#me: oh obviously bitter water for flower husbands!!

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

I've been considering making a playlist with one song for each of the ships I love, which I think is a great idea and all (as long as I made a code for what song means which ship in case I forgot), but I ran into an problem.

For ships without a canon song to relate them to I could just pick a song that makes me think of them, which was the original intention anyway (it's just that for several the main song is one in canon), but here is where the issue lies: I thought of too many.

So now I have to decide between several songs for each ship lol. It's the main reason I haven't made the playlist yet xd. Help :').

[thran-duils]

Dubious Representation (P.4, Final)

Title: Dubious Representation (Part Four, Final) Summary: Fem!Reader x soft Dark!Hank Palmer. Reader’s husband is facing jail time and although Hank Palmer entered the counsel for pro bono, he is still going to get a form of payment. Recently single, he’s been lonely and he’s looking for some comfort. Even if it means obtaining it from less than savory means. Words: 3,110 Warnings (for entire fic): Eventual smut, sexual coercion, infidelity, mention of past domestic violence, verbal abuse

Part Three || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Hank came downstairs, buttoning up his dress shirt. You looked over your shoulder from where you were making breakfast, something you had gotten accustomed to when you stayed over. It was relaxing. He was right about one thing; you did love to cook. And it was nice you had someone who actually seemed to appreciate it rather than taking it for granted. Not to mention, his kitchen was top notch, and his fridge was always stocked cause he gave you the money to do so.

He caused you to pause for a second as he grabbed your shoulders to hold you while he kissed your temple.

“Morning, doll,” he spoke against your skin before he pulled away. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm.” You always did on his expensive mattress. Especially after he wore you out.

You finished up and made up two plates. Turning around you found him at the island, clicking away on his phone. You placed his plate in front of him, him thanking you, and slid onto the stool next to him.

He swore under his breath and tossed his phone down before he started eating.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“Lisa is being a bitch as usual.” He held a lot of contempt for his ex-wife.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing for you to be sorry about.” He took another bite and eyed you. “I’ve got Lauren this weekend again.”

You made sure you were away when she was there. He never made you feel like you had to be but the few weekends he had with her since you had started seeing him, you made yourself scarce.

“Good. You haven’t seen her in a while,” you told him, and you meant it. It had been a couple weeks. “I need to clean my apartment too, so this is good.”

“You don’t gotta go home.”

You shot him a look at that and saw he was staring at you with purpose. You swallowed your bite and forced a shrug. “It’s okay. It’s good you guys have time alone together.”

“We don’t have to always be alone together,” Hank said, taking another bite. He shrugged in turn now, fixing you with another intense look. “I’ve thought about you moving in.”

That was unexpected. And all you could muster was, “Oh.”

“‘Oh’ what?” He sounded like he was going to get on a combative route.

You rested your hand on the counter, meeting his eyes. “That… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not? Explain it to me.”

You blinked. How did you explain how wrong you felt about falling into another man’s bed so soon? The same day Rich had left, you were back with Hank. Not that you had not slept with him before then but… and how guilty you felt about your feelings for him? His relationship had already been done and had been for a while. You were moving on without a consensual party who had no idea what was happening outside their jail cell. No matter how free you felt since you were not afraid of what kind of mood Rich was going to be in when you got home, there was still history.

“It seems too quick.”

“It’s been six months.” Hank grabbed the jug of iced tea you had placed on the counter and began pouring you and him glasses.

“A lot of people would say too quick.”

“Rich is refusing to see you when you have gone to visit. I don’t think it’s quick enough we make this more serious.”

He sounded bitter about the Rich comment. When you had told him you were going to visit Rich in prison the first time, Hank had been frigid. And then the next two times, he was still bristled. And he had had a “told you so” attitude about it when you came back mopey because he was right about that: Rich refused to see you. He would walk in and see it was you at the table and turn around and walk back through the door.

“Don’t you think?” Hank continued as he finished pouring the iced tea. “You are already sleeping here half the week. It’s a waste of money for you to keep the apartment.”

You chewed on your bottom lip. The apartment was yours now. Something you had not had to yourself for years. But you felt more comfortable here.

“I guess when you put it that way,” you said.

He saw your resolve crumbling and he capitalized, leaning on his arm to come closer to you. “Then what’s the issue?”

“My apartment—"

“You know. I brought it up to come to the point to just tell you: Don’t worry about it. I’ve already contacted your building manager about paying off the rest of the lease. You had only four more months left so that wasn’t a huge expense. You need to sign the paperwork though.”

“Hank!”

“What?”

“You didn’t even ask me. And they just spoke to you about my lease when you’re not even on it?”

Hank waved you off, “You’re getting distracted. Did you wanna keep living there with no AC in the summer and then shitty heating in the winter? And that carpet was atrocious in the halls. Do you not like my house?”

“I like it. A lot.”

“Then again, let me ask, what’s the issue?” You had nothing to say, and he grasped your hand. “Doll, all you need to do is go pack up the things you want to bring here — I’ll get you boxes — and then the rest of it we can send to the thrift shop. AND—" he rose his voice as soon as he saw you were going to protest, and you closed your mouth. “The other stuff — you know things of his — we can ship to his next of kin.”

“His parents.”

“Good. They can inherit it. Just like they’ll inherit him when he’s out.”

You let that sink in for a couple moments before you realized a way out of being here while Lauren was here. “Well, then I should go to my apartment this weekend to do that…”

Hank looked impressed for a split second before he agreed, “I suppose so. But I want you available on Saturday morning. You don’t have to stay here but we are going to the botanical gardens and then getting lunch. I want you there. Is that fair?”

It was a type of compromise, a rarity.

“Yes.”

He had still gotten his way. As usual.

<><><>

Lauren was a sweet girl, eleven years old. She was headstrong just like Hank, and you had to smile watching them go back and forth about their opinions. She was going to be a force to be reckoned with.

When she got you alone for a moment, she was watching you closely.

“What’s up?” you asked, trying to hide your unease.

“I told my dad that daddies don’t get lonely when he asked me who I wanted to live with when they were getting divorced.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. They move on quick.” Your stomach clenched, worried where this conversation was going. “But my mom was dating someone before he was. Like almost immediately. It’s just weird. But I’m glad he has someone now.”

You relaxed and nodded before you told her, “Me too. He makes me happy.”

<><><>

A week and a half later, there was a voicemail on your cell phone. You did not recognize the number.

You pressed on it and your blood chilled hearing Rich’s voice.

“Y/N, what the fuck is this about all these boxes of my shit showing up at my parent’s house? You know they don’t have the space in their two bedroom. And what the fuck are you sending it away for in the first place? If you’re even thinking about kicking me out, you’ve got another thing coming, you little bitch. Do you understand me? Moving on like a fucking hussy now that I’m in here and you’ve got space in the bed? I know you’re helpless when it comes to providing for yourself but if you think I’m gonna let it slide that you are spreading your legs for some other fucking guy cause you can’t hack it on your own, you are sorely mistaken! I—”

The voicemail cut off. He must have run out of time.

Your lip was warbling as you stared down at your phone.

“What is it?”

Hank’s voice startled you. He was rubbing his hair with a towel, another one wrapped around his waist, straight from the shower.

“Nothing,” you said wiping at your eyes.

Hank’s arm dropped from his head, and he stalked over. He reached his hand out, gesturing for you to hand over your phone. He did not buy it when you said nothing. You slowly relented and he took it from you. Pressing play, he replayed the button and you flinched, the words hurting just as much if not more than the first time you heard them.

Snorting, Hank deleted the message. “Fuck him. And his condescension. You’re doing what’s best for you, and you are hacking it on your own. I say it’s about time you got a new number, Hmm? To avoid that bullshit.” Your lips parted in surprise, and he held your phone back out to you. You took it as he said, “I’ll add you to my plan, baby. We can go tomorrow. I don’t have meetings in the afternoon.”

With that, he turned and walked back towards the bathroom. He had not waited for you to respond.

<><><>

As soon as you were two weeks late, Hank brought home a test. He had stopped using condoms months ago when things had progressed. That same night, he had taken you out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate. He had taken you there before and you had adored it. That time though it was like a fog was clouding the room. You were happy, you had wanted to be a mother, and he was happy. But you were still married.

Hank had obviously been thinking about that too because a couple days later, he brought it up bluntly as he was watering his flowers.

“You should get a divorce.”

Pushing your sunglasses up, you stared at him in shock. You were reclining on a lawn chair, reading a magazine.

When you did not respond, he looked over his shoulder. You knew this conversation was coming but the knowledge of that did nothing to soften the blow.

“That seems heartless.”

“What? Fully leaving? Or are you telling me you’re planning to go back to him?” He was using that challenging tone.

“No!” you blurted. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

He turned the hose off and dropped it turning to face you.

“Y/N, he’s been in jail for over a year. You’ve already sent his shit away, he’s gotten mad about it, you don’t know if his family cares cause you aren’t at the apartment, you’re living with me. And you’re not at your old job. So, they can’t find you there. And you got a new number so no one can contact you. I think the writing has been on the wall where this is going. So what’s with dragging your feet?”

“It’s… hard.”

“A lot of things are hard, but we deal with them. Look, you’ll feel better once it’s over and done with and so will I. I don’t like knowing you’re still legally tied to that bastard. Can you understand that? Not just as the man you’re with but from an attorney’s viewpoint. It’s not good news. I’d sleep easier at night knowing he’s not gonna try to pull some shit.”

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest if you initiate and oversee this?”

Hank gave a brief chuckle, “No. I’m allowed to represent blood family even. I’m supposed to be unbiased of course but it’s legal to do it. I’m allowed to represent anyone.” He came closer, looking down at you on the chair. “And honestly, if I have it under my belt I represented him — that is if the bastard decides to take it to court, which I’m doubtful he will — and ‘saw the errors of my choice’ and now I’m trying to help you out, that’ll help in court.” He saw the look on your face and shrugged sheepishly. “I don’t mean to be insensitive but that’s how juries are swayed. Sob stories. And I could hit that shit out of the park.”

Swallowing, you contemplated. You had been thinking about divorce for a while. Even more so now that you knew you were carrying Hank’s baby.

You had taken too long to respond again, and Hank added, “Free of charge for you of course.”

You gave a small smile and said, “Hank… yeah, fine. I know.”

“‘Fine’? ‘You know’? Doll, you know I like you to elaborate your firm feelings.”

“I’ve been thinking about it. And I need to take a plunge. I wanna be invested in us. Fully.”

Hank nodded, “That’s better.” He nodded once more. “I’ll get them drafted up tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is Sunday.”

“And?”

“Don’t you wanna enjoy the weekend?”

Hank simpered, “What’s a weekend?”

