#i literally visited her house all the time and she called them mom and mother

[thatshadyperson]

IT JUST CLICKED TO ME THAT MY BEST FRIEND FROM KINDERGARTEN HAD TWO MOTHERS THAT WERE IN A RELATIONSHIP OH MY GOD

#HOW AM I SO STUPID #i literally visited her house all the time and she called them mom and mother #i get not understanding that in kindergarten bc i was raised a christian #but it didn't even click until now #it should have clicked in 3rd grade #i was still best friends with the girl in 3rd grade #and i still didn't understand her mothers were in a relationship #like they literally said they were together and i was like yeah you're living together #i text her yesterday and they're still together and i asked their sexuality and apparently they're lesbians #lesbian #lesbians #lesbian mothers #i was so dumb as a kid #i swear #they literally kissed in front of me once too #and i was just like oh they're really close friends #fucking stupid little child i was #i'm glad i'm still in contact with the friend #she's so sweet and so are her mothers

[silverflqmes]

may i please please please request an angeal x reader where angeal comes back to town to visit his mom and he takes the reader around where he lives for fun & his mom spills very embarrassing things about him? i love the fact that you write about angeal since he's on the rarer side of liking<3 thank you so much and have a nice rest of your day!

໒⦂ 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄.

notes. hi hi anon, this is such a cute prompt, i hope my execution is to your liking<3 and i agree he fr is an underrated king, so i shall do my best to serve🫡

genre. fluff

angeal hewley x gn!reader.

the fresh air of banora reminded angeal of how much he had missed home, being among the smog of midgar as he’d been.

after weeks of being asked- urged to visit his hometown with his partner of seven months now, the first class SOLDIER had reluctantly taken a small leave of absence. a few days away from action couldn’t be too, too bad.

besides — his two friends promised to deal with his share of missions. so his worries lessened.

however, he still couldn’t help the nerves he had for how things would go with his mother. granted, she was incredibly eager in the letters she had written him and excited to be meeting you — his beloved. but that excitement was what worried angeal.. who knew what she would spill about him, he had all sorts of embarrassing memories! especially with genesis..

the teal eyed male prayed the house would be enough for you — he hadn’t exactly lived a life of luxury, so the space was small.. but cozy. he hoped you found it the same, despite the minimal space.

“what’s it like being home after so long? did you miss it??” your voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts, a smile on your lips as he turned to face you with one of his own.

how did it feel, indeed.. “it’s always pleasant to be home, i haven’t been here in a good while.. though it hasn’t changed a bit.” he chuckled, gazing up at the overgrown arch of violet shapes, dangling from their branches. “looks like we came at the right time, too.”

it was none other the native fruit of his village.

for them to be in full harvest upon his arrival, must have been a sign that he was meant to be here, and with you, no less.

“woah, they’re purple!” you beamed in astonishment, wondering for a moment if you’d perhaps been color blind — but thankfully, that wasn’t the case.

“despite their name, they’re called banora whites — or dumbapples, as some like to refer to them as well, for their irregular harvests.” angeal explained, a eyes softening a bit. “the best ones came from the tree that grew at genesis’ estate.” he mused, smiling fondly.

your eyes managed to catch the look on his face before you let out a thoughtful hum. “is that so? maybe we should bring some back for him! oh- and sephiroth too! i think they’ll both appreciate it a lot.” you laughed, taking ahold of your lover’s hand as you watched a line of houses come into view.

banora was small, but quaint. it felt like an honor to be there beside angeal — to have the privilege of being shown around the place he’d grown up in. you couldn’t help but feel special.

“think so?” he asked for certainty before letting out a snort. “perhaps they will. we can pick some tomorrow if you’d like, my mother’s likely going to keep us for the remainder of the day.” the first could recall her letters pressing for him to bring you by, never failing to bring you up since the very first letter he’d sent out confirming his relationship. “i hope that’s alright with you.”

blinking, you then nudged his shoulder, rolling your eyes. “are you kidding?? of course it is! i have got to meet your mom and thank her for bringing the literal most perfect man to have ever existed into the world!” you grinned, squeezing his hand. “so let’s not keep her waiting!”

shock painted his features before he shook his head in defeat, heaving an amused sigh as a rosy hue colored his cheeks. “as you wish..”

it hadn’t taken long for angeal and yourself to arrive at his doorstep, a combination of pleasant aromas invading your senses. just how much had his mother prepared..?

your boyfriend reached for the knob, holding the door open for you before closing it behind himself. “and we’re here.” he spoke up gently, removing the buster sword from his back to rest it against the wall. “i apologize if it’s not much.. but, it’s home.”

the space was relatively small, but cozy — it felt warm and homelike, somehow, despite having only just arrived there.

your lips parted to protest, wanting to say that it was perfect, only for a gasp to intercept you.

“a-angeal, could it be?” a voice chimed in, the sound of rushing water silencing as the dark haired woman in the kitchenette turned to face you both.

her eyes seemed to gloss over with tears as she made her way up to your lover, placing her hands on his cheeks tenderly. “my dearest son, oh how you’ve grown..” the woman whispered incredulously, smiling nostalgically. “it feels like only yesterday that you were just outside, running around with genesis.. now, you’ve returned as a strong, handsome SOLDIER, that has brought home the beloved he speaks of so highly in his letters.” her attention shifted to you as she took your hands in her own, squeezing them adoringly. “you must be y/n, goodness, you’re even more lovely in person! i trust that angeal has been treating you well?”

the male in question let out a breath, flushing a bit. “mother..”

a warmth spread through your chest as you fluttered your lashes before nodding rapidly. “t-that’s me! it’s a pleasure to meet you, miss hewley! rest assured that angeal has taken very good care of me thus far- i’m eternally grateful for him, so thank you for allowing me to date your son, and for inviting me here!” you bowed, wanting to express your appreciation as best as you could. should all go well, this would be your future mother in law!

it shocked her in all honesty. how had his silly son captured the heart of such a sweetheart?? truly, you were too good for this world!

“please, gillian is fine.” she assured you softly, wiping her tears before letting out a soft laugh. “i’m relieved to hear that my son has been well to you, i can worry less now, knowing that he is aware on how to treat his lover.” the charcoal haired woman sighed out contentedly before ushering you in. “ah- come in, make yourself comfortable! our humble abode may lack in space — but treat it as though it were your own. lunch will be ready shortly!”

the mako eyed male inclined his head, picking up your bags. “i’ll put these in my room. while i’d offer a tour, there isn’t much to show..” he chuckled awkwardly, walking ahead to his old bedroom.

you rolled your eyes, finally calming down from your initial bashfulness. “show away! don’t go gatekeeping!” you scolded lightly, attempting to snatch a bag off of him to lend assistance, however.. being as enhanced as he was.. your partner had been quicker.

“gatekeeping?” he repeated before laughing again. “alright, alright. well- this is my room. growing up, we didn’t have much- so it’s on the bare side, although genesis insisted on hanging up pictures of us as mementos.” he explained, smiling to himself a little. “he had also gifted me a copy of loveless, stating that our friendship required me to have one.”

that made you shake your head, a snicker tumbling past your lips. “that sounds like him for sure. you guys look so adorable, you were so so cute, angeal!!”

he rubbed his neck, averting his gaze. “cute is the last word i would use to describe myself.. but if you say so.” the SOLDIER loosed a low breath, smiling to himself before guiding you out. “the next room over is my mother’s, beside it is the restroom.. and i think that’s it.” he concluded, stopping to take in the living room.

not much had changed since he’d last been there, the raven haired male realized. save for a few extra photos his mother had likely framed in his absence.

“angeal, just in time! will you help with setting things up? i might have made too much..” gillian spoke up with a nervous chuckle, tucking a pair of wooden salad tongs into the bowl of greens.

too much felt like an understatement.. he hoped everything would fit on the table.

“let me!” you piped up, snapping the first out of his daze as you jogged up to his mother. “least i can do for receiving your hospitality!”

the older woman blinked before shaking her head. “nonsense, you are our guest! i couldn’t allow that-!” but your hands had already pried the bowl out of her grasp as you flashed a small, reassuring grin.

“doesn’t mean a ‘guest’ can’t lend a hand!”

with that said, the table set in a shorter amount of time, a whisper of thanks expressed for the food before the three of you ate in a comfortable silence.

there was idle chatter here and there, mostly exchanged between yourself and gillian — who was eager to pull out photo albums that you were certainly not opposed to viewing. angeal baby pictures?? that was all the convincing you needed!

“and this one is of him taking his first steps.” she cooed softly, reminiscing in the memory. “cutie, isn’t he?”

you melted at the sight, whining softly. “that’s what i’ve been saying! see ang, even your mom agrees!”

bringing a palm to his face, the male in question let out a soft breath of exasperation. although there was no hiding that undeniable smile on his face.

he was glad he’d given in to taking this small trip home that his two friends had urged him ( for the most part ) into. being back in banora and with his mother brought an indescribable warmth to his chest, which only increased with you at the very table he’d grown up eating at.

when had he gotten so lucky?

“ah- and this one is of him and genesis bathing together-”

or unlucky, in some cases..

“i-i think that’s enough photos for today, mother..”

something told him there would be handsome amounts of embarrassment in the coming days.

he prayed sephiroth and genesis, especially, wouldn’t catch wind of it..

notes. whoops, i had this sitting and finally got around to finishing it. little rushed at the end but i’m hoping it’s good and that i wrote angeal alright..

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

#— ; 🏹 ) final fantasy vii fics. #ffvii #ff7 #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #angeal hewley #angeal hewley x reader #angeal #ff7 angeal #ffvii angeal #ff7 x reader #ffvii x reader #angeal hewley x you #angeal hewley x y/n #angeal x reader #angeal x you #angeal x y/n #ffvii crisis core #ff7 crisis core #crisis core #crisis core reunion #final fantasy angeal #final fantasy 7 x reader #final fantasy vii x reader

[acourtofladydeath]

Poly+ ACOTAR Week Day 1: Beginnings

All his life Nyx has been raised by his parents, Rhysand and Feyre, and their mate Tamlin. One day he decides to ask him mom how their bonds snapped and she is more than happy to oblige.

Inspired by the storytelling in "The Princess Bride" and "How I Met Your Mother" this is angsty, fluffy fun.

So excited to kick off the first day of @polyacotarweek with one of my favorite trios, Feytamsand. Start reading below, or read the entire fic on AO3 here!

“Mom!” I shouted through the hall of the River House. It was her day off, which probably meant she was painting. The River House had a state of the art studio for her to work in, but she typically painted wherever inspiration struck. Which means she could be anywhere. 

The house was entirely too large. Something I loved growing up when I wanted to hide, but hated when I needed to find them. Sure, we could mind speak, but once I walked in on my parents having daemati sex, something I literally didn't know existed before then. After that, I refused to communicate that way unless there was an emergency. 

“In here Nyxie!” She called back from the library at the end of the hall. It had a huge window overlooking the Sidra and sunset. Throughout the day light cast through the window, ricocheting through the room. As it traveled it glanced across the wide array of books, some gilded and some plain, painting the floor in its own way. With the kaleidoscope of colors and dancing light, it was one of mom’s favorite spots to paint. Aunt Nes spent most of her time here when she visited, but today it was just mom. 

“What’s up, baby?” Mom said as I walked in. Covered head to toe in paint, she turned to look at me and wiped even more on her apron and one of her mate’s old shirts. Now which one, I wasn’t quite sure. But judging by those giant, billowy sleeves and the gauzy white linen fabric I had a pretty good guess. 

“I’m not a baby anymore,” I scoffed from the doorway. There was no way I’d get any closer to her like this. Last time she hugged me while painting it took three baths to get it all off and my clothes had to be burned. 

“Nyx you are thirteen, you are definitely still my baby. Even a hundred years from now you’ll still be my baby. I’m your mother, that’s how it goes.” She smiled softly at me then, one of those smiles that told me she was thinking about the past and the future all at once. They were my favorites. 

“What did you need? Or did you just want to watch me paint?” My mom asked, slight worry in her eyes. I’d never been great at schooling my expressions like dad was, mom and I had that in common. We both wore our emotions on our sleeves for all to see. 

I sighed, settling in to ask the question that had been gnawing at me for some time now. “One of the kids at school said something today that bothered me,” I rubbed at the muscles in the back of my neck with one hand, my gaze cast down on the floor as I tried to find the right words. 

It took me several long breaths, but mom waited patiently even as I felt her own anxiety build. “They said…” I let out a long sigh, there really was no good way to say this. “They said it’s not fair that I have two High Lords for parents, or for you to have two mates. And it’s not the first time, either.” 

Mom wrung her apron uneasily between her paint streaked hands, her art now completely forgotten as she focused on me. “I’m sorry you’re having to deal with this love. We knew people might say things like this, Nyx. I wish I had better answers for you, but the Mother gave your fathers and I each two mates.” She looked up at me with apology in her eyes, something I never intended and didn’t need to hear from her again. “I never wanted it to affect you negatively though.” 

“I know mom, and I know we’ve talked it to death.” I ran a frustrated hand through my hair. “It’s just still a lot, you know?” A thought struck me then. I knew my parents were all mates, I knew they’d met around the time of Amarantha’s reign under the mountain. We’d had a lot of conversations that time so I wasn’t caught off guard if other kids or parents mentioned it, but still…

“How’d you all find out anyway?” 

Mom cocked her head slightly to the side, her brow furrowed just a bit. “What do you mean?”

“How’d you find out you’re all mates? I mean, we’ve talked about the mountain and how you met them, but I’ve never really heard the full story of how your bonds snapped.” 

A secretive smile slid across her face then, and my mom straightened her head toward me. “Would you like to hear the full story? I think you’re old enough now.”

“Only if you promise to spare the gross bits…” I said, internally cringing as the unbidden image of mentally walking in on them flashed through my mind again. Fighting back a shudder at the memory I continued,  "But I am pretty curious.” I smiled slightly, and her own brightened wide enough to light the whole room. 

“Are you too old to sit on mom’s lap for story time? I can change out of my paint clothes first, I know you’ve taken after your dad with how much you care for your clothes.” she asks, humor alight in her words. 

I feel the heat of a blush on my cheeks as I answer. “Definitely too old for sitting on your lap…but maybe not for the couch…” She knew what I meant. When I had bad dreams or hard days at school, sometimes I’d lay on the couch, head in her lap. It felt too juvenile to use the word ‘cuddles’ but I guess that’s what it was. A kid’s allowed to cuddle his mom right? 

A few minutes later, mom was back wearing leggings and one of her favorite sweaters. She sat on the couch next to the big window in the library and patted the seat next to her, warmth filling the space between us. I pushed off the wall from where I stood and went to join her. As I settled in, she began her story. “Alright Nyx, let’s start from the beginning. Here’s the story of how I met your fathers.” 

Continue reading at the first cut on AO3.

Please let me know if you would like off or on my taglist!: @pippsmcgee @born-to-riot @chunkypossum @bubybubsters @queercontrarian @yanny-77 @fieldofdaisiies @iftheshoef1tz @secret-third-thing

#acotar #acomaf #feysand #tamsand #feylin #feytamsand #poly!acotar #poly+acotarweek2024 #poly+acotarweek2024 d1 #spot the sneaky azris #nyx is a teenage menace but still love him #feyre throws a lot of shoes #Rhysand keeps secrets but what else is new #Tamlin is broody and lovesick #mother-son bonding #tamlin #feyre archeron #rhysand #nyxie pyxie #nyx archeron #nyx #acowar #under the mountain #spring court #night court #acotar angst #angst #pining #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfic

[x-liv25-jamieswife]

if you can, do you mind doing some toby and avery hcs??

toby and avery head canons

of course, i'd love to!! i'm literally so obsessed with them, and their story literally makes me sob. hope you like them <3. @catapparently helped.

i honestly may have read a fic about this on ao3, but toby got avery a music box that played her mom singing this lullaby when someone opened it. she cried for hours in his arms.

avery blames herself for what happened to toby and the blakes, and sometimes calls him to apologize profusely (even though he's already forgiven her). he assures her he still loves her and that she means the world to him.

they don't call or see each other often except for at galas and events that the blakes drag him to. they always sneak away (with the help of the hawthornes) so they have time to talk.

hannah would sometimes tell toby that they were going to be at like a bowling alley that day or smth, and he'd do his best to show up and watch her play and have fun. he would tear up at the life he wanted but could never have.

he walked her down the aisle on her wedding day. she originally didn't want anyone to do it because she doesn't like the idea of your parent 'giving you away to someone', but when she realized who toby was and what he meant to her, that changed.

they visit hannah's grave together and just cry in each others arms. they'll tell each other what they miss most from the life they had before with her.

toby tells her about all the wild things hannah would say to him and how much she hated him at first. avery loves hearing him talk about her mother because he always sounds so in love.

toby will mail her little puzzles that he carved for her to solve. she always sends him picks of it when she's done.

avery regularly goes back to the spot where they used to eat after their chess games/where they used to play chess to feel closer to him.

toby calls her horrible girl and princess, and, when she has kids, he starts calling them horrible boy and princeps (princess in latin according to google translate) (i hc that aj have a daughter and a son)

toby gave avery the talk not because she needed it but bc he saw it as a classic father/daughter experience that he wanted to have with her.

toby wishes he was less of a coward when he was younger and actually took part in avery' life. he regrets not seeing her grow, take her first steps, her first day of school etc..

avery knows this and will sometimes send him videos her mom took of her when she was younger (we know she used to send him postcards sometimes but its not the same)

for his birthday, avery will head over to the blake's house (or wherever he's currently living), threaten the people who answer the door to let her in, and will spend a few minutes with him before she's forced to leave.

she sometimes gifts him things that used to belong to her mother

toby tried to teach her how to carve wood, but she could never get the hang of it. she tries her best and gifts him her attempts even if they suck. toby finds it very sweet and adorable.

avery has a really nice voice but doesn't like to sing bc it reminds her of her mom on her death bed (she used to ask avery to sing her her favorite songs before she died). toby loves her voice though so sometimes she'll suck it up and record a voice message of her singing.

they will send each other songs that remind them of the other.

toby has the best relationship advice (even though he's never really been in a relationship except for with hannah). when she's having trouble with jamie (very rare), she'll go to him IF possible (i literally say this in every post for like avery and grayson or nash, but i think it fits toby and avery best)

toby has an insta account avery doesn't know about that he uses to like and comment on each and every one of her posts.

toby watches all of the broadcasted events she attends, all of her interviews, etc. he's her biggest fan.

he knows she loves sushi so sometimes he'll order her some and get it delivered to her house on days where she's told him she's swamped with work.

avery's kids call him grandpa even though he's not actually their grandpa.

they love sending each other cryptic messages for the other to figure out.

they usually call each other late at night bc that's when the blakes are less likely to catch him. jamie will leave the room when this happens and let them talk.

after vincent blake died, he was more free to do whatever he wanted so he started visiting her more often. not all the time though because eve was still a pain in the ass.

avery has a bad habit of going to bed way to late and waking up way to early so toby will text to make sure she's getting sleep ('are you heading to bed, princess' or 'i hope you aren't still awake, horrible girl')

toby actually swears a lot and avery finds it hilarious. he starts to swear even more bc it makes her laugh.

toby loves sightseeing and will always be taking pictures of his favorite places (he travels a lot bc of the blakes). he sends her all of these pictures

toby tries to be cool and texts like gen z, and avery finds it absolutely traumatizing. she begs him to stop but it just eggs him on.

when avery wakes up from nightmares and has a panic attack, but doesn't want to wake up jamie, she'll call toby. he'll tell her to breathe with him and then will ask her if she's ok in a soft voice. then they'll hang up. she never talks about her nightmares and he never asks. this is literally what happens every time

toby is always sending her memes and dad jokes. she finds them embarrassing but cute at the same time.

#the inheritance games #avery grambs #grayson hawthorne #jameson hawthorne #toby hawthorne #hannah rooney

[gyupremacy]

Parental Guidance | jhs.

↳ Pairing: jung hoseok x wife!reader

↳ Genre: smut, fluff

↳ Au(s): established relationship

↳ Word Count: 2.3k

↳ Rating: 18+

↳ Warning(s): cursing, accusations of cheating (reader's father towards Hoseok), fondling, oral (male to female), dirty talk

↳ Summary: Hoseok and your father don't see eye to eye. With your parents staying over for the weekend, let's just hope things don't get TOO tense.

↳ a/n: So... this fic was a spur of the moment thing that came from another idea for a Hobi fic that wasn't working out 😭. I hope you guys enjoy it because I was really excited while writing it from all the ideas that were flowing for it. I want to give a special thanks to @hobeemin for making this amazing banner and divider and @archivebysky for beta-ing.

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

"Hoseok! I already cleaned off the couch an hour ago. Why is there still stuff on here?" You called out to your husband, who was coming back from outside after doing yard work.

"Sorry, baby. I was just going through some demos that Yoongi sent me." He responded, coming up behind you with a hug and kissing your cheek.

You were frantically making sure the house was spotless for the next few days, as you put away his earbuds, notepad, and folded up the blanket from the hallway closet.

