#in that case i have dozens of nephews

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not wanting my (35m) wife's (30f) siblings to be our children's guardians if something happens to us?

We have a 4 month old son. Even before he was born my wife expressed that she wants her younger brother (18) and sister (15) to be his godparents. I was raised Jewish and she Catholic and we're not religious. My wife always made it clear this was just a title.

Now that her parents are planning a christening party for him, they brought up that we should get wills made just in case anything ever happens to us. I agreed entirely - until her parents mentioned that her siblings would be the ones to get custody of our son.

I was so taken back and her parents started rapidly explaining that they'd LOVE to be his guardians but they're in their 50s (and my parents in their 60s) and it wouldn't be fair to anyone to have them raise the baby, but of course they'd help until the brother and sister are old enough to raise them alone. And her brother's girlfriend is practically part of the family and if they get married after college, BAM, he can take full responsibility.

My wife was just kind of avoiding my gaze so I finally told them that as much as I love my siblings in law, they are kids themselves! Her brother only just turned 18. No way would I make them the guardians of my son at their age.

My wife finally snapped that she'd never let MY brother raise her kid. My younger brother and his wife (both 33) have been together since college and were married before my wife and I even met. My wife pointed out that they have no kids, but that doesn't mean they wouldn't gladly raise our son if something happened. They love him.

My inlaws left the room at that point and we got into it. I asked why she never told me she expected her siblings to be our son's guardian. She said she'd never in a million years let my brother have her son, even if she was dead. She started bad mouthing him and saying how suspicious it is that they've been together years and don't have kids. I told her that's none of our business and she said it is because why would they want our son when they haven't bothered to have kids of their own.

After we calmed down I asked if we could sit down with my brother and sister in law to see how they'd feel about the idea. She said absolutely not because her mind is made up and it's important to keep our son in the family - HER family. I told her I will never let her TEENAGE siblings raise my son because in what world is that okay?? I suggested that down the line (when they're older) we can change our minds but for now my brother seems like the logical choice.

All of my inlaws have been texting me constantly about this, especially her little sister. She's told me a dozen times raising her nephew would be an honor - this has weirded me out to no end. I finally told my wife they all need to stop or we're not doing the christening either.

I feel like I'm taking crazy pills here but AITA??

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[bisexuallsokka]

25 from the prompt list!! :)

25. a kiss as a 'yes'

Zuko can't keep his eyes off Sokka.

This is nothing new, of course. At this point in their years of marriage, preceded by years of friendship that turned into years of dating, Zuko is sure he has spent hours of his life staring at Sokka.

This, though...this is different.

He watched Sokka's brilliant smile all night as he played and talked with his niece and nephews for hours. He saw Sokka running around with them, playing tag and hide and go seek and half a dozen games the kids had invented until Sokka needed to rest his knee and found himself with a lap full of three young kids mere moments after sitting down. Zuko smiled fondly as Sokka read the three of them books until all four of them were on the verge of falling asleep. Zuko saw every hug and forehead kiss he gave the kids as they said their goodbyes, saw Sokka's eyes getting misty at their protest of his leaving, saw the content smile on his face as he drove.

Once they are home and getting ready for bed, Sokka catches him looking a few times until he grins and teases, "Is there something on my face?"

Zuko smiles. "No. I just...I love how much you love those kids. I love them too, of course, but you are crazy about them. It's cute."

"Yeah, well, I can't help it that they are so cute."

"They're getting so big," Zuko says. "Do you ever...miss when they were smaller?"

Sokka shrugs. "I thought I would, but I love seeing their personalities emerge as they grow. It's so funny seeing them act just like Aang or Katara."

"Don't you miss their newborn snuggles though?" Zuko asks.

Sokka eyes him suspiciously. "Obviously. I'm not a monster. Wait, did you-" he starts, eyes lighting up for a moment before he calms down. "Never mind. No way is Katara pregnant, she's told me she's done having kids." He still gives Zuko a side eye, and Zuko laughs.

"She's not pregnant, no. We were talking about something else all night."

"Okay," Sokka says, giving him his full attention, now definitely on Zuko's case. "It has to do with babies?"

Zuko nods, trying his hardest to not betray his nervousness. He's not nervous about what he's trying to ask Sokka, he knows he wants it, but he also knows how badly Sokka wants it, so Zuko wants this moment to be special. Sokka, looking confused, just waits for Zuko to elaborate, and Zuko swallows. "Well, I've been talking with Azula-"

"She is pregnant?" Sokka says, eyebrows shooting up, and Zuko can't help but laugh at the bewildered expression on his face.

"No, definitely not," he says quickly. "She just-- well, you see, she's been...she's a lawyer, yeah? And not the kind that we...but she has connections...she has some good recommendations..."

Sokka looks completely lost, so Zuko stops, takes a deep breath, and says, "She gave me a list of good family lawyers. Ones that have experience with adoption cases."

At first, he thinks Sokka hadn't heard him, he's more still than Zuko has ever seen him in his life. But then, his eyes widen, barely enough for Zuko to notice. Zuko doesn't think he's even breathing.

"This is something that we have talked about but we always dropped it, leaving it for some future discussion because we were busy or low on money or distracted by one thing or another. I know how badly you want kids, and I was nervous about it at first, but now I know how badly I want to have kids with you, and it's been all I can think about the last few times we have been at Katara's, and I swear she read my mind because she started talking about it tonight and everything just feels right, so if you are ready, if you think it's a good time-"

He doesn't get to finish his rambling. Sokka shoots across the room, his hands gently cradling Zuko's face as he looks into his husband's eyes. Sokka's own eyes are wide and excited and so damn beautiful, and he says, "You're serious?"

"More serious than I've ever been ab--hmmph!"

He's taken by surprise as Sokka interrupts him again, this time with a kiss so fierce it honestly kind of hurts. Zuko smiles into it nonetheless, his arms reaching for Sokka's waist to pull him closer.

Sokka's lips widen into a smile as well, and when they pull back, Zuko asks, "So is that a yes?"

"Of course it's a yes, you dumbass," Sokka says, going for exasperated but failing as his tears are overflowing and Zuko reaches a hand up to wipe them away, not registering his own tears until Sokka does the same for him.

#me 🤝 sokka: being completely obsessed with our sibling's kids #i will never have my own though that is where we differ #peanut butters my jam #ask me stuff #my writing #prompts #this is jo's evil twin the one who loves dads zukka id like to dedicate this to all the fellow zukka dads nation members out there #esp their ceo dani marriedzukka

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Matt Murdock’s child (Part 4)

Matt Murdock x child!reader

warnings:

a/n: thank you guys so much for waiting patiently for this!!! (except for that one anon who got an attitude with me for not writing this fast enough for them if you’re reading this, learn some manners) anyways, so glad that i finally finished daredevil, now i just gotta push through the last few defenders shows (and catch up on everything else i’ve missed in the past year. haha. fuck.

prompt:

part 1 part 2 part 3

everything was just so shitty.

you had to hold it together and pretend like your dad was just on a very long work trip

it wasn’t like you didn’t plan for this. i mean, you had a dozen notes in his handwriting ready for any occasion, just in case something unexpected happened

to whom it may concern, i have been hired by a client residing in california for an undisclosed amount of time. i will be leaving my child, y/n murdock, in the care of their godfather, franklin nelson. due to my condition, i have granted mr. nelson legal permission to make decisions on y/n’s behalf if i am ever unable to, including this period in time. if you have any questions, please call. matthew murdock.

you read that page over and over again while foggy shuffled around your dad’s apartment, gathering all of your stuff and anything of your dad’s you’d want to hang onto

“you know, marci is fixing up the guest room to be more…you. i think when you see it you’re gonna love it” -foggy

you were half spaced out trying to wrap your head around everything

and you were still so pissed off

it made foggy feel even more guilty

“i got their father killed. if i didn’t bring him that suit, given him my blessing, he’d still be here to raise his kid” -foggy

“you’re being too hard on yourself, foggy bear. the others made it out, he chose to stay. that’s not on you” -marci

“it doesn’t feel like that. i mean, every time i look at y/n i feel like they blame me” -foggy

“blame you? y/n loves you. you’ve always been there for them and they are well aware of that” -marci

you kind of hated karen for a while

i know it’s harsh, but almost every time you saw her, she wanted to give you hope instead of helping you grieve

“maybe he’s still out there somewhere, sweetie” -karen, attempting an embrace

you just wanted her to ditch your old apartment and let you move on with what you had left

on a more lighthearted note, you’d always been welcome in the nelson family

“y/n! honey, come here! lord, foggy, y/n looks like you’ve been starvin’ them!” -foggy’s mom

“aw, no, uncle foggy’s—” -you

“nonsense, dear. theo! fix your lovely [niece/nephew/nibling] a sandwich!” -momma nelson

“mom—” -foggy

“don’t even start, y/n’s in our kitchen now. the nelson meats kitchen”

you always felt best surrounded by all that love

meanwhile, your father laid in the church you grew up with. and no intention of calling you up

“matthew, your child. where are they?” -sister maggie

“they’re safe, safer than they’ve ever been” -matt

you had your days ever since midland circle’s collapse though

some days you could be okay, just getting by. you knew deep down you’d be losing him soon, and you were well prepared

other days were violent fits of rage and sorrow, punching bags and screaming and crying

and a time or two, you’d do it in front of foggy

“he left me! he left me for her and he didn’t even say goodbye! and i’m supposed to forgive him?! fuck him, he chose to do this to me, he’s a piece of shit and he i’m glad he’s gone!” -you, screaming through sobs in the middle of the night

foggy would grab you so tight and wouldn’t let go until you were calm again

and marci would cry to herself as she listened, not fully able to process all of your emotions

but she tried as best as she could, she just didn’t have the deep bond you and foggy did (but she definitely did everything she could for you)

she’d have lil lunch dates with you, just you two

“foggy tells me you got another 100 on your test? that’s always a good thing, especially in a class as tough as that” -marci

“yeah, foggy’s kind of my cheerleader when it comes to that stuff” -you

“any ideas for the day? i could take you to a salon or a game…maybe an arcade or a movie?” -marci

honestly you couldn’t express to her how much she really helped you get through the day

foggy and theo came up with the idea to hire you at the sandwich shop, that way you had something to keep you busy and foggy felt less pressured to help out there

it did help get your mind off things—until little whispers of a familiar vigilante started popping up

the day foggy found out matt was still alive…he wanted to kill him for you

“you’re back! does karen know? oh, matt, y/n’s gonna be so happy, they—they’ve been so down since it all happened—” -foggy

“slow down, foggy. i’m…not actually back. matt murdock, he’s gone” -matt

foggy started to get very frustrated by matt’s explanation

“hold on just a second here, matt. your child—for months on end—has been grieving the loss of their father, wishing they could have him back. i’ve done everything i can to keep that kid afloat, destroyed myself watching them fall apart…and you’re not even gonna consider seeing y/n?” -foggy, beginning to raise his voice and hit the table

“they’re safer without me. just keep them far away from fisk. please.” -matt

foggy didn’t even want to mention it to you. he felt awful keeping secrets from you, but knowing your father was out there and wouldn’t see you? after sacrificing himself for elektra? you’d be a mess

but it didn’t stay secret for long once you and foggy were questioned together by the FBI

you kept cool about it in front of agent nadeem, playing along just right. but once that door closed

“he’s alive?! he’s alive and you just didn’t tell me?! and he met with you, why the hell hasn’t he seen me yet?!” -you, weakly trying to attack foggy as you began to cry, he pulled you in for a hug

“i’m sorry, kid. i’m so sorry. i don’t have a lot of answers right now” -foggy

“where is he? i want to see him” -you

you knew the moment you saw him you’d unleash hell

matt did feel guilty not reuniting with you, you were his only child and you just experienced the same pain he had as a child, but he kept justifying it as “protecting you” much to the sister’s dismay

and plans were hashed not long after, you were left out of them all and put under marci’s care

chinese takeout and a tv show marathon was a great plan until you both picked up your phones, shocked to see an attack going on where your friends and family were supposed to be

you were terrified, but you saw marci terrified, too. you were there for her the same way she always was for you

things blew over, you got out of the house to clear your head

matt went back to the church, still hellbent on ending all this

“matthew…i think you should see y/n. think of all they’ve been through, to see you again would, well, it would be a blessing” -sister maggie

“i have to keep them as far away from this as i can” -matt

“they won’t get too far, being a murdock and all. it’s not just your nature, it’s the name. that name is being thrown around everywhere, maybe you could do the protecting this once” -maggie

“can’t risk it, especially not after this imposter daredevil is on the loose. no morals, no self control, he’s dangerous” -matt