<><><>

Hank strolled past the security gate and swooped his briefcase up. The visiting room in the prison was bare and beat up. He was seated at the table, waiting, reading emails. As soon as the prisoners were trickling into the room, he kept an eye on the door.

The moment Rich walked in, he hesitated seeing Hank. Unlike with Y/N, he ventured into the room and pulled the chair back, sitting across the table from Hank.

“Surprised you haven’t found yourself in max yet. I was expecting to talk to you through glass. Whatever works though,” Hank clipped, sitting up straight.

“What are you doing here?” Rich asked, his tone tight. He ignored Hank’s jab.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Hank said, opening his briefcase and pulling out the pile of papers. He tossed them onto the table and leaned back, waiting for Rich to respond.

Rich stared at them for a few moments and shrugged, “What are these? Early release? I thought I made it clear I didn’t want you representing me anymore.”

“Ah, no,” Hank laughed. He was unable to hold it back. “Divorce papers actually. And I’m not representing you. I’m representing Y/N.”

Rich’s face darkened and he snapped, “What?”

“She’s divorcing you now that she’s not afraid you’re gonna bash her in with a monkey wrench. You’re right here, my man. And she’s free out there.” He leaned in closer and said, “Seriously, you fucking up the way you did worked out best for everyone. She’s positively glowing.” He tapped the papers and said, “So, it’s all in here. Just need you to read it over, get your signature, and it’ll be solid.”

Rich was staring harshly at Hank and Hank could pinpoint the moment the realization washed over him. He looked murderous. “You.”

“Yeah, me.”

“You son of a bitch. Just swooping in when you saw weakness,” Rich growled, slamming his hand on the table. The guards took notice and he immediately reeled it in, much to Hank’s amusement who had not even flinched. Through gritted teeth, Rich vowed, “You’re not going to get away with this. She’s my wife—"

“Yeah, a wife you have refused to see for over a year because what? You’re mad you had to come to her rescue because you were rolling too hard to pay proper attention as she almost got assaulted? Great. Husband of the year award right for you. I’ll make sure it’s delivered.”

“I’m not going to roll over on this!”

Hank waved him off, quipping. “Take it to court then. We know how well that worked out for you last time.” He smiled cruelly, “Do you understand how even more easy it would be for me this time to get them to turn against you than the DA did last time? I could easily paint myself as the white knight and yeah, sure, you would get a day out of the prison to come to court, which might seem worth it to you, but it is worth the cost for good representation? I don’t think so. You will get the floor mopped with you and the end result would be the same.”

Rich looked furious and Hank threw his hands out. “Think about it this way. Once you’re out, you can find another woman who was just as naïve and young as Y/N and do what you will. It’s wiping the slate clean for you, fresh start. Plus, Y/N’s already pregnant, so she’s pretty settled in already with me. Don’t wanna go messing that up cause trust me, motherfucker, I will make that hell for you. I’ve got the resources to do so. And man, do I have a vendetta against your ass. So, do you really want to try me?” If Rich could look more furious. His fists were clenched on the table, shaking, but he was keeping himself from lunging across the table. Hank was even impressed; the bastard really did not want to go to max.

Clearing his throat, Hank leaned over and grabbed his briefcase, standing up. “Anyways, you can wipe your ass with that if you want, but it’s still going to go forward. And I have more copies. Just let me know what you wanna do.” He pulled a business card out of his pocket and carelessly tossed it onto the table. “In case you forgot my number, champ.”

<><><>

Hank came up behind you and kissed at the nape of your neck. “You didn’t need to do this.”

“You weren’t home when you normally do it,” you told him, running the water from the hose over the hydrangeas that he cherished so much.

“I’m only thirty minutes late,” Hank chuckled.

“But you are particular.”

“That I am,” he breathed, kissing you again on your shoulder. He nuzzled in and nipped at your ear, drawing a smile out of you. “I got the papers back today.”

That caused you to stall, your hand dropping every so slightly, the water not arching as high. It had been a couple weeks since Hank had gone to the prison and all he had told you was that he had left the papers with Rich. You had not heard anything since. Hearing that he had actually sent them back signed…

He noticed your demeanor and his hands came around you, coming to your stomach. He held you protectively there and breathed reassuringly, “Looks like our family is going to be okay.”

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney  @biiskuitx

[pastelbatfandoms]

The VK’s:Gods and Pirates

Warnings- None yet. Same as Chapter 1. 

Chapter 2-A Healing Death Grip

The roll of Thunder could be heard all the way down to Earth,Enjoy The Thunderstorm Guys,Meghana thought wryly. So Yes Zeus and her Parents had found out about Meghana’s secret training sessions with Hades,they weren’t too happy about it. 

Zeus wasn’t too happy with his Wife either. “You knew about this?!” Zeus faced his wife,a clap of lighting could be heard at his anger. 

Hera didn’t seemed too phased by the show obviously used to her Husband’s temper. Hera looks over at her Husband nonchalantly,arms crossed. “Oh enough with the intimidation show Zeus it’s not going to work on anyone here.” Then She noticed Meghana hiding behind Hades and gave a short laugh. “Except your Granddaughter it seems.” Hera smiled kindly at Meghana. “It’s ok dear not everyone is upset at you.” Hera holds up a hand before Zeus could speak up. “Before you start Zeus yes I did know and no I didn’t feel like you needed to know,not with your Poseidon like temper.”

“What about us Mother?” Hercules asked finally speaking up,”You didn’t think Meg and I should know about our Daughter gallivanting off with Hades?!” 

 “Hey that's My line!" Hades butted in. Pointing a finger.

The Gods in the circle,including Meg,all turned to glare at Hades.

Seeing their looks,Hades let out a cough. "I'll just put this away..." Hades blew the flame from his finger out and stepped back. Lest he be sent to The Underworld again until next Winter Solstice.

“It wasn’t some sort of love affair Father,” Scoffed Meghana. “Hades was training me to actually make use of my powers instead of just hiding them away like you and GrandFather would rather do!”

“Even if it was My brother has no say given his many shall we say romantic indiscretions.” Hades piped in,egging them on further as he was wont to do. 

Meghana eyed Hades. “Hades you’re not helping.” As she noticed Zeus glaring at him,if he could shoot lighting bolts out of his eyes he would have.

“So there’s nothing going on between you two?” Megara asked by Hercules side,finally speaking up. 

“No.” Meghana answered a little too quickly,for the both of them. While Hades was still thinking it over.

“Are you so sure?” Hera asked with a knowing look. 

“Yeah are you sure?” Hades asked over Meghana’s shoulder. 

“I’m...” Instead of a sarcastic remark or look as she had given him in The Underworld,which is what Hades was expecting. Meghana looked up at him,her words faltering. Then looked down,blushing when Hades grinned at her.

Megara puts a hand to her forehead. “Oh Gods. really Megs? Him?” 

Hercules looked ready to strangle Hades or punch him back into The Underworld.  “You know he kidnapped your Mother right? and tried to have me killed as a Baby?!” 

Hades sighed in frustration. “This again. Look,She already knows and I did not KIDNAP Megs we had A DEAl! “ Hades was pissed and irritated now,his flames glowing red. Until Meghana touched his arm,an act that did not go unnoticed by Megara or Hera. “Plus lover Boy I did not try to have you KILLED I was trying to make you human, I would have had a throne,you would have been...look it’s water under the bridge”  Hades said a bit more calmly.

“A Throne you do not deserve!” Rumbled Zeus. 

“Says who Brother? you? Off all The Gods,that is rich.” Hades let out a bitter laugh,his words laced with Sarcastic venom. 

“That’s enough!” Meghana shouted. “This isn’t about old feuds or who deserves what!”

“It kind of is Sweetness.” Hades remarked

Meghana gave him a look and said. “No It’s not. It’s about Hades and I and My sneaking out to learn how to use My own powers right? I mean that’s why you’re all here and angry.”

Her Grandparents and Parents all nodded in agreement.

“So Why don’t I show you.” 

But before Meghana can begin,Hercules stops her with a hand on her shoulder. “Meghana wait,it’s too dangerous. You’re not ready.”

“No Father,I’m more than ready.” Though Meghana’s words were firm,her gaze still held love for her Father and all the others who had raised her. But she still stepped out of Hercules grasp,closing her eyes as Hades walked towards her. 

Hercules started to step forward but Megara stopped him with a shake of her head. “Let’s see what she can do.”

On the other side of the room,Hades was giving Meghana some much needed reassurance. “Remember your training. Don’t THINK it will work. KNOW it will.” Hades whispered in her ear,uncharastically calm.

Meghana nods at his words and raises her hands up. Hades takes a step back and mumbles. “Usually I’d let Pain and Panic do this one,but there not here so.” With a wave of his hand Hades produces a boulder and hovers it above Meghana’s open arms,there are gasps when it is dropped unceremoniously into her hands. But to their surprise Meghana not only catches the boulder,she holds onto it,then slowly raises it up in the air with one hand. Then she brings her other hand up to it as well,crushing The boulder between both hands as easily as crushing up a paper ball.  It exploded into concrete dust.

The Gods looked on in shock. Hercules was the first to speak. “How did you...” 

“ I may not have your brute strength Father but I do have My own inner Strength and have learned how to manifest it,thanks to Hades.” Meghana replied smiling back at Hades who pretended to act modest. 

“That was all you Doll.” Hades said,giving her a wink.  “Let's show them what else you can do.” 

“I don’t really think that’s necessary Hades.” Hera spoke up. 

But Hades ignored her as he lit up,not just his hair but his hands as well. Then,before anyone could stop him,Hades enveloped Meghana,engulfing her in his flames. 

“No!” Her Mother cried out and Zeus aimed a lighting bolt at Hades,but before he could release it Meghana walked out of Hades embrace,unscathed. Zeus lowered his lighting bolt.

“See I told you they’d overreact.” Hades mumbled in her ear. 

Meghana just grinned and put her hands out in front her. “Mother,I’m fine.” 

Megara ran to her Daughter,checking her over. “Megs is right,she’s fine. Not a single burn on her.” 

“Another thing Hades taught me is how to strengthen My Healing powers,not just to heal others but Myself too.” Meghana told them.

“Hades taught you how to HEAL?” Zeus looked at them in disbelief. 

Hades just gave a dramatic shrug of his shoulders under the long leather coat.

Hercules though out of all them looked the least impressed,his head dropped as he put his hands on his hips. “I was afraid of this. I knew once Hades found out you had powers,it would be over. He’s only using you Meghana.” 

“I’m not naive Father,I had a feeling Hades might be using me. But I think that’s changed now.” Meghana told him but looked at Hades. Hades stared back at her,not for the first since being around her was he rendered speechless,as Meghana starts to sing.

Meghana-I've been your good girl for so long,always followed what The God of Thunder and The Hero of Strength told me. Once upon a time Olympus was paradise,I never needed anything but you and My Family of Gods. But it's time to let it go,time for me to grow. 

