walking towards the entrance of the gas station.

Shuri sits back in her seat, a sigh pushing past her lips. She’s not quite sure what to make of your behavior.

In the year that the two of you have been dating, never once did you bring up the topic of your family. Shuri didn’t even know you had a sister until six months ago. Alex reminded her much of Nakia in some sense - powerful and self made, and in that regard, she was glad that you had some semblance of family you could reach out to.

Your parents, however, were another story. A story you had well avoided, and as of recently as a few months ago, downright refused to talk about. It became quite clear that it was a touchy subject for you, so Shuri didn’t pry. However, she could not deny that part of her grew…heated, at the unpleasant thoughts that plagued her mind when it came to the reason for the non-existent relationship between you and them.

“Griot.”

“Yes, Panther?”

“What were my beloved’s vitals during the ride?”

A beat passes, as Griot computes.

“(Y/N)’s heart rate had been jumping from one hundred forty-five to one hundred seventy beats per minute. Her grip on the door was strong enough to break a thin glass cup. It appears (Y/N) was on the verge of an anxiety attack, but had been fighting it off for the duration of your journey.”

Shuri curses under her breath, more or less to herself at the information that had been relayed to her. 

“She has been on edge all morning,” Shuri says aloud, “I did not ask, for fear of triggering her, but I cannot allow her to feel threatened.”

Shuri knows your triggers like the back of her hand. She’s learned to speak in a level tone to avoid startlement; she’s learned to make her presence known when entering your space; and most importantly, she reassures you, letting you know each and every day how much she loves you, how much she treasure your existence in her life, and how she vows to hold your heart with the utmost care in the world.

Shuri is the smartest person in the world, and yet, she cannot decipher the reason behind her lover’s heightened emotions. If it weren’t for the fact that she was focused on figuring out why you were like this, and how to calm you down, she’d surely find the thought embarrassing.

“Might I speak freely, Panther?”

A hum rumbles from Shuri’s throat as a sign for the artificial intelligence to continue.

“(Y/N)’s vitals have been heighted since one week ago,” Griot points out, “around the same time she had received the invitation to her sister’s birthday party. It would be safe to assume that these two instances have a correlation with one another.”

  “You are insinuating that Alex’s birthday party is somehow the cause of my love’s anxiety spiking?”

“Perhaps not the party, but rather, who will be there, Panther.”

Silence fills the car as Shuri takes in the information given to her. Though, she doesn’t have much to think on it, as she spots your figure exiting the sticker-covered glass door of the gas station, a black plastic bag in hand, of which she hopes holds the snacks she had requested of you to get for yourself. She exits the car and takes hold of the gas nozzle, opening up the tiny door and unscrewing the protection cap, and slots the nozzle into the car to fill with fuel.

A few moments pass before Shuri returns to the car, having placed the nozzle back in it’s place and secured the gas compartment. Her black card rests on the arm rest, which she slips back into her wallet as the corner of her eyes catches you with something in your hand - something that’s not a bag of chips.

“I thought I told you chips, darling?” Shuri asks as she starts up the car again.

“I got chips!” You respond. “I wanted a Twix, too.”

Your free hand fishes into the black plastic back to produce a bottle of water for Shuri, slotting it into the cup holder.

“What is this?” Shuri asks, gesturing to the water bottle.

“You were thirsty,” You point out.

Shuri indeed was thirsty. She can’t help the smile that paints her lips soon after, taking the water bottle into her hand, unscrewing the cap, and taking a swig of the water.

“Are you sure you’re alright, my love?” Shuri asks once more after setting the water back down, preparing to put the car into motion.

To busy chewing on the cookie-chocolate-caramel treat, you opt for nodding your head, a short ‘mhm’ to accompany it.

As much as Shuri wanted to question further, she knew nothing would come of it. So she slips her hand back onto your thigh, presses down on the gas, and rolls out of the gas station, the conversation with Griot filing back into her mind as she drives down the long strip of highway.

“My parents are gonna come.”

You’d said it the second Shuri had parked into the driveway of your sister’s home. With each second that passed on the way there, your chest kept growing tighter and tighter. You thought that maybe if you focused on Shuri’s touch on you, or her low singing voice when Tems starts to flood the car with her hypnotic, warm and swelling voice, that maybe you would be able to calm down and not worry her. It usually worked, but perhaps because this instance was due to the fact that you would be seeing your parents for the first time in years, what was usually the cure for your attacks did very little to help.

Shuri pauses as the words leave your lips, and for a moment, it looks as if she is cross. And while she has every right to be, you hope that it isn’t at you.

You should have told her before the two of you left, as you thought to do. It plagued your mind when you were in the shower, when you were fixing your hair, when you were choosing your outfit. And Shuri had been in the same apartment with you the entire time. You had ample enough time to tell her and yet…you didn’t. You couldn’t.

You know Shuri. She would try to remain calm and collected for you, to not show her anger, because of course she would be angry either way. The car ride would have been in silence, the air thickening with each mile crossed from one city to the other. But you would know that she was upset. She should be upset now because you just dropped this bomb on her and-

“Beloved,” the Queen mutters to you, bringing you from your thoughts once more, “look at me.”

Your head turns to face Shuri. She’s put the car into park, one arm leaning on the arm rest, the other reaching over to soothe your nerves by caressing your outer thigh. She looks at you with a softness that relieves some of the pressure on your chest stunting your breathing. Her gaze tells you that she is not cross with you.

“Hey,” she says, “I am not upset with you.” And the reassurance helps you unclench the fists your hands have balled into.

She doesn’t speak again until she’s certain that your breathing has evened out, as opposed to the harsh and forced inhale-exhale pattern from before. “Is there…anything I should know?”

You tear your eyes away, but Shuri’s gaze remains firm. Consistency is key, she’s learned, when it comes to you confiding in her. Her eyes are your safe space, you will return to them. And you do, after a short moment, trying to gather your mind together.

“They’re not nice people,” you confess, eyes hesitantly returning to hers, “they’ll try and woo you and shit, but don’t fall for it. They ain’t shit.”

“Okay,” Shuri hums, “and…is there anything I can do? For you?”

“Um,” a shaky breath racks through your throat, as you speak, “they’re not here now. Alex texted me that, so I should be fine, but when they get here…j-just, don’t leave me alone.”