"Y/N, you look like a chicken with its head cut off. Why are you in such a hurry?" Hoseok laughed, watching you move around faster than the speed of light.

"Did you forget what today is?" You asked, seeing the realization finally hit your husband once he turns over to look at today's date marked on the calendar in bold letters:

PARENTS VISITING UNTIL SUN.

Your handwriting was unmistakable and so was the look of disbelief on Hoseok’s face.

"Your parents are coming over? Today? They are staying the whole weekend?" You swore you saw his eyes almost pop out of his head at that moment.

Hoseok's relationship with your parents was… complicated. Your mother absolutely loved him and made every effort in having a positive relationship with her son-in-law. Your father, on the other hand, was wary of your relationship from the get-go, seeing his occupation as the main source of contention.

The idol life is a hard one, being away from family and friends for long stretches of time. Being the wife of an idol had its own hardships, as the constant negative comments from "fans" proved to be an exhausting one. However, that didn't stop your relationship with Hoseok from becoming stronger.

"I know you and Dad won't see eye to eye Hobi, but they'll only be here for three days." You rub the small of his back to reassure him.

"Huh… I guess you're right. Just hold me back if he says something out of line." Hoseok said, which you hoped was a joke.

You were about to go back into the kitchen to finish the rest of the sweeping you had begun a while again, but were interrupted by the doorbell ringing.

Hoseok walked towards the door, where he was greeted by your parents. Your mother was smiling as she leaned in for a hug.

"Hoseok! It's been so long it seems. How have you been?" Your mother asked cheerfully.

"I've been doing great Mrs. Y/L/N! Been working a couple of songs and being with the Mrs., you know." Your husband laughed along with her, with your father watching on.

"Mom! Dad, you're here!" You rushed over to greet both of your parents.

You were so wrapped up in talking with your mother that you didn't pay attention to the cold glares that your father and husband exchanged with each other before entering the house.

"I was finishing getting the house ready for you guys right when you rang." You told your mother, sitting on the couch together.

The tension between Hoseok and your father was thick, the distance between either (figuratively and literally) was not helping them.

Besides the fact that he was an idol, your father also took opposition with the both of you getting married at a relatively young age. At the ripe young age of 20, you and Hoseok decided to get married in a small, intimate ceremony, with only his family and your close friends in attendance.

You didn't invite your parents due to your father's stance on you dating an idol, so the wedding went on. Eight years later, you always wondered what it would be like if they were there, daydreaming about what it would be like to be walked down the aisle by your father.

"So… how have you been Y/D/N?" Hoseok asked, not even bothering to turn in his direction to look into his eyes.

"That's Mr. Y/L/N to you, boy." Your father asserted, earning an audible sigh in return.

"Hey! Why don't I go make us all something to eat? You guys must be hungry from the long way here." You say in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

You got the pot ready with running water, soon grabbing noodles, tomato sauce, and cheese to make some pasta for everyone. You could overhear your mother having a conversation with Hoseok about a recent sale at her favorite store.

Hearing their exchange made you smile, reminiscing back to your sophomore year of high school when you first told your parents about Hoseok. He was your first real boyfriend and you wanted nothing more than for your parents' approval.

You came back to reality once you heard your father ramble on about how hungry he was, causing all of them to sit down at the table.

"Thanks for the meal, sweetie." Your mother said, watching you serve all of the food for everyone.

"Definitely, baby. The food is amazing." Hoseok beamed, pressing a kiss on your cheek.

"Oh please!" Your father mumbled under his breath (or so he thought).

You signaled your mother to do something to prevent him from going any further. She leaned over to whisper in his ear, and he looked down at his plate for the next few minutes.

"Honey, don't you think Y/N made a great meal?" Your mother spoke up.

"Yes, of course." Your father responded nonchalantly, still avoiding to gaze in your and Hoseok's direction.

The dinner remained silent until your mother perked up once again.

"So, when are you guys gonna have children?" Your mother mused.

You spit out your drink on the middle of the table and watch in horror at your parents' faces.

"Oh dear, is everything alright?" She said with concern laced in her voice.

"Everything's fine, Mrs. Y/L/N. It's just that with my career, we think that it would be best until the time is right to be fully involved parents." Hoseok interjected.

"I've never heard of a married couple of almost a decade not wanting to have kids. I guess someone's having trouble performing in the bedroom." Your father snarked.

You just wanted to curl up in a ball in the corner of the kitchen and cover your face at the thought of what you knew was yet to come. Hoseok balled his fists on the smooth surface of the table before banging them in frustration at his words.

"You know what, Y/D/N? I'm sick and tired of you always belittling me every fucking time you come to visit!" Hoseok said seething.

If your parents' shocked expressions weren't enough, your husband's increasing voice level was.

"Ever since the day Y/N brought me home to meet you, you've been nothing but a complete asshole to me! The only reason I still give a fuck about how you feel about me is the love I have for your daughter!" Hoseok paused to take a breath when it's your father's turn to speak his mind.

"Well, if it means anything, I'd rather have my daughter marry a businessman or a lawyer, not some rapper, who's probably whoring it up on tour." your father was about to unleash some more venom, with Hoseok in toe, until you finally grab their attention.

"Enough!" You yelled.

One after another, your mother's, father's, and husband's heads instantly whip towards your direction.

"What is wrong with you both? Do you not realize how much tension you BOTH have caused over the years because of this petty feud?" You folded both of your arms over your chest in an act of frustration.

"I've had it! You are two grown men acting little toddlers, and for what? Me? Squash this… NOW!" You rise up from your spot at the table without hesitation when Hoseok tries to stop you.

"Baby, wait!"

"I'm going to bed." You shrugged off his hand on your shoulder, marching upstairs.

Almost two hours had passed and things somewhat calmed down for the evening. Your mother was sound asleep, your father was in the kitchen grabbing something to drink, and your husband was drying his hair as he emerged into your shared bedroom.

You had finished your own shower minutes earlier, putting on a white silk nightgown, simply rubbing in your favorite body lotion.

"I always loved this number on you, Y/N." Hoseok said, creeping up behind you to lay a kiss onto your shoulder.

"I know. That's why it's so comfortable that I might just go straight to bed." You retort, moving to go on your side of the bed.

He sighs, truly feeling regretful for how the events at dinnertime unfolded. He took his spot on his side of the bed, leaning across to be leveled with you.

"Y/N… I'm really sorry for yelling at your dad during dinner. I was so tired of all the constant jabs towards me, but I shouldn't have acted like that in front of you or your mom." Hoseok begins.

"You mean the world to me. I hate it when you're upset and if that means I'll just have to suck it up when it comes to your father, I'll do it."

You sat there, taking in a deep breath, considering his words. He truly wanted to make amends with your father after all the years of animosity.

"Hobi, I appreciate your apology, but don't feel like you have to force a smile when it comes to my dad. I'll talk to him tomorrow, and hopefully, things work out between you both." You cradled his face, kissing him ever so softly.

"No, Y/N, let me talk to him. It's my responsibility to own up to my part in all of this." Hoseok insisted, rubbing his fingers over your knuckles.

"I love you." You whispered sincerely.

"I love you too, honey." He said.

You both lean in closer, feeling the rest of the world disappear around you. Your lips were captured by his, and soon enough, the tender and soft pecks became more swift and fervent.

Hoseok quickly moved his position, so he was now on top of you. He slipped his hand underneath your silk nightgown, taking the chance to grasp your chest.

"Even after all these years, you still somehow give me butterflies with your touches." You moaned.

One thing you loved about Hoseok (besides his kind personality and way with words) was his hands. Not too rough and not too soft, they were the perfect medium. His fingers were long and slender, perfect for tantalizing touches.

"That's just part of being a good husband. Making you feel as loved as possible and making you scream." He gives you the look of desire you're all too familiar with.

He brings the same hand he used to cup your chest down your torso, ghosting his fingers over your clothed womanhood.

"My parents are only a wall away." You warned, remembering how much of a light sleeper your father tended to be.

"Well then… I guess someone is just gonna have to be a little more quiet, angel." Hoseok winked, sliding your underwear to the side.

He stuck his tongue out to glide a stripe over your lips, causing you to lean your head back in pleasure.

"Fuck, you taste like heaven as always." Letting the praise go straight to your core.

He continued this, earning more moans from you. You ran your fingers through his silky, blonde hair, grabbing a hold of the back of his head.

"So, s-so good...!" You said in a hushed tone.

His movements became faster, and you began shaking from the wave of electricity between the both of you. Being so lost in the moment, you didn't pay attention to the knocking on the door.

"Oh shit!" You whispered out.

"I'm making you feel that good, huh?" Hoseok laughed.

"Yes, but Hoseok… the door!" You gestured ahead of you, watching it slightly creak open.

You ducked under the covers instantly, listening as your husband waited to see who was behind it.

"Hoseok, is it okay if I talk to you for a few minutes?" being met by the voice of your father, your heart started to race a mile a minute.

"Of course, sir." Hoseok responds almost timidly.

"Y/N's probably asleep right now, but I wanted to apologize for the way I acted during dinner. The comments I made about you and your relationship with her were inappropriate and uncalled for." He said.

During your entire life, you witnessed your father's stubborn ways, but rarely did you see him admit he was wrong.

"Mr. Y/L/N, I should apologize too for yelling at you and in front of Y/M/N. It's just, I don't know why you hate me so much." Hoseok stated.

Your heart almost pounded out of your chest at the sound of his words as you maintained your position under the covers. You spent many nights consoling him as he discussed his conflict with your father, but hearing him say the words to the man himself was almost surreal.

"Hoseok… I don't hate you at all. Y/N's my only daughter, and I don't want to see her getting hurt. Seeing how much you love her and how long you've been together, I know she's in good hands." Your father laughs a bit, soon joined by your husband.

"I appreciate it and accept your apology. Let's hope that these next few days can be peaceful and that we can develop a bond someday." Hoseok said.

They exchanged "goodnights" and the door shuts behind him when you rise up to be laying next to Hoseok.

"I'm glad you both made up. It was a long time coming." You mused as he positioned himself more comfortably.

"Yeah, it felt good to talk about everything, even if we’re so tired we won't remember it in the morning." He joked.

"Now that he's going back to sleep, do you think we can continue what we were doing before we were interrupted?" You bit your lip, still taking in all the satisfaction you felt earlier.

"Anything for you."

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

© gyupremacy, 2022. All rights reserved. 

#btshoneyhive #btscarnivalnet #wkcnet #jung hoseok smut #jung hoseok fluff #jung hoseok imagine #jhope smut #jhope fluff #jhope imagine #bts smut #bts fluff #bts imagine #gyupremacy

[tiptapricot]

Ok hc idea but what if Marc set up Stevens phone so that the voicemails to his mother actually went to him and maybe if Marc has a spare moment while fronting he'll sit with a coffee and just... Listen to Steven? Catch up with how his life is going and just feel close to him? Be proud of his boy for sticking up for himself against Donna or how he took a nice walk through the park and saw a cool bird?

This hurts me greatly.

NO BUT LITERALLY This is one of my favorite fandom headcanons because it like… makes sense. While I don’t think every one of Steven’s calls was to an actual number, I like the idea of him having his mom’s contact in his phone, or someone he believes is his mom’s contact.

Marc set up the apartment, we know that, since their mom absolutely wouldn’t have and likely never even went to England, and he’s also probably the one who sent Steven postcards. He’s done so much to build up this elaborate role to care for Steven through, because it’s his only way to interact with him semi directly while still staying in the background. And Steven’s life needs some structure to uphold its illusion, to keep it so that he can exist semi-normally separate from their trauma.

The real phone contact wasn’t their initially, I think, not at first. It was just the house and then the postcards (because Marc visited somewhere on a mission and thought about how Steven always mumbles about feeling trapped or never getting time off from work, and he thought maybe giving him a secondhand window into the rest of the world would help ease the tension. Which it did. And does. So he continues), but then Marc started noticing the calls.

Maybe Steven didn’t do them at first, maybe something about the postcards sparked his brain to talk to her again, put his mom back as a forefront relationship. Like… if she was sending him things, he should too!

Marc started out bitter about it. He’d drift near front and hear Steven chattering away like he was talking to an old friend and it made him feel… wrong, and he’d recoil and sink down so he wouldn’t have to hear it. But it kept going. It never stopped. And Marc started trying to linger close to front more frequently so he could hear about Steven’s day, but that ended up getting messy. His presence would make Steven spacey or confused because he was getting too close, their communication not really at the point of comfortable cocon at that point.

And Marc didn’t want to cause harm (which is what he’d see it as, as intruding on Steven’s life because he’s he only one of them who gets to have that and Marc has already taken so much all he does is steal, doesn’t he?), and so he came up with the contact. He wired it to a burner phone, one he didn’t use for anything else, and labeled it “Mum💖🐊!” and Steven started calling it seamlessly, rattling on to a number that never talked back, to an empty message line.

The messages are always cut off at the start, since Steven usually starts talking before it goes to voicemail, but Marc still gets enough. Steven will slip out of front after a long day, or Marc will push into control for a mission, and there’s something there waiting for him. If he doesn’t have a mission, he’ll sit on Steven’s bed and flip open the little phone, the screen illuminating his face in blue in the dark, and there’ll be a message or two waiting.

(“Hey Mum! You won’t believe it but today I had an amazing chat with a bloke at work…. Yeah! He was some type of exchange student, I think, agreed that tons of the junk we’re selling is inaccurate… Right? It’s a bloody relief that’s what it is. He was quite nice, actually, though I don’t think he’ll be coming back. Shame that. Leaving me stuck with Donna.” Laughter crackles over the speakers.)

If he does have a mission, he listens to the messages on plane rides, and in the back of jeeps, and in the steamy bathroom of a hotel where he’s trying to scrub the blood from his hands.

(“Hey Mum!” “Helloo!” “Mornin’!” “Love you so much, bye!”)

Marc holds the phone so tight to his ear sometimes he’s worried it’ll break. (But it won’t. It’s a nokia for a reason)

The messages allow him to keep tabs on pieces of Steven’s life he can’t be present for, make sure he’s still comfortable and catch any events that might run into time he has to be away. It can be a bit patchy sometimes, since Steven doesn’t always actually press the call button, doesn’t always actually talk to anything, but that’s ok. Marc’s gotten good at taking what he can get, at grasping at scraps.

He’ll answer sometimes, if he’s alone. Pretends like Steven’s talking to him for real. He’ll respond in the space of the blank pauses and hope the reply matches up alright, and sometimes he can almost forget he’s talking to a recording and not the real thing… until the usual “Lators gators!” Steven always tacks on to the end. That always makes Marc’s breath stutter.

It’s stupid. It shouldn’t. He isn’t really part of Steven’s life, not really, so he shouldn’t expect it to feel real. He’s forging a fantasy to step in by proxy, to give him access to information and… a voice. Someone to talk to, even if they aren’t really talking back. It’s close enough. He makes it work.

Sometimes he wonders, though, how close it is to the truth.

Steven says “Mum,” and Marc listens, and wonders how much he takes after her, if his voice raises the same way and carries the same force, if his anger would make others scared like hers did, if he drinks the same way she does, for the same reasons.

Steven says “Mum,” and Marc hears it, and eventually it gets hard to distinguish where the act ends and he begins.

“She” isn’t like this, not like he makes her out to be, not real, but he is. “She” didn’t leave a letter under the door with twisting letters and a reminder to eat regularly, but he did. “She” didn’t leave a little wrapped present for the mail desk to get to him, didn’t look through online pet stores until he found some suitably nerdy tank decorations, but he did.

“She” didn’t care for Steven, but Marc does.

And he’s not quite sure he can stop.

#what did this turn into? i have no idea #is it coherent? also no idea #ALSO SHOULD SAY totally don’t think of post Cairo when everything has been revealed #Steven looking back on everything he thought his mum did for him and just seeing… Marc #seeing him. seeing though the veil. seeing him for him and all his actions and all his care. #def don’t think about that #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #the fruit is talking again #the fruit is answering again #mikes mk meta #moon knight 2022

[snazzilystoopid]

GUYS WAIT JUST HEAR ME OUT...

What if I started a series about an AU where every ninja has a little sister? (So yes Nya and Kai "have a little sister")

OK YES

IM GONNA DO IT

STARTING WITH COLE OBVIOUSLY 🤭

(tw for sh!)

This gif makes me so sad I cant-

Libble "Lilly" Brookstone

Named Libble after her mom's best friend, Libber

(Yes I hc that Cole's mother and Jay's birth mother were besties)

Nicknamed Lilly because she looks exactly like her, they're basically identical apart from the fact that Libble has her dad's eyes

Her family sometimes give her the nickname "Libs" or "Libby"

(Most people acc call her Libby now)

She was the "naughty kid" and she ran away alot

Gave poor Lou lots of stress 😭

The moment Libble turned 13 (abt halfway through Possesion) she started to bunk off school and do stupid things (smoking, dr*gs, that sorta stuff)

She grew up WAY too fast

Like she rly didn't gave a shit abt Cole turning into a ghost or any of that until Day of the Departed

After DotD she had a much needed wake up call (still just age 13 at this point)

She didn't go and visit her home for the holiday and she realised just how much their family had suffered bc of Lilly's passing

So that night Libble cried herself to sleep in the crappy apartment she and her friends were camping out in

a) bc she missed her dad and big bro and b) because she knew she had seriously messed up

The next day she went back to school and finally started making an effort

She realised she really loved sketching and she also had a passion for programming/machinery/tech

She decided she wanted to pursue a career at Borg Industries before she mustered up the courage to go back to live with Lou

She apologised profusely and sobbed and begged for his forgiveness

Lou welcomed her back with open arms

Cole was skeptical of talking to her for a few days but after a week he ended up going back to visit

and he was the happiest he had ever been when he saw his baby sister had truly changed <33

They had a family dinner the following night catching up on things

During the one year gap after Hands of Time she continued to go to school and actually got an education, and regularly stayed in touch with Cole (since he was with Jay looking for Wu)

She met all the ninja just after March of the Oni and decided that Nya was her favourite (after Cole ofc)

After MotM, once Cole returned from Shintaro, his veins up his wrist/arms would sometimes pulse a faint orange. Libble liked to trace them and would always say she wished she was the one with elemental powers as a joke

By the end of Crystalized, Libble is 16!

Aaand that's her story!! Moving on to random facts abt her:

Unlike the rest of her family, Libble can't sing or dance to save her life

She'll stay up all night sketching and sketching and sketching

Cole often calls her "Libbler the Scribbler"

Whenever Lou and the Royal Blacksmiths have a performance, she always makes sure she's on the front row

She used to sh as "punishment" once she returned home, because she couldn't forgive herself for leaving her dad like that

Her classmates called her a freak because of the scars up her arms and the minute Cole found out he was PISSED

She hangs around Chen's Noodle House a lot, and she always orders the same thing: PUFFY POTSTICKERS

She smashed the TV in the monastery of spinjitzu once, because of Kai and Cole beating her in a video-game

Shes usually quite a calm and collected person, but she can also be really loud

Simillar to Lilly's locket, Libble owns a silver locket which pictures her and Cole in one photo, and Lilly and Lou in the other.

Thats all hehe, but I feel like I could've picked a better name, I had literally no ideas 😭😭

(Just to make things clear, each sister doesn't exist in the same universe, these are all gonna be seperate AUs!)

Hope yall enjoyed and I think I'll be doing either Lloyd or Kai + Nya next! <3

#lou brookstone #master of the mountain #lilly brookstone #lego ninjago #cole brookstone #cole hence #cole ninjago #lloyd garmadon #ninjago #ninjago fanart #ninjago fandom #ninjago fic #ninjago headcanons #lou ninjago #lilly ninjago #ninjago au #ninjago motm #motm

[stardustdreams-andcaffeine]

Prey | Bucky Barnes

bucky barnes x oc ✧ oneshot

Summary: OC and her brother are being hunted by the Winter Soldier to atone for the sins of their father. For reasons the Winter Soldier cannot explain, he finds himself helping this girl escape the very people he works for.

A/N: This is one of my favs, hope you all love it like I do! I always gravitate towards oc's but I've got some reader inserts to post as well. I have like 60 one shots already written so I'll be systematically editing and uploading them here, pls enjoy friends! Also, if you have literally ANY requests, ask it up! I love being of service 🤍

Warnings: oc, severe angst, violence, suspense, winter soldier bucky, mention of past abuse, protective bucky, fluff at the end

Word Count: 13,191

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

He's been hunting us for days now. 

I don't know why. I don't even know who he is. It all happened so fast, one minute I was sitting in my apartment with my closest and really only friend, the next I was getting a frantic call from my little brother saying a man had shot up the family house.

A man with a metal arm.

My little brother, Cody, has been living with my dad alone ever since I moved out. He's nearly 18 and fully plans to leave the moment he can. I tried to persuade a few social workers to let me become his legal guardian to get him away from that sorry excuse for a father, but my attempts were in vain. Even though I'm older than Cody, old enough to be considered responsible for his care, my father stood in the way. However awful our dad may be, he's a high-ranking government official and has power. There was no way he was going to let his daughter take his son away from him. 