Hercules-You can grow here. Stay in this palace made of Clouds,with all of us. Hades cannot protect you. Not like we can. You can be happy here.

Meghana- Oh Dear Father I know you mean well,but I can't grow while concealing My Powers,I am not meant to be hidden away in the light,Hades can protect me just as well. 

Hercules- Flowers can't grow in a dead place,Hades will only bring you darkness. My Daughter I know you want freedom,if you want to soar take faithful Pegasus,don't fly on the wings of Demons. Hades will only deceive you,If only you could see that. 

Meghana- The only one who deceived me was you. Hades has never lied,I see what you cannot,and who says I am only light? maybe I'll be happy in the darkness,maybe the darkness could use some healing. I am not some lovesick girl,I am more capable than you think. 

Megara- Maybe she is right Hercules,She is her Mother's Daughter,strong,resilient- Hercules-Stubborn. Hades-Sassy Megara- Megs needs her freedom just like I did,maybe she could actually find it in The God of The Underworld,something I never could. She has proven her strength. You need to let it go,let her go. 

Hera-Trust in her,or she's gone for good. Hercules- But she's too young to know what's good for her Zeus- Son we're Gods,there's no such thing Hera- Only to you husband

Meghana- They're right Father. Trust in me,believe in me like they do. I cannot grow in Olympus,I need Hades more then I'll admit,I'll come back someday. But I need to spread My wings, to see all that My powers can do. All that Hades can teach me. let it go, Let me go,for once just let me go. 

Hercules- If freedom is what you truly want,with him. Then why don't you take it,but The Power you will not have,protection can only be sought on an Isle of Lost with the help of a Beast. Darkness cannot rule here,it's time to let you go.

And just like that with the end of a song,Hades and Meghana were sent tumbling down to Earth. 

END of Part 2

A/N: Hope you liked the song,I haven’t written one in 14 years...So what is next for Hades and Meghana on The Isle of lost? Are they now Powerless? Guess you’ll just have to wait to find out.  

Part 3

[cfavigncn]

hi hi! my name’s hannah ( she / her, 23, est ) and this little marshmallow is juliette dewhitt, though most here would know her as avignon!  she’s a front desk receptionist at the hotel. i’ve got info on her below the cut! like this or message me if you want to plot because it’s my fave thing ever!  i’m also in the discord so we can talk there too. can’t wait to get started!!!

tw: cheating, verbal abuse, alcoholism

INFO.

❛   ｡   ❄️  ﾟ danielle campbell. female. she/her /  did i hear you say flowers pressed between the pages of a well-loved book, sunlight peeking through clouds, a half-empty bottle of lavendar perfume, & a smile no less genuine just because it’s exhausted ? then you must be talking about avignon, i’d recognize them anywhere. i’ve heard that the twenty-three year old front desk receptionist is a cancer and honestly, i see it. they’re known for being stubborn & overbearing, but their kindhearted & selfless tendencies make up for it. they’ve been working at du lac for two years and i think that their real name is juliette ‘jules’ dewhitt, but don’t spill. ( hannah. 23. she/her. est )

HISTORY.

so juliette was born in paris to arthur dewhitt and and celeste boucher. they were a bit of a cliche, him being an up-and-coming author and her being the darling of french theater.

when they first got together, arthur told anyone that would listen that he fell in love with celeste while watching her on stage, before ever having said a word to her.

the issue with their grand love affair, though, was that it was exactly that- an affair. celeste was already married to another man. he was a prominent director and had oh so coincidentally been the one to cast her in her first breakthrough role. and though celeste wasn’t in love with him anymore, he was still utterly devoted to her.

with the baby on the way, arthur started putting pressure on celeste to leave her husband and be with him openly. but as much as celeste did love arthur, she loved her career more and she feared what the revelation of the affair would do to her chances to perform.

 she pushed him away, telling him that she loved her husband (she didn’t) and that she wanted to give her baby the best chance at happiness with a nuclear family (that hadn’t even come into her head until she said it out loud). 

arthur was heartbroken, but he respected her wishes.

years later, he ended up writing a novel that drew heavily from his own experiences with celeste. it was critically acclaimed- beloved by the critics, made into a movie, generally agreed that it would be one of the novels that defined the decade. 

unfortunately for celeste, there were enough details that mirrored their own lives that her husband finally caught wise. he confronted her and though she lied and denied as fervently as she could, he ended up leaving her and the daughter that he now knew wasn’t his. 

 without the income of her husband, and now getting too old to land the roles that once sustained her career, celeste ended up moving herself and juliette to a small town in france. 

she hated it there, having always been so used to the hustle and bustle of paris.

juliette would have been only 13 or 14 when this happened and to say that it was devastating would have been an understatement- within the span of a few weeks, she found out that her mother had cheated, that the man she had always considered her father wasn’t and that he no longer wanted anything to do with her, and then got moved away from everything that she knew.

she ended up getting a job as a bagger at the local grocery, riding her bike to and from work. 

her mother talked about getting one herself but never seemed all that pressed to actually start looking. instead, she focused on reliving her golden days and began drinking heavily. 

slowly, she devolved into a hateful and cold shell of her former self.she resented her daughter, thinking that it was because of her that the perfect life had unraveled around celeste.

jules learned to grow up very quickly after that. she cooked dinners, made sure that the bills were actually mailed out, always put a blanket on her mother when she passed out on the couch, and turned a cheek at the words spoken while still awake.

despite everything, jules is actually an incredibly positive and kind person. she realized very young that no amount of bitterness at her own plight would change things and that she wanted instead to focus on putting joy and kindness back into the world. 

she focused on creating healthy friendships and relationships, on her schoolwork, on anything that wasn’t her home life. 

she probably wouldn’t have told anyone about what she was dealing with at home, as she didn’t want people to worry about her. 

when it came time for university, jules decided to study hospitality. she was an incredibly detail-oriented person, and had learned over the years how to manage her own household. plus, it was a career that she thought her good nature would be suited to. 

it was hard to leave home, not knowing what state her mother would be in without her, but jules reasoned that she couldn’t hold back from having her own life forever. 

at school, jules really started to thrive. left to only care for herself, she started exploring every hobby that she could think of and learning everything about herself that she could. 

she even reached out to her birth father, who was thrilled to finally get to acknowledge his daughter. they’ve begun a tenuous relationship that they’re both very nervous but hopeful of. 

it was actually a suggestion of his that, as he hadn’t had the chance to support her while growing up, that he could get her a connection at the hotel du lac, where he regularly stayed when he wanted to write. 

she’s even started going by his last name! it’s really exciting for her. at first it was just because it would help with the job interview but it’s started to be something she does in her own head too.

she works at the front desk, and actually really likes it. basically her whole job is solving problems for people and staying friendly, both of which are right up her alley. also, she always loved visiting avignon while growing up and to have it as her codename is actually very charming to her

HEADCANONS.

she’s super afraid of heights. one time went to the top of the eiffel tower and nearly puked. hasn’t been up since

she loves oversized sweaters, soft blankets, fuzzy knee-high socks, basically anything cozy. would probably sit in front of a fireplace for a year if she had the time

laughs at her own jokes. sometimes literally can’t get through telling her own jokes because she’s laughing too hard

she has a really impressive book collection. growing up, she’s always loved the escapism of reading and ever since she got in touch with her father, he’s been sending her his own favorites. her favorite ones are the ones that he’s written his thoughts in the margins, a habit which she’s since picked up

she’s a total pushover. would do anything for anybody. honestly, to the point where it’s a character fault. it’s led to her being taken advantage of more than once in her life

hasn’t ever had a pet before but she would totally love to get a cat one day

doesn’t handle interpersonal conflict super well. like, she could get yelled at by a guest all day long without breaking a sweat but if someone that she cares about gets visibly upset with her she kind of freaks out and overextends herself trying to make things right again

loves knitting and baking when she’s stressed out. it’s nice for her to have something to do with her hands while her mind is racing and then at the end of it all, you’ve got a nice little treat for yourself!

has recently started keeping a little journal that she writes in. it’s partially to try and collect her own thoughts and get to know herself better and partially because she wants to have something shared between herself and her dad

WANTED PLOTS.

friends!!!!!!! avignon has never really had the chance to have close friends growing up because she never had the money/time, and she was afraid to get too close to people and have them realize the situation with her mom

her dad. this one will actually be a wanted connection, but i would love to have arthur (obviously that name isn’t set in stone lol) around and start to navigate their relationship actually being together for the first time

a love interest- avignon is very guarded about romance because she’s got deep abandonment stuff and also is afraid that she’s not good enough for it but like i can totally imagine her having these huge feelings for someone, either requited or unrequited that she doesn’t know how to handle and getting very blushy about it

a bad influence- she’s never really had the chance to let loose and have fun before, so i’d def like to see that happening. plus, she would probs start trying to like take care of them in return and make sure they drink water and the whole nine it would be very charming

irritant- tbh, she isn’t most peoples’ cup of tea. she’s very almost aggressive about her kindness and i can imagine that there are people that would absolutely hate that and they would just butt heads over it

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

The Easiest Difficulty - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Jon Kent Pairing: jondami Summary: It was a simple choice, for both of them. The simplest choice. Or really, it should have been. A/N: In the same AU as Long Time, No See (where Damian left vigilantism completely). This takes place over a few years, though is not every instance they share on the topic/life stresses (ie Jon’s doubts on being a hero etc) and by the end, Damian is 27/28 and Jon is 24/25. Sorry if this is weird/has plotholes. I just wanted some jondami fluff and shit. They both date other people but obviously not seriously. This is one of those 5x1 fics, but I’m bad at that format so not really haha.

~~

There were signs. Signs he chose to ignore but, in hindsight, probably should have used to escape instead. The girls at the front desk squealing with delight and chattering loudly. The office animals barking and meowing in greeting. Even Zooki, the cat he brought to the office with him every day, sat up, sniffed the air, and started purring.

Yeah, he shouldn’t have ignored those signs.

“Uh, D?” He glanced up towards the receptionist sticking her head in the door. Her smile was too bright, too excited. “You have a visitor.”

“Adopter?”

“Personal.”

“Let them in, I suppose.” He sighed, dropping his pen and leaning back in his chair. His family knows better than to bother him at work. And if they absolutely feel the need to, to call first. No surprise visits.

The receptionist nodded and disappeared, only to be replaced a moment later by a dark-haired man in dirty jeans and an ugly flannel shirt.

Damian’s frown deepened. And he couldn’t help but feel betrayed when his beloved Zooki rose from her perch to go greet their guest.

“…Jonathan.” He grumbled as he fixed his glasses, standing anyway.

“Hi.” Jon grinned, and suddenly produced a bouquet from behind his back. Roses of all different colors. “Happy Valentines Day.”

