#and he is unlovable and his kids would be happier without him but he is selfish because he cannot let them go

[littlefankingdom]

Okay, you know what? I kind of like the reasoning behind Bruce not wanting Damian to stop being Robin in the last issues of Batman and Robin. Bruce thinking Damian doesn't need him and will not stay with him if it's not for Batman and Robin makes sense. Damian came to Gotham to be trained by Batman and to be Robin, and Bruce tried to keep him away from the Robin mantle. And then, he got sent back in time, and when he came back, Damian was Robin and he had built a relationship with Dick and Stephanie that he didn't have with Bruce yet. He stayed with Bruce after that because Bruce was Batman. So, Bruce feels insecure about his relationship with Damian , he knows the boy is independent af and he thinks the only reason he keeps coming back to him is only because Bruce is Batman, not because he wants to be with him.

This also reminds me of how Dick originally graduated from Robin to Nightwing. When he explained doing so to Bruce, Bruce is sad and takes it as Dick saying he is cutting ties with Bruce completely, and Dick has to reassure him he is not. It's a very sweet moment, and it shows that Bruce shares the same fear as Dick: that once they aren't Batman and Robin, the other will not want to see them.

The kids aren't the only one afraid to not be important to Bruce without the suits, Bruce is afraid his kids only stick around because of Batman and not because they love him.

[nkakeru]

☆。*。☆。 gom > type of boyfriends

Kuroko Tetsuya

He smiles and even talks a bit more when you’re around;

Not into pda, but he loves to hold your hand;

Your first probably was in Maji Burguer so you could get milkshake (or your food of choice) together - because of that you sometimes call him “vanilla boy” (he pretends to don’t like, but he won’t ask you to stop calling him it because it’s your nick name to him);

He always invites you to go to his games and he loves to see you there, but he’s the second to mind less if you can’t go;

He doesn’t mind much about you getting along with the gom, but since he spends a lot of time with the seirin team he would like if you all got to be friend so you could all go out - maybe even in the training tripes they do (also Nigou is your kid);

He’s the third one to careless about jealousy and when his partner does something he doesn’t like he voices it - maybe not in the moment, if there’s other people nearby, but he’ll talk about it the first chance he gets;

He’s good at noticing when there’s something going on - for an example: he might not be able to tell what you’re upset about, but he always knows when you’re .

Kise Ryouta

Likes to wear matching clothes/ itens;

He gets it that you can’t always go to his games but he’ll act like he can’t play without you, that he needs you there to win;

He say he gets jealous, but he kind likes that you’re able to get along with his team and the others from generation of miracles, because this way you can hang out together;

Don’t get me wrong, Kise is a loud extrovert who loves pda, but there are times when his temper gets to him and he needs to be quiet so he won’t say something he might regret latter - for an exemple, after he loses a game;

He really enjoys coffee dates, picnics and going out to shop with you.

He doesn’t mind some jealousy (I would his the second to care less about it), but he has lots of fans going after him and, yes, he agrees it gets unbearable sometimes - but he wouldn’t be mean to all of them (because there are some nice respectful fans) or stop being friends with someone just to make his partner feel better

However, if someone does something against their partner, he’ll get really pissed.

Midorima Shintaro

the one who dislikes jealousy the most - or at least the one to voice it more. He understands that feeling jealous sometimes is normal, but if it gets a bit to much he’ll sit with his partner and have a serious talk about it;

he normally doesn’t like pets, but if you have one in a few weeks he becomes attached to the animal and treats it’s like his own; (that father who says he doesn’t want a dog but after having one is wearing a shirt with the dogs face in it)

if you don’t like oha asa he won’t force it on you, but he gets you lucky itens on the days it says your sing won’t have much luck;

he claims to don’t care with you go or not his games, but all of his teammates notice he gets happier when you’re there - even the guys from gom notice it;

can’t handle pda. he will be more open to it with time, but on your first month dating he would never give a peck on the mouth in front of his time - he would barely be able to hold your hand;

once you used his jersey and he never recovered, now he’s always trying to make excuses for you to wear his clothes

“y/n, today oha asa said your sign’s luck items is a [insert very specific type of shirt/ t-shirt]. Luckily, I have one just like this”

believe it or not he gets insecure about your relationship sometimes because he has a hard time showing he cares about you, so he fears will might feel unloved.

Aomine Daiki

a lot of dirty jokes and, if it’s ok to you, constantly touching- holding hands, cuddles, his arm over you shoulder;

if you invite him to any type of date that isn’t in his or your house or in a basket court, he’ll complain saying it’ll be boring, but he’ll go nevertheless because he likes spending time with you;

Daiki only goes to practice and to the matches on time if you are there to watch him play - he likes to show off;

shows off to Wakamatsu, Kise and Kagami, never losing a chance to tell them he has a partner;

“y’know, Kise, i don’t believe you that popular. I mean, my girl/boyfriend has never heard about you”

Aomine is bad with words, so he shows he cares through actions like walking you home, eating with you, making sure you’re sleeping enough, etc;

he doesn’t has much patience to jealousy and, being bad with words, he might come of as rude when telling you about it;

a terrible study partner, constantly yawning and asking for breaks, besides trying to convince you to study in bed or in the sofa instead of using a table.

Murasakibara Atsushi

his love language is physical touch (holding your hand, playing with your hair or even just staying close to you) and sharing sweets;

he doesn’t care if his partner gets jealous sometimes (might even find it kind cute if they pound and blush when admitting it), but if it starts happening to often or they start telling him to don’t go to some place with someone, he won’t like it - and he’s not as delicate as Kuroko, so he’ll voice his discomfort right in the moment, even if there are more people around;

he normally doesn’t invite you to his games because he claims to dislike basketball, but Himuro always tell you the date, time and place so you can go see the purple guy. Atsushi always looks for you in the bleachers and gets noticeably happier when he sees you;

Himuro invites you because Murasakibara get serious about the match if you’re watching - so he plays better and don’t complain as much;

wear his clothes, they’re comfy and Atsushi loves seeing you in them;

protective boy, doesn’t like when other people get touchy with you;

he’s more forgetful in the morning, but he always send you good night messages.

Akashi Seijuro

the one to careless about jealousy, I would say he might even like it a bit too much;

but he’s good at noticing red flags, so he knows when some behavior(s) gets out of hand;

loves to hear you babbling about the things you’re interested in - he will just smiling and hold you hand your hand (doing the tump thing) while you talk;

wanna learn to play the violin or basketball?he will teach you. already plays an instrument? nice, please, play to him and in return he’ll also play his violin for you;

if you don’t play any instrument just show him your puppy eyes and he’ll play to your either way;

also if you already play an sport he’ll do his best to go to all your matches;

calls you his empress/ emperor and let’s you win in shogi - just don’t tell Midorima about this.

[tssidesfics]

Requests: Analogince where they’re human and also single dads? And they all meet because their kids fought and got called to the principals office

Virgil's POV

Upsides to being a single father to a child with ADHD: you got to raise a beautiful, special boy with a sharp mind. You got to teach him all the coping mechanisms you'd painstakingly learned over the years to cope with his condition and watch as he lit up over the things that brought him joy. You got to watch as he zipped from topic to topic, brighter than the sun, mind racing at a million miles an hour. You got to be the first person to hear about his beautifully creative ideas. You got to have a reason for living, all yours and wonderful, that you didn't have to share with anyone else.

Downsides to being a single father to a child with ADHD: you had no one else to pass the buck to when he got in trouble at school.

"It'll be fine," I chanted to myself for the billionth time as I turned off the ignition and unbuckled myself, gripping the steering wheel and forcing deep, measured breaths. "It'll be fine. He probably won't get expelled for this. This is his first fight and you don't even know why he got into a fight. You didn't raise a bully, so he was probably defending himself or another kid." Terror clasped me around the throat and squeezed. "But what if you did raise a bully and you didn't realize it, and now you've sentenced your son to a life of crime trying to make up for the hole in his heart where his father should have loved him oh God I broke my son!"

Immediately, my therapist's voice spoke up in my mind. You're catastrophizing again, he said in that obnoxiously aware, gentle way of his. Calm down. Take it one step at a time.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, focusing on the feeling of my stomach and then my chest expanding with air. I let it out through pursed lips, a quiet whistle in the exhale.

I'd played through scenarios like this a million times in my mind. The second Cassie told me, five months pregnant with tears streaming down her cheeks, that she didn't want the baby, I'd prepared myself for any possibility. I'd created contingency plans and contingency plans for my contingency plans, because I knew how much harsher the world would be on him. With a grandparent, his biological mother, and me all with ADHD, there hadn't been any doubt Drew would get it, too, and I'd prepared for that. I'd prepared for the possibility that poor grades and emotional dysregulation would put him on the back foot and even get him expelled. I'd taught him all the coping mechanisms I could. I'd tried to show him as much love and patience as I could muster, and I'd show him the same now. We'd get through this. We would make it through this.

I nodded, resolute, even as doubt and worry niggled at the back of my mind. I'd raised Drew alone, without any support from my parents or Cassie, working a call center job that barely paid enough to live off of. I'd demanded a child psychiatrist the second Drew started displaying symptoms and beat the system for the help he deserved. I'd beat the system for the help I deserved. I was a badass. I was a badass.

I got out of the car.

The two people at the front desk--a woman with strawberry blonde hair and a baby-faced guy--looked over, presumably torn from their conversation, when I walked through the door. The woman swiveled her chair to face me with a friendly smile. "Hello there," she said. "How may I help you?"

I forced myself to look her in the eyes and strained through a smile. If you act like a weirdo, it'll just make things worse for Drew. "Hey," I said. "I'm, uh...Drew Griffith's father. You called me and--"

"Oh!" She gestured to the side, at a door that read: PRINCIPAL MOROZOV. "He's in there."

I looked over and gulped, staring in fear at the door. "Say, uh..." I smiled at the woman as politely as I could. "You wouldn't happen to know the correct social etiquette for talking to the principal after your son gets into a fight at school, would you?"

She gave me a funny look. "Huh?"

"Never mind." I hung my head in defeat and commenced the walk of dread to the front door of the office. The wall facing me was all glass, which meant I could see inside. Two adults, one natural-haired in a polo shirt with his arm around one of the kids in the chair beside him and the other behind a desk, looking stern. I couldn't see the other two kids or any other adults.

And then Principal Morozov spotted me through the glass and shit, I was out of time.

I took a deep breath and opened the door. "Sorry it took me so long," I said, hoping that was the right thing to say. "It was hard getting off work."

"It's all right," Principal Morozov said. "We haven't even reached Mr. Accardo yet."

"Hey, Dad," came the halfhearted voice of Drew, hidden behind a chair too big for him, especially when he slumped in it like that.

I peered over the top and smiled at him softly. "What the heck, kid?" I asked.

"He called Patton a freak." Drew pointed at the kid in the middle, with a busted nose and--oh God.

He had scattered burn marks across the right side of his face, with two differently-colored eyes and a scowl.

"So of course you had to beat me up," the kid sneers. "Because that's a perfectly rational, healthy thing to do."

The third kid--Patton, I presumed--bounced in his seat, humming in distress. His father, a man wearing glasses and a polo shirt with a tie, rubbed his back.

"I don't see why my son has to be here," the other father said, looking at Principal Morozov. "He didn't do anything."

“Patton sits alone at lunch time and doesn’t have any friends,” the principal said. “We think if he tried to get along with his peers better, he’d have a happier time here.”

“Or, you know, you could make an effort to teach your students not to bully kids who are different from them,” I grumbled.

“What was that, Mr. Griffiths?”

I hesitated, glancing up at Principal Morozov, then back at Drew. On one hand, I wanted to lead by example: teach Drew that it was okay to stand up to authority for what he believed. On the other, sometimes, you had to pay lip-service to authority just to stay out of trouble. It was a lesson no child had the mental capacities to understand, but I supposed I’d have to do my best to teach him, because if I gave Principal Morozov cheek, he might expel Drew.

“Nothing, sir,” I said, feeling like a child cowering beneath the glare of my teachers again. I prepared to search for the bullshit in the story I was about to get fed and asked, “What happens now?”

"I'd prefer to wait for Mr. Accardo," the principal said.

"Roman teaches at a high school," the bully grumbled, slouched over with a glare fixated on the desk. "He's probably in the middle of class."

"Then you're going to have to stay after school to address this," Principal Morozov told him sternly.

"Whatever."

I had a very bad feeling about that kid. The scars on his face told a frightening story. He could just as easily be bullied for those as Drew got bullied for his ADHD and Patton for being a loner, which probably meant he turned that abuse outward and attacked others for their perceived differences in a never-ending cycle of abuse.

What? I could be bad at people and have a special interest in human psychology. Those two things were not mutually exclusive.

Suddenly, the door banged open. I jumped out of my skin, clamping a hand over my chest and struggling to breathe levelly, eyes crushed shut and body frozen. Then I heard the babbling.

"I'm sorry!" The principal's door opened. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. The kids were in the middle of rehearsal and--Janus, what happened? I'm so sorry, Mr. Morozov." A frazzled man with warm skin rushed inside and sat down next to the bully--Janus--hastily hugging him and turning his attention to the principal.

I frowned at the scene. I withheld judgment and looked at Principal Morozov as he said, "All right. Now that you're all here, there are going to be some serious consequences to what happened today."

********

"I can't believe you let him give me detention!" Drew whined. "Janus deserved to get punched!"

"And you deserve to die abandoned and unloved in a ditch, steeping in your own feces," Janus snapped.

"Janus," his father, Roman, said firmly, kneeling down and taking him by the shoulders. Janus tried to turn away from him, but Roman lightly shook him and made him meet his eyes. He softened. "I know how much you're hurting, but a hero never redirects his pain onto others. There are other ways."

"What if I don't want to be a hero?" Janus snapped. "What if I want to be the bad guy?"

"I don't believe that," Roman said gently, adjusting his bangs. "I don't think you do, either."

Janus turned from him sharply, crossing his arms and glaring at the asphalt. He sniffled.

Drew glanced up at me in confusion and I rubbed his back. "Sometimes," I said gently, "when people are hurting, they deal with that by hurting other people."

"That's stupid," Drew said with the blunt confidence of a ten-year-old.

"Maybe a little," I agreed, "but humans aren't always logical." Drew wrinkled his nose. "I know. It's so annoying, but it's true. You're not always logical, either. Remember when you burst out crying because your pencil broke?"

"Dad!" Drew turned bright red.

Roman chuckled. "So." He stood up and crossed his arms. "You're the little rascal who dared challenge Janus to a duel for--Patton, right?" He looked at Mr. Davis--or Logan, as he'd introduced himself--who nodded. "You're the rascal who challenged Janus to a duel for Patton's honor," Roman finished.

"He was being an asshole," Drew protested.

"I'd say it's not my fault he uses that language," I said through a wince, "but it's definitely my fault he uses that language."

"I'm the same way with Janus, don't worry." Roman chuckled--a low, rumbly sound. He turned back to Drew. "You're got a paladin's heart and a temper. I was a lot like you when I was a kid."

Drew snorted. "You think you're cute, don't you?"

"He's always like this," Janus said, shoving in front of Roman. "He thinks it's so inspiring to talk about heroes all the time, like fairy tales are the best thing ever."

"That's gotta be annoying," Drew said, wrinkling his nose.

