#but yeah. love how sometimes emotions stick far more than the actual memory of why you felt the way you felt at the time

[loumauve]

sometimes you pick up a book and are violently tossed back into remembering past grievances..

[xlonelysoulxx]

Being a Mermaid and Jacob’s Imprint Would Include... {2}

{gif isn’t mine}

xxxxx

You had disappeared for a whole month. You had only sent Leah a few messages after the incident, to give a sign of life and reassure the pack... which hadn’t helped matters when Jacob found out. "WHY didn't you tell me?!” “You acted like a f*cking jerk, why should I have?" The tension was so overwhelming, to the point where the other wolves must have come between them that day. Leah wanted to protect her friend, and Jacob wanted to get his imprint back. But he couldn't.

xxxxx

You hadn’t planned to come back, not so soon... this is what you had entrusted to the pretty wolf. You wanted to get some distance... away from Forks, from La Push... and from Jacob. You couldn't take it anymore. It was already hard that he treated you so coldly ‘cause he loved one another, but seeing him tear himself apart with his brothers... because of you? It was too much. It had gone way too far.

xxxxx

Grudge and worry kept growing among the wolves even when Jacob were gone, wandering god knows where near the Canadian border. Guilt and pain had kept twisting him from the inside ever since, and hearing the thoughts of his pack... especially when it came to you, had become torture. Even Jared, who had felt at fault at first, only felt annoyance now. Jacob was a ball of nerves ready to explode at any moment, while he was the one who had behaved badly in the first place. Fuck... he could have hurt you?! All because he had let himself be overcome by his emotions, emotions that he wasn’t yet ready to assume out loud.

xxxxx

The feeling of lack linked to the imprint was so strong that it sometimes prevented you from breathing, but that wasn't the worst. It was at that moment... that you realized how much you were in love with Jacob Black.

xxxxx

Even the pull of the bond wasn't as strong as the crack forged in your heart. A gash already wide open over the past few weeks (consciously or not) by the constant presence of Isabella Swan - hunted by Victoria - and now gaping as you left the Quileute... and Jacob, behind you. It was clear, the difference between these feelings - as if your heart and your guts were going in two distinct directions. How stupid you were... as if fate wasn't cruel enough like that.

xxxxx

You were quite surprised to see Alice and Jasper appear at your workplace one morning, a small neighborhood library near Port Angeles. It was brand new, no one knew about it. No one except Alice. Obviously... What were they doing there? You weren't particularly close to the Cullens, but you liked the lil’ brunette quite a bit. Did something happen? Did he... no, Leah would have warned you. Right..?

xxxxx

“He's stupidly stubborn, and guilty. But he's fine... for now.” You no longer understood anything, since when did Alice appreciate Jacob? She didn’t. But she couldn't control her visions. Time was running out. An army was approaching, Bella was once again the center of attention... and the future had darkened. The two clans who called themselves enemies had decided to unite reluctantly, to protect her - but what was your role in this story?

xxxxx

“Don't get me wrong, Alice... I don't wish Bella any harm.” You were boiling from the inside, but Bella wasn't the reason of your pain... Jacob was. You had no animosity towards the young girl, the shapeshifter was mature enough to make his own choices. It was between you and him, and yet. “But you came here for nothing.” You didn't look her in the eye anymore, busy sorting through the same books over and over in your hands. You couldn't believe she had come here just for this. She wanted you to come back to him, so he could come back to her... come back to Bella. To protect her.

xxxxx

Jasper hadn't moved from his place since their arrival, standing proudly straight behind his beloved. He could easily sense your anger, mixed with pain and incomprehension... and just like that, your eyes met his for a long second. “You should listen to her, Y/N.” You could feel a wave of appeasement sweep over you, immediately glaring at the vampire. "And you shouldn’t try to manipulate my emotions, Jasper."

xxxxx

“He won't survive it, Y/N... I saw it.” You could feel your blood running cold through your veins. What was she talking about?? Jacob was actually back in Forks, for more than a week now. But he was a freaking mess. He made sure to stay away from the pack, irritable... unpredictable, and more closed than ever. Quite the opposite of who he really was. You could feel your heart skipping a beat... Alice had glimpsed the impending confrontation, and the outcome had been fatal for the brown wolf.

xxxxx

No, no, no... it couldn't happen. It. Couldn't. The information was too much to handle as you began to hyperventilate like an idiot in the store, Jasper immediately moving to your side. You couldn't let him get killed all this because he was distracted by the whole "imprint thing”, no... you could never forgive yourself for it. You would leave your pride aside without any hesitation for him, everything for him... no matter the welcome you would receive in return.

xxxxx

The car ride was terribly quiet. The battle would take place in three days, so there was no time to waste. Your boss had been accommodating enough to give you your afternoon (he seemed to be pleased by your work, good for you) and this is where you were now... on the road back to Forks, sitting in the back of Alice's car. She had insisted on taking you there given your emotional state, and you were silently grateful for that. You could feel the anguish mounting as you approached the Quileute reserve, unconsciously wriggling in your seat.

xxxxx

“Stop the car.” The air was too thick to breathe, and you felt like you were drowning... there was only one way to fix it. You were close enough now, you could join the reserve on your own... but not right away. You quickly thanked the couple before slamming the door, taking the path to the forest under the worried gaze of the petite brunette. You ran, unable to stop before reaching the impressive cliff... not thinking twice before jumping.

xxxxx

You felt like you could finally breathe again as the icy water came in contact with your hot skin. You haven't been back to the ocean since the incident, and you had missed it - terribly. You could feel a pinch in your stomach as you rose to the surface, quickly looking up as your eyes instantly fell on the huge brown wolf that stood high on the rocks. Jacob. He was there... how?

xxxxx

You dived again after an endless exchange of glances, taking longer than necessary to reach the shore. A part of you feared your reunion, while the other was just relieved and excited to see him again. Jacob had reached the beach at an impressive speed, the shapeshifter dressed warmer than usual while a large jacket and boots complemented the usual shorts specific to all Quileutes. His heart was pounding as he observed the surface, impatiently waiting to see you reappear. Were you even going to do it..? He couldn't believe you were really there.

xxxxx

And you did. Your feet sank into the wet sand as you left the sweet comfort offered by the waves, your long hair sticking to your skin like a second skin. You were completely exposed as the cold wind whipped through your entire body, Jacob's eyes never leaving yours as he took off his jacket… wasting no time wrapping it around you. The distance between you was ridiculously thin now, the silence heavy and comfortable at the same time. There was no room for shyness here, it was Jacob. And despite everything that had happened you had full confidence in him.

xxxxx

None of you dared to speak first... almost like it's going to shatter the present moment, and bring bad memories to the surface. “I was afraid I had hurt you.” He finally confessed, almost shamefully. Start at the beginning, yeah... it was good. “I'm sorry I disappeared... I just panicked.” You answered briefly, but he cut you off almost immediately.“You don't have to feel sorry for anything, Y/N. I should. For everything.”  He really was. He wanted to tell you how sorry he was, how much he had missed you... and how much he loved you. But he didn't have the right. Not now, and maybe never. But repeating it to you, showing you how sorry he was and how much he regretted the way he had treated you... seemed like a good start. He wanted to be the best imprint for you... a friend, a protector. If you wanted him to be. He didn't want to be separated from you like that anymore. Never again.

xxxxx

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, the erratic changes in his breathing… and the heat radiating from his body which was enveloping you like a soft blanket. He meant every word. You were sure of it. And it was, indeed, a good start... yes. It was like a silent acceptance, like a secret language between the two of you... your throat tightening a bit before you wrapped your arms around him.

xxxxx

Jacob automatically tightens his embrace around you, selfishly accepting the gesture of affection you both needed so badly. He trapped your body against his, resting his chin against the top of your head as you stood on your tiptoes... inhaling his scent. There he was, alive and safe in your arms... and that was all that mattered right now. And you were going to make sure that it stays that way, no matter what.

xxxxx

But fate wasn't so lenient, you should have known that... it didn't rest only in your hands. Cruel reality exploded in your face that day, Jacob's scream echoing through the entire clearing at the same time as the sound of his ribs being broken by the newborn vampire. It all happened so fast. Leah had found herself trapped in the deadly embrace of one of them, Jacob had intervened... and now he was writhing in pain on the ground.

xxxxx

You had joined him in a few strides, stumbling alongside him as your heartbeat echoed through your ears. Carlisle stood by your side, examining the extent of the damage before the other members of the pack arrived in turn. His voice was twisted in pain as he tried to pronounce your name, squeezing your hand in his before the other wolves surrounded him to pick him up - Paul reluctantly pulling you away from your imprint. Tears filled your eyes, so much so that you hadn't even seen Bella arrive… the obvious horror on her face. How could this have happened? You thought you could change Alice's vision, you really believed you could... but you obviously failed. Literally.

[trilliastra]

[*drops a sterek fic after two years and runs away to hide*]

-

It’s all Cora’s fault and Derek will remain of the opinion that his life only went downhill the moment his little sister was born.

It starts with Sara, his sister’s friend, whose boyfriend turned out to be a jerk and would not let her inside his apartment to collect her things unless she took him back. And Cora volunteered Derek to help.

Derek didn’t really mind it at first, Sara only needed a guy to look strong (which he is), angry (which he was) and able to carry her stuff from place a to place b (which he did). But some weeks later Sara met a friend with an equally stupid boyfriend and said friend had another friend and then Laura heard about it and it suddenly became a thing.

Georgia, Nelly, Carmen, Lola.

Isaac.

“I could help, you know?” Derek had said after the fifth time he noticed the blossoming purple bruises on the back of Isaac’s neck, his scrapped knuckles. “If you need to get rid of your –” he lowered his voice, “boyfriend.”

Isaac had looked at him, wide eyed, before he confessed he isn’t gay and the problem was actually his dad. “Oh,” Derek had said, thinking for a moment before adding, “I could help with that, too.”

Turns out Derek’s intimidation skills were lacking when compared to his own father’s.

-

“You’re doing a really nice thing, Derek.” Isaac says one night, helping him with his hand. Asshole boyfriend of the night thought he could bag a few punches before letting Phill grab his laptop back. Derek was faster, and stronger.

Isaac moved in with him and Boyd two weeks after his dad was sentenced. He didn’t want to, at first, was still incredibly shy and scared of everything, including Derek, but he opened up to Boyd pretty quickly. Despite his built (and the fact he can bench press three times his own weight), Boyd is the softest person Derek has ever met.

“Sure.” Derek sighs.

“But?” He asks and Derek sighs again, looks away when Boyd walks into the room.

“I had a date.” Derek confesses and Boyd whistles in sympathy.

“How many times has it been, again?”

“Three.” Derek winces when Isaac presses the antiseptic over the cut. “I’m – I really like him.”

“You could just tell him.” Isaac says. “He’s a cool guy, I guess.” He shrugs, smiling. “Sometimes he’s an asshole. But not in a bad way.”

Derek huffs out a laugh. “Yeah.”

Stiles is an asshole, he likes teasing Derek when they are discussing ethics in the workplace and every way capitalism is stepping over immigrants, they banter and they quote books back and forth and while some people (his sisters) roll their eyes when Derek brings up some history fact, Stiles nods along, brings up another history fact that Derek didn’t know (or sometimes pretends not to know, just to hear Stiles talking about it), hands moving around as he explains his point or badmouths a historic figure that owned so much money ‘their great-great-grandkids are still swimming in the gold they stole from the natives’.

Derek is in love.

“What did you tell him this time?” Boyd asks, munching on his chips. He shakes the bag in front of them and while Derek takes a couple, Isaac shakes his head, still not used to being allowed good things.

Some memories are hard to forget.

“That my mom had stopped by to visit.” Derek says. He hates lying, he is not even good at it. The first time he tried to tell Stiles he looked like a wet cat after he got caught up in the rain, white shirt sticking to his chest, Derek’s cheeks had gotten so red, Stiles asked him if he was okay.

“Dude.” Isaac says, shaking his head in disappointment as he finishes bandaging Derek’s hand.

“I know.” Derek gives back, collapsing on his bed with a groan.

This is all Cora’s fault.

-

Okay. Stiles texts back when Derek has to postpone their date again. Derek can feel the disappointment through the message, mirroring his own feelings.

How about tomorrow night? Derek tries, stares at his phone for minutes until he realizes Stiles probably won’t text him back.

-

“Please.” Maria says, holding her cat with a bright smile as they talk in front of a coffee shop. She is trying to convince him to accept a coffee and Derek is trying to convince her he doesn’t need it. “How can I thank you?”

Derek sighs. “I didn’t do anything.” And it is true, her boyfriend wasn’t working when they arrived at the coffee shop and when they opened the door of the apartment upstairs, it was empty save for the cat that Maria is currently hugging.

“You were there for me.” She smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear and Derek already knows what’s coming.

It’s not the first time, probably won’t be the last. He has been invited for ‘thank you’ coffees, dinners, sex. It never felt right, though. Not with the guys, and especially not with the girls.

Sorry. He always says. Some of them are attractive, he supposes, but he was, and still is, very much gay.

“I’m—” he starts, but Maria’s eyes widen and when Derek turns around, a guy is stalking towards them, eyebrows furrowed in anger.

“You bitch!” He shouts, startling most of the costumers inside and the shop and the people walking around the street. “What are you doing?”

“Taking my cat back!” She yells back and Derek steps closer, eyeing the guy’s fists as he starts to shake with anger.

The guy notices his move and turns his glare to him. “And who the fuck are you?”

Before Derek can answer, Maria chimes in. “My boyfriend.”

“What the fuck?” It takes Derek a second to realize the words didn’t come from him, but from someone in the crowd, one of the onlookers that gathered around them to watch the scene unfold.

Two seconds after that, Derek realizes the person talking was Stiles.

-

That explains a lot. It’s the last message Stiles sends him before blocking his number.

Derek tries to call, talk to him after class, but his friends keep him away, Lydia going as far as brandishing a can of pepper spray in front of him, eyes shining with an unspoken threat.

“You should follow him to his dorm.” Isaac offers, weakly.

“Creeps do that.” Derek says. “I don’t want to be more of an asshole than I already am.”

“You’re not an asshole.” Isaac says, clasping his shoulder in sympathy. “I could – talk to him? If you want?” The offer makes Derek smile, touched. Isaac is still extremely shy in front of strangers, but just the fact that he considered doing it for him is enough.

“It’s fine.” Derek says. It isn’t fine, and they both know it, but he will pull through. Eventually. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

-

It’s harder that Derek anticipated, seeing Stiles during classes and not being able to talk to him, to tease him when Mrs. Schilder glares at him for using a pun that makes the entire room burst out laughing from second-hand embarrassment.

He is beautiful, Derek thinks at least ten times a day, and smart and kind and funny and Derek could see them being together for a long time, falling deeper in love as the time passes.

He should be used to not having good things. He grew up as a middle child, as a gay teenager in a small town where some boys were so far deep in the closet, they couldn’t find their way out, he should be used to not keeping the things he likes.

So why does it hurt so much?

-

“Derek—”

“No.”

“She needs—”

“Call someone else.”

“You are really going to leave her—”

Derek slams his book shut, kicks his chair back as he stands up. Cora’s eyes widen when someone tells him to be quiet and Derek simply ignores them. “I need to study for a test. Call someone else.”

Helping someone should feel good, it should make him happy, not feel like a burden. He is more than an angry guy with a strong body. He doesn’t even like confrontation. He started working out to burn his energy, to let out some of this anger that he’s been constantly carrying inside and he kept working out because he enjoyed it and now – now even that is ruined.

“Why are you being so selfish?” She asks and Derek knows, deep inside, that she doesn’t mean it like that, that she’s just as angry as him, humiliated by the fact he’s calling her out in the middle of the library. Still, that doesn’t matter now. Now, Derek is angry and sad and done.

“Fuck you.” He says and walks away.

-

His initial plan was to make it to his apartment, bury himself under the covers and not leave his room until his mother comes to give him an earful. Because she will, undoubtedly, when Cora tells her about it.

But Derek doesn’t make it to his apartment, he doesn’t even make it outside the library, simply makes a u-turn and heads for the dark zone, a space under the stairs leading to the storeroom where couples usually go to make out. There, he collapses on the ground, taking deep breaths, and buries his face in his hands.

This has been a long time coming, he thinks. He’s been on the edge for a while. This entire experience has made him remember how awful it was to pretend to be someone he wasn’t, to be only liked for his body or for his ability to pass the answers to the test without the teacher seeing him.

Some memories are hard to forget.

“Are you okay?” Derek flinches, surprised to hear Stiles’ voice. “Oh,” Stiles whispers, noticing Derek’s red eyes, the tears streaming down his face, “bad day, huh?”

“She was not my girlfriend.” Derek blurts out, head a mess of emotions: fear, anger, loneliness, regret.

“Dude,” Stiles frowns, confused, “I know Cora is your sister.”

“No.” Derek shakes his head, frantic. “The other day, at the coffee shop. I was helping her with her ex-boyfriend, I do that sometimes. He— he was an asshole and she needed help getting her cat back and I look strong and I know how to –”

“Woah, woah, slow down.” Stiles raises his hands, alarmed, and Derek realizes his own hands are shaking and he can’t breathe. “In and out,” Stiles whispers, “can I—can I touch you?”

Derek shakes his head, focusing on his breath. Panic attack, he remembers, suffocating. No touching. “Okay,” Stiles agrees, easily, “should I keep talking?” Derek shakes his head again, keeps his eyes on his hands. Talking is too much, listening is too much, breathing is too much. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No.” Derek manages to gasp. He doesn’t want to be alone.

Stiles nods, leans against the wall next to Derek and starts fiddling with his shoelaces, twirling them around wordlessly. Derek doesn’t know how much time it passes, but he keeps watching Stiles’ fingers moving distractedly, patiently waiting for him. With him.

“I’m sorry.” Derek manages to say, eventually.

Stiles sighs. “I know.” He closes his own eyes before turning to Derek. “You don’t have to explain.”

“I—” Derek swallows heavily, “have to.” He answers, before shaking his head. No, that doesn’t sound right, “no, I—I want to.”

-

They leave the library together, Stiles standing up first and offering his hand to help Derek up. Stiles doesn’t let go as they walk towards Derek’s apartment, squeezes his hand from time to time as Derek tells him about everything.

“You could have told me.” Stiles notes.

“I don’t know why I didn’t.” Derek confesses. “I guess I didn’t want you to see me as that guy too. Beefy Derek.” He laughs, humorless. “That’s the nickname my sister came up with a few months ago.”

Stiles groans, stops walking, forcing Derek to stop as well. “You are so much more than that.” He assures, touching Derek’s face softly though his eyes shine with certainty. “I love your brain, your cute jokes, the fact that you get my stupid history facts because you like history just as much as I do, and especially the way you care so much. College, people, the world.” He pulls him in for a quick, assertive kiss, and Derek immediately feels so light he could fly. But he won’t, because Stiles is keeping him grounded by the softest touch, the smallest smile.

“Cute jokes?” He manages to ask, arching an eyebrow. When Stiles laughs, he smiles.

“They are.” He insists.

“Okay.” Derek accepts the words easily, because everything seems easy when it comes to Stiles. “If I ask you out on a new date,” he says, “will Lydia pepper spray me?”

“I will stop her.” Stiles reassures, squeezing his hand again. “But before,” he adds and Derek feels his stomach turning with anticipation, “you have to know that I kind of hate your sister right now.”