Ah. Now he understood why the front office was so giddy.

Still, Damian couldn’t help but smirk as he approached, and accepted the flowers. Zooki purred from between their feet.

“Cheater.” Damian mumbled, his nose dipped in the petals. “You can’t box me in with a romantic holiday.”

“I’m not trying to box you in.” Jon denied. “I’m just trying to ask you on a date.”

“And I gave you my stipulations.” Damian glanced up, keeping his face in the flowers. “Have you met them?”

Jon glanced down.

“…Jon?”

“Can’t you just like, put those off for now? For one date?” Jon mumbled, shuffling his foot. “Just so I can treat you for a few hours, for once?”

Damian sighed, and opened his mouth to respond, but Jon kept rambling.

“I mean, what if it goes horribly? What if it turns out our clearly mutual crushing was all for naught because we’re both terrible people and so we’ll never go out again? Then your stipulations won’t even be necessary!”

“Or, we could fall head over heels in love and be unable to live without each other. Then my stipulations would be very important.” Damian countered. “Trust me – I don’t like saying no to you like this. But it’s important to me, so I’d hope it’d mean something to you too.”

A pause.

“…So?”

“No.” Jon exhaled. “I haven’t met your stipulations.”

Damian clicked his tongue, and finally removed his face from the flowers. “Thank you for the gift, Jon. I truly do appreciate it.”

“…Can we at least get lunch while I’m here?”

Damian shook his head, turning away and returning to his chair. “I’m swamped with paperwork. Not to mention I need to start preparations for this weekend’s adoption event.”

“…Okay, no problem.” Jon gave him a smile, but Damian didn’t look at it, knowing it would be sad. “Call me when you’re free?”

“Only if you promise to call me if you are.” Damian returned. Jon gave a bitter laugh and turned away.

~~

Damian pulled at his bowtie. He hated these things. Hated the monkey suits, hated the guests. Hated how fake it made his family, and even himself.

He also hated the inevitable kerfuffle when a bad guy tried to crash the party.

And this night was no different. The only thing that was maybe a little strange was that he’d had enough champagne not to care all that much when a gun was shoved in his face, or when he was shoved into a chair next to Tim and threatened.

Hell, he and Tim even toasted, clinking their glasses together and gulping their drinks down as the criminals screamed for Bruce to pay for their lives.

It’d been a crummy week at Wayne Enterprises. A crummy week at the animal shelter. They were allowed to have this.

The plus side of getting out of the hero life – he could sit back and relax, not waste much energy attempting to save himself. And his brother was probably too tired at this point to even try. Finishing the booze in his hand was much more important than his life at this point.

Besides – they knew they didn’t have to try tonight anyway. Their Super counterparts were watching for this exact moment, and it wasn’t long before the ballroom was being invaded by red capes, and various poorly designed uniforms.

Honestly, a leather jacket? A hoodie? A skirt? And Clark’s was just ugly, no matter how many times he tweaked it.

Regardless of their aesthetics, they were good at their jobs, and quick. There was still champagne in Damian’s own glass when he felt Jon’s arms wrap protectively around him, and whisk him away to safety on a nearby roof.

“You’re safe now, Mr. Wayne.” Jon drawled, watching as his family landed around the city with the rest of Damian’s family.

“Oh, gee.” Damian returned, just as sarcastically, downing the rest of his drink. He saw one of his would-be captors try to escape through a balcony door, and threw the empty glass at him with a well-aimed shot, shattering it along his temple. “How could I ever repay you?”

Jon laughed. “Well, you know, a kiss would be nice. That’s what a lot of the middle-aged women we rescue offer. Even to Kara.” He smirked, stepping closer. “And that’s a payment I’ll gladly accept from you.”

Damian stared incredulously up at him. “Sorry, I’m not a middle-aged woman.” He drawled, then gave a smirk of his own. “And I’m more into farmers’ sons anyway.”

“Oh, come on-”

“And only farmers’ sons.” He backed up a step, holding his arms wide while looking around. “And unfortunately, all I see around here are superheroes, so. Guess I’ll keep my kisses to myself.”

“You’re the worst.” Jon whined with an annoyed chuckle.

“From where I’m standing?” Damian said softly. He glanced over the building, watched the cop cars start to arrive. He turned back just to watch Jon take to the sky. “That title is yours.”

~~

“I can’t believe it.” The old man said. One Mr. Sanchez, a twenty-four-year veteran of the Wayne Enterprises board of trustees. Damian was here with him because of the almost-kidnapping event at the gala a few months prior – his father was having a press conference today to talk about security, his family’s safety and how they’re coping, blah blah blah. The usual. Anyway, in Damian’s completely objective opinion - Sanchez’s mind was starting to go. “I can’t believe I know someone who has a superhero interested in him.”

Tim snorted into his water down the table.

“Trust me.” Damian sighed, keeping his voice even. He glanced fiercely at his brother. “It’s not all that uncommon.”

“I suppose.” Sanchez said. “But still! It must be exciting! Especially because it was a Super, no less!”

“There is nothing between the youngest Super-whatever and myself.” Damian droned boredly. “Regardless of what you and the idiot public think you see in that picture.”

“I don’t know, Mr. Wayne. This kind of chemistry is impossible to fake.” Sanchez said, holding up the newspaper in question. Above the fold, splashed across the page – Jon and Damian talking on the roof after Jon had rescued him from that party. Because, of course there weren’t any better or more relevant photographs of the event, right? “And in any case, it’s quite clear that Superboy is very smitten with you, regardless of what you claim. There are rumours about him, and even his heroics. The biggest one being he is only ever seen in Gotham on the rare occasion you are in town.”

“For one, he doesn’t go by Boy anymore, the whole world knows that. For two, I will tell you the same thing I told the reporter who emailed me about this drivel of an article.” Damian sighed, watching Dick come over to Tim, who was having a silent laughing fit behind his hand. He clearly asked Tim what was so funny, and Tim openly told him. Dick’s eyes shone in amusement as he looked up at Damian himself. Damian hated him. “I have no interest in my rescuer whatsoever, nor any superhero otherwise. Whom I’m romantically interested in is none of the public’s business, and I’d appreciate the courtesy of privacy.”

“Fair enough. You are a private citizen and wish to remain so. That’s why you left the limelight of Wayne Enterprises, I know, I know.” Sanchez waved off. “But, may I ask?”

Damian glanced at him.

“Why no superheroes?” Sanchez asked. “What turns you off to them? Even my mother said she’d leave her husband of fifty-seven years for the likes of Batman or Black Canary.”

“Because that’s not a world I want to be a part of. I had enough of all that Batman and Robin stuff growing up here. That’s part of why I left Gotham. Superheroes are nothing but trouble.” Damian explained. Then quieter, mumbled, “And what if they go out and don’t come home? What if they die in the field? Just because they’re heroes doesn’t mean they’re immortal. Doesn’t mean they can’t come back hurt and broken. And would you like to see that happen to someone you claim to love on a potentially daily basis?”

Sanchez didn’t answer that. He quickly dropped his gaze to the floor.

“And I, for one, have had enough loss and trauma in my life. So I’ll take a hard pass on a traumatic love life too, thank you.” Damian concluded. He let there be a pause of silence, then hummed, shaking his head as turned to the door to leave. “No, I’ll take the likes of…I don’t know, a poor farmer from Kansas over a superhero any day.”

~~

The only warning he got was all of his animals twitching their ears and turning towards the front door at the same time.

He glanced up from his papers as he came out of his office. “Wha-”

And that was all he could say before the door flew open, practically knocked off its hinges, and he was thrown back against the stairs by the weight of a body stumbling forward and falling on top of him.

“What…” Damian blinked, watching the papers he’d been holding float around them like giant snowflakes. His focus was slow in his surprise, but eventually his vision evened out, and he recognized the body on top of him as none other than: “Jon?!”

Jon grinned, sloppy and giddy. His eyes were blurry and his cheeks were red. He was in his farm work clothes – an old t-shirt, holey jeans and muddy boots.

“…Hi.” Jon hummed, making no move to get off of him. In fact, he did the complete opposite. Seemed to settle his weight against Damian as he reached up and gently ran his fingers over Damian’s face, along the arm of his blue glasses, glossy eyes darting across his features. “…You know, you look way better in glasses than I ever did.”

“…Jon?” Damian whispered, feeling his own face heat up, just a little. “Are you okay?”

“Peachy.” Jon nodded awkwardly. “You know, Pop won’t let me grow peaches. I think it’s ‘cause we don’t live in Georgia.”

“What? What are you talking about?” And no sooner was the question out of his mouth, the stench hit his nose. The smell of smoke, of greasy food, of too much beer. “Jon, are you-”

Jon’s eyelids fluttered, and he sighed happily as he pulled Damian’s glasses away from his face, in what he probably thought was a seductive move.

…Oh god, he was drunk.

“Jonathan.” Damian scolded.

“You’re pretty.” Jon countered, closing his eyes as he swayed back and forth a little bit. “Did you know that?”

“Jon, how much did you have to drink tonight?” Damian demanded. He put his hands on Jon’s chest, not so much to push him off, just to steady them both against the sharp corners of the steps. He glanced out the destroyed front door, and frowned. “Oh my god, Jon, did you fly here?!”

“I’ll fly to the moon.” Jon slurred, leaning in to brush his nose against Damian’s skin. And as much as he didn’t want it to, Damian felt his heart hammer in his chest, as Jon fell into a ridiculous rendition of Frank Sinatra. “Come fly with me, come fly, oh, let’s fly away…”

“Jon.” Damian tried. “Come on, you need to sleep this off.”

Jon didn’t break his song, just pressed his lips to Damian’s jaw, fingers curling into his hair.

“Who were you out drinking with? Do they know you’re here?” Damian pushed, but even he knew in his soul it was half-hearted. “I’ll need to call your parents…”

Jon stopped singing then, and just turned the tune into a hum as he brought his other hand up to hold Damian’s cheek. He opened his eyes now, and stared at him in a hazy bliss.

Damian gulped, and hated himself when he felt his fingers twitch tighter into Jon’s shirt.

“Jon…”

And Jon kissed him.

And Damian should have pushed him off. Jon was drunk, his stairs were digging into his back, the animals were making a racket and probably escaping, and his stipulations –

But god, Jon tasted so good.

So he indulged. Felt guilt and shame running all through his system, but goddamn, he indulged. Just for a second. For a few seconds.

Because of course, this was all he wanted. All he’d ever wanted. All Jon ever wanted too. And it’d be so easy…

But no. Because he was out. He was out and he refused to be dragged back in, or involved in any way past what his family forced him to be.

Even for his potential – total, absolute – soul mate.

So, sadly, when Jon pulled back for air, Damian turned his face away before Jon could dive back in. Put his hand against Jon’s mouth, and pushed him back as gently as he could.