"It is." Janus stopped and scowled. "Don't relate to me!"

"Ew! You're a jerk! Get away from me!"

I exchanged a fond, exasperated look with Roman, who chuckled and squeezed Janus' shoulder. "Hey," he said, "maybe, if you apologized, you could have a friend."

"I don't want to apologize."

"So you'd rather another kid think you're a horrible person!"

Janus hesitated a moment before straightened his back. "Yes."

"I don't believe that."

I glanced over at Logan and saw that he was busy talking to Patton, kneeling on the ground and smoothing his hands over his shoulders in measured strokes. It seemed to soothe Patton. I looked at Drew.

"You know how it sometimes hurts you when you think about your Aunt Cassie?" I said softly, pulling him into my side as the shadow washed over his face.

"He called Patton a freak, Dad," Drew argued. "He's not even really my friend, but he's not a freak. He's just...different. Like me."

"I know, kiddo," I said, squeezing him against my side. "You don't have to give him a chance. He hasn't asked forgiveness, and you wouldn't owe him one even if you did. I just know you don't like to see people struggling alone."

Drew hesitated.

I looked over at Logan. "How's Patton?"

Logan glanced back at me, then looked at Patton. "Do you want to answer?"

Patton hesitated.

"It's okay," I said, not looking at his face. Patton hadn't made eye contact with a single person, including his father, since I'd met him. He clearly had more trouble with it than I did, and I wasn't always a huge fan. "I'm autistic, too."

Patton immediately perked up. "Really?"

"Yeah." I smiled, looking over the top of his head. I looked at Drew. "Can I tell him about you?"

"I'm ADHD," Drew told him, turning to him. "I got diagnosed last year."

"Oh cool!" Patton flapped his hands at his sides and bounced eagerly. "I don't, I don't think, because I'm actually pretty good at focusing most of the time and I have a really good memory, but Dad says autism and ADHD are really close together. It's really nice to meet someone else! I don't have many friends."

"Well, I guess you have me," Drew said. "I didn't get in trouble defending you for nothing."

Patton squealed and continued stimming enthusiastically. Drew offered a hug, which Patton considered for a long moment before accepting.

Logan smiled softly at the exchange and looked over to me. "You've raised a very kind son."

"More than half of it is all him," I said. "I do the best I can, but...I'm just one person. He's probably gonna hate me once he's a teenager."

"Nuh-uh!" Drew objected, charging over to embrace me around the middle. I smiled and hugged him close, squeezing him as tight as was safe. He grunted.

I caught Janus staring at us. I couldn't read his expression. He was glaring, but I had a feeling it wasn't anger. But clearly, Roman did understand it, because he knelt down and hugged him close, even when he tried to push him away. He just held fast. I thought for sure Janus would react badly--he hadn't wanted to be held, what was wrong with Roman?--but then he slowly relaxed and leaned against him. I still couldn't read him very well, but that...didn't look particularly resigned.

"You know," Roman said, pulling back after a long while, "I bet Drew and Patton would be willing to forgive you if you really, really earnestly apologized."

Janus shoved away from him, crossing his arms and glaring at the ground. "I don't want to apologize."

Roman sighed heavily, and Drew whirled on him. "You're such a freaking jerk!" he screamed. "What's wrong with you? Why do you have to be a jerk to everyone? I tried to be your friend and you just spit on me!"

"I don't want your pity!"

"It wasn't pity!"

"It's always pity!" Janus screeched. "You think I don't know what these scars make me? You think I don't know I'm a freak? If the fire didn't teach me that, then my parents sure did! I'm nothing! The only reason anyone would be nice to me is pity and I don't want anyone's pity! I just want to be left alone!"

Janus turned and ran. Roman chased after him frantically, never sparing Logan or I a glance.

Drew and Patton stood stunned. Drew looked at Patton, who stared at his forehead. "Well..." he said. "What the heck am I supposed to do now?"

Patton ran in the direction of Janus.

At that point, about the only thing for Drew and I to do was chase after his new friend, hot on the heels of his father.

We found Patton with his backpack unzipped, standing beside Janus' car door, already buckled in with Roman partway into the driver's seat, holding out a picture of a flower.

"It's ivy," Patton said. "It means friendship."

Janus stared at him through the window, unmoving. Patton, to my shock, held his gaze for one, two moments and then averted his eyes. Logan hurried over to hold him, clearly expecting Janus to reject him again.

Janus opened the car door. "Why would you want to be my friend?"

"He didn't say he wanted to be your friend," Drew sneered. "He just said it meant friendship, dummy."

"Drew," I chided softly, and he recoiled into my side.

"Because it's nice to know I'm not the only one who can't make any friends," Patton said. "I like having other friends who are special."

"I'm not special," Janus snapped.

"Dad says that being different is always special, because different people have discovered some of the coolest, prettiest things ever."

"It's true," Logan said. "Albert Einstein, Hans Christian Anderson, and Michelangelo. were all autistic."

"See?" Patton bounced and beamed at Janus. "So maybe we can all be different and special together and do really cool things one day! Like the three Musketeers."

Janus considered strongly. "I'm Athos."

"You can be whoever you want to be!" Patton said earnestly. "Then we can all have lots of musketcheer."

Drew, Roman and I choked on a laugh. Logan shook his head fondly. "He watches one sitcom that likes puns and he suddenly won't stop," he said.

Even Janus cracked a small smile. He accepted the paper. "Fine," he said. "We can have musketcheer."

Drew pouted. "Does this mean I'm your friend now?"

"Yes," Patton said firmly, looking at him.

Drew jumped, looking fearfully at Patton, who somehow managed to look intimidating while also avoiding eye contact. He looked up at me. "What have I done?" he asked.

"Made friends." I rubbed his back. I looked around. "We should probably get all these guys home. They've had a long day, and school will be letting out soon."

"I guess now that all our kids are friends, I'll be seeing more of you," Roman said to both Logan and me.

Logan hummed. "I presume so. Patton does not own a phone of his own. I can give you my number if your children wish to contact him?"

"I hate to say it, but you should probably get him his own phone," I said. "It's dangerous not to have one. If I ever lost sight of Drew...I'd rather he have a phone."

Logan considered this. "I suppose you have a point. Nevertheless, for the moment, you'll have to go through me to reach Patton."

"Don't have to ask me twice. Here." Roman accepted Logan's phone and typed in Janus' number, then passing it to Drew, who stared at it for a moment.

I recited his number to him and he punched it in. "Don't worry, kid," I said. "One day, you're going to have to tell so many doctors your number that it's going to be emblazoned on your brain."

After all numbers had been exchanged, I shook Logan's and Roman's hands goodbye and let Patton and Drew embrace again. Janus stayed stubbornly in his seat, refusing any sort of affection, which kind of concerned me, but then Roman whispered, "This is the most receptive he's been since I started fostering him."

I nodded and smiled, leading Drew back toward the car. He looked at me. "I guess I have friends now."

I glanced back toward Roman's car as it drove away and caught Logan's eye as he loaded into his own. He smiled at me.

"Yeah," I said. "I think I might have, too."

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Jaskier has started referring to the parts of his life as pre-dragon hunt and post-dragon hunt. He doesn't like to refer to the actual incident because he tries to think about it as little as possible, but even pretending like it didn't happen, his life post-hunt is nothing to brag about.

He's never really felt like he belonged anywhere; he didn't fit with his family, he annoyed most of the other kids his age - Oxenfurt may have been the only place he felt comfortable. But all of that changed when he met Geralt because he was just as fucked up as Jaskier is and no one had wanted him either and with him, Jaskier had elevated them both. And it was good, for a while. Or at least he had thought it was. He doesn't think much about his Witcher anymore. His heart aches to know that even someone who knew and understood the pain of not being wanted could throw him away so easily.

Evidently, Jaskier is entirely unlovable.

Which is fine, he tells himself. He can still charm his way through court and find people to keep him company for a time. And even if they too move on, he'll get by. After all, nothing could be as bad as losing someone you thought was a kindred spirit. Nothing could be as bad as losing your one true friend.

But he doesn't think about that anymore.

Except when he's composing. When he can't find the words because anything uplifting sounds false and falls flat on his tongue. The only words he can get to flow are dark and melancholy and they get him thinking about feelings and people he would rather forget. Only how could he? Whatever possessed Geralt to shun him after twenty-two years, Jaskier doesn't share it.

Maybe it's because witchers don't have emotions. Jaskier had thought that was some sort of line, but maybe Geralt is just good at pretending to feel after all.

The longer he spends alone, the more somber his writing becomes and the less people want to pay to hear it. The only thing they want to hear anymore is Toss a Coin and Jaskier can't bring himself to play that anymore. The only song about Geralt he can stomach playing is one he wrote for himself and he's not ready for anyone else to hear. Not that they would want to anyway, it's not as though it's any happier than the rest of his repertoire.

He travels for a while but eventually, without the coin from performing, he needs to find somewhere to settle for a while. Somewhere he can find some other job. No one wants a bard who makes people miserable, so he makes his way to Oxenfurt because it's the only other place he knows he can find work. And maybe someone there will be happy to see him.

He arrives mid-afternoon on a sunny day and while he receives a warmer welcome than he has in months, it still doesn't feel quite right. He and Geralt had something special and no amount of familiar faces will help him recreate that - especially if it was all in his head to begin with.

It feels good to have his position back as a professor and Jaksier enjoys the constant stream of people in and out of the college, but his happiness is hollow. So many of the people here who he once considered friends seem more like acquaintances in comparison to the closeness he felt with Geralt. Maybe he's being too picky; the people here are kind and accepting and much less often request to hear songs about the Witcher he made famous.

So Jaskier tries. He tries harder than he ever has before to fit in and to be accepted, but even as he tries, even as he considers changing things about himself it doesn't feel right. He doesn't only want to be accepted, but to be accepted for who he is. And he's not perfect, but who is? Certainly not any of the people who have abandoned him in the past.

Over the next few months, he makes a routine for himself. He teaches classes during the days and most nights in the evenings will go to the tavern to drink and talk. Occasionally, he can be convinced to play a song or two if he's had a lot to drink, but mostly he goes to watch and listen.

Then one night he's been having a bad day. He can't quite place what's wrong, but everything just feels off and he feels more alone today than he has in a long time. He makes it through the day and doesn't even return to his room before heading off to the tavern to sit alone in the corner with a mug of ale.

He realizes when one of the regulars casts a suspicious look in his direction, that this must be what Geralt felt like that first day so many years ago. All he had wanted was peace and quiet and a drink and instead, he had gotten Jaskier. No wonder he didn't have to think twice about getting rid of him. At least Jaskier doesn't have to worry about anyone approaching him tonight; the few other patrons seem to realize it's best to keep their distance.

He thinks back to a younger version of himself, fearless and fascinated, approaching Geralt of Rivia and demanding a review of his performance. Three words or less he had said and Geralt had given him three exactly. He frowns thinking about it now and his heart aches as though something is wrapped around it, squeezing the life from it.

A group of other professors comes in a little later and the crowd grows. A few people say hello, but no one stays to sit and no one really wants to talk. A young aspiring bard gets up and sings Toss a Coin and Jaskier decides it's time to leave.

He's not drunk, not really, but it seems to take him ages to get back to his room and when he does, he flops down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Every night he spends here, staring up at these same beams and he feels trapped. He misses lying out under the stars and staring up at trees that swayed in the breeze. Even now in the dead of winter, he would trade his comfort and safety for the freedom of traveling.

But what's the point in traveling alone?

For the first time in a long time, he lets himself think of Geralt. He thinks back on all the good times, on all the nights they spend out in the wilderness either out of desire or necessity and he thinks about playing music around the fire. Occasionally, Geralt would even sing with him if he knew the words and those nights were the best of all.

Jaskier aches to think of them now, to think of all they used to have and everything he wishes he could gain back. But Geralt made it inescapably clear that Jaskier is not what he wants and all he can do now is try to accept that.

When he falls asleep at long last, it's thinking about golden eyes and white hair tinged orange by firelight.

The next afternoon there's a commotion in town and Jaskier, wanting something to take his mind off things, goes to check out what it is. He regrets it the second he walks into the inn.

"Is it true the Witcher is here?" someone asks and Jaskier freezes in place.

"They said a witcher," someone corrects, "not the witcher."

"But it is him, isn't it?"

Jaskier doesn't wait around long enough to hear whether or not the consensus is that yes, it is Geralt, the great White Wolf. Jaskier retreats quickly, heading back to his room because if it is him, he doesn't want to see him. Even if it isn't him - not likely, with his luck - Jaskier's had enough of Witchers to last a lifetime, thank you very much.

He tells the few people he sees that he'll be writing and would prefer not to be disturbed before heading up to lock himself away in his room. They're happy enough that he's writing again that there's no hesitation in their agreement and Jaskier feels confident that he will be left alone. His confidence only lasts as long as the peace outside his bedroom door lasts.

Within the hour, there's some sort of argument taking place downstairs and while he wants to know what's going on, he keeps to himself. He has even started writing a little and he'd like to keep the flow going while he can. He ignores it for as long as he can, but then there's a knock on the door. Dreading who might be outside, Jaskier pretends not to hear.

The first two times, he pretends, but then the knock comes again and he sighs and heaves himself up from his bed. He crosses the room on unsteady legs and pulls the door open. He's expecting someone to be there asking him to come down and talk to the Witcher because it is Geralt. He's probably doing something unpleasant like walking around covered in guts or something. What he's not expecting is to open the door to the man himself.

Immediately, he shuts it again. Geralt pushes it open and steps into the room.

"No, no, no, no, no, I am not getting mixed up in whatever this is.

"There's nothing to get mixed up in," Geralt says and despite his best efforts, something inside Jaskier crumbles. It aches to reach out to him, to stand beside him again. Jaskier holds his ground.

"Good," he says, "then you can go." It takes every ounce of his strength, but he crosses to the door, brushing past Geralt and holding the door open for him.

Something in Geralt's face softens and Jaskier pretends not to notice, doing his very best to remain stoic. Geralt steps toward him and as Jaskier's breath catches in his chest, the door is pulled from his hands and Geralt shuts it behind them.

"I was passing through and I heard you were here," he says. Jaskier wants to ask where he's coming from and to where he's going that Oxenfurt just happened to land neatly between them, but he doesn't trust himself to speak. And while he's not trying to remain civil, calling Geralt out on a lie might not be the best course of action.

Geralt sighs, resigning himself to the lack of reciprocation and his shoulders slump. "I knew you were here," he admits. "I've been looking for you for months until I ran into a bard who recognized me and asked why I wasn't with you."

"Did you tell him it was because you decided you'd had enough of me?" Jaskier asks bitterly and Geralt shuts his eyes, breathing sharply.

"No. And that's not true."

"Right," Jaskier scoffs, "because that's why you tell people to leave. If life could give you one blessing, that's what you said."

"I know and I'm sorry." Jaskier's heart is pounding now, beating so quickly he's afraid it might burst, but he doesn't move, even when Geralt takes a step toward him. "Come back," Geralt says and Jaskier can feel every fibre of his being pulling him toward Geralt, but he won't give in so easily.

"You don't want me," he says, "you just don't want to be alone."

"I do. I was wrong when I said those things. I was angry and I took it out on you." Geralt looks at him, but Jaskier refuses to meet his eyes. They're both silent for a moment before Geralt reaches out, hesitating before pulling his arm back. "I miss you."