“matthew, what would you do if your father ended up being alive after believing he was gone for so long?” -maggie

that happened to put things into perspective, just the one question

unfortunately he got a bit sidetracked overhearing the prayers of maggie, his mother

but matt couldn’t run or hide from you anymore, couldn’t demand foggy keep you away

so he showed up at foggy’s apartment, knocking on the door gently as he knew you were the only one home

when you looked through the peephole, you saw a battered version of your dad, nothing changes

but you flung that door open so fast and…punched him in the chest a dozen times

“you—piece of shit—motherfucker—how could you?! i hate you! i hate you! selfish asshole!” -you

he let it happen, he thought it’d make you feel better until you wore yourself out

“where the hell were you?” -you, sobbing

“doesn’t matter, i’m here now” -matt

“no, you aren’t. you always have something else come up. always” -you

what an inconvenient time for his phone to ring

you heard the message, you knew he had to be somewhere

that was the first time you felt in the loop in a while, though. hearing the message of where he needed to be. that was all you wanted, was to know what was going on. it was the tiny bit of control you needed

there was nothing glamorous about this life, for sure. the idea of him being out there still made you sick.

fogwell’s gym was the next place you saw him, with agent nadeem and foggy

“really exciting being on fisk’s shitlist, huh?” -you to nadeem, fidgeting with old equipment

“cut it out, y/n” -matt

“what? this isn’t our first time around the block, that’s why we’re hiding here” -you

it’d been a while since you’d been here, you used to hang out cuz “abandoned shit is cool”

you were currently taking your anger and anxiety out on a punching bag, revisiting your old karate lessons from way back when

*while talking testimony with nadeem and foggy* “that is…so distracting. hang on, let me just—” -matt, stopping when his arm was grabbed

“no, they need this. leave it alone” -foggy

matt sighed an nodded, feeling like he was in no place to parent at the moment

karen decided to stand with you and watch

“so…you were right” -you

“you don’t seem too happy about that” -karen

“believe me, wish i could be. but do you recognize him? like, really?” -you

“i…i know. he’s changed. but maybe once this all blows over…i think he’ll go back to himself. be a friend—a dad again” -karen

“sure as hell not to me” -you, scoffing “he’s done picking and choosing when he can be my father. i was always supposed to come first”

karen understood. she knew exactly what you meant and she felt it so deeply, but she wanted for you what she couldn’t have anymore

you hadn’t stopped hitting the punching bag as you talked to her

“can i get it a whirl?” -karen

she got a few good hits in, they were noticed by present company

from there, you stuck with foggy. the least likely of the bunch to get shot!

and court did not go spectacularly either, making you feel just as on edge as before

“y/n, listen, i’m not gonna let anyone hurt you. have they ever gotten to you before? no, and it’s gonna stay that way” -matt, cupping your face in his hands to hold as if it were the last, which it was starting to feel that way for the both of you

“you’re not good at promises. you’re gonna leave again” -you, tears beginning to stream down your face

“no, no. well, yeah, for a little bit. it’s fine, y/n, we’re gonna be fine. i love you, okay?” -matt

foggy took you home and you just shut down again. and although there was a LOT of work to do, marci and foggy always made time for you

“y/n, foggy’s making dinner. you wanna help me make dessert? i’m thinking…cupcakes?” -marci

“do we have the good frosting?” -you

“of course, kiddo, i’d never let us run out” -marci, winking

she got a smile out of you and you rushed to the kitchen with her, which lifted both of their spirits of course

but nothing could be calm forever, bodies dropped every minute and you could only wonder “was that my dad?”

and lord help him, he asked for it every day

especially when, after a few more issues arose, he marched straight into the presidential hotel with faux-daredevil

“you…you keep my secret…keep away from my friends…my kid!” -matt

“heh…your kid. ever think they’re gonna follow in your footsteps? you’ll be long gone, i’ll still be here. with them. maybe they’ll be out for revenge, who knows?” -fisk

“you say anything else, vanessa goes down with you. it’s over, fisk. now swear to me, my kid is safe!” -matt

“i swear…just leave vanessa out of it, i’ll leave y/n out of it” -fisk, surrendering

you were watching the news as it happened, stunned, shocked, in awe. it was better than the last time

“foggy let me drink last time they put fisk away” -you

“jesus, weren’t you like, thirteen?” -marci “i mean, now’s fine, that’s about the age i started partying. what the hell? i’ll get the good stuff out. just a little bit though, dont get your hopes up”

(it was like four “little bits” but you weren’t complaining)

you knew it was coming and you acted surprised anyways

“y/n. i am the shittiest dad in the world” -matt

“well aware” -you, arms crossed after he started the conversation that way

“just another chance. i wanna be your dad, i wanna be there for you, you’re like, the best kid anyone could ask for. foggy’s gotta feel pretty lucky having you around” -matt

“last time i gave you another chance to be in my life, you gave it up for elektra. a second time—third if. you count law school” -you

“she’s gone, out of the picture. died under midland circle” -matt, sort of comically waving her off in front of you like he was over it

“yeah? you survived it. and she came back from the dead. how do i know she isn’t gonna pop up out of nowhere again and ruin our relationship again” -you

“i can’t stress enough how little everything matters compared to you right now. i’ll do anything, y/n. i can’t lose you again” -matt

god, you were angry with every word that came out of this mouth. same old spiel. but then again

“i don’t wanna lose you again” -you

matt grinned at you

“i bet you’re smiling back at me” -matt

“you’re on really thin ice, like paper thin. you better cut it out” -you

“that’s fair, i’ll stop…for now” -matt

you did have to go to father lanthom’s funeral, which was a drag. you may not have asked him for as much forgiveness as your dad, but he was still a pretty big part of your life

“hey, y/n. i know i forgot to mention this…but sister maggie? you know her, she’s around. i just found out she’s your grandmother” -matt

“good one” -you, pretending to laugh. matt didn’t laugh though. “you’re not joking? man, you’re telling me that nun is your mom…and you found out when?”

you all went to nelson’s meats afterwards

“so, you make a mean sandwich, i heard” -matt

“im off the clock” -you “and i don’t serve the blind”

“wow, dark! you know that’s discrimination, right? we could take you to court over that. nelson, murdock and page’s first case?” -foggy

“ok, noted. no more blind jokes…is it sound if i don’t serve vigilantes?” -you

“yeah, it’d hold up better in court. having the right to refuse service to anyone” -matt

“hold on, i still can’t get over the fact y/n just said they hate blind people” -karen, nearly snorting

“did not! i’ve only historically hated to blind people…” -you, being stared at for an answer “stick? right, you know?”

“who?” -karen

“alright, can we get back to mourning with nelson’s meats? i mean, we work hard to bury those sorrows in your stomachs” -foggy

“hey! that can be the new slogan!” -you “and your new law firm’s can be ‘we sue teenagers’”

these happened to be your people. no matter what you all went through, you always ended up back here.

BONUS

“can i meet him? spiderman? pleaaaase?” -you

“how many times have we been over this. i didn’t let you meet jessica and i’m not gonna let you meet peter, do you want me to get disbarred?” -matt

BONUS (PT2)

“you’re coming back to new york, right?” -you, over the phone

“of course i am, i told you i just owed a favor to someone out here, i’ll be home soon” -matt

“foggy says that he will take me back if you bail again, and he doesn’t care if i’m legally an adult either” -you

“well, too bad, he can’t have you” -matt

“please don’t tell me you and the she-hulk lady are quote-unquote, ‘friends’” -you

“how do you do that?” -matt

“you’re predictable” -you

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @zoeyserpentluck // @wild-rose-35 // @ipurpleeyou // @nekoannie-chan // @punk-rock-raven // @evilcr0ne // @minxsblog // @v0idl1nq // @sydknee624 // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston //@multifandomfix // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @kik51199 //

#matt murdock #matt murdock x teen!reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x child!reader #matt murdock imagine #dad!matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil imagine #daredevil x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #murdock!reader #defenders #defenders x reader #defenders imagine

[ladykailitha]

If I Rescue You, Will You Rescue Me, Too? Part 2

The Corroded Coffin boys are here and ain’t down with Eddie have to share a room with Steve fucking Harrington. (Don’t worry they come around, just some faster than others.)

Part 1

*

Steve woke up to the sound of two heart monitors beeping in rhythm to each other. He moaned and he could feel that there was someone holding his hand.

“Steve?” Robin asked.

His eyelashes fluttered and he could blearily make out her face. “Robs?”

She reached over the guardrail and pressed a button repeatedly. Two nurses came rushing in.

“He’s awake!” Robin told them excitedly.

The first nurse started taking readings on all the machines he was hooked up to while the other came over with a cup of ice chips.

She pressed the cup to Steve’s lips. He gasped when the cold ice hit his mouth and then slid down his throat. He greedily drank more until she pulled the cup away.

“How are we feeling today, Mr Harrington?” the first nurse asked.

“Steve,” he insisted. “Mr Harrington makes me feel old.”

Robin giggled. “You are old.”

“Steve, then,” the nurse said with a smile. “On a scale between zero and ten how would you rate your pain? Zero being none at all, five being it hurts a lot and I can deal with it, and ten being kill me, kill me now.”

Steve laughed. “Um...I’d say a four. It hurts but not a lot, a lot, if you know what I mean.”

The second nurse twisted a little nob on the equipment and suddenly Steve felt a rush of relief.

“That should help,” the first nurse said. “The doctor will be in in about ten minutes to go over your prognosis.”

Steve nodded. The two nurses left and he looked at Robin. “How’s Eddie?” He hadn’t bothered to ask the nurses because they would have told him he wasn’t family and not given him a damn thing.

She stood up and pulled back the curtain. There on the other side was Eddie still asleep with an older man clutching Eddie’s hand to his lips.

The man looked up for the first time and saw them watching him. He cleared his throat and stood up.

Steve watched as the man walked up to him.

“I’m Wayne Munson,” he said, introducing himself. “And you saved my boy.”

“Steve Harrington,” Steve replied and stuck out his hand.

Wayne smiled. “I know who you are, son. This girly and about a half dozen feral children have been telling me all about you.”

Steve blushed. “I’m sure they’re over-selling it.”

Wayne raised an eyebrow. “I really don’t think they are.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Steve asked, looking over at Eddie. He looked so small. So...dim. The Eddie Munson Steve had gotten to know in the Upside Down was always so bright and animated. But there was none of that now.

“Oh yeah,” Wayne said with a grin that Steve recognized even if it was a little strange seeing it on another face. “He woke up before you did.” He jutted his thumb at his nephew.

Steve grinned back. “He always did have a flare for the dramatic.”

Wayne’s grin softened to a warm smile. “That he does. The first thing you should know is, he would want you to know is that the government pulled their cover up bullshitery and he’s been cleared of all charges. He’s a free man. And they’ve given me the name of a good lawyer in case I wanted to sue the town for orchestrating that witch hunt.”

Steve let out a sigh of relief and all the tension that was in his body melted away. “That’s really good news, sir. This town will never believe it but that’s good to hear.”

Wayne chuckled. “I think they just might.”

Steve frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You know what close-minded assholes love more than an outsider to hunt?” Steve shook his head. “A venerated hero to topple. They placed the blame on the dead Carver kid.”

Steve blinked as his eyebrows crept slowly up his forehead. “Jason is dead?”

Wayne nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“Shit.” Steve reached out for Robin’s hand again and she took his, giving it a squeeze.

Wayne grasped the guardrails of the hospital bed and breathed out slowly through his nose. “They said that he killed Chrissy because she was flirting with Eddie. Then killed Patrick when he refused to continue to hunt him. After all Andy’s witness statement could go for Jason as much as it could my boy.”

“And Fred?” Steve asked in morbid curiosity.

“Attacked by the same animals that got Ed.”

Steve stared at him in stunned silence. “So now everyone thinks that Jason riled up the town to hunt Eddie because he was the real killer?”

Wayne hummed. “Right in one, kid.”

Steve started laughing hysterically.

“Oi!” Eddie called from the bed next to him. “Fucking noisy neighbor. I’m trying to sleep here.”

Steve smiled. “Good to see the bats didn’t suck out all your snark.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow at Steve. “I have an unlimited supply.”

“It’s a Munson family trait,” Wayne agreed.

Steve buried his head in his hands. “Oh god, I don’t think I can handle two of them.”

Robin patted his thigh. “How do you think I felt the last three hours? It was horrible!”

Eddie and Wayne laughed.

“I like your new friends, Ed,” Wayne said with a grin. “Not that your old friends weren’t great. These two are funny.”