“I will not leave you alone.” Shuri assures. Her hand gathers yours into hers, your palms rendered chilly from cold sweat. “I promise.”

Gathering your hands into hers, Shuri brings them to her lips and presses a kiss to them. She then reaches over to press a kiss to your lips, of which you reciprocate gladly.

“Thank you for talking to me about this,” the Queen commends, “and telling me how to best take care of you. I know it is not easy-”

“I hate it-” you correct, which brings a grin to Shuri’s lips and a chuckle from her throat, because yes, she knows you hate it.

“-but you are doing it, and I am very proud of you for it.”

It’s sincere, Shuri’s praise. It’s still not easy for you to digest it, but you know her love is not transactional, conditional. She means what she says, and you know her love for you is unconditional and unyielding. 

She loves you. 

She is proud of you.

The pressure on your chest becomes lighter.

Upon exiting the car, you’re approached by your sister, Alex, who had seen the two of you pull into the driveway and wanted to be the first person you’d engage with. You’re not shocked when you see her eyes glassy looking - it’s been years since you two last saw each other face to face.

Alex is hesitant when approaching you - she wants to envelop you in the most bone-crushing hug she can muster, because she misses you and it has been so long since she’d held her baby sister. Though all it takes is for you to outstretch your arms to her, and Alex embraces you in the way she had been dreaming of.

“Oh, mama,” Alex breathes as she pulls away to get a better look at you. You notice the youthfulness in her face and the life in her eyes. She looks happy, “look at you. All grown up. My baby sissy is all grown ‘nd shit.”

It’s heartfelt, her words, and they make you smile. Alex turns to look at Shuri, who’s chosen to stand to the side to witness the sisterly reunion without interrupting. “And you have a girlfriend? You have to tell me how this happened.”

“By complete accident,” you say, as Shuri steps up. Her hand presses into the small of your back, encouraging you while she holds the other out to greet Alex officially, “but I guess anything can happen when you spill coffee on someone in the middle of a morning rush.”

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Alex.” Shuri says.

Alex shakes Shuri’s hand, and the Queen notes the hesitance in the older sister's movements. “Well, it’s not every day you meet the queen of a country. Much less, a queen of a country that’s also my sister’s girlfriend.”

“Well, I hope not to bring too much excitement with my titles,” says Shuri, “I am more than alright with being just Shuri.”

She sincerely hoped that she could just remain Shuri. For if a situation arises that she would have to act in the manner of either of her titles - Queen or Black Panther - she could not promise that the birthday celebration would remain a splendor.

An hour passes before either of you know it. You’ve found entertainment amongst the younger cousins who all gawk at your girlfriend, who sits not too far away. Shuri has a cup of punch in hand as she watches you chase the children around the yard, a small smile on her lips. It’s as if you are reliving a part of your childhood you’ve missed, the way you seem so content with the children. It all but warms her heart.

“So,” Alex’s voice interrupts Shuri’s not so discreet admiration of her girlfriend, nearly making the Queen jump, “you and my sister?”

“Ah,” Shuri breathes, looking down into her cup as a rush of heat travels up her dark skin, “me and your sister.”

“I’m not gonna go into the whole interrogation thing, grilling you on if you’re treating her right,” Alex says, “I see how you look at her. If that ain’t the look of someone in love, then I’on know what is.”

Shuri chuckles at that, because she knows that Alex’s observations are true. In fact she has no idea just how correct her observation is.

Shuri leans forward in her seat, elbows propped up on her knees as she finds your figure amidst the mess of kids once again. Her necklace dangles from her neck, the gold contrasting against her black tee that nearly meets the fabric of her ripped blue jeans with her hunched over position.

“(Y/N) is…the ray of sunlight one sees after a long, dark night,” the Queen hums fondly, “and had I known my gods would send me such a woman, I would have prepared myself better.”

Alex smiles warmly. She can tell the strong connection between you and Shuri is pure and unadulterated. It warms her heart beyond comparison.

“Thank you for coming, truly,” Alex says, “I was almost worried she wouldn’t, since our parents would be here and everything.”

And at the mention of them, Shuri finds her jaw tightening just the slightest.

“Your parents?” Shuri is beginning to put two and two together, and she doesn’t like the outcome that is unfolding from her assumptions, however careful they are.

“I…assume she’s told you about them?” Alex implies.

Shuri shakes her head lightly, taking a sip of her semi-forgotten punch. “I find myself piecing the picture together on my own…She does not talk about them.”

“That isn’t a surprise,” Alex says, “given…well, everything.”

Shuri turns her head to look at Alex. Her eyes are firm, inquisitive; Alex’s words have sparked an interest in Shuri.

”She says they aren’t good people. Is that true?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Alex replies, “to the community, their saints. To us they’re just….people.”

Shuri notes the hint of solemness that laces Alex’s voice as she speaks. “They weren’t good to either of us…but they were especially bad to (Y/N).” Alex clarifies. “You know what they say; hurt people, hurt people.”

Not when the person is your child, Shuri thinks, but keeps to herself, taking another sip of her punch. Things are starting to make sense now, and Shuri finds that perhaps she will also have to have you at her side to ground her whenever your parents decide to show up.

“So you mean to tell me you got yourself stuck in a tree, and then got angry because she tried to help you get down?”

“I was not stuck! I was admiring the view.”

“Sure you were…with tears coming down your face.”

“I think this classifies as bullying-”

Shuri had grown quite comfortable as the next hour passed. More of your family had begun to show up, a number of aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews, and cousins wishing Alex a happy birthday as they passed through the foyer of her house and into the backyard. Shuri couldn’t count the amount of gasps she’d heard when their eyes fell upon her, sat comfortably in the outdoor gazebo, her presence obviously a surprise to the many relatives who had come to celebrate the special birthday girl. Much more, the fact that she had you close to her side as she greeted them.

The behavior of your family members irked her. Shuri suspected that Alex had talked to each of the adults to assure that they’d be on their best behavior for the occasion, given the tight smiles and curt greetings between each of them and you. Or perhaps it was because of her own intimidating presence next to you, and the fact that she wasn’t even trying to hide the look in her eyes as she analyzed each adult that seemed to pass through.

“Babe,” you cleared your throat, “stop looking like that, you’re scaring them.”