"Hm," Jaskier responds, not trusting himself with actual words.

"I think about you every day. When someone sings that god awful song or when it's too quiet in the dark at night. I miss having you around, I miss listening to you sing. I want you to come back."

Jaskier shuts his eyes and listens. Geralt has moved closer and if he was to reach out, even to just move his hand forward, he could touch him. He's been dreaming of this moment for a long time but it doesn't feel like he expected it to. He thought he would feel good, that everything would suddenly be fine, but he almost feels more hurt now than he did before.

"I'm sorry I never told you before. I'm leaving in the morning. If you want to come with me, meet me at the stables. If you're not there, I'll know you've made your choice." He turns and pulls the door, disappearing out into the hall and leaving Jaskier alone in the room.

He's overwhelmed and it takes a few minutes for him to even remember how to breathe. In his time alone, he'd forgotten the effect Geralt has on him, and worse, he seemed genuine about his offer. Geralt never says that much at once unless he's mad and he definitely didn't seem mad. He considers it for a moment because maybe he does want him back.

Alone in his room, he realizes there's only one option and he sighs, letting his arms fall limp at his sides.

"Fuck."

- - - - -

The sun is just rising over the horizon and Jaskier is anxious, wondering if he made the right decision. It's a matter of the rest of his life and finding somewhere he can belong and he doesn't know whether he has. He's quiet as the sun rises and down the road and he hears footsteps approaching and the familiar whinny of a horse. Jaskier sucks in a deep breath and one last time and cements his decision in his mind, just as a familiar figure approaches up the hill.

Geralt smiles at him, and Jaskier's heart melts despite himself. Next to him, Roach leans over the gate of her stall, nibbling at his hair and he thinks maybe he chose right.

"Did you really miss me?" he asks as Geralt comes closer.

"Yes," Geralt says, not slowing his stride as he approaches. He wraps strong arms around Jaskier's shoulders and pulls him close, resting his head against his. Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut, returning the embrace and inhaling the Geralt's scent.

As he pulls back, he looks up at him and the faintest sliver of doubt creeps into his mind again. "Prove it," he says, stepping back and without a moment's hesitation, Geralt takes his face in his hands, closing the gap between them again and kissing him more tenderly than Jaskier thinks he's ever been kissed in his life.

His knees are weak and his eyes sting with unshed tears as he lets himself be bundled up into loving arms. When Geralt breaks away again, he presses his face into Jaskier's neck, breathing softly.

"Forgive me," he pleads and Jaskier couldn't deny him if he wanted to.

[qslovebot]

Doubt, Denial, and Fucking Destiny: Raymond Wadsworth

Summary: After reconnecting with Raymond when he returns to town, he finds it hard to believe that he was your childhood crush due to the many years he spent believing he was unlovable. Your crush on him never left, it was simply buried, so you prove that you did like him and maybe still do?

Pairing: Raymond Wadsworth x Short Fem!Reader

Warnings/Includes: alcohol presence, mention of past verbal abuse and bullying, mention of weight loss, self-doubt, low self-esteem, kissing.

Raymond Wadsworth never thought himself deserving of any sort of proper love.

He grew up in a home where every day his stuck-up father pointed out his mental and physical flaws, his wrong choices, and his past and present failures with no hesitation or apology. Constantly under scrutiny and judgement at home, school wasn't much better. It may have even been worse.

The kids would poke fun at Raymond for his looks, his weight being the main target of most of the insults and he dug himself deeper by eating his feelings away.

To top it all off, he spent his childhood believing that he could see and communicate with the dead. With ghosts, to be more specific. And his father called him crazy for it all. You heard whispers of it around the school.

Raymond's childhood was hard, you knew that then as you knew it now, watching him prepare to drink himself away as you watched him down chocolate milk after a beating by older kids in the park years earlier. Many... years earlier. Too many- was this even Raymond?

He was taller now, maybe 6'1, nearly 6'2? He was much thinner now, but he looked decently healthy and his hair was still just as unruly as it had been all the way back then. He was, in fact here and he was also very very very attractive. To you, maybe. He'd always been attractive, even before he became who he was before he returned to the town.

Being about four years younger than him, you had admired him endlessly and achingly as a child. To be frank, he never took notice of you that way, only seeing you as the annoying little brat with the pigtails who chased him around the playground back then.

It was stupid that your heart skipped a beat the moment you knew it was truly him. It had been decades since you last saw him and you'd had many unlasting relationships since then. Here was your crush from when you were merely five and your heart fluttered? Stupid. Ahead of yourself.

But you wandered over to him anyway, sitting down next to him on the barstool. "I thought you had a blood pressure issue," you started, smiling as he froze the hand that held the shot he was about to throw back.

"Yeah... how did you know that?" He questioned before actually looking at you. The moment he lifted his head to get a glance at who was speaking to him, it was like all his organs stopped working at once. He choked on pure air at the sight of you. You couldn't help but smile.

He continued coughing and you laughed, "I don't think taking that shot is a good idea anyway... do you need water, Raymond?" You knowing his name set off a new round of coughing and you and the bartender nodded at each other as they placed a cup of water in front of Raymond.

You watched him try to recalibrate his respiratory system and eventually, he regained his breath, looking up at you through curls. "I'm sorry, uh, hot girls- they usually don't just walk up and talk to me."

"Aaand hot men usually don't choke on absolutely nothing when I approach them, so there's a first time for everything." You smiled, folding your hands and resting them under your chin. It seemed like it took him an extra second to process that you had just called him hot. He was just as shy-seeming as he was then. It seemed like he was also trying to place your face. "You don't remember me?"

"I think I do, I just can't place where..."

"I'll jog your memory," you suggested, immediately reaching to pull your hair into ponytails that stayed put with your fists. You lowered yourself a little and nodded, pulling your mouth to one side to mimic the way you looked so long ago and his jaw dropped.

"(Y/N)! No way! Oh my god, you're still 5'2!" He gasped, running a hand through his hair. So he did remember you after all. "-And you have boobs now, that's- that's great." His eyes drifted and you snapped to get his attention back up to your face. "You look- you look great, holy fuck."

"Thak you, so do you," you shook your hair out again and bit your lip. "You look so much happier."

"You can say skinnier," he shrugged.

"I would say skinnier if that's what I meant, Raymond, but I meant happier." He seemed a little bit surprised. "I see that you are but frankly it never mattered to me. I liked you anyway."

His eyebrows narrowed, "Liked me anyway? Weren't you like... five when we met? I was... nine-ish. And you... you would follow me around, was that a crush?"

"It was," you admit, a small smile tugging your lips again, eyes fluttering from his hands back up to Raymond, who looked baffled. It made sense that he thought nobody liked him back then. Your reveal to liking him then seemed to grip him with shock well enough. Wait until he understood just how long. "-And it lasted until I was thirteen and you were... seventeen. I think that's around when you went, wasn't it?"

He nodded, eyes drifting. You snapped again and his mind snapped back to where it should be. "Y-yeah. When did all this... happen, because when I left you were..."

"Conventionally unattractive." You finished. "Well there's one word to sum it up and it's puberty. It hit me, it hit you and now we are right back where we started and you seem just as likeable."

"And you're far less annoying..." he trailed off. "I cannot believe you're still here."

"I can't believe you're back." You grinned. You could see his interest in you as he sat there. Was he wearing pyjamas? It all seemed to add up. You were here, he was back, and your heart kept fluttering oddly. So you spewed it, "I think my crush for you is still here, oddly enough."

It was fun to see him joke on air again. "You still like... me?" He seemed so shocked to hear it. "Woah woah woah, no. You can't have my wallet. Or are you a prostitute now?"

"Not a prostitute, I was trying to hit on you while being sweet at the same time," I sighed, downing the shot Raymond had in front of him. He didn't seem to care much about it. He was swallowing hard now, sharp cheekbones flushed.

"Genuinely trying to hit on me?" He questioned again. He really didn't believe you, huh? But it made sense, what with his upbringing. The overweight kid who saw ghosts- the reputation didn't fare well. So you decided maybe,

"We should get out of here, Raymond. Those bitches over there are still picking on you and you can't really drink without your blood pressure killing you, so I say we just go for a walk." You suggested. His long fingers rested on the edge of the bar and you let your smaller hand close around his. "I've paid for my drinks and I will pay for yours." You slapped money down on the counter for the bartender.

"A walk?" Was all he could really say before you led him out of the bar and into the night. You could only imagine what was going on in his mind. An ugly annoying girl from his childhood was now hot and socially decent and now he finds that girl still likes him and always liked him, even at his worst... Must be exciting.

The breeze was cool outside, but the air around the flow was warm. You finally answered, once a few steps from the bar entrance. "Yes, a walk. Bar settings tense you up, look at how loose you are now. You don't even notice you're still holding my hand." You teased, giving his hand a squeeze before interlocking your fingers with his. He turned pink again and it could be seen even in the flickering lights of the street.

"I suppose I'm confused... You don't think I'm gay?"

You narrowed your eyes, "Are you?"

"NO!" He shouted back. "Why does everyone think that?"

What the fuck? "I never suspected you were but looking at you, maybe it's the ascot."

"The ascot?"

"The ascot." You replied with a small smile. "I don't think you look gay... I don't even think it's possible to look gay. You do look cute though. Maybe those other bitches who called you gay are gay."

He nodded, halfway through untying it. Both of you kept walking down the sidewalk. "Thank you." I could tell he was trying not to say too much now. He was doubting himself.

I sighed, swinging Raymond's arm over my shoulder, fingers never unlocking. I could feel his hand trembling a little. "Raymond, I know this was sprung on you, but I did and do like you. I have yet to properly figure who you are now, but I do." You made sure to look up at him so he knew you were serious.

His mouth was open as if he wanted to speak, but couldn't. Until he did. "Are you sure you're not a prostitute?"

Holy fucking shit. You began to rant, "No, Raymond! I'm just a girl. I'm just a girl and I like you and I want to maybe know you before you head off again. This whole town is a fucking gravity pit, a fucking black hole and I would like for once, for someone to want to talk to me. AND, I would like nothing more than for you to know that people are in fact capable of liking you romantically, despite everything your asshole father may have told you, or the kids at school who couldn't see your worth then or now and I-"

He spun you, fingers still intertwined and suddenly, his lips were on yours, and he wasn't particularly sweet or gentle. In fact, it was ravenous. He pushed you against the wall of the building you were passing. It seemed like the slightest bit of reassurance, the slightest bit of someone showing him how much he was worth, set him off. But you didn't really care.

Raymond's shaking hands slid into the roots of your hair, holding your face as he kissed you with great passion. With muffled 'mmmm's and wandering hands, you gripped him by the ascot, holding him down to your height.

But you couldn't kiss him much longer. "Raymond, I don't want to take advantage of your insecurities," You mumbled against his lips. You had been more confident earlier, but he had you practically unravelling. "I've always liked you, I have, and I'm so glad we just kissed, but-"

"My heart is beating too fast to properly hear, but I know you're sweet as hell and I really just want to pretend we're teenagers and make out for forty minutes nonstop, is that okay?" He interrupted with rambling, and it was more than clear what he wanted.

"How about forty-five, ghost boy?" You yanked him down by the ascot again and his hands went right back to either side of your face while he pulled you into the alleyway. He got his forty-five minutes and it ended sweetly, with him making you promise to come and see him tomorrow. You agreed, watching him go. He walked backward as to say goodbye, but tripped over a garbage can.

He was alright. There would be a conversation piece in the bruise he would probably get tomorrow. Call it fate or call it fucking destiny that he was back and your feelings were still there. All these years and you finally had what you'd wanted so long ago. Plus, it was only the beginning.

[breanime]

Bre's Boys as dads.... How do they rectify it when they realise they've been letting work come first too much lately. Obv they wouldn't allow that overall but sometimes things get busy and your schedule can change without you noticing.

Billy Russo: Billy was used to waking up early and hearing the excited footsteps of his son running to greet him, but this morning it was different. Your son walked into the living room where Billy was on his computer, saw his father, and didn’t say anything. He just grabbed his stuffed turtle from the toy bin and walked off. “Did you see that?” Billy asked you, trying to keep the disappointment and confusion out of his voice. You sighed, shrugging. “He’s a little upset with you.” Billy’s heart stopped. “He is? Why?” You looked away, and Billy could already feel the guilt seeping in. “He says you love Anvil more than you love him.” And that sentence broke Billy’s heart. He made sure to go and talk to your son, and after that day, he made every effort he could to be home at a reasonable time and spend time with his family. The last thing he wanted was for his kid to ever feel they were unloved or unwanted, and he vowed to never let his son feel that way again. 

Logan Delos: When Logan came back from working overseas for over a month, and your daughter cried when she saw him; he knew he’d been away for too long. Logan told the company that he wouldn’t do any more long distance meetings for a while, and he actually took some time away from the office and worked at home. He remembered what it was like to be a kid and barely know his own father, and he did NOT want his daughter to know a life like that. So he worked from home and made sure he had lunch with her every day and read to her every night, determined to make sure he was always a distinct part of her life. 

Jax Teller: The club was dealing with a lot of shit lately, so Jax was extremely busy. He came home one night, just in time for story time, and he was about to surprise you and your sons, but then he heard his baby boy’s soft voice ask “does Daddy not like me anymore?” “Of course he likes you. He loves you,” you answer just as Jax’s heart breaks. “But he doesn’t come home no more... Did I do something bad?” “No,” Abel answers from his bed, “Daddy just doesn’t like to be at home.” And that made Jax want to cry. The next morning, he surprised the boys (and you) with chocolate chip pancakes and spent the whole day with them. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do this all the time, but he promised himself to do it as much as he could, and to never let his family think they weren’t the absolute most important thing in his life--and he did. 

Coco Cruz: Coco is unbelievably pissed at himself when he misses your daughter’s preschool graduation. You try to make him feel better, telling him it wasn’t a big deal and there would be more events and programs in the future, but he felt like shit. All he had to remember that special day were the pictures, and when he came home and tried to hug your daughter, she crossed her arms and refused to hug him back, and wow... That shit hurt. Coco stayed up all night, staring at the ceiling in the dark, trying to think of how he could make things better. He was a Mayan, of course, but he was a father and a husband too, and he knew he had to do better in those parts of his life. So he made efforts to be present more, to make it to the events and programs and recitals, and when he couldn’t--if he was in Mexico or stuck at the clubhouse--he would call or Facetime, so his baby girl never had to go a day in her life without hearing her father’s voice. 

Angel Reyes: When Angel’s baby boy calls EZ “Papa” and cries when he sees Angel, that’s when it hits him. Angel had been busting his ass for the club lately, and so he would send EZ over to the house to check on you and the baby and make sure everything was good at home. But this was becoming so frequent, your son hardly recognized him anymore, and that broke Angel’s heart. EZ tried to make him feel better, saying that his nephew knew that Angel was his Dad, but Angel knew he had to be around more--it was simple as that. So he did. He also made it a point to refer to himself as “Daddy” or “Papi” when he spoke to his son, just to kind of drill it in. He had felt inferior to and replaced by EZ far too often in his life, and he’d be damned if his own son chose EZ over him. 