“You’re drunk.” He sighed. Jon gave a little whine behind his fingers, but moved back as Damian sat up. “Come on, Jon. Let’s get you into the guest room.”

Jon outright groaned as Damian stood and pulled him to his feet by his hands, grabbed his glasses from where Jon had tossed them, and dragged him carefully up the stairs, into – what he believed was – the wrong bedroom.

~~

“Just like old times.” Jon smirked, throwing blankets towards the bed. Damian snatched them out of the air, rolling his eyes. “All those old sleepovers we had, like when our dads were working cases and stuff.”

He grabbed a few pillows from the shelf, then stepped over to Damian, very obviously standing purposefully in his personal space. Damian kept his scowl.

“I won’t make you sleep on the floor this time, though.”

“I’m not taking your bed, Jon. We’re adults, I can survive a few nights on the floor.” Damian mumbled. “Though frankly, the sooner this case of Grayson’s is over, the happier I’ll be.”

“Well, of course I agree. The sooner Dick and Dad find whoever’s threatening you and your dad, the happier I’ll be too.” Jon snorted. “And no, you’re not taking my bed. We’re sharing.”

Damian felt heat in his face. “Jon…”

“The bed’s big enough.” Jon grinned. “And like you just said – we’re adults, Damian. It’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know what you’re implying, but I won’t have a problem.” Damian spun away from him, unfolding the blankets and laying them out. “If there’s anything to worry about, it’s you and your…your crush.”

It was mean, borderline cruel. But it was the only way he could protect himself too.

Jon just laughed, though, and as soon as Damian had the blankets settled, flopped onto the bed.

“You wish it was just a crush.” He giggled. Damian let his frown deepen.

“No, I wish you would move on.” Damian scolded. He began to set up the pillows, began debating putting one between them as a barrier – just in case. “I wish you’d let yourself be happy instead of chasing lost causes.”

“I am happy. And I’m not chasing a lost cause.” Jon countered. “Even if we’re not together-together like we – I – may want to be, you’re still my best friend. You still make me happy.”

Damian pursed his lips, and kept his gaze on his task.

“Hey.” Jon suddenly took hold of his wrist, squeezing gently. “Don’t feel guilty about it, okay? I get it. I totally get it. You’re not being selfish, or greedy or anything. You got out, Damian. You got out of the mask, you have a life, you’re happy and safe and stable. You’re taking care of yourself. And you deserve that.”

“…I’m sorry I can’t be like your mother.” Damian murmured, still refusing to look. “I’m sorry I can’t…toe that line like she does. Or be able to have two completely separate lives like Grayson or Drake do.”

“Don’t apologize.” Jon repeated. “I’m glad you don’t. That means I don’t have to worry about you being out there getting hurt. Times like right now excluded, anyway.”

Damian closed his eyes. Jon gave his wrist another squeeze.

“And you’re not hurting me with your choice either.” He whispered. “I understand the ultimatum, I do. And I respect that.” He paused, and Damian felt him look out the window. “You don’t owe me anything, Damian. You don’t owe anyone anything. Not me, not your family, not the world. You always tell me to take care of myself; maybe you should listen to your own advice.”

“Love is about compromise.” Damian countered softly. “And I haven’t made any.”

“Neither have I.” Jon agreed. “In fact, if anything I should be apologizing to you. You gave me a simple choice, and I keep making the wrong one every day.”

“No you don’t.” Damian shook his head, opened his eyes, glanced at the other. “The world needs a Superman.”

“Yeah, and it has like four or five, even without me.” Jon laughed. “Honestly, I’m totally expendable. Which probably makes what I’m doing to you even worse.”

“You are not…!” Damian almost shouted. He stopped himself, though, and instead just pulled his hand from Jon’s. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m tired.”

“Same.” Jon allowed. He patted the bed next to him. Damian silently crawled in next to him, lying as close to the wall as he could. He waited a moment, knew Jon was watching him, then decided to put that pillow between them.

Jon snorted when he did so, and immediately tossed it to the floor. He scooted closer, hooking his chin over Damian’s head as he flopped his arm loosely around his waist.

“You’re here so I can protect you, remember.” He mumbled, like it was actually a valid explanation. Damian sighed, but didn’t shove him off. Didn’t make any move to return any affections, either. They laid in the silence for a moment, listening to the bugs chirp into the Kansas night. “…You’re always going to wait for me, aren’t you.”

“Always.” Damian promised quietly. “Unfortunately.” He added bitterly after. Another second, then: “And I guess I don’t have to ask you the same.”

Jon didn’t answer. Damian fell asleep.

~~

He was just finishing watering the plants on his back porch when the sun began to rise over the tree line. He’d found he enjoyed gardening in his new life, specifically early morning or late night gardening. When the neighborhood children were asleep or inside, and cars weren’t coming and going. When there was utter silence and peacefulness. Just him and his thoughts, and sometimes, if they were awake themselves, his animals.

The water in the can ran out, and he placed it on the porch railing next to his pot of blooming zinnias. He gave a contented sigh as he reached for his mug of steaming coffee, holding it in both hands as he took a long sip, and paused to watch the sky light up in deep oranges and pinks.

Then – his house gave a slight shake, and he could hear things inside falling off shelves.

He turned back towards the house, setting his coffee back on the table as the animals inside began to stir and bark in alarm. When he got in, he watched his pets all rush to the front window, staring anxiously at something in the front yard. Damian frowned and followed the mob, but instead of looking out the window, he moved to the front door and opened it, facing whatever threat it might have been head on, like he always had.

But it was no threat.

Standing in the center of a small crater localized to his front yard, stood a man in a red and blue hooded sweatshirt, torn, dirty and open, exposing a bloody and disgusting white shirt underneath. His ripped jeans had even more holes in it, and he was missing his shoes.

Next to him was a duffle bag.

“…Jon?” Damian called carefully, stepping outside and closing the door before any of the dogs could follow. Jon glanced up at him with tired, sad, hollow eyes. “Jon, are you alright?”

“You were right.” Jon croaked as Damian approached him. “You were always right.”

“About what?” Damian reached up, and gently ran his thumb over the giant bruise on Jon’s face. “God, Jon – what happened?!”

“I should have listened to you years ago. I should have agreed to your stipulations. Then we could have been happy and safe and a family and…”

“Jonathan.” Damian tried again, dropping his hand to Jon’s chest. He could feel the blood still seeping, feeling injuries that Jon absolutely should not have. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want it.” Tears welled up in Jon’s eyes. Overflowed immediately. “Damian, I don’t want to be Superman.”

Damian’s eyes widened, and he felt his heart maybe stop.

“I lost. Again. People died today, and it was my fault, Damian. I wasn’t good enough. My powers shorted out. I was…I was only a fucking human.” Jon wailed. “I don’t want it to happen again. I…I can’t let it happen again. But it was…I…” His shoulders slumped. “I’m so tired, Damian. I don’t know how Dad does it. I…”

He swayed on his feet a little bit, and Damian immediately reached out for his arms. His tears twinkled in the rising sun.

“I can’t be Superman. I don’t want to be. You were right. You were always right. I should have gotten out when you did. I should have given up this stupid symbol and helped people on the ground, like you do.” Jon repeated. His lip trembled. “I don’t want to be Superman, Damian.”

“Then don’t be.” Damian whispered.

“I just…I want…” He let out a tiny sob. “I don’t even want to be the Son of Superman anymore. I just…” Another louder cry. “I just want to be Jon.”

And Damian couldn’t help but smile, as he gently began to push that sweatshirt from Jon’s shoulders. “You are.”

“I just…” Jon repeated. He suddenly glanced down at his bag. Damian did too, saw the zipper wasn’t completely closed. Inside, he could see clothes and books and pictures. Jon’s whole life, more or less. He looked back up at Jon, and Jon was staring desperately at him. He was serious about this. “I just want to be yours.”

Damian couldn’t help but grin even wider. There was no more Superboy. There was no more budding Superman. There were no more nights laying up in worry that he would die, that they’d be separated forever. No more days feeling guilty or selfish, because he was making him choose. No more ultimatum between him and the cape.

There was just his love. There was just his soul mate, Jonathan Samuel Kent.

“Beloved, you always have been.” Damian breathed, bringing his hands up to carefully hold Jon’s face, and kiss him as sweetly as he could. As sweetly as he’d always wanted to.

Jon all but collapsed into his arms, clinging as tightly as he could, and Damian relished in the feeling. Even when their lips broke apart, Damian didn’t let him go. Kept a protective arm around his waist as he leaned down and picked up his bag for him.

He kicked the ruined hoodie into the dirt of his front garden, making a mental note to gleefully burn the thing later. (With Jon’s permission, of course.)

“I’ll need to find a job.” Jon murmured. “And I…I don’t know how to cook. Or understand banking accounts. And I’ll pay rent, and I’ll…”

“Shhh.” Damian breathed. “Later, Jonathan. One thing at a time.”

When they attempted to step forward, Jon immediately stumbled, and half collapsed further into Damian’s side. Jon couldn’t walk, his leg was clearly too injured. And that was fine. Damian merely flipped Jon’s bag over his shoulder, and slip his arm under Jon’s knees. Jon immediately curled into his chest, arms around his neck.

“May I show you to our bedroom?” Damian asked gently, as Jon desperately dug his nails in Damian’s back. “You look like you could use a nice long nap.”

And finally, he caught a smile on Jon’s lips, and relief in his voice. “Yes, please.”

Damian carried him to the door, balancing on one leg to kick open the knob, then walked across the threshold with him. The animals all began sniffing at the new arrival, but Damian paid them no mind, immediately moving towards the stairs, towards the bedroom.

Their bedroom.

“Welcome home, Jon.” Damian whispered into his hair.

Jon, still crying, let out a tiny laugh. “I’m so happy to finally be here, Damian.”

[peacockbluey]

Thoughts on Flowers, Series 2, Episode 3

Lots of things happening. Lots of things full of feels and terror and what can only be summarized as !!!!!!!!!! Do I have thoughts about it? Of course I do! Here we go.

Right from the very beginning, the tone set is an ominous one. The opening for this episode is something straight out of Amy's morbid, tragic romantic inclinations, with Amy flipping between two realities, walking out into the water. It's imagery that calls to mind Virginia Woolf's death by drowning, which is exactly the sort of allusion Amy would dig--but it also suggests how quickly she's becoming immersed in full-blown mania.