“Looking like what?”

“Like you’re contemplating murder.”

Would it have been so bad if she was, though?

Shuri sighs as she places the red solo cup she had been nursing for a while onto the table. “Just behave, for Alex-”

“I am behaving for you,” the queen clarifies, “and your sister would say the same.”

Unable to comment any further, you released an exhale through the nose, sinking back into Shuri’s side.

“It’s guilt, y’know.” You try to reason, but Shuri had already considered that route. Perhaps there were a few who did have a guilty conscience. Shuri didn’t find herself caring if that was true or not. “They’re not bad.”

“Beloved-”

“Shuri.”

“-I am merely observing,” she says, “I promise.”

Of course Shuri was only observing. Observing the behavior of each adult family member. How they acted towards you. How very little regard was given to you. How, with the amount of bodies that have accumulated in the backyard, the gazebo area remained relatively desolate, beside the two of you, Alex, and Alex’s black and white spotted cat, who had made a home on the red painted banister.

Sure. Shuri was just observing. Definitely not questioning anything at all. Definitely not formulating words she would say to your parents if they decided to make themselves an issue.

“I’m gonna go get a shot,” you say, before propping yourself up with your hands and lifting from the cushion of the outdoor couch, “you want a refill?”

You take Shuri’s cup before she officially gives you a response. You needed a way out, to move around so that the beating in your chest could quell.

Inside there isn’t much of a party scene - it's practically empty besides a teenage family member fighting their sleep on the couch while watching an infant in the living room. The music from outside is muffled when you enter the house, and you take the time to admire the mahogany walls and deep maroon floors of the home. You could compare it to the childhood home you’ve grown up in, and you think that perhaps this was Alex’s way of healing. Recreating your shared childhood environment in a more peaceful manner.

You find the kitchen quite easily, rounding the kitchen island in pursuit of the adult punch purposefully left inside so that the underaged family members wouldn’t get it confused with the family friendly punch that rested in a big glass bowl on the party table outside. On the counter is an array of liquor choices, from fruit flavored tequila to everyone's favorite, Hennessy. You weren’t a drinker, but this far into the party, you needed some sort of incentive to get you to relax a little bit.

Once you’ve chosen your choice of liquor, you take a red solo cup, pour what you deemed to be a shot's worth, and downed it in one gulp. The burn in your throat definitely woke your senses, of which you were grateful for.

On your way towards the kitchen doorway, Shuri’s refilled solo cup in hand, the sound of familiar voices drifted to your ears from the foyer, and it made you stop dead in your tracks. 

“Happy birthday baby!”

“Happy birthday, babygirl.”

“Oh, look at you, all grown up-”

It took everything in you to not drop the cup in your hand at the sound of your parents making their presence known. You backed into the kitchen again, your back finding a nearby wall to ground yourself with. Your chest began to tighten, a tight lump forming in your throat, and in that moment, your hand fished for your phone in your back pocket to text Shuri.

Kitchen. Now.

There was a light shake in your hands. You hated how just the mere sound of their voices sent you into a spiral; how much of an influence they still had on you after trying so hard to separate yourself from them. Then they had the nerve  to act pleasant.

There was a growing ringing in your ears, accompanied with the muffling of surrounding noise that made you breathe harder as you tried to stabilize yourself from the very apparent anxiety attack that was waiting to crash into you. You couldn’t decipher if it was the same one from before that you had fended off by sheer will, or if this was a new, more powerful one. However, when the smell of patchouli made its way to your nose, the thought of it became seconded.

“Hey,” Shuri whispered, one hand running the length of your arm, the other taking the cup from your hand that was seconds away from meeting the floor, and settling it onto the kitchen island, “hey, I am right here.”

“They’re out there, Shuri.” You breathe out.

Something shifts in Shuri’s eyes, and you can’t quite tell what it was, but the way her grip on you tightens in the ever so slightest way lets you know she’s thinking something.

“We can leave, beloved,” Shuri begins, but you’re quick to cut her off with a shake of your head.

“No,” you say, swallowing thickly, “I can’t leave, it’s Alex’s birthday-”

“Alex will understand, love; would she really want you to risk your own self for her?”

I’ve done it for years, the little girl in you voices tiredly, what’s another evening of it?

Shuri never wants to be forceful with you. She knows you’re your own woman and can make your own decisions, even if they go against her better judgment, even if they hurt you. Which is why, against every logical bone in her body, she proposes a compromise.

“Three chances,” Shuri says, “three chances is all they have. Then we will leave. How does that sound?”

Knowing Shuri, she’ll want to throw hands at the first encounter. It was endearing, really, how hard she went for you. The extent of such craze was never explored, simply because she was always calm, cool and collected. There was a part of you that always wondered  the extent of it as well.

And, in hindsight, you weren’t wrong about her.

Shuri peaks from the kitchen doorway and into the foyer, seeing Alex still entertaining the two adults, their backs turned towards the Queen, which gave her the incentive to leave while the trio were occupied.

She mutters a quick ‘let’s go’ with a gentle smile, and after a few seconds, you nod. Your hand finds her, tightly interlocking your fingers as Shuri pulls you back to the backyard gazebo. Shuri had no idea the depths she was about to breach in the layers of your estranged family, but whatever the case may be, she will not let you face it alone.

It was almost the perfect getaway, too, but apparently Shuri wasn’t fast enough in getting you out of the house. She heard the matured voice of your mother call out to you, asking if it was her other daughter, and Shuri supposed that it wasn’t meant to be taken in a demeaning way, but the queen certainly did. Perhaps it was predisposed biases, perhaps it was intentional. Either way, Shuri would make sure to take as much of the burden off you as she could.

“Mom,” you say, jaws tight, but Shuri stands close behind you, a hand on your waist, and it stabilizes you, “good to see you.”

The older woman, short in stature, with wide hips and thick arms, saw Shuri standing behind you, but whether or not she didn’t address her because she didn’t recognize the queen or because she simply didn’t care couldn’t be deciphered. “Come give me a hug-!”

“I’m good,” you hurriedly said, “just- uh, not feeling well.”

