#TEARING ME APART AND MAKING ME FEEL THE ABSOLUTE SHITTIEST

[oatmealmika]

CALL ME BATSHIT INSANE BUT HERE IN MY IMAGINARY BOYFRIEND WITH THIS ASK MEME (this def ain't a normal person thing y'all what would this illness be called)

❣️ - What are their love languages?

Ren's love languages are quality time and physical touch.

🌙 - What’s their sleep schedule like?

VERY messy

One night, he sleeps like a princess. The next, he stays up all night in a Google rabbithole.

🎁 - How do they feel about their birthday/birthdays in general?

Makes a list of what he wants but doesn't expect all of everything that was there.

🧑‍🦰 - Have they ever dyed their hair? Ever cut it themself?

Never dyed his hair, but he does trim his hair on his own when it gets longer than he likes (over the biceps).

🍷- How do they feel about alcohol?

Can handle fizzy drinks and overall would like the taste of alcohol, but he's very cautious with it and won't drink until he's twenty-one!

🗣️ - How do they handle public speaking?

when it's not performing his music, he's sorta awkward but he can definitely be quite funny while nervous.

🎮 - What’s their favorite game?

TLoZ is his second coming of Christ

💓 - What are some signs they’ve fallen for someone? How do they show their affection?

He's TOO obvious about it honestly. he out here like "yeah the new TLoZ game is awesome and i'd honestly smash you but Link's design is so cool-"

🤡 - What’s something dumb they’re embarrassed about?

That he likes all the shit movies and shows Netflix puts out.

🌱 - Do they have a green thumb or are they a plant killer?

He actually has a green thumb! He didn't know it until recently, but he got a lot of plants after finding out!

📱 - What social media do they use the most?

Probably Pinterest or Tiktok?

Doesn't like the energy on Tiktok, but can deal.

👪 - What’s their relationship with their parents like?

Good! They're chill.

🐒 - What’s their favorite animal?

Dogs! DOGS DOGS DOGS! LOVES DOGS!

🧳 - What countries have they been to?

Has been out to Britain before cuz some family's there, but that's it!

🤔 - What’s something they’ll never understand?

How people can be so mean and judgy to others while the judgers are the most boring people EVER

🎨 - What’s their favorite color?

Sage green

☂️ - How do they feel about rain?

Loves it! Sings in the rain and dances, with me telling him to come back inside.

🎶 - What’s a song they really like?

Hm... He's a very music guy, but recently I introduced him to Reality Club and he loves it!

🖌️ - Do they have any hobbies?

Music. He loves music! He plays bass, but can also play drums (he just prefers bass). He can sing too. Very Thom Yorke sounding.

💤 - What do they absolutely need to have to fall asleep?

Pillows to snuggle! If not, I'll need to be right there.

🎢 - Do they like amusement parks? What’s their favorite ride?

LOVES amusement parks. Enjoys rollarcoasters with big drops, but just can't do loops.

🗺️ - What languages do they speak?

Fluently, only English. Knows a little Spanish, but not much.

🍳 - How well can they cook?

Learning. His most advanced dish is probably steak.

🍪 - How well can they bake?

Bakes by the steps since he can't do it on his own, but it actually is very good! Makes a MEAN red velvet cake!

💘 - What do they find attractive about their partner(s)?

He says he likes how understanding I can be and inteligent (more so philosophically rather than academically).

👗 - How comfortable would they be wearing a skirt or dress?

Eh... Not his kinda deal! He doesn't like the feeling of it hitting his legs.

💝 - What gestures do they really appreciate? How do you get on their good side?

If you match his energy and shares very important view points with him, he can fw you forever!

☕ - Coffee or tea?

Hm... Energy drink

💀 - How do they feel about horror movies?

Loves them! Doesn't really like gore, tho. He's more of a psychological guy, even tho he always claims himself to be stupid.

🧸 - Do they have any stuffed animals? If so, are they decorative or do they sleep with them?

Yes, he does. Has a bunch of pillows he sleeps with, and his stuffed animals sit on the nightstand.

💖 - How and how often do they try to impress their partner(s)? How and how often do their partner(s) impress them?

He tries to impress me VERY often, ex. playing a ridiculous guitar riff (I do end up very impressed). I do too try impressing him (cuz I yearn for attention), and he always delivers in return. He's great at compliments, and really knows how to make someone feel special.

🍽️ - What’s their favorite food?

Spaghetti with red sauce and meatballs!

🧑‍🍼 - How do they feel about kids?

Handles them very well and would like to have one or maybe a few more than that someday.

🐾 - Do they have any pets?

A cat named Minto, a dog named Kurt, and a turtle named Zoro.

💬 - What are some filler/buffer words they use? (Like, um, etc.)

When moving down to California, he got accustomed to using "like" a lot.

🏳️‍🌈 - What do they identify as? What are their pronouns?

Bisexual, leaning towards women. He/Him pronouns.

🧑‍🤝‍🧑 - Do they have any siblings?

Mhm! His older sister Hannah is three years older than him, and his little brother Thomas is five years younger!

🥰 - What pet names do their partner(s) use for them? How flustered do they get by them?

Uses very corny, dumb names. Ex. "Sweetie Pie", "Lemon Cake", "Sweet Tart". I try and mockingly replicate them with "Shit Stain" and stuff like that.

🌳 - What’s their extended family like?

They're mostly all in New York, but there's some in England! He's a quarter British, a quarter Persian, another quarter Mexican, and a final quarter Native American. He has a very diverse family.

[hamsterboos]

A Ray of Sunshine

Here's my submission for Day 1 of Rowaelin Month! Unfortunately, I doubt I'm going to be able to do every day, but this month really is bringing the TOG fandom together from what I can tell so thank you to @rowaelinscourt for organizing this <3 this is my first TOG fic so go easy on me lol it's a lot shorter than what I usually write, but I wrote it in an hour at work lmao

Word Count: 873 Read on AO3 Rowaelin Month Master list

Day 1 of Rowaelin Month Prompt: I just realized I’m desperately in love with you.

~~~

Aelin was having a horrible day.

Actually, horrible might be an understatement.

The day started bright and beautiful, without a single cloud in sight, and so she decided she’d walk down to the local cafe to get some breakfast before heading into the subway for work.

It seemed like a great idea until some idiot almost ran over her with his bike, and she spilled her coffee all over the sidewalk.

Alright, that was still fine, she could deal. Sure she’d be half asleep, but she still had her apple turnover. That was enough sugar to get her through at least the first half of the day.

Except that once she got to work, she was so busy running around dealing with random stuff at work that she wasn’t even supposed to be dealing with. She was an editor for god’s sake, not an intern running around making copies and calling printer companies! It was not part of her job description, and it was not something she wanted to spend her time doing instead of the work she actually loved.

Finally, once she got around to going back to her desk to enjoy her wonderful, sweet, decadent apple turnover, Aelin was incredibly frustrated to realize that someone had picked it off her desk.

And ate it.

Aelin collapsed into her chair, absolutely exhausted, and now she didn’t even get to eat any part of her breakfast.

But that was still fine. It was okay. She still had lunch in half an hour, and she could deal with the rest of the work day.

Not a problem.

Unfortunately, it was a problem just being able to sit down and eat. Why was it so hard to get some food into her? Apparently the people she worked with just had no courtesy or decency to let her do her job in peace. Once Aelin was finally able to sit down and do her actual work, fifteen minutes later she was being pestered by her boss about edits she had done two months ago. And then it was about giving her more work. Followed by some more urgent work. Then it was asking her to do some work that needed to be done for someone else who was on vacation.

Aelin was desperately starting to feel like she needed to quit this job considering how overworked she was, but she also needed the job, needed to pay for her apartment, her bills, her student loans.

She knew she needed all those things, but what she wanted was her best friend to tell her she’d be okay. Aelin wanted Rowan to hug her and tell her that she’d be fine, that he’d have her back no matter what, and that she’d get through this job long enough for her to find a new, better one.

Chewing on her lip in the rare moment she’d had to herself in the entire day, she decided to pick up her phone and text Rowan. He didn’t need to know that she was having a shitty day and felt worthless. His presence itself would make her feel better.

Hey, can I come over for dinner?

His response came within a minute.

Sure. I’ll see you after work?

His casual response, just knowing that she’d want to come over right after work, made Aelin’s heart swell.

The rest of the day passed by with Aelin just desperately wanting to see Rowan’s face just for something good on this trashy day.

At exactly 4:43PM, she knocked on his apartment door, and it swung open to reveal Rowan’s bright smiling face. His hair was mussled as though he had run his hand through it several times, and he had his fancy apron on. Just looking at his face was as though she’d seen a ray of sunshine after a dark and rainy day. The wafting smell of chocolate hit her soon afterwards, and tears sprang to her eyes.

“Oh my god, what happened,” he asked, his smile dropping for a look of concern as he reached out for her. He pulled her into a warm hug and closed the door behind her.

“I love you so, so much,” she sobbed out into his chest, and in that moment, she knew she meant it. She loved Rowan.

“And I love you, Aelin, but do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I’m serious, Rowan,” she responded, still burying her face into his chest, “I’ve had the shittiest day ever, and I just looked at you and everything bad disappeared. You even made me chocolate cake, and you know me better than I know myself. You’re too good for me, and I love you. Like romantically.”

Rowan huffed out a laugh, and she slowly pulled away to see why he was laughing at her, but he was only looking down at her with a bright smile and the fondest look on his face.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say it and mean it?”

“Um,” she sniffled, wiping tears off her cheeks, “two seconds?”

“More like two years.”

“Oh my god, why didn’t you say anything?!”

“Because I’m pretty sure you just realized it two seconds ago, and that’s okay.”

[bugsbucky]

Special Birthday Girl

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Prompt: DDs: it’s your birthday and unfortunately, you and Sebastian/Bucky had a fight a few days ago and still aren’t talking. There’s a delivery of a large bouquet of flowers from your partner but the note attached makes you anxious he’s hinting for a breakup. How do you make up when you learn the note was just worded incorrectly?

Warnings: Angst, lots of tension, fluff, happy ending!

Word Count: 1,466 (Yikes!)

Authors Notes: This is for @the-ss-horniest-book-club​​ Extended Drunk Drabbles! A really really big thank you to my tumblrmama @hawksmagnolia​​​ for your help with this prompt! Couldn’t have finished it without you!! 

Happy birthday sweetheart!!! Hope you have a great day!

Many kisses Y/N! Have a fantastic day!

Happy Birthday!!!

Happy birthday, you beautiful human!

The birthday messages kept pouring in from your friends and family. Everyone close to you had wished you a happy birthday, everyone except Bucky.

The atmosphere in your tiny single bedroom apartment was uncomfortably thick. Even his Avenger friends picked up on the tension as soon as they had walked into the space.

The two of you had had a pretty heated fight a week ago about his continued grumpiness. Bucky was tired, you understood that since he’s been working so much, but his short patience with you was making you crazy. It seemed he bit your head off every time you opened your mouth. You were officially done with his surly mood so you chose to put him in his place, warning him that if he didn’t stop talking to you like that then he shouldn’t bother talking to you at all.

Since that day, he has chosen the latter and hasn’t spoken to you since. Whenever you and Bucky have fought in the past, one of you would usually break the silence after an hour. You kept expecting him to try and fix things, like apologise for his hostile remarks but nothing. You feared this was the end of your relationship, that this was his way of breaking up without saying it.

It was like two strangers under the same roof. You still shared the same bed, but at different times. You cooked and ate your own meals separately and spent most of the day in a different room away from each other.

 But today was your birthday and while you were really happy to receive such beautiful messages from those who loved you, the memory of your angry outburst and his silence sat heavily on top of your shoulders. Just knowing that you and Bucky weren’t okay was making it difficult to enjoy your day.

A sudden knock echoes throughout the apartment startles you and your head jerks to the door in the hopes to hear Bucky striding to answer it. When you hear nothing after a couple of heartbeats another loud knock comes. You huff in frustration and stomp towards the door. You hadn’t heard Bucky leave the apartment and knew he was here somewhere. He had come in very early this morning and you assumed he’d crashed on the couch. You’d been hiding in the bedroom, hoping the door would muffle any tears. 

Would it really be such an inconvenience for him to answer the damn door?

You yank the door open with more force than you intended to use and your eyebrows shot up into your hairline. A delivery man in brown uniform stood in front of you holding a beautifully wrapped large bouquet of flowers in one hand and a clipboard in the other.

“Good afternoon ma’am! Are you Miss Y/L/N?”

You nodded. “Um yes, that’s me.”

“Great. I’ve got a delivery for you from Mr. James Buchanan Barnes.” Hearing his full name caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“Oh.” You blew out a surprised breath. He’d bought you flowers for your birthday? Your excitement died a bit and you swallowed a knot in your throat realizing he could have ordered them well before your fight.

The man clears his throat and you blink at him. It’s then you realize that he’s holding the flowers out for you to take them. You take them gracefully as possible, quickly scribbling your name down on the piece of paper and nudging the door closed with your foot.

 Setting the flowers down on the side in the kitchen, you go on a hunt for a big enough vase to fit the bunch. As you’re about to turn away, you see a note wedged between the petals from your peripheral vision.

Plucking the note between your fingers, your eyes scanning over the words printed on the back of it.

My love, I’m wishing you the happiest of birthdays. May the light guide your loneliness in your future adventures.

Yours, Bucky

What the absolute fuck did that mean? Your eyebrows furrow as you re-read it over and over and it still does not make any sense in your mind. Was he seriously hinting of a breakup with you? On your birthday of all days?!

Tossing the card on the kitchen counter, you take a step back and rub your temples. Tears were pooling in your eyes with the fear of what it meant.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Bucky asked from behind you. The first three words he has spoken since your fight and his voice sounds almost foreign to you now. “Did you not like my flowers?” His voice was deep and raspy, as though he just woken up from his nap. You sensed some guilt there too.

“They are nice.” You breathed, keeping your eyes closed as your heart raced. This was truly the shittiest of birthdays you’ve ever had.

“Y/N.” You could feel his body heat in front of you, his footsteps were silent thanks to his experience as an assassin. His large hands wrapped around your wrists and pulled them away from your face. Tears slid down your cheeks and you averted your gaze everywhere but on him.

“Are you breaking up with me?” The words rolled off your tongue before you could swallow them down. Might as well give the shitty day a high five and get it over with.

For a moment, Bucky looks stunned. It’s quickly replaced with confusion as his brows knit together. “Of course not! We’re adults here, I know we can and will fix it. It was just a stupid little fig-”

“Then why word the note the way you did? What the fuck does it even mean? You make it sound like I’m going into my future alone without you. And today of all days, Bucky! It’s my fucking birthday and I can’t believe you’d do this!” 

The crease between his eyebrows deepens and now he’s more confused by what you meant. “What note are you talking about, doll?”

You refrain from rolling your eyes, the leftover anger from your fight and frustration of the week of silent treatment coming to the surface. You stepped around his large frame and almost punched the card into his chest.

He read over the note and you took mental notes of his expressions. Confusion that was replaced by anger. His nostrils flared as he ripped the card up and threw the pieces on the floor.

“I didn’t write that. That’s not even close to what I told the girl to write.” He scoffed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“What do you mean?”

“The girl at the flower shop has this weird crush on me. I told her what I wanted the writing to say and that was not it and clearly she fucked it up deliberately.”

You looked at each other and soon it became a staring contest. A small smile fighting its way to your lips and you shift under his intense gaze.

“Y/N.” He whispered, stepping closer. “I promise baby, I’m not breaking up with you. I wouldn’t even dream of it. I know we haven’t talked this past week and believe me, it killed me. I had to keep fighting the urge to curl into you at night and wrap you in my arms. I’m so sorry for my moods and I promise I’ll get my shit together. And believe me, that girl who sabotaged that note will not get away with it.”

This time a smile did find its way to your lips. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face into his chest. He planted a kiss on top of your head and held you close, as though he was afraid you’d turn to dust.

“I love you. So fucking much.” He sighed. His breath fanning against your hair as he spoke.

“I love you too.” You craned your neck upwards and smiled. He kissed the tip of your nose and darted his tongue out to lick his dry lips.

“I’ve missed you.” You whispered. Your chin resting against this broad chest. A goofy grin appears on his face and you already know the next words that will leave his lips.

“Not as much as I’ve missed you. I have a lot of making up to do. But since I didn’t give you your special birthday gift this morning, how about I give it to you now?” 

“You better make sure it’s extra special.”

“Extra special for my special girl, coming right up.” He scooped you up into his arms and carried you straight into the bedroom.

Taglist: @jobean12-blog​ @marvelgirl7​ @godofplumsandthunder​ @hawksmagnolia​ @deanthedemon​ @eurynome827​ @emilylyoness​ @buckybarnesplumwhore​ @sarge-barnes-sir​ @crushedbyhyperbole​ @this-kitten-is-smitten​ @kitkatd7​​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​ @littleredstarfish​​ @buckys-henley​​ @tuiccim​​ @mystoragehatesme​​ @starspangledseb​​ @bambamwolf87​​ @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog

[words-for-holland]

Your Shoulder to Cry On

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Y/N has been feeling down all day and Tom wants her to know that he’ll always be here for her.

Maybe it was just one of those Mondays, but today just seemed like the worst ones Y/N has ever experienced. Truthfully she didnt know how it happened. She was having a great morning, waking up in Tom’s arms, giving him his daily dose of kisses before he left to film, and actually getting her work done with time to spare.

But there was definitely a change in the wind that day and it all started with a...

Ding

With all the free time Y/N had she couldnt help but check her phone, guessing it was either Tom or her parents checking up on her, or maybe her hometown friends who are updating her on what’s going on with their new found adult life.

It was her friends all right...but the conversation was far from friendly. Arguments ensued from her three friends coming after each others neck and of course pulling..no...dragging Y/N unwilling into it. While she said no words, as she tried to find the best way to relieve the tension it was too late. Her good day had become the shittiest day of the week...and its only just begun.

Now abandoning her work, Y/N waits for her boyfriend to come home as she mindlessly scrolls through Instagram, only to see a notification pop up on her phone. Assuming it was another nasty text from her friends, she was much surprised to be welcomed a picture of her and Tom on her feed with a caption saying...

“Cant wait to see my girl after work. It’s been a long day 😫.”

If anything made Y/N smile at all today it was Tom. In some weird way its like he knew how she felt without even telling or seeing him. He was her rock after all and if there was anyone she could count on to make her smile in the least it was Tom. Just on cue, he called her right after.

“Hello darling.” He greets sleepily.

“Hey babe.” Y/N responded quietly.

“Are you okay?”

“Hmm. Oh..yeah just fine.” She lies, hoping not to worry him too much.

“Darling, I can tell you’re not. You dont sound like yourself. Ill be home soon okay? Tell me all about it?”

Y/N nodded as she whispered, “Yeah.”

“Okay..I love you so much. Ill be home soon.”

“I love you too.” She croaks.

Just like that Tom was home in record time, but not without capturing a few things to cheer his girl up. He welcomed her with freshly baked cookies from her favorite cookie shop, and nothing was better than food from her favorite Italian spot. Tom placed the food on the counter as he searched for his girl.

“Love, Im home.” He called out. “Are you okay, darling?”

Y/N popped in the hallway as she ran straight into his arms, not saying a word but holding onto him as if she would lose him.

“Hey..hey. Whats wrong?” He asked in his soothing voice.

“Lots of drama.” She mumbled. “I love you but you didnt have to go through buying all this. I could have cooked for us.”

Tom pulled away from her, giving the look confusion and disapproval. “Cooked for us while you’re clearly upset? Thats absolute bullocks. We’re gonna eat all this food because we can and then youre gonna vent everything out and then.. Im gonna hold you in my arms and coax you to sleep so you can relax and have a shoulder to cry on.”

Y/N smiled at the gesture already wraaping her arms around him, shedding a slight tear at how he would always be here for her. “I love you so much Tom.”

“I do too. Now tell me what’s wrong, darling.”

So Y/N did tell him everything from what happened with her friends and how the unecessary pile of work came up on her, and all the insecurities that have just risen out throughout the whole day. She was on his lap as they cuddled into the sofa. Showing her phone, he reads the last remaining texts from the conversation.

“I’m unfollowing y’all on everything and i am not answering another text just thought i would throw how crazy that is, out there. So at this point i’m done. forget it y’all can chill i’m out:) ”

“Wow.” He said, taking a moment to process what happened. “She really meant it, didnt she?”

Y/N nodded as she put her phone away. “Yeah and now Im just in the middle because I dont know what to do or who to support. Our whole friendship is breaking apart and I just dont want to lose any of them.” She cries silently, occaionally bring up the sleeves of Tom’s hoodie to wipe her nose and eyes.

“Hey, look its not your fault you were just trying to help. I know you guys have been friends for so long and Im sure that this is just a small bump and all four of you will get together and this will all be put past behind you.” Tom encourages as he tucks a small piece of her hair behind her ear, leans in for a comforting kiss on her forehead. “Darling, I know how much you wanted to fix things between your friends but it’s not your fault. This isnt yours to fix you just need to give it some time yeah? Even if your friends dont stick around thats on them, but just know I will always be here for you. Ill be your shoulder to cry on, and I sure as hell wont leave or unfollow you.” He chuckles at the situation, wiping away her tear stained cheeks.

“Haha how funny.” She sniffles and smiles at Tom’s corny attempt to make a joke of the situation like he always does.

“See theres that smile, Ive been waiting all day to see. I just can’t get enough of it.” Tom compliments. “That smile should stay there for good. Fuck anyone or anything that tries to take it away for you.”

“Thank you Tommy.” Y/N says sweetly, leaning in and pressing her lips against Tom’s.

Tom smiles back into the kiss gently cradling the back of her head. “Anytime darling. Now let’s see if there are other ways to make you feel better.” He winked as he carried her up to their room.

[yannasunflower]

dust to dust | chapter two

chapter one | chapter two

ao3

You don't know what makes you save Kuroo Tetsurou's life. All you know is there is no world to save anymore, but damn if you're just stupid enough to try.

Genre: hurt/comfort/romance/angst Rating: Mature, subject to change (gore, violence) Kuroo x fem!Reader Word count: 3.5k

hey everyone! here's chapter two, as promised. this fic is also cross-posted to AO3, where i'm under the same username. linked above as well! next chapter, action picks up, plot picks up, and we get more Kuroo, promise. enjoy, and as always, please reblog, like, and comment <3

Nobody ever told you how absolutely boring a zombie apocalypse could be.

Your ragtag group of survivors have scavenged what entertainment they can - books and gym equipment, even a few board games. People like Suga and Takeda keep busy with the children, teaching them to read and garden and how to survive if mommy and daddy never come back for them.

You open one lazy eye as a gaggle of them stumble after Suga, hanging on to his every word.

You’re not sure how the two men handle placing a long knife in a child’s chubby hand, fingers barely able to grip it,and showing them how to strike right at a nighstalker’s heart, fast and deep. Their giggles float through the air and the sound is almost dreamlike and if you keep your eyes closed, you can pretend this is a movie and when you open them, the credits will roll and you can go home.

Others tend to the elderly, of which there are only three in your group. You try to keep them comfortable and as far from danger as possible. But your body constantly prickles with the knowledge that they aren’t just vulnerable - they are a vulnerability. A hole in the brick wall you are attempting to build around this little community.

The healthy and fit young people patrol and take rotations on the watchtowers. Teenagers help with the lessons. Takeda had been firm about this. Once a kid turned seventeen, they were allowed to join the patrols, but until then, they stayed sequestered away.

It was almost comical, telling a tall, strong, angry Tobio that he had to mind the children. He towers over you, but he had bent to your will after a brief glaring contest. And then a week later, Shoyo had bounded into everyone’s hearts, including his, and the pair were inseparable.

Kiyoko, for her part, had taken one look at Yachi, shivering at Hinata’s side, and adopted her, sweeping her under a protective wing and keeping her there.

For people like you, who have no “bedside manner” as Kiyoko puts it, there are chores and day to day mini emergencies to keep you busy. Somehow, in the months since the world finally decided to fall apart, you have become mediator and negotiator. It’s an unlikely role; you can see your mother’s arched brow if she was still alive to see you now.

You barely have the patience for grocery shopping.

She would have laughed, elbowing your father, who would have made a valiant attempt at a straight face.

These are useless memories but you allow yourself to indulge for a moment. You have nothing better to do. Lunch is cooking, inventory has been completed, the guard rotation is set for the next two weeks. Ukai had waved you off this morning when you finally managed to corner him, complaining about your ceaseless energy and the “mad glint” in your eye. His words.

“That look means trouble for me,” he had growled, pointing an accusing finger at you. “Go to your cell and get some sleep for the love of anything you find holy.” Without another word, the man had leaned against a wall, put his feet up on his desk, and closed his eyes. A clear dismissal. You tried not to huff but you definitely stomped a little bit on the way out.

You don’t know how to tell him that staying in your cell, with your eyes closed, is inviting the living nightmares. You don’t know how to tell anyone, really, that you are just as haunted as this prison, as Daichi’s eyes.

That the only holy thing left in this world is fear and if you succumb to that, you’ll never move again.

You let a sigh tumble out of you. Forcibly, you shove your thoughts in another direction.

It had been a week since you brought home your latest stray. Kuroo had spent the first three days doing little else but sleep and eat. Daichi has taken to walking him around the Pit every day, explaining the way things work, and Suga showed him his pride and joy just yesterday. Kuroo had been suitably impressed by the garden, if the generous second and third helpings Suga thought he was sneaking to him at dinnertime were anything to go by.

The man has filled out nicely. He looks less skeleton, more human after sleep and hot food. You had peeked in on him in the grey of dawn that morning after Daichi not-so-subtly hinted that Kuroo had been asking about you.

He sleeps curled up on his side, hair falling against his cheek. In another world, you would have taken a picture.

Kiyoko tells you that the men like him, that Tanaka has stopped regarding him with all the wariness of a stray cat, and that she’s pretty sure Yachi has a crush on him.

You open your eyes into a blazing afternoon, unsurprised to see the subject of your thoughts stretching in the courtyard, the weak sunlight rippling over his bare arms. His black hair is messy as ever and you are struck all over again by how tall he is.

Tobio got a new babysitter, you think with no small amount of amusement. The gangly teenager needs someone to keep him in line and frankly, you don’t have the time and Hinata is just as likely to suggest some stupid shit for them to get into as he is.

You are still stretched out like a cat on a bench, letting the sun warm you, half-hoping it will lull you into a nap.

It’s boredom, more than anything, that makes you turn your head toward Kuroo.

“If you’d like to get some exercise, we have equipment. I’m sure Noya can show you,” you call.

Kuroo jumps and swivels to look at you, eyes wide and so, so dark. You look away. Something about him is like staring at the sun; too long, and your eyes burn.

“Didn’t see you there,” he admits easily, sauntering over to your bench. You eye his approach, noting that he really must be feeling a lot better. His movements are more fluid now, lean muscles becoming apparent on his shoulders.

Daichi has blessed every woman, and a few men, in the Pit by finding Kuroo a pair of grey joggers and a muscle tank top for everyday wear.

“I don’t do well with sitting still,” he says, leaning over you. His head casts you in shadow, blotting out the sun. “This is something I think you can understand.”

Up close, you can see that the shadows beneath his eyes are retreating gradually. His smile looks less like a grimace today.

You hum, swinging your legs over the bench and sitting up. Blood rushes from your head and you lean back against your palms. Kuroo lowers himself to sit next to you.

“Daichi forces me to limit my rotations on the guard towers and patrols,” you answer. “When we first found this place and cleaned it out, I was working overtime and made myself sick. Him and Kiyoko have been conspirators against me ever since.”

Your fingers thrum against your thigh as you say this. You feel more than see Kuroo’s eyes on them.

“They love you,” he points out, a little unnecessarily.

You snort.

“Love is expensive nowadays and everyone in the Pit is broke.”

“You love them back even more.”

You glare at him but he is just looking at you, tracing the planes of your face. A frown tugs at your lips.

“How are you feeling?”

Kuroo rolls his shoulders experimentally, stretching his arms above his head.

“Better,” he affirms. “More like myself.”

“A nosy busybody who talks like a grandpa?”

“Exactly.”

He is grinning now and you have to fight to keep yourself from returning the expression.

The bruises on his face are yellow now. You estimate it will only take a couple more weeks of regular meals for his face to fill out and his skin to look youthful again. You don’t bother asking him how long he had been alone, what happened to his family. None of that matters now. The apocalypse is a great equalizer.

“I talked to Takeda and Kiyoko this morning,” you begin, leaning your head back and closing your eyes against the sun. “They agreed to give you another week before putting you on guard rotation.”

“I would appreciate that. I want to earn my keep, however I can.”

A ghost of a smile dances across your lips.

“You’re just bored,” you tease. It’s been a long time since you felt sleepy and loose enough to tease anyone.

“You say that now, but newbies get the shittiest schedule possible,” you warn him, unsure why you’re telling him this. “Be prepared. Once you’re back to top form, we’ll discuss sending you on patrols for medicine and expanding that garden of Suga’s.”

There’s silence but it’s comfortable, easy. You let yourself enjoy it for just a few moments before standing, opening your eyes and offering Kuroo a full smile and your hand.

As he shakes it, looking only a little confused, you wonder how much longer he would have survived on his own in the city.

“Welcome to the Pit,” you say before turning on your heel and walking away.