“Oh.” Derek says. “Okay, I can—I can see that.”

“I’m sorry.” Stiles says, though he doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“Me too.” Derek agrees.

-

When Derek tells him about Cora’s apology and the earful his sister got from their mom, Stiles excuses himself to go laugh in the bathroom while Derek shrugs and goes back to eating his share of the pizza.

By the time they get married, Stiles and Cora have become best friends. Derek hates it (he doesn’t).

[cuddlesslut]

Beginnings

Chapter Ten of Home

Atsumu x fem reader, Suna x fem reader, Hinata x fem reader

Summary: a glance back

Warnings: some NSFW elements in this chapter

AN / so it looks like the chapters are going to be shorter than before but that’s just because I can only keep my energy up for so long. I really do enjoy writing but it’s easier for me to write smaller chapters rather than like before. Also I know Suna hasn’t been as present I promise we will be getting more of him soon! UNEDITED SORRY

Part Nine: Closure

You collapsed onto your bed immediately after getting home from lunch with Atsumu and you haven’t moved for at least half an hour. Emotionally you were exhausted. Seeing him and thinking about him still caused a pang in your chest but that reunion was needed. You needed to start moving past him, that much you decided. He was your first love and he wounded you in a way that may never fully heal but now there’s two amazing guys trying to help you move forward.

You let a long grown rubbing your hands over your face. This were complicated enough when you were still coming to terms with your felling with Hinata. God he must be wondering what the hell is going with you leaving with his teammate. Maybe Bokuto and Sakusa have already started filling in the blanks for him. You could see those idiots snickering to themselves when you had encountered the group earlier. A soft smile graced your lips thinking of those two. You missed those two, and their constant bickering. You had become close to the the team over the years. Having hosted several victory parties at your and Atsumu’s shared home.

A small tear slipped down your cheek running down your face as you lay staring at the ceiling. Just another thing you had lost because of the setter. You released the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Shaking that thought from your mind it did no good to dwell on those things now. Thinking back to your favorite orange haired man you felt slightly nervous about having to explain everything to him. Sho is nowhere near as dumb as most think ,yes he tends to get a little over excited missing some details but he’s really quite clever, so he’s probably figured out most things. It’s not like he wasn’t aware of your past you had spilled that too him a lot quicker than you had planned. You can remember that moment clearly. It was the moment your feelings for Hinata had first started becoming deeper than you had intended, even though you denied them for a lot longer.

You stretched sitting up the soft cotton sheets falling your lap as you yawned searching searching the room for the familiar sight of Shoyo’s bright orange hair. You rose your brow at the lack of his presence. The small apartment was silent. Which made you draw the conclusion that he was not here, he’s to rambunctious to be home and not make any noise not that you minded. You had a clue where he could probably be and your suspicions were confirmed as you heard him enter through the front door. It surprised you the first morning it had happened but by now you are used to Hinata going for morning runs.

He stood in the door smile spreading across his face upon seeing you awake in this bed wearing only one of his old game shirts from Brazil. Your hair still a mess and the purple marks he left last night peaking out from the collar of the crew neck. It was certainly an amazing sight for him to come back to. He leaned against the door frame lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe some sweat from his face. Now it was your turn to appreciate the view. His abs and delicious v coming into sight. Grazing your eyes down to his workout shorts that fit nice and snug against his defined thighs. God his thighs were a blessing in and of themselves. After your quick glance you look back up to the eyes of the man in front of you.

“You know I’ll never understand how you can have the energy to go running in the morning after the nights we have,” you chuckle.

A wide grin sneaks his way to his face “ sorry I’m not the one who can barely walk in the morning,” he winks.

Your jaw drops at his cheeky comment. “ oh yeah we’ll have to change that,” you state smug unsure where all of this confidence came from. Although you weren’t expecting his response.

His eyebrow quirked at your insinuation, before smirking “ alright that can be arranged sometime soon!” He chuckled enthusiastically.

Your eyes widened the scenario playing in your mind quickly.

Hinata loved the shocked but curious expression painting your features. The next thing you new Sho had bolted from his spot jumping into the bed knocking you onto your back as he hovered over you. His hot breath tickled your neck his lips grazing your pulse before giving a nip. One hand had sneaked under the shirt you wore grasping onto your hip while the other kneaded your breast. Your breath grew shaky. He lowered his head to the valley between your breast before looking up to you. Peering at you through his orange waves that dangled in his face.

“You know I still have plenty of energy to take care of you,” he teased his voice dropping an octave. “ so baby tell where do you want me.”

“I want you,” you bite your lip looking at the sinful man in front of you. Your hand grips his chin pulling him up to you face to face, your eyes drop to his lips before returning to his darkened eyes. “In the shower, now get your sweaty ass off of me!” You push his Lunky body of off you before standing.

He groans looking over at you “tease!” He yells.

You turn back sticking your tongue out at him, “ go shower loser im going to make some coffee and breakfast,” you yelled over your shoulder as you headed to the kitchen. Hinata enjoyed the view of you walking away before sighing in defeat, he was really grimy from his run, plus he could use a cold shower right now.

———

You moved around his small kitchen with an air of familiarity. It was about a little over a month since your agreement of friends with benefits began. After fixing a small breakfast and some coffee Shoyo finally emerged fully dressed and cleaned. Taking a sip from his mug and surveying the food you had made. He smiled.

“Damn Y/N this looks amazing!” He smile his signature smile. “You know it surprise me how a girl like you is single!” He doesn’t sense the mistake he had made immediately. You had never talked about why you didn’t want to date before. Not feeling your tragic history with love was appropriate pillow talk. You froze at this statement. Unwanted thoughts and memories swirling in your mind. All of your insecurities starting to surface. Hinata noticed the shift in the air immediately. It was hard not to as your hands grabbed at the counter for some stability. Your eyes trained on the surface, voice caught in your throat. How do you respond to that.

If there’s one thing about Hinata that is certain it’s that’s he’s incredibly caring. He moved around the corner of the counter standing next to your side placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hey Y/N are you okay! Was it something I said? I’m real sorry ya know!” You turn to him tears brimming in your eyes. He doesn’t speak again or ask you to just pulling you into him as you bury your face into his chest as you sob. He places a reassuring hand your back rubbing soothing circles onto your back hoping to help calm you.

It feels nice and it helps a lot more than you expected. Although guilt starts to build as you realize your crying in front of a man you only know through sex. God this is embarrassing. Before you can try to retreat. Sho navigates you to his sofa. After relaxing into the cushions you look up at him. While he’s trying to look calm and reassuring you can sense the worry in him.

He takes this moment to speak. “ you know you can talk to me Y/N I’ll listen to you about whatever you have going on, no judgment.” You sigh looking up at him. Looking up into his eyes you don’t know why you aren’t more hesitant but it honestly feels like you can tell him anything. And so you do. You tell him almost everything. Leaving out names and some of the more gory details. You tell him all about your heartache. And he sits and listens to you intently. Although he didn’t show it he was furious with how you had been treated. But he didn’t want to interrupt your venting. It felt really nice to actually talk to someone about everything and how you feel and Sho was amazingly supportive throughout the whole ordeal.

Wiping the mostly dried tears from your cheeks you gave Hinata a soft smile. “ thank you Shoyo I’m sorry I dropped all of this on you, it probably not what you signed up for.” You gave a nervous chuckle.

He returned your smile, looking at you earnestly, he gripped your shoulder gently making you look up at him. “Hey none of that non sense! You can always talk to me no matter what!” He smiled.

Your eyes shinned up at him with a forgotten emotion. “Really?” You questioned

His smile grew even bigger “Yeah! Absolutely! What are friends for!” He beamed!

Friends.... why did that word give you a pang in your chest.

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[hes-writer]

Ruin

Summary: im not sure how to summarize this without spoiling the story

Warning: angst, bits of fluff here and there

Word Count; 4158 words

A/N: the long-awaited part 6 of the Tarnish series! A collab with @devilinbetweenthesheet-s. My attention span is short itself so I've decided to split it up into two parts.

UNEDITED

___

Harry tried to see the brighter side of the situation because it truly was something to look forward to. Having the chance to get to know Halo was something that he should be grateful for. As Y/N said, Harry did not deserve to be a part of her life, despite the fact that he was the father. And somewhere, somehow— he understood where she was coming from.

Harry honestly wouldn’t know what he would do if the roles were reversed; if Y/N were the one to have been cheating on him. He would not have a clue if Harry would be as kind to her as she was with him. If an outsider were to assess the situation between Harry and Y/N, they would definitely choose her side to be in favour of. So far, Harry still wasn’t able to pinpoint what exactly Y/N had done wrong for him to be swayed by an illicit affair. Was there even a moment in time that he could vividly see where he made the decision to just up and betrayed her trust? Because if there was; either his memory has gone to shit or Harry was more of a jerk than he served himself.

To put things into perspective, Y/N was the perfect partner and Harry had somehow lost sight of that by cheating on her. Don’t get him wrong; Camille was good, great, even. Yet Y/N was an amazing woman who knew exactly what she wanted. Coincidentally, those were the same type of things that Harry needed, too. As much as it pained him to say it, Camille’s rejection of their own little family made him rethink his decision-making process. Harry has learned more about himself in these past few months than he did in his entire lifetime.

For starters, he cleared it up that he had absolutely no excuse for cheating on Y/N except the fact that his retention span lasted a good few years before he was in search of something fresh; something new and exciting. Maybe it scared him just how serious she was in having a family in the future that his subconscious thought that Harry needed one last hurrah to get the infidelity out. Besides, divorces are more complicated when there are children involved.

Secondly, being with Camille was an infatuation that lasted for a long, three years—beginning while Harry was in a relationship with Y/N. Feelings were still there for sure, but he just didn’t know if it was enough to make him stay, especially when Y/N and baby Halo were right there waiting for him. They actually weren’t; Harry just liked to pretend that they were so that he could justify the consequences of his actions.

Camille was trying to make things work with him; Harry could see that. However, there were only so many things that she could do to improve their relationship before she had to change the choices that she had made years prior. Camille really didn’t want to say that she had refuted the idea of not having kids for the sake of making a relationship prosper, but maybe it was what she had to do to make him stay. She wanted a happy life with someone who wanted the same things as her. Harry wasn’t the man who shared a mutual agreement and she was pushed to question her options.

Nonetheless, Camille and Harry stuck with each other because they were all they knew for the past three and a half years. It was definitely ironic for Harry to say that he couldn’t just leave a three-year relationship behind for another woman; because he had done that before. Now, he was a hypocrite too? His ego cannot take it.

____

Connor wrapped his arms around Y/N’s middle as she washed the dishes in the sink. Their water heater was broken so the stream that came from the faucet sometimes teetered from freezing cold to extremely hot. Right now, she was scrubbing the sponge on the porcelain as quickly as possible while the water was at the right temperature.

Y/N turned her head to the side, pressing a kiss on Connor’s cheek. He rested his chin on her shoulder, bobbing up and down as she moved her arms.

“Is this really a good idea, baby?” Connor asked, staring at the way her lashes fluttered in a pregnant pause, taking a deep breath.

She nodded, reaching over slightly to rest the wet dish on the drying rack. “Halo deserves to at least know her real father,”

And it was true. What kind of mother would Y/N be if she kept a secret like that from her own daughter? The past two years was a constant ping-pong battle of reaching out to Harry and sharing the news to him; then, Y/N would be hit with a shot of realization, wondering if this would ruin his current lifestyle.

“I understand. What if he leaves again? Hate to remind you but Harry left you once before, don’t think he’ll hesitate to do so again,”

She froze at Connor’s words. Y/N was aware that he only said that in good faith, to remind her of how hurt she was at the time and just how long it took for her to be able to finally breathe again.

One side of Y/N urged to still defend Harry. She wanted to turn and around, yell at him because Connor doesn’t know Harry as she does. Harry wasn’t the type to build a child’s dreams up only for him to personally manhandle the heart and crush it in his fist. There was a reason why he was a godfather to so many kids; Ruby, Arlo and Jackson—because he was capable. Harry was a nurturing father who put himself on the back burner in favour of making sure that the little ones were safe and secured. He had no problem being third if it meant that the kids were first, then Y/N, then him.

It all sounded so good in Y/N’s head; so well-rehearsed and very well thought out. The monologue that had somehow stuck in the sides of her brain like a script taped to the wall, ready for the time it needed to be recited. The shredded pieces of paper also reminded her that Y/N might’ve known Harry before, but she certainly doesn’t anymore. In fact, she knew just as much as Connor did.

Just like Y/N had grown and evolved into a new person, Harry was not the same guy he once was when they were together.

“I told him the consequences if he did,”

Connor pulled back, stepping away from her. “But wouldn’t it be better if we didn’t take that chance? Who knows what he might do. . .” He trailed off, grabbing a dry rag to wipe the water dripping from the dish.

Y/N took a leap of faith in letting Harry in. He was a wild card. He could promise one thing but would mean another. Or he could recite a vow and completely annihilate the person as he did with her. Yet somehow, Y/N couldn’t resist the opportunity to give him one chance. Maybe it was because a small part of her craved to re-create a happy family that they had always wanted.

“It’s a risk. I know that” Y/N rinsed a cup, swirling the water in circles. She felt like that whenever Harry was around.

“So why are you still doing it?” Y/N opened her mouth to answer, “And tell me the truth this time, yeah?”

Her boyfriend stared at her with an unreadable emotion in his eyes, lips drew taut in a straight line and arms were crossed over his broad chest. The pressure was immense on Y/N’s shoulders. She was torn between admitting what she had buried deep below the sand or simply glossing over it like a figure skater. Nonetheless, Y/N was on thin ice.

For years, she had flicked away the remaining feelings that stayed with her. But they were persistent in sticking by her side. It wasn’t like Y/N could completely erase Harry from her life--from who she was. She still dressed like him, evidenced by the matching pair of Gucci loafers she chose not to wear for the night in fear that he would coincidentally be sporting the same footwear.

Furthermore, they had a child together! Halo was the spitting image of him. It was hard not to be reminded by a man she once loved when their little baby was both of them mixed in one. So did Y/N still love Harry? She couldn’t deny how much her heart fluttered seeing him stutter over his words at the park. Y/N just wasn’t sure if it was from anxiety and nervousness or excitement and anticipation.

Unbeknownst to the couple, Harry had sneakily closed a sleeping Halo’s bedroom door. His trek back to the kitchen was slow, slightly afraid of the awaiting talk he and Y/N--and possibly Connor-- have yet to have. Harry wanted to be there for Halo and for Y/N every step of the way, but he knew that Y/N would not allow him around if his intentions were to cater to a relationship with her. She was already tolerating him as is.

Standing behind the thin wall that acted as a partition from the hallway to the kitchen, Harry carefully placed his hands against the barrier to steady himself. He didn’t know if his legs could take whatever answer would spill from Y/N’s mouth. If she admitted her true feelings, he would stumble and melt into a puddle. He would be confused, but Harry wouldn’t be opposed to it; he was in a relationship after all. If she denied it--which was the more likely option--, his heart would break silently in his chest.

Harry numbed himself of the guilt raking at his ankles. He was well aware that this was a private conversation but hey; it was not his fault that he had ears straining to listen to Y/N’s reply.

“Do you still love him?” Connor followed up, voice grim. Almost fearful to find out the truth. Harry was, too.

Y/N paused her thoughts as well as her actions, flinching at the sudden intrusion of Connor’s question. She flinched, yelping a little and jumping backwards when the broken water heater subdued the filtering liquid into a burning hot splatter on her skin. Connor picked his feet up in alarm, grabbing at Y/N’s wrist to see the minor injury on the back of her palm.

“Ow!” Y/N whisper-shouted, soothing the ache by situating it between her thighs before shakily showing it to Connor; the doctor.

“Let me see, baby,”

Harry peeked his head around the corner, almost losing his cover with the way his feet instantaneously wanting to move towards a hurting Y/N. Good thing he caught himself. Surely they would put two and two together and realize that Harry was eavesdropping.

That decision came with a laceration to his heart. Harry got a first-class ticket to register that the couple was everything he and Y/N were. The pet names, the domesticity of their actions. The caring glances and constant check-ups.

Deciding to come out of hiding, Harry almost had a heart attack when he turned the corner and was met face to face with Connor. His brows had dipped in worry, face determined to grab some cream to apply to the burn from their first-aid kit in the bathroom. Harry guessed that his whizzing thoughts failed to hear the quiet instruction.

The man jolted in surprise, stopping quickly in his tracks, “Oh hey! Is Halo asleep?” Connor gave him a smile despite the confusion etching in his forehead. Harry nodded dumbly, lips pursing like a fish. “Y/N’s just burned her hand, nothing too serious though,”

He looked over his shoulder to see Y/N eyeing the both of them suspiciously, still clutching the burnt skin close to her. “Oh, I see,”

Connor smacked a firm hand on his shoulder, stepping around him to grab the cream. Harry walked towards Y/N, noticing that she was soothing the painful ache with ice wrapped in layers of tissue. She was softly hissing through her teeth once in a while.

“You okay?”

She tilted her head at him, appearing to be dazed out in her thoughts. “Yeah, uh, nothing too bad,”

Harry kept his distance, leaning on the other side of the counter. He started off by saying, “Thank you for giving me this chance,”

Y/N graced him with a smile, standing up straighter when Connor appeared with a tube in his hand. Harry watched as he unscrewed the cap, placing it beside her. He squeezed a bit of the cream unto his fingertip before applying it directly on Y/N’s skin. She winced, wanting to pull her wrist away from his grip but Connor didn’t let her, “It’s gonna be fine, baby,”

He pressed a kiss to her temple, continuing to rub circles on the burn until Y/N visibly relaxed through slouched shoulders and less shaky breaths.

Harry was staring at them like a kicked puppy. He was fussy and frustrated all in one. He wanted the attention that Y/N was giving Connor. He wanted to be Connor, but both of them were too wrapped up in their little love bubble to notice Harry’s squinted eyes and pinched brows.

He was frustrated because even if he wasn’t the direct cause of her pain, Harry had somehow found a way to continue hurting her and Connor was always there to pacify his wrongful actions. Harry hated that this was how fate had planned his life.

Harry cleared his throat, raising a fist to his mouth, “Think I should go,” His thumb pointed over his shoulder, “Uh thank you again,”

Y/N snapped her head to him, gaze lowering in a timid manner as if she forgot that he was even there in the first place. Connor was the first to reply, “Alright, man. See you whenever,” He capped the tub, shoving it in his back pocket to return to its place.

She leaned on her tiptoes to press a kiss on his lips, muttering something in his ear that had Connor teasingly wrapping his hands on her hips. Harry looked away, taking long strides to the entryway instead.

“Harry, wait!”

He shuddered at the memory of the words that had changed his life when Gemma told him the truth. Harry’s shoe was half-way one when he turned around. “Yeah?”

Y/N was holding a folded brochure, “Halo has a recital this weekend for her dance class,” She handed it to him, “Maybe you’d want to go? You can bring Camille if you want but I think it would be better if you didn’t. She’s still new to this and I don’t want her asking too many questions until she can unders--,”

“I’ll go,” Harry cut her off, unfolding the folded paper. The venue was about twenty minutes away from his place. It was only an hour-long considering the skill set of two-year-olds but it was a fun way for parents to cheer on their little ones. Harry’s previously sour mood was now replaced with giddiness at the sight of his daughter in a pretty pink tutu, twirling on her feet. He was sure that Halo was born to become a performer like him.