“Don’t be like that,” the deep, bolstering voice of your father chimed in; a large man with an intimidating physique. Shuri was not phased, her arm only snaked it’s way around your waist, “give your mama a hug, lil’ girl-”

“I said I’m good.” You reiterate more firmly, though there was an added incentive to clear your throat shortly afterwards to make your fib more believable. “Really; I know how easy it is for y’all to get sick.”

There was a moment of pause - and exchange of glances and a shift in energy before a light ‘humph’ came from your mother’s throat. “Well, I suppose that makes sense,” she snooted, “and I suppose that’s why your friend there is the exception-?”

“Girlfriend, actually,” Shuri interrupts, though it wasn’t planned, and surely wasn’t expected, “it is one of many perks of being the Black Panther. I do not succumb to normal colds and illnesses as easily.”

The pads of Shuri’s fingers press into your side as she steps beside you; she’s now side to side with you, face your parents with a high chin and a look you were sure she’d only pulled out when in front of important people - or people who she suspected would try to intimidate her, yet she’d still have to play nice for publicity purposes.

“Allow me to introduce myself formally,” Shuri said, holding out her hand for your mother to take; the shorter woman did just so as Shuri spoke again, “I am Queen Shuri to my people, but for tonight's festivities, I would like to remain just Shuri.”

“A queen?” Your mother breathes out in an amused chuckle, though you couldn’t tell if it was in actual amusement or in disbelief. “Well, perhaps we did do something right with her, hm, honey?”

Strike one.

Shuri’s hand then reaches out to your father, who stares at the long, brown arm outstretched before him for a moment, before taking one of his thick, meaty hands, and shaking Shuri’s tinier one. Though, the look on his face when the queen’s grip strengthened around his hand was enough to tell you his surprise and lack of proper judgment on the brown-skinned woman.

“Got a…firm grip for a lil’ lady.” He says.

“Well,” Shuri begins as she slips her hand from your fathers, “my baba and big brother always said a firm hand makes a firm leader.”

“Well, wise men they were.”

There was much to observe in the few words shared between Shuri and your parents. Your father hid very well behind the facade of a pleasant man of few words. Perhaps he was sculpted that way, by your mother or by his own parents; either one didn’t matter, only that the end result was a man with a weaker grip than the elders she held council with, and they were pushing their latter years of nineties and hundreds. Your parents looked to be in their mid-forties.

Your mother…Shuri admits that she wished her own were still alive, for the words she knew Ramonda would have for this short-stack of a woman would be more lethal than any weapon produced by her own hands. Condescension laced in her voice with a familiar tone of jealousy that she’d heard and witnessed many black mothers having towards their own daughters. It wasn’t hard to tell, Shuri thought, but perhaps when enough people ignore such a dangerous thing, the ugly nature becomes a tolerable norm.

“Well, if you will excuse us,” says the queen, “I’m going to take my beloved to sit down. She is in much need of rest.”

Shuri did not give your parents time to react, nor to object to the sudden ending to the conversation. She’d quickly pivoted your body around and walked back outside to the gazebo, a firm hand on your back and a ticking clock in her head for when the next strike would come.

Sure enough, Shuri did not have to wait long for that second strike. 

After getting you back to the gazebo to take a seat, on the verge of hyperventilating from the amount of anxiety the back and forth gave you, despite the fact that you weren’t even the one talking, Alex had come with a look of disdain. Your parents were in tow, as they claimed to want to ‘have a sit down and reconnect’. Of course, Shuri didn’t buy into that bullshit. Neither did Alex. And surely, neither did you.

And yet, neither you nor Alex yet had the courage to send them off, and Shuri, keeping herself in check, had no other choice but to allow them to sit with the three of you. So now you were tucked into Shuri’s side, phone in hand as a distraction, while Alex sat on a beige-cushioned chair to your left, and your parents in a similar-fashioned loveseat to the queen’s right.

Alex was kind enough to hide her discomfort in nervous laughs and meek agreements as your mother and father raved on about your childhoods. Specifically, the accomplishments of Alex, which would have been understandable as it was her birthday, if it didn’t have to include the ‘disappointments’ of yours they had to bring into the light.

“Remember the speech competition your grammar school had, Lexi-Pooh,” your mother chimed, using the youthful nickname Alex very physically cringed over, “you won your first ever trophy then at eight years old! Oh, we were so proud of you-”

“Mom, everyone got a trophy,” Alex reminded, putting emphasis on the word ‘everyone’ as she spared a glance your way, “we were babies, and it was a participation trophy. They just didn’t want us to be left out.”

“Well, still, my baby had the best poem on that stage!”

“Mom, I literally stole that poem off the internet.” Alex reasons.

“Yeah, off DeviantArt no less,” you speak with a chuckle, remembering the nights your sister scoured the internet for a poem to read because she, for the life of her, couldn’t write her own. Which she couldn’t be faulted for, she was in third grade after all.

Alex shares a small laugh as well. “If anyone should have won that competition, it should’ve been (Y/N),” She says. “All the teachers swore up and down she was gonna be the next Lorraine Hansberry or Audre Lorde. I bet you she got some bars hidden somewhere.”

Your mother could only hum in response; “Well, we can’t all be winners, I guess.”

There was a familiar sting that ached your heart. Despite how used you were to such rhetoric coming from your mother, it didn’t make the twang in your heart any less hurtful.

“You never liked that kinda stuff anyway, (Y/N),” your mother says, “so why did you join it-”

“I do like writing,” you say sharply, “and I wanted to be like my sister. Who doesn’t wanna be like their older sister at seven years old?”

You glanced up from your phone to look between the three people sitting before you. Alex shifts in her seat, uncomfortably, slightly shaking her head as she knows what is to come.

“Or were you just so busy with your perfect princess that you ain’t have time to learn me?”

“(Y/N)!” Your mother scolds, and you feel the protective arm of Shuri’s curl around you in defense. “Hush your mouth with them lies, girl!”

Your father remains silent, as he’s always done when your mother gets this way, and Shuri sees this, and takes note of it.

“I swear, I don’t know where we went wrong with you,” your mother huffs, “lost yo’ damn manners and mind talkin’ like that.”

Your mother then turns to Shuri, sporting an apologetic look, though it is not sincere, and merely a coverup for her own outburst. “Now I know your mother taught you well and good, Shuri, about how to talk to people and behave-”

“My mother is dead.” 