Donald's dream is at once pure Donald (who else would have a wet dream nightmare?), and yet also really interesting character insight that illuminates him a little more. It says a lot about how Donald sees himself, to imagine himself as a clown, wanking, hideously obvious and grotesque in his desire, being jeered at and laughed at by everyone he knows--including, significantly, Matilda. It's his worst nightmare: that everybody thinks he's a joke, that his desire is ridiculous, that he's making a fool of himself by even feeling it. But beyond all of that, the part that really strikes me is that the dream opens with him searching for Amy, trying to rescue her from... something. It really shows you how deeply that's ingrained in Donald, the desire to protect and defend Amy. This is his job, his duty, he has to look out for Amy; he always has... even if he can't stop being a dick to her, or being rabidly envious of her.

I love that Amy's nickname for Hylda is Monkey, but everything else about the berries scene is hard to watch, because Amy's mania is really, really escalating. It's shown throughout the episode, from the increasingly nonsensical, disorganized structure of the music (which her orchestra can't even play because they have no clue what she wants) to the lack of sleep to the pressured speech and temper tantrums because she's constantly accelerating and getting mad at the world for not being at the speed of sound with her. Her eye, naturally, is fucked up now with... pinkeye or something similarly awful, to make her more like Bertha than ever. Her ability to distinguish between herself and Bertha is diminishing.

Deborah knows. Just from the sound of the voicemail Any leaves her, you can see from her face that she knows something is seriously wrong. (Olivia Colman, seriously. She is so, so great.) She is thoroughly frustrated throughout the episode in trying to get through to Amy or get someone to check on her (THANKS MAURICE), but the worry is there.

A parallel between Series 1 and Series 2: proxy squabbling between Maurice and Deborah over inappropriately sized food. In series 1, it was Deborah snarking about Maurice's weirdly giant hospital coffee ("Enjoy your reservoir of coffee!"); in series 2, their roles are reversed and it's Maurice sniping about the size of Shun's breakfast pastry when he really is spoiling for a fight about all the other issues between him and Deborah.

Seriously, though, I was not prepared for them to have a ridiculous custody dispute over Shun! It clearly irritates Maurice that Shun sought comfort and understanding from Deborah instead of him, but it shouldn't; Deborah and Shun had reached a nice understanding at the end of series 2, and this is consistent with that. Shun needs somebody to be a mother to him and Deborah desperately misses having somebody to nurture, while she's struggling to connect with her children as adults; it makes sense that they'd connect that way. It's also notable that Shun is well over his hero worship of Maurice, not above sassing and calling him on his bullshit. While it's good for Shun to see Maurice realistically... his overall trajectory in terms of acting out is worrying.

It's also kind of fascinating to see different sides of everybody in that fight. It's definitely fascinating to be exploring some of Maurice's flaws, now that he's more himself. I love him, but his argument style here! Self-pitying, bitter, passive-aggressive, petty... these are parts of him, just as much as all the good things. It's also a sign of how much he's recovered that he has the ego to be wounded over being called "boring." When he was deep in his depression, he probably would have just absorbed that with a shrug. Now, he has the pettiness to spend the rest of the episode trying to spite Deborah by proving how wrong she is. He is not boring! He's a cool dude! A cool dude who wears sunglasses! And tiny blue pants. It's good for our ogling pleasure, but it's also super cringey. Being truthful, I was definitely annoyed by him being so self-absorbed by the ego wounding that he seems mostly oblivious to how bad Amy is getting.

Another parallel between Series 1 and Series 2: Donald being the voice of reason and the only one who can/will call Maurice on his shit. His blunt honesty can be unlikable and occasionally cruel, but sometimes it's exactly what's needed. In Series 1, he was able to deliver the (metaphorical) slap Maurice needed to realize the impact his behavior was having on everybody else. Here, he rightfully calls Maurice out for behaving like a huuuuuuuuge asshole in his phone conversation with Deborah, pointing out that if Maurice really loves her and wants her back, treating her that way definitely doesn't show it. Donald's ideas about how to treat the person you love are surprisingly good and emotionally healthy. (Too bad he doesn't know how to actually express any of his feelings as anything other than anger and annoyance!) He's also almost painfully transparent here when he talks about wanting a person who will love him most in the whole world. Oh, Donald. He's so obnoxious, but he's so, so desperate to come first for once, to be somebody's first choice. To feel special, because he secretly thinks he's the only one who isn't. Matilda... could actually be that person, as she seems able to seem to look past most of the tactlessness and awkwardness to the person inside. But only if Donald doesn't fuck it up.

On one level, it makes sense for Amy to draw inspiration from the Baumgartner book and have the whole orchestra in 18th century dress, but it also just highlights the degree to which her fantasies are bleeding into reality and she's increasingly failing to distinguish between the two.

DEBORAH. Her phone conversation with Donald broke my heart! She is so miserable and lonely, and she misses her family so much. You can just see her longing for connection, relishing the little bits of it, warming up to open up and talk longer... but then Donald's got a date, he has to go, and it's just crushingly sad. On the one hand, it's good that her kids are more independent, and she knows that, but... she misses them. She misses being important to them. She doesn't quite know how to relate to them now and is feeling very left behind.

AMY'S FIGHT WITH HYLDA, oh my god. It hurts, it's so painful, because Hylda can clearly see something going very wrong; she has the life experience to recognize these things when she sees them. And she loves Amy and wants her to be okay, but Amy is not having it, and she says some terribly cruel things here, because she can be. (As Cully observed, she clearly inherited her argument style from Maurice.) But Hylda's single shout ("I NEED TO BREATHE!") hits me harder than anything else, because Hylda is ordinarily defined by her calmness. The thing about Hylda is that that calm, her stillness, is so powerful because it is *intentional*. It is a choice. It's not naturally occurring; she has worked damned hard to get here, and it is a practice. So seeing that slip, a flash of the intensity beneath, of HOW hard she works to contain it... it's electrifying. Excruciating. Her outburst here is a reminder that, more than anything, Hylda does the work. Addiction doesn't ever, ever go away; her recovery and present contentment and peace are built on the fact that she is always, always working. Which leads to my next point.

Deborah's book signing is horrible and uncomfortable in many different ways, but obviously the most important one is the woman who confronts her about how Deborah doesn't get to tell her how to feel about depression or her late husband's experience with it, how there is no magic cure or correct method to solve the problem. It doesn't ever go away, mental illness; it can only be managed. Hylda is a success story, but her success is possible because she's made a religion of that discipline. (Not even a little surprising, really, that she was drawn to actual religion, as an extension of the discipline and ruthless self-examination.) It's a brutal, unromantic truth, and you see the way it hits Deborah like a ton of bricks.

BARRY SERIOUSLY WHY WOULD YOU GIVE AMY A BABY. This is SO STRESSFUL, god.

Spare thought: remember that in the last series, Amy could barely ride a regular bike. She had training wheels! And now she's zipping around on a motorbike. It's a clear symbol of her progress... but also of the fact that she needs to go faster faster faster and is rapidly getting to a place where that's dangerous. ESPECIALLY WITH A BABY OH MY GOD.

[taiweiland-blog]

Oh My General episode 17 recap

Sorry for the long wait, guys! But it’s Nanowrimo month and all my energy is poured into my novel, which is the third book of my sci-fi series. I’m pretty psyched that it’s at 40,000, which is roughly about 60-70% of my projected word count (I believe it’ll be a 70,000 word novel.) But enough about that. Let’s get on with the Yu jin, Xi Yin and Ye Zhao love triangle now.

Ye Zhao orders her right hand woman to prevent Jin from fraternising with women. (Even she finds it too severe but she theorises that it’s because the general doesn’t want her hubby to find another wife. Bwahaha.)

Meanwhile Yu jin is still mighty perplexed about the doctor’s diagnosis. He totally doesn’t buy the doctor’s diagnosis. How can he fall sick just like that?

Just then, Liu the scholar comes for a visit. Liu slyly asks for a way to see Xi Yin (he was that scholar who burst into poetry when he saw her last) and Jin introduces him to her. Well, they see her perched on a rock, and of course Liu is taken with her beauty. (I find it hilarious how a convenient gust of wind often arrives at times like these or when our main couple has some sexy times!)

YZ’s right hand woman visits Hu Li in his pleasant abode in the forest and tells him about Jin’s mysterious illness. Hu Lin’s “this is suspicious” radar goes up. Both are perplexed by how his fainting spell came out of nowhere. He begins asking her about Xi Yin. Hu Li, you’re one smart cookie. He asks her if XY she’s capable of anything untowards to Jin. She immediately catches on and says, “Do you think she has anything to do with Jin’s illness?”

Hu Li is worried that if this goes on any further, YZ would be affected in some way. They hurriedly go off to see Jin. Scholar Liu and XY walk around her residence. They talk about his ambitions to serve the emperor, Liu is impressed with her intelligence. Bored now. He’s obviously into her, but boy, you are SO not on her radar, babe.

Meanwhile, YZ is trying to pamper our obviously bored-to-death and frustrated Yu Jin. He kicks up a snit when she mentions her cousin, saying that’s all you talk about. Cousin, cousin, cousin! YZ laments that she still hasn’t been able to find a husband for her yet. Jin scoffs at her concern, and mentions that Liu is with her now but YZ doesn’t think he’s suitable for her at all. Poor Liu, he gets no love.

Hu Li visits, but Jin actually tells his manservant to chase him away. He allows him to come in, though Jin cattily says, “If you’ve come to visit me, why haven’t you bought gifts?” Someone’s jealous haha.

Hu Li immediately notices the bouquet of flowers beside Jin and XY says that XY is an expert with herbs and flowers. He thinks to himself: “This rare flower is used by the rich who have insomnia. They place these flowers at their bedsides and the fragrance of the flowers will ‘lead them into a dream’. However, the leaves and shoots of the plant all have mild toxins, so if it’s inhaled into the body, it could make a person sleep or even render them unconscious.”

He asks Jin if he realises what these flowers can do. Jin doesn’t, and Hu li tells him that do help a person rest. Jin remarks, “No wonder I slept so well the last few days!”

YZ carrying a cup of tea, says, “Yes, you slept so well that you became unconscious!”

Hu Li advices them to remove the flowers, lest Jin gets too dependent on them and ends up with insomnia.

Outside, HL is definitely suspicious now. He investigates the situation further.

Back at casa XY, Liu remarks that she seemed troubled. Liu gallantly offers to solve her problem, but she says that her problem is larger than his any day. Jin comes invites him out to eat and they excuse themselves.

Night time. YZ visits cousin who gives her a dance performance. As she danced, I can’t help but remember the sad story (as told in the previous episode) of how XY loves to dance but she isn’t allowed to because she’s a high born lady. (High born ladies don’t dance like courtesans, I suppose.) They then play a childhood game together. I’m not sure what XY is trying to achieve? Seduce YZ? Anyway, YZ is merely impressed with her skills and promptly discusses her marital prospects, which doesn’t make XY happy.

Jin is finally freed from house arrest and he’s revelling in it! He’s out and about in the city with YZ and his cousin when ladies flock around … YZ and giggling, asks how many people she’s killed. Jin, unused to not being the centre of attention, I suppose, says something snippy to the ladies and marches off in a huff.