“And we aren’t funny?” Jeff said from the door. “You wound me!” Behind him Brian and Gareth were also making dramatic gestures.

“Guys!” Eddie cried. “Hey!”

The three of them shuffled in and they glanced at Robin and Steve warily as they passed them.

Eddie saw Gareth’s bandaged hand. “What the fuck, man?”

Gareth grinned. “Further proof that Jason Carver was the real villain. The dude tortured me to try and find out where you were.”

“Holy shit!” Eddie cursed. “That is messed up.”

They shifted nervously. “Lucas was with him.”

Steve and Robin’s heads snapped their direction.

“Seriously?” Robin squeaked.

Jeff looked over at her and nodded sheepishly.

Eddie reached out and grabbed Jeff’s wrist. “He was trying to lead them away from me but they caught on too quickly.”

Gareth gulped. “You sure?”

Even Steve and Robin were waiting on bated breath.

“Yeah, he told me,” Eddie said. “He was here earlier. He’s–he’s the reason Jason is dead.” He waved his hands wildly when he saw the stricken expressions on everyone’s faces. “He didn’t kill him or anything. Jason came looking for me at the Creel house and found Max and Lucas and Erica. Jason went crazy and started spewing a bunch of hateful shit. So Lucas punched him and because Jason was unsteady on his feet when the earthquake hit, he tumbled out the window to his death. Lucas was pretty broken up about it.”

“Poor kid,” Gareth said. “I guess it goes to show that you can’t be a nerd and jock. You can’t straddle that line and have it turn out well for anyone.”

“That’s bullshit,” Steve said. “Lucas can be good at sports and play D&D. He’s was trying protect his friends. And I hope this doesn’t kill his love for either.”

The room became deathly silent.

Brian turned to Steve. “What are you doing here, Harrington?”

Steve looked down at his hospital gown in confusion. “Being treated for the same animal bites as Eddie?”

Just then the doctor bustled in. He stopped short when he saw the large crowd at Eddie’s bed.

He cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, I need to speak to the patients regarding their care. Would you be so kind as to step out for a moment? Just a moment. You’ll be able to speak to your friend after I am done.”

Jeff and Gareth shared a glance, but Brian bristled.

“Why do we have to go?” he asked, crossing his arms in front of chest. He wasn’t a small kid by any stretch of the imagination.

“I am going over sensitive medical information,” the doctor said curtly, “that under law can only be given to the patient or to someone they have deemed by signature on a legal document to share such medical information with.” He lowered his glassed and looked Brian square in the eye. “Now do you want to comply and come back in a few minutes or do you want to be escorted out of this hospital by security and not allowed back inside unless under medical duress?”

Jeff tapped his shoulder. “Come on, man, let’s go. It’s just standard procedure. They did they same thing when my cousin Ally had her appendix out.”

Brian went begrudgingly but he did go. Robin followed them out. She wasn’t old enough to sign legal documents yet, her eighteenth birthday a month a way. So she couldn’t supersede Steve’s parents being his medical contact.

Yet.

Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6 Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12 Part 13 Part 14  Part 15 Part 16 Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20

Tag List: @anaibis​ @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1​ @zerokrox-blog​ @carlyv​ @artiststarme​ @swimmingbirdrunningrock​ @gregre369​  @itsall-taken​ @goodolefashionedloverboi​ @chaoticlovingdreamer​ @maya-custodios-dionach​ @messrs-weasley​ @val-from-lawrence​ @plyerice27​ @thedragonsaunt​ @chaoticlovingdreamer​ @sapphirecobalt-1​ @a-little-unsteddie​ @i-must-potato​ @danili666​ ​ @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog​ @justforthedead89​ @whalesharksart​ 

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #season 4 fix it #ladykailtiha writes

[nachosncheezies]

the x files season 7 ficlet, 500 words, angst

I’m bad at titles. I guess this falls under “If Mulder’s brain disease was real, why did he hide it from Scully?”

Note: I don’t really have an opinion about Mulder’s Brain Disease as a plot point; treat this as canon-adjacent or canon-divergent as it suits you.

It is hopeless, the doctors say, hopeless, his contacts agree, and he tries and tries to find his own solution - he will not give up - but hopeless is all he finds. They've seen so much, survived so much, he has put her through so much, and coming to the other side of all things to this place that is theirs is so new. No one ever said life was fair.

He remembers what it was to watch her dying. The helplessness, the anger, the desperation as a placeholder for soul-rending despair yet to come. He doesn't want that for her. He doesn't want her scouring journals, sleeping in labs, crying in the shower where she thinks he cannot hear.

She'll be furious when she finds out, he knows; she'll be furious and hurt and might never forgive him. But if this is all they have, he wants to make it count. Whether she suffers a long, drawn out goodbye over the space of months or whether she's furious for the space of weeks or days, he wants her to have something to look back on. He wants to leave her with good memories, happy memories. Something more than bitter regret for how long they took in getting here.

And so he tells her not to worry. To read her journals, work on her manuscripts. Dine with her mother. I'll check it out, he says, and I’ll call you if it's worth our time. And he does. Week after week, he does. He picks cases that are interesting, mysterious. Things that will tease at their shared curiosity and challenge their shared intellect. Things that will let them laugh, and explore, and have fun in that easy way they've so rarely experienced since their first year, since he and Deep Throat drew her into the Syndicate's crosshairs and loss became the third constant companion in their partnership.

He takes her to Huntington Beach, to Smith Mountain Lake, the Shedd Aquarium, a side trip to Nashville and some truly outstanding chicken. He finds reasons to take her west, and if he accidentally drives a little too far south down I-5 while she's napping and lands them in spitting distance of San Diego, well, it'd be a shame to waste the serendipity of an unexpected lunch with her sister-in-law and nephew. He can always finish the paperwork and meet her after.

He kisses her under the same stars in a dozen different states and watches her bloom, no longer the green and puppyfat kid from Quantico but once again graced with her easy smiles and goofy laugh. He takes a picture or two for Maggie, so that when it's all over and he breaks her daughter's heart, she'll know he did his best, that it wasn't all a waste, that for a while, he made their girl happy.

She'll be furious when she finds out, and he feels terribly guilty, but guilt is not a new companion, and her smile could rival the sun.

#x files #the x files #txf s7 #x files fanfic #xf fanfic #x files fanfiction #txf fanfic #nachos writes

[shimmerystyles]

Mistletoe Makeup - Harry x Famous!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Harry have broken up just before the holidays. You decided that fighting over tabloids and rumours were just corrupting your relationship. Is there still a chance for a reunion before Christmas? Or are you destined for a holiday full of heartbreak.

word count: 3.9K

warnings: angst, arguing and swearing, accusations of cheating (if you blink you'll miss it), a happy ending (pinky promise (;)

You've been keeping yourself busy for days and days now as you had just broken up with your boyfriend, Harry a few weeks prior. He was your person, the one you did everything with as often as you could, so to go from having that outlet to losing it so quickly you tried your best to preoccupy yourself.

You turn the Christmas tree lights on to fill the once dark living room you were sitting in. As sad as you were, the holidays were your favourite time of year.

You've baked enough cookies to gift everyone and their nephews a few for the holidays, you've watched and rewatched Schitt's Creek three times and now, a fourth time.

"Why can't I have a love like David and Patrick, Ellie?" Your cat comes and sits next to you, purring into your lap. You smile and pet her head. "At least you love me, right baby?" She licks your hand once and nuzzles her head back into your lap.

You grab your phone with your free hand and turn it back on, your phone flooding with messages and missed calls you were meant to get back to but just never had the energy to.

One person remained missing from these messages.

Harry.

You knew he was probably going through his own grief but it still hurt that he wasn't apart of the urgency of needing you like the rest of the people in your notifications.

You decide to call back your manager, Maria, seeing as she left dozens of messages for you.

"Y/N? Oh thank goodness you picked up. You have an event tonight, girl. I was nervous that I was gonna have to cancel on them."

You sigh. "Maria, I don't really feel up for an event tonight. I don't feel up for anything really."

"Y/N, I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't this important, honey. I've cancelled carpet appearances and rescheduled meetings for you, but this is an important event. I can't cancel this one."

"Okay."

"Great, I'm sorry honey. Your stylist and team will be up shortly. This is Columbia Records holiday gala. You'll be seated with friends and familiar faces so it'll be a nice environment for you."

You felt your stomach drop. "Is Harry gonna be there?"

Silence filled the other end of the line.

"He will be there, yes. Not seated at your table, to my knowledge. If that's the case, I will call the event immediately and have you moved."

You gulped and breathed out slowly. "I can do this." You say through the phone.

"That's my girl. See you later, honey." The line clicks and you throw your phone across the couch.

"Well, Ellie. So much for finding out if Ted and Alexis get back together." She meows at you and you scoff.

"I KNOW i've seen it three times and know what happens, but let me live okay?" She rubs up against your hand and you smile.

"You're lucky you're cute."

The team came upstairs almost immediately following the call. "Y/N!" They exclaimed, rolling their stuff inside. You wave and smile weakly and your MUA, Marty pulls you in for a hug. "We're gonna make you SO hot babe, don't you worry!"

You sit and take his hand in yours. "Don't worry, hun. We got you."

You close your eyes and let them work their magic. Curling your hair and pinning pieces back. Natural but sparkly makeup. The dress, a red off shoulder sparkly gown with a high slit.

"That gowns too beautiful for me. I don't think I would pull that off." You chuckle nervously.

"Are you KIDDING?" Your stylist, May exclaims.

"May, I'm serious!" You laugh some more at her reaction.

"Baby, you're drop dead GORGEOUS. The dress is wearing YOU." She motions you over to the bathroom to change.

She helps you slip into the dress and turns you to the mirror. "You. Look. PERFECT!" She squeals. You smile softly. You felt beautiful, the most beautiful you've felt in days.

"Thank you, guys. Let's get tonight over with." You flip hair over your shoulder and they laugh.

------

The driver parks in front of the red carpet and gets out to open the door for you. You breathe in and out nervously, anticipating the crowd of paparazzi screaming questions at you as you walk.

When the door opens, you hesitate for a moment but his hand extends in to help you.

"Thank you." He smiles and nods his head as you pick up one side of your dress to lift up onto the carpet. You're immediately rushed on and off you went, posing as if nothing was wrong.

The sounds of the paparazzi's were muffled and lights were blurry but you kept composed as you walked from marker to marker as they got their shots. You reached the end of the carpet and immediately sighed and dropped the smile.

Time to face the music.

You enter the venue and are greeted by trays of champagne. You grab a glass and make your way to the seating chart, looking for your name.

Table 3;

Y/N Y/L/N Chloe x Halle + 2 James Arthur + 1 Dove Cameron + 1

You froze as you looked at the table chart again.

Harry Styles + 1

You must've been the +1 that was added to his name but now you were independent on the list. That made you more nervous than ever. You took a couple deep breaths before you heard your name being called.

"Hey, girl! How are you?" You turn to see Dove reaching out to grab your hand. You extend it and she gives it a squeeze.

"I'm alright, Dove. How are you?" You smile weakly. She gives you a sincere look.

"I'm okay, girl. It's looking like you and I are at the same table, shall we?" She opens her arm to hook with yours and you take it.

As you enter the grand ballroom, you stand at the top of the staircase and everyone's gaze goes to you and Dove. You immediately turn your head to her and give her a confused look.

"What are they looking at, Dove?"

"Hun, they're looking at you." She rubs your hand with hers and you shake your head.

"A-are you sure?" you ask nervously. You look out into the crowd and see Harry, mouth open, in complete awe of you.

"Dove, I don't feel so well."

She gives you a nervous look. "Let's get you to the table okay?" She helps you walk down the stairs and to your assigned seats. You wave quickly to all your friends calling your name and throwing compliments out to you. When you reach your table, Dove helps you out.

"Hey guys, where are we seated?"

They gesture you to the seats on the other end of the table, away from Harry.

Thank goodness.

She walks you over to the other side and you both sit down.

"I'm sure it's because you haven't had anything substantial to eat. Hopefully they serve something better than that nasty pollock last year."

The table laughs, but you are too busy staring at Harry, who unfortunately, is staring right back. He breaks the gaze for a moment and you reach for your phone to keep yourself distracted. While scrolling Instagram, you get a text.

Harry: You look beautiful, Y/N/N.

You look up at him and he's still on his phone.

Y/N: No contact for weeks and this is the first thing you say to me?

Harry: I'm sorry, we broke up. I was pretty upset about everything.

Y/N: Even after our breakup, you didn't message me once. Not once.