There is an inevitable shift in the conversation now, one that brings the eyes to Shuri as a deafening silence befalls the gazebo. Even you rise from your curled position into Shuri’s side to eye her demeanor, checking over her form to note any changes that came with the sudden mention of her mother. Yet, she is calm and collected, her eyes showing no shifts and her demeanor intact. All seemed well…on the surface, at least.

“My mother is dead, may she be at peace with the ancestors,” Shuri says, “and she is incomparable. I do not wish to speak further of her.”

A beat passes. Your hand travels to Shuri’s leg, providing a comforting touch to the woman beside you. You weren’t ignorant to the news of her family’s passing - since her father’s death, you’d had a semblance of understanding the inner turmoil she had endured. With her brother and mother gone, she was virtually alone - save for a sister-like figure and a nephew she’d only told you a little bit about in the past few months or so.

You wanted to say something, but your mother beat you to it - this time, she actually sounded somewhat apologetic for her ignorance.

“My condolences,” the woman mutters softly, clearing her throat, “I only meant that she must have had it easy raising you. You’re so well put together and polite, if only some of that would rub off on (Y/N)!”

Strike two.

“Mom, stop it,” Alex interrupts, voice firm with a scowl on her face, “you doin’ a lil’ too much now.” 

“Now, your mama ain’t said nun’ wrong,” your father suddenly speaks, who had been quite the entire conversation, but suddenly decided to stick up for his woman who was clearly in the wrong, “it’s just ladies spat, y’all know how y’all do.”

“And like I said before y’all got here, I don’t want it in my house.” Alex emphasizes. “If that’s the type of time y’all on, the door is very clearly marked with an obnoxiously pink birthday banner. Period.”

There was a small swell of pride in your chest for Alex as she set her foot down to your parents. She was determined to have them behave; she wanted a classy, friendly party for her birthday celebration. Though, she would know just as well as you that even when being put in place, the audacity of your parent’s always found itself back into trouble.

Your mother mumbled out an apology, along with something along the lines of ‘got me apologizing to my child’ under her breath as well, before you cleared your throat in an attempt to cut through the tension.

“Shuri, baby,” you hummed, “don’t we have something for Alex? In the car?”

Shuri turned to look at you, eyebrows slightly furrowed, before she officially caught on to what you were insinuating.

“Yes,” the queen breathes out with a small smile, “we do have something in the car. For the birthday girl.”

Alex, too, shares the same look Shuri previously sported, with furrowed eyebrows and confusion written on her face. “M-Me? Something for me?”

“Of course!” Shuri answers. “Surely you did not think we would show up empty handed?”

Shuri’s hand rests on your leg, both as a reminder of her very physical presence as a grounding for herself, “How foolish of me to forget. I do not know what I would do without you, my darling.”

Shuri stands, offering her hand to you as well, adding on how she will need your help to retrieve it, before escorting you from the gazebo. While on your way to exit the yard, Shuri can hear Alex giving your parents a further scolding, which makes the queen smile mischievously.

It wasn’t a complete lie for escape, however. Shuri was nice enough to buy a gift for your sister for her birthday, though it wasn’t anything massive, and despite your constant jokes of it, wasn’t a pair of kimoyo earrings (though, from Alex’s birthday outfit, she could tell that she was a jewelry girl, and a pair of earrings probably would have sufficed better).

“I’m starting to understand why you never told me about your parents,” Shuri says in a breathless scoff, pressing a button on her beads to pop open the trunk of her car, “infuriating doesn’t even begin to describe them.”

“Are you okay?” You ask in all seriousness. “The..comment about your mom, I mean.”

How could you be worried of her feelings when she’d just had to watch your mother berate you in front of her? Shuri wonders this as she turns from the open trunk of the car to face you again. Though, she supposes that from that interaction, you were more used to centering others and their emotions than yourself. Although it caused an ache in her heart, the revelation made sense of previous actions between the two of you.

“What I said was true,” the queen replies, “though I admit, perhaps there was a bite in my tongue.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t curse her out.”

“Well…I do have a promise to keep to Alex.” Shuri says in a soft laugh. “I do not want to be the cause of her birthday being ruined. Your parents are making it fairly hard to do that, however.”

Shuri closes the trunk of the car, the tiny bag holding Alex’s gift inside being set on top of it as the queen leans against the sleek black vehicle. She invites you into her embrace, pulling you between her legs and resting her hands on your hips; yours make their way onto her shoulders, a weak smile on your face.

“That’s two strikes by my count.”

“I know.”

“We have yet to even make it to dinner.”

“I know.”

“What do you want to do, beloved?”

I don’t know anymore, you think, this is all just too much.

“Let’s…stay.”

Part of you was reluctant to leave due to wanting to experience your sister’s birthday with her. You’d all but promised that you’d come to enjoy yourself with Shuri, even if your parents made that hard. But there was also an inkling of pettiness inside of you that wanted to show the assholes your parents were to the rest of your family members (who, while had suspicions of their weird behaviors and holier-than-thou rhetoric, would rather not engage in family drama to keep peace amongst the ranks). 

“I’m not letting them get the better of me,” you add on, “today is for Alex. And if they wanna make it a problem, it can be a problem.”

The look on Shuri’s face was a mix of shock and pride; she hadn’t expected you to say that, and if she were being honest with herself, she was secretly anticipating such a moment to occur. Perhaps because it would give her a chance to release the pent up frustrations that had collected within her due to your parents actions; perhaps it was because seeing you stand your ground had always been an attractive sight to her. Regardless, the small smile that spread across her face was a reflection of her hopefulness.

“One more chance, then?”

“Hopefully they make it count.”

Shuri remembers how she used to dislike family dinners.

The prospect of eating with her family irked her at a young age. Though she loved her parents and her brother dearly, her teenage self was far too absorbed in her technological advances to actively partake in the family tradition. She’d taken such a routine for granted, and now, the dinner table in the large palace she called home was barren. She barely ate there anymore, consumed by the regret of not making such precious moments a priority in her youth.

As she sits next to you at the elongated party table with the rest of your family members, she notes the same air of barrenness, but not of presence of people. It is a barrenness of love.