One of Jin’s friends call out to him and they hang out until he sees XY. His friend tries to persuade Jin to introduce him to XY, but Jin’s not doing it. So, he brushes him aside and goes to her. Just then, XY discreetly releases some kind of dart from her ring. Jin topples into the water and XY pretends to dive in after him. When they’re in the water, XY hits Jin unconscious.

YZ pulls them out. Jin is unconscious while XY’s maid said that her reputation is now ruined - how can she marry now? (I say let her marry a goat herder for all I care!)

Jin is mad at his friend, whom he’s pretty convinced pushed him into the water. Fortunately, nothing happened, said Jin, or I’ll never forgive you. The manservant carries Jin back.

YZ brings medicine to Jin only to get the shock of her life when she sees him all wrapped up like a mummy. Jin is mad and petulant and complains that she’s not paying attention to him or taking care of him. She asks: Where does he hurt, and he, of course uses the opportunity to demand kisses.

He asks: “How is that woman?” Yet, he says later that XY is a good person for diving into the water after him.

YZ sadly says that because so many people saw her fall into the water, her reputation is affected. (How, really? Ancient China is so unfair.) Jin says they just have to give her a big dowry and people won’t turn her down.

That’s when YZ notices that he has a bruise at his neck (that’s where XY hit him) and remarks that cousin is sure remarkably strong. YZ asks where else does he hurt? He points to his knee and she notices another bruise, and says to herself: “This seems to have been made by a hidden weapon of some sort.” This puzzles her greatly.

YZ sees XY lamenting to her maid about her shredded reputation. How can I go on now? She laments. What can I do?

I don’t know. Leave? Bah.

Summary:

So our frail, delicate dove is actually a bitter, venomous viper. Not only was she behind Jin’s fainting spell, she tried to drown him! Her obsession with YZ knows no bounds, and it would seem that she wants Jin out. Like, you know, from the mortal realm. But now she has a new angle, and I’m not liking it much. Dear YZ remains oblivious to XY’s machinations, but she’s starting to suspect something, thank goodness. 

Apparently XY is a fan favourite, and that totally perplexes me. Is it because she hides her inner strength under a veneer of beauty and frailty? I have a word for that: deceitful.

By the way, I forsee difficulties in recapping episode 20 onwards because it’s all about the politics, baby, and our main couple is actually relegated to side character roles in some episodes! Why, dear writer, why? I’m not a fan of detail recapping these things (the court language! Gah) - especially since our couple plays such a small role. So I’m only going to do quick recaps for those.

[sceawere]

all over again | michael gray

anon request: “an imagine where you’re married to Michael when he was Henry, when Tommy comes to talk about polly he's invited into your house and you meet, and finally you meet the family. And everyone makes jokes about the 'country bumpkins' and how he met a good looking girl etc.”

“Oh, Henry, I have mud on my face” you whispered to him, leaning away from the suited man before you. He obviously still heard you by the smile that broke out on his face.

“Don’t worry about that. You’ll see much worse in Birmingham” the stranger laughed.

You dragged your eyes from Henry, looking properly at the man for the first time as he placed a cigarette between his lips. You’d been working the vegetable patch your mother-in-law had helped you plant when Henry had walked up with a stranger in tow.

“What’s he talking about?”

“He…says my mother wants to meet me. My real mother”

Your worry about looking messy in front of a well-dressed stranger flew out the window and you couldn’t do much but blink and make odd noises as your tried to form something coherent to say.

“And does the mother you have now know about this?”

Henry licked the edge of his lip, eye trailing away from you to trace over the field behind.

“She slap him?” you added.

“Only a few times” the stranger interjected and you shot him a look, not sure whether to trust him yet. You fidgeted for a few moments, taking Henry’s arm between yours and hooking them together.

“What are you going to do?”

He kept staring out, moving his eyes in sections, until he met your gaze.

“What do you think I should do?”

“I think…you always said you needed to know one day. That you had a million questions. If you don’t try, you’ll never forgive yourself. I know you, Henry”

“Michael”

You frowned at his response, quizzing him with your eyes.

“He says my name’s Michael”

-

You placed the cups down carefully but they still clinked lightly in the silence of the room.

“Lovely place you have here”

You smiled lightly as you sat down, dragging your own cup towards you.

“It’s my aunts. We can’t afford a place of our own yet and she needed someone to watch it while she’s in America, so…” you trailed off, suddenly feeling very small in your own kitchen. The stranger didn’t fit, like a piece from a different jigsaw, the pattern clashing with the rest of the image.

“You’re playing Happy Families” his tone wasn’t teasing, appreciative maybe. Like when a child says something cute. You nodded over your tea, flicking your eyes over to Henry, hoping for him to think of something real to say that wasn’t awkward chatter.

“Who are you? Really? You’re not from the council”

“No. I’m not from the council. I’m Thomas Shelby” he cleared his throat “I’m your cousin. Polly, your mother, is my aunt”

You shuffled back in your chair, biting at the edge of your nail, eyes flicking between the two men as they tried to work the other out.

“How” you stalled for a moment, not sure of which question you wanted to start with “how did you find us? If you didn’t have his name?”

“I had his real name. I found his adoption records” he motioned with his hand “followed the trail here”

“His real-“you let out a breath, tone turning bitter “his name’s Henry Johnson. I married Henry Johnson. Don’t tell me I married someone who doesn’t exist”

Henry broke from his trance, drawing you to him with your name. You shrugged at him, feeling more annoyed than nervous now.

“He can’t just walk in and erase your life. You’ve been Henry longer than you were-“you threw yourself back in your chair, rubbing your lips with your fingers “if either is your ‘real’ life surely it’s the one we have here, hmm?”

“It’s never been real here, though, has it? I’ve always been not quite real”

You scoffed, turning your head to Tommy.

“He gets restless, is all. He gets like this sometimes”

“I don’t mean to suggest anything-“Tommy started but Henry interjected.

“She gets like this sometimes” you rolled your eyes at your husband’s using your words back at you “she worries about everything being perfect”

“God forbid I try to make things nice”

“You delayed the wedding three months so we could have the right colour flowers, you’re neurotic”

“Excuse you, I am a person who enjoys beauty and I will not be scorned for that. You walked into this freely” you lifted your cup, pulling it back at the last second to add “and enthusiastically”

Tommy took a sip of his own tea, smirking at the both of you sniping at each other playfully.

Henry shook his head, turning back to Tommy. He paused, collecting his thoughts.

“Polly will enjoy you” Tommy filled the silence as he settled his cup back down, meeting your eyes. You swallowed, the thought of having a new mother-in-law hitting you. Oh God, what if she was terrible? What if she hated you?

“I want to meet her”

You swung your head over to Henry as he spoke. He lifted his hand to move across the table and you tucked your palm into his. He checked the look in your eyes and you nodded to him. He turned his head to Tommy, speaking more resolutely this time.

“We want to meet my mother”

-

“What are you doing?”

You kept your eyes to the wall, covering it in long strokes.

“Painting”

“What is that?”

You felt Henry – or rather, Michael, walk up behind you. It was taking a while to get used to that. He’d decided it was best to go to Birmingham alone, at least the first time, to lighten to load on his mother and let them have some time together. He’d rang you the next morning, his voice making it clear that he’d made a decision.

If you knew anything about your husband it was that once he set his heart on something, he got it. You wouldn’t be together if he didn’t. It was something you truly loved about him – when he promised you something, you knew it was going to happen. You were starting to doubt that though. Nearly a month in Birmingham and the fresh new start felt more like an epilogue.

He bent over your shoulder to look in the pot and you tilted it to show him the contents.

“Moss water” you answered in a tone of voice that showed it should be obvious.

“Moss?”

“Yes”

“Why the hell are you painting the garden wall in moss?”

“Because every time I look at these grey bricks, I feel more and more like I’m in a prison yard” you motioned around you from where you were knelt on the cobbles “so I’m covering it in moss and when it grows, I’ll be surrounded by green again. Since I can’t plant anything in this bloody stone”

You went back to your work and he sighed at your irritated tone, dropping to squat beside you.

“I know you’re struggling here”

“I’m not” you tried to keep your tone light, concentrate on the movement of the bristles, avoid his gaze.

He paused for a few moments, trailing his eyes over your profile as you concentrated on your work.

“You’re not getting any better at lying”

“You are” you dropped the brush to the pot again, coating the bristles in the mixture. After a few seconds you gave up and sloshed the dregs at the last dry spot on the wall. It took you a few extra moments to rise from your sore knees “ever since we got here. Better and better”

He waited until you’d passed him to rise and follow you over to the doorway. You paused to drop the pot and the brush on the windowsill and he hovered behind you. You could see his reflection in the window, eyes roaming around, trying to think of a response.

“You’re not the same person” you got in before he could think of anything.

“Of course I’m not”

“Of course you’re not” you spat as you moved into the house, stripping off your now green tinged jumper as you went and trailing it over the chair.

“We talked about this” you heard his coat drop over yours and tried to busy yourself with filling the teapot “we talked about how life here was going to be different”

“Life, yes. You, no” the gas wouldn’t light and you were getting more and more worked up, until Michaels hands replaced yours. He elbowed you lightly out the way and you fell back against the counter as he set the flame on the first try. Your tongue moved its way into your cheek and you rolled your eyes up to his smirk as he trapped you against the counter.

“Don’t” you pointed up at him.

“I wasn’t going to say anything”

“Your stupid smirk says otherwise, mister”

“No idea what you’re talking about” he scrunched his nose as he leant to one cheek to place a kiss there, dotting another to your jaw, then your neck. You rolled your eyes, but tilted your head anyway as he brought his hands from the counter to your waist “but aren’t you glad for my magic hands?”

You let out a slight laugh, tucking your forehead into his shoulder. His breath fanned over your skin and you uncrossed your arms to latch onto the front of his shirt.

“You didn’t say it would be like this” you whispered and he tucked you into him tighter “you’re gone all the time. You won’t tell me where you’ve been. You won’t tell me what’s going on. You’re different, Michael. I forget to call you that sometimes – do you know how stupid that feels? Having to correct myself when I talk about my own husband? Not that I really speak to anyone but your mother anyway”

He leaned back and tilted your chin up to meet his eyes.

“I’m Michael Gray. I’m an accountant. You’re my wife. You paint walls with moss”

You shook your head at him and he tried to smile his way out of it again.

“You told me to expect it to be grey and loud and busy. And I was okay with that, because we were moving in to our own real house and starting a proper life together - we were going to be busy city people with a car!” you flared your eyes, your smile dropping as you continued “But this isn’t…I sit alone in a house that feels like a strangers and wait for my stranger to come home. You didn’t promise me this”

His eyes jolted across when the kettle started to whistle, thumb still toying at your chin. You tried to move over but he pulled you back.