Harry: That's the thing with breakups, Y/N. You end contact because the relationship you once had, was gone.

Y/N: Look at us, even after breaking up, we're still fighting.

Harry: I miss you.

You look up at him, his eyes pleading for you to say it back.

Y/N: Harry, you know I miss you.

Harry: Then what are we doing?

You sigh, feeling your eyes well up with tears. The first course is served and you take that excuse to drop the conversation you were having with your ex-boyfriend to take in the warm and spicy soup.

"This soup is so good." You say doing a little wiggle as you normally do when you like something and the table giggles at you.

"What?" You laugh back.

"It was cute, your wiggle when you like something, it's adorable." Harry says, everyone agreeing with him.

"Oh." You smile and continue to eat your soup, trying hard not to wiggle but you can't help it and Harry is mesmerized by you.

After all, you were the love of his life. It wasn't hard to see that.

-----

"That chicken was the best food they've ever served here." Dove says patting her stomach. You giggle.

"Honestly, the soup was the best part. I may dance while I eat a lot of stuff, but not with that." You joke and the table laughs with you.

Harry, hands on his face, listening to you joke and laugh with the table. A small smile creeping up on his face.

You catch his gaze as someone starts another conversation and you smile softly at him. He tilts his head towards the dance floor and you look down at your phone.

Y/N: Harry. What's happening?

Harry: Come dance with me.

Y/N: Is that the best idea?

Harry: Just come dance.

You place your phone on the table and stand up, Harry following. You walk over to his side of the table and he takes your hand softly as you guide him to the dance floor. You wrap your arms around his neck as he places his hands on your waist.

"So... how've you been?" He asks and you roll your eyes.

"How do you think, H?"

He smiles.

"Miserable, like me."

You nod.

"How did we get here, love? How did we break each other's hearts?" He asks.

--------

"You're a fucking idiot if you think I don't see the shit they're trying to pull over us." You spat at Harry as you walk away from him. He angrily follows you.

"And you're fucking crazy if you think a stupid tabloid would be true, Y/N. Never in my life have I EVER thought about cheating on you, seems like you're just insecure."

That stung.

"Fuck you, Styles. You're telling me you've NEVER been insecure either? How fucking dare you."

He scoffs. "Yeah, Y/N, I have. I see you with guys on carpets in interviews, hugging and them flirting with you. It hurts me too. But it’s not enough to drive you away from me. I feel like the second I'm seen with another woman, you grow cold and we argue and then this fucking happens."

"Oh so it's all my fucking fault then? I'm the one taking the pictures of you leaving clubs with "mystery" girls and sending them to these fucking paps?"

"I didn't say it was your fault. Jesus, Y/N, why are you acting like this?"

"You have NO idea what it's like to see these stories, made up or not, of you and girls I have no idea about "leaving parties together" or my favourite "canoodling in the back seat of an uber" like HOW am I supposed to take those pictures, Harry?"

He shakes his head. "Y/N, you're being ridiculous. You and I both know when we’re photographed with ANYONE how twisted the stories get. I love you, and only you. Fuck all the other girls I'm photographed with, fuck the paps. You're what matters."

"You just went against everything you just said. You insulted me, you made me feel like I was crazy for feeling anything about the situations I've seen you in and now you want to kiss up to me? No, not happening, Styles."

"And here you are, acting like the fucking hero and I'm the villain. Once again, you're the angel, Y/N. Congratulations." He claps sarcastically and you grumble in frustration.

“You know what? Maybe we need to break up."

The room fell silent. You both stare at eachother, chests breathing heavily after the screaming match you both just had and Harry shakes his head.

"Fine. We’re done."

Harry gathered his coat and hat and walked towards the door, slamming it. You felt your body give out on itself as you fell to the floor, tears falling as you loudly sob into your knees.

There went the love of your life, and your soul left with him.

-----

"We've been bad for eachother, Harry." You say softly. You feel yourself lean your head into his chest, he brings your arms down to his waist as you hold him in a hug, he wraps his arms around your shoulders. "We're also good for eachother, Y/N/N. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me." He places a soft kiss on the top of your head before swaying back and forth with you.

"Harry."

You lift your head up and both turn to a woman, hands on hips and Harry looks flustered.

"May I cut in?" She says in an annoyed tone.

"Of course, my apologies ma'am." You let go of Harry and immediately you feel cold. Your warmth was gone. "Y/N-"

"I'll see you later, H."

You walk towards the table and take your seat back with Dove. "Let me guess, ex problems?"

You nod. "We broke up not even a month ago and he already has a new girl. He just fed me more lies" Your voice cracking.

"Oh, honey. She's nowhere near the woman you are. You're exquisite. Trust me, he'll see what he's doing."

You stare at them dancing and talking, your face tensing up. You decide you've seen enough.

"I'm going to get some air." You stand up.

"Want me to come, girl? I'll leave my date here! He's more interested in James anyways." She giggles.

"I'm okay, I just need a few alone. Thank you for everything." You take her hand and squeeze.

"Take your time, girl." She smiles warmly before turning back to the table's conversation.

You make your way towards the exit, maneuvering your way through tables and towards the staircase.

---

"Harry, this has to be believable." Erica says nonchalantly as they dance.

"Maybe I don't want this." He tries to look over at you, but you're not in your seat. "This was the labels idea, Harry. We can't make that choice."

Harry looks up towards the staircase and takes matters into his own hands.

"I gotta go, Erica." She stops him. "Go where?"

"To follow my heart, she's not getting away this time."

Except this time, Y/N got away... again.

You had already gotten into your town car and had the driver bring you home.

Harry ran a hand through his hair and frustratedly stomped back into the venue. "Fuck" He muttered under his breath.

---

'But don't you worry, Mr. Styles. There's still one more chance to get Y/N back... patience is a virtue.'

---

As you walk inside your apartment, Ellie prances to you immediately, meowing away as she tries to rub against the sparkly gown you're in. "Sorry, baby. Let me go change."

You quickly change into this, and walk back to Ellie who greets you once again, this time purring because she's not rubbing against sequins. "Sorry, my girl. I know that must've been painful." You pick her up and carry you with her to the couch.

"Well, my love, it's you and me tonight... how do you feel about Elf this time?"

She gets comfy in your lap and you smile. "Alright, let's watch"

You hear your phone ring and you pick it up to see Harry calling. You let it go to voicemail and turn your phone off.

____

'Y/N, Y/N, don't you know that your gift can only come when you least expect it? Stop being stubborn and listen to the messages being sent your way!'

____

Christmas came quickly. Holiday dinner after holiday dinner, you forced smiles through them all as you mingled with your family when you'd rather be wrapped up in a blanket, eating your many, MANY cookies and wallowing by yourself. But here you were, in your nice clothes at your parent's house with your brother, parents and grandparents. At least you weren't alone on Christmas eve.

"Y/N, you okay?" You looked over and your brother, Charlie, looked concerned. You simply nodded. "Yeah, sorry. I'm not in a big celebrating mood." He rubs his hand on your back. "Sorry, kiddo. Hopefully the feeling changes soon. I know how much you love Christmas." he shoots you a small smile and you reciprocate it. "Thanks."

You stare down at your phone, the lock screen of you and Harry from your 6 month anniversary. You smile weakly at the photo, trying your best to hide tears. A text pops up and you open it immediately.

Harry: C'mon, Y/N. Please talk to me. I'm going crazy over here.

Y/N: What is there to say, H? Clearly you moved on, I need to do the same.

Harry: You've got it all wrong. Please.

Y/N: I'm tired of fighting, Harry.

Harry: I am too, please let me explain this and I promise I won't bother you if you don't want to hear me out.

You sigh and excuse yourself from the dinner table and walk into the nearby guest room.

-

"You've got 2 minutes, Styles." You cross your arm and start pacing around the room.

"Okay. Erica was the girl who cut in between us at the dinner. Management had her come so it wouldn't look weird of me to show up alone to the gala. I wanted to come alone, but, it wasn't my choice. She was only doing her part in all of this because her career was just starting and she really wanted to kickstart it. What better than to be seen canoodling with Harry Styles. I didn't want this, Y/N. Please believe me."

"Harry. This was exactly like the last time. Girls I don't even know being seen with you and twisting tabloids around, making themselves and you look like the "New Couple of the Year" while I sit at home wondering what's fake and what's real. I don't want to do this anymore."

"Neither do I, Y/N. I only want you. To be around you, photographed with you, going places with you. I don't want these tabloids, but sometimes they're unavoidable. I try my very best to keep to myself but one bad picture can change anyone's POV and create a story. Please, Y/N. I don't want anything else"

"I-I'm sorry Harry-"

"No. I'm not losing you this time."

"That's not your choice to make, Harry. Like you said, this isn't our decision."

"Y/N. Please. Don't give up on us."

"Have a good Christmas, Harry." Your voice cracks as you hang up the phone.

-

You take a minute to compose yourself and walk back out to the dinner table. You take your seat and Charlie notices your sadness right away. He takes your hand and you bite your lips to hold back tears. You nod frantically and he catches on right away. "You're a strong woman, Y/N. You can cry. It's okay."

You sigh and wipe your eyes. "Thank goodness I didn't wear any eye makeup." You giggle and he smiles.

"Even when you're sad, you find a way to lighten up the mood."

You smile weakly. "That's me."

"Well, kids. I think the turkey isn't going to eat itself." Your mom walks in with the last of the trays.

"Alright, let's eat everyone!" Your mom starts passing dishes around when you hear a knock at the door. Charlie gets up to answer it. You scoop some mashed potatoes on your plate and pass it over to your dad, wiggling in excitement over the food.

"Uhhh, Y/N?" Charlie peeks his head back in. "Hmm?" You say pouring gravy. "Harry's here."

You almost drop the gravy on yourself and everyone stares at you. "S-sorry, i'm coming."

You smooth your dress out and walk over to Charlie. "If you need me, come grab me." You nod and he taps your shoulder as you walk into the doorway and see Harry in a beanie, big puffy jacket and snow covering his exposed curls.

"Harry, what in the world are you doing here?"

"I told you, Y/N. I'm not losing you this time. We're going to talk."

You let him in as you see him shivering and he sighs a relief when he feels the warmth hit his face.

"Thought I was gonna freeze, I forgot how cold it gets in New York." He chuckles.

"You can hang your jacket. I'll be right back." You say as you walk over to the dining room. "I'll be just a moment, guys." Your family all nods and continues eating as you walk back to Harry, now showing his big Christmas sweater and black pants. He looked cute.

"Come." You guide him to the living room, and slide the sliding door closed so you had some privacy. "Y/N..."

"You crashing my families Christmas eve dinner wasn't on my list of things I was expecting, Styles." You crossed your arms.

"Y/N/N, just hear me out." You stop and sit across from him.

"I'm listening."

"Okay. I talked to management. I've made myself very clear what I want and what I want, is you."

You unfold your arms as he continues.

"I can't control what paparazzi's say, or tabloids, but I can avoid those things. You mean everything to me and I'll do anything to make sure you're mine forever."

You smile softly. “Okay.” You manage to get out.

“Okay?” His eyes lighten up at your acceptance.

You get up and walk over to sit with him. You stick out your pinky and he looks at you with furrowed brows.

"I want to make a promise to each other. If we see something that bothers us, we talk to each other. We communicate our feelings. We be honest and kind. Pinky promise?"

He wraps his pinky around yours. "Pinky promise."

You stand up. “Also, Ellie’s pretty upset with you so she’ll need her own apology” You look off to hold back your laughter and he chuckles.

“Of course, can’t have my darlings mad at me, can I?”

You smilie and hold your hand out to him. He gets up and you smirk.

"What?" He wraps his hands around your waist. You look up and he looks with you.

"Mistletoe... pretty convenient, don't you think?" You say wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Hmmm, i'd say so." He leans in and kisses you softly and you smile in the kiss.

"I love you, H."

"I love you, more. Y/N/N."

You kiss him one more time before grabbing his hand.

"Want to stay for dinner? My mom makes enough food to feed 20 for the 8 of us." He chuckles.

"Of course, I'd love to gas up your mom's cooking." You laugh and take him into the dining room, everyone warmly greeting him as he sits down with your family.

Christmas music plays in the background as you and your family help Harry make a plate. You smile at your family and then at Harry, your heart warm once again.

Now this was the Christmas gift you were hoping for.

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

YAY!