The behavior of certain family members began to change as the night progressed. Despite the lingering glares of your family members, many aunts and uncles approached you again, expressing their joy in seeing your presence. Perhaps it was truly the guilt that you mentioned earlier, how these extended family members were subject to the bystander syndrome, and hadn’t known how to deal with their guilty consciences for whatever reason. Perhaps these people did genuinely want to reconnect with their long lost niece, cousin, auntie. Shuri would never admit it aloud to anyone, but seeing the look of distaste upon your parents face was entertaining to say the least.

“So do you drive a space ship everywhere you go?” One of your many nephews asked the queen out of curiosity, big brown eyes and white bucked-teeth shining with glee, as he’d never seen anyone of her status before.

“Not everywhere,” Shuri answers, “only the far away places.”

“Do you go to other planets? Like Mars? Or Pluto?”

“Hmm,” the queen thinks, “I don’t think I have. I shall put that on my books and tell you about it upon my return. How does that sound, little one?”

“Awesome!”

Seeing Shuri interact with the younger children eased your tense body and racing mind. She was almost a natural with them, it seemed. You leaned into her side, your cheek squishing against her shoulder with a playful huff. “Can I have my girlfriend back, please? You’ve been askin’ her questions since we got to the table.”

“Nu-uh!” Objects the little boy. “Have not!”

“Have too, lil’ boy,” you reject, “now gon’ eat so your mama don’t yell at you.”

“Can we talk about spaceships after dinner then, Auntie Shuri?”

Shuri wasn’t sure if she should adhere to the new term, having only known the child for an hour or so, but to entertain him, she allowed it. “Sure. We can talk about spaceships after dinner.”

Thankfully, the young boy seemed to be satisfied with the compromise, and began to eat his plate of food. Shuri turns to you with an amused grin, eyebrows raised as she asks “Were you jealous of your own nephew?”

“I can be jealous if I want to,” you pout, bottom lip tucked out in protest, “lil’ shit was taking you away from me.”

Shuri laughs at your banter, both glad that you’ve somewhat relaxed, and that the evening seemed to be going well. She hoped that it would stay like this.

The clinking of metal to glass caught her attention, as well as the other partygoers. Looking towards the head of the table, Alex is standing, grasping the attention of everyone in order to speak.

“Now, we all know the reason today is such an important day, aside from the fact that it’s my birthday,” Alex begins, glancing around the table, making eye contact with each individual, “though some of the kids might not know. And since we have a newcomer with us,” she says, gesturing to Shuri, who returns a nod of acknowledgement as she speaks, “I figured now is as good of a time to talk about why we celebrate the twenty-fifth birthday of the girls in our family.”

Alex sets the glass down, clears her throat, and speaks again. “Now the story has never been written down, but anyone who has sat between Nana and Great Nana’s legs to get their hair done will know the story by heart. A generation or so before them, our family had a ‘curse’ on us girls. One of our enslaved ancestors was forced to ‘engage’ with their owner who desired a mixed child. That ancestor cursed our bloodline so that no girls would survive, and slowly our numbers began to dwindle.”

You always loved to hear this story. You were never sure why, but it had always been more than hair braiding entertainment to keep a child's attention. The raw history that your grandmother and great-grandmother passed down your line of lineage always held a special place in your heart.

“Then one thing lead to another, a generation passes, and a girl is born…and she lives old enough to run away with another slave guy she fell in love with. And that ancestor had Great Nana, who had Nana, who had mom and the aunties…who had us.”

You’d been sitting to Alex’s right when she extended her hand to you to hold. You accepted it with a warm smile. She’d done the same to your mother as well.

“Reaching twenty-five is like a right of passage. Guarantees to a long, fulfilling life. And that is what we celebrate tonight.”

There were a series of claps, cheers, whoops and hollers that erupted from the table, coming from the queen herself as well. It was indeed a remarkable retelling, she thought, and she even noticed the way that Alex posed herself as a bridge between you and your mother. She applauded the woman for still trying to reconcile, but knew that there was no hope for such a feat.

As soon as Alex sat down, your mother took a stand. “I’d like to make a toast as well.”

Shuri felt you lean just a little bit closer to her. 

“My baby, oh, what can I even say?” Your mother begins, striking up a face of pride. “You were perfect since the day I first laid eyes on you. I knew you’d be destined for greatness, and I can’t be any more proud of you than I am now. My baby girl is all grown up, and I can’t wait to see more of the outstanding woman you’ve become…”

Another round of applause echoes throughout the backyard, and Shuri breathes. Though she doesn’t trust your mother one bit, the words that came from her mouth seemed very genuine-

“...and you are more than fit to carry on this tradition. My only daughter that can.”

-nevermind.

The distant crickets could be heard as your mother took her seat again, seemingly proud of her little stunt. Perhaps she thought it was something good to say, but neither you, Alex, or Shuri saw the need for the ending.

“That ending wasn’t needed, but thank you.” Alex says through gritted teeth, a sigh leaving her lips. It was much like the older woman to need the last word, and although Alex truly hoped she would behave, her own patience was waning thin with the woman and her antics.

“We have a toast as well!”

Shuri whips her head to you, brows furrowed in confusion as she whispers, “We do?”

The words leave your lips before you can actually think about what you’re about to do. Upstaging your mother had never been something you’d acted upon, although you’d fantasized about shutting her up numerous times with your own words; the courage was just never there. Perhaps it was because now you were older, or perhaps it was because you now knew that Alex was on your side, or perhaps it was because you had Shuri next to you to back you up. Whatever it was, it began surging through your veins that once were riddled and crippled with anxiety.

Nonetheless, you’re standing up, and so is Shuri, so there isn’t any backing down now. All eyes were on you.

“Sister,” you begin, reaching your hand out Alex who stands up again to be eye level with you, “I will make this quick, ‘cuz you know I hate sappy shit.”

Alex laughs a little. Her grip on your hands is comforting, and the way she looks at you is almost in a coaching matter. She hadn’t expected such a burst of confidence either, but wasn’t about to let you face it alone.

“We’ve had our…ups and down,” you say, “and there were ‘things’ happening that I blamed you for, that I pushed you away for. But you’ve always been there. You were..the only person there.”

You feel Shuri’s hand caress the small of your back for support. You feel like crying, and you're not sure the reason for it, but you push it down and continue.

“I am grateful for you, and I’m glad I came to celebrate with you…and I love you.”