Miguel Galindo: Miguel worked from home, but that didn’t mean he was around much. He made sure to show his face a few times a day, but he didn’t spend as much time with his kids as he wanted to. He was in-between calls, walking towards the library to grab a file, when he heard voices. “Bam bam,” your daughter said, her little squeaky voice making Miguel smile, “how come Papa doesn’t play with us like Mama does?” Miguel’s smile dropped. Cristobal sighed. “He’s too busy,” he answered, “Papa works a lot.” “Oh,” your daughter’s voice sounded sad, “does he like us?” Cristobal paused, and that pause said so much to Miguel. “I think so,” his son answered. That was it. Miguel took the family on a vacation and made sure to play with the kids as much as he could. Miguel remembered being a child and not really having a relationship with his father, and he hated the idea of being like Jose in that regard, so every day, Miguel made sure to spend actual, quality time with his children as much as he could. 

Nick Amaro: The day Nick calls his son the name of the perp on his latest case is the day he realizes he’s been working too much. The self-disgust is overwhelming, and Nick decides to take the some much needed time off to be with his family. It does wonders; he’s happier, you’re happier, the kids are happier--and Nick quickly comes to the conclusion that family time is beneficial to all of you, and he works hard to maintain and build that family time as best as he can. He can’t always spare hours on end, but he makes time as he gets it, which isn’t nearly as difficult as he thought it would be. Plus, there was no sound sweeter than the sound of his kids’ laughter, and he’d do anything to hear that sound as often as he could. 

Johnny Tuturro: Working with the FBI and being a father was tough, but Johnny thought he was pretty good at it. He was there, more often than not, when your daughter woke up in the morning, and he always called to say good night if he wasn’t home. He was kicking ass at this life thing--or so he thought. One night, when he called, he heard his precious baby girl say “I don’t wanna talk to Daddy!” “What? Why?” You asked. “I want Daddy to come home!” She cried back, and Johnny felt tears in his eyes as he listened to her cry. This half-in, half-out thing just wasn’t enough--he had to do better. So Johnny put in a request to get off of undercover work and work on cases from an office. He was able to have breakfast, dinner, and storytime with his family, and that made all the difference in the world. 

Rio: Rio came home late one night to find Marcus waiting for him. “What you still doin’ up, papa?” Rio asked, whispering so he didn’t wake you or his baby up. “I just wanted to see you,” Marcus answered, getting up, “We forgot what color your eyes were.” And with that, he was gone. Rio stood in the living room for what felt like hours after that, picturing Marcus and your son discussing him and not remembering what their dad looked like because he was working so much. The thought made him sick. He got on the phone then and told Mick they were gonna cut back on distribution until they found more reliable employees, and Rio made sure to spend as much quality time with you and the kids as he could. He knew, of course, that there would still be times he worked late, but he talked about his absences with the kids, and made sure they knew that their Daddy loved them, and would do with anything for them. So even if he was gone, they knew he would come back, and they knew how much he loved them. 

*******************************************************************************************

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[mopeytropey]

a beer bud series: chapter 11

author’s note: times are tough. stay safe. read some fluffy fic. take care of each other.

Timeline: this is set just before Lincoln and Octavia's wedding, probably in the realm of chapters 11 and 12 of apu, after Clarke has given Lexa a key and asked her to move in (because they are both too gay to function)

Beer: La Ferme Urbaine FARMHOUSE ALE

Influenced by the Belgian saison style, La Ferme Urbaine features a complex blend of German hops, pilsner and pale malts, wheat, rye, oats, and spelt. The beer pours a hazy straw color and delivers a spicy, dry finish.

ABV 7.8%

Posted to AO3 here, or below the cut: 

:::

:::

“This is going to require some intense renovations.” Lexa stands with her hands in her front pockets, neck craned towards a dilapidated two-story house on a small corner lot. Its Victorian architecture is nearly eclipsed by peeling paint, broken windows, and a sagging porch, but the way Lincoln’s face beams, it’s as if the house shows no signs of disrepair. “You sure you’re up to task?”

“Hell, yeah.” Lincoln’s confidence is as strong as the late afternoon sun, glaring in a burning orange glow as it reflects off the windows of the historic city buildings surrounding them.

He then launches into an animated diatribe of improvements and restoration projects, pacing the perimeter of the property as he gestures to certain aspects of the house with broad hands. He and Octavia have likely discussed these visions of their future home endlessly as they await inspection reports and closing signatures to make everything final. Their initial offer had been accepted almost immediately, and Lexa has to believe it is thanks to, in part (if not entirely), the authenticity of her good friend’s charming demeanor.

“It’ll be a massive undertaking, but with the right help—”

“You planning to swing a sledge with me during the demo stage?” Lincoln grins.

“God, no.” Lexa nearly shudders. “Though I imagine Clarke might enjoy the destructive release of aggression after some of her more challenging bar shifts.”

Lincoln chuckles and returns to stand by Lexa’s side as they continue to gaze up at the house. “Yeah, Octavia too.”

“I’m so excited for you.” Lexa smiles up at him, nudging their shoulders together as Lincoln meets her eye with a grin of his own. “About everything.”

His upcoming nuptials (which have explicitly been banned from being referred to as a wedding) are less than two months away, and Lincoln hopes to have the keys to their new house in hand before the ceremony. He and Octavia seem happier than ever—real life exemplars of a healthy, supportive relationship between two friends in love. Lexa feels a kindred satisfaction at having found something similar with Clarke. Perhaps no one would have predicted these outcomes, but she and Lincoln have done rather well for a couple of kids who spent years feeling unwanted and unloved.

“What can I say: I’m living my best life.”

“Truly,” Lexa laughs, leaning into the nook of Lincoln’s armpit as he wraps an arm around her shoulders.

Even for early April, the weather has warmed, and the sun hangs in the sky for longer intervals. There’s no longer a bite in the air, even in the cooler, evening temperature. The breezes coming in off of the harbor have a fresh scent, like rejuvenation in the air that will soon breed blossoms on all the trees and fresh shoots of grass beneath their feet.

Lexa is perfectly comfortable in her jeans and a soft, grey henley layered with a pastel flannel that she has permanently borrowed from Clarke’s side of the closet. A closet that they now share in an official capacity. Lexa’s mouth slopes into a stupid grin at the thought of their now shared space. Her stomach swoops because of the new gold key in her pocket that she can feel between her fingers.

“I could say the same for you,” Lincoln tells her, somehow reading her thoughts. “You get all your stuff moved in yet?”

Her breath stutters at the mention of it, at the vision of scattered boxes and her random belongings that have slowly infiltrated Clarke’s space. “My lease isn’t up until the end of the month, so I’ve been moving things gradually.”

“Not ready to fully commit, huh?” Lincoln jabs with a teasing grin.

“I feel exceptionally confident about it, thank you very much.”

“What? Just like that?” Lincoln laughs. “Where is the torturous, internal Lexa struggle? Where are the mountains of anxiety about making the wrong call or moving too fast? Is this what four months as Clarke’s girlfriend has done to you?”

Lexa shrugs as if her chest hasn’t just snapped like a rubber band at being called Clarke’s girlfriend, a title that still sparks jittery excitement. Particularly when she is still grasping the house key that Clarke has recently given her. “Apparently.”

“Well, it’s a good look on you.”

“Thanks.”

They’ve stopped at the house Lincoln intends to buy with Octavia on their way to food and beer at Dockside, having fallen into the habit of visiting the girls during their longest shift of the week. With the mention of Clarke and the newest development in their relationship, Lexa feels a sudden wave of impatience to continue their walk to the bar where she knows Clarke and Octavia will be waiting to greet them.

Lincoln releases a long, contented sigh. “Should we head down to see the girls?”

Lexa exhales in turn and attempts to answer in a measured and completely unhurried manner: “Sure.”

:::

It’s just shy of six when Lincoln pulls open the front door of Dockside, allowing Lexa to walk through into the familiar establishment. Her eyes perform a practiced scan of the room, but Clarke isn’t immediately visible as she and Lincoln head straight for the half-empty bar counter.

Octavia is chatting with other customers as Lexa and Lincoln approach, but she winks at Lincoln, her mouth curving just so, mid-conversation, which has him beaming as he slides into a bar stool.

“That’s my future wife,” he stage whispers, and Lexa can’t help but smile at how ridiculous being in love with Octavia has made him.

They’d been more than halfway to the bar when Lexa had received an S.O.S from Clarke about caffeine and sudden fatigue and exaggerated pronouncements of loyalty, commitment, and sexual favors if Lexa would bring her coffee. Of course, it strictly goes against her better judgement to enable Clarke’s reliance on caffeine in unhealthy measurements.

Then again, Lexa has lost almost all ability to ever actually tell her no because being in love with Clarke has made her better judgements ridiculously feeble.

As such, she stands beside Lincoln with a small half-caf drip in a paper cup from Clarke’s favorite roaster, a generous concession without fully giving in to her girlfriend’s unredeemable habit.

“Clarke’s in the back if you want to bring that to her,” Octavia says as she approaches.

“Oh. Okay.” Lexa starts for the black swinging door of storage before Octavia calls out again.

“Sorry—not the stockroom. The other back.” She’s jutting her thumb over her shoulder when Lexa turns around, indicating the narrow corridor behind the bar counter that leads to Clarke’s office and the back entrance.

“Oh. Right. Thanks,” Lexa smiles. “I’ll be right back,” she says to Lincoln.

“I’m starting a timer on my phone,” he calls after her. “Just because I’m curious to see how long it takes you to deliver a cup of coffee.”

She just manages to stop herself from flipping him off before pushing through the door, leaving him with a meaningless scowl.

:::

Clarke looks up from whatever she’s been working on as Lexa steps into the open doorway with a smile she intends to curb by biting her lower lip.

“Hey.”

“Oh my god, I can't believe you actually brought me coffee. I love you.” Clarke says it offhand, a bit theatrically even, but Lexa’s stomach flip-flops all the same.

She enters the office with a slow stride and gently places the paper cup onto Clarke’s desk. “That’s half decaf, by the way.”

Clarke’s face falls as she eyes the beverage with sudden disdain. “Oh my god, I can’t believe we have to break up.”

“Ouch. It’s nice to see you, too.”

“Get over here.” Clarke has already snared her wrist with a widening smile, pulling at Lexa’s arm so that she is forced to lean across the desk and meet Clarke’s waiting grin. “Hi,” she almost whispers after their lips part.

“Is this how you typically break up with people? Because it’s actually pretty enjoyable,” Lexa murmurs into the space between their lips.

“Shut up,” Clarke laughs before they are kissing again, Lexa’s palms flat against the desktop while Clarke’s fingers thread into her hair.

It’s still a soft greeting and nothing obscene—two people happy to be in the same space again after a short time apart—but Lexa feels the quickening of her pulse all the same.

“Thank you for my fake coffee.”

“Clarke.”

“Lexa.”

Never before has she felt so unapologetically mocked by a single person yet utterly enamored in spite of it. Lexa pinches her lips together and looks away from Clarke’s teasing smile.

“I have to get back out there,” she announces, finally pulling back to stand at her full height. “Lincoln thinks he’s being clever by setting a timer for my return.”

Clarke stands with a laugh. “I’ll come with you. I need a break from these orders anyway.” She holds her fake coffee with one hand and finds Lexa’s fingers with the other. She kisses Lexa’s shoulder cap and regards her fondly. “I’m never getting this shirt back, am I?”

“Especially not now that we’ve broken up.”

The genuine hurt that immediately darkens Clarke’s eyes coupled with her protruding lower lip stops Lexa from moving towards the office doorway.

She stills her movements entirely as Clarke says, “I don’t want to joke about breaking up anymore.”

“It was your joke to begin with,” Lexa softly reminds her, nevertheless smoothing the pad of her thumb over Clarke’s lower lip.

“I know,” Clarke says, frowning still. “It was a stupid joke, and I don’t like to think about it.”

A soft press of her lips to Clarke’s forehead has her leaning into the touch, releasing Lexa’s fingers to curl an arm around Lexa’s waist.

“If you think you would be able to get rid of me that easily, Clarke, we might need to revisit some previous conversations about my intentions in being with you.”

“I seem to recall some very persuasive measures that we engaged in alongside those conversations,” Clarke says, her smile pressing into Lexa’s neck where she has tucked her head beneath Lexa’s chin.

Lexa hums through a smile of her own. If she didn’t know Clarke so well, it would be easy to mistake her perpetual, single-minded focus on sex as a complete lack of sentimentality.

But, Lexa isn’t fooled.

Clarke thrives on crass innuendo and well-meaning objectification (both of herself and Lexa), but she can also be openly sensitive and affectionate. Vulnerable in her need to be near Lexa—to feel safe and connected—as often as possible.

Lexa can’t say for sure if they will always be so desperate for each other’s company, if small fractions of time spent apart will continue to breed an urgency for reuniting. She has been in enough relationships to know that attachments usually fade and the needs of each person most often change over time.

Still, something tells her that when it comes to this relationship, Clarke will break the mold of every truth Lexa has previously known.

“The point is: I’m not going anywhere,” Lexa tells her, and Clarke looks up at her with a renewed smile. “Although, you’re still not getting this shirt back.”

Clarke kisses the underside of her jaw and tightens the hold she has around her waist. “You can keep all of my shirts as long as I get to keep you.”

“Deal,” Lexa answers, finally leading them out of the office.

Lincoln will roast her for having taken an exorbitant amount of time to deliver Clarke’s coffee, but having Clarke hugged against her side, Lexa finds she doesn’t exactly care.

:::

In an hour’s time Lexa has been fed no less than six times—small plates of food from the kitchen’s rotating menu like an assembly line in front of her and Lincoln—and an empty beer glass is no sooner bussed than another full one appears. As it turns out, dating a bar manager and sustaining a lifelong friendship with her business partner’s fiancé is a pretty good gig for libations and keeping well fed. By 8:00, she’s not necessarily sober, but the continuous parade of appetizers that Octavia and Clarke slide in front of Lexa and Lincoln keep her from tipping over the edge into properly drunk.

“This one is my favorite.”

“You’ve said that about the last three.”

Lincoln crunches into his charred nopales and street corn tostada as if to be sure. “Nope. This is the one.”

Lexa smiles around a second bite of her Korean short ribs and savors the balanced marinade—a perfect blend of smoky sweetness and tangy spice.

She is washing it down with a saison from Rhode Island as Octavia swings out of the kitchen and approaches their end of the bar.

“How good is that corn?”

“The whole thing is amazing,” Lincoln tells her.

Octavia swipes an avocado off his plate without hesitation. “What about the Kalbi?”

It sounds conversational, the way that Octavia, as a friend, is asking Lexa about her meal. But, in spending the past year of her life in proximal relation to her, Lexa has determined that, in some capacity, Octavia is actually always working.

“These are easily some of the best short ribs I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah,” Octavia grins. “I’m obsessed with them. Jane has been on staff for less than two months, and she’s already killing it back there.”

“Be sure to extend my compliments to the chef. Beer is incredible, too,” Lexa adds.

“What did Clarke bring you this time? The Foolproof?”

“Their farmhouse, yeah.” Lexa’s attention is drawn to the kitchen doorway again as Clarke exits carrying plates of food. She doesn’t glance in their direction as she drops the plates farther down the bar, but her smile is warm and bright, and Lexa can’t look away.

There’s a generous crowd strung along the bar counter, plus a few of the nearby tables that keep rotating with guests who stay for a drink or two before heading off into the night. Clarke is engaging with the three men who have just received their plates of food, and Lexa’s ears attune to the friendly pitch of her voice while Octavia and Lincoln momentarily hold their own conversation.