In a way, I think he's lonely.

Our mother passed a few years after I moved out to begin my adult life. If she had died before and my father had begun acting the way he did while I was still at home, I never would've left Cody there alone. I did visit rather frequently, trying to deflect any scorn or more...physical reprimands onto myself as much as I could. Our star of a father just happened to be away on government official business when I got the call.

Now here we are, huddled together on the same bed of a grimy motel, my brother restlessly asleep with his head in my lap while I keep watch. He begs me every night to wake him up halfway through so he can take watch.

Every night I ignore him and let him sleep.

I haven't slept in two days, both of which we've had to constantly relocate and run away from the man with the metal arm. He always manages to find us, no matter how careful we are. Somehow, by a miracle, he hasn't managed to kill us yet. In fact, he has yet to get close enough to get a good enough look at us. 

The untraceable pay phone in my trembling, exhausted hand rings, the sound repetitive and hopeless.

"Come on" I whisper, biting my lip furiously, "Pick up"

Once again, for what must be the thirtieth time, my father doesn't answer my call. When I hear the phone tell me to leave a message, I decide that after this one I will call and leave no more. By now, I'm almost convinced that he's in on this whole thing.

"Dad, it's your daughter, Caroline Bane. Remember me?" I begin, trying desperately, and failing miserably, to keep the anger out of my usually quiet and anger-less voice.

"Oh and your son Cody Bane is here too. If it wouldn't trouble you too much, maybe you'd like to pick up your phone and realize that your children are being hunted," I spit out, keeping my voice low to not wake up my brother, "I know you never really cared for us, but mom did. I wonder, what would she think of you if she could see you now? Blowing off our calls and leaving us to die?"

I pause, trying to keep the tears that water in my hazel eyes at bay. I bite my lip hard to keep from crying, I refuse to let this man hear me cry. 

"I don't know what's happening, I don't know what we did or what you did but for once in your life can you be a man and own up to it instead of letting your kids take the fall?" I grit out, a tear managing to slip down my cheek despite my best efforts to keep it in, "Randall Bane, you are a coward. You never have been and never will be my father."

I end the call, a few more tears slipping down my heated cheeks. Never in my life have I spoken with such venom to any single person, but I know, I just know, that my dad's involved in this. All of my pent up disappointment and anger towards him and the way he's beat on both me and my little brother just spilled out. I wouldn't care if he only beat on me, if he only hit me and yelled at me I could take it. I'd be able to push through it. 

But no one, not even my father, has the right to hit my little brother.

My brother stirs lightly on my lap.

"Carrie? Everything alright?" Cody mumbles, his groggy voice heavy with sleep. I nod and smooth back his hair that's the same rich brown as mine. 

"Everything's just fine," I whisper soothingly, trying to keep the emotion from my voice, "Sleep, Cody"

In a few seconds, he's fallen back asleep peacefully. When he does, I feel a tear slip down my cheek. He's only a kid, he shouldn't have to deal with any of this at such a young age. In the time since our mom passed, I've been less a sister and more a mother to Cody. I was always there to smile and laugh with him, to joke around and play video games with him. I made sure he did his homework and didn't get into too much trouble. When he'd have break downs, I'd be there. When his heart got broken, I was there. When our dad tried to hit him, I stood in the way. 

I'd do anything to protect my brother. 

I smile softly down at his sleeping form and carefully slide his head off of my lap and onto the pillow near him. Then, I carefully climb off of the bed and stand, stretching out my aching muscles slightly. I let out a long sigh and walk towards the window nearby, cautiously moving the curtain the slightest bit to look out.

I'm not used to constantly living in fear. I don't like it, not one bit. Neither Cody nor I know how to use a gun or even a knife properly. Obviously, we can give it our best shot but up until now it's been pure luck that we've stayed alive. We've managed to drive away or hide before the man with the metal arm could find us. If he had managed to get any closer, we surely would've been dead. We tried calling the police, but the officers who came were dead within minutes. Now, I have no clue what to do. I don't know how much longer we can run and hide. I don't know how much longer my luck will last.

I'm just about to step away from the window and close the curtains when something catches my eye. A large, black SUV swerves into the parking lot silently and only a single man steps out. Once I see a flash of metal, I jump away from the curtains with my heart in my throat. My pulse begins to race and adrenaline immediately floods every fiber of my being. Intense fear strikes to the very depths of me as I scramble to figure out the best escape plan. 

First, I have to wake up Cody.

I sprint over to the bed and clamp a hand over my brother's mouth to keep him from making a noise. Then, I shake him awake. He starts with a gasp, his hazel eyes matching mine flying open in a panic. When he turns to me, he relaxes only slightly. I put a finger to my lips, to which he nods. When I remove my hand, I speak hurriedly and in whispers. 

"He's here, we have to go" I rush out, scrambling around the room and grabbing our already packed backpacks. As he jumps out of bed and does the same, a few gunshots can be heard in the distance. We both freeze, looking at each other with wide eyes.

No doubt he got our room number out of the man at the front desk, who is no doubt dead now. I don't have time to dwell on the immense flood of guilt and terror that inundates me, but rather begin to shove my brother towards the bathroom and hand him both of our bags.

"There's a small window in there, get it open and get out" I command, looking up at the window just large enough to fit a body through. Cody begins to do as I say, but pauses to look over at me as I look around for any sort of makeshift weapon I can find.

"What are you doing? Aren't you coming?" my brother asks, his wide eyes locked on me. I snap my gaze up to him, sympathy pouring through me at his fright. 

"I'm gonna buy you as much time as I can, now go." I order, finally managing to pry off a bar from the wall and moving out of the bathroom.

"Caroline wait, please!" Cody calls to me, emotion thick in his tone. I spare him one last glance as he works on the window.

"Don't wait for me, get in the car and find a safe place. Please, Cody. Please just listen to me" I beg and before he can protest, I slam the door shut. Just as I do, I hear footsteps outside our motel door. 

My stomach lurches at the sound and I sprint towards the door, my mind racing for a solution. I stand right beside it, the heavy metal bar trembling in my hands. When the man with the metal arm opens the door, I plan on hitting him as hard as I can with the bar. Hopefully, by the time he gets past me and to the bathroom, Cody will be gone.

Even if it takes my life, my little brother will get out of this.

A crash sounds from the bathroom, signaling Cody has broken the window. My relief is short-lived when only a second later, the door to the motel room bursts open. Fear grips my heart but I don't freeze. When the man with metal arm walks into the room, his eyes survey the empty area in the belly of the room as the door shuts behind him. Holding my breath, I move from my blind spot by the door and swing the metal bar as hard as I can at his head. It slams into his skull, but not as hard as I'd like. I'm nowhere near strong enough to knock a man as big as him unconscious.

The man is sent off of his balance, lowering his gun slightly as he recoils from the hit. I take the advantage and move to hit him again, but just as I'm swinging, he whirls around and catches the bar mid air with his metal hand. I freeze, my eyes wide with fear as the bar bends in his metal grasp. His eyes lock onto mine for a moment and I realize that it's the first time I've been this close to the man with the metal arm.

His eyes are blue, a bright, intoxicating blue I've never seen. The kind of blue that makes me stall for a moment.

From what I can see, he doesn't seem near as old as I thought he'd be. It perplexes me that someone so young could be so incredibly lethal. His long, dark hair hangs dangerously around his face, covering up what little the mask that goes up to his nose doesn't. Within a moment, my examination of him is over as he rips the bar from my hands and throws it aside. Then, just as he's about to shoot me, a small curse of pain comes from the bathroom.

My world stops.

Cody must've been cut by some glass on his way out, and I feel the walls begin to close around me. The man looks over towards the bathroom and back to me slowly. I begin to shake my head.

"No, no! Please!" I beg, but he crashes the butt of his gun against my cheek and sends me sprawling to the floor. 

I groan in pain and look up to see the man with the metal arm stalking toward the bathroom. My heart lurches and I find the strength to force myself to my feet. I sprint over, the world swerving only slightly as I do. Just before he reaches out to open the door, I shove myself in between the man and the thin wood hiding my brother. I brace my arms on the doorway, making myself a sort of blockade. 

"Leave him alone, please!" I shout, my hair hanging wildly and some parts falling into my eyes, "He's just a kid, he's a kid."

This seems to make the man with the blue eyes pause, but only for a moment. He begins to reach out to throw me aside to get to my brother before he makes it out of the window, so with a racing heart I blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind.

"If you have to kill us kill me! Please kill me, not him!" I shout, beseeching the assassin. 

The man freezes, his eyes widening slightly. He wasn't expecting that.

"He's a kid, please! Kill me, not him. Kill me." I repeat, the words loaded with desperation. I can only hope and pray that Cody is at the car about to make it away before anyone else who might be in the van sees him. 

As my desperate eyes stay locked onto the man's bright blue ones, I furrow my brows as I catch the slightest bit of hesitation. Who is he?

In the silence of his conflicted, shocked eyes burning into mine, I hear the revving of a car engine and tires screeching as a car drives away. Relief like I've never felt it pours through me, flooding every fiber of my being. The car is enough to bring the man back to his senses, and he throws me aside before shoving his way into the bathroom. I hit the wall and quickly rebound, looking into the bathroom over my hunter's massive body and smiling when I find it empty. 

He's safe. 

Outside I hear car doors open and about a dozen more feet pounding up. My heart drops as I realize that he's not alone. Thankfully, the guards, at least that's what I'm assuming they are, didn't follow Cody but now they're outside the room. The man, now beyond furious, walks over to me and grabs me by the throat, slamming me so hard into the wall that my bones creak. I gasp, fear spiking through me as his raging blue eyes lock angrily onto me. I know the spot where his metal hand grasps will bruise.

"Where is he going?" He growls.

Surprise curls through me, I've never heard him talk before. The sound is dark and gravelly and sends shivers down my spine that I don't understand. Or maybe that I don't want to understand.

"I don't know" I answer truthfully, my voice rasping from the lack of breath because of his grip on my throat. He pulls me away and slams me into the wall again, making me cry out in pain this time. Outside, I hear the clicking of more guns, and I know that if a miracle doesn't happen, I'm going to die. 

Better me than Cody, though.

When I look back into the eyes of the metal-armed man before me, I remember the conflicted gaze from before, the way he froze. He's human, somewhere beneath the assassin's mask. I just know it. Deep in his eyes, in a way I can't explain, I see pain and brokenness and a humanity long shoved away. I know it's my best chance.

"Please, I don't know who you are but you obviously know me. I didn't do anything wrong, I know you know that," I plead, my voice barely above a whisper as his vice-like grip on my throat only tightens, "Please help me, please" 

Again, there's that same hesitation that gives me hope. His metal grip loosens ever so slightly.

"Why'd you do it?" He grits out, surprising me.

"I'm sorry?" I ask, confused as to what he's asking. 

Outside, one guard pipes up.

"Asset, is it secure?"

My eyes widen and I feel my fear spike yet again. Asset? Does this man not have a name?

"Why'd you try and sacrifice yourself for the boy?" He grits out, his hand on my throat now barely squeezing.

"He's my brother," I say simply, my wide eyes locked onto his, "I'd do anything to protect him."

"We're coming in" another voice calls out. I look towards the door and back to my assassin.

"Please help me." I whisper one last time, my voice broken and charged with emotion. 

I don't know why he does it or why I'm so incredibly surprised when he does, but he suddenly pulls away from me and shoves me behind him. I stumble, not knowing what he's about to do.

"Hold on and stay behind me" He commands, making hope spark in my chest. I do as I'm told and cower behind the large, muscular man. 

Then the door slams open and the bullets begin to fly.

I hear the ricocheting of bullets against metal and hear my assassin fire only twelve shots. Each must find their target because silence rests over the room. I step out from behind him to see twelve guards dead on the floor. My stomach lurches, nausea overtaking me as my wide, fearful eyes take in the carnage. 

"Don't make me regret this," he lowly warns, grabbing my arm and tugging me out of the room, "We have to move."

He drags me out into the black of night, the only light coming from a lamppost or two and the sliver of a moon above us. I'm in shock as the man who's been hunting me for the past few days drags me along to a random car, saving my life. My eyes inadvertently go to where my car used to sit and I can't help but smile at the empty spot. I turn back around and see the man with the metal arm breaking into a car and hot-wiring it. My eyes widen.

"What are you doing?" I ask, surprise curling through my voice. He looks up at me sharply and I close my mouth, knowing it's better to not fight with him. After all, he can kill me at any moment. When the car revs to life, I hop in the passenger seat as he gets into the driver's seat and drives away while I'm still putting my seatbelt on. 

For the first few moments, there's nothing but the humming of the engine and my own breathing. With his mask still on, I can't even hear his own breath. Finally, as I steal a glance at the side of his face, I make my terrified tongue move. 

"Where are we going?" I ask, my voice shaking. I can't help it, though. This man did try and murder my brother and I repeatedly. 

He doesn't even look over at me. The metal of his arm gleams dangerously and keeps me on high alert. All he has to do is pull a gun out and point it in my direction. Although this was most definitely not the smartest choice, it was my only choice.

"Somewhere safe" he responds simply, his voice gravelly and low. I bite my lip in nervousness and look forward. Another heavy silence settles over the car and after what must be fifteen minutes of quiet driving, I can't help but ask the burning question in my mind.

"Why are you helping me?" I ask softly, looking over at the man.

This time, he does look over at me, however briefly. His eyes meet mine and I can see a sort of war in them, as if there's two versions of himself he's fighting between. The black mask is still set on the lower half of his face so I can't truly gauge his emotions. He looks back forward, his grip tightening on the wheel.

"I don't know." 

I have yet to receive one straight forward answer from the man beside me, so I ask him the one question I feel like he could answer.

"I'm Caroline by the way, but I'm pretty sure you know that," I begin, trying to hide the panic in my voice, "What's your name?"

This time, I see more emotion flicker across his eyes that stay locked onto the road. This time, when he answers, I know it's as straight forward of an answer as he can possibly give me.

"I don't know," he almost whispers, his voice sending those same shivers down my spine. 

Sympathy curls in my chest for the man and I can't help but wonder what he's been through. For the first time in two days, for the first time since I ran from the man with the metal arm, I feel this insane curiosity to figure him out. What scares me more is that with him on my side, even though he could easily kill me in a multitude of ways, 

I've never felt safer.

|||

We drive for around six hours before the assassin finally pulls up outside an abandoned warehouse. I should've slept, but I was too terrified to let my eyes slip closed, afraid that I'd wake in containment or not wake at all.

"We should be safe here, but not for long. Just long enough to figure things out," he informs, the most he's spoken yet. 

I nod and get out of the car as he does, my entire body still on alert. I walk side by side with the man and bask in the intense heat coming off of his body. In the brisk temperatures outside, I can't help but feel grateful for it. When we step inside, the warehouse is dark and dingy with an odd smell and consistent dripping noise. Still, I'm not the slightest bit picky.

It's safe, and that's enough for me.

We walk into a separate room in the center where a few old, rat-eaten blankets sit and a makeshift fireplace rests in the corner. I go inside, not entirely sure what to do. The man walks in after me and, much to my surprise, pulls off his mask. I guess I should've put together that he'd have to take it off eventually, but it still sends shock curling through me to see him set the black mask down. He bends down to the fireplace, his back to me.

"Grab some of the wood in the corner, we need some heat if we're not going to freeze" the man orders. I don't argue, still wholly terrified of him and the things I have witnessed first hand that he can do. I walk over and grab the wood and bring it to where the man crouches. I set it down and stand somewhere beside his crouched form, not right next to him but close enough so I'll be near the fire when he gets it going. 

As I watch him build the fire, my mind goes back to what the guards called him. Asset, as if he didn't even deserve a name. As if he were an object. If this is all because of my dad, which I'm certain it is, then I can't imagine how he came to tangle himself with people like my hunters. The fire sparks to life after a few minutes and the man stands, satisfied at the flames. When he turns to me, I get my first look at the man's entire face. Shock courses through me as I take in the sharp, stubbled jaw and his angular face framed by his long dark hair.

He's hands down the most stunning man I've ever laid my eyes on.

I don't have much time to dwell on his sheer gorgeousness, though, because I see something deeply familiar. I furrow my brows, looking deeper into his face. He looks at me in confusion, not knowing what I'm doing. I know who this is, I've seen his face before. Then, like a load of bricks, it slams into me. Sergeant Barnes.

Bucky Barnes.

I saw his monument in the museum on a field trip way back in high school. The Bucky Barnes, Captain America's best friend. He's supposed to be dead. Stranger things have happened in the past few years, though. My hazel eyes widen and my lips part slightly in shock.

"You're Bucky Barnes" I breathe out.

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I watch his eyes widen slightly and something spark deep inside of them. It's almost as if he knows that name but it's just outside of his reach. This makes my intrigue spike. What's happened to Bucky in the past decades to make him into a cold killing machine who doesn't even know his own identity.

"What did you just call me?" He asks, his voice angry but also hinted with confusion. With the way his haunted, darkening eyes sear into me, I lose some of my confidence.

"Y-you're James Buchanan Barnes. Captain America was your best friend back in the-" my words are cut off when his metal hand grabs my shoulder and shoves me into the wall behind me. 

My panic spikes painfully as he clenches his jaw and glares deep into my eyes. I can feel anger radiating off of him, but I can tell it's not directed at me. In his eyes I can see that the name sparked recognition and I think it bothers him that he can't figure it out. Still, I can't keep the fear from my face.

"I don't know who the hell that is" he growls. I nod hurriedly, trying desperately to not die after making it so far. 

His broken blue eyes burn into mine, clearly seeing my terror, and I watch a part of them soften. Immediately he rips his hand away from me and steps back, running a hand through his hair. A tortured look melts onto his face and he lets out a deep breath, not even able to look over at me. Carefully, I step away from the wall, my intrigued eyes on Bucky. 

Whatever happened to him messed up his mind. I can't help but feel like someone did this intentionally, that someone is manipulating his mind. The Bucky Barnes the museum described was flirtatious and light-hearted and heroic. The man before me is quiet, murderous, and broken. I can't help the sympathy that floods into me again. My head tells me to get away from him, but the way he practically stumbled away from me when he realized he was scaring me convinces me, against my better judgement, to go with my gut.

To stay.

After all, he might be the person who can kill me easiest, but he's also the person that can protect me best from people who want me dead for reasons I don't understand.

"I'm sorry," I softly say, making him snap his wide-eyed gaze up to me. 

"Why are you sorry?" He asks, making me squirm under his intense gaze. I shrug, playing with the ends of my hair.

"Someone should say it to you," I respond, making something in his eyes change. 

Not able to hold his intense gaze anymore, I look down to the fire. All at once, I feel the exhaustion from the past few days rush over me. My adrenaline is gone and I feel like my body is made of lead. 

"We should check the perimeter" Bucky announces and I nod, looking up to find him checking a handgun and settling it in a holster, "You can take the south and I'll take the north"

I force my legs to move, but find the world swimming around me. The sleep deprivation is tearing me apart, but I can't let it show. 

"Okay" I manage out, able to take a few steps before my tired legs give out and my exhaustion takes over. 

Before I can hit the floor, I feel a pair of strong arms catch me, one flesh and one metal. Bucky helps straighten me up and I force my half-closed eyes to open. It takes all of my energy to do so as my mind tries to force me into a state of sleep. I can see a vague look of concern on Bucky's face as his eyes systematically search my body for blood or a wound. When he sees none, Bucky looks back up at me with furrowed brows.

"When was the last time you slept?" he asks, and I find my tongue lead-filled when I try to speak. I look over to see sunlight streaming into the warehouse and turn back to look at Bucky, who is holding all of my weight.

"I think that makes three days," I respond, my words slurred and groggy. I watch Bucky's eyes widen as mine try to slip closed again. 

I hear him sigh and release my waist to pick me up, one hand under my knees and the other on my back. I just let him carry me, already half-asleep when he sets me down in front of the fire and puts one of the blankets over my body. 

"Why haven't you slept?" he grinds out, crouching down beside me. In my tired stupor, I find my words coming out with much less of a filter.

"You were hunting my brother and me, remember?" I announce, yawning at the end and letting my eyes slip closed, "He slept, I watched"

Those are the last words I manage out before sleep tugs me under. Beside me, Bucky stands with a sigh, his burning gaze lingering over my peacefully sleeping form before stepping out to do the perimeter. What I don't know is the way inside, guilt crawls up his throat. He doesn't know what really made him choose to help me, he just saw the innocence in my eyes and couldn't bring himself to kill me.

That was the first time he'd defied a HYDRA order.

|||

"Why were you hunting us?"

It's been a few hours since I woke up and the sun has long set, bringing back the brisk temperatures. Bucky and I sit near the fire, but still worlds apart with him on one side of it and me on the other. At my question, I watch a muscle in his jaw tick. He looks up from the knife he'd been twirling to look at the fire.

"Your father was my original mission. When I brought him in, he asked my employer to make a trade," Bucky announces, looking over at me with the slightest hint of sympathy in his cold eyes, "Spare his life, take you and your brother's."