~~~

Nightmares are as plentiful as soil on Suga’s fingers.

A sliver of moonlight is all that keeps you from sinking into the darkness, skin clammy, chest heaving. Your fingers twist into the sheets. A prayer is whispered that you didn’t scream this time. You can’t bear the thought of Kiyoko running again, feet bare, knife in hand and tears glistening on her cheeks. Her utter, pure relief haunted you for a month.

It would be so easy, you think, to never get up again.

Kiyoko would care for you. Daichi would stop by, every day, and update you. Ukai would read to you, probably, or nap in your cell, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

These are the thoughts that force you up, out, stumbling into your worn boots, shrugging a jacket on.

Takeda finds you in the office hours later, hunched over inventory reports in his neat handwriting, hair pulled back. He puts a pot of coffee on and hands you a steaming mug, holding a hand out for the report you’re struggling to understand.

“Winter is coming,” you sigh as you hand it over. He doesn’t ask about the shadows beneath your eyes, doesn’t comment on the fact that it’s barely six-thirty in the morning and you’ve clearly been awake for a number of hours.

A smile quirks at his lips.

“I didn’t know Tanaka managed to get the TV’s up and running,” he jokes. You wave your hand in a vague gesture, taking another sip of the liquid heaven in your hand.

“We need to get winter supplies,” you answer and that sobers him up. He nods, slowly, eyes roving the paper.

“Winter isn’t for over six months,” he reminds you. An eyebrow is raised. A teacher, waiting for an explanation. In moments like these, you see the high school teacher that you’d found barricaded in his office, babbling a stream of students’ names that Daichi had quietly whispered as your group cut them down, reading them off their uniforms.

On Takeda’s worst nights, as you guarded the door to his cell, you’d heard those same names, apologies and nonsensical gibberish streaming from his mouth as he grappled with his dreams and feverish tremors.

You stand, stretching, before stepping in front of a map of the city that Suga had snagged on one of his patrols. It’s huge, taking up an entire wall. Little markers litter the paper, different colors, and you run your finger over the pale blue ones in the northeast corner.

“There’s a limited supply of winter clothes in the city. I don’t want other groups getting to it first - we don’t need that bastard holding it over our heads when we have food and they don’t,” you remind him. Your arms cross behind your back automatically. “With the snows, we’ll need snow boots. The kids need jackets and thermals. We need to completely outfit the prison’s entire water supply system to last through snowstorms. We need hot water before then or half of us are going to be too sick, and the other half will be taking care of them. We need medicine, too.”

You tick off each item on your fingers, pausing to consider if you’ve missed something. You’re probably missing ten somethings and you struggle to see what they are. You need more coffee.

Takeda is twenty-nine, but when you turn to look at him finally, he seems sixty, glasses dangling from his fingers, nose bridge pinched between his knuckles.

He mutters something suspiciously close to a curse under his breath before opening his eyes.

“You’re right,” he admits. “We’re going to need at least seven months to prepare.”

The morning is a whirlwind. You send the youngest children, always the earliest risers, to fetch Daichi and Kiyoko, both much more bright-eyed than they have any right to be. Takeda drags a yawning Ukai into the office moments later and Tanaka slouches after them. Suga pokes his head in to give you a little wave and knowing smirk that everyone else finds nonthreatening before ushering the children to the cafeteria for their breakfast.

You’re positive you’re not imagining the pale pink coating Daichi’s cheeks.

After explaining the situation, everyone sucks in a collective breath.

Tanaka never sits and always faces a door. From his corner of the room, he glowers at the map.

“Well, fuck,” he neatly summarizes. You nod your appreciation for his conciseness.

“We need to get a hold of meat,” Ukai points out. A something you had missed.

You grab a marker and the portable whiteboard Takeda had grabbed a few weeks ago. In neat characters, you begin documenting everything thrown around the table.

“Raising livestock will be another way to keep the little ones busy.”

“We can’t ask people to shower in cold water during winter, that’s cruel.”

“Tanaka, is there any way to get the heating system up and running by then?”

“What about air conditioning? We have to get through the summer to get to winter, and heat is just as likely to kill us.”

“If other groups realize what we’re doing, we could be in trouble.”

A headache is brewing somewhere behind your temples and you bite back a groan. Kiyoko pushes a cool water bottle into your hand and you know she isn’t fooled for one second.

“I think we’re missing someone here,” Kiyoko points out mildly after what feels like an eternity of circular conversation. All eyes turn to her and she’s unruffled, fingers still wrapped around her mug.

“Kuroo could be a huge help to a lot of this,” she continues. “I’m sure he can help Tanaka and Noya with everything on their list, and we need more able-bodied men on the patrols anyway. He can help us with medicine, our food supply, all of it.”

A furtive glance in Tanaka’s direction is not encouraging. He’s glowering, eyes hooded.

“We barely know him,” Tanaka hisses. You have to privately agree.

“We barely know each other,” Ukai shoots back. “We’ve been here, what, three months?”

“He hasn’t even been on a patrol yet and you want him helping us make important decisions that affect everyone, including the kids?”

“That’s unfair, and you know it, Tanaka,” Takeda says patiently, but somehow reproachfully at the same time. “Kuroo has been in no condition to patrol. The man was emaciated.”

Takeda continues, levying everyone at the table with a stern face.

“We all trust each other now because we took the gamble and brought people in and allowed time to prove it. It was always a risk, and it will always be a risk, but we can’t let that stop us. What we’re doing here is more important than just working together to survive.”

It’s a flowery, nice sentiment, to be expected from a literature teacher, and you barely hold back a snort at Ukai’s warning look.

“None of this matters,” you cut in. “Takeda’s right. And so is Kiyoko. He could be a huge help to you specifically, Tanaka, and he’s getting better every day but we have to give him time before he’s physically ready. You saw him when we brought him in – he was skin and bones.”

Tanaka subsides into grumbling acceptance and you take it as a win.

Daichi returns with Kuroo in tow just minutes later, and if Kuroo is at all confused, he doesn’t show it. He folds himself into a chair, all long limbs and wide feet.