Another one down! Holiday!Harry is truly my favourite to write about. That and angsty harry idk whyyyy hahahhaah. i hope you guys enjoy! I have 3 more in my drafts so lets hope I can edit them well enough to post for ficmas! I’m trying my best to write something smutty but i’m not very good at it hehe my next one is gonna be a sad ended one because not EVERY story can have a happy ending, right? hehe okay i hope you guys like it!

love you all<3

#harry styles #hs #holiday!harry #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #imagines #fics #one shot #harry styles holiday imagine #harry styles x famous!y/n

[kazoosandfannypacks]

"Flowers" The Shuttle ficlet for @monthly-challenge day 4!

Whenever Bettina visited Stornham, she'd spend as much time as possible in the garden. Something about it reminded Betty of herself, in a way. A garden was a busy place, with the lives of thousands of plants that couldn't grow without a consistent hand to help, and Bettina could naught but help it. While Kedgers and his team were more than fit for the job, Bettina couldn't forget how he had responded those months ago when she spoke of her return to America.

"Not here, miss! You, not here? Things wouldn't grow, miss!"

She knew that didn't make sense scientifically, but it was a lovely thought to dwell on, and if her presence made the gardeners believe their plants could survive, who was she to say otherwise? Maybe the power of their belief in her led to a diligent work at their tasks, and if that was the case, then, given the state of the gardens, it was paying off.

Acacia bordered and carnation and ambrosia. Crocuses and zinnia and everything in between gave forth their colors. Near a fountain toward the center of the garden was a patch of bluebells, which brought a smile to Bettina's face along with a precious memory.

She stopped and took a seat on the edge of the fountain, catching a glimmer of her eyes reflected in its blue. She then produced a notebook and jotted down a few names of flowers. The gardens at Dunstanwolde didn't rank high on the list of restorations necessary in light of the crumbling state of the rest of the estate, but she was ever a planner, and she knew it wouldn't be an eternity before she found herself tromping about Dunstanwolde's sprawling lawns with her husband once again, this time to see them flecked with a glory of color and life none had seen for generations.

And as silly and sentimental as it sounded, the first flower on her list for the gardens was bluebells.

Her schemes and dreams were interrupted by a lone visitor: her nephew, Ughtred, emerging from a path on the other side of the garden.

"I didn't expect to see you out here, Aunt Betty," he said, quickly hiding his hands behind his back.

"Oh?" Bettina asked, "then may I ask what you're doing?"

He hung his head a little and held out his hands, an assortment of flowers curled up in each fist, their stems bent and some of thier roots still clinging to the earth. Any other adult with a knowledge of plants such as Betty had might've scolded him at once for picking flowers from the garden, but Betty was unlike most adults. She also knew that Ughtred was unlike most kids, and little he did was without reason.

"What are those?" Bettina asked.

"Flowers," he said, "I picked them from the garden. I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't, but I..."

His hasty excuse made it clear he expected a harsh rebuke, but instead his aunt rose, then knelt before him and took the flowers from his hands.

"Don't worry, Ughtred," Bettina said, rearranging the bouquet in her hands as she spoke, "you're not in trouble. Who are these for?"

"For mother," he said.

"All of the garden is yours and your mother's," Bettina said.

"I know," Ughtred said, "but I wanted to give her some flowers anyways."

This would be a normal notion around Mother's day, or a birthday, or anniversary, or Christmas, but this week held no such day.

"May I ask why?" Bettina asked.

Ughtred nodded. "Sometimes Grandpa Rueben gives Grandma Annie flowers. Uncle Dunstan gives you flowers, and Lord Alanby gives flowers to Lady Jane. Mother doesn't have anyone to give flowers to her, and she never has."

A wave of emotion overtook Bettina. She could recall a time in her sister's youthful days of courtship in New York when her room overflowed with the colors and fragrance of dozens of flowers from dozens of hopeful admirers, but there was much doubt that in twelve years of marriage Nigel had ever cared enough to waste her money on such a wonderful trinket of affection as even a singular daisy.

"She does," Bettina said, brushing a few clumps of dirt from the root of some of the flowers before handing them back to Ughtred, "she has you."

She kissed her nephew's forehead and stood up.

"Come with me," she said, holding her hand to him.

"Where are we going?" Ughtred asked, taking his aunt's hand in his empty one.

"First, we're going to apologize to Mr. Kedger's for tearing a few flowers from his garden," Bettina said, "then, we're gonna ask him for a special favor."

"What's that?" Ughtred asked, eyes wide with wonder, having grown quite fond in the last year of Aunt Betty's "special favors."

"A bit of earth," Bettina said, and she met his inquisitive expression with an inquisition of her own: "Ughtred, how would you like your own little garden, where you can grow whatever flowers for your mother you'd like to?"

"You mean it?" Ughtred asked.

"Now, it is a responsibility," she said, "you must make sure to check on it, every day, and follow Mr. Kedgers' instructions on anything he tells you."

"Of course," Ughtred said.

Someday, Bettina knew, Ughtred would have a garden to himself the size of Stornham estate. Someday, he'd have a responsibility to check on land much larger than a few yards of earth. It was too soon to tell how the land might flourish under his rule, but Bettina could be sure of one thing.

For as long as Ughtred lived, his mother would always have flowers.

#spring fling creations #the shuttle #shuttleposting #bettina vanderpoel #ughtred anstruthers #kazzy writes #fanfic #fanfiction

[lemonhemlock]

sometimes i don't know if i have cognitive issues or if fire and blood is just confusing and plays tricks on the reader -_- Lucerys is the heir to driftmark in the show, but in the book, did that happen? because it is not said. Is: Corlys gets sick > Rhaenyra asks his father-in-law to name his second son heir > Vaemond and his cousins/brothers and sons are furious > vaemond is murdered > viserys cuts out the velaryon's tongues > viserys cuts himself on the throne and nearly dies > his recovery party > alicent and rhaenyra dispute for the new grand maester. the only time the problem is mentioned is when the greens in their generous terms, offer to recognize lucerys as heir to driftmark, but he is never said as such, just addam.

Sorry if it's long, it's just a question I've had for a long time -_-'

Hi! I searched for the passage you're referring to:

That same year, across Blackwater Bay, the Sea Snake was stricken by a sudden fever. As he took to his bed, surrounded by maesters, the issue arose as to who should succeed him as Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark should the sickness claim him. With both his trueborn children dead, by law his lands and titles should pass to his eldest grandson, Jacaerys…but since Jace would presumably ascend the Iron Throne after his mother, Princess Rhaenyra urged her good-father to name instead her second son, Lucerys. Lord Corlys also had half a dozen nephews, however, and the eldest of them, Ser Vaemond Velaryon, protested that the inheritance by rights should pass to him…on the grounds that Rhaenyra’s sons were bastards sired by Harwin Strong. The princess was not slow in answering this charge. She dispatched Prince Daemon to seize Ser Vaemond, had his head removed, and fed his carcass to her dragon, Syrax. Even this did not end the matter, however. Ser Vaemond’s younger cousins fled to King’s Landing with his wife and sons, there to cry for justice and place their claims before the king and queen. King Viserys had grown extremely fat and red of face, and scarce had the strength to mount the steps to the Iron Throne. His Grace heard them out in a stony silence, then ordered their tongues removed, every one. “You were warned,” he declared, as they were being dragged away. “I will hear no more of these lies.”

Luke is not specifically designated as Driftmark's heir in a sentence, but the course of events heavily implies this is the case. Viserys' dishes out punishment for whoever says Luke is a bastard, so, if no one is allowed to admit it, then he becomes the heir by default. Since Vaemond's and the rest of the Velaryons' own claims rest on the fact that Luke is not Laenor's son. Had he been so, there would have been no debate in the first place.

#ask #anon #anti lucerys velaryon #anti corlys velaryon #asoiaf succession crises

[dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night]

Tales of Iyuetse: The Enemy of My Enemy part two

Whumptember day 5. “What do you want me to do?”

TW: military, religion, old prejudices, mild misogyny, societal whump, referenced child labor, referenced teenage sex work, multiple whumpees, human whumpee, vampire whumpee, distant monarch whumper

"I've been assigned to show you around," Jaran said brightly.

He grinned at Marcus, not caring a lick about his terrifying fangs. Marcus was almost glad for the strong reminder of Jaran's nature. If it weren't for his razor sharp fangs, Marcus would have fallen for that smile in a heartbeat. Despite his faith, he fell into the sin of homosexuality far too often.

"We're nowhere near as organized as the actual military," Jaran continued, not noticing Marcus' discomfort. "But there are still rules that need to be followed."

"I'm good at following rules," Marcus said. "Don't step on the grass. Don't kill the vampires you're bunking with. Don't betray anyone to the enemy. Etcetera."

Jaran laughed sharply. "We don't care if you step on the grass. But it is best to avoid murder and treachery. Both will have your body skewered on a pike."

"Ugh…" Marcus fought down nausea at the horrifying mental image. "Do vampires really do that? I thought it was hearsay."

"It's less a matter of vampires generally doing that, and more that it's General Sabine's favorite method of execution. You should see some of the… forests we put up."

What a horrible thing to talk about. Fields of men skewered like meat on a spit, left to slowly die in the blazing hot sun. When had Marcus fallen in with such wicked compatriots? Even outside their actions, the very existence of his fellow revolutionists was an affront to God.

"What do you want me to do?" Marcus asked.

"Just follow me and I'll give you the tour."

Jaran turned heel and walked briskly down the dirt road. Marcus followed him around the small camp, taking stock of where they kept weapons and supplies. The whole place was an old ghost town, Jaran had enthusiastically explained, abandoned after the collapse of a nearby silver mine.

Despite the town's decrepit state, the revolutionists had made good use of the old homes and businesses. Many families of the revolutionists lived in the houses, filling them with life and spirit once again. Soldiers bunked in old general stores and banks, now filled with cots. Temporary tents were also set up for military use, as the few dozen buildings were filled to capacity.

"Does it bother you that we're standing above a massive silver deposit?" Marcus asked Jaran. "That doesn't sound very… safe."

"Better us than the enemy, I say."

This answer was as obvious as it was reasonable, and Marcus wondered if his question had come off as stupid. Well, it wasn't like any vampire was ever going to view a human as their equal. A little stupidity wouldn't hurt Jaran's already low opinions of him.

"Now that we're done with the grand tour, do you have any questions about our operation?" Jaran asked.

"Are all the families of soldiers living here in case the imperialists try to make examples out of them, or are we trying to train children to be soldiers?"

"Certainly not the latter." Jaran placed his hand over his heart. "As someone who has family here, including two young nephews, I can't stand the thought of them being put in danger. They're here so we can protect them."

"I didn't know vampires had families. I thought you couldn't reproduce."

Jaran scowled for a moment, before forcing a neutral expression on his face. "You're right. We can't, just another aspect of our condition. But luckily, my sister is still human. She was able to have children, unlike me."

Marcus understood that he had touched a nerve. In all his years spent hunting vampires, he had never once taken the notion that they might resent some aspects of their vampirism under consideration.

Now he saw how foolish that had been. And, if Jaran had a sister still living, he couldn't be that much older than he appeared. Frozen in time, never allowed the catharsis of aging.

"I'm sorry," Marcus said. "I didn't mean to be so rude."

Jaran waved him off. "Don't be. It isn't a big deal. Hey, why don't you come meet my family? I'm sure you'll like them. And you should start making friends. The more personal connections we all have with each other, the less likely it is for any of us to turn traitor."

Marcus didn't want to spend more time around Jaran than possible, but the idea of meeting other humans proved far too tempting. He needed to find others like them, even if they called vampires their kin.

"That sounds lovely, if I won't be a bother."

"Not at all." Jaran put his hand on Marcus' shoulder and led him towards the street of old homes where civilians were staying. "You know, I really like you."

"I- I don't think humans and vampires were ever supposed to be friends. But I'm glad you… care."

"Times are changing. If we win this fight, vampires and humans are going to be rubbing shoulders a lot more often. And even harpies, werewolves, merfolk, and who knows what else. I've been a vampire in a human family for a long time, and I'd like to be accepted in human society for a change. It can't be that different."

There were so many arguments Marcus wanted to make. How would Jaran get a blood supply after the war was over? Who would be willing to hire a vampire in the workforce? What human would want to see a vampire walking down the street beside them?

But he didn't say a word. Jaran had probably turned over the same doubts in his mind many a time before joining the revolution. There wasn't any point in Marcus rubbing salt in a wound. And who knew? Maybe God's plan really was to bring the different peoples of the world together, despite their differences.

"I hope you're right," Marcus said. "I really hope so. I want to raise kids in a world where they don't have to worry about going outside at night. And where I don't have to send them off to work in factories when they're only ten, just to keep everyone fed."