It should surprise me, but after the second day of running and unanswered calls I figured as much. Instead, I simply clench my jaw and look over at the fire to hide the way my heart splinters in my eyes. He may have been an awful father but he was still that—our father. At the very least I thought that would mean something to him.

I was wrong. 

We sit in silence for a while, only the crackling of the fireplace filling the room. With every minute that Bucky is away from whoever his employer is, he seems more and more aware of himself. Still just as terrifying and just as brooding, but aware.

"Wanna talk about it?" he suddenly asks.

Now this surprises me. I look over at Bucky with slightly widened eyes to find him staring at the fire. He looks back at me, and for the first time there's not a trace of anger there. For a reason I can't explain, my stomach jumps at the look and I have to keep myself from falling into his rich blue eyes. I sigh and look down at the floor.

"Randall Bane was probably the worst dad you could ask for." I focus intently on my lap, biting my lip at the sudden rise of emotion within me, "Him setting a kill order on my brother and I? It should surprise me more than it did."

I don't tell him of the way I was beaten while shielding Cody or the way if I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, a cigarette was put out on my skin because it was more convenient. I let out another sigh, willing the burning emotion in my throat to go away and looking back up at Bucky. To my surprise, he's still looking at me. I give him a small smile.

"How about you? Wanna talk about it?" I ask, hoping deep within that he'll open up to me. 

I don't know why I want him to so badly.

This time he sighs and looks over at the fire, a far away look in his eyes. 

"The longer I'm away from them the clearer my head gets, but it's like there's this fog around it that I can't shake," Bucky informs, shaking his head and clenching his jaw tightly, "I don't know who I am, but I know the things I've done. That's what haunts me."

A shudder runs through me at the thought of all of the horrible things someone has made him do. While watching the pain run rampant through his features, a part of my heart breaks for him.

"Well, I don't know everything you've done but what I do know is that you saved my life and chose not to kill me even when I'll bet someone forced you to. If you're asking me, that counts for something." I interject. He looks over at me, his broken, fragmented gaze making a part of my heart crack again. 

"Can you tell me about...well, what you know about me?" He asks reluctantly, that conflicted gaze back. Somewhere inside it I see a bit of hope, though. I smile softly and nod.

"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, but everyone just called you Bucky," I begin, telling the man before me the story of his life, "You fought in World War II and did a lot of good. And from what I hear, you were quite the ladies man."

At this, the corner of Bucky's lips pulls up into a smile that lasts briefly, but however brief it was it was there. The sight makes me smile, and immediately I have a desperate need to see that smile again.

"You were best friends with-"

"Steve" he interrupts, a far away look in his eyes. Shock pulses through me. 

"I guess you know a little more than you thought." I whisper, the ghost of a smile on my lips. That half smile is back again and with it the butterflies. 

"You can call me Bucky," he suddenly states, looking over at me with those intoxicating blue eyes, "I promise to not throw you into the wall this time."

I can't stop the surprised laugh that breaks out of my mouth and nod, looking over at the soldier who just made an actual joke. 

"Only if you call me Caroline," I bargain, one eyebrow lifted. He nods.

"Deal."

"You should get some sleep, I'll keep watch," I inform out of habit, knowing that he'll need his rest if a fight comes. His eyebrows furrow and he looks over at me incredulously.

"Caroline," He begins, and I can't help the way my heart jumps at the sound of my name coming from his lips, "You don't need to protect me."

I stare right back, a determination set in my eyes.

"Everyone needs protecting sometimes." I respond, my words soft but unyielding. Something unreadable passes through Bucky's gaze, something that makes my heart lurch. Finally, he sighs and lays down, knowing I won't give in.

"You better wake me up in three hours. Otherwise, I just might shoot you." 

A smile quirks onto my lips as I stare into the fire.

"Somehow, I doubt that."

|||

My sleep is deep and dreamless, the kind of sleep your body slips into when it's overly exhausted.

As per Bucky's request, I did in fact wake him up three hours later. Now, as I sleep, I relish in the piece of my unconscious mind.

Until I'm startled awake from it.

"Caroline!"

I gasp awake at the shout of my name, shooting straight up to see Bucky crouched down beside me. 

"What's happening?" I ask, panic tight in my voice. He offers me a hand that I take gladly, letting him help me up. 

"They've found us, they're outside right now" Bucky grits out, checking the gun in his holster before walking over to a wooden box in the corner that I hadn't spared much thought on before. He shoves it open and pulls out a large, heavy-looking gun and loads something into the front before walking over to me.

"What is that?" I ask, a slight tremble to my tone. He looks over and sees the blatant fear in my eyes. He must remember my reaction to the bloodshed from before, how unsettled it made me, because a part of his tough face softens.

I've never watched anyone die before. I've never even seen a dead body outside of a funeral before. The movies and the shows and the true crime podcasts, none of them come close to the guttural feeling of seeing the life drain from someone's eyes. All of this, it's too much at once. 

"We have to get out of here, this is our best shot. My employer doesn't like it when I disobey."

Bucky voice is a rumble in the chaos of the warehouse, and I find myself clinging to the odd sense of security it brings me He walks out of the room and into the open area of the warehouse, the gun slung over his shoulder. I scramble to follow him, but stop short when I see what must be fifty men with guns raised, prepared to come in.

"Bucky" I breathe, my eyes going wide and fear dripping through me. Two to fifty, even for the assassin beside me that's a little much. Bucky looks over at me, but my eyes are trained outside. He spares the armed men a glance before jogging up to me.

"Winter Soldier, come out now and we will not kill you." a voice booms, probably over a speaker.

Bucky uses the hand that's not holding the terrifying gun to turn me to face him. I do, my wide eyes locking onto his oddly soothing ones. 

"If we're gonna make it out of this alive, you've got to trust me," he urges, his eyes not leaving mine even when the voice on the speaker gives him his final warning, "You've protected everyone else, let me protect you. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, doll."

My heart leaps at the nickname he uses, and I don't know why but it makes it hard to think straight when he says it. His promise to protect me does exactly what it was meant to do. The sincerity in his eyes makes me believe he's telling me the truth. 

I trust him. 

I try not to let it show how much that promise really means to me. My entire life I've been the one to protect. Protect Cody from my dad, protect Cody from the grief of losing mom, protect my dad from losing his job and going to jail. For once, someone wants to protect me. It sparks something in me that I've never felt before.

"I trust you" I whisper, nodding to him. His eyes search mine for a moment more before he nods. 

"You're not gonna want to look at this," Bucky breathes before using his flesh arm to lift the gun and using the metal one to tug me suddenly into him. He holds me tight to his torso as if to shield me from whatever is about to happen, both physically and visually. 

Then I hear the world explode.

I don't need Bucky's iron grip on me to keep me close to him, because once I feel the heat of an explosion and the sounds of men screaming, I bury my face as much as I can into the shoulder of the black vest he's wearing. I feel him swivel us around and hear another shot before another explosion erupts. This one rattles my teeth and makes me hold onto Bucky a little tighter instinctively. 

Then just as fast as it began, it's over.

I hear a gun clatter to the ground near me and silence settles over the smoking warehouse. The heat of flames still burns in the distance and even though I know that it's over, I can't bear to look. My entire body is shaking and I hate for feeling so out of control of my fear, but it's not easy being thrust from a mundane life into one flooded with blood and explosions and guns, as much as the movies would like to persuade us it is. 

"It's over, Care. You can look" Bucky says softly. 

Slowly, I pull away as he lets the grip of his metal arm ease. Around me, flames lick up the ceiling and front wall of the warehouse where the only remainder of the armed men is the cars and the blackened body parts that I'd rather not look at. I bite my lip and run a hand through my hair, nodding to try and come to terms with the carnage before me.

"Alright, what's your plan from here?" I ask, my voice still trembling but firmer than I expected. Bucky looks over at me in surprise. I furrow my brows at him.

"What is it?" I ask, to which he shakes his head quickly and looks down before looking back up at me.

"Nothing, it's just you're one of the strongest people I've ever met." He announces. This time, I'm the surprised one. Bucky sees the shock in my gaze so he gestures to the mess around him.

"I've seen grown, trained men experience this and cry. You're made of tougher stuff, Caroline," he tells me, nodding to me as if to show he respects me. I go to refute his words, but stop. I guess if I didn't realize how strong I really had to have been the past few days.

The past few years. 

I go to respond when my eyes widen on something behind Bucky. A person, laying on the ground but raising their gun towards him. Panic shoots through me and I act without thinking.

"Bucky, look out!" I shout, scrambling in front of him just as the armed man shoots. 

The sound of the gunshot makes the confusion in Bucky's eyes clear away and he doesn't waste a second ripping his handgun out and firing a single shot, managing to nail the man right between the eyes and making him slump to the ground. I'm not paying much attention to it, though. 

The second the armed man shot, an intense fire exploded in my torso. Now, as he's dead and Bucky's turning back to me, I can't see the expression on his face because my eyes are too focused on the blood seeping between my hands that I press firmly to my stomach. Slowly, I peel them away to see blood gushing out of my stomach, the pain almost unbearable. I look up at Bucky, my eyes wide. 

His are wider.

There's an unbelieving look in his eyes as Bucky realized what has just happened, what I just did. 

"Bucky," I manage out, before my world swoops and my knees buckle. 

"Caroline!"

He rushes forward and catches me, not wasting a second to scoop me into his arms as if I weigh nothing. One of my hands that's pressed against my stomach falls, hanging down as he swiftly carries me back to the room we were in before. Bucky clears off a table in the room and sets me down on it. My head rolls to one side, the blood loss already making me tired and weak.

"What the hell where you thinking? Why would you do that?" Bucky asks, his voice tight with panic as he rummages around and grabs what he needs to help me.

"He was going to shoot you" I respond, my words slurred. I hear a number of things clamber onto the table and feel the bottom half of my shirt peeling off of my skin and being cut off to expose my bloodied torso. 

"You should've let him" Bucky reprimands, pressing a cloth to my torso that must be covered in alcohol because my skin begins to burn painfully. I cry out in pain, clenching my fists and squeezing my eyes shut.

"It's okay, just breathe. You're gonna be fine," Bucky soothes, keeping the cloth pressed for a few more moments and using his other hand to brush away my hair from my face. Oddly enough, the motion does calm me down.

"I don't have any painkillers left, so this is gonna hurt doll," He warns, moving his hand and the cloth away. I bite my lip and nod as much as I can.

"Okay, okay," I breathe, trying to prepare myself for what's about to come, "I trust you"

His hands freeze at my words and I'm guessing he's still not used to hearing them. But I mean them, I mean them more than I ever have in my life. 

Then I feel a pair of metal pliers go into my stomach.

I don't stay awake much longer after that, the excruciating pain much more than my mind can bear. I'm glad for the unconsciousness when it comes and I already feel my throat is raw from screaming.

|||

When I wake up, I'm in a car again. 

Night has fallen yet again, telling me an entire day has passed with me unconscious. I stir, sitting up slightly only for an intense ache in my stomach to make a groan rise from my lips. Bucky looks over at me, tearing his eyes away from the empty highway to me. When he does, I smile softly at him.

"Hi" I greet, watching as a small smile pulls onto his lips and he turns forward again.

"Hey," he responds, his metal hand on the wheel and his human one resting, "How are you feeling?"

I place a hand to my stomach and try again to sit up, this time successfully. I nod, running a hand through my wild hair.

"Pretty good, all things considered" I inform, my eyes taking in the scenery as we pull off the highway and move towards what I assume to be a rest stop.

Good, because I'm hungrier than I think I've ever been. 

"Alright, I'll get us some food. Stay in here and lock the doors" Bucky instructs as he pulls into the parking lot of the first gas station we see. I nod, not needing to be told twice to follow his orders. 

I lock the doors once he steps out, a red hoodie on and a baseball hat pulled low on his head. I feel my heart jump at the sight, seeing him as a normal guy bringing an oddly attractive edge to Barnes. I shake my head and look down at my lap, trying to ignore the inexplicable attraction and pull that I feel towards him. 

My mind flows over to Cody, and I can't help but be the slightest bit nervous. I hope beyond everything that my diversion was enough to let him get somewhere safe. I can only hope that he's still safe. Being this far away from him and not knowing whether or not he's okay makes anxiety sit in the center of my chest. 

My thoughts are interrupted by the rapping of knuckles against my window. I jump, but only slightly. It's probably Bucky back quicker than I expected. When I look up, though, my heart lurches into my throat. My eyes widen only slightly at the foreign man standing outside my door. He looks normal enough, but I've gotten into such a habit of looking over my shoulder that I know better than to trust him.

"Hey, can you help me with something really quick?" he calls to me through the glass. 

Not knowing how to respond, I simply shrug and pretend like I can't hear him. My heart is hammering in my chest as I point to my ear and shrug, watching as the man sighs and looks towards the store.

He's looking to see where Bucky is. 

Panic overtakes me and I immediately cast a quick look around the front of the car while the man is still looking at the store to see if I can't find anything to defend myself with should he smash my window. I look to the ignition to see Bucky took the keys, probably to keep anyone from smashing into his side and driving off without me. Then, just as I'm about to go into a full-blown panic, I catch the gleam of black metal underneath the driver's seat. 

Bucky must've put an extra gun there.

I quickly look away and back at the man outside just in time for him to look back at me. Underneath his feigned politeness, I can see agitation and desperation.

"I could really use your help with my car, miss. It won't start" he calls out again, this time louder since I told him I couldn't hear before. Knowing I have no excuse this time, I improvise to the best of my ability. 

"Okay!" I respond, smiling at him through my adrenaline and 'accidentally' drop my phone at the bottom of the driver's seat. I look down towards it and feign an embarrassed smile.

"One sec" I call back, to which he gives me the fakest smile and nod. 

He's growing impatient, I can sense it. He knows I know. I drop down as fast as I can and wrap my hand around the gun underneath the seat. The feeling is foreign to my hands, but I don't let it bother me. I swing it up, grabbing on with my right hand too just as my window smashes open. I gasp at the sight of the barrel of his own gun aiming for me. Thankfully, my gun is already raised and, with bile in my throat and trembling hands, I pull the trigger before he can shoot me. 

The recoil makes my teeth chatter and the noise booms across the empty parking lot in front of the gas station, making my ears ring. Something warm splatters all over me, and a distinctively crimson liquid sprays the shattered window of the car. In front of me, the man stumbles back, clutching his shoulder and letting his gun clatter to the ground. My eyes go wide, my mouth filling with bile.

I'm going to be sick.

I hold in my nausea as the man stumbles to his car and gets in, driving off as fast as he can. Just as his tires are screeching on the pavement to receive medical attention at a hospital, at least I hope, I see Bucky shove open the doors to the gas station, panic heavy on his features. His eyes catch on the car speeding away and I watch concern flooded with a touch of desperation and anger flood his face. Bucky snaps his gaze to the car and sprints toward it, skidding to a halt and trying to open his door only to find it locked. 

I'm in such a daze that I can't seem to remember to unlock it. My eyes are locked onto the blood that's splattered on my hands, some of the warm liquid on my face. The gun in my hands trembles, but I'm snapped out of my trance when I hear someone run around to my side of the car, the side with the smashed window. On instinct, I gasp and point the gun again only to find Bucky staring at me with wide eyes.

"It's me! It's me, you're safe!" he urges, reaching in through the now open window, making sure to avoid the shards of broken glass and unlocking the doors. Bucky swings open my door and bends in front of me, his eyes flying over my body and looking desperately for an injury.

"Are you hurt?" he asks, looking up at the blood that's on me. His blue eyes are heavy with concern, but my trembling hands and wide eyes can't seem to focus on anything but the gun in my bloody hands.

"It's not mine," I manage out, referring to the blood on my body. The gun shakes as my hands do, tears welling in my eyes that are locked on to it. A pair of hands, one warm and the other cold, grab onto my trembling ones and gently pull the gun away, casting it into the back of the car. 

"Caroline," Bucky mumbles, his voice sending shivers down my spine and his hand sparking warmth on my freezing skin when I feel it cup my cheek and turn it so I look at him. His eyes soften at the look upon my face.

"I shot someone," I whisper, my voice quivering as I do and my vision blurring with tears, "He smashed the window and pulled a gun on me and I shot him"

I know and so does Bucky that I did the right thing, but my stomach is still churning. I know the man will be okay, the wound didn't look too serious, but I still shot someone. His metal hand comes up to the other cheek, both hands now resting on my face soothingly. 

"It's okay, he was driving away, that means he's going to be okay. You did the right thing, Caroline" He assures, rubbing his thumb over the skin of my cheek.

I nod, knowing he's right and trying to force myself to snap out of it. 

"Alright, we have to go before someone comes looking for us again. We can stop at another exit" Bucky informs, taking his hands away and shutting my door only to jog around to his and get in. 

I can't help but feel cold and empty without his touch, whether it be metal or human. As the car starts and we pull out of the gas station and back onto the highway, I feel Bucky looking over at me periodically. My eyes are locked onto the highway, though, and not a single thought is bouncing through my mind. 

Before I know it, we've pulled off at another exit and into another gas station. When Bucky turns the car off and gets out, shutting his door behind him, I feel a bout of panic begin to set in. He's going to leave me again, He's going to leave me alone in-

My door opens and I look up to see Bucky standing outside of it with his hand outstretched to me. 

"This time, I think it's best if you came with me" he states, making my panic dissipate and relief flood in its place. I nod and gingerly put my hand in his, trying to ignore the way sparks immediately soar where our skin touches. Bucky helps me get out of the car, my stomach screaming in pain when I move. Eventually, I'm out and walking with Bucky towards the gas station.

He keeps my hand in his.

The bell above the door chimes when we walk in and Bucky immediately leads me to where the bathrooms are. He casts a quick glance around to make sure we're not being followed this time before leading me inside the men's room. He shuts and locks the door once he's in and checks to make sure no one else is inside, making a bit more of my panic release as we have the entire place alone. 

"Here, let's get you cleaned up" Bucky says softly, grabbing my waist gently and setting me as cautiously as he can on top of the counter so I'm just above eye level with him. 

For the most part, besides a light tremor in my hands, I've stopped shaking and calmed down. I didn't kill him, only hurt him. Still, though, I fear that moment will be burned into my brain for a while. 

Wordlessly, Bucky grabs a paper towel and wets it. Then, he grabs my right hand and gently begins to rub the man's blood off of it. I sit silently, watching him work. He moves on to the other hand, wiping it clean quickly. All the while, I feel my heart hammering in my chest, not because of fear or anxiety or nerves or even trauma.

Because of something else I can't explain.

When he lets go of my hand, his blue eyes turn up to my hazel ones and he leans forward, bringing the paper towel to my cheek. The material is rough against my skin, he moves it so gently that I hardly even notice it. His baseball hat is still on, keeping him from getting too close to me. 

In a way, I'm grateful and disappointed because of it.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the blood is gone. His fingers, though, linger for a moment longer on my cheek, making butterflies erupt in my stomach.

It's crazy to think how only two or three days ago, Bucky was hell-bent on killing me.

When his hand finally drops, he gives me a small, close-lipped smile.

"There, it's all gone" Bucky states, making me smile softly in return.

"Thanks" I respond, looking down at my now clean hands. Surprisingly, the sight does wonders to ease my mind and heart about what transpired tonight.

"Now, we can get some food and then head ou-" Bucky's words die out. 

I look up, my eyebrows furrowed in confusion. My confusion only intensifies when I see his eyes locked on my arm. Slowly, as if he's scared to touch me, he lifts the sleeve of my shirt and I take in a sharp breath.

There, on full display, are the cigarette marks left by my father.

I look over at Bucky, my eyes wide only to find his jaw clenched. He's hardly moving, hardly breathing, as his hand reaches up to gently trace one of the marks.

"Who did that to you?" Bucky nearly growls. I open my mouth to deflect, but choose not to. It would be harder to ignore it than just simply tell him the truth. I sigh and look away from his gaze and to my hands. I can't bear to look at him when I speak again.

"My dad really was the worst you could get," I offer, keeping my eyes on my hands as emotion rears into my tone, "It started when my mom died. Cody would call me and tell me that dad was getting physical, and I..."

I pause, trying to keep the tears from my eyes as I look back up and over Bucky's shoulder to the wall behind him. 

"I couldn't let him get hurt. I forced him to text me whenever dad would get angry and I'd come over and..." I let my words die out, not even wanting to say it aloud, "Like I said, I'd do anything to protect my brother"

Carefully, I bring my eyes over to Bucky's. My heart skips when I see the unreadable look sitting in them. He takes my hand in his, making my mind ease and my heart race.

"Just when I think you're done amazing me, doll" he breathes, making my stomach flutter. Our eyes stay locked for a moment more before he reaches out and helps me down from the counter, setting me carefully back to the floor.

"Just so you know," Bucky begins again, placing a burning hand at the small of my back and looking over at me as we walk to the door to the bathroom, "I can't promise I won't kill your father if I ever see him again"

I don't know why, but the statement makes a smile tug at my lips. I guess, for the first time, I feel truly protected and cared for. As we walk out of the bathroom together, I nudge him slightly.