She sighed in relief, puffing her cheeks out cutely, “It’s a private dance class. Pretty high end so the security should be okay,”

And there it was again. The constant reminder that Harry was otherworldly to some people. As much as he loved living his lifestyle, he sometimes wished that he was a normie. That was a lot to ask for considering his current situation with his daughter, but a man can dream.

“Got it,”

Y/N leaned over to show him the back of the leaflet, “Just show them this ticket and security should let you in. Halo wanted me to give that to you because she was too shy earlier. I know it’s short notice but I guess she was comfortable enough to ask you,”

Harry blushed at the admittance, mentally patting himself at the back for making his daughter feel at ease in a short amount of time.

“I’ll be there,” He pushed his heel to adorn his sneakers. Y/N bit her lip, she looked hesitant, “It’s okay if you don’t want to go, by the way. I can explain that you’re busy. She’ll probably understand,”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. Harry wasn’t going to ruin his progressive relationship with his daughter on ‘probably’. “Y/N, s’alright. No problem, yeah? I’ll be there,”

___

Where was he?

It was two days after the dinner and Harry’s promise of attending Halo’s recital was vanishing with each passing second. Every time the hand of the clock ticked to indicate that another minute had elapsed. Harry still wasn’t jogging through the carpeted middle of the small theatre to where Connor and Y/N were seated. Two empty seats were left at the end of the aisle to aid Harry--and possibly Camille--a smooth arrival without creating any distractions.

There were only five minutes left before the stage crew were to dim the spotlights illuminating the room. Y/N was checking her watch what felt like every second, clicking her phone on and off once in a while worried that something may have happened to Harry. Maybe security wouldn’t let him in. The gnawing feeling at the pit of her stomach suggested that Harry just forgot the event tonight but Y/N would cross the bridge when they got to it. Regardless, her nerves were left unsettled as swallowing proved to be more difficult with the way a sip of her water had her gulping audibly. Connor wasn’t there to lend a soft hand on her upper back to help her breathe.

Speaking of, Connor had taken the initiative to visit Halo backstage. The ballet teacher was growing weary of the way the little dancer ran out from beside the stage to stop in front of her parents, asking, “Where’s Hawwy?”.

Halo had done it three times in hopes of receiving an answer aside from, “He’s not here yet,” Y/N tucked a fallen strand of hair from the otherwise sleek bun from beside her cheeks. Her daughter’s form slouching as her pretty eyes watered slightly, “He’s not coming? You told me he was coming, mama,”

Y/N glanced at Connor nervously, being met with an ‘I-told-you-so’ look which didn’t really help the situation. Luckily, the teacher had approached them with a clipboard on hand, searching for the ballerina. The teacher had suggested that one of them stay with her behind the curtain until the show began. Connor volunteered.

“Better hope he comes or else we’ll have to deal with the consequences. I really don’t want to see her heartbroken before of a promise he couldn’t keep,” Connor muttered, following the woman but not before thumbing circles on Y/N’s flushed cheek.

Y/N knew that he meant well. She also didn’t want to comfort a heartbroken Halo because Harry failed to show up where he promised he would be. And now, with a little less than two minutes before showtime, Connor was sent back beside her. Parents were being ushered to find their seats before the lights dimmed and it would be difficult to maneuver through knees and legs.

“Is he here?” Connor questioned, draping a hand on her shaking knee. Y/N shook her head, casting another glance at the auditorium doors. He waved at Halo who peeked her head between the silk curtains, wandering eyes looking at the empty seat beside Y/N.

“No. Hasn’t texted or answered his phone either,” Y/N was about to dial Harry’s contact once more in a desperate attempt to reach him. However, the dimming lights indicated that it was too late. Connor laced their fingers together, offering apologetic eyes and a tight-lipped smile; they would have to nurse a broken heart later tonight.

_____

Harry was in the middle of buttoning his patterned shirt, staring at his reflection in the mirror to silently judge his fashion choice for the night. Was it too much for a kids’ ballet recital? He deemed that it was, stretching his arms to remove the fabric adorning his chest, moving to grab the pink, flamingo patterned shirt instead. He took his time, granted that he had about an hour before the recital started.

He smoothed the fabric over his broad shoulders, pausing when Camille walked in. Harry locked his green eyes at her through the mirror as she walked to their shared bed, sitting at the foot of it.

“What d’ya think?”

She hummed in response, absentmindedly nodding in agreement when Harry asked if it was good. Both Camille and Harry had talked about his relationship with Halo as soon as she landed at the airport. He didn’t want to keep any secrets from her. Fortunately, Camille was very understanding of his situation, offering him support and encouragement to build a bond with his daughter.

What Camille didn’t reveal was that she was a bit antsy of Harry’s relationship with Y/N. She meant everything she had said to him, but it was no guarantee that Harry would ignite another connection with his ex-girlfriend. Not that Camille didn’t trust him. It was just a bit concerning because she believed that how a relationship starts is how it will end. Harry certainly had a history of straying away from his present partner.

Harry was currently in their walk-in closet, finding a pair of slacks that weren't too formal or casual. Camille mulled the thoughts in her head. She loved Harry dearly and would do anything for him. Well, anything except having children of their own. He had mostly accepted her decision, only wincing a little when the topic of a family was brought up by mutual friends and family once in a while.

Truth to be told, Camille was scared. She was afraid that Harry would leave for Y/N because she had Halo. They were the family that he had always wanted and although Camille wasn’t too keen on giving him the same; she was debating on it.

“How’s this, Cam?” Harry retreated with two pairs of pants. On one hand was a pair of straight-leg skinny jeans that he hadn’t worn in years. The other held brown, corduroy, striped slacks. “Or this one?”

She bit her lip, standing up slowly, walking over to him. “What do I think?”

He nodded, innocently jutting his bottom lip at her as he looked back and forth.

Camille swathed her hands on his shoulders, ghosting her mouth over his ear, “I think I like you better without them,” Her finger traced his collarbone, swirling at the dip of his throat. “Without anything,”

Harry gulped harshly. He felt Camille unbuttoning his shirt, gliding her palms downwards until she was cupping his bulge, “Camille, wait,” He flicked his watch to check the time. It took twenty minutes to get there, maybe even more with traffic and parking.

She dragged him to the bed by the ends of his opened shirt, locking her lips with his plush ones. He rested a knee on the mattress, his hands at the back of her head as Camille continued to pull him down.

Pulling away, Harry panted, “What are you doin’?” He laid his creased forehead on hers.

Camille supported herself on her hands, moving her face back until she was able to get a clear view of his perplexed expression, “I was thinking that maybe we could. . . try having a baby, H,” Her voice was soft, almost timid and she was doing her best not to break eye contact to show her sincerity.

Harry gasped in surprise, “Wha--? Really? Are you serious?” His tone gained a pitch as excitement enthralled his senses. The smile on his face was wide and reached his bright eyes. “Baby, are you sure?”

Camille nodded, grinning softly. “Yes,’

“Oh my--this is. . .,” Harry pulled at the locks of his hair, pacing around the room. “This is great! Our own family. Jesus. I can’t believe it,” Tears sprung on his corneas.

He kneeled between her legs, taking her wrist and pressing a gentle kiss on her skin, murmuring ‘I love you’ repeatedly.

“Are you going to keep doing that?” Camille asked, spreading her legs rhetorically. Harry observed her position, nodding enthusiastically.

Another glance at his watch indicated that Harry was absolutely pushing it with being late to Halo’s recital. Yet one enchanting kiss from Camille wiped his thoughts clean. He was getting what he wanted; a family of his own.

___

Let us know what you thought! The seventh part of the Tarnish series will be uploaded on Patreon on Sept 29!

___

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[maeve-on-mustafar]

Can we talk about Anakin's relationships with other Jedi? Because I'm rereading books about Anakin's childhood at the Temple, and some things stick out.

Not in living memory - not even among the oldest Jedi Masters - could they remember a Padawan who was as gifted as Anakin Skywalker. He could have advanced through his Temple training in half the time it had taken him. From the beginning, he had been far beyond his classmates in lightsaber skills and mastery of the Force.

Yet in matters of the heart and mind, he still had much to learn, as Yoda continually pointed out. His teachers had known how gifted he was, but they gave him the same drills and assignments as the other students. They knew he was bored at times, but it was important not to single him out, not to treat him as special.

But Anakin was special, and they all knew it. The trouble was that he knew it as well.

From Jude Watson's The Way of the Apprentice

So, like . . . Anakin is the most gifted student at the Temple in generations despite being brought in at an abnormally late age. But the Jedi don't want to give him special treatment or a sense of superiority, so they don't provide any extra training for his astonishing Force powers. Instead, they let him remain in classes where they know he's bored and where he knows he's more advanced than all of his peers . . . thereby leading him to develop a sense of superiority.

Why isn't Anakin getting any extra training, if he's that special? Why does he have to be treated as any other student? What is the impetus here? Why not have him in regular classes during the day and evening sessions with Yoda or Shaak Ti or someone? What is the possible justification for not giving him extra help?

Slowly, he began to find it strange and liberating to be just another student. From the moment he had arrived at the Temple, he was whispered about. As the "Chosen One," the other students had kept an eye on his progress. Some were envious, some polite, some friendly, and some steered clear of him completely. But everyone noticed him. It was something that had been difficult for him in the beginning, but he had gotten used to it. Obi-Wan had told him that it was the best preparation for being a Jedi. He had to learn to screen out what others thought or speculated. He had to concentrate on his own path

From Jude Watson's School of Fear.

So, uh, at the Temple, Anakin is the constant topic of gossip and some of his peers avoid him entirely because he's the subject of the prophecy? If he's the consistent target of envy, speculation, and judgement, then yeah, he's probably going to grow an ego and get defensive? Like, why would anyone be surprised by that?

Then there's the book where Anakin prefers to be kept in drugged up captivity by made scientist lady Jenna Zan Arbor rather than deal with his actual feelings:

Anakin was thinking about detachment. It was the goal of Jedi training. It was a discipline that took years to learn. It was not about controlling emotion, but allowing it to flow through you.

Well, he certainly felt detached. He knew somehow he had been drugged, his brain chemistry altered, even though he wasn't sure how it had been done. Was this how it felt, he wondered, to be truly one with the Force? It was a peaceful place to be, so unlike the battles he usually fought in his mind and heart. Was it so terrible to reach this place through a simple procedure, rather than through years of study and trial? He had admired Obi-Wan's serenity, had envied it. Now he had it.

Why did he feel that Obi- Wan would not value it?

From Jude Watson's The Moment of Truth.

And then, finally, we get Anakin's direct thoughts on what the Jedi think of him:

They keep me here because I have potential they've never seen before. They keep me in training because they're curious to see what I can do. I feel like a rich man who never knows whether his friends are true-or whether they just want his money.

This was a particularly galling thought, and certainly neither true nor fair.

Why do they put up with me, then? Why do I keep testing them ? They tell me to use my pain-but sometimes I don't even know where the pain comes from! I worried my mother-and I tested her, again and again, to make sure she loved me. She sent me away so I could be brought up by stronger people. So I could control myself. And I still haven't learned.

From Greg Bear's Rogue Planet.

I think what bothers me the most out of all of these passages is that it's clear no one has ever sat down with Anakin and taught him that he has personal worth as an individual--which is important for everyone, but probably especially for former child slaves.

Every time Anakin thinks of himself, it's about whether he's doing well as a Jedi or not, or what other Jedi think of him, or believing that the prophecy and gifts define his relationship with them. It's almost as if he has an entirely transactional relationship with them and he knows it--he seems to believe that his place in the Jedi Order begins and ends if he can do what other Jedi want him to do.

And that's honestly tragic to me. Like, it's not explicitly stated, but it seems like an evident scar of slavery--that he believes he needs to meet all of their expectations as the Chosen One to be worthy, and he seems to think he won't be valued if he can't.

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Slipping Through My Fingers

Read here on AO3!

When it comes to his children, Bruce has very few regrets. He loves them completely, scars and all. He wouldn’t want to change a single part of them.

But he can’t lie and say that he doesn’t regret the timing with which each of these beautiful souls entered his life. Bruce has six children, but he’s never had a baby, and isn’t that wrong? Isn’t that a pity? He missed so much of their lives—so many milestones that every parent wants to remember forever but that he’s not even had glimpses of. He wasn’t there for the first steps or the lost teeth or learning how to ride a bike. He missed all of his children learning to talk, missed watching Sesame Street with them in the morning and making soapy mohawks in the bathtub. Bruce missed everything. He missed moments that he can’t get back, no matter how hard he yearns for a rewind. Take him back. Return to him the moments he lost without even knowing it until they’d already slipped through his fingers. Bruce has a few mementos to get him by, but they only grant him glimpses of the years he missed. Dick has a bin of old tapes from the Flying Graysons’ best performances that he likes to watch on bad days. Occasionally he’ll let Bruce watch with him. There’s something magical about watching the young boy in the tapes swing on the trapeze and pull gravity-defying moves, all the while knowing what a strong man that boy will one day become. Jason came to the manor with very little, having to travel light while on the streets. There’s a shoebox under the bed in his old room salvaged from his mother’s things, containing a handful of photos from Jason’s toddler years, a stuffed animal or two, some loose possessions. Bruce used to go through them after Jason’s death, just to give himself something to hold on to. Tim had more than Dick and Jason combined: plenty of photos, report cards, baby teeth, and coloring books all saved in storage. But as much as there was, Bruce still only had glimpses of the real Tim. Every family photo was stiff, like an assortment of plastic dolls. The papers and drawings that have been collected are too crisp, like they were shoved into a childhood folder and forgotten about without a second glance, not even making it to the refrigerator. All Bruce has of Cass’ childhood are videotapes of training sessions. He refuses to watch them, for both her sake and his own. Duke has a photo album he keeps in his bedroom, compiling plenty of baby pictures and family vacations. He’s only shown it to Bruce once. Otherwise, he keeps it in his bookshelf, untouched but for the handful of times he’s visited his parents, showing them old memories in case it will miraculously jog something and put the shards of them back together. The longer it doesn’t work, the less he’s willing to tell. The League of Assassins has an entire storage room of files on Damian’s development. Bruce has seen it. It’s like every move the boy made was monitored and catalogued, detailed without so much as a lick of emotion to remind anyone that this was a child being discussed. There were no shiny milestones to celebrate, only completed stages. No one commemorated his first word or first time seeing a butterfly, but his first time using a wakizashi sword earned five entire pages. If Bruce could go back in time, he would snatch up every one of his children and give them the lives they deserve, right from the start. No pain. No dead parents. No neglect, no heartache, no scavenging on the streets just to survive the night. He would wipe their slates clean if it meant he could stave off their suffering, just for a little while longer. He would do anything to go back.

Back when Bruce was a child and tragedy hadn’t yet torn his family to bloody shreds, there was one Fourth of July on which his parents took him to the circus. Alfred had an open invitation to accompany them, but, being a Brit, he politely declined from the day’s festivities. “I’ll have you know, young sir, that I served as a spy for the British forces and mentored Alexander Hamilton during his teenage years.” Bruce was ninety-nine percent sure that Alfred wasn’t alive during the American Revolution. That day was the first time Bruce had been to the circus. It was a local one, small with very few extravagant spectacles, but his father bought him peanuts and afterward the three of them watched the fireworks in Gotham Park. It was a day that imprinted itself on Bruce’s memory, sticking with him long after they were gone. So when he sees a flyer announcing that Haly’s International Traveling Circus is visiting Metropolis on the same day Bruce has an interview with Lois Lane for some column on America’s wealthiest men, how can he turn the opportunity down? The air is warmed by summer rays, the entire field radiating Metropolis’ natural brightness. The scent of peanuts and popcorn wafts from all sides and the classic tinkling circus music fills his ears. The show doesn’t start for another half hour, so Bruce settles on walking around, unsure of what to do with himself. He should get some photos to bring home for Alfred. He’s always had a fascination with jugglers. After some perusing, Bruce pulls up under a tree, shaded against the thick trunk. He’s just pressed send on the pictures to Alfred when he hears a voice from above. “Hey, mister.” Bruce looks up to discover a boy perched on a tree branch two feet above his head. The kid looks around six years old with black hair that curls around his ears. He’s wearing a bright red and green costume—obviously one of the performers. How a child his age came to be part of the circus, Bruce can’t begin to guess. He’s missing his front teeth and his skin, tan with a honey glow, makes his nationality hard to place. Bruce blinks up at the boy. “Hello.” The kid drops down and catches on the branch with his hands, dangling with his bare feet kicking in the air. “Whatcha doing here?” Now that he’s paying attention, Bruce can detect the slightest accent. Romani, perhaps? “Why does anyone come to the circus?” The boy laughs. “You don’t look like the kind of person who goes to the circus.” “Then what kind of person do I look like?” The boy thinks, swinging back and forth like a cartoon monkey. How his hands aren’t scraped raw from gripping the rough bark, Bruce doesn’t know. “A lawyer, maybe. Or a president.” The corner of Bruce’s mouth lifts. “I’m neither of those things, unfortunately.” “Well, I’m an acrobat.” “I can see that.” “But I do other stuff too,” the kid tells him, “like I know how to juggle and how to walk on stilts and how to throw knives at targets. I’m getting real good at that.” “Are you sure a kid your age should be playing with knives?” The boy laughs. “You think knives are scary? You should see it when they let me play with the tigers.” Bruce arches an eyebrow. “You play with tigers?” That can’t be safe. Maybe he should have a talk with the ringmaster and make sure someone is ensuring that no little boy heads are getting bitten off by mighty jaws. “Oh yeah, the tigers are the best.” The kid swings his body upward, letting go of the branch and pulling a heart-stopping somersault midair as he falls. He lands on his feet without a wobble. “I know all of their names and they’re huge, like they’re this big”—he stretches out his arms as far as they will go, which makes the tigers a whopping two and a half feet tall—”and sometimes I’m even allowed to ride them!” Bruce leans back against the tree trunk, crossing his arms with a smile. “Is that right?” “Yeah!” The kid then launches into a string of chatter, so fast that it takes all of Bruce’s focus to keep up. He tells Bruce all about the circus’ tigers: what breed they are, how many they have, what they eat, what their names are (their actual names and the names the kid gave them; Marshmallow is his favorite), and how his dad once gave him permission to hold a hoop while a tiger leapt through it. The entire time, Bruce can’t help but wonder, is this what childhood is supposed to be like? Swinging on tree branches and giving oral reports about your favorite animals to complete strangers? Is this what growing up is like for normal children? Bruce doesn’t know whether to be envious of this little boy or concerned. He’s so innocent; it bleeds from every grin. There’s nothing weighing this kid down—literally and figuratively—and Bruce finds himself silently praying to a being he doesn’t believe in that it never changes. Let this kid stay pure, untouched by the evils of the world. Let him go his whole life swinging on branches and talking about tigers without a single setback. After a good ten minutes when the boy’s tumbled into a handstand and has moved on to tell Bruce about his favorite elephant Zitka, a feminine voice rings, “There you are, Dick. I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” A beautiful woman approaches the pair, wearing an identical red and green leotard. She’s got matching black hair and blue eyes—too spitting of an image to be anyone but his mother. “Come on, sweetheart, we’re supposed to be backstage.” “Sorry, Mom,” Dick says, turning right-side up, but he hasn’t lost his grin. Now that he thinks of it, Bruce doesn’t recall it waning once in the entire time they’ve been talking. She takes in Bruce, suit and all, and plasters on a stage smile, sticking out her hand. “Mary Grayson. You’ll have to forgive my son, he gets excited easily. He’ll talk your ear off for hours if you let him.” But the glimmer in her eye gives Bruce an inclination that she has no problem being an audience for her son’s happy rants. Bruce shakes her hand. “Bruce. I take it you’re the Flying Graysons I’ve been hearing so much about?” “The very same. I hope you’ll be seeing our show tonight.” “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He winks at the littlest Grayson, who beams. Mary ruffles Dick’s hair. “Well, this little robin and I should be getting ready now. It was a pleasure meeting you, Bruce.” “Likewise.” He leans down and shakes Dick’s small hand. “And if you ever come to Gotham, maybe you can tell me more about those tigers, eh?” Dick looks like he contains the sun itself. He’s sunshine incarnate. “Definitely!” He drags his feet when his mom starts leading him away, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “Bye, Mr. Bruce!” He waves his hand like a windmill of its hinges, and Bruce can’t help but return it. Bruce hasn’t felt this content in a long time to the point where he has to stop in wonderment of it. It’s unlikely that Haly’s will end up coming to a place like Gotham anytime soon, but Bruce hopes for it anyway. After all, Gotham could use some sunshine.