The problems are laid out on the table again. You watch as Kuroo absorbs it, eyes narrowed, flicking sometimes to the map on the wall.

“Frankly, I wish we were in an apartment building,” Tanaka reveals after an hour of debating the best way to acquire livestock.

You sigh, rubbing the heel of your hand into your eyes hard enough to see colors. You know it’s not Tanaka’s fault, that he’s saying out loud something you’d privately thought before. That the electrical systems in apartment buildings would be much easier for him to coax into submission.

But you’re tired. Kiyoko is rubbing the old wound on her shoulder again, Ukai’s fingers are tapping a loud rhythm on the table, and Daichi is watching you lose your mind with that same placid smile in place.

“I wish the apocalypse didn’t happen and we all didn’t have nightmares every damn night, but here we are,” you snap. “I wish we were all cozy in furnished apartments right now, too, and I wish we didn’t have to talk about these things.”

You wish the children didn’t have to hold knives, you wish Suga would stop forcing you to eat, you wish you could forget your mother’s laugh, you wish and wish and wish.

Tanaka’s mouth is open and Daichi is sighing, rubbing a hand over his face. Kuroo’s eyes are expressionless and he just looks like he’s waiting, though for what, you can’t even begin to guess.

You find that you don’t have the energy to regret the words, so you barrel on.

“The apartment buildings are stacked with nightstalkers. It would take weeks to clear even one out, and we would lose people. Guaranteed. We lost one person clearing this prison out and that —”

You’re cut off by a strange choking noise in your throat. The memory of Ennoshita is sweet, cloying, poisonous. Takeda looks pale and strained at the mention of it. His last student.

Your voice is pitched low when you manage to blink away traitorous tears. The sound of your chair scraping is loud and grating against your ears as you stand. They all watch you silently. Waiting.

“Ennoshita is buried here,” you say and the surprise on their faces is almost insulting. “So is Ayasaki’s little girl. We have a life here, one we built and fought for. The kids love it here, it’s as safe as it can get, and it’s isolated from the turf wars in the city. You know why we chose this place, you were part of the vote that decided it, Tanaka.”

Deep breath in. Out.

“I know I’m asking for a lot, but it’s necessary, and we’re all up to the task simply because we have to be.”

As far as motivational speeches go, you’re sure this is ranked pretty low. But Daichi straightens and Kuroo’s eyes are gleaming as he stares at you. Kiyoko is almost smiling and you take that into both of your hands and hold on for dear life.

“I have to protect them.”

Everyone in the room opens their mouth at pretty much the same time but Ukai beats them all to the punch with his lazy drawl.