Lexa sips her saison and enjoys the way Clarke handles herself in conversation—confident, approachable, friendly, but with a distant professionalism. It’s not until she registers the distinct tone of patriarchal arrogance coming from a few of Clarke’s guests that Lexa realizes Octavia and Lincoln have also clued into the nearby exchange.

From what Lexa can gather, over the din of other surrounding patrons, the men are attempting to challenge the accuracy of Clarke’s knowledge on one of Dockside’s pours. Clearly first-time patrons, to these men, Clarke is easily mistaken as the beautiful bartender in a nice dress with a friendly demeanor who pours their pints and delivers their food. They would never suspect that she is also the unassuming curator of every beer offered within the establishment and a well-read expert in the field of craft brewing.

If she didn’t find misogynistic biases against women in male-dominated fields to be nauseatingly unforgivable, Lexa would almost feel bad for what these guys have coming to them.

“This should be good,” Lincoln mutters with a deviant smile, and Lexa flicks her gaze to find Octavia looking half-amused, half-poised for lethal intervention.

In short, Clarke absolutely eviscerates the men’s inflated egos by seamlessly rattling off a short history on the brewery in question, explaining their evolution of kettle sours and dry-hopped IPAs with thrilling precision, all while maintaining her hospitable smile. The cohort of sexist men are left silenced and stunned as Clarke moves on to tend to the rest of the bar, leaving their gaping jaws in her wake.

“What a bunch of fucking morons,” Octavia grumbles with an eye roll just before another table of guests catches her attention and she is pulled away.

“I love it when she does that,” Lexa says, smiling in Lincoln’s direction.

“It is really gratifying to watch someone’s fragile masculinity skillfully shattered,” he agrees with a satisfied smile. “I’ll never understand it, that intrinsic need to be an expert on everything, but it’s entertaining as hell to see O and Clarke flex on these random assholes who waltz in here and mistakenly try to out-beer them.”

Lexa's smile widens as she and Lincoln clink their beer glasses together. “It really is.”

:::

“One strand of lights.”

“No.”

“A single banner. A classy one.”

“No.”

“Candles. Come on, O, no one can say no to candles.”

“Watch me.” Octavia, who up until this point had been withholding eye contact, gives Clarke a pointed glare. “No.”

Lexa smiles at Clarke’s frustrated groan while sipping her glass of water. Three-and-a-half pints of beer and countless plates of food have left her feeling fully satisfied if not also ready for bed. Clarke won’t close the bar for another few hours, and though Lexa acknowledges this is the reality of their chosen professions, she also wishes to steal Clarke away and take her home for a cuddle.  

“Think about Lincoln,” Clarke continues, beating her dead wedding horse, much to Octavia’s dismay. “You’re depriving him of this fanfare, this pizazz, this well-deserved—”

“Don’t drag him into this,” Octavia interjects.

Clarke’s jaw drops. “He’s literally one half of the reason we’re celebrating! And honestly, with how difficult you’re being about this whole thing, it might be more like 70/30.”

Octavia rolls her eyes and starts to walk away, busying herself with clearing empty glasses from a table whose guests have just vacated. “When you two leave, will you take her with you?”

Her voice carries across the now mostly empty bar, and Clarke scowls at Octavia from where Lexa and Lincoln sit at the far end of the counter. They often lay claim to this section of the bar during their Wednesday night visits, and it always feels like a sacred, little huddle.

“That’s a tempting offer,” Lexa answers as Octavia breezes past them to deposit the empty glasses into her bus tub behind the bar.

Her comment successfully erases the look on Clarke’s face as their eyes meet, and she watches Clarke’s frown melt into a dopey smile.

“I’m not leaving you to close by yourself. Stop being so dramatic,” Clarke admonishes, though she is still smiling as her eyes leave Lexa to look over her shoulder at Octavia.

“I’m not by myself,” Octavia grunts, hoisting her black bin of glassware and dirty plates off a low shelf. “Jane and Murph are in the back. Take the orders home and finish them there. You know the last two hours of the night are the slowest midweek. I’ll be fine.”

“Stop trying to get rid of me just because you’re throwing a fit about candles,” Clarke shouts after her even though Octavia has already pushed through into the kitchen.

Their small end of the bar counter temporarily swells with music blaring from the line cooks and back-of-house staff, a stark contrast to the lo-fi hip hop Clarke has playing on a lower volume in the main room.

“I should get home either way,” Lexa admits with a short stretch of her arms, pulling taut the muscles of her back. “You fed me too well, and now I’m sleepy.”

“You’re a grandma every night of the week—in bed before ten or cranky as hell the next day.”

Lexa furrows her brow at Clarke’s unnecessarily accurate depiction of her sleep routines, but Lincoln laughs openly while nudging her shoulder.

“This one’s never been able to burn the midnight oil. Needs that beauty rest to maintain her cheerful disposition.”

“I’m officially breaking up with both of you.”

“Hey.”

Clarke’s pout is back, the color of her eyes saturated in renewed hurt at Lexa’s bad joke. Three-and-a-half beers have also made her forgetful, apparently.

“Sorry, sorry.” She reaches for Clarke’s wrists across the glossed wood of the bar and is gently rubbing her thumbs across Clarke’s pulse points when Octavia reemerges. “Just Lincoln then.”

Lincoln offers a good-natured shrug. “That’s fair.”

“See?” Octavia eyes the affectionate gesture between Clarke and Lexa with a practiced look of exasperation. “You could be doing this loved up shit in the privacy of your own home.”

“Says the one who is about to profess her undying love and commitment publicly in front of all our closest friends,” Clarke argues.

“I feel like if you keep reminding her, she’s more likely to back out,” Lincoln muses, and Lexa wonders if he is only half kidding.

Octavia pins him with a look. “Never.”

It’s a charged moment just for them, despite the fact that Clarke and Lexa are caught in its crosshairs, Lincoln grinning as he catches Octavia’s crooked smirk.

“I really should go,” Lexa reiterates quietly, not wanting to interrupt. Her day will start early the following morning with a delivery just south of Boston, and traffic will be nauseating through Sumner Tunnel. “Are you sure you don’t—”

“Seriously, get her out of here,” Octavia interjects. “She overworks and stays late out of guilt and loyalty, and it’s entirely unnecessary.”

“Keep insisting, and I’m gonna say yes,” Clarke shoots back, almost threatening if not for her smile.

“Good. Then you can stop badgering me about fucking tea lights.” Octavia flicks the side of Clarke’s head and smacks her ass as she passes by to clear more tables, and somehow Clarke is charmed by the violent affection.

“I’ll stay and keep her company,” Lincoln offers. “You guys should take off. Enjoy the early night.” He then leans in closely to them both, his head bent in conspiracy. “And, I really do like those paper lanterns that you guys string up on the deck sometimes.”

The way Clarke’s entire countenance glows, eyes sparkling in victorious mischief, has Lexa’s smile growing in kind.

“I. Love you. You wonderful, wonderful human.” Clarke places her hands affectionately on either side of Lincoln’s face and looks as if she might actually plant a kiss between his eyebrows. “I will not let you down or betray your confidence.” Her tone is gravely solemn as if they are alluding to something far more serious than wedding decor.

“Give me a second to gather my things from the office?” she then says to Lexa, her voice shifting to that delicate timbre that turns Lexa’s beating heart to a useless puddle.

She tells her, “Take all the time you need.”

“I’ll be quick.” Clarke reaches for her fingers, giving them a quick squeeze, and disappears into the back hallway.

“Did I mention we did very well, ending up with these two?”

Lexa looks over to catch Lincoln’s giant grin and feels her own lips stretching into a smile. “I’m proud of us.”

Lincoln very nearly giggles. “Me too.”

A beat or two of amicable silence passes between them, in which time Octavia has returned behind the bar to tend to her few, straggling guests.

“What are the chances Clarke already has a shitload of decorations she’s been stockpiling for this party?” Lincoln contemplates aloud.

Lexa’s response comes without hesitation.

“Oh yeah, without question.”

:::

[strawberryw1ne]

an - mmm mommy issues kuroo. i took this titbit of (i think its canon) and ran FAR. this was supposed to be short but im a sadist and i love this concept. mwah.

cw - vomit, blood

wc 860

kuroo was raised not to believe in love - of any kind. he buried himself in science and understanding so he knew everything there was to know about how love is just chemicals, how you can force love, how love is not special. if you asked him, he would never admit to loving the science, either. there is no such thing as love, he told people like a broken record when they asked him. just chemical reactions and hormones. 

why would there be a reason to believe in love with a childhood like his? if love is real, the only love kuroo knows is slammed doors and broken glasses and bruised wrists and loud arguments and screaming. crying until his throat bleeds and he’s vomiting crimson into a shoebox under his bed because god, he’s too scared to get caught between their arguing again. 

the only love kuroo knows is custody battles and his father’s hand on his shoulder as he watches the woman who’s supposed to love him endlessly walk away, wobbling on high heels. his last memory of his mother is bittersweet - a deadfaced goodbye from the front doorstep, a box of her things under one arm and a fancy leather handbag under the other. 

his loveless childhood only birthed a ruthless man, with no dreams but to show the mother he can’t help but love what she left behind. captain of the volleyball team, but no matter how many emails and letters and phone calls (she never answered, but he hoped she listened to the messages he left), he never saw her face in the stands. how stupid he feels, eighteen years old and still fighting for the attention of his mother. love isn’t real - so why does he want to feel it from her? 

and when he went to university there was no congratulations, no phone call, no card, no visit, not even a text message. 

but there was you. in the back of the lecture hall with your soft face and gentle eyes, and that parental warmth you had despite the childish giggles he could pull from you so easily. 

you became so normal to him - saving seats in the back of lectures, studying in the library, buying spare coffee to bring to early-morning classes because he knew you always woke up late and forgot, even the way you said his name started to sound as natural and comfortable to him as the sound of his own breathing. you were routine, and you were easy to keep track of. it was comfortable and different to the fight for attention and affection he’d faced growing up. 

his friends teased him, said their old hard captain had gone soft. suggested that maybe the pessimistic disbeliever had finally found his chemical reaction. that the unloveable kuroo tetsurou had, maybe, found someone to love. 

it was only after a conversation with yaku that kuroo saw it too. from the moment his old friend had pointed out the way he looked at you, kuroo was catching himself doing the strangest things. texting you every hour of the day, getting your coffee order spot-on every time, without having to text you and ask what you wanted. he caught himself staring, more and more as time passed by. 

love isn’t real. if it does exist, it only ends a bloody throat and a deadfaced goodbye and nine subsequent years vying for a tiny, tiny bit of attention. he thinks of the shoebox that lived under his bed for three years until his mother left, and he decides it’s best for you and for him if it ends now, before a schoolboy crush ends in a chemical reaction. 

maybe it would have been easier if he’d just never introduced himself to you in the first place. ignoring you was agony, every minute of it. the first week after he stopped replying, you stopped coming to class. when you came back, you came in every morning with red eyes and bruised cheeks, picking at the skin of your hands across the room, far away from him. he had to stop himself from coming to sit by you, swallow the apologies on his tongue. love isn’t real. 

a month passed and you looked a lot happier without him. you’d found a new friend in the class - another guy, tall, blonde, handsome. kuroo had never met him, but he found himself hoping he got into a car accident. 

it wasn’t until one of your friends found him on campus, anger pouring from her skin as she demanded he talk to you again, that he realised he wasn’t saving either of you from inevitable heartbreak. he was just doing what his mother had done to him when he was a kid. the thought made him ill, head spinning and stomach emptying. 

he was lucky. so lucky, that you were so quick to forgive him, so understanding, so damn kind. he was sure he didn’t deserve you - not as a friend, not as a lover. 

kuroo was raised not to believe in love. he believed in chemical reactions and hormones and you, instead. 

[sepublic]

Ideas for a Blight Twins Episode

          Continuing off of some ideas from a previous ask;

           Jerbo and Edric isn’t a very popular ship (not disliked, just not widespread), and I know there’s no canon basis whatsoever for Vinira, alas... But I really do like the idea of Edric learning to be his own person, apart from Emira, WITHOUT necessarily finding this through romantic love? It’d be a way of showing that other forms of love are perfectly valid… And it kind of reminds of some of those aroace headcanons I saw for Ed, a while back!

           Maybe it could even tie into his insecurity of not wanting to be alone… Thinking that because he’s aroace, he’s somehow unlovable, and incapable of feeling loved; And his clinginess is a desperate way to avert this view of himself and his identity! So having Edric find meaning and identity by hanging out with, say, Lilith, Luz, and King… I think it’d be a great way for him to learn that not only is romance not required to ‘be your own person’, that you’re not somehow less grown up for not being in love… It’d also make him finally getting a ‘pet’ for himself more meaningful, too!

           (And I see Edric as a kid at heart who never really got to be himself and had to grow up fast, and even as a rebel he still doesn’t let himself relax.)

           And Edric is able to find solace in multiple different relationships at once, instead of clinging extremely to the one he has with Emira… Relationships with different meanings, with Lilith being a surrogate mother, Luz being a regular friend/sister-in-law, and King… Well, I’m not sure WHAT King is, a little brother? Regardless, it’d really expand Edric’s horizons and allow him to experience ‘love’ in a different way that isn’t necessarily related to just being a blood sibling… Which could alleviate his concerns about never having a bond as close as his with Emira.

           THAT could then tie to Edric realizing and understanding Emira’s desire to be her own person more… As for Emira and any interactions with Viney, she might simply recognize how Viney and the other Detention Kids found solace through solidarity and shared similarities, and interactions; But still manage to be their own people! Though, they aren’t siblings, so there might be more of a desire to meet someone who can make it clear to Em that, no, you aren’t going to lose your identity by being close with your sibling…. Again, this ties back to my idea of Eda being a good mentor to Emira as well.

          At the very least, being around Viney, Jerbo, and Edric, who are understandably more sensitive, could lead Emira to being a lot more mindful and understanding of how others feel, and not necessarily steamrolling over that like her mother Odalia would… THAT could translate to her paying attention to Edric’s concerns and at least respecting them, instead of just casually throwing them to the side; Even if she still disagrees, at least she considered his side of the story first!

           Emira is someone who got defensive, in her attempts to be ‘herself’, by feeling like she had to push Edric away and become closed-off… When Edric suggests discussing their worst fears, Emira looks away as she says something that shuts him down- Even if it WAS likely honest, she low-key discouraged any further openness between the two at that point. And while it’s important for Emira to be her own person… Perhaps by opening up to Viney and the others, she could realize she’s still her own person, and better able to appreciate that- Especially since Emira opening up allows herself to be, well, herself around Viney, instead of just the confident mask she’s put up as a charming Blight!

           And because the twins are more honest and open with each other… It could lead to them being even closer, as again- They no longer fear having to hide or suppress parts of themselves, in fear of jeopardizing their conformity (which they mistake as synonymous with their bond), and in turn, they can enjoy one another while being happier individuals… And NOT worry about losing themselves in the process, because they know who they are, they know the other twin respects that, and they have other connections as well!