Here’s the rest of it on AO3 because I don’t feel like formatting all 7,000 words on here lmao.

[im-like-if-a-girl]

*THE* mean-girl-dean-girl's Supernatural reboot MEGAPOST!

I'm gonna stick a little "keeping reading" here because hoooooo boy, this is a very long post.

Let's start with

Plot

Season 1

Dean kills John while they are out on a hunt in a crime of passion, but Dean doesn't remember because he blacked out. Cue Dean going to Stanford to get Sam and tell him "Dad's on a hunting trip... and he hasn't been home in a couple days."

The audience doesn't know what happened to John, but slowly figures it out with Dean and Sam as Dean slowly remembers what happened that night.

The entire first season, the boys are following the trail John left and fighting monsters as well. They find out Dean was with John, Sam realizes Dean has an unreliable memory, they have heart to hearts about their childhood and the fire, they find John's body, "how could you kill Dad?" but maybe Dean didn't kill dad, whooaaaaaa, misdirection.

It was actually good ole yeller eyes (Azazel) and he made it look like Dean killed John.

Okay, now let's move on to the first episode

Not sure how the opening would work, I would like the story of the fire to be revealed over the course of the first season, but maybe the opening scene could be a little bit of an establishing character relationships and backstory, idk, I haven't thought that far yet.

I'm thinking maybe it's like, Dean gets back to a motel room covered in blood and he listens to a voicemail on his phone from John saying he was on a hunt or something, I don't really know lol.

HOWEVER

I do know that after the intro rolls, we get a scene of Sam waking up to his alarm and "Nine to Five" by Dolly Parton starts playing.

Y'all know where this is going.

Cue a montage of Sam's normal Stanford college life (him sitting through lectures, walking through the campus with friends) spliced with scenes of Dean absolutely slaughtering a nest of vampires (or some other monsters, whatever works best.)

But

Now onto

Characters!!! (And descriptions)

Dean Winchester

Some lovely person on this site made edits of Dean with platinum blond hair and it made me feel some kind of way so we're doing that, homie's gonna have platinum blond hair

Side note about the hair, later when the brothers are running from the FBI he dyes it a dirty blond/light brown (insert jackles hair color controversy here) as a disguise.

He also gets tattoos because we were robbed.

Speaking of tattoos, concept: when Dean comes back from Hell, all of his tattoos are gone. His body is a clean slate, devoid of tattoos, scars, etc. So he gets his tattoos done all over again, which he doesn't mind because he made some bad, drunk tattoo decisions in his youth.

(And before you ask, yes, he does get one for Cas, either a bee or Cas's name in enochian, something cute.)

Dean goes to therapy after Sam gets sent to the Cage.

It's actually court mandated because he got in trouble, lol, he would never go to therapy on his own.

Along with the hair, Dean gets to be the grade A twunk we all know he is.

Sam Winchester

His hair gets longer in every scene he's in

No jk, but imagine

King of Microaggressions

Sam starts off like the sweetheart he is in season 1 but in later seasons he starts enjoying killing a little too much...

It's that demon blood, ba-by!!!

He brings up issues of morality to Dean, i.e. killing monsters who aren't hurting anyone. (Yes I know this is contradictory to my previous statement, but these two facets of Sam can and will coexist.)

Sam and Jess's relationship is explored further, meaning we'll need to start with a different inciting incident, but that's fine, I think everyone can agree fridgings are *(thumbs down)*

Sam doesn't truly know what happened the night of the fire until later, and then he understands why Dean is so protective of him.

Jess

She gets to live beyond the first episode

She is also trans

No, I don't feel like I have to explain myself and I won't 💜

She urges Sam to join Dean in a search for their brother, kind of gets pulled into the hunter lifestyle by association lol.

She dies on a rusty nail after fighting vampires on a routine hunt with Sam

No jk!!!

But imagine....

She's amazing and I love her and Lucifer also uses her as leverage against Sam and possesses her because I think that'd be cool.

She supports Sam 100% and also she and Dean are buddies, pals if you will.

She meets Cas Thee El and immediately she Knows, that is a homosexual.

She dies still so that we can have a Saileen Endgame but she's not dying the first episode or in a fridging. Not on my watch.

Castiel

He gets to keep his raw, light-fixture-exploding power.

I want more of that "I pulled you out of hell, I can throw you back in" energy except over dumb shit like Dean not cleaning up after himself.

He looks like a Dilf in every scene he's in, yeah, that's right, dilf with a capital D for *(GUNSHOTS)* *(gets sent to horny jail)*

Claire

She gets pink hair

And more time with Cas

And maybe a nose piercing

Feel like she should be able to kill a couple angels onscreen, punch a couple homophobes

She gets to meet Jack and teaches him swears and fun slang words.

She deserves it.

Jack

I says "that's my baby and I'm proud."

Jack starts off as a baby, but like Amara he grows up super quickly.

Like, baby to 11 year old in a couple days or less.

This is because Jack's emotional age on the show is on par with that of a 5th grader.

It's at this point when he's a young kid that he runs away from the Bunker and shenanigans ensue.

It's also at this point that Dean threatens to k*ll him.

(Still not sure if I want that in my Supernatural (threatened infanticide? In my Supernatural? It's more likely than you think) but we'll see. We'll see.)

Throughout a majority of season 13, Jack is like an 11 y.o. kid

Season 14 he's like a 16 y.o. teenager

Season 15 he's 21, you get the picture.

Listen, I love Alex Calvert a lot. He's great.

But Jack is a child and should be a child.

Kelly Kline

Kelly, baby, stay right where you are, you're perfect.

Eileen

SHE DOESN'T DIE

SHE GETS TO BE IN THE FINALE BECAUSE SHE'S AMAZING AND I LOVE HER.

BLURRY WIFE WHO? I ONLY KNOW SAILEEN ENDGAME!

She teaches Claire and Jack swears in sign-language. Castiel is not impressed.

John

J*hn W*nchester stans, DNI.

He's dead.

We only see him in flashbacks and only sometimes hear his voice in voice overs.

He's not "down the road" from Dean in Heaven, in fact he instead gets to wander around in some Purgatory like Hell for the rest of his time :)

People who get to say "fuck" on the show:

Cas (but only Once)

Jody

Bobby

Now onto other things

I want more of

Ghostfacers

(they need more screentime because I love them)

Dean/Benny

We know they had a thing.

They definitely had a thing.

Demon Dean

Again, I feel like more should've been done with this. All that build up for what, 2 episodes? was not utilized well at all.

Dean's Bisexuality

Straight Dean truthers DNI, my Supernatural is a show about love and being true to yourself

You think Supernatural is a show about 2 straight brothers fighting monsters?

Naw bitch, this is a show about the Gay Experience

He will get to have relations with men on this show.

Of course, only after John dies does he, y'know, display it. Maybe he kisses Cas on his dad's grave just to fuck John over, make him roll in grave.

We all agree John would be/is a homophobe piece of shit, right?

Okay, glad we're on the same page.

Dads

3 men and a baby with Jack is what I'm saying.

I love it when the Trio are father-figures to younger troubled characters they see themselves in, even better if it's like reluctant-but-loving father figure, oh, that trope gets me every time :'^)

Dadstiel and DadDean are my favorites, but I like it when Sam plays "Uncle Sam" to kids too lol.

"Fellas, is it gay to want a tight knit family with your husband, his son, his vessel's daughter, your brother, his wife, your cop mother figure and her wife and their adopted daughters? Asking for a friend."

Garth

Biggest flaw of Supernatural was underutilizing Garth.

I will never not be bitter that Garth was only in like, 7 episodes out of the whole 15 season series.

Every episode with Garth gets immediately 5 times better.

I love Garth.

Follow ups on characters who had entire episodes featured around them and then just... vanished???

This is mostly about Jesse, the magic kid whose imagination ruled an entire town like, his daddy was a demon and nothing came of that kid??? Only one episode about him?? No follow up???

KID CAN MANIPULATE REALITY AND WE'RE NOT GONNA GET A FOLLOW UP ON THAT?????

Uh, there was that one episode with Ennis the guy whose girlfriend was killed by a monster? I think?? Who we never see again, that was weird.

Tamara from season 3, episode 1.

And of course-

Cassie

She was so cool, and then we never saw her again :////

She gets to be a badass.

Religious imagery

As a former Catholic school student who has become for the most part, disillusioned with religion, religious imagery in TV shows like Supernatural make my brain go "brrrrrr."

Fun episodes!!!

Like, after season 6 or so, there's a drop in funny episodes

I'm talking Changing Channels, The French Mistake type stuff. (Scoobynatural is an outlier and should not be counted.)

So anyway

In my version we would have more fun episodes

I'm thinking

GENDER-SWAP EPISODE, BABY!!

(why they didn't do that in the original, we'll never know.)

An episode where Dean gets to wear eyeliner

That's it, end of post.

I want less

Racism

Yeah I feel like this is self explanatory, nearly every reoccurring character in SPN is white, and black side characters normally die in the episode they first appear in, or they'll be featured as a villain (Uriel, Raphael, Billie, etc)

Also there's a lot of... uh... asian fetishism featured in the show (what with "Busty Asian Beauties) that's really gross, also Kevin was a bit of a stereotype...

Also also it's super yucky how they kill the gods from other religions like???? Uh??? That's super disrespectful, let's not do that????

I know Supernatural is like, inherently racist because monsters are a separate race that are seen as some dangerous "other" that must be eradicated by hunters in a form of genocide-

Okay we won't get into that but

Still

Stop killing all your POC

Fridgings/Unecessary murders of female characters

I know Supernatural starts with a fridging, so this will be a hard thing to remedy, but

One death that really pissed me off was the death of Charlie

Yeah, that was pointless and we're not doing that. Charlie gets to live and be an awesome aunt to Jack.

And also Claire

Charlie Bradbury Superiority

Charlie and Garth get to meet because they're nerd/geek solidarity.

British Men of Letters

I fucking hate these guys

They're "litcherally" the worst.

The worst part is that the actors they have playing the British AREN'T. EVEN. BRITISH.

And you can tell

Uh, and that's all for now, I'll add more later.

tag list for people who liked my "if this post gets one like I'll post my SPN reboot masterpost" post.

@darianyunidi @sarasidlesaid @crazybananaalpaca @playfulpanthress @ultfreakme @fififeelsmellow @heller-char @luna8eaton @princessmeganfire @insanebot109 @queenofnightsnow @mongoose-underthehouse

Thank you for the support, hope the wait was worth it.

[hyperfixationtimego]

Alright we’re trying this angst thing again

Diamond Brothers Angst because I said so

Both Daiya and Mondo have huge self esteem issues bc of the crash

Both think stuff along the lines of what the fuck I could have prevented that

Neither Daiya nor Mondo can sleep very well because when they hear vehicles driving past and the occasional screeching tires they’re back at the scene of the accident

They hear a semi truck rumbling past? Suddenly neither of the brothers remember how to move or breathe properly

They both survived the crash but they were both injured severely bc fuck dude that was a truck that hit them

The Crazy Diamonds witnessed the whole thing and they were Worried™️

And we all know how the Owadas hate being vulnerable

Neither of the brothers could actively ride their motorcycles for a long time after the crash because they couldn’t handle it emotionally

They played off their mental recovery time as time in the hospital

Daiya made Mondo promise not to get back on his motorcycle, much less the road, until he was 100% sure that he was prepared to handle it because what if there’s another freak accident that neither of them have control over

Mondo made Daiya promise the exact same thing because He Cares™️

Mondo has reoccurring nightmares about the crash and often sees Daiya dead in those nightmares

The gang shows up in the nightmares too and they’ve all been hit and it’s all Mondo’s fault and he couldn’t be a good leader because he wasn’t strong enough and why couldn’t he just be more like his brother god fucking dammit

Sometimes he sees Taka or Chihiro in place of Daiya and the Diamonds and that Absolutely Terrifies Him™️

Daiya has reoccurring thoughts about hijacking a truck to hit the driver who hurt him and his little brother

He wants them to feel all the same pain and more that they put the Diamond Brothers through

Daiya has breakdowns over this because even if he is a gang leader, he would not go that far

cue the Am I A Bad Person Complex™️

Mondo does not let himself stim

He doesn’t think it’s manly and it definitely doesn’t fit the Tough Guy™️ act

This leads to worsened focus and next thing you know he and Daiya are having a yelling match at home because if Mondo’s grades drop any lower he’ll be expelled soon and Daiya just wants the best for his brother but nothing works out the way it was planned

One time Mondo received a popsicle stick and paper heart from Taka

He was extremely happy

When he got back to his dorm he was that happy that he was shaking and then oh shit

Mondo broke it

He snapped the popsicle sticks in half

the note that Taka wrote,, it got ripped in the process

Mondo full on sobbed over this for an hour at the least

Like

Actual

Real

Tears

He broke something that Taka— not just his bf, but his best friend— had worked so hard on to make just for him and he fucking broke it like a shit for brains idiot

Mondo is terrified of hurting his friends

Because what if he forgets to take his adhd meds one day and his emotional dysregulation is all fucked up and he has an outburst again and actually hurts his friends

Or what if he takes 2+ doses by accident and focuses too hard and is left staring at one (1) spot and everyone hates him and what if they think he’s a creep

Mondo hates going out of his dorm at night because what if someone else is out and they have a flashlight and now they’re pointing it at him and it’s bright and those are headlights and that’s

that’s his brother

on the ground

not moving

Mondo will start shaking and he’ll break down hyperventilating or freeze on the spot

Either way, he hates being vulnerable

Whaddaya think? :D was that enough angst?

also can you tell that i kin Daiya on the dl bc i too got hit by a moving vehicle to save my young mer sibling from being hit /lh but also srs lmfo

HEY TINK??? HEY TINK????????

GodDAMN make me cry over this shit oKAY-

also sorry this took ✨forever✨ I had to gather my Thoughts™️ and my brain did not want to work today 😌

also before we get into my things, tw for trauma (obviously), unhealthy coping mechanisms, underage smoking/drug relapse/smoking as a crutch, and suicidal ideation (passive, but still there)

First of all, y e a h oh my god?? There is literally so much internalized guilt for both of them,,,,,like they rlly do have episodes sometimes where they just. Play over the events of what lead up to the crash in their heads and fixate on what they could have done differently,,,,,even though in the moment they both did their best? Like “well, I shouldn’t have taken us down this street” or “if I had acted quicker, maybe it wouldn’t have happened” and.....yeah those thoughts really fuck with them, y’know?

and 100% that unexpected/overwhelming vehicle noises and/or presences are nearly debilitating. Honestly, I imagine that Mondo can’t go hang out with Leon and Taka or whoever else if said people are hanging out in Kaz’s workshop. Owada’s only ever been in there once and immediately had to leave when he heard Kazuichi starting an engine he was working on. Not to mention being surrounded by a shit ton of vehicles, even if they were idle, had kept him on-edge the entire thirty seconds he was able to handle it.

They both deal with a lot of phantom pain, as well. Like something triggers them and suddenly, even if they’re able to remain in the moment and keep conscious of their surroundings, they somehow feel every ache, every twinge of pain, every breaking bone, or bruised patch of skin that they felt on that day. It’s a lot more prominent in Daiya than it is with Mondo, but they do both experience it!

And neither one lets the other know when they’re feeling like shit or having an episode because 😌 Daiya. wants to be strong. for his little brother. and Mondo. sees his brother basically functioning like a typical person. and figures that there’s something wrong with him. because he can’t get over what happened.

Takemichi is absolute shit with Emotions and being vulnerable or getting people to open up to him, but he’s like..........internally these bitches are Not Okay what the fuck am I supposed to do about it???? So he kind of...tries to hint to both of them that he’s worried? Without making it obvious or embarrassing them, but he’s like.......fuck these assholes.......making me be the one to make them realize they need help goddamnit........

And michi exhibiting a change in behavior is pretty 👀 because. it’s michi I mean he’s not just gonna change the way he talks in front of u for nothing, u know? So both Daiya and Mondo are actually able to pick up on it, although their reactions differ pretty greatly.

Like Daiya’s first thought is “wow, he’s worried, that’s really sweet of him. Better convince him everything’s okay.”

Meanwhile Mondo’s is “wow, he’s worried. my stupid emotional turmoil is that obvious. he must think I’m some sorta fuckin idiot for not being able to get over it. or selfish. or both. yeah, probably both.”

Also I think Daiya’s pretty perceptive in general? Like he can Tell™️ that something’s going on with his brother, but........yeah emotional conversations....vulnerability......that’s rlly neither of their strong suits. + he also figures that if it were something mondo were really really really having trouble with, he would come talk to him!

And so Daiya has absolutely no concept of just how Not Good his brother is doing right now hbbvvvv

So he settles for being like “I’m just gonna stay strong and act like the memories and intrusive thoughts aren’t affecting me in any way because I want to be a good role model” (which. is not healthy obv)

oh g o d the nightmares

they are so horrible and vivid and concentrated at times that Mondo simply.....refuses to sleep. He’s exhausted, both mentally and physically, and yet he can’t bring himself to close his eyes because he knows what he’ll see if he does.

And of course it affects him to the point that his friends start to become worried. Like Taka notices a stark increase in tardiness or general absences, and, after an initial assumption that it was simply Mondo choosing not to care about his academics again, realized that there was probably a lot more going on than he realized. He really, really wanted to bring it up and let his boyfriend know that he’ll always be there for him no matter what, but he couldn’t quite figure out how to articulate it properly. The farthest he gets is with the question, “is everything okay?”

And as much as Mondo wants to respond to him by saying that no, in fact, everything is not okay, everything sucks and everything hurts and he’s tired and he hates himself and sometimes he wishes that the crash had killed him, but that’s selfish so he should shut up- he just.....can’t bring himself to open himself up like that. Yes, he and Ishi are dating, so logically he should be able to tell him all this, but.....it’s so much. It’s too much. Too much to think, too much to feel, let alone try to explain. So he shuts himself up with a quick, curt, “Yeah.”