“You’re a moron,” he sneers. “An absolute idiot if you think you’re doing any of this alone. Now run along and get some breakfast before Suga drags you there by your hair.”

~~~

It doesn’t surprise you when Kiyoko finds you later, on the roof, scribbling half-mad ideas into a plain notebook. She always knows where to find you.

“I think you should stay home tomorrow,” she says without preamble. The word home nearly sends you stumbling off the roof.

“Why? Am I dying and I don’t know it?” you ask dryly. The look she levels at you nearly makes your heart stop.

“We agreed to let Kuroo go tomorrow,” she explains, settling into the spot next to you, peering curiously at the notebook in your hand. “But you haven’t been sleeping and we can’t afford to lose you because you’re too tired to stand properly.”

You scowl. Damn the four eyes. Her and Takeda know too much for their own good.

“I’m fine,” you wave a hand dismissively. “I’ll get some rest tonight, promise.”

She let’s the matter go, which is a point for you, but you watch warily as she opens her mouth again.

“Tanaka is looking for you.”

A sigh.

“I should apologize.”

“That’s what he said.”

A laugh, short and barking, escapes you. Kiyoko smiles at the sound.

“We’re all such idiots.”

[agent-jones]

In Defence of Gwendolyn Elizabeth Cooper

Okay, I want to start this out with a few DISCLAIMERS. First, this is probably going to be a long post, so buckle in. Second, I just want to say upfront that I DO NOT CONDONE the mistakes Gwen has made. Defending and understanding her are far different from actually condoning what she’s done and I figured I would put that blanket statement right here at the top. I know she did Bad Things. This isn’t to excuse that, it’s to explain, maybe, why she did what she did and perhaps people can gain a new perspective on Gwen Cooper in the process.

Okay. Leggo.

I asked for people to send their reasonings for not liking Gwen and I did get a few responses, so THANK YOU to those who messaged me! Everyone was very polite about it and I’m very grateful for that. The overwhelming reason people seem to hate Gwen is how she acted in regards to her relationship with RHYS. There is a lot to unpack there so I’m going to put all of the Rhys stuff in one section, and then move on to the other reasons I’ve seen about the fandom.

Rhys

Cheating on Rhys with Owen.

The thing about Torchwood is that they deal with the shittiest parts of the Universe. Suzie was right about that. Gwen came in not really knowing what she was getting herself into. Suddenly, she’s thrown into this chaotic, messy environment where she’s almost killed on basically a daily basis and she comes home from work and she can’t talk about it. She has to pretend to Rhys that she spent the day pushing paperwork, when actually the deadliest alien in the Universe tried to cut her head open with scary conversion tools and a member of their team ended up being the reason for it. She deals with trauma on a daily basis and the one person she should be able to talk to, who should be able to hold her and let her fall apart to him, isn’t allowed to know. Of course she feels isolated, wouldn’t you? Our partners are supposed to be the people we go to for support and help, but she literally cannot tell him a single thing about her life anymore. But she gets home and she has to it there and think about everything that scares her and all of the horrible things she sees, the death and destruction and tragedy, and she can’t say a single thing about it.

So, of course the idea of being with someone she can talk to is tempting, being with someone who shares her experiences and can truly empathise with her fears and help her through this new, and tragedy-filled, way of life. Why wouldn’t she want that? Owen offers it. Owen. Who knows she has a boyfriend, who literally says “I torture people in happy relationships,” comes to her and says “you can share these things with me.” And lost and unable to talk to anyone else but him, she gives into the temptation. Because, maybe this is better for her than having a partner who can’t be allowed to know the new Gwen Cooper: Torchwood Operative. Maybe she can finally have someone who will hold her and help her through things she can’t share with her boyfriend.

Flirting with/“Throwing herself at” Jack

Not going to lie, this one really bugs me when I see it. Why? Because Jack Harkness instigates pretty much every flirtation they have. The gun range scene: Jack sensually moving against her body to “show her the proper way to shoot.” Kiss Kiss Bang Bang: that cellar scene, where he caresses her arm and gives her this line about coming back for her [ after he had just said the same thing to Ianto so ]. Her wedding: the nostrovite was the one to lean in to kiss Gwen, the one to say “sometimes you meet someone who knocks your world off--” whatever the wording is. That nostrovite, using Jack, knew that he flirts with her like that, for it was the one making all of the moves. 

Jack is this enigmatic, BEAUTIFUL man who swoops into the life of Gwen Cooper, shows her that the Universe is bigger than anyone could imagine, and flirts with her, looks at her like she’s the most special human being on Earth. It’s no surprise she got a crush. It happens. But never, does she throw herself at him, in fact he always seems to be the one trying to do something, even though he also knows she has a boyfriend and consistently reminds her to keep hold of that life. Yes, she kissed him in Day One. But you know who else kissed Jack Harkness even though she had a boyfriend? Martha Jones. People make mistakes. It was the heat of the moment where Jack saved this girl that Gwen cared for and was so scared was going to die, she saw Jack act gentle and kind and yes, she made a mistake. But, it happens.

If you’re going to crucify Gwen for making very human mistakes such as this, it’s unfair to crucify her and not the men who played just as big of a role in it. They’re in no way innocent and to turn Gwen into this horrid, cheating slut and not condemn the men for knowingly throwing themselves at her despite her relationship status is really, quite frankly, sexist and a double-standard. 

Drugging Rhys

A horrible decision. Wrong. Yes, she did something incredibly invasive and absolutely not okay. She did it because she was spiraling. The thing with Owen had ended and I truly believed Gwen realised that she needed and loved Rhys, that he was the man for her and she needed to hold onto that. But, she was still holding back secrets, there were still things she couldn’t tell him. She was feeling guilty and wanted to tell Rhys the truth. But, if he left her because of it? That’s it. She loses her life outside of Torchwood, she loses the one thing keeping her grounded on Earth as the Universe tears into her at work. Of course she’s terrified and yes, it made her do something incredibly not okay. She took away Rhys’s ability to choose for himself.

She shows remorse for this, obviously, when she refuses to retcon Rhys at the end of Meat. She won’t do that to him again, won’t take away his right to know what he knows. And then again at their wedding. Jack offers them both retcon and Gwen says no, no secrets anymore. In that moment, Rhys’s face almost seemed disappointed that they weren’t going to forget that hellish day, that maybe he wanted to remember it in a way that didn’t involve aliens and their families almost being torn to shreds. But, Gwen has learned from her mistake. She won’t do it again.

Also. Gwen is not the only team member who has done something like that, in fact they all have:

Owen: took away the agency of two people by spraying them with a perfume that made them want to have sex with him. Two people who didn’t want to before they were drugged. That is date r*** and it is very bad. But, Owen is forgiven by the fandom for it. He’s loved and not bashed.

Jack: literally retcons anyone who talks to him for too long.

Tosh: dug around in the inner-most private thoughts of the people around her, invaded the deepest crevices of their minds and peered in on their secrets. This is absolutely not okay.

Ianto: clearly took advantage of and manipulated Jack in order to save Lisa. Got two innocent people killed, nearly got the entire team killed, and then allowed Jack to be given to slave traders and killed, before changing his mind and rescuing him. These are really horrible things, and yet he is the fan favourite. 

Gwen has done no more wrong than the rest of the team. This is the point of Torchwood: flawed human beings doing what they can to save the world and that “flawed” descriptor is for Gwen too. 

“She’s a Bitch”

Oh I’ve heard this one a few times and it always confuses me. She’s a bitch? When? When was Gwen ever mean to anyone? 

When she thought the thing about Tosh’s boots over jeans look being out of fashion? First, it was her private thought that Tosh had no business listening to. Second, it wasn’t thought in a mean-spirited way, she was simply making a fashion observation. We all do it. It does make us bitches to point out when things have gone out of fashion. Tosh was more of a bitch to Gwen when she found out about her and Owen in Countrycide “didn’t take you long to get your feet under the table.” That’s a bitchy and petty thing to say, but no one is calling Tosh a bitch.

Is she ever a bitch to Rhys? Not that I remember [ of course beyond the everything up there ]. But, there are moments where Rhys is a total ASS to her. Her new boss runs up to her saying there’s an emergency and that she’s needed, what does Rhys do? He screams at her “SIT THE FUCK DOWN, GWEN”  in front of her boss. That is not an okay thing to do, ever. Then, there’s the moment in Adrift when he says something like “sometimes I really hate you, Gwen.” He says this to his wife because she’s going through something very hard on her that is making her question the Universe and because it’s swaying her decision on if she wants to bring kids into the world, he says he hates her. At this point, he knows what she sees, knows what she goes through on a daily basis and doesn’t bother to take into consideration that she’s stressed and traumatised when trying to get her to make huge life decisions.

Gwen has emotions, but she’s never flat out mean to people, but there have been times where others have been cruel to her, and they aren’t hated for it.

“What she said at the end of Meat was uncalled for”

This is what she says:

GWEN: But none of you have any partners outside of this. JACK: But we understand how you feel. GWEN: No, you don't. No, you don't, Jack. You all think it's cold and lonely out there. But it isn't for me because I have him. 

She isn’t wrong. She doesn’t say anything cruel about the team. She points out the fact that they can’t understand what it’s like to have to hide her ENTIRE life from her partner. Jack and Ianto have a relationship, they’re partners yes, but they can actually talk about how hard the job is, they can talk about Torchwood and the shit they see and how it affects them. Is it so wrong for Gwen to say they can’t understand how she feels that she can’t? The entire team apart from her have been so entwined with Torchwood for so long that they don’t have lives outside of it, and that’s what she’s saying and she’s not wrong. Why hate her for pointing out the truth because she wants to be able to talk to the person she loves about the harder parts of her life?

“She acts superior to the team”

This one I see a lot. That people seem to think she somehow acts like she’s better than them, that she acts righteous somehow. But, that’s not what she’s doing. I’ve made a post about this before, but I’ll sum it up here. Jack hired Gwen because he needed someone with a new perspective, someone who could see how what they do affects civilians and help them use that to work better. He brought her in to remind them that they need to do better by the people of Cardiff. 

And that’s what she does,

She calls them out for being callous about Carys because that’s what Jack hired her for. The girl was dying and to her, it seemed like they didn’t care and so she spoke up, like Jack had asked her to do. She realises that she’s wrong in a way and she adjusts how she goes about it. Jack consistently reminds her why she was brought on, to call them out when they needed it and to remind them that there are human beings that are affected by what they do and they should care. And then when she does that, the fandom hates her for it. Don’t hate her for doing the job she was brought in to do.

Her Miracle Day speech

The Gwen in Miracle Day is not the same Gwen who peered over that parking garage barrier to spy on Torchwood. She saw the worst of the Universe, she watched as so many people died around her. Her friends all died horrific deaths. She was yanked by Jack into this whirlwind of a life, into the chaos and destruction that was Torchwood-- and then he left her. 

GWEN: Are you ever coming back, Jack? JACK: What for? GWEN: Me. 

He says nothing and leaves anyway. She begged her best friend to not leave her, after the last of her friends was killed, and he basically said she wasn’t worth staying for. How could she not be broken after that? As two people very close to me have said [ credit to @cxptained​ and @agent-sato​ ]: everyone else on the team was brought into Torchwood already broken, Torchwood took them in and put them back together again. Gwen came into Torchwood whole. She had a life and was happy. She lived, but she was SHATTERED. Torchwood took her and broke her. 

So yes, she says something that is horrible. She says that when everyone else died and she survived, she felt better than them. But sometimes we have thoughts that we don’t control, we have thoughts that we know are wrong. She knows it’s wrong. Eve’s acting? You can tell that she had those thoughts and that she felt horrible for having them.

Not to mention, she says this as she’s trying to get her baby daughter back from strangers who have kidnapped her. She’s desperate and terrified and angry and her daughter is in danger. Her mental space is horrible right now. She was abandoned by Jack, broken by Torchwood and when he appears again and she’s dragged back in? Her daughter is put in danger. But she also missed Torchwood and Jack. She’s terrified and lost and conflicted and she said something bad. But she knows she is wrong.

And So...

Gwen Cooper is a human being. She is a character in a show where ALL of the main characters are written to be flawed and complicated and to make mistakes while saving the world. She was put through so much and it seems as though she’s blamed for the fact that it changed her and led her to making decisions she may not have made had Torchwood not dragged her in.

She deserves more than how she’s treated by the fans.

[paperficwriter]

Garou x Reader: Nobody is Good At This

A continuation of the series, picking up where the last fic left off. You can also read the whole series on AO3!

Cut is for length, not for content.

His name is Tenchi, he’s very nice, and he’s the thirteenth date you’ve been on in three months since Garou left your apartment.

Your therapist has been cheering you on all the way. “You deserve to be happy,” she says. “You don’t need to center yourself around someone who treats you like a rotating door.”

You’ve wanted to tell her that it’s not like that. That it’s not like Garou has used you. In fact, that’s never been the case. You’ve just stumbled into each other’s lives a few times, you caught feelings, and...and you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since. Which you know isn’t healthy or good, and you know that if he thought of you as much as you thought of him he might at least try to come by or something, but…

You also can’t exactly tell her that he’s probably involved in less-than-savory activities, since you’ve run into him twice in states of, uh, disrepair.

Where is he now? Is he okay? Whole? That eye had looked so bad...and he seems terrible at taking care of himself...and--

“So...what do you say?”

Holy shit, how long has Tenchi been talking? Fuck!

You force out a laugh. “Oh my god, would you believe I was a thousand miles away? About what? Sorry. I’m so sorry. One more time, please.”

“I said, um…” Wow, he looks like he really doesn’t want to repeat this. You are a colossal asshole. “How about I walk you up to your apartment, and we can hang out some more? Maybe have a beer?”

Not this again. How many other dates have moved into this terrible dialogue? Seven? “I don’t really do late-night drinking.”

“What about tea?”

You squeeze your eyes closed. He’s going to think you’re crazy. Don’t say it. Just say ‘no.’ You can do that. “I don’t do tea.” And there it is.

Now it’s his turn to laugh in a way that sounds super awkward and fake. “You don’t do tea? Who doesn’t do tea?”

You’re more than aware that he doesn’t mean anything by it, but a white hot little lightning bolt of anger hits your spine. “I mean it, okay. I just don’t. Daytime, nighttime, anytime.”

“Okay! Okay, I’m sorry, I just…” He scratches at the back of his neck. Somehow you’ve made it back to the stoop of your building, and you’re literally a foot and a half from freedom. “I thought we were having a good time.”

“We were! We are!” Asshole, asshole, asshole. “In fact, we’ve had such a good time that I kind of want to save some of the good for the next time and let it die at a high point, you know?” 

“Really?” His eyes brighten. Yup. You are not just an asshole but also the shittiest asshole. 

The end-of-the-night ritual commences, and you let it. He’s moving in for the kiss, and you turn your head as gracefully as you can. He pecks your cheek, and he seems satisfied, and you smile, and he says he’ll text soon, and you say awesome, and you both say goodnight. He says it twice, in that stuttery, over-the-shoulder way. 

You’re finally inside, and you breathe a huge sigh of relief. Finally, it’s all over. Naturally, by the time you get to the second floor, he’s texted you, and you ignore it. What you can’t ignore is a squatting creature just above the landing on the next set of stairs, holding the bars and peering at you.

“Who the fuck was that dickhead?”

You scream so loudly that it echoes through the whole building. In fact, you nearly crumble on the stairs, you’re so startled, fairly certain that your heart is about to burst out of your chest. In the two seconds it takes to resolve your breathing, you realize it’s not a demon or a goblin but… “Garou! Oh my god, where have you been?”

Using his pinky, he picks at his ear. His eye is back to normal, and his hair is that silverish white, like it was before. Maybe a little shorter. “I certainly haven’t been on any dates.”

Your shoulders slack, and you stare at him. The smile that had been spreading on your face dies a sudden death. Seriously? After how much you’ve thought about him and worried about him, this is what your first interaction is like? “Dude. Are you jealous? What are you, fifteen?”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck yourself!” A breath shoots out your nose as you shove your hands in your pockets. He stands up as you get to the stairs after circling the landing and shoulder by him. Or rather, you hit the middle of his arm with your shoulder because he’s still stupid tall. “And he’s nice, okay? It was fun, and normal, and he didn’t give me a nosebleed by slamming into me full force on the sidewalk, and I didn’t find him beat up to hell, so. There’s that.”

“Feh.” He’s following you. You can hear his footfalls just barely, and in your peripheral vision you can see him walking with his hands behind his head. “Sounds like a grade-A loser.”

“He was nice!”

“Is that all you can say about him? He’s nice? Can you even tell me one other thing about him?”

You open the door to your floor and walk down the hall, pretending that all your focus has to be applied to your keyring. You try to chew back the pout on your face because...you can’t. You don’t have an answer. Three hours and banal conversation later, and you don’t actually know anything about him at all. Well, you know one thing, and it’s lame, but you say it anyway. “He likes sushi.”

Garou leans against the wall, arms folded over his chest. He’s still in the same outfit. Does he own any other clothes? Does he own any looser clothes? “Are you saying that because you two went to a sushi restaurant?” 

Yes. “No!”

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. You don’t know him, I don’t know you, so. I’m just going to go.”

Suddenly, your chest feels like it’s caving in. “Wait, what?” He’s leaving. Oh god, he’s leaving again. “What do you mean, you’re going?”

The thing that hurts the most is how casual he seems. Like this doesn’t actually bother him at all. “You’re with some other guy. And you made this big thing about me coming back to have tea and you don’t even like tea, so...what else is there?”

“Garou…”

“It’s not a big deal. Whatever.” He’s walking away. He’s not even running. It’s nothing. It’s…

As easy as walking through a rotating door.

“I fucking love tea, okay?!”

The second you yell those words, you regret it. You regret how loud it comes out. You regret how hurt you sound, and how your voice breaks. You regret everything. But you also just can’t stop.

“I love tea. I used to drink tea all the time. Yeah, I know, who doesn’t? But I stopped because…” You’re going to cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. “Because everytime I started making it, I would think about how you weren’t there to have it with me, and what if...what if I drank it and somehow that made you never, ever come back? And you’re right, I don’t know him, okay? I went on a date with him, and I couldn’t even be there with him, because the whole time I was thinking about you. You...a fucking...jerk. Who doesn’t bother to know my number or come to my place or...or...”

Garou is staring at you. He’s staring at you as you start crying like a stupid baby in the hallway, and you should just go into your apartment so this entire night will be behind you, and you’re away from all thirteen guys and girls you’ve met over the so many weeks, and away from Garou, but…

Instead you stand there, watching tears land on your boots, until arms go around your shoulders and a pointed chin sits on the top of your head. “Knock it off. Come on, don’t do that.”

“Shut up…” You try to tell yourself you don’t like this. Even as you reach out and grab his shirt at the chest.

“Don’t cry. I hate it.” His voice is soft, and cool fingertips touch your cheeks. “You’re messing up your whole dumb face.”

“You’re dumb.” You sniff, and it sounds absolutely disgusting. Wet and slimy.

“Gross.”

“I swear to god, if you don’t fucking hug me, I’ll kill you.”

“Okay, okay.” Garou actually pulls you in to his body. There’s so much muscle, and he doesn’t seem used to this at all. His arms are too long, and it feels like he’s literally about to say ‘there, there.’ You actually have to laugh.

“You suck so much at this.”

“Don’t get my shirt dirty with your slobber.”

You press your face into the middle of his chest, until his pulse is punching you between the eyes. “I really, really missed you. Please don’t leave again.”

He keeps holding on until you stop crying entirely. Finally, you get into the apartment, and you take him with you. He follows you into the kitchen, and at last you start the water warming up again while he hops up and sits on the counter. You rest your head in his lap and watch the steam rise from the corner of your eye, and his fingers stroke your hair back. You sigh softly.

“How can you be such a rotten hugger but be awesome at this?”

His thumb circles your cheek, and you can hear a smile in his voice. “Well. This I learned from you.”

That’s right.

Regretfully, you pull away when the water finally finishes, and you put in the tea to steep. You turn around to get cups, but he’s standing right there, tall, staring into your face intensely. You...don’t know how to feel about the way he’s looking at you. “If you really didn’t know him all that well, why did you let him kiss you?”

You feel your face flush. “It was just a kiss on the cheek. Move, I’m trying to get into the cabinet.”

“I want to kiss you on the cheek.” Oh god, he’s so intense, why is he so intense?!

“No. I’m still mad at you.”

“Fine.” He nods, resolute. “Not on the cheek then.”

“Fine! So are you going to let me by or--”