           …Legit, I have to wonder how Amity would react to all of this. If she may feel obligated to step in, or just stand back and let the Twins figure themselves out… Obviously she’d CARE for the two and be concerned. But at the same time, they ARE closer to one another than Amity… And I can see Amity being afraid of either twin singling her out as a new sibling-bond to form in the absence of their other one, for Emira to get away from Edric’s in her case, and Edric to replace the one he can’t back with Emira. Maybe it could lead to either twin trying to be more appealing to Amity, being less themselves to get her approval; And Amity, who initially may find it amusing, quickly shuts them down because she sees herself in them… And she does NOT want to make others feel obligated to change themselves for her approval, because they feel like they have nobody else!

           Which, that’d likely lead to Amity either participating in encouraging either sibling to mature, to grow… But given how she’s got her own issues, more than likely she’d recognize that it’d be mutually health for them both to split off for now. At the very least, she doesn’t want to risk taking advantage of Emira or Edric… And either twin might feel disgruntled at Amity, but then remember they were also cruel to her in the past ‘for her own good’, but on the other hand, THAT hadn’t been for her own good after all- So who was to say that Amity was correct, pushing away the other twin and not accepting their friendship (laced with dependency) ‘for their own good’?

           Regardless- It’d probably make Amity feel worse if one twin, or both, began to depend on her. She already feels like she has to conform to what her parents expect of her, what Boscha and the others expect of her as the top student… So it’d just put more pressure on Amity to take care of others, VS herself; Especially since she admittedly is not responsible for Emira and Edric’s identity issues this time, unlike with Willow. Plus, she may not be in the right mindset to help them either, as she’s still figuring herself out with Luz…

           Not to mention, Emira and Edric may or may not have reservations about having to depend on their own little sister for help; And they might be too aghast at forcing Amity to take care of the other. Maybe they wouldn’t want to keep bothering her after everything else, after seeing how much they already hurt Amity, who tried to be both like AND unlike them, paradoxically, at the same time (tried to have the same talent but not be a rebel). There might be the insecurity from Ed and Em both that as lonely individual who barely have their own identity, they might just screw over Amity further… Amidst some pride and shame at being seen like in front of their little sister.

           Though, I can ALSO imagine a hilarious scenario where Emira and Edric viciously compete for Amity’s affection, offering incentives and favors, maybe aggressively downplaying the other and holding a bit of a grudge… Until for her own health, Amity tells them to STOP, and leave her alone and figure their own issues out, on their own- Or with literally anyone else!

           I can totally see them going to Luz for help, though… Or again, maybe not- They might see Luz as too cool for them by this point, since Emira and Edric DO seem legitimately fond of Luz, as someone who is likely their only friend outside of the family, and the only person who actively reciprocated friendship with them and wanted to earn approval! Emira and Edric might feel obligated to still be those too-cool-for-school twins, so they may avoid telling Luz about their own problems to ‘live up to her expectations’, afraid Luz would no longer like them as much for being so ‘pathetic’… When in reality, Luz likes the twins as whoever they are, whoever they choose to be! She’s interested in getting to knowthem, whether or not that identity matches the façade the Twins have put up or not; It makes no difference to her.

           Still, I can see Emira and Edric trying to start ‘fresh’ with a total stranger… But as I said before, Edric isn’t identical to Emira and vice-versa. So ultimately, while I think Emira would have more of those reservations about opening up to Luz, as I mentioned earlier; Edric is someone who’d just want companionship, and thus be more liable to others’ opinions for approval. In this scenario, this could be good for him, as then Edric would be more receptive to genuine, positive feedback from Luz… as well as Lilith, etc.

           Like, I’m just imagining a hypothetical episode of the Blight Twins doing some soul-searching, beginning with the separation and following Emira and HER misadventures with Viney… Emira assumes it’ll be oh-so-easy, that she can rely on that charm and confidence and just that, no being open or honest and vulnerable… Which then leads into that fan concept of Emira trying to connect with Viney, but because Em refuses to be up-front about her feelings because she thinks she has to be ‘cool’ to get affection from a stranger, Viney just thinks the girl is out to murder her!

          Emira gets more and more frustrated, ends up accidentally tormenting Viney while Jerbo and Barcus are forced to defend her… And eventually Luz or somebody else, maybe Willow, just throws in their two cents and tells Emira to be straight-forward; Exactly like that ‘Stop lying, stop manipulating, just be nicer’ meme, and Emira is just utterly lost and baffled; But she finally obliges and it works out! And after experiencing happy, formulating relationships, Emira appreciates Edric’s concerns more, and then wonders what happened to him and how he’s doing…?

          And then once THAT ends, we immediately cut to see what Edric was doing; And how alone and dejected after she basically ‘ditched’ him, we have a humorous montage of Edric wandering Bonesborough like a traveling vagrant without a home, connections, or identity…Even though he’s not, but he’s being dramatic! And as he sits by himself alone, he ends up picking up a pet or two that he befriends, because it just strolls up to him and sits down besides Edric in mutual solidarity, as he starts talking to it… Openly appreciating the company, and then maybe projecting some of his own insecurities regarding him and Emira.

          Then maybe the ‘pet’ leaves him by that point, and Edric starts crying out in abandonment! A mean yet hilarious wake-up moment, perhaps alluding to Edric pushing people away for being too clingy and projecting his needs onto them. Maybe Ed DOES find a proper pet, then or later…! Either way, his wandering leads him to the Owl House- Either he sees Eda and the others selling stuff and follows them, he just ends up there on his own, or he deliberates on his other connections, dismissing going to Mittens as ‘too desperate’, even for him; And then he brightens up and remembers Luz, remembers how she always makes people happy, including Mittens of all people! If Luz can help Amity, she can help Edric… And somewhere along the way, Edric is surprised to find himself valuing an unexpected bond with Lilith, and maybe the other Owl House residents as well!

           Certainly not Hooty, though, even if him and Edric may share issues of being ‘desperate’ for companionship. Hooty is a freaking war criminal. Actually… perhaps like Eda in Episode 9, talking to Hooty will help Edric realize where he messed up, and/or come to an epiphany of what he might become, or do to others! In turn, he appreciates Emira’s decision more… Maybe Ed bolts off, understanding how Emira may have viewed him, but he also still needs to figure out how to value himself, and Emira’s desires VS Emira just not wanting to be with someone so ‘desperate’, as it leads to Edric thinking he needs to be more confident just to win back his sister. Either way, Hooty is left in the dust mid-sentence, RIP. Maybe Edric even narrates his realization aloud, ending on him declaring that he doesn’t want to be like Hooty, right to Hooty’s accursed face!

           As Edric gets along with everyone, maybe he picks up a pet, possibly with Viney’s help… And he learns to respect wild animals as their own creatures with their own lives, and not just toys for him to kidnap and take into his own possession! Edric respects the autonomy of these animals, that they don’t owe him anything and he can’t just force a bond… And like with Emira, he better understands how his sibling felt!

          The two meet again, talk awkwardly, mention to their individual journeys in passing, possibly with the others watching- And they have a tearful reunion hug! Maybe Amity even joins in, because why not- She’s happy to see her older siblings healing like Luz did for her, and this could make all three Blight kids better with one another. Of course, Ed and Em ‘ruin’ the moment by teasing Amity but messing with her, but in the end everybody is happy, and Luz does that ugly-crying face from the end of Understanding Willow, reveling in and appreciating wholesomeness.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Can we have Joanne dead though? Without having to resurrect that bastard of a tree branch?

Also, from Anon:  I want them both safely buried thank you very much

While Jo doesn’t get a comeuppance, not really - not everything wraps up in  bow in Chris’s story - she does, in a way. 

Tristan - as Chris - ends up living a much better and happier life than she could ever have imagined or wanted him to live. And is capable of all of the things she told him he would never be capable of. He’s incredibly smart, when she told him he was stupid. With support, therapy, and the help of carefully dosed medication, he does exceptionally well on his GED and has an excellent GPA in college. He will, at some point, graduate and find fulfilling work he loves with a local theater group, and volunteer to help teach a class on set-building and acting for neurodivergent kids, and he gets to see the way they are floored by seeing him be freely himself around people without feeling like he has to hide it any longer.

(I have this in a loosely plotted WIP, by the way, just some sketched concepts of the kids seeing him get exciting news and start flapping his hands and spinning in excitement and how everyone around him reacts with happiness on his behalf rather than trying to get him to stop)

He is charismatic and social and cheerful when she declared him withdrawn and irritable. He finds love, in the world, when she declared him unlovable. He is formally adopted by someone who has been arrested, and hurt, and interrogated, and still come home to him, because he promised he would. Laken learns all the darkest parts of him that he is most ashamed and scared of, and chooses to love all of him, anyway.

He ends up with the devoted family, and she, in the end, has no one but herself.

The adult he becomes is someone his mother and father would have been immensely, intensely, and fiercely proud of. 

[aion-rsa]

Why the Harry Potter Film Epilogue Never Stood a Chance

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

After seven books, eight films, a theme park, and the creation of a veritable merchandising empire, you can hardly blame the Harry Potter production team for wanting to go out on a high note with the final installment of the beloved film franchise. But one final mountain loomed ominously before Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part II could wrap: the dreaded epilogue. 

This “19 years later” segment closes the final Harry Potter book with Harry and company at King’s Cross, sending their own children to Hogwarts. In theory, it provides closure, a happy ending for Harry, and the satisfaction of continuity with another generation of witches and wizards off to school. In practice, it was an absolute beast to film. For one, no one knew the best approach to handle the hair or the makeup required to age the 20-something cast into believable 39-year-old parents of 11-year-olds. 

They filmed it once, and even the hair and makeup people on the crew admit that they went too far, giving Ron a potbelly, jowls, and a badly receding hairline. (Rupert Grint himself said of the initial cut: “The images of me still haunt me.”) When photos from the original epilogue leaked, there was an immediate fan reaction, and it was not positive. Months after shooting had wrapped, the main cast was hastily called back for reshoots, this time with a simpler, more low-key visual aesthetic. The production team was evidently satisfied that they had done their best, and this was the version that made it into the final cut of the film.

The scene is fairly simple. The golden trio reunite at King’s Cross to see their children off on the Hogwarts Express. Harry’s youngest son, Albus, is anxious that he will be placed in Slytherin, and Harry comforts him, reminding Albus that one of his namesakes was in Slytherin and still a brave man. And, besides, the Sorting Hat takes your own preferences into consideration before placing you into a house. The kids get on the train, their parents tearfully watch them leave, and one would believe that all is sunny in their world, mostly because Rowling tells us so.

It doesn’t work on screen. But it isn’t the hair or the makeup departments’ fault. Indeed, there probably isn’t anything the production team could have done, other than to acknowledge that the scene shouldn’t be included at all. The issues with the epilogue go much deeper than bad aging makeup or weird hair. It’s not the execution of the scene but rather the scene itself that doesn’t work. After building an entire magical world from scratch, J.K. Rowling boxes the characters into a rigidly conservative future, fundamentally misunderstanding and actively eschewing the logical path she herself has put the characters on through their adolescence.

The logical closure point of the story is the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, and Rowling herself has admitted in an interview that the main reason she was so keen to include the epilogue had nothing to do with the main cast of characters, but instead because she was eager that readers know that poor, orphaned Teddy Lupin, son of Remus and Tonks, would be okay in the end. That sentimental instinct would ultimately undermine the growth of each of her lead characters.

Let’s review. On the surface, this epilogue is positioned as Harry Potter’s ultimate happy ending. The boy who grew up alone and unloved now has a warm, tight-knit family of his own (and as if that wasn’t enough, his two best friends are conveniently part of that biological family!) But it’s important to remember that Harry spends the entire series utterly burdened by the past. The most important event of his young life happens at its very beginning, when he survives the curse from Lord Voldemort. Throughout the books and movies, he is constantly looking backward: poring over old photographs of his parents, physically exploring memories from their time at Hogwarts, ruminating on the life and history of Tom Riddle. In one of the later books, he’s given the opportunity to have career counseling with Professor McGonagall, and he’s completely nonplussed: the idea of life after the urgency of his battle against Voldemort scarcely seems to have occurred to him. 

There’s never an opportunity to face the future; it’s always about resolving the issues of the past. And although in this epilogue he is, literally, in the future, it nonetheless reveals that he’s never stopped being beholden to the past. The proof is in his children’s names: James Sirius, Albus Severus, Lily Luna. With the exception of Luna, he’s used his sons and daughter to serve as a living mausoleum for the long-dead. The only conversation we hear from Harry to his son Albus is one of legacy, honoring the memory of old mentors. Rowling clearly intends this vision of Harry to be a positive one, but it comes across as sad more than anything else: he’s still as weighed down by the past as ever.

Then we come to Ron and Hermione, their relationship a letdown for him and a tragedy for her. Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age, intelligent and fiercely ambitious, is still with her high school boyfriend who has never quite appreciated her properly. Ron is smart in his own way, but not in the same way that Hermione is, and she’s set herself up for a lifetime of never being intellectually stimulated by her husband. They make sense as a teenage flirtation, close friends who edge the line between companionship and romance, but it’s hard to imagine an adult relationship between the two of them where Hermione isn’t unfulfilled and Ron hopelessly insecure. 

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

And finally, there’s Ginny, who is betrayed perhaps most of all. Her character is one of the biggest surprises of the series, as she emerges from the non-entity status as Ron’s little sister into a person in her own right, one who is funny and powerful and utterly self-confident. Constantly underestimated by everyone, she does things in her own way, and unlike many big screen love interests, seems to have a life that doesn’t solely revolve around her boyfriend. But then she turns up in the epilogue, and it’s almost like she’s been lobotomized. Resplendent with aggressively awful mom hair, she walks a pace behind her husband and smiles wanly, without ever saying a word. Firecracker Ginny, who once boldly took her hypocritical brother to task for trying to slut shame her, is turned into human wallpaper. In the Harry Potter epilogue, JK Rowling’s tendency to cling stubbornly to “traditional” cultural norms, a tendency that has developed into vocal transphobic behavior in recent years, is fully exposed. She does a disservice to her characters, seemingly because she can’t imagine a happier ending for them than being in a heterosexual marriage to their high school sweetheart, dropping the kids off at school. After an entire series of magical hijinks and found family, this reversion to normalcy comes across as utterly disheartening. When we look at Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part II, it’s easy to blame production issues for why the epilogue underwhelms. But the truth is, it doesn’t work because it tries too hard to fit Rowling’s rigid definition of a happy ending, without consideration for the logical trajectory of the characters. A decade later, it’s one of the major narrative failures of the impressively adapted film series.

The post Why the Harry Potter Film Epilogue Never Stood a Chance appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3ekCL0I

[happykawa]

[ lukewarm ] k.t

This is my first kags fic so bear with me, pls?

The raindrops tatter against the glass windows. It makes for a picturesque scene. Across the street, one could spot a couple. The taller person covers the smaller one with their considerably large jacket as they make their way towards cover from the storm.

You sigh and look down on your phone once more.

7:30 pm

More than an hour past when he’d said he’d be there. What’s even worse is that you’re not even surprised, just disappointed. And you hate it.

You hate that you don’t expect him to come anymore. You hate that this has already become the norm, the routine. 

You stand up, and waste one lasting glance on the cup of yogurt that was once in front of you. It’s lukewarm.

‘What a waste.’

The drive back home was silent. You didn’t feel like playing some music, afraid that it would draw unwanted emotions out. You couldn’t deal with them then, not yet. Those emotions are reserved for the comfort of your bed, and occasionally the kitchen floor.