"For his sake, let's hope you never meet"

|||

"I've thought of a place we can go"

Bucky's words pull me out of my thoughts of Cody. The empty food wrappers sit in the backseat, long eaten. The sun is beginning to rise, and with it is the hope that I'll survive to see the next sunrise. I look over at him, intrigue filtering my gaze.

"It's risky, especially since I'm still not fully remembering who I am, but it's our best shot" he states. Just by looking at the man beside me, I can tell he's scared to do whatever he has in mind.

"Bucky, whatever it is. I'll be right here" I assure, surprising myself with the words. I didn't realize it before now, but I'd much rather be with him than without him. He looks over at me and smiles before turning back to the road.

As he works up the courage to say his plan, I furrow my brows at the 'Welcome to New York' sign that we pass.

"The only people who can really protect us and even help us find your brother are the Avengers." 

My heart jumps and I can't help the excitement that floods into me. I look over at him, my eyes wide and bright. He smiles at the happy look on my face and continues speaking. That smile...

That smile of his undoes me.

"It gives me a chance to reconnect with Steve and see if I can't figure this out and they have the best resources to find your brother" Bucky informs, making the both of us happy.

"I think that's the best idea yet, I really hope you can figure everything out" I wish, smiling softly at Barnes. He looks over and smiles.

"Me too"

We drive along for a while, getting closer and closer to the location of the Avengers Tower. In the few bits of silence where we're not talking, I can't help but wonder what's going to happen when we get to the Tower and I get my brother back. Eventually, my assassin and I will have to part ways. I don't know why, but the thought of that leaves a hollow hole in my chest.

Maybe I do know why, but I'm too scared to admit it.

Before I know it, we're pulling up to the tower with a large A on the front. When we park, I look over at Bucky.

"You're probably about to freak some people way out" I warn, picking up his hat and setting it low on his head, "You might want to keep your head down until the moment's right"

He nods at me, offering me a small smile before looking over to the massive tower with a deep breath.

"You ready, doll?" 

I nod, biting my lip at the thought of finding Cody.

"Ready"

We step out of the car together and walk into the Avengers Tower, all the while receiving some pretty strange looks from people walking by. I gather up my courage and walk up to the front desk where a woman sits typing away at a computer. Bucky stands beside me, his head down.

"Hi, can I help you today?" the woman asks politely, looking up at me and Bucky. 

This is it.

I draw in a deep breath and nod, returning the woman's polite smile.

"Yes actually, we, uh, we need to see the Avengers" I inform, knowing full well how absolutely absurd that sounds. That's like walking up to the White House without an appointment and telling someone that you need to see the president. 

The lady gives me an odd look, one that she sends over to Bucky and then back to me. My heart is racing and I'm hoping beyond everything that she'll just let us in to see them. 

"I'm sorry, but you need an appointment for that" she informs, looking back down at her computer.

"I don't mean to be rude ma'am, but we really need to see them. It's urgent and I promise you it's not nothing" I continue, making the woman look up at me skeptically. She studies my face before sighing. 

"Alright, but you have to get cleared to go up. We don't allow outside, unauthorized weapons or sharp metals" she informs, waving over two guards with metal-detecting wands to check us.

My heart goes to my throat. This is not going to go very well. Bucky and I share the same nervous look as they approach, and beside us I can hear the lady making a call upstairs to let the Avengers know that they have people visiting.

We won't even make it to the elevators though.

"Hold out your arms, please" the guard who walks up to me asks. I do so, letting him scan his wand over me. Within a few seconds, I'm cleared. I look over to Bucky, who holds his arms out too and gives me a nervous look.

The second the wand goes near his arm, it begins to blare. The second guard's wand begins to beep at his hip, signaling a gun. The two guards jump back, both drawing their guns and pointing them at Bucky. 

"Woah, woah! Calm down!" I shout, jumping in front of Bucky and holding my hands out.

My heart is racing and I can tell Bucky is anything but happy that once again I've put myself between him and a gun. 

"Show us your weapon!" one guard yells, making a tense emotion flood the room. Off to the side, I can see the astonished clerk make another call and speak frantically with who's on the other side. 

"Just calm down, we don't want to hurt anyone" I try again, trying to keep the panic from my voice. 

Then, to my surprise, one of them shoots.

I gasp at the sound and immediately prepare to be shot again only for Bucky to step in front of me and use his arm to deflect the bullet. The sound of metal hitting metal resounds in the room and the silence following the gunshot leaves everyone in silence. I look up at Bucky in shock, his metal arm in front of me. He looks over his shoulder at me, his slightly concerned eyes searching mine to make sure I'm okay. I nod slowly, knowing full well that I should be shot right now. Once he sees that I'm unharmed, the glare in his gaze tells me I'm going to get a lecture later on not putting myself between him and bullets.

"Put your hands up or I swear I'll shoot again!" the guard shouts, making me jump. 

I grab onto Bucky's arm that's in front of my body out of instinct, and he keeps it assuredly in front of me, ready to deflect any more shots.

"Just listen-" Bucky begins, but the guard shouts again.

"I mean it, now!"

"Alright, would everyone just take a chill pill for a second?" the voice of Tony Stark announces, making hope flood through me. 

I look over to see Tony emerging from the elevator, his hands held out in front of him as to calm the situation. Behind him, I see Natasha Romonaff and Steve Rogers follow. When I see Steve, I can sense the shock that rolls off of Bucky. I look up to him to see his jaw clenched and his eyes on his best friend. His hat is lowered to hide his face.

"What's going on here?" Nat asks, looking over at us with curiosity in her eyes. 

"We just want to talk to you all, please" I inform, my eyes going between the three Avengers. 

They all look at each other before looking back at me. Steve steps up, his shield in hand.

"Who are you?" he asks, and I know now's the time. Bucky must too because he slowly lift his gaze so his face is on full display.

"You're Steve, right?" Bucky asks, his voice clouded with confusion. 

The shield drops from Steve's hands. I watch pure disbelief pull onto his features as he takes in his best friend that supposedly died all those years ago. 

"Bucky?" he breathes, almost afraid that this won't all be real.

"Hey man" Bucky responds, his hand lowering from in front of me as we both understand that our danger is over. Tony looks over at him incredulously.

"As in Bucky Barnes? Isn't he...you know, dead?" Tony asks, to which Nat elbows him sharply.

"Supposed to be, but that's not how things worked out" Bucky responds. That's when Steve steps forward, almost unsure of his movements.

"His mind is a little lost, he needs help figuring it out" I inform, making sure Steve is aware that Bucky's memory isn't fully there. Steve stops in his step and nods, not being able to stop the smile that grows on his face.

I watch Tony send a look towards Steve before stepping up to us.

"Of course we'll help, we've got some of the smartest people in the universe in here" he informs, making me laugh. Tony sends a look between Bucky and I.

"And you can bring...I'm sorry, what's your name?" Tony asks me. I smile.

"Caroline"

He nods and turns back to Bucky.

"You can bring Caroline along," He states, making more relief pump through me, "I don't think everything would go very well if you didn't"

And then, just like that, we're on our way up the tower.

|||

"So, he was hunting you because your father traded his life for you and your brother's?" 

I nod at Natasha, who sits with Steve and I just outside the lab where Bruce Banner and Tony are checking out Bucky. Sympathy is drawn across Nat and Steve's faces.

"He cornered us in a motel and I stalled enough to let my brother get away. I don't know how, but I managed to get through whatever mind manipulation they used on him to get him to help me." I continue, sighing and running a hand through my hair, "We've been on the run since then"

"Thank you," Steve suddenly says, making me lift my gaze to his, "For bringing Bucky back, he's the closest thing to a brother I have"

I smile softly and nod.

"Of course"

Nat and Steve share a look before Steve speaks again.

"And it's because I know what it feels like to lose a brother that I want to ask if you want us to help find your brother? I know it's scary, not knowing where he is or if he's safe" Steve says, making my entire face light up. 

"That would be so amazing, you have no idea" I rush out, bringing a smile to Nat and Steve's faces.

"Cody Bane, right? I'll get right on it" Nat says before standing and walking away. 

"I've been more a mother than a sister to him through all of this" I inform, looking down at my hands and back up at Steve who watches me intently, "He's a tough kid. He doesn't give up easy"

"Neither do you, I'll bet" Steve responds, looking at me knowingly. 

I look over at the lab, managing to see in through the glass and watch Bucky get blood drawn and tests done. As I do, my heart tugs. Once I get my brother back, I'll have to leave him. In the past few days we've been together, I've found a connection with Bucky that I've never had with anyone before. 

Now I have to leave him.

"Have you told him yet?"

At Steve's sudden and vague question, I look over at him with my brows furrowed. He smiles knowingly at me and casts a look towards his best friend.

"How you feel, have you told him how you feel?" Steve clarifies, making my heart jump into my throat and my eyes widen. I immediately begin to shake my head.

"Oh, no I don't-" I begin to ramble, but Steve cuts me off with a light laugh.

"Don't worry about it, Caroline. Out of every girl Bucky has ever been around, he's never looked at any of them the way he looks at you." Steve informs, making my lips part slightly in shock at the very thought that Bucky could feel the same pull that I do. I don't have time to respond when Nat jogs back in with a tablet in her hand.

"Got him, Cody Bane is alive and well, hiding out at a police station in NYC" Nat informs, setting the tablet down to show the camera feed, "Smart kid"

Relief like I've never felt it floods over me. I look at the screen to see my brother sitting and messing around with an officer's things in the middle of a police station. I laugh, tears of pure joy making it past my defenses and slipping down my cheeks.

"I contacted the department, they're gonna transfer him over in an armored vehicle and police escort. He'll be here within the hour" Nat informs. I nod, standing and throwing my arms around the woman's neck. She gasps in surprise.

"Thank you" I whisper.

She smiles and hugs me back. When we pull away, she nods to me.

"Anytime"

"What's the celebration?"

At the sound of Bucky's voice, I whirl around. He looks calmer than before and intrigue lights up his features when he sees the happiness on my face.

"Cody's alive. He'll be here soon" I inform, not being able to stop the smile on my face. I watch a smile pull on his lips as well.

"Yeah? That's great, Care!" he exclaims. Quickly after, though, I think it hits us both that within the hour, when my brother gets here, we're going to be splitting up. The other people in the room must notice it too.

"Let's give them a moment to talk" Bruce suggests, leading everyone out of the room. Once they're gone, I look back to Bucky with a sad, conflicted smile.

"I guess this is it" I announce, trying to keep the crushing sadness away from my heart, but it's impossible. Bucky lets out a sigh, his blue eyes locked onto my hazel ones.

"I'm gonna miss you, doll" he states, walking up and pulling me into a hug, "Thank you...for everything"

I let out a shaky breath as he does, wrapping my arms around his neck and letting his warmth relax me. This time, when a single tear escapes, it isn't for Cody. We pull away eventually and our eyes lock, my heart skipping when they do. 

"I hope you figure out everything" I say, to which he nods but has the most serious look on his face I've seen in days. Our faces are inches apart and I can hardly breathe. The pull that I have to him is so intense that I want nothing more than to close the gap between us.

I don't, though.

Being this near to him is too painful, so I step back and run a hand through my hair. I don't even say anything else, too scared that if I do my feelings will be blatantly clear in my tone. Instead, I just turn around and begin to walk away. I make it a few steps too until a metal arm closes around my arm and pulls me back. I stumble as I turn around, confusion in my face. 

"What are you-"

My words are cut off when Bucky keeps his metal hand on my waist and brings his other one to my cheek and crashes his lips to mine. Instantly, I melt into him. My skin feels as though it's been set on fire and yet I can't seem to burn hot enough. His grip on me tightens as his lips work against mine with a desperation that steals my breath. This kiss alone is enough to make me realize that I'm falling fast and hard and it's going to hurt like hell to leave him.

When we finally pull apart, Bucky rests his forehead against mine, his hair tickling my face as he does.

"I know I'm not the man I was before, but-"

I cut him off this time, pulling away so he can see the sincerity in my gaze.

"I'm falling for the man you are now, not the man you were then." I whisper, my heart slamming in my chest as the words leave my mouth. His eyes widen slightly at my confession

"Caroline, you deserve so much better than me" he rasps. For just a moment, I think he's going to say goodbye, and my heart begins to tremble.

Bucky must see the crestfallen look in my eyes because he brings his metal hand up to cup the other side of my cheek so he holds my face. He stares down at me with such intensity that I feel my legs turn to jelly, and I have to tighten my hold on him to stay upright.

"Don't think for a single second that I don't want you," he whispers, making my heart jump, "Now, I'm not as good at the love thing as I was back then but-

"Love?" I interrupt, my eyebrows raising suddenly at his choice of words.

Bucky fumbles with his words for a solid minute before he finally gives up and decides to just press his lips gently to mine, taking my breath away yet again. When he pulls back, he rubs one of his thumbs across my cheek and says his next words with such conviction that my stomach explodes into a thousand butterflies.

"Stay," Bucky suddenly says, his eyes searching mine, "Stay here, we can protect you, I can protect you."

That's all I wanted him to say, that's all I wanted to hear. For someone, for him, to ask me to stay. I smile softly up at him and nod.

"You couldn't get rid of me if you tried"

Bucky smiles and places another quick kiss to my lips.

"Looks like I've still got it"

I laugh, leaning my head against his shoulder and letting the safety and warmth wrap around me.

It's crazy to think that only a few days ago, I was his target, his prey.

And here I am, falling in love with my hunter at a heartbreaking speed

#bucky barnes #bucky x original character #bucky x oc #marvel #mcu #avengers #angst #fluff #oneshot #bucky oneshot #bucky barnes oneshot #the winter solider

[connoisseursdecomfort]

Is Anya unrealistic

I never thought I’m going to write this but... I have no hate on any other shows. This is just a personal observation about kids, and let’s agree to disagree.

I just find it unfair to call Anya unrealistic. Mostly because all stories have to contain a certain level of realism to make it relatable. The only part unrealistic is that she is a telepath. The realistic part is that even if you tell a child every single thing that is in your head and try to explain why it is so, chances are the child will not understand, because have you ever tried to reason with a child by laying out facts made as easily understood as possible? (Stupid teenager me had.) That is where the comedy comes from. Obviously telepathy doesn’t really make Anya understand more about people. Her constant misinterpretation on people’s thoughts and words is literally play for laughs in both the anime and the manga. Endo made it clear that she doesn’t understand much despite the amount of thoughts she hears.

You would hear/read that quite a lot of people say Anya is quite believable as a 4 or 5 year old. They see Anya on other children, and more importantly they see echoes of their own childhood on Anya. To a certain extent Anya has to be realistic enough to be relatable, even for children. There’s a poll in Japan asking primary students who they admire the most. Anya came third, while "friends” and “mom” came first and second.

I’m not going to say Anya is an ordinary child due to her experiences, but then she’s an anime character. Most often even in the most SoL of SoL shows there has to be something extraordinary about the characters for them and/or the show to stand out. That’s why I find it unfair to say something like, oh this child sounds more like the children I know so the other child is “unrealistic”. Let me give you some of my examples.

A. I babysat a child. She’s four. It’s not that her parents don’t want her, but there are some complications so she’s currently living with a relative. It is apparent that the relative she’s living with loves her very much, and they are very close. She will soon go back and live with her parents. She is energetic, but she understands your reasonings and instructions and is very well-behaved. She doesn't really mess around.

B. I was walking on the street. A child, most likely 4-5, was throwing a tantrum. The mother threatened to count to three and if he didn’t stop there will be consequences. When the mother counted to two, the child cried even louder. The mother never counted to three.

C. My cousin is thirteen years younger than me. Our families are very close and we would have gatherings every week. When my cousin was a small child, she was shy but stubborn. She’s a tiny bit spoiled but overall well-behaved. She’s never a noisy child.

D. My younger brother, on the other hand, is the polar opposite. Loud and energetic. Very cunning and dramatic. My brother obviously knew he’s cute and smart. That doesn’t mean he can’t be the sweetest kid in the world.

There are many more examples but I’m not going to bother you with that. The point is, they are all kids, but they are all different. You won’t find a parenting book that is universal enough to solve all your problems. It could be useful for your first child but could be absolute trash when it comes to your second-born. Because they are inexperienced tiny human-beings being shaped by circumstances while growing up.

Admittedly, Anya is a calmer child. But then she was experimented on and abandoned four times. From my own observation, children know, and they learn from their experience. Remember the four-year-old I mentioned? After she visited my house, my mom was talking about that little kid, and commented how “all children test your limits by pushing your boundaries.” Even when they are four. Children are not dummies. They learn from your responses to their actions. Not saying that they will not ever mess up once they know where your limits are, but they do try to do better according to the reactions of others.

What I appreciate about the children in sxf is that Endo gives them different personalities and goals. Most often reactors to the show would say something like “that’s so Becky” or “that’s Anya being Anya” instead of “yeah, kids”. I see my six-year-old self, who watched way too many soap operas and tried hard to act like an adult but was way too dramatic, in Becky. I also see myself in Damian, because I remember myself working hard to gain my parents’ attention.

(But then a lot of people did say I acted more grown-up than others. That still doesn’t mean I was “mature” tho.)

They are not defined by their childish behaviours. I think I saw a comment stating the reason why the person think Anya’s a good child character, and it’s because children are still human-beings but with very limited experience. Endo did a good job in trying to show you Anya’s thought process. Anya behaved like that not because Anya is a child and all children do that. Anya thinks before she acts but she still acts like a child because of her own (limited) experience and child logics and misinterpretations. Like all other children, she understands very little, and that’s why she acts like the gremlin she is.

So yeah. There are people who don’t like kids, and there are people who prefer other child characters over Anya. I get it. But em, no, you don’t need to do that to Anya, or Endo, or people who have worked/are currently still working on the sxf project. They have their own vision they want to share with the audience, and they have their own experiences with kids, too. You really don’t need to say things like, my show or the characters I like is realer than yours. That might not even be the point, but still.

Like what you like. Focus on the positives about the characters you like. And have a nice day I guess.

#spy x family #anya forger #to be honest I basically only follow the sxf tags #this has appeared on my feed way too many times #saying a character is unrealistic is an attack on the author and the audience who can relate to the character #just google unrealistic characters to see for yourself #you don't need to major in literature or film to know that

[unohanabbygirl]

Your newest story!! Omg!!

Aegon I looking down from Targ heaven with Luke like…ye let’s wrap this up…our involvement in the long night is cancelled.

Rhaenyra and Helaena ending the same way on the spikes. Oh I know Alicent went from visiting her in her chambers every night (unwanted) to sleeping in Rhaenyras chambers long after she was gone.

I understand he needed to get rid of threats but now he won’t have an heir at all. I can’t imagine him taking well to anyone implying Luke can’t give him his heir however. So people are just waiting for him to die. Like the realm will tear itself apart to try rule after him. He really is mad.

Is Anne’s mam really still seeing Alicent as this paragon of the Seven and blaming Luke on aemonds shit?? The call is coming from inside the house sis. Alicent directly fanned the flames of this obsession. Luke was a corpse at the tourney right? Or is that pre-stormsend?

Do you see Lucemond as canon in this fic or is this delulumond in full force?

Thanks so much for sharing with us!!

Aegon I is so fed up after seeing each one of his descendants wiped out while the last man standing has lost his mind to such an extreme degree that he’s violating his other descendants corpse. Visenya is pissed off that Aemond’s gross hands are touching all over her sword and Rhaena is just like “damn, maybe we shouldn’t have come to Westeros.” Meanwhile Luke is sitting in the corner trying to figure out how all this happened? Rhaenyra keeps trying to console him but he’s too busy attempting to string together the events that led to his uncle becoming this damn crazy.

Babes, if Alicent was going to do anything she was going to seek Rhaenyra out nightly. Even though there came a point where Nyra stopped screaming and crying and just went radio silent until hearing the news about her last two babies deaths and deciding there was nothing left to live for. Alicent is so in love and exceptionally delulu just like her son that in her mind, Rhaenyra only jumped out of that window because she knew it would hurt her. Most insane mother-son duo in history me thinks.

The chances of Aemond having an heir are zero at this point. There’s not even a chance that Dany will be born to bring back the dragons because that dude isn’t laying down with anyone but Luke, you hear me? And its not even just because his shattered mind somehow thinks he can simply have a baby with Luke/refuses to cheat on his queen, but that no woman would ever sleep with him knowing what they do. They’d likely off themselves before they could even make it to the sept (very understandable)

Though this won’t stop his council from trying to work out something behind Aemond’s back. It comes to the point where one of his men is like “what if we drug him with an aphrodisiac and try to find a noble lady who’s willing to…you know? Then kill him after the child is born in secret? Twins are common for them so we might have an heir and a spare or a future king and queen.” But the idea is so outrageous with so many plot-holes and chances to go wrong that everyone just slowly begins to accept the war that’ll break out over the crown once Aemond croaks. Only thing they can do is hope they’re long dead once that time comes because the thought of another civil war is so draining.