You should have known better, but in your defense, you were tired from the night, and how were you supposed to know that he would take that as consent to grab your face in his hands - huge hands, you were doomed from the start - and kiss you? On the mouth. And, like the hug, it’s not perfect. His lips are stiff, and there isn’t much give to them, so it certainly doesn’t sweep you off your feet. But then you touch his face too, tip your head, and when you start kissing back, he picks it all up so damn quick. 

By the time he’s pulled back, you’re clinging to him, and it’s embarrassing how much you’re panting. 

“Am I nice?” he asks.

“No," you lie, "but I still like you more. Against all better judgement. Including my therapist’s.”

“Who needs therapy? I’ve never been to therapy, and I’m--”

“Please just...can we go back to the kissing instead of you finishing that sentence?”

He does, pulling you out of the kitchen entirely and towards the couch, and you’re kissing from under that long body, those endless limbs. The tea’s going to be ruined, but that’s okay. There’s always time for more tea, and who knows how often you’ll get this? 

[universe-n-3276]

Carrying the Moon

Chapter 18

"I can't believe you're making us doing this, just a week before the wedding." "It's not my fault if our shitty landlord got pissed and kicked us out."

It was early March when Jens and Lucas had decided to start looking for a new, larger apartment. They were no longer students and could afford a house that was bigger than a studio. Things had moved very quickly when a flat in Sander and Robbe's building was vacated, and the two boys had immediately rented it. The problems arose when Jens and Lucas told their old landlord that they were leaving. He was so furious that had given them three days to pack their stuff and return the apartment as they had found it. Thus, at that moment, a week before Robbe and Sander's wedding, the four of them (and Hero, of course), were clearing out the small studio together. Robbe and Jens were packing everything up, while Sander and Lucas were painting the walls.

"You don't seem sad to leave, Luc." "Why should I be?" "You got tons of memories here with Jens. It was your first home together." "I share those memories with Jens, who is my home. These four walls are just... walls."

Lucas kept painting the wall, as if he hadn't just said out loud the sweetest thing ever, while Sander looked at him chuckling, thinking about how much his best friend had changed for the better. Hearing that sentence, Jens walked over to Lucas and hugged him tightly. It was nice to hear him talk in that way about their relationship, after all, they had been through during the previous year. Things were back to normal, maybe they were even better than before, now that they had learned to communicate.

"Jens! I have paint all over my clothes. You’ll get dirty." "I don't care."

The boy smiled and pressed his lips to Lucas's, preventing him from arguing. Robbe and Sander gave each other a knowing look, while Hero ran to his uncles, hugging their legs, wanting to be included in that little moment of affection. * It was almost dark outside when they finished carrying the last load of boxes to the new apartment, while the paint was drying. Lucas looked around, with a satisfied expression on his face and smiled.

"This place was trash, but it turned out so cute, eventually. Imagine what I can do with the new apartment." "Sooner or later Robbe and I are going to ask for your help." "Really? I'd be honored."

Taking turns, Lucas and Sander washed themselves in the small bathroom, then wore clothes without paint stains on them, and once finished changing, they found Robbe, Jens, and Hero waiting for them to leave together. Their faces looked tired, but it was understandable since they also had to take care of the child.

"There you are! We’re still on time to hand back the keys to that monstrous man. Let's go."

Lucas put on his beanie and jacket, collected his belongings, and walked out the front door, following Sander and Robbe, who had stopped just past the threshold, to wait for him and Jens. Hero was in his papa's arms and kept yawning adorably. "Hey, baby Hero! I can't wait to see you every day. Jens, c'mon, we're gonna be late." "Lucas, turn around." "Why, did I forget someth-"

When the boy turned around, he saw Jens still in the apartment, kneeling, with a small box in his hand, from which a silver ring peeped out. Lucas gave him a huge smile, as joyful tears were already filling his blue eyes. He couldn't believe what was happening. He didn't feel he deserved it after what he had put Jens through last year, so he had even stopped talking about it a long time before. Lucas slowly approached his boyfriend, still totally incredulous, and reached out to gently caress his cheek.

"We had a plan. Remember? During our first year of university, when you left for Utrecht, and we broke up, I told you how I had always imagined things would go between us, and then, when we got back together, you told me, you wanted that life too. " "We were supposed to live together in the smallest and shittiest flat for a few years, and then you were supposed to..."

Lucas recited those words by heart, not daring to continue. How could he forget that message? He'd reread it so many times, with his eyes full of tears when he and Jens were no longer together, and over the years he'd always checked it back to see if what he was doing, met all the items on that list. It was his compass, and the fact that it was the same for Jens filled his heart with joy. Despite the quarrels and breakups, they were truly soulmates.

"I was supposed to ask you to marry me, yes. I'm glad you remember. That list is one of the most precious memories I have, and I hope we can make happen everything written on it. We met at 14, but the day my life changed forever, was that day at the skate-park. I remember you were sad because you lost the train to get to your mama in Utrecht. We were sitting next to each other, and I finally got the courage to hold your hand. You immediately snuggled to my side, as if it was the most natural thing to you. I wanted to be that close, for the rest of my life. I know you remember that day, I know you also remember the secrets we told. That day you became my best friend, Lucas, because I felt free to be myself, all of myself, for the first time. I want to spend the rest of my life with my best friend, and I wanna die with you at 150 years old while holding your hand. So, Lucas van der Heijden, will you marry me?" "Yes, yes, yes."

Jens stood up and Lucas immediately threw himself into his arms, making their lips collide, completely forgetting about the ring, which ended up on the floor. Jens lifted him, and the other wrapped his legs around his waist. They looked at each other for a few seconds, laughing through their tears, both a little incredulous at what had just happened. A little more in love, than they were five minutes before. When Hero saw the faces of his uncles filled with tears, fearing that they were both in pain, he began to sob. Sander and Robbe started laughing because their baby was ruining one of their best friends' most romantic moments, and it was absolutely comical. Robbe was able to catch his breath first, trying to console Hero as best he could.

"Baby, don't cry. Everything’s fine." "Boo-boo." "I know it sounds weird, but I promise they are not hurt. Look, they are both smiling!"

Meanwhile, Jens had put Lucas down and retrieved the ring from the floor, finally putting it on his fiance’s finger. Lucas watched him for a moment. He wanted to pinch himself. What he was experiencing couldn't be real. He couldn't be that lucky. The boy looked up at Jens who had the most beautiful smile painted on his face, and kissed him on the lips, giving him one last hug, before taking his hand and dragging him to the child who was still crying his eyes out.

"Don't worry, Hero. We’re never been happier in our life. Come here and hug your uncles."

* After congratulating the happy couple, Sander, Robbe, and Hero returned home. The child was so tired and nervous that making him feel comfortable, during the drive back, had been a nightmare. It was almost eight in the evening, and usually, by then, he was already in bed. Robbe held Hero in his arms, while Sander was searching for the key to open the front door.

"They were so cute. I've never seen Jens so happy." "But my proposal was better, right?" "I don't know, I mean, Jens got on his knee."

"I’m sorry if I was so nervous I couldn't stand!" "If you say so."

Robbe threw a skeptical look at Sander but then smiled, passing him by and entering the house. He put Hero on the floor and began to take off his jacket, when something unusual caught his attention, making him frown.

"Baby, did you left the lights on?" "No, I didn't."

Sander immediately became more alert, hearing noises coming from inside the apartment. He had never dealt with such a situation, or at least, this was the first time he found himself being the adult who had to manage it. He took his phone from his pocket, ready to call the police if necessary.

"Maybe it's your mama." "I'll go check inside. You stay here with Hero."

Before Robbe could add something to object, a person came out of the kitchen, and for the boys, it was like seeing a ghost. Their worst nightmare was standing in front of them, even though nothing was threatening on the girl's face. On the contrary, she was smiling, clearly embarrassed by that situation. Robbe instinctively took Hero in his arms, hugging him and Sander stood in front of both of them as if to protect his family.

"Hi." "Charlotte, what are you doing here? You scared us." "I'm sorry, I still had my key, and I knew you were living here, but I needed a place to stay while I'm back."

The girl shifted her gaze to Robbe, and then, hesitantly, allowed herself to look at the child who was staring at her. Charlotte shook her head, thinking of all those stories about the bond between a mother and his child. If she had seen that baby walk casually down the street, she probably wouldn't have even recognized him. It was as if the newborn, she had left, over a year ago, and the baby in front of her wasn't even the same person. She smiled because from the way the little boy was holding on tight to Robbe, Charlotte realized that blood ties are nothing if they are not nurtured every day, with love and affection. She had given birth to that child, yet they were two strangers, however, Robbe, who didn’t share a tiny part of his DNA with him, was everything for that kid.

"He grew up so much. He looks just like you, Sander." "That’s what everyone says." "Robbe, please, you don’t have to hold him that way, I won’t try to steal him." "I'm sorry, but this is just too weird. I’ll let you and Sander talk. Hero needs to eat and bathe."

Robbe took Hero away, and Charlotte waved at him, receiving the same gesture in return from the baby, who was still looking at her with curiosity, as he was sucking on his pacifier. The two disappeared into the kitchen, and the girl kept looking in that direction until Sander's voice brought her back to reality.

"Let's go to the living room, so we can sit."

The twins walked side by side to the living room. The silence between them was strangely embarrassing, and for both of them, it was something new. They were used to share everything and to understand each other quickly, even without the need to speak, but at that moment, there was an invisible wall keeping them apart. Neither of them found the other familiar. The way the other talked and moved, it was all new. Nearly two years apart had done much more, than 22 years together. They sat on opposite sides of the sofa and peered at each other, both uncertain about how to start the conversation, they both had imagined so many times.

"Why you're here, Charlotte?" "I wanted to see you before your wedding. I didn’t want to ruin your big day." "Ruin? What do you mean?"

The boy frowned, immediately feeling anxious for those words, and his sister noticed it and nodded as if she had expected such a reaction.

"Calm down, Sander. I just didn't want to appear during the ceremony and make you worry all the time. You should focus on Robbe that day." "I guess, thank you for being so thoughtful then... and for coming back for my wedding." "I promised you, I would be here."

Charlotte instinctively moved her hand closer to her brother's but withdrew it immediately. Sander was still suspicious, and the girl didn't want to force anything, especially because she wanted to explain her reasons, without escalating the discussion. She tried to appear calm, but she had never felt so anxious in front of Sander. During the return trip on the plane, she had made sure to prevent her mind from going in that direction, to avoid spiraling, but it had been difficult.

"I know, but after that letter, everything changed between us." "It wasn’t because of the letter, it was because of what you did." "I had to." "You didn’t ask about my feelings, though. I didn’t want to be a mother. Not at 22 and alone. But leaving him was still so hard for me, Sander. Do you know why I couldn't touch him? Because I knew, if I did, I wouldn't be able to give him up for adoption. I loved him so much. I felt him grow inside of me. I felt butterflies in my belly every time he moved. He kept me alive when Max left me. I owe him so much."

Sander sighed, trying to put himself in his sister's shoes, but failing. Hearing all those romantic lines coming out of her mouth, made him even angrier. He didn't understand how she could have left him. How anyone could even think of letting go of that perfect child, he had loved to death from the very first moment.

"But you left him, eventually, and I couldn’t. Even if I didn’t feel him grow inside of me. I just couldn't, Charlotte. When I hold him, I know I did the right thing. I can't imagine my life being any different. You loved him, yes, but I love him every day, he’s my son, and Robbe’s, of course."

Although Sander's tone sounded harsh, Charlotte was relieved to hear those words. She had always feared that his brother wanted to keep the baby with him, only because he felt compelled to do so. She was afraid that, because of her, he was wasting his youth forever. He was sacrificing his life, fighting a cause that wasn't his own.

"So you didn’t regret anything." "I do regret ruining our relationship, and a couple of other things." "I miss you. Everyday. And if you’re worried about me trying to take away your son, don’t be. I don’t know if I can handle this situation, but I won’t ever do something so awful to you. I’d rather stay away from you forever, than hurt you and Robbe in that way. "

Sander leaned his back against the sofa, suddenly more relaxed. The weight, that had been compressing his chest for nearly two years, had dissolved instantly, after what his sister had said. He no longer had to worry about someone taking Hero away from him and Robbe. He wanted to run to his fiance and share the news, but he decided to wait a few more moments. He smiled gratefully, looking at his sister in the eyes.

"This is the best wedding gift I could ask for." "Me staying away from you?" "What? No." "I was kidding, Sander." "I'm happy my silly Charlotte is back."

Sander closed the distance that separated them and hugged Charlotte for the first time in two years, realizing how much he had missed her, and what it had cost him to be constantly angry with her. It had been two years of restless sleep nights, and anxious stomach aches, which he had only been able to overcome thanks to Robbe's calming presence in his life. But at that moment, he felt as if everything had been blown away, like when after a long pouring rain night, the sun shines again on a new day.

[previous] / [next]

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Sick Little Games: Forty- Three

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you groan.

Clint’s head snapped up from where he was trying to interest Baby Natasha in some cheerios and Banana, but she was more interested in chewing on her hands. “What’s wrong, baby,” he asked.

“This is gonna be the shittiest family reunion,” you answer, taking a deep breath. “Stay here with Nat,” you tell him gently, turning your head to kiss his jaw as he peers out the window over your shoulder. 

Clint nods, watching the black car that rolled to a stop. With the top down, he could see the shape of your mother behind the wheel. He watches you go towards the porch, and through the screen, he can see you standing. Staff in hand on the steps. 

Natasha, sensitive to the moods in the house, fusses, and Clint turns, smiling a little as he picks her up to comfort her. “It’s alright, Little Bit,” he soothes, rubbing her back. “Mommy and Grandma have a complicated relationship,” he explains, “But that’s what happens when you put your kid on a bus to the other side of the country and tell then their evil.”

Natasha looks at him with wide eyes, and Clint kisses her little blonde head, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, baby girl. Mommy and I aren’t gonna let anything like that happen to you. Mommy would tear heaven and Earth apart if it meant you were safe... I just hope she doesn’t kill Grandma to make it happen. It’s hard to get blood out of wood grain.”

The air outside was tense. Like the coming of a violent storm. Thick and oppressive. Clint can feel it, and he knows, from the trembling in Natasha’s lip, that she can too. Her chubby, rosy cheeks are a little pale, and he hugs her closer. Clint wishes he could go stand next to you, but. You’d talked about it often. About protecting Natasha from their hateful influence. And they can’t influence her if they don’t know she exists. No letters. No calls. No contact.

“Mom,” he hears you say, nodding slightly. 

“Y/N,” she starts, “I-I-I you. You look good.”

“Thank you,” you say politely, “Now what do you want?”

“I-” she looks around anxiously, swallowing hard. “Can I come in?”

“No,” you say flatly, “My closest neighbor is 3 miles away. Unless you plan on screamin’, ain’t no one gonna hear you.”

She looks around again, clearly uncomfortable. Clearly feeling the energy whipping through the air, attracted to you and your staff. You’re a woman with presence, and Clint can, in some small way, sympathize. He had felt the ire that roiled through you. The subtle crackle of energy that came with the darkened eyes and set of your jaw. He didn’t need to see your face to know what you looked like now. Hair wild and twisting into dark loops and elf knots, looking down on her like some vengeful goddess. His vengeful goddess. And he counted his blessings that he was not on the receiving end of your anger, however reasonably controlled.

“Family business-”

“Not,” you say, warningly, “My family.” It was at that moment that Natasha broke into a wail, unable to contain the discomfort anymore, despite the security offered from Clint. Despite his arms clutching her close to his chest. 

Your mother looked at you and then at the door, and you glance back over your shoulder, “Bring her here, Clint?” you ask softly. 

Clint nods and walks across the Kitchen, shouldering the old screen door open to bring you your daughter. He wasn’t sure how, if it were magic or just the fact that you were her mom, but. Natasha would always quiet in your arms. When you hold an arm out to take her, she goes smoothly. Hiding her face in your shoulder for comfort. But not before your mother has time to get a look at her face. The blonde hair and blue eyes from Clint and your jawline and delicate nose and cheekbones. And Clint understands why you had him bring her. To save yourself the frustration of having your mom start accusing you of stealing a baby. 

“My-” your mother starts, but you cut her off.

“No,” you say in the same warning tone, “She’s no grandchild of yours. After today, you will not see her again.”

The older woman blanches, and her head falls forward, “Please,” she said, “You have to help me.”

“I have to do no such thing. I tried. Almost three years ago to save the boys. But you and Stirling chose to play dirty.”

She cringed at the memory, “But-”

“Call me a murderer, and I’ll add matricide to my list of sins,” you say calmly.

“And I’ll personally buy the pig we feed you to,” Clint added helpfully, thankful that Natasha was too small to understand you. 

“I need you to save them they-” The woman broke off and choked back a sob. 

“They’re monsters,” you finish. “Made so by your own actions.”

The woman fell to her knees with a wail, and Clint wants to reach for your hand. He knows your heart. And he knows that this is painful. That you kept yourself apart from and new of Stirling’s church. And the boys. But he knows that you need this woman to see you as an immovable force. As stronger than you see yourself. 

It was something you and Clint had discussed often before you got married. Your need to control this. To keep the toxicity from getting back into your life. And he understood. He wanted you to stay out of it. To let them tear themselves apart as they had watched from a distance while you struggled. Pretending you didn’t exist. You deserved better. Natasha deserved better. So watching you now, gazing dispassionately as your mother knelt in the dirt, he didn’t have to try to decipher the tension in your jaw. You were furious. And hurt. And the only reason you weren’t showing your teeth was the baby that was clinging to your shirt, seeking comfort. 

“There is nothing wrong with them that I have the power to fix,” you tell her. “No spirit, no demon, no curse... They are only men. Ment that have been allowed to live in an echo chamber. Men who were never taught how to live. Men who, even if I could help then would want nothing to do with me.”

Your mother looks up at you and wipes tears away, “You evil bitch,” she spat. 

“Always and forever,” you sigh, unmoved. You remember this from before her time as a God-fearing woman. The turn from pleading to posturing. Banking on a fear of her fists to get her way. And reflexively, your grip tightens on your staff. “And now,” you tell her, “It’s time for you to go.”

“Help them!” She screamed, “Help them or I swear to Christ I’ll see you burn!”

Your staff bangs on the wood of the deck making a sound like a gunshot. A bang that sends forth a shimmer of magic that washes over her. Her face contorted in a rage-filled growl. Until suddenly, she looked around dazed. “Where am I?” she asked, eyes unseeing. 

“I’m not sure,” you answer, “But your car will take you home.”

She turns from you with a vague thank you and climbs into the driver’s seat before making her slow, winding way back up the drive. Clint cannot hear the words you speak, but the power behind them makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. “I can’t help the boys. But I can get her out of there.”

“But you sent her home,” Clint said frowning.

“Home. Not back to Stirling,” you clarify.

You kiss your daughter’s head and return her gently to Clint, “I think,” you tell him, “That I’m going to go take a bath. Read for a while.”

He nods and shifts Natasha over, hefting her chubby little body more comfortably against his side, “And Little Bit and I will eat some lunch.”

“Yum,” you chuckle, Kissing his cheek, “Lima beans huh?”

“Absolutely not,” Clint said, “I Only had to have her spit them at me once.”

[sidespromptblog]

Tea

Summary: Listen, I made this while dosed on cough medicine. Don’t expect it to make sense. But basically... Logan spills the tea with Remus. 

“Just what are you doing here?” 

The incredulous voice interrupted Logan’s own musings as he took a sip from his lukewarm tea as he sat amongst a throne of snake plushies as well as yellow and black themed beanbags, it was a very squishy seat and one that Logan was constantly having to readjust himself in. It had almost been fifteen minutes since Deceit had said that he’d be back, and with Deceit’s door wide open, it was only a matter of time before Remus’ curious head popped in looking to make some mischief in the dishonest side’s room before he would make it back. Except, Deceit wasn’t in there, just… Logan, sitting all by his lonesome, sipping at his cup of tea that never seemed to get lower. 

Not exactly Deceit, but he could still make some mischief from this. 

“I believe that Deceit invited me over to ‘share the tea and spill it’ as he put it,” Logan’s voice stopped the duke dead in his tracks as the creative side raised a pierced eyebrow at the very notion. “Although, I don’t quite know why he could want to spill the tea, that would make such a mess in his bedroom, that he would have to the one to clean up and-”

A rough and rather rude snort cut Logan off. 