Jaran sighed. "You know, I was only fourteen when I… When I started sleeping with grown men and women, just trying to make sure my little sister got enough to eat. Please don't tell her. She thinks I got an odd hours job at a butcher shop."

Marcus didn't know how to respond. He kicked a small stone down the street, trying to keep tears at bay. Why did everyone have to get hurt so much? It was a child's question, but he couldn't help clinging to it like a drowning man clinging to driftwood. Nothing in life was fair, but what if they could fix that?

"I'm sorry," Marcus said, knowing how empty his words sounded. "I can see why you want to fight in this war. It isn't just about you or me, you know? It's about the kids."

"I'm glad you finally get that. I'm sorry to dump all that on you. I just wanted to say that I understood you. But there isn't any point in wallowing, we just need to win, even if we both die trying."

"You're right about that."

Marcus wanted to ask Jaran how he had gotten turned. What happened in his life to make him go from being a teenage prostitute to a vampire fighting in a revolution. But he was tired of being rude and nosy, asking too many stupid questions. They could have a nice night if he didn't run off at the mouth.

"Here's my sister's house," Jaran said.

He stopped in front of a house with two shattered windows. The walls were covered in peeling blue paint that complemented the parched yellow grass in an odd fashion.

Jaran opened the door a crack and hollered inside. "Jahda, I have a man over! You should get dressed!" He shut the door and turned to face Marcus. "Wait a minute. She's very modest."

"Of course." Marcus had no tolerance for harlots, so this was a relief to hear. He also appreciated how caring of a brother Jaran seemed to be in that regard. "I don't mind at all."

A woman, presumably Jahda, opened the creaking front door. Her pale pink niqab, covering all but her eyes and hands, gave context to Jaran's statement regarding her modesty. Marcus knew that most Christian men had no love for the women of Islam, but he saw them as servants of the same God.

True women belonging to the Good Lord were hard to find, and despite the differences between Christianity and Islam, Marcus respected all he met. He couldn't fathom how her relationship with her brother had remained so friendly after his corruption.

After all, vampires couldn't be Muslims anymore than they could be Christians. Even apart from their eternal spiritual separation from the light of God, both faiths had rules that were bound to be broken. Muslims being forbidden from drinking blood came sharply to mind.

Jaran smiled at Jahda, and Marcus could tell from her eyes that she too was smiling beneath her veil.

"Come in, please," she said, holding the door open for them both.

They both left their coats and shoes by the door, not wanting to rudely track dirt inside. The home opened up to a living area with several chairs and a sofa. A broom stood against one wall, having recently been in use.

Jaran scooped a brown cat up from the sofa so he could sit down, and she took it as an invitation to curl up on his lap. Marcus had always heard tale of animals being frightened by supernatural creatures, hissing and spitting in the presence of vampires. So her friendliness came as a pleasant surprise.

Marcus sat next to Jaran, annoyed by the need to touch him slightly from lack of space on the small sofa. Jahda took the rocking chair across from them, politely folding her hands on her lap.

"Jahda, this is Marcus, the new soldier I've been showing around town" Jaran said, scratching the cat behind her ears. "Marcus, this is my sister Jahda."

"It's a pleasure," Jahda said. "I'm afraid you just missed my husband and our sons. They won't be back until the morning."

"That's alright," Marcus said. "It's really nice to meet you."

"What brings you here?"

"Oh, Lieutenant Jaran- I mean, your brother invited me over." Marcus fidgeted nervously. "I just joined the militia, and he's trying to get me settled."

"Of course, he keeps inviting you soldiers into our home."

Marcus wondered whether he ought to apologize. Be couldn't tell from Jahda's tone whether his presence was intrusive and she was being passive aggressive, or if she was simply stating a fact about her brother and their life together.

Jaran's cat distracted Marcus from his anxiety by pawing at his leg. He gently stroked her fur, delighted to be in the company of such a lovely animal. She purred loudly, setting him at ease.

"My nephew Esam named her Cat," Jaran said. "Cat the cat. Eisun wanted to name her Kitten, but Esam was very particular about that fact that she needed a name she could keep as an adult cat."

Marcus chuckled. "Well, Cat is a very cute cat. How old are Esam and Eisun?"

"Esam is ten," Jahda said. "And Eisun is eight."

"Growing like weeds," Jaran joked. "Another inch every new moon, I'm sure."

Jahda cleared her throat, wanting to return to their prior subject. "So, Marcus, what made you want in on the revolution?"

Marcus wasn't sure if war was a proper topic to discuss with a lady, but he couldn't think of an excuse not to. He rubbed the back of his neck, then quickly stopped when he remembered the vampire sitting next to him, not wanting that kind of attention.

"My talents aren't in politics, they're in fighting. So, if I can't lobby a bill to make things a tiny bit more bearable, I may as well fight for the people who want to destroy the whole damn system."

"I can see why my brother likes you."

Marcus didn't like getting all buddy-buddy with a bloodsucking demon, but Jahda's words sounded like a compliment, so he accepted them.

"What did you do before?"

"Erm…" Marcus hesitated. "Vampire hunting mostly. Before that I was in the navy."

"War makes for strange bedfellows," Jahda said. "No wonder for that queer look on your face."

Marcus immediately tried to change his expression, and Jaran laughed.

"Sorry, I just-"

"The best of friends are always the unlikely ones," Jaran interrupted.

"Let me get you something to drink," Jahda offered. "It's chilly outside. Something warm would do you good."

Even at the mouth of Hell, there was hospitality and breaking of bread, from one person of faith to another. But surely they had all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, no matter which side of the war one chose to fight on. Whether to perform acts of evil or to permit them. Whether to throw a sinner to a pit of lions or risk them corrupting you in your attempt to save them.

"Some tea would be lovely, thank you."

Taglist: @hugh-lauries-bald-spot @whumpsday @whumpshaped @heavenlyeden @thecyrulik

#Abraham original: Hot off the press #Whump #Whumptember2023 #Whumptember day 5 #'What do you want me to do?' #Military whump #whump writing #Whump series #Human whumpee #Vampire whumpee #Religious whump #Christianity #Islam

[whumpacabra]

48. Fastforward

Fluff, timeskip [10-15 years], cold temperatures, dog mention, referenced memory issues, referenced protectiveness, referenced legal proceedings, referenced past character death, fictional politics

AU Masterpost / Previous

“One hot chocolate, extra cream, and one black coffee, two sugars.”

“That’s me - thanks!” Harrison perked up, snagging the drinks from the counter with a polite smile. The barista gave him a wink. “I hope it goes well. He’s quite handsome.”

Harrison flushed, thankful his dark skin helped hide the blush as he thanked her again and left the cafe.

Wolf was waiting outside, Jakki, his service dog, sitting patiently on the snowy sidewalk.

“That was faster than expected.” Wolf hummed, walking with Harrison toward the park. Harrison sipped at his drink, mittened hands a bit clumsy.

“Yeah, I think the barista rushed it - she thought I was taking you on a date or something.” His laugh wasn’t quite genuine, and he knew Wolf could tell.

“I guess it kind of is. In more of a ‘long time, no see’ date than a first date way.” Wolf paused, Jakki tense at his side as a snowball whizzed past his face. A few university students engaged in the first shots of a snowball fight hollered apologies and politely held their fire until Harrison, Wolf, and the dog had made their way past the danger zone.

“Speaking of, how’s Finland?”

“Colder than here in Geneva, if you can imagine.”

“Ugh, I’d rather not. It’s cold enough here as it is.” He didn’t miss the desert, but he wasn’t fond of the icy air this time of year.

“How’s Katie and Awesome?”

“Good - great, honestly. They’re thinking of signing up for Doctors Without Borders for a bit, once Eli’s at his new boarding school fulltime.” A sad smile twitched at Harrison’s face, both at the current prospects and the nephew named for a dear dead friend.

(Somehow, despite everything - the court case of the century, the US tried in The Hague - the truth of Elias’ death never came up. Nor did Merrick’s, for that matter. Harrison tried not to dwell on it; his hands and Wolf’s both bloodied, but no good would come from guilt now.)

“How’s Mel? I heard she was back in the States recently.”

“Yeah, doing reparation work out there with Jennings and the nations. Walker’s there too, mostly just to keep on eye out I think, but she’d say it’s a vacation.”

“Once an agent, always an agent.” Wolf huffed, breath puffing white in the clean, cold air. His face was rounder, more color in his face than Harrison ever remembered. No matter how dark and dreary Finland was, somehow Wolf always looked fresh from a trip to the Mediterranean.

“How about you? How are things going with…?”

“Good. Better.” His smile wasn't quite genuine, and he knew Harrison could tell. “Memory is back, mostly. On good days. Jakki’s been a good help for bad ones.”

The Australian blue heeler perked at her name, but still seriously scanned their surroundings. Her vest was a vibrant neon orange, insulated against the cold.

“And how’s everyone else up there?” Harrison wasn’t sure what details Wolf could spare. He was vaguely aware that Liza, and Casey to an extent, couldn’t quite leave behind their grifts and cons. RJ was a bit of a wildcard, either deeply invested in some obscure hobby or casually taking assassination jobs. He sincerely hoped it was the former. And Ghost…

“They’re fine. Case and RJ are out in the Canary Islands with Liza - retirement party for her. Or so she promises. For real this time.” Wolf shook his head with a smile, dark hair shining and snow speckled. His smile faded a bit. “And Ghost…he’s trying.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Harrison took a long sip from his drink, busying himself with watching the ice rink. There were dozens of skaters, some elegant and some markedly less so.

“He’s just…protective is all. Maybe a bit paranoid. And smothering.” Wolf was clearly trying to work humor into his words, so Harrison offered a snort of amusement. “I’ve been arguing with him about this trip for two months.”

“Really?” Harrison raised a brow. He knew the old mercenary was…still dealing with the guilt of what had happened to his former friend and protege. Harrison didn’t realize quite how badly he was overcompensating for lost time.

“Arguing might be too strong a word, but he certainly took some convincing.” Wolf sipped at his coffee. “But we both agreed we could use some…space.”

“If there’s anything I can help with, let me know.” The words were almost automatic. Harrison didn’t even need to say them - it was a given. The two families - one (mostly) civilian, one (not entirely) criminal - had each others’ back over the years, from legal paperwork to therapy sessions.

“I appreciate that, Harrison.” Wolf sighed, leaning into him slightly where they stood watching the skating rink. Jakki huffed at a stranger who passed a little too closely. “I was actually thinking about - if you don’t mind - living down here for a while.”

“Yes - yeah, sure. That’s fine. I mean, hey, if Katie and Awesome do go abroad for a bit I wouldn’t mind having someone else in the house.” Harrison smiled up at him, hoping his excitement and relief wasn’t too noticeable. The way Wolf smiled down at him proved it was, but he didn’t care too much.

“Ghost will want to visit. Often, unfortunately.” The warning in Wolf’s voice was joking.

“We’ve got a guest bedroom. I mean, assuming you don’t mind sharing a room with me or - ”

“I’d like that.” Wolf’s voice was soft, a gloved hand gently taking hold of Harrison’s own mittened fingers. Harrison squeezed back, not letting go even as they started walking home.

AU Masterpost / Previous

(An AU of my Freelancers series)

Taglist: @i-eat-worlds @whumpy-daydreams @stargeode

#whump #fluff #recovery #post timeskip #cold temperatures #memory issues #protectiveness #past character death #fictional politics #idk how to tag for wolf+Harrison’s queer platonic whatever they’ve got going on. #freelancers au #…I wanna do a behind the scenes post abt this au later #a writer I adore did one with cut scenes+explaining Easter eggs and stuff and I LOVED it #it’s just….too much to put in the tags. what this au means to me. all the little details it feels like only I know about. the stuff I cut. #this has been…wild. and fun. and so so cathartic. I appreciate any of y’all reading along to this personal pet project of mine :]

[baronessofmischief]

My father has strong fantasy NPC energy and is in a perpetual state of side quests.

Talked to him the other day and he said “If I’m making hiking sticks for the nephews, I might as well make one for the baby too even if she won’t use it for another couple of years. And since I’m already doing those I may as well do some for (my cousin’s) kids. And then I figured, heck might as well make some for (the deacon’s) girls, and if I’m already making— let’s see… [counts on his hands]— nine of them, I could just go ahead and make some for (my friend from literal high school who lives down the street who he must have seen the other day)’s boys too. So now I’m up to a dozen hiking sticks, in case you were wondering about all the sticks on the porch.”

#This man once left the house with a pie to take to an elderly shut-in and came back with a guitar

[blackautmedia]

How do you feel about ToTK overall as a game? Like, how would you rate it out of 10 and why?