In a last ditch effort his hand goes digging around with hopes that at least one of the deceased Targ men have a living bastard that they could legitimize but comes up empty handed. All Aegons died tragically, Jace was obviously too busy in Cregan’s company to go out and sire a child, Daemon only had Nettles who they can’t even confirm was his daughter + she’s been missing since the war, Daeron was a nerd who would rather pray at the sept, and Viserys could barely wipe his own ass in his last days let alone find the energy to cheat.

It’s heartbreaking when you think about because literally everyone, including Alicent is just waiting for Aemond to go to sleep and never wake up.

Lol, Anne’s mom is my favorite because she’s somehow more obsessed with Alicent than Alicent was with Rhaenyra which is such a hard thing to accomplish that she kinda deserves a medal?? Her character is simply an embodiment of parasocial relationships and viewing the monarchy as these figures who are above everyone else. Appointed by the gods and all that nonsense. And yes, the tourney was pre Storms end!

Hmmm, personally I see it as a mix of the two. Lucemond had feelings for each other (Aemond more than Luke) but never actually acted on them let alone reached the extent of what rumors suggest. Though certain points like them meeting up before the dinner failure to talk things out did happen but without the ‘making love’ part. However those are just my own thoughts because I intentionally left those details up to the reader.

Thanks babes, I always love hearing from you 🩷

#asks #we need more insanemond #like totally off the rails

[cleoselene]

my mother - who is 74 - walks a neighbor's dog twice a day to make some money. No it's not a difficult job, but still. She is 74 and had planned all her life to be very much retired right now , but she ended up with one very sick kid (me) and one shithead kid (my brother) who strained her finances -- me by her needing to help me with housing (she took out a mortgage on her place to help me get my condo. My roommates and I pay rent to her and never miss a payment but with HOA fees and insurance constantly going up in Hurricaneland, and both me and roommates on fixed Social Security incomes, the ends don't exactly meet) and my brother by being a fucking asshole loser who refused to have a fucking job.

The man has three kids, two who are still minors, and he REFUSES to work. This is one of many reasons he is divorced (of course, his ex-wife cheated on him literally hundreds of times, so there's that mess too, but that's another story), because my ex-SIL got sick of him never having a fucking job. Once the divorce was final and he didn't have his wife supporting him, he turned to the only other woman he could rely on to pay his way: his mother. My mom didn't want to pay his rent every fucking month for three years, but she loves her grandchildren, and she wanted them to have a father.

Because her children didn't have a father. My dad dipped out when I was ten because he was a drug addict. My mom lives with that guilt all the time, always apologizing to me for not giving me a better father -- as if that's her fucking fault! She was a rock star of a mom! A single parent, a social worker who didn't have much money but her work genuinely made the world a better place. But she feels awful that her kids' father ditched out on us. And my brother knows she feels awful about it. And he exploited that. For literally years. She went from comfortably retired to now having a lot of credit card debt because she paid his rent for 3 years.

When she finally put her foot down as his lease ended and she was no longer a cosigner, he moved in with his girlfriend in Manhattan. She is 23. He is 48. Yeah, it's disgusting. He is leeching off her now. He is also not talking to my mom since she's not paying his way anymore (I mean, she IS paying for his fucking iPhone, though, more on that in a moment).

So. Christmas. She hasn't heard a word from him. She hears some news from my ex-SIL that the kids are going to fly up to NYC to spend a few days with him, which, as much of an asshole as he is, she is glad for, because she wants her grandchildren to have a father. But he hasn't called to wish her a Merry Christmas

So I mentioned her part-time job. For the former congressman whose dog she walks. Lovely, sweet people. They gave her a couple of gifts and a $50 Christmas bonus. Mom sent that $50 to my brother as a gift. He did not acknowledge it or even say thank you.

I am OUTRAGED on her behalf, honestly. She has done nothing to deserve being treated this way by him. And I am depressed that I am stuck being a sick kid who is also a drain. I was supposed to get a PhD and take care of her! Failing being able to make it rain for mom I just wrote her a sappy long facebook message telling her how she's the best ever, but god. Why is my brother such an asshole?

She told me yesterday that when I visit next she wants to go through her will and redo it. She wants to give him a token amount, a few grand, and reassign the rest of what she would have given him in her estate to his kids. It's unfortunate, but it is what it is. She deserves better. :/

#tbd later maybe idk probably? #fucking brother is such an asshole #i do not acknowledge him honestly #i am an ONLY CHILD #an only child with a niece and two nephews don't ask me how it works lol #because his kids are actually really sweet

[angry-trashcan]

"if this sounds needy" fool (affectionate) you've activated my trap card. You've only motivated me to ask for the Ceres Lore Dissertation

Tell me everything, I need details so I can ask her and you to marry me

Luna. You have no idea what you've just done. I was cooking when I got this ask and have been thinking about how I'm gonna respond since I saw it. When I'm done, you can ask me (or Ceres I guess) to marry you and I will say YES.

Okay. I'm just gonna give a few fun facts about them before we deep dive into her lore.

Ceres goes by she/they

Absolutely LOVES to bake

Cannot read

Cannot aim to save their life (literally)

Favorite color is light blue

Fell for Twilight first (but will never admit that to the rest of the Chain)

Is pansexual

Favorite flower is a magnolia blossom

Favorite meal is Venison stuffed peppers

Loves animals!

Has an old hunting dog as a pet at home

Okay. Now for her actual backstory, I can't believe I've never shared this publicly omg. (THIS IS SOMEHOW 3K WORDS LONG I JUST SPENT TWO HOURS WRITING IT ENJOY)

It seems as though Ceres' life was bound to tragedy before she even took her first breath. Her mother found out she was pregnant with them at only 17 years old. Unwed and with no hope to take care of them alone, she told Ceres' father of the pregnancy. That was the last night she saw him. Rumor is that he is living in Castle Town.

Ceres' mother, Rene, had no other choice but to be a single, teenage mother. With only the help of her own mother and a few people from town, Rene built a small house outside of the village. The house was small, but modest and only a short walk through a grove of magnolia trees to her mother's house.

It seemed as though things were looking up for the mother and daughter. A small home, help from a carrying grandmother. But things took an abrupt turn when Ceres turned four.

Per village tradition, at four years old every child begins school. The school consisted of basic things, such as reading and writing, but it also taught the core values of the village: hunting. Sitting on the edge of Ordon, the village was in the middle of the woods, surrounded by thick foliage and even thicker trunked trees. The only way for the village to survive was through their age-old tradition of hunting.

Rene had other things in mind for Ceres.

Ceres was to stay at the house and assist her mother. At home, she learned to cook, clean, sew, bake, and other tasks of the such. Anytime Ceres would attempt to go to the village to see other children or simply to visit, it was shut down quickly and harshly. "If you go then they will take you from me." or "You don't want to leave your mother here all alone, do you?!"

So, Ceres stayed put. Watching the trees loose their leaves and the magnolias bloom in the late spring.

Her grandmother was her only saving grace.

The only place Ceres was allowed to go was to her grandmother's. It was there that they learned the old ways of the village. How to braid her hair into intricate styles littered with flowers. How to pull the sweet nectar out of honeysuckles. The light-footed dances celebrating a hardy hunt. The way to keep fae away by keeping the apple pie out of the windows.

When Ceres was ten, her mother brought home a man. He introduced himself and their mother seemed happy for a time. Until the day he didn't come back, and her stomach grew with each passing week.

Ceres' brother, Jayco, was born shortly after. He had bright blue eyes that mimicked their own with a wild head of dark curls. She adored Jacyo. He was her baby brother, her new friend, her only friend. That changed quickly.

They became his primary caretaker. Bathing him, changing him, feeding him, even being called mom by the toddler before their own was. She was exhausted. Any attempt for peace at their grandmother's was shot down, "I need help with your brother! You know I can't do this alone!"

And so, she stayed.

When Jayco turned four he was sent to school. Ceres watched with jealousy in their eyes as the boy learned to read at the kitchen table, their mother tracing over each letter with him. It wasn't long after that Rene told Ceres that they needed to get a job to help support the household.

Ceres found themself thrown out into the path to the village she had never been to, mumbling words that didn't make much sense. The village was as beautiful as she had always imagined it to be. Lanterns hung in the streets as vendors lined the cobblestone. People shouted prices and jokes over her head as she wondered by. Every shop she stepped into told them they weren't hiring. Sending her back out on her way with a look of worry for this new girl in town.

On the third day, she was still down on their luck. Feet drug the ground on the way out of the town, head watching the torn boots. A whistle pulled her attention to a small fruit stand, an old woman sitting under the wooden roof. "Ya lookin' for work, sweetie?"

Ceres nodded as fast as she could, rushing to stand in front of the woman. "Yes, ma'am I am! I'll do anything you need me to!"

The woman laughed, "Then you be back here 'morrow mornin' at sunrise. I'll give you five rupees a day, that's all I can spare I'm 'fraid."

Ceres' smile could rip the seam of reality at that news.

She worked there for four years. Helping the old woman run the small stand. She taught them some basic skills that Rene had kept her from. Such as some reading and writing, counting, history, the basics of alchemy. But the whole world came crashing down the day she came to the stand to find it empty. Gnats flying around the sunken fruit. Tears filled their eyes, knowing that the time with the woman had come to an abrupt end. Turning to leave the stand, a hand grabbed her wrist.

She turned back to meet dark blue eyes and wavy brown hair atop a man's head. "Sorry to scare you, but this was my grandmother's stand. I assume you worked with her?"

Ceres pulled her hand back to herself and nodded, "Yeah, I did. I knew she was sick but..."

"It was a surprise to all of us. Unfortunately, we can't keep the stand running so I'm sorry to put you out like this."

"No, no. It's not your fault I can find something else. I'm more just upset that she's gone. We were close, her and I."

A weak smile pulled at the man's lips. He extended his hand, "Your name is?"

Ceres took it in her own, shaking it slowly. "Ceres, you?"

"Aldric."

The relationship was like a whirlwind. He was introduced to their family in the first month. Rene adored him, Jayco looked up to him with pride in his eyes to be a hunter like Aldric. Her grandmother was wary after Rene's history with men, buy still welcomed him into her home.

During this, Ceres was on the look out for any job they could snag. Running orders for the local blacksmith? Done. Helping the bartenders deliver drinks to tables? Done. Clean rooms at the inn? Done. Help process the deer? Done.

There was only one problem with this. It was how quickly she would leave jobs. She would jump on a new opportunity, and within a month be quitting and finding another. Any minor inconvenience was enough for them to quit on the spot. Nothing was too small of a reason.

Maybe it was to try to keep ahold on one aspect of her life.

Things started to spiral with Aldric nearly a year into the relationship. It started with a heated argument over the type of meat she used in the stew that night before quickly devolving into a stinging cheek. Aldric looked nearly as horrified as she felt as she held a hand to her the red skin of their cheek.

"I- I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry." Was all he had to say before pulling her into him as she cried into his chest.

It happened more and more often after that, always starting the same way. A small argument over something seemingly minuscule before she was crying on the ground holding whatever part of her was sure to bruise that time. Apologies would spill from his mouth before doing it all again the next day.

Ceres heard a rumor in the bar one night as she cleaned a glass. Apparently, the hunting party that Aldric was on stopped by Kakariko for a few nights before heading out for the actual hunt. The reason? Aldric had someone to stop and visit.

Their blood ran cold, throwing the glass to the ground and taking that as the minor inconvenience she needed to quit.

She let that simmer in her for two more weeks before the hunting party arrived home. In tow a few large deer to make up for their troubles. Ceres bit their tongue at the marks on Aldric's neck as he hugged her.

She confronted him two days later, with the marks still clearly in view trailing down his chest.

This is the scene from Hair

You tried to settle your breathing, raising a hand to knock on the door. “Come in.” A deep voice called from within the small house. You took a shakier breath, hand settling on the door knob. “Didn’t you hear me? I said come in!” The knob was ripped from your hand as the door swung inward. Your wide eyes stared down at his feet. “Thought you were someone else.” He mumbled, stepping away and walking towards a chair in the middle of small room. You nodded, following behind slowly and closing the door behind you.

“You said you wanted to talk?” His eyes were on the fireplace in front of him as he spoke. You nodded again, not yet trusting your words. “Well go on, I have to leave early in the morning so I don’t have all night.”

You wandered towards his chair, coming to a stop where he could see you in front of him, but not blocking his view of the raging fire. Your voice was raspy as you spoke, “I wanted to talk about the other day.” Your fingers held onto the hand shaped bruise on your forearm.

“What about it? I already said I was sorry.”

“Yes, you did but-“

“Is my apology not enough for you?” His eyes flickered over to your face for a moment.

“It’s not that. It’s just that-“

“You know, I do a lot for you, Y/N.” His voice raised a level, “I go out in these scouting and hunting parties for weeks or months at a time to make enough money for us. I bought us this house so after we are wed, we can live here, I tell you your hair and the ridiculous amount of flowers you put in it is pretty. Is it not enough for you? Am I not enough for you?”

“Aldric, it’s not that it’s-“

His eyes felt like daggers into your very soul when he finally made eye contact with you, “Then what is it, exactly? Because it sounds to me like you’re complaining.”

You swallowed into your dry throat, taking a step back. “I know there isn’t a hunting party leaving in the morning.” The words were more of a whisper than anything.

His eyes narrowed in on you. “What are you implying?”

You looked away from him, “I’m asking where you are going. That’s all.”

“Where I go is none of your concern. But if you really must know, I’m going to visit my cousin in Kakariko.”

“You don’t have a cousin in Kakariko. The only person you know who lives there is-“ Before you could finish he was on his feet, walking towards you. You walked backwards, face raising to meet his as he got you against the far wall, right next to the fireplace.

“What the hell are you implying now? Huh?” He grabbed your chin, angling it up so you were forced to meet his gaze. “Are you trying to say I’m going there to cheat on you? I don’t have to go all the way there to do that. Anyone in this town would be happy to have me.”

You attempted to nod against his grip, squirming against the wooden wall.

“And what, now you’re all upset? Because you accused me of cheating? Give me a fucking break!” His open hand hit the wall next to your face, causing a squeal to come from your mouth.

Your breathing picked up again, eyes looking anywhere but his to try to find a way out of the situation. But you didn’t need one, he let go of you and backed away. He turned away from you, going back to the middle of the room. A hand ran through his hair. You followed his lead, getting off of the wall and going towards the middle of the room, though not towards him. You got yourself between him and the front door.

“There’s more I have to say.” You began. He didn’t look at you so you continued. “I think it would be best if we weren’t together anymore. Maybe find others or-“ He turned to you. His eyes glowing red in the fire light. And then he ran. He ran at you, your feet not understanding that they needed to move before he got to you. You were against the wall again in an instant, this time next to the door.

“Do you want to say all of that again?!” He hissed out.

“I- I-“

His hand dug into the bruise that was already there on your arm, causing you to cry out. “I guess not. You know, Y/N, no one is ever going to love you like I do.” His words spat out like venom. “No one is ever going to treat you as good as I do. No one is ever going to find you attractive again. I’m all you have. I’m all you’ll ever have.” He released your hand to slam both fists into the wall next to your head. “You’re going to be all alone, forever.”

“You’re wrong.” You managed to cry out.

His face twisted, “What did you just say to me?”

You shrunk down into yourself, “You’re wrong.”

BAM

You clutched your cheek, tears pouring from your face as you fell to the floor. He stepped back just enough for you to do so. “Maybe that will teach you a fucking lesson.” He spat on the floor next to you.

She pushed herself out the door and somehow stumbled her way down that same magnolia lined path she had walked a million times before. Finding herself in her grandmother's arms as she cried. Cried for the five waisted years. Cried for the wedding dress their grandmother had begun sewing for her. Cried for the pain in her face and chest and the lack of vision in one eye. They cried for themself. Since no one ever had before.

She sat behind the inn's desk the next morning. Watching the clock tik by second by second until their shift ended. One eye was swelled shut and black and purple, a large matching bruise sat on their ribs. It ached to stay sitting for so long.

The door flew open and she looked up, not even bothering to greet the people walking in as one of them reached the desk.

"Don't FUCKING touch that!" One of the others behind the man shouted, hitting the shorter one on the back of the head. They blinked slowly at the growing ruckus before looking at the face of the one in front of her. Red and blue lined tattoos ran across his face, moving as he spoke.

"I need five rooms please."

A vase crashed in the back of the group. And with practiced speed, Ceres dropped the pen in their hand, grabbed her bag from under the desk, and walked around it. "Yeah, I'm fuckin' out." The door swung close behind them.

She was in town the next day, searching for somewhere else to work when a man ran into the middle of the street, falling to his knees and letting out a blood curdling scream from deep in his chest. Blood fell from his stomach where he held his inside in place from spilling onto the ground. "Monsters! There are monsters in the woods!"

Ceres stood in the middle of the growing crowd, watching on as the man began to collapse into his own blood. Another arm caught his fall, "Where are they?!"

She recognized him, one of the many men from the end the day before. Fluffy brown hair and dark eyes that stared into the dying man. "Where are the monsters?!"

"Th- the wo-woods." Blood pulled in the man's mouth as he spoke and the other one sneered, letting his hand fall to the other's stomach. A few gasps filled her ears as the man's hands began to glow around the ruined insides.

"Come on, stay with me!" Sweat trickled down his face as he looked to be exerting himself. "It's not your time to die!" Light seemed to flood back into the man's eyes as the blood rolled to a stop, coughs slowing down. The other laid him in the street, "Someone get a doctor, this isn't going to help him for long." He stood to make way for two men to pick him up and carry him out of the crowd.

The crowd dispersed as quickly as they joined, leaving only her and the man from the inn in the middle of the street. People passed around and between them, a stale breeze blowing their hair.

"What's your name?" He spoke so gently to her, voice barely audible. They didn't respond, instead watching as he turned to face her. "I'm sorry about yesterday, my friends can be a lot sometimes." No words came from her mouth still. "I can heal that for you if you want? I'm a healer." And with that, she turned away from him. Pushing through the people back towards the magnolia grove.

The rest is history. Ceres warms up to the chain just barely before Time pulls her through the portal with them. WOW I did not expect to write that much but, Luna, you got your dissertation. I'm open to any more questions you may have!

#JESUS FUCKING CHRIST THAT WAS A LOT #I have ALOT to say today I guess omfg #ceres <3 #I just love that girl alot okay

[belzimbub]

The lack of essays about The Binding Of Isaac, a game that is literally a giant metaphor for everything, made me create my first English-speaking video. I hope you enjoy!

Text version of the video below:

Let's start from afar.

Every year the channel Nanda V Movies invites essayists to tell about their favorite scenes on a particular topic and then adds all their videos to one playlist. This way giant love letters are created that introduce us to moments from movies, TV shows and sometimes even video games. I wanted to participate but for a long time the previous topics were… difficult for me: One Musical Scene and One Villainous Scene. Which is weird because video games are full of great music and insidious bosses. For example, my dear series Like A Dragon is a wonderful combination of both of these things. Nevertheless, I didn’t have some personally impressive example to create an entire video… until recently. After a couple years from its release I was able to play the final expansion to one of my favorite game, The Binding Of Isaac. And this DLC is what gave me the boss, the villain that I keep thinking about, even when I turn off the screen.

Isaac and his Mother lived alone in a small house on a hill. Isaac drew pictures, played with toys and his Mom watched Christian broadcasts on the television. Life was simple, and they were both happy. That was, until the day Isaac’s mom heard a voice from above, telling her to kill the son. And she wasn’t going to disobey the Lord. To save his life, Isaac threw himself down into the basement and embarked on a journey into the unknown depths below. The depths where… there are a lot of bosses and all of them know how to impress. Worms, excrements, demons — I remember my first encounters with each monster. And sure, most of them are nothing more than obstacles in the way of the player. But some manage to stand out. Going deeper we’ll meet creatures that boggle our mind a bit: the nonhuman versions of Mother, Isaac as a hostile angel, the white face indiscreetly called Delirium and etc. After defeating the bosses of this type, the cutscenes are shown that reveal to us not something that is not obvious, but something we don’t want to think about.

Of course, there are no caves, catacombs and the cathedral under the Isaac's house. The Binding Of Isaac is a fantasy of the child. The child imbued with religious ideas who goes through the parents’ divorce and blames himself for all the sins. Those bosses that I mentioned earlier bring out Isaac as a character: the lack of motherly love, self-loathing and the traumatized, wild side of the psyche. I love this game for such imagery and the same can be said about the people who worked on the DLC Repentance. And that’s why I am sure that when coming up with a new boss they had a question: «How to make it as artistically rich as others?» Thankfully, they found an answer and it was quite simple. You use what lies right before people's eyes.

With Repentance, the alternative routes will appear in the game that have most of the new content. One of these routes will lead us to Dad’s note and begin “Ascend”, the most overtly plot-driven moment in the entire game. For the first time we have an opportunity to visit locations in reverse order, and, rising higher and higher, we experience the most painful memory — the parents arguing because of Mom’s religious mania and Dad’s alcoholism. We go through several floors, return to the very beginning and then we see… The Isaac’s room. Not the weirdest thing as we could see it even in the depths. But everything seems… different. We leave the room and we are greeted not by the catacombs but by a hall, a closet, a TV room and Mom’s bedroom. We go to bed, wake up in the middle of the night from a terrible vision and approach the light in the middle of the gloom house.