“What would you know about spillin’ the tea? The most interesting thing I bet you do is catalog imaginary stamps in the order of least colorful to most colorful.” Regardless of his words, Remus plopped down in front of Logan, kicking his feet out and sending one of Deceit’s precious snake plushies flying, until it hit the wall with a resounding splat sound. Even so, despite his chaotic actions, Logan regarded him cooly as if he was no more than a toddler having a temper tantrum. Just that look alone made him want to wipe it off the logical side’s face, maybe with a machete, or with his own mustache as he pinned Logan down against all of these plushies and beanbags and- 

Remus internally hissed at the thought, much preferring the first one that had popped up into his head. Why would such a thing even pop into his head? He didn’t like Logic, in fact, he wanted him dead. Maybe with a baseball bat or a sledgehammer. Maybe he needed a drill, a drill to get all of these stupidly gushy and mushy thoughts out of his head. True… it would make a mess, and Dee would yell at him for hours after doing it but in the very least those stupid thoughts would be gone and out of his head. Despite being a pile on the floor. 

Logan took a loud sip from his cup, before taking a moment to watch it refill itself. “Patton said fuck yesterday.” 

Just like that, every thought that circled around his drill and what he was going to do with it went completely out of the window as his mouth dropped open in a look of overjoyed but unadulterated shock. 

Without even thinking about it, he scooted forward until his knees were flush against Logan’s before summoning a stick of deodorant in his hand, “Tell me more, right now!” He eagerly said, before popping the top off and leaning in eager to hear just how the esteemed moral side had broken down and finally said one of the so-called worst dirty words in all of existence, at least according to Patton. It made his insides writhe like maggots, just at looking at the small but equally proud smirk that curled on Logan’s lips upon seeing the expression on Remus’ face. If he hadn’t of wanted to wipe that look off before using a different means than he normally would have… then he most certainly did right now. 

Confidence looked so very good on the logical side. 

“Oh that’s nothing,” Logan seemed to preen under the positive attention and knowledge that he had the creative side’s ears on him and nothing but him. “You should have seen what happened to Roman yesterday when he went out into the imagination. He came back covered in mud, with worms in his hair. We had to listen to him whine for hours, as Patton picked them out he didn’t know it… but I got pictures.” Setting down his cup, Logan summoned his phone. Scrolling through it for a moment before finally finding the pictures that held the evidence of just what had happened to Roman the previous day, he looked completely and utterly miserable. His usually white uniform completely covered in mud, just like the rest of him. If anything, Logan would have likened it to one big fudge popsicle, except it wasn’t fudge, it was filthy mud that still hadn’t come out of the carpet.

Remus pressed himself against Logan in an effort to see the pictures of his dear brother being knocked down a peg or two, almost seemingly unaware of just how close he was. At least until he opened his mouth glancing back up at Logan, to see just close his proximity had gotten him. Usually by now had it been one of the others, he would have been pushed away with the others wrinkling their nose in disgust claiming that he smelled too disgusting to want close. Which, he couldn’t exactly hold it against them, he did make a habit of making himself as different from Roman as he could possibly be. So instead of smelling like roses, he smells like cabbage that had been left out for a couple of days. So the fact that Logan had even stayed still, and not shoved him away was… telling in a strange kind of way. And for the life of him, he couldn’t stop looking at the logical side. 

His eyes, that held just a hint of the darkest blue in them hidden behind the thick frames of his glasses. That one stupid lock of hair that the logical side tried time and time again to tame, but just couldn’t seem to gel back. And those lips… those perfect lips. He couldn’t stop himself from looking at them, it became a whole lot harder to swallow now that he got a good look at them. He wanted to devour them, and not in the cannibal kind of way.

Logan’s gaze searched his face, and for a second for just a split second, the look in the logical side’s eyes was… vulnerable. Vulnerable in the way that Remus’ seething and fiery dragon-like instincts could only hope to seize it, and add it to his horde forever. To protect, to claim, to hold it forever and ever. It made him want to keep Logan, that look alone in his eyes.

It made him feel things. Disgusting. 

His deodorant fell limply from his fingers, “I want to kiss you,” The words were out before he could even think about it, not that he wouldn’t have said it. It was odd, knowing that he would have said it regardless, or that he would have added a whole rambling sentence before saying such a thing that would make Logan sink out and never come back to the subconscious mindspace again, let alone anywhere near Remus’ disgusting filth. Knowing Logan, which he didn’t… not really, he’d probably prefer Roman and all of his wildly accepted thoughts and feelings. Not.. not whatever Remus would think up and feel, not his unacceptable thoughts and not his unacceptable feelings. None of the sides preferred him, and that was okay it came with his blunt honesty. Nevertheless, Logan’s rejection would at least sting at first. But he could do it, he could get through it and deal with it. With at least a whole lot of sobbing into Dee’s chest, and eating of two gallons of ice cream first. Then he could get over it, but not before then.

Even so, Logan’s head gingerly tilted to the side and already Remus was bracing himself for the worst. The worst of the worst to come, the absolute shittiest worst. Worse than when Virgil had left them with the others, worse than that. Rose thorns tearing apart his heart from the inside, but worse than that too.

“Well… what’s stopping you? I’m right here.” 

A sickening combination of emotions slammed into Remus’ gut, but one thing was for certain as he looked back at Logan. He didn’t hesitate, as his body collided with Logan’s, effectively pinning the nerdy side under him, as he swallowed each and every sound the both of them made with horrible dirty kiss after kiss. By the time that he was done with Logan, his entire body would be covered in hickies for all of the others to see. For all of them to know just who Logan had allowed to kiss him, and for them to know just what dragon had claimed the logical side as a part of his horde now. Their lips met once again as Logan’s arms tangled their way around his waist, only urging him to stay in that position and to never ever move.

He didn’t see it, but at the entrance of his room, Deceit watched with a proud smirk adorning his lips.

Mission success.

[zitkaplushie]

nightwing secret files liveblog:

this is gonna be a long one so it’s under a cut!

taking wing-

is that jason??

i like this 'a christmas carol' type exposition i'm ngl

i'm not sure if 'jason''s dismissal of the circus is dixon using an unreliable narrator, or if dixon actually believes that

god i hate this art so much

how dare u insult the teen titans in any way 😤 i like the name

also titans cameo!!

more awful jason characterisation (pls dixon just stay 8732894738 feet away from jason)

"without robin i have no family" i guess the titans are just chopped liver huh

"i always thought that one day i'd be batman" nope nope nope nope you have 0 understanding of dick's character if that's what you think mr dixon

i love clark having a part in dick becoming nightwing - i adore it - but the way dixon retcons the importance of the titans, and especially kory, in dick becoming nightwing rubs me the complete wrong way. i'm choosing to read this as a between the scenes moment, but i 100% dixon intended this to replace the titans' importance. and the way ppl just swallow it up w/o thinking about the reasons behind why dixon would want to erase the titans - and kory - pisses me off lmao

"i didn't mean to stay so long [with the titans]" *eternal screaming* he really wants to undermine the titans at every possible turn wow

at least the next page acknowledges the importance of kory in dick's life, but right afterwards we have "lmao she must've liked your costume. all the girls did. you're a chick magnet" (paraphrased) and i'm just back to sighing

also hi i'm mad at the framing of babs being the endgame bc of course they'd do that. and also at kory being shorter than dick. thanks! i hate it! i'm willing to bet that dixon asked for that specifically.

"this is where i came in" i'm confused at this part but tbh i don't care enough to think abt it any more

i'm also ughhhh at the way they're trying to give bludhaven importance. i don't care, i don't like it, he should've never moved there

ok i do really like that last page

the fact files things are good enough, i love the art for the haly's circus one! the pt barnum ref is 😬 though (ik ik it's the 90s but fjskdh why)

lost pages: teen titans-

ok so, i don't like devin grayson. i don't like her writing at all, i don't think she gets the characters at all, and hot take: if you dislike a character who's super important part of dick's life, and helped him come into his own and be who he is, you shouldn't be writing that character. (i'm talking about kory here, but tbh if you dislike any of the characters who dick interacts with frequently and are a huge part of his life - especially his love interests, and his family - you shouldn't be writing dick.) so i'm not going into this story with high hopes. however i've seen ppl talk about this story as being really good so i hope i'll like it too

you can tell she mostly cares about the fab five, which wouldn't be a problem if she treated the ntt characters better but alas ://

kory and vic both say 1 thing the entire page lmao

ALSO KORY NOT KNOWING WHAT DAY IT IS IS ABSOLUTE BULLSHIT I CANNOT BELIEVE

i loooove the parallel between dick grasping wally's hand and young!dick holding his dad's hand 🥺🥺🥺🥺

vic legit says one thing the entire story lmaoooooooo 🙃🙃🙃

i love garth and roy being brought to the tower 🥺

this is def some of grayson's better work, but it suffers from the same thing all of her stories do. she doesn't fully understand all the characters. if one character is off it affects the whole story. a lot of her stories have good ideas and poor execution, and this one definitely doesn't have awful execution but there's still something missing and as someone who loves the titans it's just sad. i get why people like this story - it made me tear up at the end ngl - but the rest of the titans are just as important as dick and it feels like the writer doesn't understand that. (i get this is a dick comic but it's still a titans story.) (it does however make me want to write a fic expanding upon this moment and the aftermath bc the idea of the titans all coming together to cheer dick up is so goooooood. are they gonna have a party celebrating dick's parent's lives? are they gonna eat junk food and watch a comfort movie? are they gonna just sit and talk?? the possibilities are endless!!)

the art is gorgeous as all of jimenez' art is, i love his style so freaking much!!

the next page is of the bludhaven supporting cast and all it does is remind me how much i do not care abt them. i think the only one i actually like is clancy, the others are expendable and forgettable. (i do love clancy a lot though, i wish she'd been written by more people than just dixon). though, i usually love guice's art, i think i actually prefer mcdaniel's take on clancy??? which is 100% a first for me.

i like seeing the set up to dick's apartment, bc i'm a sucker for layouts and maps. i wish this comic was way better written bc the concept of dick living in an apartment building and interacting with his neighbours is one i really like, esp in superhero comics. but again i have to say, alas.

a day in the life of nite-wing/hangin'-with tad:

painful... just painful...

i physically couldn't care less about this if you paid me

the next page is tad's file and i am Not Reading That. nope nope nope. and also fuck you.

next is a map of bludhaven, and like i said, i'm a sucker for maps.

the page after that is brutale's file and again i just do not care. the art is by damion scott who i really like, but the design looks like knock off scarecrow so

the next pages are files for double dare, lady vidc, shrike and blockbuster and i'm skipping them all bc i give negative fucks

next is a spread of what i assume is dick's cork-board? it looks kinda interesting but the writing is hard to make out and i don't care enough to try to decipher it

next is torque's files and same same, idc idc

nightwing's romances/orange you glad i didn't say banana?:

ok so y'all know i hate dickbabs. i hate everything about how it was built on the foundation of tearing down kory and dickkory and i'm a kory fan first and foremost so i hate this whole situation. so i'm already predisposed to disliking anything that talks about how babs is dick's true love, and talks down any of his other love interests. i come into this with an admitted bias. i'd try to be charitable but i don't see why i should when no one involved in the writing of dickbabs is charitable towards my faves so 🤷

i love love love stelfreeze's art! he's drawn babs in something else i read and i loved it then and i love it here!

i adore dick and babs' friendship, so the beginning is really sweet and cute. i also love the concept of baby!dickie being obsessed with watermelons and wanting to eat them forever

dewey decimal system!!! librarian babs reference!! fdjkh she's such a nerd i love it

babs trying to talk about romance and dick's like 'lol nah what abt fighting' lmao

i Do Not like babs hitting dick while talking abt 'i was segueing into talking about romance, hint hint'

this is romance? dick giving exactly 0 fucks?

why are these writers obsessed with hinting at dick and donna??? like first dixon and now grayson??? please stop!!!! i do love how he says he loves her bc 🥺🥺🥺 i love them

ur not being slick having babs call donna 'donna' and kory 'starfire', i see you grayson. i see ur hate for kory.

and reducing kory to just her body, and dick's sexual attraction to her boils my blood

i'm choosing to interpret babs's face in that panel as her being attracted to kory too

i do like that dick talks about being in love with kory, and thinking about still being with her. a) i'll take those crumbs, and b) thats how i see dick's relationship to love as being (though devin views him as kinda flighty and unfaithful so idk how we're agreeing on this lmao)

pls stop talking shit abt huntress devin, ur the one who made dick/hel a thing

since devin loves her brudick subtext, i'm side-eyeing the mention of bruce there

also why are we hinting at cass pls stop

babs being jealous and petty pls stop

the ending was smooth i have to admit it. if it was any other ship i'd probs love it but as it is, i'm tired of everyone else being downplayed in favour of the ~babs is dick's true loooooveee, it's always been herrrrr, from the beginningggggg~

i don't mind babs being dick's first crush though, in fact that's my hc for him because hello?? who wouldn't have a crush on babs??

thank you mr stelfreeze for accurately portraying babs' bitchface bc she's being a petty bitch here (and i love her but lmaooo i hate this whole thing)

next is the files on the bludhaven pd and i do not caaaare

then there's a timeline, but i don't care about any timeline that dixon writes. i'm petty though so i'm gonna read it and talk abt why i don't like the retcons.

i hate the dickbabs reference in YEAR FUCKING 3 jfc. pls stop with the retcons.

also lmao the difference between the way dick's canon relationship from that time is described in the shittiest way possible (though reluctant at first, dick begins a long and tumultuous romance with teammate starfire.) and how he wrote dick and babs' relationship (robin first teams with ... barbara in her guise as batgirl. the two will pair time and again over the course of their careers and develop a burgeoning affection for one another) this was at a time when they weren't even remotely interested in each other!!! there was no affections there dixon! no matter how much you wish it to be true!! and again the contrast with 'starfire' and 'barbara'! like it's dehumanising and i hate it.

and he can't even bother to get the new teen titans' team name right.

no mention of kory's importance in dick becoming nightwing, nope we ignore that bc it's thanks to superman now.

stepping away from the way he hates kory to talk about the way he hates jason! jason's described as a 'troubled orphan' and a 'juvenile delinquent'.

no mentions of how jason and dick bonded but as soon as tim gets introduced he talks about how dick and tim 'switfly bond as brothers'.

another incredibly impersonal description of dick and kory's relationship (the wedding of dick grayson and kory anders (aka starfire) is aborted by the rogue titan raven. dick and kory soon part company and dissolve their relationship.) but at least he calls her kory this time.

also i love how he speeds up through all the 'non important' development for dick but spends a whole page talking about all the bullshit he's been writing for nightwing. i understand why, but it's just lmaooooo 🙃 when you read it like that, it really shows how shitty this comic is.

talks of the 'doomed relationship' between dick and hel and i really hate it pls stop

the last page is dick's evaluation by the police academy and i do not care so i'm skipping it too.

[wholeanimal]

Quietly Shitty Men

“There is a specific type of person who will siphon the gas right from you because they’ve never learned how to shine their own light.” My ex is engaged.  That shouldn’t bother me, should it?  Oh, but it does.  It bothers me because I saw it coming.  Tell me, what makes a woman “crazy”? Is it when she follows her own instincts? Or is it when she suppresses them? Is she crazy for sensing something is wrong, or crazy for acting like it?  It would be one thing if this was someone new. Good luck and God bless.  It would be another if he said, at any point in the relationship, how he felt. That he was anxious or nervous or angry or scared or hurt or apprehensive or lost. You know, feelings.  I can’t blame a person for having feelings. Had he stepped up and said “you know what, I can’t stop thinking about my ex, I want to give it another try with her.”  That would have been fine. Not in the moment, but nine months later, I wouldn’t be feeling like this. Feeling like I’ve just clicked the last piece of the puzzle into place. 

It wasn’t me. It was, obviously, never me.  I wouldn’t still be putting myself back together after riding the world’s shittiest, least exciting roller coaster.  I wouldn’t be having nightmares that I was somehow still dating him, still subjected to his unfortunately not unique brand of emotionlessness and quiet disdain. Like I was the freak for feeling.  When things were really, truly over, that’s when I learned the most about who he was. I remember sitting at the kitchen counter, having a silent panic attack, wondering where I was going to live, what I was going to do, how I was going to make this all work. The pandemic and riots had hit my neighborhood hard, and I was trying to imagine starting life over when everything else was figuratively and literally crumbling.  Granted, I can’t remember the conversation word-for-word, but this is my best attempt.  “What’s going on?”  “Nothing, I’m just freaking out.” “Why?” “I have to move. I have to start over. I have to figure out so many things.” “Yeah, well...” “What?” “I just don’t know why you’re so upset.” “Are you fucking serious?” “Yeah. I don’t know why you have to have so many emotions.”  “Do you mean now, or in general?” “In general.” I was about ready to fly apart.

“You don’t...understand...why I have EMOTIONS?”  ”Yeah. I guess I just don’t see the point.” I don’t remember much after that. I remember going back upstairs and crying so hard I vomited. So much made sense: it wasn’t that he couldn’t empathize with me. It’s that he saw no value in it. Only his emotions were valid. Anything beyond that was simply not worth caring about. It was chilling, and nauseating, and heartbreaking. My heart broke many times over the course of the month I spent living there after we decided to part ways. I had several conversations like this, where I realized just how long I had been having a one-sided relationship. It also made me feel white-hot, clench-fisted RAGE. How DARE he?  NOTHING about his daily life would change. He would wake up in the same bed, go down the same set of stairs, putz around his merry fucking way. He wouldn’t have to spend a dollar or dime sorting out what came next. Me, on the other hand? I lost my job the same day I found my apartment.  I wanted to claw the paint from the walls I had meticulously restored. I wanted to splinter the floors I had paid to have refinished. I wanted to take all this hard work with me, somehow, to show that I had not truly given up everything. That I had something left. I’m not writing this for you to feel bad about me. I’m more than fine.  I’m not looking for words of encouragement. I don’t need them.  I want him, and other quietly shitty men, held accountable.  Nothing my ex did was actually abusive. It was juuuuust under the line, just enough for him to be able to walk away with his hands up, all “Guess it just didn’t work out!” And I know, I KNOW I’m not the only one.  He made me feel crazy and stupid and weak and small and pathetic. I contorted myself into impossible shapes, trying to make the relationship work. I did things he would never do, that I would never do again. I moved across the country. Twice.  I downplayed all the porn he watched. I pushed the fact that he had an active FetLife account out of my mind. I ignored my dealbreaker about being with a smoker - something he claimed he quit, then started up again in secret, then held against me when I called him out. Making me the bad guy.  It got so bad, I suspected I had R-OCD, or relationship-based OCD. That was my only explanation for how I was always so anxious and he was always so calm. It was MY fault that something felt off. He was aware of my tendency to blame myself, and used it against me. Then, he would get to be the patient, understanding boyfriend while I broke down again and again, hating myself for being so “weak.” I wasn’t weak. He was keeping me in the dark on purpose, because it was easier to do that than to, I don’t know, be fucking honest?! 

