#burynot

❝ oh. ❞ rapunzel's gaze turns downwards, towards the ankles that peek out from beneath the worn hems of her dress. the colour of the pink and purple fabric having dulled over time. everything had been lost to time. her whole life this one room, with a few books to keep her company. until this boy appeared at the window, a lyre slung over his shoulder, with a look about him that made her want to be brave.

@burynot's doorman; dressed. help my muse put on an article of clothing.

pocket   hums   lowly,   upturning   the   doorman's   collar   as   they   pull   the   tie   around   to   loop   it.   though   it   *had   been   a   long   time   since   they'd   been   to   any   sort   of   fancy   event,   pocket's   ability   to   tie   a   tie   hadn't   disappeared.

the most prevalent thought in peter parker's mind is always ' you are not enough. ' it clings like a film to his teeth, he cannot quite swallow it down. it claws its way up his throat every time. you learn to live with it after a while; he's learned to accept it. the best he can do is try, AND TRY HE DOES, but even at his age he guards pieces of himself. 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍-𝚠𝚘𝚗 / so easily lost. and yet still, at other times, these emotions are inconsequential, his amazement too large to welcome such negativity.

years of wear and tear don't usually bother someone like reinhardt, someone who carried armour on his body most likely double his body weight, who carried a hammer, no doubt triple his body weight. and that was at a relatively young age. wear and tear, in fact, was too light a phrase to describe what his body had gone through over the years. yet, he wouldn't change a single moment in his life. he wouldn't rewrite his story. many years ago, he would have, he'd have done almost everything differently, but he's at the age where he knows everything had to happen the way it did for him to become the man he is now. the scars that litter his body from years of being everyone's shield, the aching joints and phantom pains from injuries healed years ago. it's all a wonderful reminder of everything he has sacrificed. even his fresh injury, one he had obtained by helping protect the gibraltar base, reminds him of the many times he had been in this position.

parked on his behind, hunched over to make himself as small as possible, while his dearest friend tended to his injuries as if it were second nature. like it was one of her most favourite things to do.

⭐️ my roleplay pet peeves

🔑 my favorite type of threads

call me a lil crazy but i luv the angsty threads where ur muse just breaks down, i really like to explore the way characters truly feel when they're at their core, and how they build themselves back up oopsie. i really like it with pocket in particular

⭐️ my roleplay pet peeves

she's pushed aside before there's even time to register another. pencil, which had been making note of her observations, leaving an unplanned line down the length of her paper. the humph that escapes her lips is not ladylike. it's the kind of sound her mother would have scolded her for making, even in the face of such rudeness. brows turn downwards in a scowl, and she can hear her mother's voice again telling her she'll end up with wrinkles, as she takes in the newcomer. daphne isn't dumb. his reputation had certainly preceded himself, and she'd been prepared for this moment since arriving in london.