And....Taka knows he’s lying. He’s not sure how he knows, but he does. And it hurts to see someone he loves so much in such a state of anguish, and basically be unable to do anything about it because....how is he supposed to respond? What is he supposed to say? Navigating everyday interaction is difficult enough without having to improv something that could affect his partner’s mental health indefinitely. So....he does his best. Which isn’t enough, really, but it’s something.

“You can tell me anything.”

Mondo wants to believe him.

—

Another side of that same coin is Mondo skipping class a lot more than is typical for him. It’s almost always with Leon, but he’s also begun slipping away on his own, occasionally, as well, now.

And....y’know, at first, Leon thought it was super rad that Owada and he were skipping more! Like it used to be that Kuwata would offer for them to miss the next class, and Mondo’s usual answer would be ‘not today,’ and then Leon would keep bugging him about it until Mondo either gave in or told him to fuck off.

But....there’s just something about how it went from Leon being constantly shut down, to being told yes around the first few times the idea was brought up, to how, suddenly, Kuwata wasn’t even the one asking, anymore. It’s....depressing? Uncomfortable?

There’s also the fact that hanging out while they’re cutting just....isn’t as fun as it used to be? Leon’ll crack jokes or come up with stupid dares, and Mondo’s responses will be noncommittal at best. And Leon’s had enough experience with sleep deprivation to know it in his friends when he sees it.

He’s never been put in this situation before - usually it’s kuwata having some sort of stupid episode and usually it’s owada who’ll tell him to chill the fuck out and think rationally about things, but....Mondo acts a lot different when he’s upset than Leon does. He smokes more. Cuts himself off from everyone. Doesn’t engage with anything.

It’s different with people like Toko, or Makoto, or Kaz, because Leon knows what they need. He knows whether or not they need vulnerability, or a physical presence, or tough love, or tactile grounding, or a willing ear or shoulder to cry on, but with Mondo......he just isn’t sure.

So Leon doesn’t comment.

——-

Chihiro’s probably the one to get him to open up about it ngl.

ANYWAY-

y e a h Daiya intrusive thoughts?????? fuck yeah???? absolutely??????

god yeah I rlly feel him on that ngl hbhdbdbdbbb

and MONDO DARLING 🥺

god okay it SUCKS because????? he doesn’t judge his friends for stimming????? Like he sees his friends fidgeting or repeating phrases or rocking back and forth and he’s like???? Hell yeah you go u funky kid ilysm

But when it comes to himself????? he’s like if I do anything aside from stay perfectly still, I’m weird and bad and a failure so I simply Will Not

he’s wrong but it doesn’t change the fact that he feels that way ❤️

hhhvhvvdd I’m also a slut for daiya doing his best as a makeshift parental figure,,,,,,,like fuck dude okay,,,,,,as an older sibling who also loves and cares about their younger sibs but often finds emotionally connecting with them to be difficult,,,,,,,,,mood??? And having all of that amplified by rlly being his younger bro's only support in his home life,,,,,,,like ok mr. owada go off

he feels a lot of pressure to get it right and make sure that Mondo's doing okay, so the grades really worry him. but, of course, grades are a touchy subject with mondo regardless, so as u said it devolves into arguments and yelling and a lot of defensiveness!!

and god okay,,,,,,,the heart rlly got me,,,,,,,like that hurt. it rlly hurt man okay damn

honestly??? I think that might be the thing that gets him to break. like that might be his final straw.

because when they meet up again, Ishi asks him about it and whether or not he liked it. And Mondo just.

fucking.

breaks.

down.

He’s shaking and he’s crying and there’s snot running down his nose and this is so ugly and so not manly but he can’t stop. he can’t stop. Because there is this sweet, gentle, kind, sweet, beautiful, darling, sweet man before him who did something so nice for him, something he didn’t deserve, and he destroyed it.

Like he destroys everything.

And so when Taka panics and asks him what’s wrong (yes Ishi gets worried that he did something bad and yes ishi also gets worried that his boyfriend didn’t like the present because hdbdvdvd kin 💛) owada just. spills everything. and he doesn’t even begin with the gift??? he starts with apologies upon apologies, many of them incoherent, and many of them with Mondo not even certain what he’s apologizing for, just that he knows he needs to

and ofc Taka is like o-o because wow ok

but after his initial shock, and after Mondo has thoroughly cried himself out and explained everything he could stand to explain at that point in time, Taka just......holds him. And strokes his face, brushing away the tears that have not yet dried, simply offering his body as a weight, as something for Mondo to ground himself with. And it works.

And Taka insists that Mondo has nothing to apologize for, only that he wishes Mondo would have told him what was going on sooner. Because he wants to help. And hearing that just gets Owada’s waterworks going all over again, but he’s still got Ishi there with him. He hasn’t scared him off.

And it’s more than enough.

—

and UGH yeah????? yes absolutely absolutely okay okay so,,,,,,,,mondo comorbid adhd/depression/anxiety

like sir 🤝

got me fucked up smh

honestly he’s probably not diagnosed with the depression or anxiety, either, until something like the incident with ishi prompts him to realize oh wow I’m not okay actually

so yes he 100% does???

he constantly has all of these what if situations swirling around in his brain about what might happen if he fucks up, or does something that he doesn’t qualify as fucking up in the moment, but leads to something awful or painful or harmful for someone else, and he’s just??????? g o d

[jadelotusflower]

Robin Hood Rewatch: 1x13 A Clue: No

“Previously on” recaps can be annoying, but there is an art to it and I love a good one. This is a very, very good one, summarising the last episode with ramping tension as the music builds, then cuts to a different take of the last scene as the theme song starts, and we’re into the opening credits.

This is a long one, so it’s going under the cut:

Guy estimates that the “inner circle” of Robin’s gang is “a dozen at the most” and I find it very funny that neither he nor Vaisey have twigged that it’s always the same five people around him. What’s more annoying than funny is that they don’t know how many are in the “outer circle” because that really should have been A Thing in the show (Forrest and Hanton should have come back to guest star! I will never let this go!) After all, we see Little John with more men in the first episode, there are other outlaws in the forest/across the shire that are either working with Robin, or pose a risk to them, and I wish this had been explored.

Djaq manhandling and holding her sword to Pitts’s throat - I love Djaq.

The first arrow Robin shoots is intended for Vaisey, but one of the guards inconveniently walks in front and gets it in the chest. The second arrow is intended for Vaisey as well but he ducks (”my tooth!”) so we can’t fault the writing for a credible attempt at Why Doesn’t Robin Just Kill The Sheriff, because in this scene at least, he tries.

Bye Pitts. You certainly were.

I actually really love this scene (which probably seemed odd given the high body count), but Robin drawing his sword and charging, with Much, Djaq, and John backing him up to avenge Marian’s apparent death/make a final stand, as the music shifts from the jaunty Rescue Theme to Marian’s Theme, just gets me every time.

Although thanks to the cast commentary, I can’t unsee Djaq flipping that guy over her head twice, but hey, it’s a badass move. Clearly they didn’t shoot enough coverage of this fight, because we get the same action from several different angles.

Other than the flashback in episode 8, I think this is the only time we see Robin in Crusader mode, and just how lethal he (and the gang) can be when unleashed and with nothing to lose. Even when the enemy retreats Robin remains kind of wild-eyed with rage unsated, and it takes a beat for him to snap out of it. It’s symbolism time - he sticks his sword in the ground and leaves it there, and we don’t see it again this episode (or much in season 2).

There’s some nice acting going on from everyone in this scene - just utter exhaustion, Allan and Will oblivious to why the rest are so distraught, Much taking it upon himself to tell them but can’t say the words, and Robin with the finality of “she’s dead.” Their faces!

Djaq is still holding two swords as she enters the cave, which is a nice character beat - no doubt the fight also brought back unpleasant memories/triggers for her, and she remains on edge, for the moment unwilling to give up her defences even when the threat is gone.

I really love this scene too (the gang mourning Marian) and I think it’s quite deftly written - Djaq’s immediate reaction being the importance of a quick burial (as per Islamic tradition), Robin trying to keep it together, attempting to ask John/Will to build a coffin but unable to, so deflecting to ask Djaq to prepare Marian’s body, before trying twice again; John soothing him and taking charge. Will’s single tear and speaking of Marian’s goodness. Much responding with “Good? Oh, she was... She was...” looking to Robin because of course his thoughts are for Robin’s grief before his own, and also that his own relationship with Marian was complex. Allan: “She was alright...yeah” that says so much, and of course John’s “Her, we liked.” Again, some fine acting, kudos everyone.

“I loved her and I never told her” is ironic because Robin still won’t tell her until halfway through the next season, and if he had in the aftermath of her apparent death he could have spared himself a lot of the angst of the rest of the episode. But of course he doesn’t tell her, doesn’t learn from this moment, because emotions are hard, and sometimes we make the same mistakes over and over again.

I really love that it’s Allan that notices that Marian is alive, and his little “told ya” flourish.

Score note: while Marian is “dead” her Theme is strings, when she opens her eyes, it’s back to the guitar.

Guy’s guilt in finding out his impending marriage to Marian is based on false pretenses - would he still have forced the marriage if he’d known that from the start?

Djaq still has her two swords as they take Marian back to Knighton.

Guy, if your first instinct when told Marian is not at home is that she’s run away rather than marry you...maybe take a hint? “She cannot run from me” is a big yikes, and this confuses me as to Guy’s motivation in this scene. Did he intend to tell Marian the truth, but then convince himself otherwise (because “the excitement of the wedding” =/= “the wedding excites her”), but then why so angry when he thinks shes run? The difference between getting someone go/being left, I suppose.

Illness is a perfectly plausible explanation for delaying the wedding that no one seems to think of.

Edward is actually pretty bang on in this scene with Robin from a father’s perspective, telling him to let Marian go if he cannot stop it, and do the right thing. On the other hand...

“I am sick of doing the right thing” is why Robin is such a compelling character for me - because it is hard to always be good, to be held to that higher standard, and make the unselfish choice. I enjoy narratives that explore that, and this show is surprisingly unflinching about it, exemplified by:

The next scene, which is one of the most emotionally brutal/hard to watch of the entire show, in which Robin lashes out and does everything to drive Much away, including calling him “a pox”  and a “small man” until Much’s heart visibly breaks.

Now I don’t want to excuse Robin here, because he is objectively awful to someone who doesn’t deserve it, who is trying to give him support but also telling him some much needed hard truths (even if it is slightly self-serving, which is what what seems to set Robin off). But at the end of the day, if he loves Marian he needs to accept that it is her choice to marry Guy, to “do the right thing” to (she thinks) protect her father - and later of he does just that. For now Edward and Much are both right, it is more important for him to try and protect the king from Vaisey, because if he is ousted and Richard back on the throne so many lives would be improved, including the people of Locksley. But Robin has been pushed to breaking point all season, and has now snapped and can’t see reason, but is stuck in his own grief/rage.

But unlike previously, when Robin said regrettable things in the heat of the moment and then immediately took them back, this is a calculated attack designed to hurt Much the most, because he loves Robin so much that it takes A Lot to push him away. It’s a bold move to make your hero so unlikable in such a moment, because Robin really is unforgivably cruel here, and trust the audience to understand why. I mean, I don’t want to bang on about the PTSD, but it’s (partly) the PTSD, based on a triggering, precipitating event causing a self-destructive spiral. Robin needs some Ye Olde Therapy.  

For all the talk about Robin getting his title and lands back, nothing is said about what happens to Gisborne once he does, other than that they can’t prove he was the one who tried to assassinate Richard. Because really, Richard probably would believe Robin even though the tattoo was burned away, and Guy’s certainly committed other crimes that could be testified to just like they’re intending for Vaisey - and let’s be real, it’s not like a king needs evidence to order someone’s death (hello, season 2 finale). Boom - Guy executed, marriage to Marian annulled, problem solved!

So, the scene between Marian and Guy, in which Marian is more concerned with whether or not Guy tried to kill the king than the fact that he stabbed her. But its understandable, because Marian thinks there’s no way out that doesn’t risk her father’s life, and it’s easier to convince herself that maybe Guy didn’t do it to make the best of things. I think she does have some kind of feelings for him, or is at least moved by his feelings for her, and believes if nothing else she can influence him/continue working from the inside; giving up the mantle of the Nightwatchman but doing the same work (in a different way) as Lady Gisborne.

And then it’s Robin/Marian angst, round 3, and it’s a far cry from their interaction in the cave milliseconds away from “I love yous” - in both tone and body language they’re back in defensive positions talking past one another. The tension, it be thick.

Marian is making her best rationalisation with “deprived of love” and Robin not at all buying the Woobification 101. Once she tells him her decision to marry Guy, he accepts it, but it’s Marian’s reaction that’s telling, she’s surprised that he doesn’t argue, deep down she wants him to fight for her, to say that the real reason she shouldn’t marry Guy is because he loves her. It’s quite a contrast from the previous scene where Guy was very open about how he feels about her, while Robin deflects, but while she was conflicted about Guy trying to kiss her, she’s frustrated, disappointed, and angry when Robin leaves.

But really, this is rather unfair of Marian, because Robin did already declare himself in the cave (”we should be together”) without her reciprocation, so expecting him to take the first step again without any encouragement is a bit much.

Would a depressed person sit slumped against a tree all night?

“But by taking Marian in holy wedlock, I will wash away those crimes. Her pure heart will cleanse mine.” Yeah...not going to touch that one. I appreciate that there’s a lot going on with Guy and many, many people find it compelling, but I’m afraid it’s not really a narrative that interests me.

Speaking of pure hearts: Much. Faced with the same choice he was counseling Robin on, but with the additional wrinkle of knowing the king’s an imposter, he still decides to stop the wedding. “Her heart belongs to another” is A Moment and I don’t know exactly why but I find his very soft pleas following this and calling her “my lady” very affecting. 

She’s beauty and she’s grace, she punched Guy in the face.

“A trap. I knew it.” I haaaaate this line. NO YOU DIDN’T KNOW IT ROBIN YOU KNEW NOTHING OF THE KIND IF YOU HAD KNOWN YOU WOULD BE EVEN MORE OF A DICK FOR LEAVING UGGGHHHH.

“We can’t be seen together” Right in front of my salad two guards on front gate duty, who get front row tickets to the kiss. Look at them! They’re right there! This show drives me absolutely bonkers sometimes.

I do love this dress though.

“An audience with the king has been suspended!” Going out on one last pun.

Regardless, I really love this episode. Despite the lack of fallout from the emotional wringer they all went through, I can’t help but smile when the gang does their silly little jump for joy at the end.

[wh33zy]

My Read On Hiroki and Why He Gets On My Last Good Goddamn Nerve

First thing I want to make clear: I am not biased here. Although my favorite Egoist fanfiction on the planet is “Turning Back Time” By Lucicelo, this read on him is solely based off of my observations, interpretations, and is backed up with proof in the manga. I actually used to like Hiroki in the past, even made a fanfic and everything many moons ago (I was 16-17 shhhhh).  

Christ, where do I even begin with this fool? Strap in for this one, folks!

Welp, I guess we should start off by saying he’s a narcissist. This isn’t an insult, Hiroki is a textbook narc, he suffers from this. Why we’re starting here is because this is the baseline for his mindset and explains the drive behind most, if not all of his actions. This also explains the whole issue behind his ‘pride’ and avoiding things that are ‘embarrassing’. This also is a huge factor as to why the Egoist relationship just doesn’t fucking work and why if a relationship with Akihiko happened, Akihiko wouldn’t have been the likeable character he is now.

Hiroki is probably the most self centered character Nakamura has created next to Taka-no-means-no. In chapters told from his points of view, you never see him even consider anyone else or how they would feel. It’s all about how everything is impacting him and assuming that he’s always in the right or that he’s the victim in all this. During the stupid America thing, his head is so far up his asshole that he didn’t remember Nowaki being interested in studying a science nor their conversation about going to America because he thought it was appropriate to work on papers for school during a time he’s supposed to hang with Nowaki. 

Not to mention, most of his actions are completely self-serving. One of the majorly terrible things he did was sleeping with Akihiko. Instead of helping his friend through being devastated about unrequited love, he just took advantage of his emotionally vulnerable crush instead of the friend Akihiko needed. I think THIS is why Akihiko was so pissed off afterwards. Not just at himself but at Hiroki using his grief as an opportunity to make Akihiko fall in love with him. 

One that sticks out particular in terms of being self-serving is when he does nice things for others. But, almost all of those nice things are motivated by wanting to quell guilt or he’s fucking hammered. That was the main reason why he took care of Nowaki when he was sick which makes me confident that Hiroki wouldn’t have done anything at all if he wasn’t motivated by guilt. Why did he celebrate Valentine’s Day with Nowaki? Guilt! Why did he decide to take a bath with him? Guilt! Why did he even bother sending those bride photos back to his parents with that letter? GUILT! It’s hardly ever because it’s just a nice thing to fucking do or even the right thing. The only other time he told Nowaki he loved him? He was drunk! 

Narcissistic Rage: He’s not just a hothead, I think it goes deeper. While him being the Kamijou the Devil is funny at all, it’s literally just him in bouts of narc rage. That’s because students not listening to the lecture makes Hiroki feel like he lost control of his class and the fact that he’s being ignored in a threat to his self esteem. This also explains the many times he gets extremely angry when there’s an inkling that he is wrong and him lashing out by trying to hurt the person threatening/challenging him. So, not only do students get things thrown at them but it also explains why Nowaki does as well. HIs stubborness also stems from this, because he believes he’s right at all costs. 

Narcissistic Selective Memory: I bet there are a lot of problematic things about Hiroki that people forgot because only Nowaki’s faults are brought up anymore. While everyone loves to dogpile on Nowaki about him being a stalker, so was Hiroki! Hiroki was just as bad IF NOT WORSE! He not only wore disguises but he also would time his stalking to such a precise degree so that he and Nowaki would bump into each other so they could walk home together. He made a pattern to do this every seven or so times that he’d stalk Nowaki so that Nowaki wouldn’t catch on (but he DID because our boy is perceptive as hell). In a more recent chapter, Hiroki criticizes Nowaki for being a scary stalker.

Superiority Complex: So high and mighty, this guy. But, this is mainly evident by the way he treats Nowaki. For almost the entire relationship, Hiroki has treated Nowaki like a child. He would poo-poo Nowaki’s rightful concerns and accomplishments. He’d constantly talk down to him. Like, if this guy wasn’t making fun of Nowaki he was putting him down. This is what lead to Nowaki finally blowing up at him which brings us to our next thing- 

He didn’t just take advantage of Akihiko, oh no, he fully takes advantage of Nowaki’s kindness/selflessness. Hiroki is aware of what he can get away with, evident by the way he assumes that Nowaki will just stay quiet and agree. Also by the way he will automatically just reject whatever Nowaki has said to him because he knows Nowaki is too nice to fight back. If Nowaki is openly upset, this is where Hiroki’s guilt starts. 

Hiroki is Junjou Romantica’s BIGGEST HYPOCRITE: Not just from him only pointing out and criticizing bad things Nowaki did even though he did them himself, but the fact that he can’t take criticism himself. I think it’s very weird for someone to constantly be so judgmental of everyone around them but then not be able to take what they’re dishing out. This is evident why the way he acts when Nowaki was “sick” and was telling him that he ran off with the idea before he fully listened. You think Hiroki accepted that and changed? Haha, NO. 