Every time I got really bent out of shape, when the little slights and coldness and disdain had built up to a breaking point, he would let me say (or scream) my piece, and respond: “You’re right.”  Wow. Thanks!  I see now that you don’t have to do much work on yourself when you just agree with the person who is upset with you.  I’m also not writing this to paint myself as an angel. Yes, I was frustrated and confused and upset, which came out in outbursts of tears and anger. But the difference is, I was trying to connect with him in everything I did.  He was trying to push me away. it dawned on me, during one of those horrible post-breakup conversations, that he had fully checked out many months ago. I finally asked him to define a phrase I had heard him use during couples counseling (another suggestion of mine). “What do you mean by ‘I’m deeply invested in your happiness?’” “What?” “Well, like an investment, do you mean time, money, emotions? Or do you just want me to be ok?” “Yeah, that.” “Ok. so you just want me to be “okay”.” I’ll take “Performative Allyship” for 200! I’ve told myself I should have known. Should have left sooner. Should-ing myself to death, sparing him from any fault. Remember, he’s the long-suffering partner of an overly sensitive woman. Another wince-worthy excerpt from couples counseling: Our therapist asked us, at the end of a session, to each tell the other something we loved about the other person. I turned, with tears in my eyes, and told him I appreciated how consistent he was. I was always able to count on him being stable and calm.  He told me he liked how nice and clean I kept the house.  Cool! He could have saved himself about six months of this bullshit if he had just spoken his mind. I wonder, now, if he even had the capacity. But no, he preferred to wait and let me figure it out on my own, until I was so depleted that I was having almost nonstop migraines. But, just like the sibling who can’t get into trouble because they’re “NOT ACTUALLY TOUCHING YOU!!!”, nothing he did was exactly abusive.  But it was plenty shitty.  Mr. Social Justice. Mr. Feminism. Mr. Don’t Comment On That Topic Or I’ll Shut Down Emotionally. Mr. We Have To Move Away From Montana For Vague Reasons Including Racial Tension Which I Never Actually Experienced But That’s Reason Enough For Me!  And when we got to Philadelphia, it was Mr. Why Don’t You Take More Walks Outside Even Though You Get Harassed and Followed? You’re In The House Too Much (Yeah, Even Though It’s a Pandemic).  He’d spend hours on the phone talking to the nurses he helped at work. But when a woman in need lived in his own house, ew, gross! Too close to home!  There’s a line in a very funny Chris Fleming song called the “Grad Student Shuffle”, which takes the absolute piss out of white male graduate students. A few of the lines apply, but these especially: Call yourself a community organizer Even though you’re not on speaking terms with your roommates! Stand tall and look mindful Even though you're addicted to porn! C'mon! Now close your eyes Say fair enough "Fair enough" Now you are doing the Grad Student Shuffle I’ve gone back and added to this post a bunch of times since I wrote it. I like having a record, even if it’s one-sided. I realize I’m writing this as much for myself as I am for anyone else. To put my story down somewhere, and not to be too concerned if it’s fair or balanced. What happened to me wasn’t fair or balanced.  Which reminds me of the worst confrontation we ever had.  It was just an hour or two after we decided to break up. It was a sad, but quiet conversation. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved. I went upstairs to let the new reality soak in, and asked if I could steal a puff from his vaporizer. Not weird, right? What was weird was that I felt like a guest in his room. We kept separate bedrooms, which I highly recommend to any couple who can spare the space. But there is a difference between having the option of separate spaces, and feeling relegated to separate spaces. I didn’t feel welcome in his room, and he made no secret of it.  So, as usual, I asked to go in.  He had left his laptop open on the bed, and I stared off into space as I waited for the vaporizer to heat. I must note, here, that I am not a person who digs. I will run circles in my own brain, but by and large, i leave stuff alone. So I didn’t go looking for what was already on the screen, which was a conversation between him and his best friend.  I read maybe a couple sentences before realizing, oops, probably shouldn’t. It was enough to see one exchange, less than two hours after we had officially broken up. “That sucks, man. How long do you think til you’ll be back on Tinder?” “I don’t know. Probably before she moves out.”  I’d like to say I don’t remember what happened next, but I do remember. I marched down two flights of stairs, yanked two giant plastic bins out of basement storage, and rage-packed everything I owned outside of my own room in less than ten minutes. 

He, of course, had no idea. Nuanced as a fucking turtle, he told me he was going out for a walk, and then asked if something was wrong.  I let him have it. Everything that had been building inside of my body came spewing out, all at once. I stumbled over my own words, laughing-crying-screaming-asking him what the fuck he was thinking, who the fuck he was, and what the fuck was this relationship? Was any of it even REAL?  He had nothing to say.  And that, my friends, was my main mistake. Thinking anything I could ever do could ever get a reaction out of him. Could ever draw the sort of love or support or attention that I used to get from him, before he decided to turn off the tap. 

I spent another month there until I could finally move out. I could tell he was annoyed that I was still there. I remember telling him people aren’t disposable. They don’t disappear when you decide you’re done with them. Thirty days was the absolute minimum I could manage, and even that was an incredible feat.  He asked me to watch the dog, the one he adopted only a couple of months before, while he went out. I remember thinking, “Am I watching this animal so he can go out on dates? No fucking way.” I still don’t know, and I’m glad I don’t. 

He’s not the only quietly shitty guy. There are many. I’m sure bunches of them are being congratulated on their engagements or promotions right now, by people who have never dated them. Have never had the soul-wrenching realization that oh, this person who told you you were their dream and their angel and their moon and stars actually decided like a year ago that they just weren’t feeling it and didn’t have the balls to tell you.  But, feel free to question reality in the meantime! 

Women reading this, beware. There are men who hold up their hands and shrug and say shit like “I wish her the best” and know to use phrases like “emotional labor” to fake enough self-knowledge to start a relationship that they don’t know how to finish.  I encourage you to ask questions. Find out how much they know about themselves. How long their relationships tend to last. If their friends really know them. If they change jobs frequently. If they move states frequently, and why.  But most of all, know yourselves. Know that you deserve to have your questions answered, your emotions validated, and your opinions heard. There are plenty of quietly shitty men to choose from.  You don’t need to choose one. 

[tobiomlk]

hey june! i hope im not adding to a bunch of requests or something, can i get comfort hc's with akaashi and our favorite blueberry boy? 👉👈 -🐸 froggy anon

𝘄𝗵𝗼. akaashi keiji + kageyama tobio

𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁. comfort headcanons

— a. keiji

akaashi is nothing short of attentive. as perceptive as he’s known to be, he’s the type to pick up on the little cues and can definitively tell when something’s off. the boy has to put up with bokuto’s antics on the daily, identify and counter your mood swings it’s like a piece of cake.

he prolly won’t try to pry at first because he doesn’t want to come across as nosy or pushy. he deems it prudent to give you all the space you need if you’re feeling unwell, after all, he’ll always be there for you as soon as you feel comfortable enough to open up. however, he also knows when to take action and won’t hesitate to confront you if he notices you’re nowhere near of getting better.

he’s very lowkey about it— he doesn’t know how much of a counterproductive effect will ensue if he makes a big deal out of it, so he just says in the lowest, softest voice he has to offer “hey, you know you can always talk to me, right?” and if you're not crying by this point then let me tell you I Am.

have i told you how great of a listener akaashi is? because he is. like. the best listener ever. no cap. look you could be rambling about the dumbest thing in the world like a bad hair day or how your favorite serie had the shittiest ending you could ask for and he’ll just listen. word by word. no interruptions. you could go on for days and yet he’ll stay put and nod along. akaashi believes venting is a good coping mechanism and if all he can do for you is to listen, then let it out. he’s not going anywhere.

it’s really therapeutic because by no means he will try to make you feel less or downsize your pain. even if you consider your burdens to be silly, akaashi will assure you it’s none of the sort and you’re allowed to feel the way you do, because pain is still pain, and you don't need to compare it to others because your troubles are just as important.

sometimes you’ll get distracted because oh akaashi just keeps holding your hands into his large, setter ones and doing gentle circular motions and it feels quite nice— way too nice, to be honest, and you’re feeling a lot of feelings so you try to look up— wrong move, too, you don’t know if you can hold on his dark, piercing eyes looking right into yours for so long, so you hope he’ll look away so you can pull yourself together, but the thing is, he never does it. right now you’re all he can see.

akaashi has never been big on pda, must be said, but there’s no way he won’t indulge to a little physical comfort once you’re done ranting. no words, just him silently holding you closer to his chest and soothingly rubbing your back… you can almost hear him whispering “thanks for trusting me with this”.

he won't talk much afterwards, but when he actually decides to speak up, he never fails to say what you need to hear. it’s crazy. like he just speedread the pages of your heart and picked apart what was making you so upset. you can’t help but tear up a bit and he can’t help but kiss your tears away, which only causes you to sob harder but oh well.

later on that day you get a extremely-rare-yet-subtly-softer akaashi. it’s on the little gestures, like the way his hugs are tighter, his smiles last longer, and how he suddenly offers you a cone of your favorite ice-cream— ok, he’s not that subtle, but there’s no harm in pampering you for the rest of the day, is it?

— k. tobio

ok so get this straight: this blueberry lacks emotional intelligence so it’s only normal for him to struggle a whole lot with this sort of stuff. don’t blame him if he has a hard time reacting to your emotional baggage, all he has known to do with his is to ignore and pretend it doesn’t exist.

this being said, tobio is not That Dense. it’ll take him time, but soon or later he’ll notice something is the matter with you. he has no idea what might have caused it, or what is the said matter, but at least he’s getting the general picture.

from now on he’s absolutely clueless as to what to do so he just decides to give you a little bit of space and pray for the best. there’s also the possibility he’s just making things up so he kinda chooses to wait and see but if it becomes too obvious for him to ignore, then he’ll have to do something about it !

“did something happen?” he’ll probe awkwardly but equally concerned. now, if you go and tell him otherwise, he’ll be the one upset, because that’s evidently a Lie, and he doesn’t like when you lie, especially to him. so maybe he starts pressing on it, a little bit bolder. and speaking a little bit louder. and maybe he snaps because you keep denying the obvious and he’s worried !!! bc there’s clearly something bothering you !!! and he knows he’s not precisely the most reliable person but he won’t mind listening if that eases your burden !!!

but now you’re crying, and he’s doomed, because kageyama tobio is no good with crying, and he’s growing anxious because it feels like he’s partially responsible of it, but he doesn’t know what to do to fix it, but you won’t stop crying, and all he can do now is panicking and wiggling his arms restlessly around but without actually touching you because he’s straight up terrified that you might end up breaking if he touches you but he just does not know what else TO DO-

so kageyama goes with that is safe to him, though he isn’t really sure it’s actually safe, but he pulls you in for a hug regardless. a stiff one, but a hug at the end of the day. he envelops your figure with such delicateness— almost as if you were made of spun glass, and you can't tell whether his arms are trembling or not because you’re pretty much a shaking mess yourself, so you just melt into his touch, finding comfort in the familiarity of his awkward hug.

you cry into his shoulder for minutes, maybe hours? who knows, none of you is keeping the track of time, being as hyperly-aware of each others’ presences as you were at the moment. kageyama started to hold in his breath before he could even notice, but in no way he tried to pull away. he just can’t bring himself to do it with you between his arms. so he stills, hoping you won’t find it so uncomfortable, and for some reason, one of his hands makes its way atop your head, carefully roaming through the locks of your hair. it’s not a conscious act, that’s for sure, but it feels right to him so he doesn’t considers to stop.

it pains you physically to be the one breaking the position but you think you stained his shirt enough with your tears, even so, that seems to be the last of tobio’s concerns as he becomes an apologetic and flustered disaster and starts barking apologies left and right as soon as he can and it takes a lot of reassurement and convincing to calm him down. kageyama still makes sure to let you know he’s sorry for being so abrupt, but you wave it away. everything seems lighter now for some reason.

later, you end up venting to him because you’re convinced it would be a crime to deny something to that face of his, and it’s surprisingly healing to have him listening so intently and thoughtfully in spite of the scale of the problem. he doesn’t really says anything at all, mainly because he refuses to mess it up once again, but you don’t particularly mind. you’ve had enough comfort from his actions.

in the aftermath, a carton of milk keeps showing up religiously in your desk everyday after lunch time. there’s no note or sign, but you don’t need such thing to know the face behind it. but you won’t tease him about it, not yet.

[ava-jones]

Practice Challenge. Part 1

“Fuck him! Fuck his shitty new album! Fuck his ‘playboy’ reputation! I’m not going to lie about my life to fix a shitty situation he put himself in!” Ava screamed in the hallway a few feet down from her agents office. 

“Babe it’s not like I’m asking you to get married. Just go on a few photo-opt dates, then after Ethan’s album has been out for a few months you can quietly call it off.” Carolyn, the publicist being berated, argued. 

“That’s exactly the problem! It’s not like he’s some dude I’m actually interested in long term. I. don’t. Like. lying.” Ava huffed and leaned against the wall crossing her arms and glaring at Carolyn. 

“Don’t think of it as lying just as acting.” She tried to purswade. 

Ava just glared and chewed on the inside of her cheek as she tried to find some way to get out of this. 

“Common Ava, remember what I said to you when you were a kid, ‘sometimes you have to bend a little.’” She pressured. 

“Bend a little! I moved to Angeles! I changed my name! I rewrote Heart Full of Scars! I did your playboy magazine! I’ve done every single thing that you’ve told me too!” She screamed now getting some looks from other agents. One of them would likely let this outburst slip out soon, another ‘snobby two throwing a tantrum’ she could already see the headlines “Has Ava Jones gotten too used to the rich life? Illeans sweetheart has rotted.’ Probably something shorter but that was why Ava was not a journalist.

“You absolutely have not! You turned down the chance to speak with Scooter Burnt on his show! You barely got to the playboy thing and I had to convince you for days before you’d go! You’ve refused modeling opportunities and went against me and released ‘Do You’!” 

“And it fucking slaps! It got us 65.2 million views within 24 hours! Sometimes you’re wrong!” She yelled and turned to leave. 

“Where are you going?” Carolyn asked, running after her. 

“Home.” She huffed and put her hands in her pockets turning to take the stairs out. 

“Angeles or Sumner?” 

“Sumner!” She yelled back as Carolyn started falling behind. 

“For how long?” 

“Till you get me out of this mess!” She yelled back, turning the corner to the front door of her agents studio. Suddenly he bombarded her. 

“Please wait! Ava!” Ethan yelled chasing after her before grabbing her arm. 

She spun on him, “What! You tricked me into thinking we were friends then told the press I slept with you, why do you think I should give you another second of my time?” 

“Don’t you want to?” He asked with a raised eyebrow more than a little to calm for Ava’s anger.

“To what?” She asked, genuinely confused.

“Sleep with me?” 

Suddenly, Ethan wasn’t smiling anymore, in fact he was on the ground, a red slap mark across his face, security moving to stop Ava but hesitating, they wouldn't want to hurt Illea’s darling. 

“You whore!” Ethan yelled and lunged at her, the guards were much less hesitant with him. After all he was a has-been lunging at a will-always-be. Suddenly the door to the building swung open, the guards stopped, Ethan stood quickly and wrapped a hand around Ava’s waist. As much as she wanted to shove him off and make the sides of his face symmetrical she didn’t want to deal with even more bad press.  

He leaned down to her ear, “behave or I will fucking destroy you.” he whispered. 

“Yeah right, like you can.” She grumbled back through gritted teeth as a paparazzi tried to act hidden, wandering around like he was looking for a room as he held a camera close to his body, attempting to keep it under his bag. 

“Calm down, sweetheart. You’re the one escalating this.” He whispered as they shuffled together to the door trying to make their way out to their private parking deck. Ava quickly scanned her ID for the building and they slipped out of sight. 

As soon as the door closed behind them she shoved him off and down to the ground, “Never touch me again. I’m not the one escalating this, you’re the one who told the press I was ‘cute’ in bed, what the hell does that even mean? I am reacting. I am allowed to react to you being the shittiest person alive,” She rushed to her car and pulled away. 

She was never supposed to drive herself, just like she wasn’t supposed to hit other celebrities, or yell in hallways, or put up a fight. But lately she was feeling so tired. 

She pulled into an empty church parking lot and sat there for a moment, the air conditioning on as cold as possible, and she almost let it out. She almost let her lips quiver, she almost felt her tears pouring over, she almost called her Carolyn and pleaded for ‘out’. Out of singing, out of performances, out of autographs, out of stalkers, out of lies, out of men thinking that because she is a she in a position of power they can take it from her. Out of letting them. 

But, she didn't. She held onto her steering wheel, she popped open her glove compartment and took out a small cigarette box. Of course she would never risk hurting her voice. Instead inside was a picture of herself as a young girl with a boy. The two of them were about thirteen, they were having a picnic on a farm, drinking sparkling apple juice out of two champagne flutes, feeling so adult. Inside there was a small swatch of fabric. She held it closed and breathed it in, and the warmth took over and she was okay. 

She picked up her phone and called one of her top numbers, “Hey Ms. Rosado! I’m coming home for a while tonight. Do you mind if I swing by the house?” 

“Of course not! You know you’re welcome any time, baby.” The now elderly woman eased. 

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

Sumner was always Ava’s heaven. It’s where she wasn’t Ava Jones at all. She was Avery Jacoby. Her family was from very rural Sumner. There were about 800 people in her town, mostly fours and lower. Her family had been fours for years until she bought their way into the two castes. The Rosado’s were a family of sevens who worked on their poultry farm. Angeles was loud, full of screaming cars, and people. All she had to hear at home was the chickens and cows. She pulled up on the dirt road which led not to her house, but to the Rosados. It had been un-lived in for the last six years. 

Untouched, Ms. Rosado couldn’t be in it anymore so she had moved in with Ava’s family. She couldn’t stand the silence, where her little boy had once run around with Ava, playing monsters vs heroes. Hearing Michael play guitar along with Ava’s singing. It made her think of his body, falling to the ground, the final seizure taking him at fifteen, it lasted for eight minutes before he passed on. 

Ava laid down in his childhood bed. Her best friend, her soul mate's bed. His smell surrounded her as she looked up at the stars painted on his ceiling, “Mike.” She called out softly covering her eyes with her arm. She knew he couldn't see her. She didn’t believe in all that “they’re watching from above shit. Why would he waste his time in heaven on that. 

“I don’t want this anymore.” She breathed out. 

“But I’m not giving up on us. We said it, we were gonna make it one day, you’re the asshole who made me promise I wouldn’t give up no matter what. Well now what? I’ve made it I think, but there always seems to be more to do. When is it enough? I need you to tell me. Why were you so shitty with your deathbed wishes. What does it even mean? Make it to your debut album? Check. Make it to your first sold out concert? Check! Have billions of fans worldwide? Done and done. But now what do you want me to become a triple threat take on acting and modeling? Do you want me to keep performing? I did all this for you after all! Pretty rude of you to leave me hanging here!” 

“Well do you still like singing?” She shot up at the response. Not from some magical ghost but from her younger sister, Katy.

“What are you doing here?” She asked defensively about her sister's eavesdropping. 

“Aitana said you were stopping by. I figured you needed saving before you turned into-” she paused and gestured to her sister, a crying mess in a child’s bed, “-that.” 

She paused for a moment and sat down next to her, “you know, we’d never want for money again. You’ve made enough for us and ms. Rosado to live like kings for the rest of our lives. Probably your kids too and grandkids. You don’t have to keep doing this, that is, if you don’t like it.” 

Ava sighed looking back up to the painted night sky, “I love singing, I’ll always love singing.” She mumbled. 

“But?”

“But, I hate the performing, I hate being watched, I hate being told who to date, who to talk to, what to wear, what I’m permitted to eat, how much to work out, scripted for in interviews.” 

Katy made a dramatic gasp, “Scripted? You? I thought you just really loved Nike shoes all the sudden.” she joked. 

Ava couldn’t help but laugh and lightly hit her arm. “You bitch, I worked hard to deliver those lines.” She grinned ear to ear. Being apart from Katy was one of the worst things about being in Angeles. 

“Seriously though, you look like shit. You don’t seem happy anymore. You know he wouldn’t want this. He didn’t care about fame he just thought it was what you wanted and wanted you to be happy. Clearly, you’re not, so quit.” She sighed before standing up. “It’s simple, just stop working.” She stood up. 

“You didn’t know him like I did.” Ava mumbled looking down at her hands, knowing her sister was right, but also remembering his eyes and how they lit up dreaming about their future together. 

“Whatever, I’m not going to argue with you about that. Mama’s making stew for dinner, we have to get back before she gives it to the pigs.”

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

A few weeks passed on missed calls, then a few months of avoided visits. The press panicked for a moment that Ava hadn’t been literally seen in awhile, but Carolyn released a statement that she was taking a vacation, fortunately for them the present is planned in the past so Carolyn had plenty of unreleased photos to put out, and even a few unreleased songs which she had previously called, “garbage” but was turning to in desperation.

Ava felt clean. She felt safe in the hills of Sumner, the sun healed her, her family was close, and the world was quiet. Until the letter came, then Katy was screaming. 

“Our selection letters came!” 

“Our what came?” I asked munching on my bowl of corn flakes. 

“Selection, duh- oh right you’re doing that “off the grid or social media cleanse.’” She said doing air quotes.

“How very Angeles of you.” My mom chimed in. 

“I’m not trying to be hip, I'm just taking a break!” I defended myself. 

“Well- to fill you in, Prince Arin is holding a selection! I thought he never would since he and that chick seemed so close to getting married. They were even engaged three months ago.” She gushed. The cereal fell off my spoon, 

“Months?” 

Katy looked confused for a moment, “Yeah months, not every mourns for years.” 

“Yeah no. No way in hell is he over that. He’s looking for a royal rebound.” I chuckled and went back to my food. 

“So you’re not going to apply?” 

“No I’m not going to apply, and you shouldn’t either. You’ll get your heart broken joining that.” 