Thanks for the ask! I suppose about a 7 out of 10?

ToTK is a lot of fun to play through in its problem solving. Kinda. The ability to build your own solution is one of the strongest things it has going and I really like that, but I also feel that the range of access to tools you have also means that you can really just throw a few solutions at it that kind of solve everything.

I really don't like how so much discourse around Tears is just people yelling at other people that they're playing the game wrong when so much of what makes the game appealing is that it's accessible to people who think very differently with puzzle-solving.

I enjoy collecting the armor and dressing Link up in goofy outfits as well as Link babysitting his Nephew Tulin. The Gerudo woman who wields the cannon and is proud of it deserves all the love and joy in the world.

I love Sonia a great deal. I'd love a version of this game where you play as her instead. But it's unforgivable to make a character as sweet and kind as Sonia--one of the few dark-skinned main characters in the series--and then kick her out of the plot in such a horrible way. Most of the dark-skinned Zelda characters are either the "good Arab" trope like say Urbosa, Riju, and Nabooru, or you get cases like Tetra and Sonia where they're just erased from existence.

The biggest drawback for me is the storytelling and the narrative, which I don't think is a particularly hot take. The mystery of Zelda's whereabouts has the potential to be interesting, and the problem isn't even that it's obvious, it's that the game continually repeats itself about a dozen times with nothing new or interesting to go with it. None of the characters in the past feel like actual people and instead feel like vehicles to push the plot along at best and racial caricatures at worst.

Ganon doesn't even get to be a cunning or sly villain because he rose to power from everyone else just being incompetent.

I'd love for a Zelda game that gives Ganon an actual motivation for being the villain beyond just linking his evil to his racial identity because dude has more than enough ham to steal the show on his own.

I don't need Zelda to be a big gripping political conflict or some complex war, but I feel it misses a lot of the heart that made a lot of older Zelda games so compelling.

Wind Waker wasn't a complicated game, but I always feel strongly when Link comes back to see his grandma is sick and worried about her family. Portraying Link as a small kid in a big world with a family and all really sold a lot of the game.

Beyond that, it feels like you're constantly fighting against the UI and constantly fighting against choices that add up in inconvenience.

Linking abilities like movement speed and mobility to armor also means you constantly have to switch things around and spend too much time in the pause menu like the Iron Boots from the N64 Ocarina of Time taken to eleven. Pair that with the sages, having to get used to the weird controls, having to fuse things manually each time rather than just having a "favorites" option and it adds up quickly.

A lot of the things like rain and weapon durability still don't add anything interesting or fun to the game either.

It's a fun ride, but it can also be very trying at times.

Also, you can't pet the doggos. Bad.

#totk spoilers #queen sonia #they did my girl so dirty

[mordoriscalling]

Assurance and Authority (4/25)

Post-BOTFA Persuasion Au: Bilbo returns to the Shire after the Quest, having rejected Thorin’s proposal of marriage. For years after, he struggles with regret. When he and Thorin meet again, he knows better than to hope. 

Chapter 4 also available on AO3

(Ch 1) (Ch 2) (Ch 3)

The Great Smials in Tuckborough, the ancestral home of the Tooks, was a system of numerous smials connected by a multitude of tunnels, in which the Tooks had been residing for generations. The place was a remarkable piece of construction, which constituted a home to many a dozen families and still allowed them to host guests. Despite that, the Smials were typically rather crowded on normal days, but there were times when the place was nearly packed to the brim with hobbits, which occurred if many guests were visiting at the same time.

Such was the case when Bilbo took Primula up on her invitation. Prior to his arrival, Primula had come to Tuckborough from Buckland together with her husband and son, two sisters Amaranth and Asphodel, her mother Mirabella and her father Gorbadoc Brandybuck, as well as half a dozen of their relatives. The reason for their visit to Tuckborough was both a familial and a diplomatic one - they all wished to see their Took relatives, and Gorbadoc, the Master of Buckland, wanted to meet with his nephew Fortinbras II, the current Thain of the Shire.

With the Great Smials so overcrowded, there was scarcely a chance of not bumping into any hobbit after leaving one’s room. Bilbo, when he passed someone in the corridors of the Smials, more often than not ended up seeing one of Primula’s immediate family. This was not unfortunate in itself, but the problem was that they all liked to confide in Bilbo about their problems and tiffs, which often concerned Primula’s husband Drogo.

"My dear Bilbo,” aunt Mirabella told him one morning on their way to breakfast, "I must say that I did promise myself not to meddle in the affairs of any of my daughters, but bless me, I have no very good opinion of the way Drogo intervenes with how Prim rears Frodo. He always has objections to how she encourages his curiosity and lectures Frodo about what’s respectable. The lad is just a little fauntling, for goodness’s sake!”

"Bilbo, my dear boy,” uncle Gorbadoc said when he and Bilbo chanced upon each other in a pantry, "Since you’re the head of the Bagginses, I wonder if there’s something you you could do to arrange for Drogo to have more earnings? I’m sure he could use more money to indulge his appetite better. Why, he dines with us at least twice a week, and he always eats for three every time! Not that I mind, but I’m sure it would put him at ease to be able to buy more food for himself.”

"Whilst you’re here,” Amaranth murmured to Bilbo while they helped with washing the dishes, "Could you possibly give Drogo a hint that it would be better if he didn’t try to take precedence over papa? We know you Bagginses are an esteemed lot, but Drogo has no authority in Brandy Hall, Baggins or not.”

‘No matter how much Drogo insists on them, papa doesn’t care about proper table manners,” Asphodel said while she and Bilbo were baking lemon cake, "It’s good food he cares about.”

Primula herself had a thing or two to say as well. "I can take care of Frodo just fine without Drogo’s lectures,” she grumbled to Bilbo one evening over tea. ‘I know our boy is a Baggins and with that come certain expectations, but he’s just as much a Brandybuck as he’s a Baggins!” She sighed. "And I wish you could have him assured that nothing would happen to him when boating if only he allowed me to teach him how to swim. Perhaps you could talk some sense to him, Bilbo? Swimming is really something that one should be able to do.”

When Bilbo tried to raise these concerns with Drogo, most of his attempts were futile, as Drogo had just as many issues to complain about.

"Oh, Bilbo, you have no idea how relieved I am!” he said once when they enjoyed a smoke by the Great Door. "To have a Baggins around who understands me! Really, Brandybucks are too strange for me sometimes. How can they go boating, I will never understand. It can’t be safe. And to think Primula wanted to take Frodo boating too! To endanger our boy so! You must try to tell her to be more reasonable, Bilbo.” Another time, he said, "The very thought of going boating makes me feel ill. You have seen Brandywine, you know how wide and deep that river is. Merely being near it makes me uneasy, and living next to so much water makes my joints ache. I swear, it’s all because of that moist river air. I’m so relieved to have come here, I feel better indeed. I wish I had another Baggins with me in Buckland, then I’d be seen and heard. Perhaps you could talk to them in a way that would make them understand me?”

The unsolicited role of a mediator began to tire Bilbo profusely. His only respite from it was being outside of the Great Smials altogether, which was why he took to long walks most eagerly. Often accompanied by Primula, Frodo and many other fauntlings, Bilbo would wander around the green hills of Tuckborough, exploring its colourful meadows, charming groves and little brooks.

When not busy entertaining or watching the little ones, Bilbo found his mind wandering as much as his feet did. He tried his best not to dwell on the past, instead turning his thoughts to the problem at hand. It was not the first time that he bore witness to all the disagreements stemming from Primula’s marriage to Drogo. Since they had been wed six years ago and welcomed their son into the world a year later, the couple had been facing a problem of not seeing eye to eye on certain matters with one another and each other’s relatives. That was not to say they were unhappy together; they were greatly fond of each other, loved their son dearly, and found as much charm as fault in each other’s differences. Rather, Bilbo worried that, because of their financial circumstances, they were too dependent on Primula’s parents and thus, having no prospects of moving elsewhere, they were always bound to living near disapproving family members. Such conditions fostered only conflict and could not be beneficial for their union in the perspective of decades. Bilbo believed that the situation was likely to lead to unhappiness, and Primula’s well-being concerned him greatly; the lass, eighteen years his junior, was one of his relatives that were most dear to him.

She had always been a curious spirit ever since she had been little, and when she had been old enough to speak, she would always seek Bilbo out during family gatherings, at the time when Bilbo had been past his second eleventy birthday and everyone had already labelled him as quite a bit of a recluse. Little Primula, being a tiny fauntling, had not cared about the general opinion of him and befriended him right away. She had stayed constant in her liking of Bilbo for all her childhood, and the two had formed a strong connection, similar to that of siblings. Once Primula grew older, their bond had been nurtured by them both, which Bilbo could not have been more grateful for, especially since it had been Primula more than any other who had helped Bilbo overcome the grief of becoming an orphan.

Due to their closeness, Bilbo worried about Primula’s happiness a lot, so much so that one day he did ask her about it outright.

“Are you happy, Prim?” he said during one of their outings, on a sunny afternoon at the beginning of Wedmath. They had played hounds and hares with Frodo and a dozen other fauntlings earlier, after which the whole group enjoyed a picnic. Now that the children had had their rest, they were up again, playing leaf flutes at the top of the hill, which Bilbo and Primula were slowly climbing.

“Of course I am, Bilbo,” she replied. “I have a family of my own now, a healthy child, whatever else could I wish for?”

Bilbo frowned, displeased with her answer, for he knew far too well what one with family and a child but no place to call their own would dearly wish for. “Primula,” he said, “If you ever find yourselves in need of a different smial to stay, Bag End’s doors are always open to you, for as long as you wish.”

“Why, Bilbo, I could never impose on you so!”

“Come, now, Prim, it’s an invitation freely given. Besides, I’m sure Drogo would find the comforts of Bag End most beneficial to his health.”

At that, Primula laughed out loud. “He would indeed. There would be nothing better for his joints than the ability to run a hot bath at will!” She sobered. “Still, you’re too good, Bilbo. I cannot find it in myself to abuse your generosity like this.”

“It’d be no abuse! It’s simply the least I could do. I wish you to take me up on this invitation.”

“Bilbo, please. You must realise that it’s not easy for me to accept charity.”

“Charity? It’s not charity. I’m much more selfish in my offer than you can imagine.”

“How so?”

Before Bilbo could reply, one of the fauntlings above shouted a question about whether the group could go play in the creek on the other side of the hill, which Primula gave them permission to do.

“My adventure has changed me very much,” Bilbo said once the little ones disappeared from view. ‘Before, I was more than happy to eat my dinners alone. Once most of my grief of losing mama and papa passed, I loved my solitude. Then, my adventure showed me what I had been missing, and now I can scarcely like lack of companionship.”

“I see,” Primula replied, and that was all they said on the matter.

They walked in companionable silence, reaching the top of the hill. Bilbo began to imagine what it would be like to have Primula, Drogo and Frodo live with him and he found the idea exceedingly pleasing. He had always believed that his father had built Bag End for it to be full of laughter; the smial standing near empty seemed to be a terrible waste that had been weighing on Bilbo’s heart and mind for some time now.

When Bilbo and Primula were about to descend the hill to join the fauntlings at the creek, a call from behind them caught their attention.

"Mister Bilbo!”

It was a tween lad, running up to them together with another boy, whom Bilbo recognized to be Hamson and Halfred, the two oldest children of Bilbo’s gardener Hamfast Gamgee. The boys were visibly red in the face even from some distance away.

"Mister Bilbo!” Hamson cried again. "We’ve been looking for you!”

The two lads finally stood before them, panting heavily.

"Papa sends us,” Halfred said. "There were three dozen dwarven soldiers marching through Hobbiton before noon, and a few of those dwarves knocked on Bag End’s door! They even asked him where you were, mister Bilbo. Papa said you’d want to know.”

"Are they friends of yours, mister Bilbo?” Hamson asked.

“I don’t know,” shocked Bilbo replied, as was the truth. “Perhaps.”

Bilbo had indeed invited the Company to visit his smial anytime. He had told them at what time tea was and even not to bother knocking, when he had bidden them farewell. Thus, Bilbo dearly hoped that the dwarven soldiers in question were some of his friends, but at the same time feared the heirs of Durin might’ve knocked on his door, even though the likelihood of that event was exceedingly small. Alas, before he could ask the boys if they knew anything about how the dwarves looked like, Frodo’s pained cry carried in the air.

#myfic #bagginshield #bilbo x thorin #persuasion au

[pixeldolly]

Walden BACC

That evening, Abby and Louis stopped by for an impromptu visit; they, too, were anxious about the imminent birth of Ellie’s baby and tried to be there for her as much as possible, in case she needed them. 