Which also ties into his emotional immaturity. Listen, Hiroki, fuckface...can I call you fuckface? I’m gonna call you fuckface: you can’t tell someone that you don’t care what they do while also not wanting to act like you want to be in a relationship and then get mad if it seems like they’re taking your advice. You also shouldn’t hop into a relationship when you’re still in love with someone else. THAT’S RIGHT! You guys think Hiroki has gotten over Akihiko at all? Absolutely fucking NOT. He even said that he’d always love Akihiko but that he loves Nowaki ‘a different way’, but I’m not sure what that different way is? I mean, the first thing Hiroki thought about in terms of Nowaki was not his kindness or concern for his well-being, but that his hands were similar to Akihiko’s. Also, the whole thing about Nowaki not being allowed to call him by his first name but Akihiko being able to that is just another red flag to me. He’s also immature in the way that he barely faces his problems. He has run away figuratively and literally many many many many many times. Lastly, he barely takes any initiative in the relationship and has Nowaki constantly carrying their relationship. 

Which brings me to the part that boils my fucking blood: Hiroki treats Akihiko better than Nowaki and is a lot softer with him. With the way he speaks to Akihiko vs Nowaki, who gets to refer to him by his first name, the way he’d drop everything to read a manuscript- it is so fucking obvious that Hiroki would treat Akihiko so much better if they were together. I sometimes get the inkling that it frustrates Hiroki that Nowaki isn’t Akihiko. 

Does that mean Minimum is better than Egoist? Yeah, no. Akihiko would not have blossomed into the beautiful flower that he is now with Hiroki because there would be no motivation for him to change. Hiroki would enable his bad qualities since he’s accepting of a lot of Akihiko’s faults and the strained relationship with his family by both of their lack of empathy. Evident by the way Hiroki did fuck all to encourage Akihiko to move on in a healthy way and the way he kind of idolizes him. The other side of the clash is Akihiko not putting up with Hiroki’s narcissism, immaturity, and quirks as a whole. Akihiko does not take any of Hiroki’s bullshit, even now.

So, what even is Egoist then? Well, kind of quoting Bojack Horseman here, Hiroki sunk his claws into the one person on the planet who will put up with his bullshit and make him the center of the universe. Nowaki is wearing rose colored glasses, so all the red flags just look like flags. 

[villainscomplex]

could cry just thinkin about you

anyway i actually started working on @asanoyaweek21 like halfway through july after i finished my camp nano word count, but then i tripped and fell back into my princess tutu pit and ,,,,,,,,,,, yeah im late already 

anyway asanoya week day one: soulmate au / the broom bc i will never get over the homoeroticism of the broom fight 

Also on: AO3

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Quotev

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When Nishinoya Yuu is a child, he’s a coward. 

He’s little, and there’s this ever present bundle of fear and anxiety writhing around in his chest. It means he’s scared, he concludes, and so he cries when he rides a bike for the first time, and then when he gets lost in the woods near his house, and then again when he comes across a dog bigger than he is. 

It’s strange, he begins to think, as he grows. He’s sure that feeling must be his own, but sometimes he’s suddenly, explicitly happy, and sometimes when he thinks he should be happy, he’s so painfully sad that it aches in every fiber of his being. 

When he’s eight, Yuu scrapes his leg from knee to mid-shin when he falls out of a tree. The pain is the first sensation he’s aware of, arm twisted awkwardly beneath him where it’d made a futile attempt to cushion his fall. Underneath it, concern spikes, bubbling with that familiar chill of anxiety. Yuu is too busy thinking about how much his arm and leg hurt to give it too much thought at the time. 

Yuu is eight the first time he breaks his arm, and the cast itches so much that he’s tempted to tear it off the moment it’s on. Yuu is eight when he’s sitting in the passenger seat of his grandfather’s car, a cast on one arm and ice cream in his other hand. He thinks the scrape down his leg is going to leave a nasty scar, but it’ll look cool and he can tell people whatever he wants about its origin. 

“You don’t seem excited about your ice cream,” his grandfather remarks with a little chuckle, lips tugging up.

Yuu huffs. “I am! I’m super excited!”

He thinks he is, at least. Yuu loves ice cream, and he always gets excited when he gets it, but that tugging little concern is still nestled deep in his chest and Yuu doesn’t really know what to do with it. He’s so used to it, like second nature, but somehow it feels foreign nowadays. 

His grandpa laughs again. “I bet your soulmate is worried about you, always causing yourself trouble like this.” 

Yuu stares back at him, ice cream halfway to his mouth. “Huh?”

“Your soulmate,” the man says again, “everyone’s got one. Not necessarily romantic, mind ya. You can feel their emotions. It’s a little inconvenient sometimes, but you miss it when it’s gone. You’re always hurting yourself, so your soulmate is probably worried about you.”

Yuu thinks about his grandmother. His memories of her are faint, at best. He’d barely been old enough to remember her face when she’d passed, but he remembers how strange his grandfather had acted after, like something was missing from the core of his being. Yuu thinks about the word  soulmate . There’s someone out there meant to be in his life specifically, and he’s meant to be in theirs. Yuu thinks about the little bundle of emotion in his chest, and he realizes that must be his soulmate.

He hadn’t thought to try and distinguish them until now, but it has him tracking his memories back as far back as he can, seeking that feeling in them all. Sure enough, the anxiety is ever present. Sometimes, it’s duller than others, muffled beneath other emotions, but it’s always there. 

“I think my soulmate is a scaredy-cat,” Yuu announces, and then shrieks when his cold ice cream drips onto his exposed knee. 

His grandfather laughs, and Yuu whines as he shoves the top of the cone into his mouth in a futile attempt to save the rest of it. 

When he’s a child, Nishinoya Yuu is a coward. When he’s eight, his grandfather tells him about  soulmates  , and Yuu thinks  my soulmate is scared of everything.  It keeps him up that night, staring at the ceiling in a way that feels too ancient for a boy his age, but he’s come to a conclusion. If his soulmate is a scaredy-cat, then Yuu will just have to be the brave one for the both of them. 

He tries to reach out to that little bundle of feeling with his resolve, wanting to sooth the turmoil there. It doesn’t change, but Yuu is determined. He’ll become strong enough for the both of them, and then he’ll protect his soulmate so they never have to worry again. 

“From now on,” he tells the air, sitting up and jumping off his bed, “I’m going to be the bravest person ever! Then my soulmate will never have to worry again!”

His bravery starts by yelling past his bedtime. He tells himself that he isn’t scared when his mother shouts from the other room, he’s just being respectful by listening to her and crawling back into his bed, hiding under his blanket. If his heart is pounding in his ears, then that’s a secret between him and his soulmate. 

With his new resolve, Yuu grows. He becomes bold and eccentric, loud and outspoken. He becomes a lionhearted boy, too much brilliance to fit inside a body as small as his remains. He becomes stubborn and strong-willed, never backing down from a challenge regardless of how much trouble it will get him into. Yuu embraces everything he has to offer, but he refuses to be sad. 

That ever present pit of broiling emotions is constant, nestled deep in his chest like a second heart, and he doesn’t want to make his soulmate worry ever again. 

Some days, it’s calmer than others. There’s times he nearly forgets it’s there, in the wake of some other hesitant, but excited emotion, and there’s times where it’s so strong that it wakes him even from a dead sleep. Those nights are the worst because he  knows  there’s nothing he can do as is, and his soulmate is having to suffer alone. 

He tries to encourage them as best he can, wondering if they feel his emotions as strongly as he often feels their’s. 

Yuu is in his last year of middle school when things begin to change. He’s taken to volleyball like a moth to flame. There’s something about being behind everyone like the final line of defense, the one everyone depends on to keep the ball in play; it’s thrilling, keeping his blood rushing in his veins and his heart pounding in his ears. 

He wins an award, and he’s so full of pride that he nearly misses the faint little swell of happiness that comes from that bundle of feelings in the back of his chest. Maybe his soulmate does feel his emotions just as strongly. 

The first time he meets Azumane Asahi, Yuu doesn’t think much of him. His hair is a little past his ears, curling up beneath the lobes and sticking up in the back like he’d recently been laying on it. His first impression is that Azumane looks as if he’s waiting for the entire world to come down on his shoulders. He easily dwarfs everyone, but he stands with his shoulders curled in, hands clasped complacently in front of him and gaze down, as if trying to avoid notice. 

Yuu isn’t sure why, but it pisses him off, seeing someone who looks as big and strong as Azumane looking like such a coward. 

He says as much to Azumane’s face exactly a week later.

Azumane balks. “What.” 

Yuu puts his hands on his hips. “You’re huge and super strong, but you act like a total coward. You look like a skittish dog or something!” 

“A dog…” Azumane visibly slouches lower.

Yuu would say his dejected expression is almost comical, if it hadn’t been the exact opposite of what he’d been wanting. Azumane reminds him of how he’d been when he was a child, anxiety ridden and glass hearted. 

“Okay!” Yuu announces. “We’re gonna practice together!” 

Azumane doesn’t even get out a response before Yuu is towing him back towards the court, determined to teach this boy the ways of reckless bravery and intense practice.

Yuu doesn’t know when or where he lost the plot, but somehow this becomes second nature. He finds himself seeking Azumane out in the hallway, barreling into the larger boy, or towing him behind himself from time to time. He meets Ryu and he meets Kiyoko; the former becomes his friend early on and both boys adamantly say they’re crushing on the latter.

It feels like a performance. Yuu knows Kiyoko isn’t his soulmate. She’s gentle and anxiously soft-spoken, but not in the same way that his soulmate feels like they should be. He doesn’t admit that maybe there’s this half formed idea about Azumane tucked away in the back of his mind, and everyone is better for it. 

He wants to be sure. He has to be. 

“I think I should trim my hair soon,” Asahi remarks offhandedly one day, when they’re leaving practice.

Yuu watches his fingers card through the wavy brown strands, a little contemplative frown fixed on his face. He tries to imagine Asahi with short hair like most of the others, and the image just won’t come to mind. Maybe he’s biased.

“No way, Asahi-san!” Yuu grins, reaching out to slap the other man on the back. “I think long hair suits you! It makes you look kinda wild, don’t you think? It’s cool!”

Asahi slouches into himself a little, curling a strand of hair around his finger. He hums noncommittally, allowing the strand to fall away, but he doesn’t comment on Yuu’s words. He just looks a little more thoughtful.

Yuu is only a little surprised when he really  looks  at Asahi one day and his hair is just past his shoulders. He’s got a little facial hair now, too, and something about it makes him feel more mature, older, like he’s finally growing into himself. Yuu takes a running leap onto his back the moment he sees him in practice that afternoon, and Asahi hardly sways beneath him. 

The realization settles in; this isn’t going to last forever. He won’t always be able to be with everyone like this. Asahi has grown and filled out, fitting into the broadness of his shoulders. He’s steady and unyielding, and Yuu isn’t sure when he started to become something like this. 

That pit of anxiety still lingers in his chest. It wavers, sometimes. 

They go against Date Tech. Their defeat is crushing and miserable for everyone involved, but when Asahi doesn’t call out for the last spike, Yuu feels it like an anchor in the hollow of his chest. It’s painful, near suffocating, and he can see the sheer weight of it coming down on Asahi’s shoulders. Those negative feelings swirl up into his chest again, fought only by his own fury - fury at Asahi, for not calling for the spike. 

Fury at himself, for not retrieving them. 

He hates it. 

“Why won’t you blame me?” 

Yuu feels the anger before he witnesses it. This is his confirmation, he’s sure. There’s no doubt anymore; these emotions living alongside his own are Asahi’s. The first time he feels Asahi’s anger, it feels cold, like ice in his veins. There’s something sad about it, something self-sacrificing, like Asahi wants to shoulder everything and leave nothing to be spared for the rest of them. His fury comes like a wave of ocean water, painful when it enters his lungs.

Yuu turns on his heel. Asahi stands - no, Asahi hunches - in front of him. He looks like he had when Noya had first met him, shoulders curled into himself, back bent like the world itself is coming down on it. Maybe it is, this time. Yuu doesn’t know if Asahi has realized that they’re soulmates. Yuu doesn’t know if Asahi would even accept it. 

Asahi doesn’t seem to be in a very accepting mood right now, and Yuu is in no mindset for motivation. 

They fight. They fight before they’re even anything, before Yuu can say anything, before he can even confess to himself that he would have been willing to leave his soulmate behind for Asahi, even if the other boy hadn’t ended up being them. He doesn’t tell Asahi how he used to be a coward. He doesn’t tell him that the reason he works so hard and never stops moving forward is because he’d made a promise to both of them a long time ago. 

He doesn’t tell Asahi that he’s terrified to lose him.

All he knows is that if Asahi’s anger is like ice, then his is like flames, raging and all-consuming. All he knows is that he’s furious, and he’s yelling, and then there’s a  snap , and suddenly everything goes cold. Asahi’s feelings drop to the pit of his stomach and become cold there, and Yuu feels like the tightrope he’s been walking has finally given way. 

Ryu holds him back, and all he can do is watch Asahi walk away. 

He doesn’t cry. 

Asahi doesn’t show up for practice the next day, and his lack of presence doesn’t go unnoticed. Yuu corners him in the hall. He feels like this is starting to become a cycle now, arguing and fighting over trivial things. It’d be easy to solve if Asahi just had a little more faith, but Yuu knows better. He knows how Asahi feels too well. 

Yuu doesn’t care what others think. He bleaches his hair because he thinks it looks cool. When people tell him he’s too loud, he gets louder. He refuses to be looked down upon and spoken over. He’s been in detention more times than he can count, but it never stops him from repeated offenses. 

Yuu doesn’t care what others think, but when Asahi walks away from him, it feels final. It feels like the end of something that never began. Nishinoya Yuu never cries. 

(The people in the hall that day are silent witnesses to his tears, but nobody says a thing about them.) 

Yuu isn’t much for thinking, so he spends all of his time in suspension doing, instead. He works and works and works some more, trying not to think of Asahi turning his back on them. On him. All he can do is hope Asahi will come to his senses by the time Yuu is back. 

He doesn’t. Yuu goes back, and Asahi is still gone, so he leaves again. He loves volleyball, but he won’t be a part of it if it means leaving Asahi behind. Asahi may believe that he’s unnecessary, but they all know better. 

It isn’t until he’s staring at the broad expanse of Asahi’s back again in the practice match that he really  realizes,  and for the second time, he feels like he’s really seeing Asahi. He sees someone who is trying for the people he cares about, someone who is finally learning to try for  himself  and he thinks  that’s all I wanted.  

They fix the broom together. 

“We’re soulmates,” Yuu tells him, so abruptly that Asahi’s surprised flinch dislodges the two pieces again. 

Asahi glances down. “I know.”

Yuu stares at him. “What.”

“I know,” Asahi says again, gaze soft and hesitant. “I’ve known since we met. You aren’t exactly quiet about your emotions, y’know. I never said anything because you liked Shimizu. You deserved better than someone like me.”

“Asahi-san,” Yuu intones, “you’re the  only  person I’ve ever liked.”

“What.”

“Oh my god.”

When Asahi laughs, it lights up his whole face. Yuu stares for a long moment, watching Asahi’s shoulders tremble. He feels Asahi’s relief wash over him like a second skin, settling into his bones themselves. The warmth of his joy is like a blanket. 

“Well,” Asahi says, “I guess we’re both a little dumb then, huh?”

“To be fair,” Yuu huffs, “I didn’t realize till after the Date Tech match.” 

Asahi laughs again, and Yuu thinks that everything is going to be okay after all. Asahi is finally starting to have some sort of belief in himself, and while Yuu knows his doubt and anxiety won’t go away overnight, they’re taking baby steps. 

And if Ryu and Daichi give Suga and Kiyoko ten dollars each when they admit their newest revelation, then nobody is any the wiser. 

[magic-and-moonlit-wings]

Chapter 55: Movie Night

Lots of quotes from the movie Lilo & Stitch ahead! Fewer quotes, but some, from Trolls and Frozen.

Bold italics are trollish, ~tildes~ indicate goblin.

Content warnings for this chapter: Swearing. Here we reach the story's first F-bomb.

Also, there is some talk between characters about the harshness of life in the Darklands, how Changelings are treated by the Gumm-Gumms, and mentions of cannibalism.

This was supposed to be a light-happy chapter that got feels-y at the end, but then it went and got all dark on me.

Oh, also-also, (Not) Enrique finds out Claire flirted with Jim a while ago and misinterprets what exactly happened between them, but that gets cleared up fast.

Becoming The Mask

Once again, Javier and Ophelia Nuñez were out for the evening, leaving Claire in charge of Enrique. Claire had gotten permission to invite "some friends" over to watch movies. Jim and Toby arrived to find Mary and Darci already there – Jim suspected, like the time he'd 'babysat', that Claire had purposefully asked him to arrive after she knew her parents would be gone.

They set up piles of cushions and blankets on the floor between the couch and the TV. Jim propped the Amulet up on the coffee table they'd pushed to one side. Maybe some of the ghost Trollhunters would be interested in human movies.

"Finally get your fill of the touchy-feelies?" Enrique teased Jim, seeing how they were all seated separately. Jim snorted.

"Not hardly." He pulled the smaller Changeling in for a hug. "Humans just have different rules about casual touching, is all. Freezing to death's not really a concern in this climate."

"Wait, what?" said Toby, dropping the pillow he'd been holding. Jim looked up to see all the humans staring at him.

"Darklands thing," said Enrique easily. "Gets cold there."

"We'd sleep in piles," Jim explained. "I had a bit of a reputation for being … clingy."

"If you weren't good at finding food and soft stuff, we'd never've put up with ya." Enrique proved himself a liar by climbing onto Jim's shoulders instead of jumping back to the floor. He fluffed the hair on Jim's scalp. "Jimmy-boy got his first nickname for that."

"Shut up," said Jim playfully. "Anyway, humans get weird about touching around puberty. I can still hug Mom whenever I want, but Toby gets embarrassed if I hug him around other people, and Claire, Mary, and Darci haven't given me permission to touch them casually yet."

"… Did you … want permission?" asked Claire. "You, kinda, said you were uncomfortable with that, I thought."

"No, it was more wondering if you were flirting with me that felt weird," Jim assured her. "After that conversation I felt like it'd be awkward to bring up that I was open to hugging and such."

Jim thought he felt Enrique growl, to quietly to properly hear. His hand, still in Jim's hair, changed position so the tips of Enrique's claws were on Jim's scalp.

"When exactly did this happen?" Enrique asked.

"Claire kissed Jim on the cheek on his birthday and then Jim said he wasn't interested in dating her," said Mary.

"Also that I realized she might not have meant it in a flirty way and if I was misinterpreting things she could ignore what I was saying," Jim added. The claws retreated.

Claire looked away. "So what movie did we want to start with?"

"Lilo & Stitch!" exclaimed Darci, looking through the shelves. "I haven't watched this in forever!"

"That's a good one." Jim tilted his head to get Enrique back in his peripheral vision. "Enrique, have you seen it yet?"

"… Yeah."

"Isn't that the one that always makes you cry?" asked Toby.

"It's beautiful. Of course I cry."

Stitch was a constructed 'abomination', who shapeshifted to blend in, and his adopted family found out what he truly was and still wanted him. How could Jim be expected to keep his composure in the face of that?

"So, quick question," said Jim. "Is talking during the movie a crime, or is commentary what makes it a group activity?"

"Commentary," said all three girls together.

"Okay, good." Jim and Toby usually talked during movies, unless one or both of them were seeing it for the first time. Sometimes even then.

+=+

"Not guilty! My experiments are only theoretical, and completely within legal boundaries."