The first thing I’ll say is this boss looks awesome and very natural. The Binding Of Isaac style is based on this balance between cartoonish and disgusting. And some monsters, in my opinion, go overboard with one or the other. But the battle with this fetus made of noises, with its umbilical cord sticking out of the screen, feels right. It doesn’t mean that Dogma is unoriginal. Quite the opposite, its design exudes attention to details. If you put some effects on the boss, the static will suddenly get worse. Sometimes Dogma turns for a couple of seconds into 4 images, symbolizing the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse. And speaking of religious imagery, its attacks include the qualities of both angelic and demonic items. And this connection between holiness and blackness is punctuated by the sound design. Remember my whole tirade about “One Musical Scene” and so on and so forth? Well, Dogma has one of the most unique musical themes that I have ever heard. The song is full of noises and static which after a while come out like an explosion, emphasizing the full power of the boss. And after the destruction of the TV and the start of the second phase, the battle becomes unforgettable thanks to…

The preacher's screams begin to be heard, warning of the wrath of God, saying that you need to atone for your sins and that blasphemy will not be forgiven! This voice passes from one ear to the other while we are trying to dodge the rays of light. By the way, they were perfectly described by a commentator on Youtube: these rays sound «both heavenly and like impending doom». And in the middle of this beautiful cacophony you may not notice the quiet reading of the psalm. Dogma tries to convey to us that in both life and death we can put our trust in God, while using the most sinister voice in the whole game (even though the Devil is in it!):

Well, as you can see, this boss's presentation is pretty cool. But let's return to the previous question. «Is Dogma "artistically rich?"» Yes, absolutely. Firstly, its concept is simply witty. Taking a line from the intro about «Christian broadcasts» and turning it into a monster — muah, beauty. Secondly, even though the player has yet to battle the final boss, I think the most important moment in the game is the fight with Dogma. Let me be a literature teacher. As I said, The Binding Of Isaac is a fantasy of the child, and this fantasy is based on his worldview. In Isaac's understanding, he is a demon, a sinner who deserves punishment from the highest powers. He does not doubt the fairness of his suffering, because it is more logical than the fact that the family could simply end. But at one point Isaac decides to face reality, to remember those terrible shouts of his parents, which allows him to fly back up. He looks back at what he experienced, what story he created for himself, and asks the question: «Where did it all begin?» «Ascend» marks the beginning of Isaac's doubts about the truth of his beliefs.

Beliefs that later take shape as Dogma, whose cries of God's wrath now seem wrong. It becomes clear that the faith of the self-critical boy was distorted by the television. The child's curiosity, his love for monsters and dressing up turned into sins leading to eternal torment. And as soon as the family tragedy occurred, this idea became true for Isaac. And that's why it's important to see him resisting Dogma. He understands that he does not deserve pain for his interests, that religion was used against him. And I hope he also stops blaming himself because these programs played a bigger role in Mom's mania and Dad’s abandonment than any of Isaac's hobbies. After defeat, Dogma turns into a cross of noise and falls on the hero, at last trying to destroy him from the inside. But it fails, and for the first time Isaac himself becomes an angel. All that remains is to defeat his last figment of imagination, and not as a punishment, but as a final trial.

I recommend you to play The Binding Of Isaac. Not only because the gameplay is fun and you can spend hundreds of hours on it. Not only because, in fact, I did NOT spoil a ton of things and there is more for you to see. But because the game is a giant pile of metaphors that wants you to use your imagination. For example, for me, Dogma is the main villain: it combines the best aspects of the game, and the worst moments in Isaac's life are directly related to this boss, making defeating it feel like a real climax. Maybe you also have some ideas on this or any other matter? Maybe even something worthwhile, but thoughts about your own mediocrity turn creativity into a nightmare? It’s funny, because of something like this, I couldn’t participate in one YouTuber’s project. But now, I’m finally finishing this text and I can say without a doubt the following: give yourself one more chance.

#the binding of isaac #tboi #binding of isaac #video essay #essay #youtube #Youtube

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Reid Newtown

Published: Nov 27, 2023

I grew up attending integrated public schools in Atlanta. From the start, I was used to being in the minority: I’m white and my friends were almost all black or Hispanic, and when I was a freshman in high school, in 2010, I came out as a lesbian. Neither my race nor my sexual orientation mattered to my friends. One reason for that was dance and music and the belief that my friends and I shared that art can change people, give them purpose, communicate something beautiful and transformative.

I moved to New York City when I was 18, but the day after George Floyd was murdered in Minneapolis, I was back in Atlanta visiting my parents, and I drove to my friend Sean’s house. He lived in a quiet, black suburb called Camp Creek filled with orderly, identical homes.

That night, I remember wanting to wrap my arms around my friends, to be there for them in what felt like this unbelievably dark moment. As the protests turned to riots closer to the heart of the city—just a few miles east of Camp Creek, near Centennial Olympic Park—Sean’s neighborhood stayed quiet.

But as soon as I stepped foot inside Sean’s house, I was greeted by the family dogs, and smelled the grill being fired up. There was a bowl of potato salad on the counter. Our mutual friend Khalil greeted me as if nothing was wrong, sweeping me off my feet into a familiar dance lift we’d done a thousand times. “Reidist!” he said.

Sean’s mom told me she was so glad I was safe, away from the neighborhoods being vandalized and, in some cases, set on fire. She shook her head as she prepared the hamburgers and hot dogs, as she always did in the summer. There were violent clashes all that night, and the mayor issued a 9 p.m. curfew, which meant, as usual, I would be sleeping over.

That night, all of our friends were there. There was a sense of deep-seated grief, and people wanted to be together, and they wanted to cry and hug and share stories. My friends—all black men in their early twenties—recalled run-ins they had had with the cops.

Being pulled over for no obvious reason while police dogs searched their car. Being roughed up. Being cuffed. Being called racist slurs. Being taken down to the station for questioning when they had done literally nothing. In the coming days and months, we donated to bail campaigns and posted a black square on our Instagrams. In June, we marched, and chanted, and we waved signs and demanded justice.

That summer, the world seemed upside down, violent, crazy. We wanted to make it right. What I couldn’t see then was that, far from making it right, we were on this spiral, and it was taking us somewhere dark: The world I had grown up in was being dismantled, and it was never coming back.

* * *

I grew up going to public schools just north of downtown. My kindergarten class resembled one of those stock diversity photos with one kid from every race sitting at a table together. I didn’t think twice about it. They were my friends.

I frequently had friends over at my house. My mom—everyone called her Mama Newt—hosted everyone no matter what they looked like or where they came from. No one left Mama Newt’s kitchen hungry.

[ Reid’s mother, “Mama Newt” ]

In middle school, the black kids started sitting with the black kids at lunch. The Hispanic kids with the Hispanic kids. The white kids with the white kids. I agonized over where to sit. All of my friends were at different tables.

I loved to dance, and I became captain of the step team. I was the only white girl on the team, and I stuck out, but the girls didn’t treat me any differently. There were jokes about how surprising it was that I had rhythm; we all laughed about it. Race was present, but it didn’t feel overbearing.

In high school, race and racial identity became more important, more talked about, inescapable. The dance studio was the only classroom that reflected the school’s diversity. Most other classes were de facto segregated based on students’ academic track.

The dance crew—we were like a sitcom. There was Sean, the music theater geek who was also a first-rate swimmer. Then there was Khalil, who was a firecracker gymnast and cheerleader—and hilarious. (People compared him to Kevin Hart.) Then there was Isaac, who was tall and lanky, a lacrosse player and preacher’s son. And then there was me. They called me “lil sis,” which I loved, maybe because I’d never had siblings. As an only child, my friends really felt like family.

[ From Left to Right: Sean, Khalil, Reid, Isaac, and Kwame ]

The studio was like a race-blind utopia, and it felt unreal, because it was: the moment you stepped out into the hallway, the intimacy and warmth gave way to a kind of unhappy, low-level tension.

Usually, that tension resided just beneath the surface. But not always.

I remember one day in 2011 there was supposed to be a big fight between the black, white, and Hispanic students. There had been an altercation a few days before between rival gangs, and it was near the end of the school year, when fights were more common, and someone started a rumor about a “race war.”

I stood in the middle of the courtyard and looked around at the various corners full of people siloing themselves into white, black, and brown factions. I had no idea which corner I belonged in. In the Hispanic section, I glimpsed Jessica Sanchez, who had taught me in the sixth grade how to throw a punch. I wondered what would happen if I had to punch Jessica Sanchez.

Luckily, security stopped it before it started, and everyone eventually returned to class as if nothing had happened.

The point is, the racial tension notwithstanding, we seemed to be moving in the right direction. Maybe I was blind. Maybe my whiteness made it impossible for me to see what was really going on in other people’s heads. I don’t know. I found my tribe wherever I found kindness and laughter. Wherever the bass was bumping, and people were dancing. The rest always seemed to work itself out.

* * *

In 2014, I moved to New York to go to Fordham University and the prestigious Ailey School of Dance. Alvin Ailey, who founded the school in 1969, was known for having said that “dance is for everybody” and “we are all human beings and color is not important.” I loved the power of art to transcend difference.

[ Reid and a fellow classmate at Ailey School of Dance ]

My high school sweetheart, a black woman I naively believed I would one day marry, started her freshman year at Harvard, where she immersed herself in the spoken-word poetry scene and acquired a new racial consciousness. I remember taking the five-hour bus from New York to Cambridge only to find myself sitting alone in her dorm, excluded from the party and poetry slam she’d gone to.

She said that she no longer felt safe being near me because I was white, that any physical affection I offered was me attempting to colonize her body.

Six months into college, she broke up with me.

At the time, I thought this was an anomaly—a sad derangement that came out of elite places like Harvard. I had no idea what was coming.

Dance distracted me from the hurt. My goal had been to make it to the professional Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater since I first saw Ailey’s Revelations performed at the old Fox Theatre, in Atlanta, and that feeling intensified after I attended Ailey’s Summer Intensive when I was 16—now that I was at the dance school I felt like I was on the cusp of getting in.

A hip injury put an end to that dream, but it didn’t really matter. I went on to dance professionally elsewhere—among other gigs, I spent three seasons as a dancer and stunt double on The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel—graduated from Fordham in 2018, fell in love once again with an older, Bengali-American woman, got my own apartment in Queens, and moved my dog, Tiger, a Pekingese-poodle mix, from Atlanta to New York.

I also started to think beyond the narrow confines of a New York City progressive, which felt increasingly small and myopic. I read books like The Coddling of the American Mind and The Problem with Everything and The Rise of Victimhood Culture. I started to disagree, silently, with my friends.

Then, in early 2020, my girlfriend and I broke up, and Covid happened. I was furloughed from my day job as a technician at a physical therapy clinic, and my dance gig auditions came to a halt. I got depressed being all alone in my apartment, and I flew home to Atlanta to be with my family.

A few days after I got home, George Floyd was murdered.

Suddenly, I felt this thing I had never felt: people viewing and talking to each other through the lens of race. Yes, I know, that lens had always been there. But there had always been other people, ideas, forces to counteract that. Our impulse to divide had always been eclipsed by a more powerful desire to come together.

But now the fissures were opening up, and it was impossible to sew them together. I remembered being broken up with six years earlier by my critical-race-theory-poetry-slam girlfriend, and suddenly it seemed like millions of people were breaking up with each other, walling themselves off. When I showed up at Sean’s house that night, his mom’s familiar embrace almost made me cry. Between social distancing and racial siloing, physical affection had started to feel foreign. I leaned into her hug hard, and she had to steady herself to keep herself from falling backward.

When the lockdowns ended, I went back to New York, but I couldn’t stay for long. My mom had always had multiple sclerosis, but now it was getting worse. My parents were everything to me: They’d supported my dancing; they’d supported me when I came out. Now, my mother was struggling, and my dad, forced to juggle full-time work and full-time caregiving, was overwhelmed, drowning in responsibility. I had to go home, and I wanted to. 

At the time, I didn’t know you can’t ever really go home again.

* * *

By spring 2022, things were finally reopening, and we all wanted to go out and dance.

That night, at a club in midtown Atlanta, I was, as usual, the only white person. I was used to that, but this time it was different.

As I danced with my friends to classic southern hip-hop songs like “Knuck if You Buck” by Crime Mob, “It’s Goin’ Down” by Yung Dro, and “Walk it Out” by Outkast, I could feel the eyes around me searing into my back and head and legs and face. People pulled out their cameras and filmed me in disgust—as if I had two heads. They said things like: “Who does she think she is?” and “She shouldn’t be allowed here—I don’t care if she can dance.”

The worst part wasn’t how it made me feel, how out of place I felt in this world I had once thought of as an extension of home. The worst part was that the people in that room felt threatened by my being there. This seemed crazy to me, but it was undeniable. They genuinely felt unsafe and uncomfortable because of the color of my skin. They viewed me as an oppressor and a grifter looking to take—to appropriate—what wasn’t mine.

The world of dance, which had given me that precious language to communicate with anyone irrespective of who they were or where they came from, was fragmenting—consumed, like everything else, by our seemingly inescapable racialization and tribalization.

A few weeks later, I received an invitation to a party. At the top of the invitation bold letters stated:  “THIS IS AN ALL-BLACK EVENT.” I responded to the friend who sent it to me and asked if they meant to wear all-black clothes. She responded, “Nah, it’s for black people only, but you know you’re the exception.”

I did not attend.

The self-segregation was suffocating. The most meaningful art and friendships in my life had come out of piercing through racial boundaries. Expanding my horizons. Now, it seemed like those horizons were closing in on me, my friends, the wonderful, collaborative, fluid, undulating world of dance that had infused my life with so much meaning. It felt like something was being lost forever.

I know, I know—we’ve been in this moment for three years, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been told that setting aside my race, my whiteness, is a privilege. Does that mean we shouldn’t aspire to live in a world in which we all set aside our immutable traits? That we shouldn’t try to see beyond race?

Which brings me to the most amazing woman I’ve ever known.

After a couple of years of dating as a gay woman in New York, I was feeling discouraged. Everyone I had gone out with was a hyper-political leftist. They always seemed to be in the middle of a rant. Every date gave me an uneasy feeling for fear of saying the wrong thing—my views on race, sex, gender, you name it, were not in lock-step with those of my fellow LGBT New Yorkers. On edge and worried I would never find my person, I had almost given up dating entirely.

Then I connected with Bianca. She’s an elite marathoner and the daughter of Cuban immigrants, and she’s perfect: measured, kind, curious. The only woman I’ve ever met who could convince me to run a 5K and the only one who’s made me rethink some of my opinions about politics, identity, life, and the world.

I like to believe we were always meant to be, but I also know I would never have arrived at this place were it not for the ups and downs of the last few years. Before the summer of 2020, it was easier to feel or think or exist outside our superficial differences. We didn’t talk about these things with the same frequency or intensity. There weren’t as many landmines. Now, it’s more important than ever to discuss our differences—while also trying to see beyond skin color and demand that we’re seen the same way.

A few months ago, I had a ring made for Bianca using the diamond from my late grandmother’s wedding ring. I haven’t proposed yet, but we’re thinking maybe a small wedding with family down the line. As for Sean, Khalil, and Isaac—they’re planning on being my three best men.

[ Reid and Bianca ]

==

"Critical theory is a universal solvent, and the problem with a universal solvent is finding a container that can hold them. Spill enough and dissolve society." -- James Lindsay

#Bianca Newton #antiracism #antiracism as religion #racial division #critical social justice #critical theory #critical race theory #colorblindness #religion is a mental illness

[eldritch-something-or-other]

Hello! Remember how I said I'd make more TF2 AUs than the Monster AU? well here's my

TF2 Kids AU

General Info: The whole thing takes place in one neighborhood where everyone lives. Most of the kids that aren't American (or come from a specific place in America) typically moved from there to the neighborhood. I wanted scout and spy to still be related in some way so they're half brothers. how scout doesn't know of this and spy does is because spy only lives with his dad (likely his mother died tragically) and his dad and scouts ma had a thing for a bit, long enough to have scout, then they divorced and while scouts ma has moved on spy's dad just hasn't shut up about it to spy since. its like the comics in that Miss Pauling is collecting each of the mercs but in this case its for the first time

Miss Pauling: so first of all Miss Pauling is the main character for the most part (like in the actual comics) the reason she goes by Miss Pauling is that there were multiple other girls with her name, so her teachers just called her Miss Pauling and it stuck she's Helen's kid. (I was thinking of making admin a kid too, but she works better as a sort of 50 year old mom with a powerful job) the whole mission of Pauling collecting the kids is framed as some grand shady mission given by Helen but in reality it was just her weird convoluted plot to get miss p more friends At the beginning really her only friend is scout

Scout: he's, of course, the youngest of seven other brothers. they dont hate him but they aren't exactly his friend he's friends with Miss Pauling cause he saw her one day (either he or she just moved into town) and he thought she was soo pretty and just started talking to her, only to realize he also liked her as a friend when they first met he just couldn't pronounce her name. 'Pauline? Pooling? Puh-lin?' and eventually she just sighed really heavy and just went 'just call me miss p' and he was just like 'ok!' honestly just shit at pronouncing ANYONES name he doesn't really have any friends other than Miss Pauling He's the type of kid to go up to any adult he considers cool and go 'hey look how fast I can run' and then dash away from them as quickly as possible

Spy: spy is living with his dad who honestly kinda sucks but in like a funny way. like he'd suck to actually be around but funny to read about spy's first name is Francis and he absolutely HATES it because of Francis The Talking France and, because he's French, thats literally the first thing almost anyone says when they hear his name, so he'd very much rather people call him spy. he got the nickname spy cause he's like a creepy kid that watches people in the bushes and other places. he also pickpockets and lies but he mainly does those to adults. he's also got a knife collection that he will infodump/mansplain to anyone he can find about. he's this kid who you expect to be super mega rich and then you get to his house and its like oh. dude the lights dont even turn on. theres like two things in the fridge. its like the most ramshackled house. how the hell does he look like a butler (the answer: Thievery) His meeting starts with the team wondering like oh god where could he be he could be anywhere and then engie's like 'have. have y'all considered just going to his house and knocking on the door' and they're all like '..................................no' so they go to do that and spy stops them just before they can knock and he has somehow got in front of them and he's like 'ohohoho. you dont have to do that.' partly for him to be all mysterious and intimidating and partly because he doesn't want em to see his cringe house, so after they converse for awhile he joins.

Soldier: He was like. raised by five military men/veterans which is why he's Like That at the age of like 10 (he also got that nickname for Obvious Reasons) he probably visits Merasmus (who is still totally a wizard in this) a lot and Merasmus has less of a 'shittiest roommate ever' opinion of him and more of a 'older/adult sibling annoyed by loud child who refuses to leave' opinion of him i feel like the team meets him at Merasmus's place (where demo is also there, cleaning his castle) and miss p is like 'heyyy soldier. i need you for. um. a mission.' and he's like 'A MISSION? I WILL JOIN YOU!' and she asks demo whos like 'hold on hold on ive got to finish cleaning this wizards castle' and the teams like 'well maybe we could help' and Merasmus is like hm ok that would be nice and soldiers like 'I WILL HELP :]' and merasmus is like 'nO YOU WILL NOT HELP' and sollys like 'I WILL NOT HELP :]' cause hes like 11 so the team (minus soldier, who is standing outside patiently) help demo clean the whole castle and set off to find the next merc

Demoman: so demo is like this like 10-12 year old kid with like. three to four jobs cause his mum said he needed em (one job is cleaning merasmus's castle and generally helping with housework) he got the nickname from him trying to explain that both his mom and dad were demomen and like the next time that kid/group of kids saw him they were like 'hey its that demo guy!' so the nickname is usually reserved for like people who dont know him well or people who dont know how to/refuse to pronounce 'tavish' i already told you how they meet him so heres a bit more about him he skips classes somewhat often and his teacher assume hes just being lazy or delinquent but its actually because he has like. four jobs he lost his eye from merasmus's book but he begged merasmus to let him keep working for them saying that he'd start actually following the rules and that he really needed the job and merasmus was eventually like ok FINE.