Louis was keen to meet his niece or nephew, even though he knew nothing about babies. Abby was simply content with her impending grandmotherhood, a mixture of pride and joy at having lived long enough to experience it (and sadness, because Eli had not). 

Even though her kids liked to tell her she was far from ancient, she often felt that way. Her workload was no less heavy than it had been ten or twenty years before, but she herself no longer had the same boundless energy, the same ability to juggle a hundred different issues, talk to a dozen different people by lunchtime each of whom wanted something from her, schmooze and be schmoozed for the betterment of Walden.

This would be her last mandate as Mayor. Soon, she would have to entrust her beloved town to someone else, and the prospect both saddened and terrified her. 

I am old...but not dead. Not yet.

Lifting her gaze from the pages of the book she was reading, Vernoraxia froze at the sight of Ellie’s mother approaching. The older woman’s features were inscrutable, a true politician’s poker face, but she thought she could feel a chill emanating from her. 

Last time they’d spoken had been at her father’s funeral, when Abby had tried to keep her from paying her respects. Vernoraxia knew Abby hated her for the role her mother had played in Eli’s mental decline which had ended with his tragic death. Her very existence was a reminder of his affair with Larkin Meade.

Vernoraxia: “Mrs Calhoun, hi. I...”

Abby: “No need to look like a rabbit caught in the headlights, dear. I'm just going to play a little SSX while my daughter does the dishes.”

Eleanor caught the tail end of that exchange and decided to rescue her sister.

Eleanor: “Vernie, could you give me a hand in the kitchen?”

Vernoraxia was off the couch so fast one might have thought her backside was on fire, the book abandoned on the coffee table.

Oblivious to the undercurrents at play there, Louis grabbed the other controller and plopped himself down next to his mother.

Abby: “Are you sure you’re up for this? You do know I’m the undisputed SSX champion in this family, yes?”

Louis: “Bring it on! I got some practice at college, me and L - a friend of mine played most weekends.”

#sims 2 #the sims 2 #sims2 #ts2 #sims 2 pictures #sims 2 gameplay #sims 2 bacc #bacc: walden #abby shepard #louis calhoun #eleanor calhoun #vernoraxia meade

[stewblog]

Killers of the Flower Moon

Barring unforeseen tragedy, Killers of the Flower Moon will likely not be director Martin Scorsese’s final film, but what a remarkable bit of punctuation it would be if it was.

It’s not uncommon for filmmakers to use their art as a way to criticize portions of society or to use it as a spotlight to bring awareness to historical injustices. What’s uncommon is for the criticism and that spotlight to be turned by the filmmaker onto themselves and that is precisely what Scorsese does with his latest work.

Killers of the Flower Moon is a difficult film to watch due to the harsh and unrelenting nature of the material, compounded by the extended runtime of nearly four hours. There is no levity in Killers of the Flower Moon. There is only the harsh, grim reality of what happened to dozens of members of the Osage Nation who were murdered by the white men who were enraged that Native Americans in Oklahoma had laid claim to spoils of the Earth (and the subsequent riches they afforded). There are no moments of humor or lightness or comfort here because there are none for these characters, in particular Mollie (Lily Gladstone).

Mollie is an Osage, and as such controls oil drilling rights and is heir to a large fortune. Like the rest of the Osage, she considers local cattle baron William “King” Hale (Robert De Niro) to be a genuine ally and friend to their people. She becomes even closer to King when she eventually marries his nephew, Ernest Burkhart (Leonardo DiCaprio), freshly free of fighting in World War I and aimless in life. Children and a doting husband are the only joys Mollie is afforded, though, as death surrounds her at nearly every turn. Her mother dies. Her sisters are systematically murdered, as are dozens of her fellow natives. Her life is one of near-constant grief made worse by a losing battle with diabetes.

Unbeknownst to her, however, is the fact that her people’s benefactor and her now-husband are conspiring behind her back to lie, kill and steal from her and her people. There is no respite for her. There is no respite for her people, wealthy though they may be. Money can buy comfort, but it cannot buy empathy or equality, especially when they are intentionally denied by those who hold true power.

This would make for a harsh story were it fiction. But the fact that Mollie Burkhart was a real person who endured real oppression and suffering makes Killers of the Flower Moon all the more harrowing. Most filmmakers would be content to present this story as a whodunnit, a ripping mystery to be unraveled, gripped with suspense from beginning to end. Scorsese goes the opposite route. It’s obvious, if not outright stated from the beginning who’s behind the murders and why. Scorsese isn’t interested in suspense. He’s not interested in entertainment. He’s interested in the brutal, harsh truth of who holds power and the uncaring lengths these men will go to in order to get and keep more of it.

Scorsese’s film shows a side of American history that many would care to forget or ignore, or in far too many cases work to otherwise obscure or erase. But history doesn’t care about your feelings, and neither does Martin Scorsese. He is very clearly interested only in communicating the facts of history. He’s interested in examining his own culpability in the way that his livelihood and passion as a filmmaker and artist has played a role in whitewashing history, diluting it so that it is palatable and entertaining for the masses, and not a means of reckoning with a bloody past that left countless dead and future generations suffering. This is a work made by a man furious that we, collectively (himself included), would prefer to pretend that a bloody history relegated to a few pages of a few textbooks can be translated into entertainment. It’s as honest a reckoning with one’s own choices and place as an artist as I have seen any filmmaker make in ages, possibly ever.

And while the film is incredibly heavy and perpetually serious, it is not bereft of elements to enjoy or admire. What struck me throughout from a production standpoint is how wonderfully palpable the film felt. In a cinematic landscape where so many sets are either heavily supplemented by or conjured whole cloth via digital effects, Scorsese’s commitment to keeping his actors and audience immediately in the moment via practical sets and props pays off with massive dividends here. It is vital that this story feel as real and tangible as possible in order to relay the intended message, and as such Killers of the Flower Moon feels as real and immediate as anything Scorsese has ever made.

The film also has a trio of superb performances carrying us through. DiCaprio gives what is perhaps his most understated work for Scorsese as Ernest, an impish lunkhead who seems capable of little more than poorly following the directives of his greedy uncle. I felt uncertain how well DiCaprio could pull off this role based on the trailers, but he truly absorbs the character and manages to find a certain complexity in this man who all too easily falls into destructive schemes. Robert De Niro meanwhile delivers the best work of this late chapter in his career, perfectly blending the facade of earnest gentility and support with a subdued, selfish evil bubbling beneath it.

It’s Lily Gladstone, however, who is the film’s MVP. Relegated often to acting while laying in bed or simply reacting to horrible news, Gladstone nevertheless communicates all the complexity, strength, intelligence and naivete of Mollie, often through little more than soft-spoken words and her eyes. It’s a remarkable feat of acting as good as anything Scorsese has ever put into one of his previous works.

I’m not sure I could ever say I enjoyed Killers of the Flower Moon, but I am thankful for it as an examination of American history, as the work of an artist being honest with themselves and their audience, and as a genuine work of cinema. It’s often uncomfortable film to watch, but that simply makes it all the more engaging and necessary.

#martin scorsese #scorsese #leo dicaprio #killers of the flower moon #lily gladstone #robert de niro #leonardo dicaprio

[lansplaining]

I’m not sure if I’m actually going to do anything more with this, so here’s a little snippet of CQL!Wangji returning to Cloud Recesses after parting from Wei Wuxian. 

- 

Lan Wangji arrives at Cloud Recesses at sunset and passes through the gate with a silent nod to the disciples on duty. There is not much time before the evening meal, and though Lan Wangji considers missing it– there are things he must see to, the reasons he is back– it feels like an inauspicious way to mark his return. He can eat quickly; shufu will understand. 

His new authority still sits strangely on him, but fortunately, he isn’t Chief Cultivator here. The junior disciples greet him with only their habitual respect as they all pass into the dining hall. No additional ceremony is expected of him as he joins shufu’s table with his meal. Shufu greets him with a nod, with the same look of wariness and pride he has worn in Wangji’s presence ever since he and Wei Ying returned to the fractious Lotus Pier gathering that followed the events at the temple. The question of a new Chief Cultivator, Sect Leaders Yao and Ouyang insisted, was urgent. Xiongzhang’s absence rang like a struck gong: he would urge patience, make the case for a period of deliberation, careful consideration, before leaping to a conclusion that would affect so many lives. 

Sect Leader Jiang, Wangji could grudgingly credit, tried: “Not all of the sects are at their full strength. How can we be asked to choose now?”

“You only want to buy time to position your nephew to inherit,” muttered Sect Leader Sun. Then, louder, “Or perhaps Sect Leader Jiang intends to put himself forward?” 

“At present, I speak for myself, and for Yunmeng Jiang,” Sect Leader Jiang said coldly. “I have no wish to spend my days wrangling with the lot of you. I’ll defend my nephew’s right to Lanling Jin, if you or anyone else means to aim at it– but I’m sure there can be no question of that.” 

Jin Rulan sat low in his chair, red-faced with embarrassment and red-eyed, as if he had been crying– though Lan Wangji was not sure for who. He did not lack for options. Nie Huaisang, claiming injuries and distress, was not there. Xiongzhang was not there. The leaders of smaller sects eyed one another speculatively. 

“I put forward Gusu Lan,” Lan Wangji said, his voice low but steady. He rose to his feet as he spoke, and felt everyone’s eyes upon him like a physical weight. “I put forward myself, until such time as we can gather again, and come to a more considered decision.” 

Shufu said nothing, but he still wears that look: surprise, respect. He is proud of the choice; he did not expect it. Well, Lan Wangji did not expect it of himself until he did it. He wonders if that means he is or is not the person he once wished to become. He wonders what he is waiting for his uncle to say. 

The muted clatter of chopsticks on bowls and plates is cut through with the susurrus of an opening door. Lan Wangji does not look up– he sees no use in punishing a latecomer with dozens of reproachful eyes– until an uncharacteristic murmur passes through the room, followed by hasty shushing. 

Lan Xichen wanders into the dining hall. 

He looks bewildered, as if he expected to find another room on the other side of the door, or thought this one would be empty. It has been only a handful of weeks, but he looks thin and tired, his cheeks not jade pale, but pallid. He tucks his hands in his sleeves and hovers by the door, seemingly at a loss for what to do. Lan Wangji rises. He glances out of habit at shufu, expecting a reproving glance he will subsequently ignore, but he is just watching Xichen. Wangji goes to his brother. 

Lan Xichen blinks. “Ah. Wangji.” He sounds oddly dazed. “I thought you’d gone away.” 

Wangji shakes his head no. “Xiongzhang. May we take dinner in the Hanshi?” 

Xichen hesitates, then nods. He casts a last uncertain glance over his shoulder as they turn away, and Wangji hears someone else carefully slide the door shut behind them. 

A little ways down the path, Xichen says, “I thought I should… I have secluded myself, but I should… the disciples…” He says again, “I thought you’d gone away.”

Another shake of his head. “I have returned, Xiongzhang. To see to your duties while you recover.” 

“I…” He sounds about to protest, but then he clutches suddenly at Wangji’s sleeve, the movement seeming almost involuntary. The abruptness nearly makes them both stumble. The Twin Jades of Lan, tumbling over nothing on a path they’ve walked ten thousand times. Lan Wangji presses his lips tight against a sudden swell of emotion. Xichen, he then sees, is crying. 

Wangji takes him by the elbow to guide him the rest of the way. They are hardly through the door before Xichen collapses to his knees, tears falling soundlessly down his cheeks. Wangji kneels beside him. 

“I have already–” The words are little more than a gasp. “I have already failed so much– ah.” He manages to catch his breath. “I cannot force you…”

Wangji shakes his head, though Xichen isn’t looking in order to see it. “I chose to come home.”

When Wangji was a child, after the loss of their mother– or when he was beaten with the discipline whip– he remembers through the haze of time and pain and mind-clouding sadness – stillness. Himself, kneeling or lying on his bed, his sorrow like a shell of ice around him, and Xichen at his side. 

Xichen, even as he collects himself somewhat, seems like he will shake apart. He straightens his back, but tears still spill out of his eyes. He does not react, does not move to hide them or wipe them away. It is as if he is unaware. 

So Wangji does it. He tucks his sleeve carefully around the heel of his hand and dabs it carefully along his brother’s cheeks (like Wei Ying did for him, when he was stupid and drunk– but don’t think of Wei Ying, not now). Xichen, still, does not react. 

#my fic #lan zhan #lxc #it's very angsty sorry lol #i think actually extending it would require a style of long meditative writing i am not very good at