You go through the mechanical motions of fetching your keys and unlocking your apartment. Before you know it, you’ve plowed through your nightly routine. 

You head to the kitchen and start cooking. The silence is deafening, so once you hear the sizzle of liquid on the pan, you feel relieved. At least you’re sure you’re not deaf.

You plate the pork curry beautifully, topping it off with an egg. The vegetables on the side should compliment it, Google said so. For a job done on auto-pilot, you’d say you did a damn good one. 

You sit across the plate, mindlessly scrolling through your phone. You sit there for about five minutes before you put it down and run a hand through your hair.

“What am I doing??” You think to yourself out loud.

You chuckle. “What were you expecting, [Y/N]?”

What were you expecting? That, for once in two weeks, he’d come home early? That he’d some other excuse as to why he stood you up, again, besides volleyball? 

You lean your elbows on the table and take your face into your hands. “I’m such a fucking mess.”

You’ve known what you need to do for the past 3 months now. But each time you think you have the courage to go through with it, something happens that just makes that courage disappear. 

The first time was because he’d apologised so profusely. And he did make it up to you the next day. And the next. And that was it. 

The second time was the same thing.

The third time he was in a really bad place, and you weren’t about to leave him then and there. He needed you, and you loved him, still do, so you couldn’t bear the thought of it.

The fourth time was the worst. It was his first time as a starter, and they’d won the game in straight sets. You watched the whole of it and once he won, he ran straight to you, lifting you off your feet and kissing you. 

That night was one of the best sex you’ve ever had. And the only one you’ve had in the past 3 months.

But the worst part of it wasn’t that, it was his smile. That damn smile. The smile that said ‘I’m so fucking happy but I’m even happier because you’re here.’.

That smile.

That was a month ago.

You feel yourself smile at that memory. Suddenly, you feel your hands moisten. 

No, not moisten, they’re wet.

You’re crying.

Crying because you were so happy then. Crying because you’re so proud of him, so happy for him. Crying because you know what you need to do. Crying because what you need to do is let go of the most important man in your life.

You had to let him go because as you both are now, you’re just holding each other back. Because he doesn’t need you anymore. Because you need to explore things on your own. Because you’re tired of being the only one who succeeds in making an effort. Because you’re tired of being in a relationship that feels so stagnant. Because you’re tired of feeling unloved.

You could list a thousand more reasons, and you could list a thousand more as to how you could solve the problem without letting him go, save for one. 

Because for all the reasons that you love him, not a single one can justify losing your life, losing your self because of him.

You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if you let that happen. 

You refuse to let the man you love turn into the man who ruined you.

You realised this 3 months ago. You had gotten an offer from a huge publishing company as an executive editor in Osaka, but the salary was lower.

Naturally, you turned it down, as if by instinct.

What scared you was that the first thought that came into your mind wasn’t, “Oh the salary is lower,”, it was, “Oh, that’s too far from Tobio. No can do.”.

You were terrified that day. You were losing your self in the relationship, in him. You realised that this wasn’t the first time it happened. Granted, the job offers you got weren’t exactly better than the job you have right now, but that wasn’t the first reason that came into your mind. The first reason was always surrounding Tobio.

You hear the door open and the shuffling of feet. You quickly wipe your tears on your sweater, however futile. If the man could notice his opponent’s tells just by a few rounds, he could certainly notice how red your eyes and nose are.

You hear Tobio walk towards you, his steps suddenly come faster when he notices you sniffling.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” He kneels to eye-level as he gently pries your hands from your red face.

Your first instinct is smile, shake your head, and say it’s just something you watched on the internet.

“Nothing’s wrong, nothing happened.” You send him a small, gentle smile. Your sore eyes complain nonetheless. “But Tobio, we need to talk.”

Tobio’s face is blank, worry gone as the words leave your mouth. He nods as he sits across you, pushing the food you prepared for him aside. It smelled so good, but devouring it would have to wait. 

You take his hands in yours, and you will your tears back. No, not now, not yet.

You look him in the eyes. “Tobio, you know I love you right. I love you, and I always will. I don’t think I have a choice, anyway.” You laugh lightly, and his eyes often.

“I love you too.” He replies seriously. You know it’s not easy for him to say, and you know he means every word of it. And it breaks your heart knowing what you’re going to say next.

“But I think, I think we should go our separate ways.” You whisper before biting down on your lip as hard as you could. You could feel Tobio’s previously warm hands drop at least a few degrees in temperature.

Tobio tries to put on a blank face, but you see through his feeble mask. He’s hurt. And your instinct screams that you should go over to him, hug him, tell him it’s a prank. But you brain conquers it.

“Can I ask why?” He whispers loud enough for you to hear. You know that voice. He’s trying not to cry, so he doesn’t trust himself to speak loudly, if at all. “You just said you love me, so I’m guessing it’s not that.” He mutters, more to himself than you.

“Tobio, this relationship–this–this–” You fumble for words to say, everything you prepared just going down the drain. “Us. We’re just... so... stagnant. A relationship should be two people helping each other, loving each other. Not two people who’ve barely spoken in 3 months, who haven’t had a date in so long, who are doing nothing for each other. Because Tobio, if we aren’t there for each other, then what are we doing?”

You know you’re taking a roundabout route. You didn’t tell him the real reason, and you don’t want to because you know it’ll hurt him. It’ll hurt him to know that he made you feel that way. He’ll feel like it’s all his fault, which it isn’t. You were partially to blame to, for letting it come to this point.

“So this is about me, and volleyball?” He asks and furrows his brows.

At this point, you can’t look him in the eye without telling him the truth. So you settle for his beautifully manicured hands instead. 

“Well–no–I mean, yes, I–” You fumble around for the right words, unsure which ones will make you more believable.

Tobio sighs quietly. “You’re not the only one who can read people here, [Y/N]. It’s part of my job too, and even if it weren’t, we’ve been together for 2 years. I know you’re lying. And frankly I’m both insulted and hurt that you feel the need to lie to me. So would you please just tell me the truth? So you know, we can fix it?”

You can’t help but smile. Yeah, you forgot. You’ve been together for 2 years. 2 very happy years. It’s almost enough to make you forget your situation. Almost.

Your smile drops, and you feel the tears welling up again. The whole weight of what you’re going to do is laid upon your shoulder once more.

You struggle to find your voice. You can only muster up a small voice, almost a whisper, without crying. 

“I wasn’t lying, with what I said. But–who am I kidding? We could’ve worked around it. Volleyball, our schedules, we could try harder...” You run your hand through your hair. It’s true. You could work through it. But at what cost?

“But what would it cost us, Tobi? I can’t make you give up volleyball. You’d be losing yourself–”

You take a deep breath.

“–just like I am... I’m losing myself in this relationship, in us.”

He freezes.

When you said that you thought you needed to go your separate ways, he stayed optimistic. He said to himself that both of you could fix it. Whatever it was. You had to. Because the thought of losing you terrified him. It shook him to his very core.

So when the words losing myself left your mouth, he suddenly froze. 

It dawns him that it isn’t fixable, that you’re not going to come out of this together like you had in the past.

And it’s his fault.

How had he been so naive? How could he make you feel that way? So much for loving you. How could be so stupid? How could he let that be?

A million thoughts run through Tobio’s head, all of them pointing to one thing: it’s all his fault.

A long stretch of silence ensues. You dare sneak a glance at his face, and you completely regret it. Tobio’s normally stoic facade was broken. His eyes show the different things he feels.

He opens his mouth then closes it as he fumbles for words.

“I-I’m sorry.” His voice quivers. “I’m sorry that you... for making you lose yourself. I–I’m... I understand.” He looks you in the eye, and you almost break.

You see every emotion flash in his eyes. It’s rare to see him so vulnerable. 

You savour how beautiful they are. How you can somehow lose yourself in that sea of darkness and still feel safe every time. 

If only that was the only sea you lost yourself in, everything would be much simpler.

Alas, life spurns simplicity.

“I’m sorry too.” You whisper out hoarsely. “I’m sorry that I’m so weak. I’m sorry that I–” You are unable to speak anymore. The weight on your shoulder just keeps getting heavier and heavier until you’re sobbing.

You hear the chair scrape against the floor, and in a matter of seconds, Tobio pulls you from your seat and against his chest.

Your senses are overwhelmed by the scent of soap and lavender, and you cry even harder.

It stays like that for a long time. The two of you cling to each other as you sob.

Eventually, you do stop. And you both just stand there.

A part of you wonders desperately why Tobio isn’t fighting back. It’s the part that desires him to plead with you, to beg for you to come back. To fight for the two of you. It’s the part of you that wants to give in, to come back, to the caution to the wind.

It’s the part of you that scares you wholly, because it’s the part that screams you can’t live without him. You can’t survive without him. You can’t be without him.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers into your hair, and you hear him inhale.

You sigh and take in his scent, because this would be the last time you’d be able to. You savour the feeling of his arms around you. 

“Me too.”

There’s a short stretch of silence, and Tobio breaks it. “So where do you plan on staying?”

You enjoy the sound of his smooth voice. “I’ll stay with Hitoka-chan for a while. I’ll ask her to get my things. I’ll be out of your hair before the week ends.”

The weight is once again crushing you, but you will yourself through it. You will not have Tobio’s last memory of you be a sobbing mess.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

There’s one thing left to say, and you both hesitate to say it out loud. You both know once you say it, it’ll be finally over. There won’t be an us between you to anymore. And as much as it terrifies you to go down that road, you know you have to.

You lift your head to look at Tobio’s face. It’s unfair how handsome he is. The kitchen light highlighted his features anymore, and you’re tempted to sob again. Just so you can stay in his arms longer.

Tobio’s gaze is intense. His eyes drink in your features, knowing it will be the last time he’ll be able to do so. It hurts that it is, but he refuses to let his last chance go.

Slowly, your lips are drawn together by an invisible force. He hesitates once you’re just a whisper apart, but you don’t.

You press your lips against him firmly. His lips are soft, as it has always been. The thousand times that you’ve kissed him flash through your mind, and you wish that you savoured each and every time more. You wish that you just pressed your lips together longer, even if it was just by a second.

You cry. You don’t even notice it until you feel the tears running down your face. 

Your arms wrap around his neck as you stand on your toes. Neither of you want this moment to end. Neither of you want this to stop.

Surprisingly, it’s Tobio that pulls away first. He leans his forehead against yours, though due to your height, it’s more like he bends down. At any other time, you would’ve chuckled.

“I love you, so much.” He whispers. 

You look into his eyes, and behind that world of hurt and blame is love. 

You hesitate to say it back, knowing the time you say it will be the last. You take one final sweep of his face, memorising every curve, every slope, every line. You end it in his eyes.

“I love you too. 

Slowly you pull away. Each step hurt. It’s as if someone is crushing your heart every time. 

Finally, once you’ve opened the door, you spare Tobio one last glance. The kitchen light makes him a tall, dark shadow. And you suppose you’re thankful for that. It makes it easier, not seeing his eyes. It makes it easier to say what you’re about to next.

“Goodbye, Tobio.”

Tobio watches the door close. He looks over to the meal he’d set beside before. He sits in front of it and starts eating.

It’s lukewarm.

part two? anyone? hehe

[revengeisalwaysanoption]

FIC: MIO FIGLIO

So, this is something I wrote back in February from Anna’s (Nico’s mom) point of view. I’m very proud of how it turned out, so I hope you’ll enjoy it too :D... Despite the title, IT'S IN ENGLISH

Somewhere in Italy Early morning of a day in 1999

He’s so tiny. So small. So soft and breakable. Perhaps not the most beautiful, but surely the most precious creature on Earth. Her baby.

She can’t bear not to check on her son every five minutes, afraid he might have stopped breathing. It’s awfully stupid, and illogical, she knows that. The midwife she hired came with great recommendations, so there’s no reason not to trust her with both their lives, but... He took his sweet time coming into this world - a little later than scheduled, but who can blame him - and now it’s hard to tear her gaze from him. She keeps covering him in kisses, whispering how much he loves him already.

Ni. Ninì. Nico. Nicolì. Niccolò. Like the singer that brought her and Gioele together, on that sunny 1st of May in Piazza San Giovanni. It was the only name they agreed on, since her husband choices felt too extravagant - “They are going to be the ones having to live with a name like Gertrude, Genoveffa, Gervasio or Giosuè… what’s with you and names starting with a ‘G’, anyway?" - and all her favourites reminded him of people he couldn’t stand.

“We can name her Gertrude, okay?” She tilted her head back then, flashed him her cheekiest smile and pointed at the plush giraffe Gabriella - her sweet sixteen-year old sister-in-law, who had sworn she would make a great pianist out of her first nephew - had brought as a present.

“You don’t have to be a pianist. You can be a singer, a painter, a cartoonist… An engineer, a teacher, a doctor, a bricklayer, a plumber, an electrician… Whatever you wish, Ninì. I swear I’m going to do my best to help you find your call. And when you’ll stumble, mama is gonna be there to catch you before you get hurt too bad. Always.”

Empty promises? Is she going to turn into one of those ‘mother knows best’ ladies, who ignore their children wishes? Is she going to screw up - screwing him up, in the process - along the way? She’s so terrified of all that can hurt him, out there. Including herself.

*******************************

Rome, Anna Furlan & Gioele Fares Apartment Early morning of a day in 2020

He's happy. Happier than she's ever seen him in a really long time. And when she says 'happy', she doesn't mean the euphoric "LOOK, MOM! I'M ON TOP OF THE WORLD!!" state that always leads to a catastrophic crashing down… No, it's more like a calm soothing feeling that has him smiling fondly when she playfully slaps his hand - no, he's not allowed to have a taste before it's ready or, worse, dip his fingers into the batter: who raised him? - and shoos him out of the kitchen with a

"Go make yourself useful, Ninì. There’s some stuff in your old room that need to be sorted.” He looks touched, like he can’t quite believe he’s being trusted to actually know what can be tossed away and what should he should take with him.

He's content, yeah. But for how long? How can she soften the blow, when everything will inevitably fall apart?

She tried, so hard, to teach him not to rely on others when it comes to his own peace of mind… Made sure he'd give his best in trying to build a future for himself. But he's so… Spooked, and vulnerable, always on the lookout… Terrified he might end up alone. Unloved.

How… How can anybody meet her sweet, wide-eyed, cheerful Niccolò and not be instantly charmed by him? Not want to spend the rest of their life by his side?

Okay, he's got his flaws and his fluctuating moods can be hard to deal with. One might end up being his doctor, instead of a parent or a lover… She often catches herself going down that road, and she must admit it's nice to have Martino around to make her notice that. Maddalena would never have dared.

She might have not been exactly thrilled that Nico had fallen in love with him - up to the point she doubted the love itself, preferring to chalk it up to an obsession, an hyper fixation - but he sure won her over with his attentiveness, his willingness to learn from his past mistakes and not let the bad times spoil the best ones. Either the instants they would cherish for the years to come, or the momentary bliss that would be forgotten as soon as they closed their eyes. Both were worth being lived to their fullest.

He is human, imperfect, and proudly so.

And Niccolò wouldn't leave him just because he’s not infallible, would he? So why can’t he extend the same courtesy to himself?

Why, why would he think - even for a second - that he doesn't deserve all the best that the world can offer?

It must have been something she said. Something she did. The therapists have been pretty adamant on that.