Engineer: so Engie is like the whole gifted kid thing, but hes also very kind (and has talked several bullies down successfully) the reason hes called engineer is because he's won several school awards for his little (genuinely functional) contraptions and the majority of them were engineering competitions Miss Pauling meets him in his yard working on god knows what, with his dad (Fred, the team fortress classic engineer) reading a news paper on the porch she basically just asks him if he'll come with her for this mission that her mom set her up on and he's just like "yeah sure hold on let me ask my dad- HEY DAD. CAN I HANGOUT WITH THIS RANDOM GIRL WHO SAID HER MOM NEEDS ME FOR A MISSION?" and his dad just takes one look at her then goes back to his newspaper and yells back 'YEAH SURE SON'

Heavy: heavy is gotten just/a bit before medic cause he's medics closest/only friend and the other kids are afraid of the 'doctor' he got the nickname heavy cause well. kids are cruel sometimes he lives with his mother and three sisters, he's quite a bit more reluctant to join as both a. half the team is annoying and b. he has no goddamn idea who these kids are nor what their intentions are. engie is probably the one to convince him both by using his relationship with medic as leverage and because he's like the only one there that is actually good at talking to people. once he's with them for a bit he's like 'hey this isn't as bad as i thought it'd be' although he does still think soldier and scout are annoying as hell. once they get medic he's like 'hey this might actually be a good fun friend group'

Sniper: He and Miss Pauling were set up in like one of those partner project things cause nobody wanted to be with either of them so they just got stuck together sniper came up with that name himself. he was like "call me... sniper" and then everyone's like 'whatever you say mick' their interaction goes like. as awkwardly as possible. neither of them have any social skills she's just like 'hey um. hey sniper? can you not throw rocks at us i wanna talk' and he's silent for a second and soldier butts in like 'IF YOU THROW ROCKS AT ME I WILL BE PREPARED! I HAVE A HELMET.' only to be knocked over by a stone to the noggin and snipers like in his tree house like 'sorry sorry but he totally was asking for it ' and miss p's like 'no no he really was but um. can you come here my mom said she needed me to get you for a mission' and etc etc sniper joined the party

Medic: He's just as medically experimental and morally bankrupt as he is in adulthood but he doesn't really have any human subjects. he's got like several stitched together hybrid animals that are somehow still alive and now his pets. I can't decide if his parents being too afraid to stop him or them being just as morally bankrupt and extremely supportive would be funnier he got the nickname. well from being generally a mad doctor (Misha specifically calls him doktor as apposed to medic) but there was a specific instance where he stole the majority of the schools medical supplies for his experiments all of the kids, minus like. Misha, dell and soldier were fucking terrified of him before meeting him. he's still scary, but now they know he can be just as chatty as scout at times i think it'd be funny if like they met his scared parents and they were like 'you... you want to see him?' and they're like 'um. yeah' so they go like allllll the way (i'm imagining the house is super tall with like a mad scientist area (medics room) at/near the top) to his room and then the door like creeks and he's all shadowed then he swivels around in his chair and he's just all like 'oh hallo!! :] it is SO next to have guests :3 it gets lonely sometimes :/ who are you btw' and they're all like '. this Cannot be the right guy' and then it is

Pyro: They're this kid living in this house that was abandoned after at least half of it burnt down, presumably killing the family living in it. its in this secluded area of town that no one really goes to, so no one can really see that the windows are boarded up from the inside and there's lights inside the building. pyro got the nickname from. well they're a kid living in a burnt building people are gonna assume they burnt the building i have this whole idea of like miss p walking with the rest of the team like 'Helen said that we should be careful with this one' and they get spy to sneak around the house seeing all these strange things like colorful scribbles on almost every wall, straight up weapons lying around, an entire pile of empty jerry cans in the garage, the fridge half full of rotten food with the sink filled to the brim with dirty dishes, scratches and burns on many walls, the entire place generally being in disrepair. i like to think the first time they encounter pyro, only seeing them from behind one of ems just like 'oh huh the place they live in is weird but who'd be afraid of that' cause like they've got like that unicorn onsie on or somethin similar and then they turn around (still not noticing the team) and they've got that full on gasmask that was clearly made for an adult and they're just like "Oh. Okay" they're all like stumped on how to get them to join until someone (probably engie or admin if they call her for help) is like 'all the food was rotten right? maybe get them something to eat? cause like theres no way they're eating well unless they've got like a hidden fridge somewhere' and so they get like a homemade lunch in like. a ballonicorn lunchbox for them and they tear up from the generosity but Shenanigans happen that makes the other mercs chase em eventually it leads the mercs to the attic and the mercs fall for the classic bucket above the door trick but alas! the bucket is full of gasoline and pyro's got a flamethrower! so engie and a couple others like Miss Pauling and Demo have to talk em down and get em to join the friend group and it works out in the end cause im not writing a group of children getting set on fire

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed!

#tf2 #tf2 miss pauling #tf2 scout #tf2 spy #tf2 soldier #tf2 demoman #tf2 engineer #tf2 heavy #tf2 sniper #tf2 medic #tf2 pyro #i wonder if you can tell which ones my favorite just based on paragraph length #i would do more proofreading but like. ive had this in my drafts for so long its gotta be posted #kid fortress #tf2 kids au #i WILL be making more aus soon (posting time unsure) #also apologies for the wall of text in like. Every tag #ive thought about these guys far too much #my art

[lemonsprite]

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 || 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐦 𝐱 𝐍𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐂𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐦

Summary: this is literally just a Cinderella AU I made three years ago and am finally deciding to post TT

Word count: 3.4K

Warnings: parental verbal and physical abuse near the end!! Minor character death as well

A/N: I love them ugh

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Prompto loved his mom dearly. Ever since he could remember they’d spend every second together, most of the time it’d be in their home’s illustrious gardens. She’d lead Prompto’s clumsy legs through a waltz underneath a giant weeping willow, bending down low to the ground just so she could be face-to-face with Prompto. The blonde giggled the whole time in delight. He was like a baby giraffe when he tried to dance, his lanky legs bruised from days spent playing outside bumping together in an unceremonious heap.

My sun drop.” She’d hum in contentment, pushing Prompto’s messy blonde bangs from his eyes. Her son would flash her a wide grin, showing off his missing canine and his mom couldn’t stop herself from smiling back.

Despite being a widow, Prompto’s mother had always wanted the best for him. She would spend most of her time playing with the little blonde boy and mingling with fancy courtiers all to secure her son a bright future. It was hard work but at the end of the day, it was all worth it.

The queen of their nation had heard wind of this playfully strong mother and had raised an eyebrow in curiosity, waving over a retainer to jot down a message.

One of Prompto’s earliest memories is the queen’s first visit to their house. Their only servants, Cid and his grand daughter Cindy were practically a mess, trying to straighten out their young master well enough to appear in front of their monarch.

Cindy being only two years older than him had looked at him as if he were a dimwitted toddler unable to do anything by himself, as she straightened his clothing and brushed his sandy blonde bangs from his eyes.

The queen did not stop visiting after her first stay, his mother and her practically becoming surrogate sisters. The pair would get together for tea at least three times a week. Most of the time they’d meet at their house, but on rare occasions Prompto got to tag along to the royal palace. That was when he wore his fanciest clothes and used his finest manners.

It’d been a day such like that when the blonde boy had gotten his first encounter with the crown prince. The queen had brought her boy with, a small toddler with fluffy raven black hair that stuck up at odd ends. Prompto’s mother had giggled in delight when she’d first met the queen’s Noctis.

Her sun drop seemed to be just as enamored with the young prince as she was. At first Noctis seemed almost shy, as if afraid to even stand near Prompto. To the two women’s delights that didn’t seem to last long and all began to change when Prompto had drawn him a crudely colored rendition of them holding hands. Something seemed to light up in the raven-haired boys face as he ran up to his mother, his smile ecstatic as he excitedly gestured to the drawing in his hand. They’d sit together and use their limited vocabulary to babble back and forth as the two parents looked on in charm.

Prompto’s mother couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Noctis at one of their get-togethers. Last she heard of him he was off studying abroad in Tenebrae, far from their sleepy kingdom of Insomnia.

She could hardly tell at this point if Prompto even remembered his princely friend now that he lived so far away and it’d been three years since their last meeting. It saddened her heart to see his only friend far far away from her little sundrop.

—

“Mom, look what I made!” Called her son, running so fast that he collided into the flowing dress of his parent with a loud ‘oomph!’

In his hands, he clutched a piece of paper, wrinkles decorating the parchment due to his attentive grip.

“What is it Prompto?” She smiled around a cup of tea, the summer sun illuminating her blonde hair like marigolds.

“I drew you!” He exclaimed, lifting his prized artistry in the air for his mother to see.

Prompto’s mom smiled fondly at the scribbles loosely resembling a person on his paper, one large circle with four random lines protruding from it indicating limbs, a crudely drawn smile in the middle.

She took the drawing in her hands, tracing the lines with her fingers tenderly. To her, this was the most beautiful rendition she’d ever seen of herself.

“My little artist.” She cooed, handing back the paper to her son, caressing his cheek with her hand.

He beamed at her, showing off his missing front tooth.

As the years went by and her son turned ten, Prompto’s mom began to worry. Anxieties would bite at her thoughts, making her question her ability as a parent. Was growing up without a father going to affect her sun drop? He seemed to not have that many friends… Should she do something?

Once she’d brought this problem up with the queen she’d reassured her that she need not worry, but if she “Really needed another person there,” She knew plenty.

That was how she’d met Verstael Besithia, a man originally from Nifleheim and already had a son, just two years younger than her blonde boy.

Seven months after their first meeting and the two were married. Prompto’s mother never cared much for Verstael, they’d gotten along decently enough and maybe with time she could actually learn to love him, what really mattered is that Prompto now had a fully functioning family.

Much to the young boys surprise, many changes came to their house when Verstael and his son Loqi moved in. Before it had been just the four of them, his mother and their two servants, but his new step father had decreed he just had to bring his house’s staff with him.

Soon their once peaceful home was bustling with life. All within the span of a week Prompto met with a stablehand, chef, and a multitude of maids who’d be helping him from that day on. It was all so new to the blonde, hiding behind his mother’s dress as he stared widely at all the new adults scurrying around their once lonely halls.

“It’s alright Prompto.” She’d smiled, running a hand through his dewy blonde curls. “They’re here to help.”

Prompto at the time had pouted, shaking his head silently in objection. His grip on her dress tightening.

His mother bit her lip in worry for her son, looking up at the people running back and forth. “How about we go meet your new brother?”

—

By the time Prompto had turned twelve, his affinity for drawing and his interest in art had only grown. The blonde had only needed to mention it once and his mother was already asking the queen for artisans she knew of that would be willing to teach her “sun drop” a thing or two.

Her highness had nodded enthusiastically, handing her a paper with the name ‘Cor Leonis’ written on it.

Cor, Prompto had found out early on, was an ex-guard. One who’d seen far too many battles for his time and just wanted to live out the rest of his life peacefully, with a paintbrush in his hand.

He’d come to their house four days out of the week, bringing with him his easel on his back and a scowl on his lips. Cor was never a happy man, but Prompto wasn’t blind to the way the corner of his lips would turn upwards in slight satisfaction of his apprentice's work.

Once Prompto had caught wind of the fact Cor used to be in the military, he’d begged the poor artisan for days to teach him archery. Practically grabbing the hem of his pants as he pouted at the tired man.

‘Only basics’ Cor had scolded, finally falling prey to the young boys sulking. He’d teach him the things he’d learned from his time early on in the royal guard, basics that wouldn’t injure him too badly if he messed up. Prompto was, after all, only a boy.

For now, they both sat in the studio a couple of servants built in Prompto’s home. It wasn’t that big of a space, just something his mom had quickly cleared out in preparation of her son’s new hobby. The bright sun filtered in through a big window, the golden hour light washing over the canvas’ of their art.

“How’s Verstael and Loqi?” Cor had asked attempting conversation as he added a few more strokes to a painting he’d already deemed finished earlier that day.

“Fine.” Mumbled Prompto, mixing pigments with a palette knife.

Cor raised a criticizing eyebrow, glancing at the blonde’s artwork.

“Then why have you been so sloppy today with your work?”

Prompto bit his lip, glancing anywhere but Cor.

“Look I won’t ask, but if those two Niflehiemians cause you any trouble you can tell me alright?” Cor frowned, placing a reassuring hand on Prompto’s back.

His teacher had never approved of Loqi and Verstael from the day he’d met Prompto and his family, purely for the fact of the nation they’d came from. Back when he’d been in the guard there was a brief time he’d gone to war with Niflehiem. Brief but scary.

It’d been over twenty-seven years ago now and the two nations were on a… moderately rocky peace.

“I will.” Promised Prompto, throwing an unsure smile at Cor.

—

“Where’s mother?” Prompto excitedly asked one of the maids, shuffling the painting he’d made just for her behind his back. It was her birthday present and he’d worked tirelessly on this portrait for months just to make sure it was perfect.

“Ah,” The lady had smiled sadly, pausing her chores for a moment. “Didn’t you hear young master? She’s in bed with a fever today.”

“Oh,” Sighed Prompto dejectedly, his shoulders slumping. “Can I see her?”

“I’m ‘fraid not…” She shrugged, giving the blonde an empathetic glance. “She needs her rest at the moment.”

“Ah…” Prompto smiled politely. “I understand… If she happens to awake, tell her I say happy birthday.”

—

The next day she wasn’t any better. The thirteen-year-old blonde, blew his messy bangs from his eyes dejectedly, his face resting in the palm of his hand as he stared at the finished portrait of his mother, her gentle smile looking back at him. He hadn’t seen her at all yesterday, not even at dinner, which had been unbearable with just him, Verstael, and Loqi. The three sat in tense awkward silence as they ate.

Why couldn’t she be better already?

—

His mother never seemed to recover since that day. Slowly she began to get sicker and sicker. Every time Prompto visited his mother in her bed-chamber it was like watching the life slowly get drained from her. His mom’s marigold hair lost its shine, being replaced by a dull grey, and her once lively blue eyes seemed to only light up a fraction of what they used to when she laid her eyes upon her sun drop.

“Mother.” Prompto had smiled sadly at her bedside, finally showing her the portrait he’d completed a month ago at that point. “Happy belated birthday.”

She’d smiled fondly just as she had all those years ago, raising a shaking porcelain hand to delicately trace the paint strokes along the surface of the canvas.

“My sun drop.” She’d smiled weakly, glancing tenderly at her son. “It’s beautiful.”

“Get some rest mother.” He smiled, hiding all the sadness in his gaze behind a thin veil of happiness. “I’ll visit you later.”

—

The day his mother died was a cold one. Wind rattled the windows to their estate, and no matter where you went the chill seemed to seep into each part of the house.

It must have been years since their home had been as quiet as it is now, reminiscent of when it had only been the four of them. Not a single one of the workers dared make a noise, throwing sympathetic glances his way as the young blonde made his way to his mother’s office, numbly looking around at all the trinkets that had once been hers.

Verstael had left a good chunk of the funeral preparations to him and their servants, claiming that “he’d known her best.” In private Prompto bit back sobs, mumbling about how he was her husband, why did he have to do something that was so obviously painful to him?

Yet Prompto did it anyways. No matter how much he didn’t want to think about it, it was up to him to make sure his mother was buried properly, despite the fact he was only fourteen.

—

“Don’t touch that!” Prompto yelled at Loqi, abrupt hatred pouring into his voice. It’d only been a week since her funeral and his blonde step-brother had already decided all that’d belonged to her somehow now belonged to him.

“Touch what?” He scoffed, throwing a scowl at the portrait of Prompto’s mother he held in his tight grip.

“Don’t.” Growled the blonde in unhidden resentment.

Loqi rolled his eyes, ignoring Prompto’s obvious warning as he haphazardly tossed the painting across the room to land in an unorganized pile of other things his step-brother was supposedly throwing out.

Prompto’s eyes narrowed with malice as he marched up to Loqi, who looked at him more with confusion than annoyance at this point. He grabbed for the other boy, letting out a yelp of anguish.

Loqi dogged his attack and lifted his arms to block as Prompto prepared to swing again, throwing his fist back.

The blonde couldn’t see anything but red as he repeatedly bashed at his stepbrother's face, causing the other to fall to the ground as Prompto straddled him, never once loosening his tempo of punches. Loqi screamed in defiance, scratching at Prompto’s arm, leaving obvious red marks. In retaliation, the young artist grabbed the other by his hair, lifting his head to be eye level with his.

“Shove off Prompto!” He howled, tearing at Promptos's grip but it wouldn’t budge, his grip only tightening as they sat in a stand still.

“Apologize.” the blonde gritted out through tears. “Apologize to her, my mother.”

Loqi refused, digging his nails into Prompto’s skin, causing his grip to loosen for only a brief period of time. His step-brother didn’t waste another second, hastily ripping his hair from the others grip and making a mad dash for the door, leaving with a soon-to-be black eye and his tail tucked between his legs.

Prompto was too bewildered to follow, staring down numbly at the hand that’d so harshly gripped at Loqi’s head only moments ago.

‘He’s probably going to tell Verstael.’ The blonde warned himself. What was to happen this time? Verstael and him had never gotten along to well before and now that his mother was gone, he might do something he’d never even consider when his late wife had been alive. The blonde man had done nothing so far to warrant such thoughts from Prompto but he knew the way he looked at him, his gaze barely hid the unmistakable joy he garnered from his stepson’s pain.

—

“Master Prompto, Lord Besithia wants to see you.” Softly called Cindy from the door to his mother's room. Just like the blonde she’d grown so much in the past few years, resembling her grandfather more and more as the years past.

Prompto sighed, looking at the painting he’d moved back to its original spot. Those few words might as well have been his final sentence, one that sent a chill up his fourteen-year-old body's spine.

He begrudgingly pulled himself up the stairs to his step-father's room, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Prompto hesitated once he was finally face to face with the towering door of his step fathers residence, lifting a fist to knock but pausing before it could actually hit the wood.

“Come in.” Called Verstael’s deep voice from within the bed-chamber. Prompto swallowed nervously, cracking open the door ever so slightly to slip into the room.

It was silent, and Prompto suddenly became extremely aware of how loudly he was breathing. The only thing that illuminated Verstael’s desk was the sliver of light coming from outside. The menacing blonde sat laid back in his chair ink and quill in hand, he seemed to be looking over some document as he lifted his head to look at his stepson.

For once Prompto was terrified of his stepfather. Before it’d only been mild discomfort, grimacing whenever Verstael patted him firmly on the shoulder. Now he was completely at the older man's mercy, there was nothing he could do to stop him.

“I heard you got in a ‘battered my son to a bloody pulp?” He asked raising a disapproving eyebrow.

Bloody pulp was a pretty big word, the most Prompto could’ve done was left some red mark on Loqi’s skin, maybe a bruise or two, nothing to warrant bleeding.

Still, Prompto didn’t want to argue, weakly nodding his head as he bit his lip in fear.

“Prompto…” The older blonde sighed, shaking his head as he leaned back in his cushioned chair. “Whatever will I do with you?”

Prompto looked at the ground, fiddling with his fingers as he nervously anticipated his punishment.

“Look,” Started Verstael. “I know we’re all grieving, but you must understand that I have a responsibility to take care of this house, to take care of you. In order to do that I’m going to need you to start following my rules.”

Prompto nodded solemnly, his hands fidgeting behind his back.

“And if you aren’t going to follow those rules I’m going to need to punish you, behavior like this can’t go unchecked, after all, we can’t have you tarnishing my reputation with outbursts like these…”

The blonde was silent.

“Ah- what am I saying… Come here Prompto.” His stepfather called, a playfully eerie smile creeping onto his lips, arms open wide in expectation.

Prompto nervously walked up to Verstael as he placed a heavy hand on his stepson’s shoulder, his rough grip patting harshly on his back in mock comfort.

“I know we all miss her…” He pouted and despite Prompto’s young age, he could clearly hear the lie in his step-fathers proclamation of grief.

“But- …I am the lord of this house now.”

The sentence sent a chill down the blonde’s spine, swiftly pulling himself from the already excruciatingly awkward stance. The younger of the two backed away from his stepfather, his eyes filled with the potential of tears. Verstael seemed so much more terrifying now like he was a predator stalking his prey as if Prompto was a moth pinned under a light to be observed.

The artist shuffled farther away, glancing around nervously in an attempt to look for a quick escape, knowing full well it was futile.

“Stay.” Growled Verstael lowly and Prompto froze like a deer in headlights, all potential thoughts of fleeing eradicated.

“You struck my son, correct?” Verstael remarked, stretching out his hand as if expecting Prompto to give him his arm.

The blonde looked nervously from his hand to his stepfather's stubble-covered face, holding his wrist as if in fear of what the other might be planning.

“I haven’t all day here boy, hand it over.” He rolled his eyes in impatience, shaking his hand up and down as if in emphasis.

Prompto, in fear of what his stepfather might do if he didn’t comply, wearily produced his wrist, the underside of his arm’s soft skin standing in dark contrast to Verstael's gruff hand as he gripped the blonde’s thin bone.

“Loqi may be just a child right now but I assure you he’ll surpass you in everything, he is after all my son.” Lectured his stepfather, looking Prompto’s wrist up and down, moving the limb up and down in observation.

“You best to remember that boy.”

Prompto glanced fearfully at the man in front of him. What was Verstael planning?

“Because this is the first time you’ve disobeyed me I’ll go easy on you, remember any other sort of riffraff and I’ll do much worse.”

Before Prompto could even utter a- ‘yes sir’ Verstael had rung a bell next to his stationary, calling for a servant impatiently.

“Start a fire,” He demanded. “And bring me a branding iron from outside.”

Prompto’s eyes widened in shock, wiggling in Verstael’s grasp as servants began filing into the room, sparing him sympathetic glances as they began stroking a fire in his step-father’s hearth.

“Hold still.” He commanded as the older blonde tightened his iron grip on Prompto’s wrist.

“They’ll bring the iron soon enough.”

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