“Well maybe I’m not going in it for my heart.” She replied. 

“What? Have I not been giving you enough money?” 

“More like there aren’t enough men in this town. I’m itching to have some fun.” She complained. 

“And I’m out!” Our mom said rushing off as Katy began to complain about how dry her sex life had been lately. 

“Well, I’m taking the drive to the post office this afternoon. Decide if you want to join by then.” 

“I’ve decided, no thanks.” 

A few hours later Ava sat in bed reading one of her old favorite books, she was enjoying some peace until her phone was buzzing over and over again in her drawer. She would shut it off but it was a burner phone that Carolyn had given her. It was an ‘when you want to get off the grid but I still need to reach you for an emergency phone.’ She groaned and pulled it out, 

“You better be dying.” 

“No but I’m going to put you in your grave if you don’t come back here and participate in the selection.” 

“Nope sorry I told you, I’m home until I say so. If that’s all I’ll see you someda-”

“I’ll let you out of your contract with Rainbow Companion Records!” Ava bit her bottom lip. RCR had signed her when she was just fifteen. She didn’t know better so she agreed to a 10 year lease with them. Getting out would really help her quit.

“Why would you do that?” She asked, there would be no advantage for Carolyn. Everyone was playing a game with each other at this level and she needed to know her angle. 

“You’re not going to quit. I’ve known you for years, you’ll take a break but ultimately come back. People like yo- like us are simple, we need the attention. After a while you’ll ask them to take you back. I know you’re too stubborn to accept that that’s what will happen, so you’ll agree to this because you want to ‘quit’ right now. It’s happened to so many of my clients.” She explained being shockingly transparent. 

“You really don’t know me at all.” She mumbled and thought for a moment. She was afraid, afraid that what Carolyn said was true. That she’d miss all that noise. But if it wasn’t she’d finally be free.” 

“What if I don’t get in?” Ava asked, needing to know the details. 

“Sweetheart, if you want it you’re as good as already in. I know people.”

“Okay I’ll do it.” 

“Great! I’ll send someone over in three days to fill out your appli-” She shut the phone. ‘No way in hell someone is doing that for me.’ 

“Katy! Do you have my letter?” She yelled in the hallway. 

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

Just like that, Angeles flew in and popped my bubble. "We've hired some good photographers and journalists to wait at the airport. Just smile and say you're excited. I've also got some new sponsors for you, RCR really fucked me over on those negotiations so we need a bit more big billion bucks." Carolyn said as Aileen, my makeup artist, worked on lining my lips. 

Carolyn pulled a paper out of her purse and handed it over to her, mostly it was a list of brands with a few lines they wanted her to say, nothing unusual. She normally put up a fight over promotional work but if it was her ticket to a life without lying and screaming, she’d take it. 

“Now I set up the studio for that song that you sent me. It’s going to be a hit! We’ll release it a few hours before the selected announcements come out so the popularity boost from being announced on national television will bring everyone, even people who aren’t your fans, to your new video.” She explained. 

As soon as Ava’s jet landed in Angeles it was back to her old life. Back to the quick interview, “I was taking a break to be with family but I’m back now better than ever.” with a few ads thrown in there for the money. 

The night of the announcement she laid in the bath. She normally hated how alone she was in her Angeles apartment, but being able to bathe in peace was a nice perk. She pulled up the count down for her own video and waited. She didn’t like to watch them until they were released. In the past she had tried to help with the editing process but she was apparently too much of a backseat driver. She just had to trust that Jack knew her vision and would stick to it. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LyFiWkmkexI

She had decided to write this mostly due to her pure rage at Ethan, her director went a little off though making it into a whole scheming theme but overall she was satisfied. Next she switched to the channel with the selected announcement and waited. One named caught her eye ‘Emily Rose White’. She groaned and pulled up her phone, 

“You told her I was joining?”

“No that must have been actual luck, or she just wants to compete.” Carolyn responded. 

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

[lovelyirony]

Hello friend! I'm in a mood and just feel like reading something sad. Could you pretty please maybe write some sad winteriron? Maybe something to do with terminal illness but it's up to you!

Being human means that there are many things that could happen to you and you can’t help it. 

Like cancer. 

Or being hit by a bus. 

Maybe a heart condition that you didn’t know about until you were thirty-two, had weird chest pains, and then found you didn’t have genetic testing done and neither parent told you about any extensive medical history because they both were estranged from the family. 

Okay. That was specific. 

But Tony was laying in a hospital bed and the doctors told him that he wouldn’t live past forty and he would die of heart failure. 

He feels like he should be hit harder by this. He only has eight years left to live. He shouldn’t be in his kitchen making eggs, he should probably be hysterically calling Rhodey and Pepper and Happy and asking them about funeral arrangements and what he’s going to do and quite possibly if spending the extra money to get the executive suite at the fancy hotel in Switzerland is worth it. 

Except he doesn’t want to. 

Death is a messy process. Not for him, they assured him of that. But everyone asks you questions and your loved ones. You have to figure out where to bury someone if they didn’t do it beforehand. Sometimes you have debates about cremation. Other times about how much you want to spend on a casket. 

He really doesn’t want to look at Rhodey or Pepper or Happy when they talk about that because he knows that their faces will break into tears and he will see the tear tracks when they go home to their houses and cry some more. 

Nonsense. 

If he can hide it, then he will. He doesn’t want to be a bother, it would be...unfortunate. 

Besides. He’s lonely at the top, and there’s no climbing back down the mountain. He won’t pull a Scrooge and get visited by three ghosts. 

So he lives. 

He pulls some risky moves, but nothing that makes Pepper have the “are you up to something serious that could potentially cause my midlife crisis to go off-schedule” talk. 

Again. 

He donates more money to charities and helps people pay off medical bills and walks around New York late at night to wonder why he’s going to die in eight or maybe even seven years instead of the proposed twenty to thirty. (What? He wasn’t going to be too generous, he knew himself.) 

Tony wonders sometimes if he will meet someone and they will make him want to live so much more than he can. It will be like those romantic dramas with rainfall and hair plastered to foreheads and passionate kisses that leave some of the older women teary-eyed and wishing that their husband would do something like that. 

But he’s a genius, so he knows statistics like the back of his hand. 

There will be no one. 

Eight turns into seven. He celebrates by getting absolutely slammed on New Year’s Eve and wakes up to the shittiest radio station blaring. He’s pretty sure they’re playing Maroon 5, which fucking ugh. 

New Year, new resolutions. He doesn’t bother to make one. 

“Why not? You usually make a joke one,” Rhodey says. 

“We are all going to die,” Tony answers. “Why make a resolution if I don’t want to? If I were to die in a year, it wouldn’t really matter.” 

“Okay Lord Byron,” Rhodey says, rolling his eyes. “You want Hot Topic giftcards for your birthday? Huh?” 

Tony laughs. 

Rhodey always knows how to make him laugh. 

Tony doesn’t know how he’s going to make Rhodey laugh when he’s dead. So that’s a breaking point where he stares at the wall and starts to write random memories down, like the time they snuck up onto a hotel’s roof to see the city wake up and the wind chapped their lips and Tony swore that he’d never leave Rhodey. 

Except he is. 

And he realizes that he needs to let Pepper and Rhodey and Happy know that he loves them a lot. So he starts the letters. 

He writes a letter to Pepper to remind her about how much she regrets getting light blue nail polish every single time she gets a manicure, and she should never get it. (Yes, even for a wedding she’s in, get something, anything other than that.) 

He writes a letter to Happy that is basically just wondering about how they can troll asshole celebrities that they know. He doesn’t know, but maybe he will find some dirt so that if Happy ever falls on dire times, he will have some extra cash flow coming in. Not that Tony would let that happen, but say Happy ever did. Maybe someone stole his bank information. Who knows what will happen in seven or six years. 

Summer still sucks. He thinks maybe he’ll like it more, now that he knows that his heart is going to quit. But it still smells like piss and garbage on the streets of New York, people are still blasting shitty music and riding bikes too dangerously, and he still feels gross by two p.m. when he goes outside to face the world. 

Not even the treat of shaved ice helps this. 

“At least I won’t have to face another one in seven years,” Tony murmurs. “Thank god for that.” 

Seven turns into six. 

It’s around this time when an attractive redhead shows up at his office, bends down a bit lower than necessary, and Tony gets the feeling that SHIELD should really train their agents a bit better if they want something out of him. 

He organizes a meeting with Fury, walks in, and states that they cannot afford him. 

“You know that your help would be particularly useful,” Fury says. 

“For you to get what?” He asks. “Don’t bullshit me with some answer about compassion. Peggy Carter was kind, but she wasn’t a damned saint.” 

“There are new...developments.” 

Like the fact that they’ve found Captain America. And Bucky Barnes didn’t fall off into a random ravine, so the four different conspiracy theory documentary videos that Tony watched last year were about five hours of wasted time. 

They need somewhere to stay. Fury wants Tony to foot the bill. 

“What, can’t ask the government for funding?” Tony asks. “I’m sure if they can up the budget for military every year, that covers Cap and his old pal. Hell, I bet they’ll even open up the champagne fridges.” 

“They don’t know about it.” 

“And why would that be? Because you’d rather have idols to yourself?” 

It’s a low-blow. But Tony agrees to take them in. He just doesn’t want to see them, notably because his father was a bit of a Captain America fan, Tony had had a crush on the former sharpshooter when he was a younger guy, and it was all kinds of messed up. 

But he gives them their own little apartment, one of his safehouses. 

“This ain’t little,” Steve mutters to himself, unpacking a box of plates. Natasha has been nice enough to show them around and tell them about the changes she finds relevant. She forced them to listen to what she called ‘the goddess of pop’ in the car, and Bucky nearly clawed out the stereo after “Toxic” came on. 

“Fuckin’ palace,” Bucky mutters. “Who’s is this?” 

“A man in high places,” Natasha answers. “He doesn’t want to be known. Doesn’t exactly play well with others.” 

She leaves them be, and there’s so much that has changed. Steve is still looking for any sign of the past he can find in Bucky, and Bucky...

He’s not who he used to be. He doesn’t remember half the shit that Steve does. Perks of having your brain so fried up that you can barely remember your middle name. 

They eat together in silence. 

“I guess...I guess we have to figure out who we really are,” Steve says. “Because you’re not who I remember, and I’m not...I guess I’m not either.” 

Bucky nods. 

“Do you reckon we’ll like going out dancing?” 

The answer is a strong no, although Steve has to say the drinks have improved a hell of a lot more. He likes the ones that come with the small paper umbrellas. He doesn’t know where they get them, but it gives him an idea for an art project. 

Tony doesn’t hear much about the wonder boys. He doesn’t want to, not really. Natasha just says they’re getting more and more adjusted and she has evidence of Steve Rogers going clubbing. 

“Oh my god,” Tony groans. “Romanoff, do not.” 

“It’s funny.” 

“I don’t wanna know.” 

“What, you jealous that you’re not dancing with him?” 

“Hardly. Blonde and beefy isn’t my type.” 

“Then what is?” 

“Classified.” Tony answered. “Now, is there anything else you want SHIELD to suck out of me?” 

“Well, my manicure funding is getting rather low...” 

Tony snorts, but points towards the door. 

His chest hurts. It’s been happening. He’s actually gotten used to it. In a way, he’s more concerned when it doesn’t hurt. He went to another specialist. They say his death sentence is signed, even if they don’t word it like that. Here’s how it is usually worded: 

“I have a colleague who works at insert-clinic/hospital-here...I can refer you to Dr. So-and-So?” 

They can. But it’s another list of referrals of so-and-so’s and clinics and appointments at the most inopportune times. 

All for nothing, because Tony knows that he can’t be fixed. The human body sometimes works like a machine. But it’s not one. It’d be like Tony calling a dog a wolf. Similar, but no one wants to bring a wolf into their house as a pet. 

He gets a phone call from someone named Deputy Director Hill. 

-

He needs a new arm. 

Barnes needs a new arm. Of course he does. Tony should’ve expected that, of course. Hydra isn’t exactly known for revolutionizing prosthetics or being particularly kind to their projects that they work on. So Tony automatically has a one-up. 

He gets Barnes to come to this mechanic garage, surrounded by old tin signs and vintage cars that cost more than most of the monthly rent of penthouses in New York. 

Bucky does a double-take. 

“Howard?” 

“I hope not,” Tony answers. “Hop up on the chair for me, please. I’m getting you a new arm.” 

“This is fine,” Barnes automatically spouts. Tony can see the damage from here, and can even point out that the arm’s reaction time is probably the worst it has been currently. 

“If you want to stick to your Great Depression ideals, then by all means be my guest and go bitch in a grocery store about prices,” Tony responds dryly. “But if you want an arm that’s gonna be actually good, then sit.” 

So he does. 

Tony looks incredibly similar to his father. But there’s something different about him. Something softer, almost. Bucky didn’t know Howard nearly as well as others did, but he knew that Tony wasn’t his father. 

“How are you adjusting to the city?” Tony asks. 

"Still the shithole we all know and love,” Bucky swears. “I think the rats got bigger.” 

“They did. It’s amusing and horrifying at the same time. You ride the subway yet?” 

“Yes and I’ve come to terms with it. Lots of new things to learn about it.” 

Barnes’ visits become more frequent. They talk about New York stuff. Tony tells him all about the fun events that have happened that he missed while he was doing time as an icicle. 

It’s nice, talking to him. Tony finally has someone who understands fatalistic humor and doesn’t respond with 

“That’s scary, Tony.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Bucky just says “cheers” and decides to tell Tony about the time he nearly died in 1992 because he lost his footing on the Eiffel Tower. 

Tony laughs, and laughs harder than he thought he had in a long time. 

-

Six turns into five. 

Bucky gets closer, and they have...something. He’s not sure what it is yet, but he knows that they go on breakfast dates most of the time and he knows the coffee orders by heart. 

“I think you’ve found someone,” Pepper says, teasing. “Look at you.” 

“Yeah, look at me,” Tony murmurs. 

He has five years left. That’s plenty of time to date someone and break up, right? 

Except. 

It’s...wonderful to date Bucky. They go all over, have fun trying the shittiest restaurants in town, and even get Steve to get out more and socialize with the group. 

They date and celebrate holidays together and have fun candles and--

Five turns into four. 

“Not that bad,” Tony whispers to himself when he’s getting ready for bed. 

“What’s not bad?” Bucky asks. 

“Nothing, sweetheart,” Tony says. “Just got a new toothpaste.” 

They watch It’s a Wonderful Life and Tony can’t really focus, not when he’s thinking about the fact that he still hasn’t picked out a design for his urn. 

Not when he realizes that he needs to break up with Bucky and make it a whole big scene so that no one will talk to him. It has to be about two years before the date, he thinks. 

He goes to another Dr. So-and-So. They say he might actually have one more year, but who knows. 

He doesn’t. 

But he wakes up with Bucky every day and they make breakfast, and he thinks that maybe he could tell him? Maybe? 

The words get stuck in his mouth. 

He can’t. 

He meets with his lawyer for the will. 

“Why making sudden changes?” 

“Just like to shake things up,” Tony says with a smile. “Never know what’s going to happen, right?” 

“You are right about that,” the lawyer says. He’s a bit uncomfortable. Tony Stark looks at him like he knows that his life is short and that something else will come up. But it’s not the lawyer’s job to ask if things really are okay, and it’s not like Tony would tell him anyway. 

So he makes the changes to the will. 

Tony looks at Bucky as he’s napping, face so peaceful. 

He can’t ruin that. 

[demaury]

A prompt huh.. How about a little snippet where Lucas and Eliott meet each other when they are on holiday?

thank you Tara 👀💖

——

He sees himeverywhere.

Everyfucking where.

The firsttime he sees him is one morning, about five days into the vacation. Lucas’sjust exited the flat his dad has rented in Biarritz before he decides to drag himin yet again another father-son bonding activity, probably to make up for beingshitty for the past two years — and not giving two shits for fourteen yearsbefore that. The guy is tall, and athletic enough for Lucas’ mind to fantasizeabout his arms and the patches of skin he gets to see thanks to the loosetank-top he’s wearing. He’s got messy brown hair, the kind that looks soeffortlessly good, and clear eyes that he’s never been close enough to determinethe exact color of. It’s shortly before 11 and Hot Guy is on the phone, standingon the sidewalk following the beachfront. Lucas nearly misses the huge stepdelimiting the pavement and the sand when his eyes trips over him. He throws apanicked look in his direction as soon as he’s found back his balance, cheeksburning, but the guy doesn’t spare him a glance and he’s relieved enough not tobe bothered by that particular fact.

The secondtime, he finds himself waiting in line two persons behind him at the grocerystore. It’s another morning and Lucas is buying an inordinate amount of snacksfor yet again another solo session at the beach. Hot Guy seems lost in hisbubble as he scrolls down his phone, a pack of beer tucked under his arm makinghis bicep tense and the veins pop — and okay, maybe Lucas thinks he’s gottrouble breathing all of a sudden. He’s even hotter than in his memories, andfrankly he doesn’t know what to do with this newfound piece of information,considering he already knows he’s going to have far too much time to obsessover it. Which is a bit problematic, because he spends most of his time inswim-trunks these days, and swim-trunks aren’t exactly known for hiding things.

He keepsseeing Hot Guy everywhere for the next few days.

Seeing.That’s it. He sees him, and then he obsesses over it for six hours. It’s by farthe shittiest summer of his life, and he’s gotten his fair share of thosealready. He spots him at the beach again. A wonder, since there are enoughpeople there to enact a real life-size version of Where’s Waldo, but apparentlythat particular version of Waldo is hot enough not to be missed in a fuckingcrowd – or maybe the universe just hates him enough to play with his nerves.One of those times, hot guy is with a girl – pretty, bright smile, long brownhair –, both holding surfboards as they are chatting enthusiastically, andLucas is snorting to himself at the sight.

Of coursehe’s a surfer.

Of fucking course.

He’s noteven surprised. It’s part of the package at this point.

Anothertime, he’s reluctantly pushing his way through the tourists lazily taking astroll in a pedestrian street to get to the restaurant his dad has given himthe address of. He doesn’t want to go, and at this point he thought he had madeit pretty clear they have nothing to talk about, but it doesn’t seem to deterhis father from trying, which he hates profoundly. Hot Guy is sitting at theterrace of a bar, with the same brunette and a few more people. He can hearthem all laugh and talk, except for Hot Guy who’s busy rolling himself acigarette, and suddenly Lucas wishes he could be a part of the group. Justslide himself in the empty spot next to Hot Guy and hang out with them — there’sa bitter taste on his tongue long before he gets to the restaurant and ends upfighting with his father halfway through dinner.

After thathe’s a bit busy lamenting on his own life and missing his friends and his lifein Paris to think about Hot Guy again, at least until the following afternoon. He’sleft the flat again and gone to the beach early that morning, which is probablynot the idea of the century because the weather is kind of shitty and if it’snot raining it seems to be a miracle already in itself. The sun is playing hideand seek, just like the heat, and Lucas is left with nothing to do when hisphone dies shortly after he went to grab some fries at a food truck nearby forlunch.

He doesn’treally know for how long exactly he’s been asleep when a voice wakes him up. “Excuse me?”

A kaleidoscopeof green and red dances in his eyes as he blinks them open. “What?”, hemumbles, mouth a bit slack. He reaches to rub his eyes, only for his hand toknock into his sunglasses. His mind is a little hazy, but not hazy enough notto recognize the face he’s been having boners over for the past week — amortifying thought if there’s one. Hot Guy is crouching down next to him, asnapback hiding his messy hair, and Lucas is sure he’s going to die the momenthe crosses look with him from behind his sunglasses.

Now he’sgot the answer.

His eyesare grey.

And hisheart is absolutely no longer beating.

“Sorry todisturb but, uh- maybe you’re not gonna want to stay out there under the sun,”Hot Guy says with a small smile.

Lucas’ eyeseventually trail away from his face to the white clouds in the sky. “There’sbarely any sun today,” he says, clearing his throat. He’s hoping he’s nailingthe casual tone, and he shrugs a little to make his point crossed.

Hot Guy’ssmile turns into a smirk. “Yeah,” he drawls. “You might want to check though.”

And Lucasdoes. Because, even if he was asking for a kidney, he’d roll with it too. Thesound he makes at the sight of his legs definitely blows up the casual pose hewas desperately hoping to strike. The skin is pink (and unevenly at that), thekind of pink that promises a shit ton of Biafine, cold showers and sheetlessbed.

“Holy shit no,” he blurts out, checking his arms.His first instinct is to look up at the sky, where there’s not even a patch ofblue to nag him. “How is that a fuckingthing?”

Hot Guylaughs. “Reverberation with the water. Sorry I woke you up but I felt bad.”

Lucasswallows. “It’s- It’s fine. Thanks,” he mumbles, and he tears his eyes away fromthe stormy grey look that is currently ripping his soul apart. “Lucky me I wasn’tplanning to show off my impressive summer tan in September.”

“Youshould,” Hot Guy says. “You got it the hard way after all.”

Lucas istaken aback for a second, then he starts laughing and Hot Guy follows him. Itseems too easy to be true. Not to be whiner but he feels like nothing’s beeneasy for him for a long, long time.He didn’t expect to ever get to talk to Hot Guy. He doesn’t expect Hot Guy tostick around more than two minutes. And he certainly doesn’t expect him to holdout his hand.

“I’mEliott,” he says anyway, and suddenly this summer doesn’t seem so shittyanymore.