The air that was once thick when you started to speak seemed to ease when you said those last three words. And again, claps and praises flew out into the air at the confession. Alex, the much more sappier of one of the two of you, tried to keep her eyes from swelling with tears, but of course it was harder for her to do so.

“Don’t you start crying,” you say playfully through the loudness of the table, “‘cus you know if you do, then I’ma start crying, and we just gon’ be two snotty nosed bitches-”

Yet you didn’t get the chance to finish, because Alex then pulls you into her embrace. It’s tight and full of love, and she gives you no choice but to sink into it. For a second, it seems like the noise drowns out as you bask in the love from your sister, and you hear a faint ‘thank you’ being whispered into your ear right as she pulls away.

“I suppose this means it is my turn,” Shuri says sheepishly, once the embrace has finished and you’ve returned right at her side. She’d been thinking of what to day this entire time, though each scenario that she had run through her head didn’t seem worthy of a quality toast to a quality woman, “I shall try to make this toast worthy of your time, Miss Birthday Girl.”

“Sitting at this table, surrounded by all of you; it reminds me of a similar family routine that I took for granted in my youth.” Shuri’s eyes gaze from person to person as she speaks. “You see, I was too absorbed in my technological advances to truly appreciate the aspects of family dinners. The mundaneness of sitting with one another and being present. I used to want to give anything to be left to my own devices. And now, I sit at the head of the same table, with no one. I am Queen of the most powerful nation in the world, and my entire family is gone.”

Another silence fills the table as everyone looks onto Shuri; her head is held high as she speaks, though, voice unwavering. She breathes when she feels your hand slip into hers.

“Alex, you are a very blessed woman to have your family here with you to celebrate a generational obstacle overcome,” the queen bids, “and for that, I propose a toast to you, and a saying from my people to yours.”

The queen picks up her red cup, and watches as each individual picks up their own, before speaking again. “To Alex, a woman of virtue and genuity. ‘Akukho mntu ngaphandle kwesidenge ophika usapho lwakhe’.”

A round of cheers sounds before everyone downs a gulp of their chosen drinks in unison, applauding Shuri for her heartfelt toast and gratitude. As the both of you sit, and light chatter begins to cover the table, your mother calls out to Shuri with a look of curiosity.

“Such a lovely quote, Shuri,” your mother says, “what does it mean?”

“Oh, the proverb,” Shuri says, “it is one my baba used to say.”

“Did he now?”

“It means ‘No one but a fool denies their family’.”

Hearing this, your gaze shifts from the food in front of you to Shuri, who sports a proud smirk as she watches your mother grow uncomfortable in her seat from the queen’s words. As if she were putting the dots together in her own head.

With Dinner done, your nephew was all too quick to pull the queen aside to continue their conversation about her fancy spaceships. While his eagerness was endearing, Shuri had to put the conversation on hold because of an important phone call that came through. You assumed that it was Ayo, a name you had heard in fleeting conversations, but knew it to be a person of importance to Shuri. A captain of her Queen’s Guard, which Shuri had respectfully asked to fall back on attending the outing with the both of you, since it was a family thing, and Shuri didn’t want Alex’s neighbors questioning why so many bald-headed women were lingering around her house.

She said she would make the call quick, five minutes at most, before stepping into the house for quiet and privacy. The loss of her presence made you slightly anxious, but you maintained your spot in the gazebo, and Alex popped in here and there. She was the host, so she had to engage with the rest of her partygoers, but you were more than grateful that she took the time out to still check in on you, despite it being her day.

You took a sip of your drink - the adult punch that had been put in the kitchen so kids couldn’t get to it - and watched the party goers enjoy themselves from the comfort of your seat. Children running around, chasing each other with sparklers; aunties and uncles dancing to the old school remix; teens making TikTok videos with dances and skits. For a moment, things were content, and everyone was happy. Normal.

For a moment, for the first time in a long time, you felt happy with your family. 

“You’ve found this corner real comfortable, I see.”

The voice of your mother slips through he peaceful silence that previously covered the gazebo, and although you don’t feel it at first, your body begins to tense. She herself sports a red solo cup, though you can’t tell what’s inside of it. 

She doesn’t ask to join you - just takes up a single seat across from you - and even if she were to ask, you aren’t sure if you could even mutter an answer.

“It’s been so long since you’ve left,” your mother says, “since you decided you were grown enough and left your family behind. How has life been for you?”

“Good.” You reply, short and curt, taking a sip from your drink.

“You seem more than good,” she continues, “I assume living with a queen gives you a lot of financial relief-”

“If you came over here to start shit, please don’t.” You quickly cut off. “One; my relationship is of no concern to you, but Shuri doesn’t pay for shit of mine that I have. I was good before I met her, and I’m still going good on my own.”

You weren’t sure where the sudden crossness came from, but you definitely knew it had something to do with your mother’s constant mention of Shuri, as if she held prominent importance tonight and not the other child she’d birthed. “And it’s Alex’s birthday. I’m here for her.”

Your mother scoffs at your words, “-and there you go, twistin’ my words around and making me seem like the enemy. I’m just trying to talk to you!”

“Bullshit,” you spit, rising from your seat in a quick bid to find a quick exit into an area more populated, and more importantly, away from her, “I’m not doing this with you.”

You turn to try and leave, but your mother continues to speak behind you, pushing you further, “you’re so ungrateful; after everything we’ve done for you, you can’t even show an ounce of respect to your own mother.”

In that moment your body froze on the steps of the gazebo. A dull chill awakens within you, spreading through your limbs, your skin nearly rising into goosebumps, before a wave of anger crashes in.

“Fine,” you mutter, “you wanna ‘talk’?”

You turn to face your mother once again, eyes burning holes into her face, which has the audacity to hold a look of shock. “Let’s fucking talk.”

“Oh, but where to begin?” You scoff. “Maybe lets talk about how you can’t seem to ever say one good thing about me. It’s always some backhanded comment that you can’t help to point out how amazing Alex was and how shitty I was in comparison-”

“-that is not true,” your mother tries to interject, “but you were - and still are - a difficult child-”

“-I wasn’t fucking difficult!” You shout, drawing a few pairs of eyes to you and your mother. “I wanted fucking attention that you weren’t giving me! And you thought beating me was the best way to get me to ‘stop acting out’?”

“It was discipline!”