"We believe you actually created something."

"Created something? Ha! But that would be irresponsible, and, unethical. I would never, ever – make more than one."

"What is that monstrosity?"

"Monstrosity?! What you see before you is the first of a new species!"

"You have to wonder if she and Merlin ever had a talk like this," Enrique muttered in Jim's ear. Jim snickered.

"And as for that abomination … it is the flawed product of a deranged mind. It has no place among us."

Jim stopped laughing and cringed. He loved this movie a lot, but some of it stung.

+=+

"A quiet capture would require an understanding of 626 that we do not possess! Who, then, Mr Pleakley, would you send for his extraction?"

"… Does he have a brother? Close grandmother, perhaps?"

"Fun fact," said Darci, "in early drafts Stitch was a career criminal and Jumba was an old accomplice."

"Friendly cousin? Neighbour with a beard?"

+=+

"Surely the teacher won't notice I was late if he doesn't see me come in!" Claire narrated sarcastically.

+=+

"I'm sorry, Scrump!" Mary wailed, as Lilo ran back to retrieve the doll she'd angrily thrown aside.

+=+

"Let me illuminate to you the precarious situation in which you have found yourself. I am the one they call when things go wrong. And things have indeed gone wrong."

"As a cook, that kitchen horrifies me," said Jim.

+=+

"If you promise not to fight anymore, I promise not to yell at you – except on special occasions."

"Tuesdays and bank holidays would be good."

The entire group cracked up.

"How does kid Lilo's age even know what a bank holiday is?" said Claire. "I don't even know what a bank holiday is!"

"Maybe she saw it printed on a calendar?" said Toby.

+=+

A raindrop fell on Stitch's head. He fired his ray gun into the sky. It started raining, hard.

"Oh, no, I broke the sky!" Darci cried.

+=+

"Does it have to be this dog?"

"He survived getting hit by a truck, how much more sturdy and not-gonna-die do you want?" asked Jim.

"Yes. He's good. I can tell."

+=+

"I'm sorry I bit you. And pulled your hair. And punched you in the face."

Mary nudged Claire. "Remind you of anyone?"

Like sunflowers, everyone else popped up and turned towards them.

Claire blushed. "We got into a fight in first grade and for like two days we decided we didn't want to be friends anymore, then our moms made us say sorry."

"He will be irresistibly drawn to large cities, where he will back up sewers, reverse street signs, and steal everyone's left shoe."

"It's weird they get in trouble for everything but this," commented Enrique. "Human grown ups might not believe a dog stole a trike, but wouldn't they think Lilo did it? She's fought the other kid before."

"It's nice to live on an island with no large cities."

+=+

"It's not an angel, Lilo, I don't even think it's a dog!"

"Isn't that the rolling thing Draal can do?" said Toby.

"Yeah, more or less," said Jim. "I mean, I don't think Draal bites his feet – but maybe that's the trick."

"At least with those stick legs you've got," said Enrique. He curled into a ball and rolled in a circle around the group. "Face it, you're out of proportion for this move."

+=+

"626 was designed to be a monster. But now, there is nothing to destroy. You see, I never gave him a greater purpose. What must it be like, to have nothing? Not even memories to visit, in the middle of the night?"

"Now, this next bit I don't care for," said Jim. "The Ugly Duckling is a messed-up story."

"What've you got against The Ugly Duckling?" asked Mary.

"The blatant segregationist propaganda? 'A swan will never fit in with ducks and everyone is better off sticking with their own kind'. You don't even have to read it as a race metaphor. Between that and The Little Mermaid, I thought for while that Hans Christian Anderson was a Changeling writing cautionary tales about why we shouldn't get attached to humans."

"… Was he?" asked Claire.

"Probably not. I couldn't find any real evidence and the rest of his work doesn't match the pattern."

"Counterpoint," said Darci. "The Ugly Duckling is pro-integration. Everyone thought he was an ugly duckling because they didn't know what swans look like. If he'd grown up with ducks and swans around, they could've judged him for what he was instead of what he couldn't measure up to, and he might've had a happy childhood instead of only finding a community that accepted him as an adult."

Jim considered this, and nodded. "I guess I can see that, too."

+=+

"Heard you lost your job."

"Well, uh, actually, I just quit. That job. Because, you know, the hours are just not conducive to the challenges of raising a child –"

"Nani, no!" Jim begged. "I know almost nothing about Social Services but I'm pretty sure choosing to leave your only source of income looks worse to them than just losing it!"

"Thus far you have been adrift in the sheltered harbour of my patience; but I cannot ignore you being jobless. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly."

"And next time I see this dog, I expect it to be a model citizen. Capiche?"

"Uh … yes?"

"New job. Model citizen. Good day."

+=+

"So, we saw Cobra on the beach after all the tourists got scared off … D'you think he was just standing there watching them the whole time?" Mary wondered out loud after the surfing sequence.

+=+

"Until we meet again …"

Lilo was about to tell Stitch about her parents. Without thinking, Jim grabbed the remote – on the coffee table, next to the amulet – to fast forward.

"What are you doing?" Darci cried. "This is one of the big emotional turning points of the film!"

Jim paused it. "Sorry. Uh … Tobes and I usually skip this scene."

"I think I can handle it," Toby assured Jim. To the girls and Enrique, he explained, "My parents died in a storm when I was two. A cruise ship, not a car accident. I got kind of upset the first time we watched this as kids, and, we got in the habit fast forwarding this part. I think I'm okay with it now."

"You're sure?" asked Jim.

"I'm sure."

"Okay …" He rewound to the point where he'd started fast forwarding.

"That's us before. It was rainy, and they went for a drive. What happened to yours?"

Jim watched Toby more than the movie for the next few minutes.

"I'll remember you, though. I remember everyone that leaves."

"Do you remember them?" Claire asked quietly.

"Only the stuff Nana tells me." Toby shrugged, and readjusted the cushions he'd propped up his arms on. "I've seen lots of pictures. A couple home movies."

+=+

"Don't run. Don't make me shoot you. You were expensive. Yes, yes, that's it, come quietly."

"I'm … waiting."

"For what?"

"Family."

"Ah. You don't have one. I made you."

"Maybe … I could –"

"You were built to destroy. You can never belong."

Jim blinked fast to keep the tears back. He sniffed, and pulled the blankets more tightly around him.

+=+

"Okay, talk! I know you had something to do with this, now where's Lilo? Talk! I know you can."

"Claire?" said Mary. "You okay?"

Jim looked over. Claire's jaw was clenched, and her hands were tight on the blanket, and her eyes were huge and fixed on the screen, and she was shaking.

"Ah … maybe the little sib getting snatched by otherworldly forces wasn't the best movie choice," Enrique said. He reached out like he was about to go to Claire, then pulled back his hand and hunkered down where he was.

"LILO! She's a little girl this big, she has black hair and brown eyes, and she hangs around with that THING!"

"I'm. Fine," Claire insisted.

"You're sure?"

"We can just fast forward."

"I said I'm fine!"

"Okay …"

Mary and Darci each scooted their blanket and cushion piles closer to Claire's, bracketing her on either side. Jim tactfully retreated to the Nuñezes kitchen to microwave a few more bags of popcorn. Enrique went with him. They could still hear the TV.

"What? After all you put me through, you expect me to help you just like that? Just like that?!"

"Ih."

"Fine."

"Fine? You're doing what he says?"

"Ah, he is very persuasive."

"Is it normal to feel bad for her?" Enrique asked.

"I think so? It's an awkward situation for both of you." Jim selected the white cheddar flavour. "But it's not like there's an alternative. You're not a polymorph. And really, the only reason she's upset is because she found out."

The Nuñezes had the same microwave as the Lakes. Jim didn't find the popcorn setting especially useful for this brand of popcorn – it tended to burn a third of the kernels– so he used the timer instead.

"I never apologized to you for that, did I?" Jim asked.

"It wasn't all your fault."

"Still, I'm sorry for my part in getting you caught."

The Changelings got back to the living room in time to see the unfortunate tourist lose his ice cream for the third time.

+=+

"Does Stitch have to go in the ship?"

"Yes."

"Can Stitch say goodbye?"

"… Yes."

Like he always did during this scene, Jim cried. He let himself do it this time.

+=+

"Wait, how is Little Mermaid a cautionary tale?" asked Enrique during the credits. The camera panned over a photo of Stitch reading to a flock of ducklings. "For getting attached, I mean. I thought the moral of that one was to control yer temper and be careful who you made deals with?"

"Sure, the Disney version," said Jim. "They adapted it to make a more dramatic, less depressing story. And give the characters names. In the older version, the sea witch is actually a neutral character. The terms of the mermaid's transformation are that she's traded her tongue for legs, but walking on land hurts, and she'll become fully human if the prince marries her, but if he marries anybody else, she'll die."

"That doesn't sound neutral."

"Wait for it. The prince gets engaged to a human princess, so the mermaid's older sisters trade their hair to the sea witch for a magic knife and a loophole; if the little mermaid kills the prince before the wedding, she can turn back into a mermaid and survive."

"Kay, I see it now."

"Except she doesn't go through with the kill, so she dies, and because she wasn't really human, she doesn't have a proper soul, so her spirit's not allowed to go to Heaven."

"… Whoa."

"I know, right?"

"I mean," Mary commented, "not murdering somebody is kind of a low bar for moral decency. It's not as if the prince owed her anything just because she was attracted to him."

"No, no, whether the prince deserved to die or not is irrelevant," said Jim. "The point is that the mermaid had a chance to, objectively, trade one life for another, and because she was attached to the particular person she'd have to kill, she didn't prioritize her own survival, and therefore suffered."

"Wouldn't the guilt of murder have caused suffering anyway?" Toby pointed out.

"Not if she wasn't attached," Jim insisted. How were they not getting this? "If she could've just cut the throat of any random human, she'd've been fine. The moral of the story is that caring about people causes pain. That's what makes it depressing."

"Do you like any fairy tales?" asked Darci.

"Sure. Just not most of Anderson's work."

"What should we watch next?" said Claire hospitably. "If we're on a 'sister movies' theme, I've got Frozen."

"Isn't that one also based on an Anderson fairy tale?" said Mary.

"Not really," said Jim. "The Snow Queen was more 'inspiration' than 'source material'. Elsa never kidnaps anyone, and they left out the broken enchanted mirror. Plus it's fun to see all the different ways humans think trolls are like."

"We also have the Trolls movie," said Claire. "I haven't watched it yet. My dad got it for Mom's birthday because she used to collect the dolls."

"I haven't seen that one yet, either," Darci commented.

"Should we?" said Mary. "Any other votes?"

"I'm game for whatever," said Toby. "This one's a musical, right? Those are always fun."

Jim squirmed.

He hadn't watched this movie despite his curiosity, after an online clip of the opening had explained the premise. Getting eaten alive was his greatest fear. Did he want to watch a movie about trolls narrowly avoiding being eaten? Did he want to explain why he didn't want to watch it?

While he debated, the movie got put in.

"Once upon a time, in a happy forest, in the happiest tree, lived the happiest creatures the world has ever known: the trolls. They loved nothing more than to sing, and dance, and hug, and dance and hug and sing and dance and sing and hug –"

Enrique started laughing.

Oh, shit, Jim hadn't warned him.

"Uh, Enrique –"

"Ssh! This is ridiculous. I mean, the huggy bit's kind of like you, but the rest of it – ha!"

"But then one day, the trolls were discovered by – a Bergen!"

"The trolls are gonna –"

"Ji-im! Spoilers!" Toby hissed.

"They were the most miserable creatures in all the land."

Jim grabbed Enrique and covered his eyes. The smaller Changeling yelped and squirmed. Jim switched forms so his fingers wouldn't bleed from the clawing.

Enrique got his eyes uncovered just in time to see the Bergen flick a troll into its mouth.

The onscreen troll's exclamation of "Oh my god!" was drowned out by Enrique's much more lurid cursing.

"What the –?" The girls and Toby all turned to stare. Claire pointed at Enrique accusingly. "I knew that didn't mean 'I'm sorry'!"

"The hell kinda movie is this?! Why would you watch this?!" He twisted to look at Jim, who let go of him rather than risk yanking his scruff by accident. "You knew?!"

"I saw a bit of it on the internet when it first came out. That's why I froze up when Claire suggested it."

That … that was the wrong thing to say. Enrique rounded on Claire. A techno-rock cover of In The Hall Of The Mountain King boomed from the movie soundtrack.

"Why in FUCK'S NAME would you think we'd WANT to watch trolls get EATEN? Is this some kind of threat?"

"How the fuck would it be a threat?" Claire shot back, stealing some cushions from Mary to prop herself up taller without getting out of her blanket cocoon.

"Most Changelings –" Jim started to say.

"DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES I'VE ALMOST BEEN EATEN?" Enrique roared. "I DON'T! CAUSE IT'S A LOT!"

"We've all had close calls," Jim finished. "Nyarlagroths, Hellheetis, goblins if you catch them in the wrong mood, Gruesomes if you're already hurt, Stalklings, and it's a … popular threat from Gumm-Gumms."

"You forgot the sloorbeasts," said Enrique bitterly.

"Nobody's gotten lichen patches that bad." At least, they hadn't when Jim got out. "Have they?"

"Still counts."

"Uh, excuse me." Toby raised his hand. "I think I speak for us all when I say, what?"

"The Darklands are a hostile environment with predators and scavengers," explained Jim. "That's the other reason we slept in groups."

"Bigger targets, but we could have lookouts."

"Okay, that's its own kind of horrifying, but I was more reacting to the cannibalism?"

"Changelings don't count as real trolls," Enrique said sarcastically. "We're Impure."

He left out the part where they'd eaten their own dead. Jim didn't add it.

(It wasn't like they'd hunted each other for food. Sometimes a Changeling just died, somehow, in a way that didn't get them eaten by something else, and … well, food was scarce in the Darklands. They couldn't afford to be picky.

It also paid to keep watch over the sentry posts. Gunmar occasionally used the Decimaar Blade to post a sentry and then forgot to order them to rest and eat. Once they died, the average adult Gumm-Gumm was a meal for twenty Changelings, easily, if they could get to the body before the Gruesomes did.)

"Okay, we're switching to Frozen." Mary made the executive decision. "Wait," she said, while exchanging the disks. "If Changelings aren't trolls, how does Jim's adoption work?"

Because of course this was the perfect moment to tell Enrique about that, right in the middle of a squabble with his adopted sister.

"For one thing, most of Trollmarket still thinks I'm human." Jim switched back to human shape to illustrate the point.

"You got adopted?"

"AAARRRGGHH and Blinky thought I should have legal standing in Trollmarket outside of my job."

Enrique stared at him. Green diamond-shaped ears were pinned back. Buggy, slit-pupil eyes were wide and hurt.

"You get everything," he grumbled. "Two nicknames, and the goblins liked you, and you could always find food, and here you're the boss's favourite even when you're a traitor, and your human family still likes you, and now you get a troll family too? S'not fair."

"Hey, the goblins liked you, too." Jim was fully aware that wasn't much comfort compared to all the rest of it. "They gave you your nickname, remember?"

"They gave you one, too."

"Yeah, but you got yours first."

They probably weren't supposed to hear Darci when she muttered, "I feel like we're missing a lot of context."

"Shit," Claire muttered back. "Not Enrique told me a bit of the name part. They don't remember their names from before they were Changelings, and they don't get real names until they have Familiars, so they use nicknames instead. From each other or from goblins, he said."

"They don't get names?" Darci's voice went squeaky at the end of that.

"We're trying to come up with something other than 'Enrique' for him."

"You're trying," Enrique corrected. Darci squeaked again.

"Can we maybe circle back to the cannibalism thing?" said Toby. "That feels like the kind of trauma that should get unpacked at some point."

"I would rather leave it packed," said Jim.

"The way you blurted it out like that feels like you need to talk about it."

"Not all psychology is Freudian, Tobes."

"Do your parents still have baby name books from when they were picking Enrique's name?" Mary asked Claire. "Real Enrique, I mean."

"They didn't use one. He was named after our abuelo."

"Okay, so what about your other grandfather? What was his name?"

"Jose María." Defensively, "It's gender neutral in Spanish."

On the television screen, the movie menu finished another loop and started again.

"I tried spelling my name like it sounds, en are ee kay, but Claire said it spelled 'Nrek'. You get why I couldn't use that."

Jim laughed.

"What's funny?" asked Toby. "Is that an insult or something?"

"No, it's goblin, in English it means 'bottle'," Jim translated. "Or possibly 'container of food'." The only bottles he's seen them use held formula for the Familiars, and the word hadn't come up on the surface, so the distinction was unclear. "It's either a silly name or a really morbid one."

"Aaand we're back to the cannibalism."

"No we are not!"

"Na na na heyana, Hahiyaha naha …"

Either somebody had decided to start the movie, or the DVD had that feature where it automatically began playing if nothing was selected after a few loops of the menu.

The conversation went in circles a couple more times, then faded out.

+=+

"And who's the funky-looking donkey over there?"

"That's Sven."

"Uh-huh; and who's the reindeer?"

"… Sven."

"Oh, they're – ? Oh! Okay! Makes things easier for me."

"~Riot~," said Enrique.

"Huh?"

"My nickname. Before. It meant 'riot'."

What are you doing? Jim wanted to demand. Was Enrique just – just giving up on a real name?

"You can call me that for now. Till we work out a for-real one. Better than 'Not Enrique'."

Jim stuffed some burnt popcorn kernels into his mouth to keep from protesting. He couldn't undermine Enrique's – Riot's – chosen name, right in front of a bunch of humans, when he'd been arguing with them about how rude that was for weeks now.

"Oh. Okay." Claire half-smiled. "Riot."

Jim shut his eyes to hide the flaring glow.

+=+

Previous Chapter (Angor Rot gets treated much better, and more sensibly, than in canon, and is correspondingly less vengeful)

Table of Contents 

Next Chapter (Featuring either Otto or Gatto)

A quick thank you to Taycin on AO3 for providing some name-gender context when this chapter first went up.

[emerald-amidst-gold]

if i’m not too late, maybe B5, E2, F12 & L4 for Fane? <3

Never too late for asks, my friend! >:D If anything, I tend to be the late one because, well, I think way too long about some questions. *cackles*

Anyways, for Fane? FOR FANE. >:3

B5 - Do they hold doors open for people?

*snorts* No. *snorts again*

No, no, seriously, though? Fane does hold doors open for people, but only certain ones. Solas and Mhairi are the two who get the gift of Fane being a 'gentleman'. And Cyfrin? Fane's best friend from childhood? Yeah, no. Cyfrin and Fane have a relationship of poking at each other, so if he were to see the other man coming, then Fane would act like he's going to hold the door open for him and at the last minute, let it slam shut with a deadpan expression. Cyfrin's the little bastard that holds the handle so it can't be turned or pulled, and Fane fucking loses it because he's like, 'Why won't this door open? What's the fuck is it stuck on?! Is it a pull door or a push door?! Ffff!' Once he figures out it's Cyfrin doing the sticking...well, don't poke a dragon. Especially if you don't know one's lurking about. *hums happily*

As for visiting dignitaries to Skyhold, Fane employs some tactics from both Cyfrin and Sera, much to Josephine's dismay and Solas' exasperation. The latter is because Solas knows why Fane antagonizes the nobles that visit, aware that a lot of the pomp and circumstance brings forth some bitter memories, but he would like it if he didn't have to continually try to explain to Josephine how a specific door became plastered shut. Fane likes to keep all the trash contained is all. It spoils dinner otherwise.