‘Stop. Stop there. Stop making this about you. It isn’t. It never was. It will never be.’ She reprimands herself, as soon as she realises where her thoughts are leading her to. ‘Stop regretting what you can’t change, and work on what you can do better from now on. Remember he’s not your baby anymore, he’s an adult who will soon find out that being grown ups doesn’t mean you’ll get handed the answers and that everything will finally make sense in your life. He’s going to have to deal with that on his own… Or with Martino, who’s going through the same earth shattering revelation. You need to step down, step aside… And let him fall, let him live, Anna.’

It’s harder than usual to listen to the rational part of her brain, today, with him having just turned 21. He’s still so tiny… and small… Not weak, though.

She smiles, as she recalls the last meal they had with their relatives down in Gubbio - where her mother-in-law whispered into her ear “I like this one, he gives the best hugs. Reminds me of my dear Giorgio…” while looking at Martino - and all the teasing Niccolò had to endure from them… Until he got up, and said “Bet none of you can do this.” and proceeded to carry a disgruntled Martino over his shoulder. “Mh? What? Can’t hear you over the sound of my amazing strength, Marti. Told you I could do it, but you didn’t believe me…”

“Mom? Mom! You kept her?” Nico snaps out her reminisces, waving a tattered stuffed animal in front of her eyes. She jumps back, nearly dropping the baking tray. He saves it with his free hand, and together they put it in the oven.

“You kept her? Gertrude?” He asks, once again, after she has set the timer and sat down with him at the table. The poor giraffe has lost all of her spots - if she hadn’t seen her in her prime, back in 1999, she might have mistaken this Gertrude for a cow - and an eye. That had caused quite the scare, when she and Gio asked Nico where it had gone and he pointed at his mouth, giggling…

Poor chap, she had been dragged all over the floors and up on every tree that Niccolò had climbed as a child. And then she disappeared, after Maddalena's first visit. He needed to show her he was a man, not a little boy.

“Of course I did… I figured you might want to hand her down to…Another generation?”

“Mom, please…” He rolls his eyes, sighing.

“Hey, hey…” Fingertips on his cheekbones. A kiss on his forehead. Small gestures to reassure Nico that he’s not going to let her down because he won’t ever see himself raising a kid. “You know I don’t really care for a grandchild. It could be the gift from a cool uncle. Fitting, since you got it from your coolest aunt, right? Gabi wouldn’t want Gertrude to end up all alone, forgotten, at the bottom of a dusty box. Didn’t you promise them both a big adventure?”

“You... “ Niccolò whispers, tearing up a little.

“... remember? Of course I do, sweetheart. I’ve still got the birthday card you wrote them when you were five, after all… And what bigger adventure than the life you just started building for yourself?"

"I'm hardly doing that on my own."

"So? Don't sell yourself short. You're doing great..." Oh, is he really too old for a cuddle? Because she definitely feels like they should walk over to the sofa and just thread her fingers through his curls as he dozes off and forget all about his troubles.

The buzzing of the intercom has them getting up at the same time, racing to get it first. He's a damn cheat, no better than his father - what a pair of sore losers - and wins without breaking a sweat. She's hasn't been this silly in a long, long time... and she doesn't even know why.

"Marti?"

Well, maybe she can leave the cuddling to the expert.

[storytellerssanctum]

Hi, I really love your saw headcanons on here. 😍 Can I kindly ask for a Matt Gibson relationship & NSWF headcanons? Only if you want to of course. 😊 by the way, hope you’re safe and have a good day! ☺️

of course you can my love!! thank you so much sweetheart, I hope you’re safe as well ❤️ I’ll do this in two separate posts cause they tend to get a little long!

Matt Gibson Relationship Headcannons

• super protective over you 100% of the time. never wants you to be in danger

• is a man of tradition, so he loves anniversary dates, Christmas traditions, Valentine’s Day. He loves spending them all with you

• not super jealous but if he sees someone hitting on you he will absolutely be right next to you, hand around your waist, staring at them until they leave you alone

• terrified of you getting hurt

• always wants to hold you when you’re at home. nothing makes him happier than you being in his arms

• big kisser. he’s always kissing you even if it’s a quick peck when you visit him at work. he doesn’t care who sees

• praises you all the time, talks you up to all of his coworkers, is so so so proud of everything you do. (“That’s my baby” can be heard a lot from this guy)

• always thinks you’re so much smarter than him, he comes to you a lot when he needs help with something at work (as long as it’s not confidential! this is a man of his word!)

• calls you babe a lot

• likes to have his arm around you more than he likes holding your hand. don’t get me wrong, he won’t complain about holding your hand. he just likes the feeling of you being safe in his arms

• would never admit it but kind of caters to you a lot. you won’t even ask him to do something, but you’ll mention something you want and he’s on it. you said you wanted pizza the night before? he’s definitely bringing one home after work

• goes crazy for your smile. literally nothing could compare to it in his eyes

• loves making you laugh, even if he’s joking at the expense of himself.

• always always always tries to enjoy what you do. if he’s never tried it or didn’t know about it, he will absolutely try it for you and even if he hates it he’ll pick out what he appreciates to share your gratefulness for whatever it is.

• doesn’t say ‘I love you’ constantly, but you’ll always get a meaningful one once a day (usually before bed aw)

• he’s a big cuddler in his sleep. don’t dare move more than 6 inches away. he likes knowing you’re right beside him

• a slow dance in the kitchen with or without music kind of guy

• is a huge voice of reason when you’re upset. wants to cheer you up in an awful situation by helping you see the bright side

• loves it when you shit talk something. he’ll hype you up for days unless it starts to get out of hand

• would never say it but he wants a huge white wedding because he wants the chance to show the world how he loves you

• goes on drives with you a lot. loves sight seeing in the car with you by his side

• dogs. he loves you but he will always try to convince you to get a dog that he can love too (or another one... and another after that)

• play with his hair or rub his back and he’s asleep instantly

• is a very big fan of elaborate planned out dates. if he’s taking you on a date night, expect it to last hours or the whole damn day

• surprises you with flowers all of the time

• is really never mad at you. you guys get into small arguments and fights but he could never truly be angry at someone he adores so much

• will be your best friend no matter what. you can share anything with him at anytime. he’ll always be available to listen

• kind of a family guy, like wants to have or adopt a couple kids, live in a nice neighborhood with a big house. he’s that type of person

• sings songs to you a lot. he may not be the best at it but it’s so heartwarming. he sings almost every love song he knows to you

• always texts you paragraphs about what he loves about you in case you ‘forgot’

• always updates you on what he’s doing when you’re not together because he wants to make sure you know what’s going on incase you start to worry when you don’t hear from him

• literally daydreams about you. he can’t get you out of his head. especially when he’s at work. all of the other workers already know what he’s thinking about

• definitely pursued you first. he chased after you like a sad puppy

• overall the kinda guy you wanna be in a relationship with. he’s super good with boundaries, never makes you feel unloved, makes sure you’re happy, and isn’t overbearing and if he is he’s sure to apologize because he probably didn’t mean it

[desperadc]

meet OLIVER FORD !! to read more about him click the link below !!

full name: oliver hayworth ford

nicknames: olly, ford

age: 23

birthday: june 23

zodiac: cancer

gender: cismale

sexuality: bisexual

height: 5′10

body type: muscular 

distinguishing features: freckles across his cheeks & tops of his shoulders

tattoos/piercings: left ear pierced 

about - *TW DEATH/CHILD-EMOTIONAL ABUSE/VIOLENCE/CPTSD*

norma earl never wanted children and she stood by that until she met terrance ford. it was the kind of love that hit hard and fast. the duo fell so quickly that the people in their lives had a hard time catching up. they moved in with each other within two months of dating and by the fourth month, norma was pregnant. terrance wanted to do the noble thing and proposed, wanting to step for the kid. norma was hesitant, having always planned on never having children but she loved terrance so much that she figured it wouldn’t be so bad with him around to help. everything was going fine for the couple until 8 months into the pregnancy, terrance got into a car accident which involved a drunk driver which unfortunately took his life. norma was stuck, too far along in the pregnancy to get rid of it and now completely alone with a soon to be born child she didn’t even really want to begin with. when terrance died, norma broke in a way that could never be fixed and she held onto so much anger about his death that she pointed onto her child. 

as soon as oliver was born, norma barely touched him or even looked at him. her and terrance’s parents would take turns looking after the baby because to them norma was still mourning her husband which wasn’t untrue. soon there wasn’t much of an excuse for norma to never be alone with her child and her anger started to become an issue. she blamed oliver for terrance’s death, using the logic that if she hadn’t gotten pregnant that none of that would of ever happened and she would be happy without him. every second she got, she’d remind him of that. before he could even speak, she’d drill it into him that he was to blame for his fathers death. 

as oliver grew older, his mother’s insults and anger turned to violence. she knew he’d never hit her back or fight because he was taught not to hit women. it all escalated the day he accidentally broke a vase which was the last straw for her and she pushed him to the ground before kicking him in the stomach. occurrences like this became more and more normal along with the constant reminders of how much of burden he was, how he is the reason his fathers dead and how much his mother wished he didn’t exist. 

while this was all happening, no one knew. his grandparents, his teachers, his friends. no one knew that his mother was treating him this way because he’d gotten so used to her abuse that he wanted to please her and make her happy because he thought he deserved it all. it wasn’t until he started high school that he started to realize that this wasn’t normal and he had to get out. olly secretly got a job and told his mother he was studying late so he could save money to move away after high school. he worked and saved until he finally had enough combined with the money his grandparents gave him as a graduation present. olly left the day after graduation, got on a plane and stepped off in nyc. he called his grandparents and told them he left the uk because he needed to ‘find himself’ because it was easier to say that i can’t be in the same country as my mother. 

olly stumbled into the avenue one night, not knowing the history or significance of the place. he was deep in the closet, still in the denial about being bisexual but with his new found bravery, he walked into himbo’s and walked out with a job. he came out three months after starting there and has worked there ever since. his life has gotten so much better, so much happier and for once he wasn’t faking his smile most of the time but the memories and pain he suffered in his childhood was too much for him to just move on from. he has trouble sleeping, riddled with nightmares that plague his sleep and remind him of the horrible things his mother did. everything is starting to catch up with him but he’s too stubborn to ask for help or let anyone know that he needs help to begin with.

personality

olly has always been a friendly guy who can make people smile. very literally the type of guy to give you the shirt off his back if you need it even if you don’t ask but would rather pull out his own tongue than express his own feelings. his childhood is at fault here, the abuse making it hard for him to trust himself and his judgement of other people so he’s constantly worried if people would judge him or think he’s too damaged or unlovable so he just pretends nothing bad is ever going on with him. that being said, he doesn’t do relationships or love and gravitates towards unattached arrangements like hook ups. 

wanted connections:

friends, hookups, fwb, romantic interest ( pls mssg me if ur interested in this bc im picky lmao ) etc ! if u have any open connections u think olly would fit dont hesitate to hmu !

[retrobhaddie]

Run boy run

Pairing: Tony Stark x stark!reader

Summary: Y/n is done, she was always the disappointment of the family, she was the smartest of her class, but her dad doesn’t care. Instead he loves his new found protégée Peter as his own while y/n rots in the back. Tony doesn’t realize what he’s doing until it’s to late.

A/n: It’s based on the song ‘run boy run’ from woodkid.

Warnings: ANGST, inaccurate representation of the greatest avenger (Tony Stark), mental abuse, running away from home

•••

Run boy run! This world is not made for you Run boy run! They’re trying to catch you Run boy run! Running is a victory Run boy run! Beauty lays behind the hills

“Dad look I made an engine out of scrap” a happy y/n runs towards her father in pride. “I’m busy right now. Show me later” her father says cold. He promised himself he would never turn into his father, that he won’t ever let his kid feel neglected or unloved. The downside to this promise was that promises are made to be broken.

Run boy run! The sun will be guiding you Run boy run! They’re dying to stop you Run boy run! This race is a prophecy Run boy run! Break out from society

When y/n turned 14 she graduated MIT. A whole year earlier, but still her dad seemed unbothered by her accomplishment, instead he chose to stay focused on his superheroing. Of course did y/n understand that the world needs iron man, so how could she possibly ask him to make time for her? How selfish would it be to ask someone to take a break from saving the world for some love? It’s something that she can’t do. Tony is focused on how to save the world from all sorts of attacks. 

Tomorrow is another day And you won’t have to hide away

The real problem started when y/n figured out it wasn’t about saving the world. It was about her. Tony didn’t spend time with her because he had a suit to upgrade but just because he didn’t want to. This became clear to her when y/n met Peter Parker. A genius and superhero. It was only logical that he would prefer him above y/n, right?

You’ll be a man boy

But for now it’s time to run, it’s time to run!

It was the last thing that y/n could handle. Tony forgot her birthday and when she went to him to confront him about it he simply said, “sorry I was too busy with Peter to notice” it made y/n’s stomach turn. How could he possibly love her this little? She’s his own flesh and blood. She might be the creation of a simple one-night stand, but how her father has been acting to her is crossing a line that shouldn’t even be in sight. 

Run boy run! This ride is a journey to

Run boy run! The secret inside of you

Run boy run! This race is a prophecy

Run boy run! And disappear in the trees

‘It is time’ Y/n thought to herself. The plan was ready to be put into acting. Y/n was ready to escape this life and never come back, her dad would be happier without her anyway, so she grabbed the letter she wrote to him a few years back when she came up with this. 

Tomorrow is another day

And you won’t have to hide away

“Hello Tony” the letter says “You might be wondering where I am or this is years after my dissapearance, I have not even the slightest idea how long it will take for you to notice I’m gone. It has been an emotional hell for me here. Of course we had enough financial stability, but I realize that that’s all I have here. I don’t have any family or friends, well except for you of course but we both know that you would rather have someone else as your kid. All the years I’ve lived here you told me how you would do better than your father and if this is better than that I can’t even comprehend the pain you endured when you were little. The pain I get from living here became to much for me so that is why I decided to go. I don’t blame you for what happend I only blame myself for not being worthy of you love. I wish you the best and I hope that one day you’ll have a kid of your own who you’ll love the way you couldn’t love me.

Bye Tony,

Y/n Y/l/n

You’ll be a man, boy!

But for now it’s time to run, it’s time to run!

Y/n specifically wrote her mother’s last name, it would show Tony how she wasn’t related to him any more. She was done with being a Stark and he would know it.

Tomorrow is another day

And when the night fades away

She grabs her bag and runs, it’s a wonder that FRIDAY doesn’t notice her leaving but y/n doesn’t mind the only thing she wants is to go to her new home that is set ready for her moving in. The only pluspoint of having Tony as a father isnhaving a big allowance so she could afford the place easy.

You’ll be a man, boy!

But for now it’s time to run, it’s time to run!

“Where is Y/n?” Tony asked Peter, he knew how he has been abandoning y/n for a while so he threw a birthday party as a sorry. “I don’t know maybe in her room” Peter shrugged. “Oh yeah I will check” Tony walks upstairs to her room. Everything inside is perfect. On her bed is one envelope with his name written on it. He grabbed it and reads it and re-reads it. Tears start to roll down his cheeks, he fucked up. He wasn’t any better then his father. “I pushed her away” he mutters to himself. It was his doing and he knows it.

taglist: @mega-trash-cringe