“Oh, but Alex never needed it though, right?” You question. “Alex was just so perfect to yall. She got the best of everything while your little mistake became the punching bag you took your frustrations out on!”

The increasing shouting started to draw attention from the other partygoers, who muttered among themselves, wondering the reason for the altercation, questioning if they should intervene. And it only got worse when the sound of skin slapping skin echoed throughout the backyard, making the music that played from outdoor speakers seem quiet.

Your mother, the pious, religious, righteous woman she claimed to be, just slapped you in front of the rest of your family.

“What’s going on over here?” The voice of your father bellows as he approaches the gazebo, having only made his presence known after a few gasps from seeing your mother hit you.

“I will not be disrespected by you, you ungrateful wench,” your mother seethes, “I was a damn good mother to you, even when we fell on hard times. I raised you!”

“I was a fucking kid!” You yell back. “How does a fucking adult take their anger out on their own kid!?”

“And you,” comes your voice through gritted teeth upon seeing your father coming to console your mother, which seemed to anger you even more, “dear old dad, who never ‘picked a side’. You sat there and watched as she fucked up her own kid.”

Your voice comes out more strained, wavering at the sight of your father. The man you saw treat Alex like a literal princess while you could only ever dream of being treated as such. You knew the next words you’d say were going to push his buttons - perhaps part of you wanted a reaction from him that could show that maybe, somewhere inside of him, he cared when your mother didn’t.

“If anything you’re more of a bitch than her!”

You weren’t sure what scared you more in that moment; the loud grunt and your fathers arms menacingly reaching out towards you, or the flash of black that shot across your vision right before you closed your eyes shut, anticipating something to happen.

The silence was deafening as you felt your legs stumble back into something warm but you were too scared to open your eyes yet. Of all your senses that had been stricken with tension, the first to register with reality once again was your hearing.

“I want you to think carefully about your next actions,” the queen’s voice comes out hardened and unyielding, “because I can assure you, I will not have to think about mine.”

That flash of black that had crossed your vision earlier had been Shuri. And if your eyes had been open, you yourself would have shuddered at the pure rage that was present on her face.

Shuri’s hand, albeit tiny and delicate in most cases, held your father’s wrist in a right grasp, and despite the broader man's struggles to pull free, it was futile. She was not letting him go, and neither was the intensity of her stare that held your mother’s gaze. 

“If you don’t let my husband go-”

“Shut. Up.” And her words were absolute, leaving no room for question. Perhaps it was part of the authoritarian aura that she’d gained from taking on her queenship that shut your mother up, but whatever the case may have been, Shuri admits that she certainly enjoyed the look of surprise on your mother’s face.

“Alex,” Shuri says, and it now becomes clear to you that the thing you had back into was your very sister. It also became clear how tight her grip on you was, as if she were scared to let you go, “take my beloved back to my car. We will be leaving shortly.”

There’s a gentle nudge and a hushed ‘c’mon’ before you feel yourself being moved sideways, then forward, Alex doing as Shuri says and relocating you to the front of her home to get you into a safer, calmer place.

It isn’t until Shuri sees your figure disappear behind the wooden fence that she releases your father’s wrist. The man winces as he regains control of his limb, his wife bringing her hands to soothe the skin where it was beginning to turn purple from just how tight her grasp was.

Shuri turns in a slow circle, eyes scanning each and every one of the individuals who’d stood by and undoubtedly watched the scene unfold, offering no sign of intervention. “This is what your family is?” She calls out. “It is sickening.”

The guilt shines in their eyes but Shuri has none of it. To her, they are all just as guilty as your parents, for they've watched the same scene unfold many times before, and just the same, no one stood up.

The queen turns back to your parents, as she bites the inside of her cheek to control her composure. “I do not know your story,” she says, “nor do I wish to, and now, nor do I care. I only leave you with this as I leave.”

Shuri takes a step forward to your parents, jaw clenched tight and piercing eyes meeting theirs once again. “My (Y/N) will be loved…as it is clearly something neither of you could bestow upon her.”

And in the same flash of black she leaves the party, that had long gone silent, and biting her tongue so hard she thought she’d draw blood.

Exitting the back yard, Shuri comes around the front to see you and Alex sitting on the porch steps. She holds a towel to your cheek, whispering to you with care about holding the cold, wet cloth gently on your cheek to battle the inflammation. It was the first and only thing she could grab without immediately leaving your side, the green garden hose still running into the grass proof of it.

It takes everything in Shuri not to run to you, to pull you into her arms and cradle you into her embrace, to shield you from the cruelness that has surely been brought back to the forefront of your mind. There’s a pit in her stomach that churns with the pain of unease, and it eats at her as she thinks; if she had just been swifter with that call with Ayo, or better yet, not even answered at all, then you wouldn’t have been left alone, and you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

Shuri grows closer and realizes that the both of you are crying, and her heart tightens in her chest. She bends down to meet you on eye level, resting a soothing hand on your leg. Alex holds her head in one hand, her other still grasped tightly onto your side, holding you close to her. Shuri finally understands what Alex meant when she talked about the varying levels of harm done to the sisters in their youth. You took the physical and verbal brunt, while Alex took the emotional.

“This was not suppose to happen.” Shuri hears Alex mutter, and the queen quickly cuts in before Alex has a chance to even say as such.

“It is not your fault, Alex,” the queen asserts, “you cannot be responsible for the actions of your parents.”

Alex looks up to Shuri, sniffling as their eyes connect. A beat passes before the older sister nods, though her jaw is still tight with tension. There’s a shift in Alex’s eyes, from sadness and regret, to a hardened security.

“I need to get my house in order,” she says, glancing to her side, and reluctantly peeling her arm from around your waist, “party’s officially over.”

Alex stands to do just as she intends, and as she leaves, Shuri grows closer to you. One hand rubs circles into your knee, the other one gently lifts your face up to meet hers. Your eyes are tired, likely due to adrenaline fatigue, but your body still shakes with a light tremble.

“I am taking you home.” She says, leaving no room for argument; even though, in your current state, you couldn’t refuse her if you wanted to. So when Shuri wraps her arms around you and lifts you to your feet, you all but lean into her warmth. 

And the kiss she presses into the crown of your head provides reassurance that even after the events that have unfolded, with Shuri, you will be okay.

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