E2 - Which of the nine types of intelligence is your OC strongest in? Weakest? (Linguistic, existential, naturalist, et cetera)

This one took me a bit, but I think Fane would be strongest in interpersonal intelligence. This is more in regards to how his draconic nature operates, but Fane as a person is keenly aware of people's emotions and he can detect changes in the atmosphere surrounding them. Fane may reiterate constantly that he doesn't care, but he does care. So much. Too much, at times. He's very empathetic, even though he would describe himself as apathetic.

Solas sees it. Mhairi sees it. Fane, for a very long time, refuses to see it because it's too much for him to bear. His mortal form is far more susceptible to sporadic emotions, and unlike when he was a dragon, Fane can't handle too many at once. It's why in some of my stories, Fane's eyes turn completely gold. That's an indication that emotions are running high and they need to be released. It can be his own or another's spurring that influx as well. Solas gets quietly irate? Fane absorbs it and tries to pinpoint where it's coming from, but his emotions can get in the way and muddy his abilities to accurately interpret thus his mind spirals, his nature twists like a spirit twists into a demon.

All in all, Fane is somewhat a people person in the fact that he can empathize with them. He understands the emotions of people. He watched them for years upon years. Now, he's trying to integrate himself physically rather than from afar, and it's proving to be not quite what he had expected centuries before. *snorts*

Weakest? Intra-personal. Hands down. Fane can delve into other's minds, piece them together, but his own? No way. He may spend copious amounts of time thinking, echoing thoughts, or having silent conversations with himself or even other people, but it fosters no understanding as to the inner workings of his mind and why it is the way that it is. Fane views the outer world as a prison, but his own mind? It's hell, and he wishes he no longer had to listen to furious roars, or to see flickering lights of crimson upon blackened walls that have weathered many a blaze, blazes that turn his memories to ash.

F12 - Would they enjoy a theme park?

Absolutely not. Fane's a hermit. I'm serious. He doesn't like large crowds or areas with a lot of loud, disorienting sounds. The crowds make him tense up, waiting for either a remark about his appearance or for something to blow up in his face. The noise created by those people or from other sources or at the same time makes his ears ring like high pitched bells. So, Fane sticks to the forests and the mountains, and in a modern world, he would stay at home or in places where he's familiar with the atmosphere. This is actually a bit where I've really projected myself onto Fane since I don't like going to places with a lot of noise and people. Honestly, it's more of a fear than a desire to stay isolated.

It's categorized as 'agoraphobia', and it's an anxiety disorder where being in an environment that you see no way out of, or an environment you have no control in makes you panic or just constantly on edge. Basically, you have such severe anxiety around areas you feel 'trapped' in (even open spaces) that you find it hard to leave your home or a place you do feel safe. You vehemently avoid the thing that's making you anxious and scared because you know where you have control, where you're safe, and that's more or less what Fane does. He prefers nature and the quiet serenity, but he's secretly terrified of the world he has to traipse through. Fane has a lot of issues of relinquishing control because he has never had it, so the moment something does feel out of control, that's where some dark thoughts start to crop up.

Well, that got a little weighty, didn't it? *pikachu face*

L4 - Would you hang out with your OC if you could?

100% YES! >:3 Listen, as much as I rag on Fane and call him a dumb dumb dragon who loves a dumb dumb wolf, I adore him. I care for him. I understand him and why he feels he needs to do the things he does. It's no different than how I feel about Solas as a character. I look at all angles of a perspective and i try to understand the why behind it. One thing to know about me is that if I absolutely adore a character and how they think, I rag on them until the cows come home. I believe that if you truly like something or care about something then you point out its flaws, its weaknesses because then that helps you answer the question of, 'How can I make it better?'. It's not bad to be critical and hold a character accountable for their actions, but you need to be intimately aware of why that character feels how they do. What led them to that decision? What has happened in their past, their present that's made them feel this is the only way? Why do they get upset about this, but not that? That's how I think when I analyze and interpret. Obviously, I miss the nail on the head at times, but I like to try and interpret as accurately as I can. That's why I love Solas! He has so many edges, some sharp, some soft, and I adore trying to see where they line up! X3

But, in regards to why I rag, it's because I'm very much the same in my few friendships. I poke, I tease, and I playfully bully, but I know when to ease up, take a step back if I pushed too hard. And if I had Fane here with me in real life, I would do the same to him. Trust me, it would be good for him. He needs a good BONK on the noggin sometimes! ...And so do I. Ehehe~ >:3 Though, Fane would more likely shoulder check me into a wall and demand that I answer for why I do the shit that I do to him. *bats eyelashes innocently* uwu Afterwards, we would laze around and be hermits together, though! :D

Thank you so much for the ask! X3 <3

[starfleetbotanist]

Here is the next in my Star Trek Classic Poetry series! This story is dedicated to @beauty-grace-outer-space , for her kindness and encouragement, and for a little something soft on the bad days! 💕🌱

James Tiberius Kirk was not having a good day. To be honest, he was having a terrible day. Kobiyashi Maru Take Two had gone over just about as well as the first time, his birthday was coming up (joy), and, frankly, his depression was kicking his ass.

"Don't sweat it too much, Jim," Len had told him earlier, patting his shoulder before he had to rush to a clinic shift. After helping Jim with the test, he was running late, but Boyce liked him so he'd assured him he'd be fine. "This is an impossible test. You did the best you could."

The thought made him scoff now, putting his code into their door. His best? That was his best? He'd failed! Pike had tried to talk to him after, too, but he passed him by. He didn't want to see the disappointment he knew would be in his eyes. Or, he admitted more fairly, that he expected to be in his eyes. Funny, how that more rational voice sounded like Len in his head.

He toed off his boots, grumbling to himself. As he made his way to his bed, ready to flop down and let himself wallow in depression, he began to remember the last time he'd taken the test. Len had found him, encouraged him, even read to him. "Invictus." He didn't feel very unconquerable now, though the memory did drag a tired smile from him.

Suddenly he noticed something. It was a letter, an actual, hand-written letter, on his pillow. Picking it up, there was no denying that doctorly scrawl. "For Jim, just in case." He raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparkling in him. Len was always pretty straight forward. If he had something to say, he'd say it. But to say something in a letter...

He sat down, opening it as he settled more comfortably on the bed. Inside was what he had suspected- a poem. He had to smile at that. Though this wasn't just one of Granny McCoy's poems. Well, it was, but it wasn't. Len has added some notes here and there, in blue pen rather than the black ink of the poem. It must have taken him a while to write. Taking a breath, he began to read.

"Love" by Roy Croft

I love you,

Not only for what you are,

But for what I am

When I am with you.

(Jim, I can't begin to thank you for everything you've done for me, everything you mean to me.)

I love you

Not only for what

You have made of yourself,

But for what

You are making of me.

(You've been working so hard, Jim, giving the academy the best of you. And I'm so damn proud. You've grown so much while we've been here, and you've brought me with you every step of the way.)

I love you

For the part of me

That you bring out;

I love you

For putting your hand

Into my heaped-up heart

And passing over

All the foolish, weak things

That you can't help

Dimly seeing there,

And for drawing out

Into the light

All the beautiful belongings

That no one else had looked

Quite far enough to find.

(I was in a bad place when we met, Jim. The academy was my last hope, and I didn't hold out much for that. I'm sure I wouldn't still be here without you. You saw all of it, my darkest and lowest moments, and you never judged me for them, but found things in me that made me think I would be okay, that I could make something out of myself.)

I love you because you

Are helping me to make

Of the lumber of my life

Not a tavern

But a temple;

Out of the works

Of my every day

Not a reproach

But a song.

I love you because you have done

More than any creed

Could have done

To make me good,

And more than any fate

Could have done

To make me happy.

(You saved me, Jim. You gave me back hope, gave me back a purpose beyond my work. Saved me from drowning in my own self-pity. You inspire me to be a better man, one you can count on. Even when things get bad.)

You have done it

Without a touch,

Without a word,

Without a sign.

You have done it

By being yourself.

Perhaps that is what

Being a friend means,

After all.

(So, yeah. I do love you, Jim. You're my best friend. And I promise to stick by you. Where you go, I go. Even to the stars. So don't you give up on yourself, okay? You've got me. And you're gonna be a great captain, no matter what some damn test says.)

- Bones"

He wasn't sure when he had started crying, but the tears blurred the page just as he finished reading. He sat the letter on his pillow and wiped his eyes, taking a shaky breath. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard someone clear their throat nearby.

He glanced up, and Len was sitting on his own bed opposite him.

"Bones?" He asked, his voice thick with emotion.

"It's me, Jim. I, uh... I told Boyce that I had a family matter come up. He understood."

"You wrote this for me?"

"Yeah. Last night, after you went to bed."

"So you knew I'd fail," Jim muttered, his earlier surliness returning.

"Not necessarily. I knew if anyone could beat it, it would be you."

"But you still wrote this."

"Well, yeah. Like it said on the envelope, just in case."

"What was your plan if I passed it? Did you write one for me if succeeded?"

He couldn't help but grin as Len blushed to his ears.

"I'll take that as a yes," he chuckled.

"You can't have that one 'til we graduate," Len growled.

"Yes, sir," he mock saluted. After a moment's pause, he ventured, "you really meant all that?"

"You know I did, Jim. I wouldn't have written it otherwise."

"Why a letter?"

"So you can keep it. You like old fashioned things, and sometimes the roar of those negative thoughts drowns out the good things you hear. So maybe being able to hold those feelings, those memories, will help them stick a little better."

Jim was quiet, taking up the paper and gently rubbing his fingers across it.

"Thanks, Bones. Really. I-- I needed this."

"Any time, Jim. And I mean that. You can always come to me."

They shared a quiet smile before Len's PADD dinged. He glanced at it briefly, then snorted.

"Get some civvies on. Boyce has just informed me that you and I are gonna join him and Pike for some drinks."

"We are?"

"Yup. When Boyce says drinks, he means drinks."

Jim laughed. His earlier melancholy had muted. It wouldn't get better just like that, but... He was going to keep trying. Changing out of his uniform and into his favorite jeans, he looked to Len.

"Bones?"

"Yeah, Jim?"

"I love you, too."

[charlieliqueur]

Bigby Wolf X Reader

Thanks

▪️▪️▪️

He'd spent so long alone, so long wrapped up in cigarettes, work, and exhaustion that love or the idea of it stopped crossing his mind. Until he saw you. In actuality, he smelled you. A scent so unfamiliar and sudden, his eyes instinctually looked around for it. Your natural scent was so alluring and comforting he felt such a sorrow when it vanished, because you'd gone. Bigby had it plague his head for the rest of the day. He clouded his senses with cigarette smoke to drown it out, but the memory stayed.

Then, one day, once more unexpectedly, he smelled it again. And he was determined to follow it to the source this time. All the way to a small bookshop, tall shelves, a single older gentleman at a counter, the shop empty. But the scent of you was so strong, it was fucking with his head.

Then you were there, all of the sudden, racing out of the shelves, and it slowed for him. Watching your hair caught in the wind you made as you rushed, your gentle arms clutching a few books in them closely, eyes lit up with such a vibrant joy they almost shined. You went straight to the counter, and his breath was lost as he couldn't help but stare.

"Here's the books you asked for, sir," you said happily. "Or, well, most of them. I'm having issues finding the last one, at least getting to it," you say, shrugging. "Its alright, y/n-- Oh, Sheriff, what a pleasant surprise! Any specific reason for your visit?" Asked the man, and you turned around to see him.

He had to think of a lie. He couldn't say he'd been intoxicated by the aroma of the girl standing just a few feet away, waiting for his answer with a curious eagerness that set his heart into a thumping frenzy. "Well, from the looks of things, no. Prank call came in I guess, probably just some jackasses trying to cause trouble, sorry to bother you," he says, relieved it was believable.

But you didn't seem impressed. A doubtful scent cascaded over you, but your mouth stayed closed in a gentle smile, before opening to speak. "No problem, mister. Glad to see you take protecting all Fabletown with such care and commitment," she said, and what surprised him more than the statement was the fact that she was telling the truth.

Which only set in further pining.

He didn't want to leave, but in order for his lie to stick as truth, he had to. Now alone in his office, he stared at his paperwork, but couldn't manage to lift a pen. All that was on his mind was you. Your name, face, scent, smile. It fogged up everything. His while body was reacting to it. His heart, his head. He clutched his hands together and set his stumbled chin on them.

It wasn't long before he reacted to this like he did with all his emotions. Uneasy aggression. "Just get out of my fucking head," he grumbled, setting his palms on his forehead, sneering and breathing heavily. But the memory persisted. He wanted to see you again. He didn't know what lie to tell, what reason to give. All he knew is he couldn't sit still with you on hid mind like this.

The frustration began to seep out to others who knew him and spoke to him. Often times he'd zone out, smelling you miles away, it pushing past the cigarettes. Snow would notice his distant behaviour, asking what was wrong. He'd shake his head, adjust his tie, light a cigarette and always reply with 'nothing'.

Nothing was wrong.

Nothing on his mind.

Nothing bothering him.

Nothing going on.

Nothing to worry about.

Nothing.

But there was something.

There was somebody. A somebody with an atmosphere of acceptance and beauty he had never witnessed before, even though he thought he had.

Colin would see him sitting at home, smoking nonstop, drowning himself in Bourbon to try and buzz his mind enough to scrape you off it. But it didn't work. Then he'd ask if Bigby was alright. Same answers as before.

When patrolling, he'd purposely walk by that little shop, maybe hoping to catch a glance through the windows. Sometimes he did. He'd see you writing at desks, standing on ladders putting books back, reading at tables, or just chatting to customers, a warm smile almost always present. He started looking for you in stories. Started trying to find illustrations, so he had something to look at when he couldn't look at you.

It was Bufkin who first noticed a strange pattern. As Bigby had to ask the monkey for the books, the Oz creature would sometimes sit nearby and watch, curious. It was days after Bigby began the habit of sneaking into the Business Office to look through your stories that Bufkin asked "Who is she?"

A question that caught Bigby so off guard he embarrassingly slammed the book shut quickly saying, "W-Who, what do you mean?" He cursed at himself in his head for making such an obvious scene of it. It was only Bufkin, right? He would never piece it all together, right?

"Is it perhaps that the Sheriff is experiencing rather romantical feelings?" The monkey teased.

"No, and watch what you say," he warns, feeling his face heating up. He tried to get it to stop, but that only made it worse. "Oh dear, it is true isn't it?" The monkey asked, surprised. He pulled the book away from Bigby, opening it quickly to the page. "Hey!" He tries to stop the monkey, but it was too late.

Bufkin read through, and grinned slyly. "I swear to god you tell anyone and I'll-"

"You'll what? What is this about, Bigby?" Asked a female voice, belonging to Snow. He stopped, and hesitantly turned to see her, arms crossed over her chest and an eyebrow raised. "Bigby seems to be pining over a girl!" Bufkin blurted out. The Sheriff shot him a glare, which he flinched at.

"Really?? So that's what has been going on! The distance, the zoning out, Bigby why didn't you say anything?" She asks, and he groans. "I've only spoken to her once, its nothing," he says, rubbing his face.

"You do realize we're Fables? Suddenly falling for someone is more common than you realize."

"Not for me," he states, stubborn.

"Yes, even you. Now I don't expect you to talk about it, but you should," Snow says, leaning against the desk the book had been on, glancing at the open Fables book.

On its pages were pictures of you, illustrations that would never do your true beauty justice. But they were close enough to put his heart at ease a moment.

"Her names y/n, pretty sure she works at the bookshop. The one down Wiltshire Ave..." he says, but he wasn't sure he could say much else. The rest of the reasoning for his feelings were rather... emotional. How your smile made him feel, how your scent calmed him.

It was the sort of sappy stuff he wanted no part in... or did he?

More days spent wishing for you, to hold you close, to even fucking talk to you. It was on a rainy evening that his wish came true.

He was walking back to The Woodlands after breaking up a rather rough bar fight. That's when he saw you, coat half on and umbrella hooked on your arm, locking the bookshop door. Or trying to. You dropped the keys the second time when he had made it to you. Your scent mixed with the rain and it sent shocks through his body.

"Need a little help?" He asked, noticing your wet hair and skin, the light from nearby streetlamps dancing on your face and neck. You looked up at him, and smiled embarrassed. "Maybe a little," you admit, holding the keys up in your hands. He carefully locked the doors, handing the key back to you. Yoj smiled and nodded, saying "Thank you so much, glad you could come to my rescue." You carefully tugged your coat on the rest of the way, and he noticed you shiver a second. You pulled the umbrella off your arm and pushed it open.

"No problem, what I'm here for," he says. Of course you heard a simple joke. But he meant it as a lasting promise to be there for you, no matter what. "I usually love the rain, just don't like walking home in it," you admitted, laughing.

"Walking?"

"Oh, yes. But don't worry! It's only a couple blocks," you assured, gesturing in the direction. "Well, I'm headed that way anyways, might as well make sure you get home alright," he says, and you grinned. "Well, if you insist... thank you, again."

"No problem, again," he says, and you both walked, you clutching the umbrella handle close to you. You looked up at him, noticing him glancing at you. But the fact that he was getting rained on concerned you more. You stepped closer to him, and he looked quickly at you. You lifted the umbrella carefully, letting it hover above the both of you two.

"There you are, not fair for me to cover just myself," you say, smiling again. That smile... he had to forcefully keep himself from just putting his lips on yours right then and there. He craved it. Same way he craved being around you, because you never smelled like fear or hate or disgust. Always pleasant surprise, joy, and contentment. You weren't scared of him. He felt maybe you were the only one who wasn't.

"This is me," you said as the both of you stepped under an overhang in front of the dingy apartment building. "Pretty creepy," he says, trying to be light. But in all honesty it upset him to see that you lived in such an unpleasant place. You deserved better in his eyes.

"Yeah, pretty sure the place is haunted. Gets spooky at night, ghosts and stuff, I stay up late sometimes 'cause of it. Thanks again, you know," you say once more. You always were thanking him. Always so grateful. That's when it hit him. The instincts that made him a great Sheriff told him something. Your shifting of body, tone of voice, direction of eyes. You didn't want to be left alone here, you didn't want him to go.

Before you could step too far away, he says, "I don't think I've ever seen an actual ghost."

You turned back towards him and smiled slightly. "I can't promise anything, but if you don't have anything super important... might be able to coax one out," you say.

That's how he ended up in your apartment, listening to cassette tapes and talking. He hadn't even realized how long you'd both been up until he could see the sky lightening. "You ought to sleep, it's basically dawn," he says, and you shrugged. "Probably. You should sleep too though..." you say, and he nodded, getting up and heading to the door.

"Um, Bigby?" You started hesitantly, and he immediately turned back towards you. "Thanks for hanging around with me. It was really fun," you say, and once more a smile arose.

"No problem, anytime," he says, and he meant it. He'd spend the rest of whatever freetime he got with you. "Well, if you're serious, the bookshop is pretty boring most days..."

"I'll have to change that," he said, a small smile crossing his lips, and your eyes lit up. "See you later then," you say, and he agrees, leaving.

He would be there. Again and again. Pining or not, love or not, he would be there for you, and one day with you. With with you. If he played the card right, if he took his time and chose his words carefully, he'd get that smile for himself everyday...