“I need to see to it” you insisted.

“It’ll wait. Look at me”

You rolled your head around, not wanting to meet his eyes but he waited, staring at you. You gave up and sighed, dropping your face to meet his gaze.

“I’m trying to keep you safe”

“Fuck that” he laughed at you “No, Hen-Michael. I didn’t ever want you to ‘keep me safe’, that’s not what I wanted. I wanted you to be true to me, and respect me, and make me happy. And right now, I feel like I’m getting none of that.

Screw ‘safe’. I can lock a door and buy a gun by my very own self. But I can’t…you’re my husband, and I understand that you’re adjusting, and learning. But you didn’t stop being my husband when you became her son again. It feels like I lost you when you gained yourself, and that scares me. I’m trying, Michael. It doesn’t feel like you realise that”

“I realise it” he gave up trying to ignore the insistent whistling and turned the gas off, moving back to you in a second “But we’re different people in a different place. I need…time. To figure out where everything fits in this new space”

You moved your hands up to frame his face.

“You need time. I need honesty. Can we agree on that?”

He settled a little, feeling the almost-argument coming to a close. He nodded, lifting one of your hands to kiss at your palm.

“Well then, we better start learning about each other all over again. Falling in love with my new husband all over again. That sounds fun”

He smiled, nuzzling into your palm, and you smiled back at him.

“I do have a few other stipulations, though”

He kept your palm at his lips, moving his eyes to yours and you mirrored the smirk he’d given you earlier.

“And what would they be?”

“Well, for one, I want planters for that yard. If I don’t see something green and growing soon I swear I’ll wither away”

“Granted”

“Oh, ‘granted’ is it? Who made you lord of the manor?”

He laughed a little, nodding for you to carry on.

“Can I please, for the love of all that is holy, meet your damn family?”

“Damned is the right word”

“Michael”

“You know, considering you haven’t had long to practice, you’re very good at giving that name in a scolding tone”

You dropped your expression and tilted your head at him and he laughed again.

“You’ll live to regret that last one, I promise”

“Eh, I survived your mother. Both of ‘em. I can handle a few city boys”

-

Arthur had been looking between you and Michael for at least a full minute by now. Polly had introduced you to everyone as Michael’s wife and Arthur had stepped up to shake your hand, before apparently becoming dumbstruck.

“Hang on” he lifted his hand and pointed to you, keeping his eyes on Michael’s. He was smirking away, while you were just confused “she’s pretty”

You let a breath out, glad that it wasn’t anything terrible he was concerned with. Polly tutted behind him, moving plates around as she readied your first official family dinner. Ada burst out laughing and you shuffled in place, not really sure how to respond.

“Uh, thank you?”

“You sound confused, Arthur?” Michael questioned, his tone teasing rather than genuinely inquisitive.

“What’s a pretty girl doing with you?”

You let out a squeak of laughter at this, throwing your hand up to cover your lips. You wiped your thumb over your clamped lips, looking up through your lashes.

“He was the only eligible man left in the village, Arthur, I really had no choice” you tried to control your smile as you spoke but ended up breaking into laughter again when Polly shot you a look. Michael swatted at your back, guiding you over to the table. He helped take your coat, your arms barely free of the fabric when another man rose from the table and leant over to introduce himself.

“John, I’m the other one”

You laughed, trying to get an arm fully free to shake his outstretched hand. You dropped into your chair as Michael draped your coat over its back and you followed him to where he sat beside you with your eyes. He gave your hand a little clasp of encouragement and winked at you.

“Tell you what, you got her young, didn’t you? That how they do it out in the country?”

You lifted your brows and turned to John.

“Takes one to know one, John. I seem to remember a certain person at a certain birthday doing much the same” Ada scoffed at him.

“Ignore them, sweetheart” Polly added and you waved her off, letting her know it hadn’t upset you.

“Well, you know how the harvest is, John. You don’t collect the carrots and the wives in time, they rot away in the fields. The hot weather does shocking things to us” you smirked as you lifted your glass and he smiled at you.

“Yeah, alright. She’ll do”

[headoverhiddles]

Omg yes I loved the quadruplets headcanon thing! And what if Nicolas has like a bff and they're great friends. But when they get older they both have feelings for each other and they start dating. But Nicolas is scared to tell Gaston and Lefou but his sisters encourage him so he ends up telling them and they're so happy for him (plus they've always like Nicolas's bff). So now they can kiss and stuff around them and his sisters always coo at them! Aahhhhh! The feelings I'm having for this!!!❤️

Yes yes!! [[Original headcanon here]]. 

Okay so let’s call Nicolas’ bff Jean. So Jean and Nick are inseparable, have been best friends since the get go- Jean is a little bit of a troublemaker/bad boy type though (much like Gaston, but a little nicer lmao) and they’re really cute. Anyway, the Headmaster knows them as the kind of duo of his class that never stops talking to each other.

“Nick,” the headmaster says sternly when he sees how close he’s sitting to Jean, “Go sit over there. Jean, you stay where you are.” In my mind, the headmaster is kinda homophobic, so he’s always trying to break them up. Lefou’s onto him, he knows and he’s pissed, but Gaston just reassures him it’s because the old schoolteacher is bitter his wife left him for another man and he has no love in his life. 

Of course, Jean and Nick always play together outside of school too, and as they grow together, they start to do new things together, like the first time they egg an annoying kid’s house: 

“Did you see the look on his face, mon ami?” Jean laughed, slapping his knee. Nicolas grins too, but is worried they’re going to be found out, and even more worried over what his dad’s going to do when he finds out twelve of his precious eggs are missing. Spoiler: the next morning Gaston cries for an hour because he only got to eat four dozen eggs rip. 

To celebrate turning 18 and coming of age, they go on a hunting trip- Gaston tells Nick all the things he has to know about firing a gun and skinning the game, and Lefou packs them up for a weekend at their rustic hunting lodge. 

Now that they’re 18, Jean tells Nick on the way there that he’s going to start courting Christene, a simple farmer’s daughter. He confesses in secret to Nick that he has no real feelings for her, but his parents expect him to start finding a suitable woman to bear his children soon- they’re of a more traditional mindset than Nick’s family. It breaks Nick’s heart to think of his best friend kissing someone else, laughing with someone else, sleeping in the same bed and holding someone else… and his heartache and pining only gets worse sleeping one bed away from him the entire weekend. 

The weekend is filled with Sexual Tension. On the last night, they hear a wolf howling a little too close to their cabin- Nick’s terrified, Jean’s trying to act like a hero, but when the latter takes one step outside with his rifle and hears the howl again, he runs back in, bolts the door, and drags Nick with him to his bed. They snuggle together the entire night, shaking and shivering and very, very close.The close proximity leads to a kiss, and a kiss leads to *cough* both their first times staying warm. The next morning, they talk it out, and decide this is something not worth losing over trying to fit in with the villagers- they would pursue their love.

Nicolas is so happy, but he’s also worried about what his parents would think. Like, sure they’re a same sex couple in a village where such a thing is pretty socially unacceptable, but still… what if they wanted something different for him?? 

His sisters are all together for a while instead of just having Antoinette around, (as Adalene, the eldest, has come back briefly from a trip to Paris to seek out jobs there in the fashion modelling industry, and Alexandra has come back to visit from school in London). They all notice Nick’s a little more neurotic than usual, and visit him where he’s sitting in the barn one day. He tells them all about the trip and what happened, and they’re all squealing for him, beyond happy. 

“Do you love each other?” Adelene asks, clasping her hands together. 

“Does he know what he’s getting into with dad and his infamous date target practice?” Alexandra asks, crossing her arms.

“Was he superb in bed?!” Antoinette hisses, “I always imagined Jean would be with those legs.” Adalene smacks her upside the head. They ask when he’s going to tell their dad and papa, but Nick tells them how scared he is of coming out. They don’t pressure him, but remind him of the fact that Gaston and Lefou would never, ever hate him for this. 

Soon after, Nick’s papa sits him down one day in town by the fountain, and tells his moping son a story. 

“You know why I love this fountain so much, Nick?” Lefou asks. 

“Why, papa?” Nick sighs, resting his chin on his fist. 

“Because I was pushed into it when I was your age.” 

Nick frowns, and Lefou elaborates with a smile and a distant, dreamy look. “Yep. All my schoolmates gathered around and pushed me right in- they thought it was so funny, cause I couldn’t swim. Yeah, it was just a fountain, but I was scared to death of water.”

“So? What happened?” Nick asked, fully invested in the story now. 

“So… picture this,” Lefou holds his hands up, “I’m floating there, splashing around like a maimed duck, and out of the butcher shop comes-”

“Dad?”

“You guessed it.”

“Knew this was gonna be a sappy story.”

“Hey, you’re 18. Thought I would tell you about the time I met your dad- and the time when he was the only one in this village who went against the grain and respected me.” He nudges his son. “He was also an oblivious fuckwad, who couldn’t take a hint for 13 years. Eventually, I had to kiss him in order for it to click that- woah!- this guy who’s been swooning over me for 13 years and would do anything for me actually likes me?!” Lefou chuckles. “Aaaand, that’s how we got married. Point is…” He chooses his words carefully, “Sometimes, it takes a while for someone to realize how they feel. But they’ll come around, if it’s meant to be.”

Nick looks up, realizing what his papa’s talking about- or who. Should he tell him now?

“I do. Now let’s go find Alexandra in the book shop, and pick you some flowers to give to Jean tonight.”   

“W-what?”

“Seriously, take it from someone who knows, Nick- sometimes, you’ve gotta pull their heads outta their asses for them.” 

“The thing is, papa…” 

“Yeah?”

“Um…” Nicolas blinks, and decides to wait until that night- he obviously had his papa’s support, but he wanted to break the news in front of both of his parents

. At dinner, he finally stands up, and clears his throat, placing a hand over his heart. Gaston immediately rolls his eyes, ripping his chunk of bread in half.  

“Oh heaven help me, Nicolas, you’re not going to recite another passage from that dastardly boring book about the… oh, what was it? The moody prince and all his dead friends, are you?” 

“How dare you, dad, Hamlet is extraordinary!” Alexandra gasps, but Lefou shushes them, eagerly awaiting what Nick has to say. 

“I…” Nick starts, blushing, “I’ve begun a relationship with Jean.” He’s silent, waits. His sisters are already clapping silently, encouraging him. 

“Well, it’s about damn time!” Gaston finally grins, kicking out his chair, rising from the table, and walking over to yank Nick into a stifling bear hug. “He’s a good, strong young lad, Jean is- I like him. Proud of you,” he adds, kissing him on the top of the head, and Lefou sighs, hugging Nick as well. Later, he cuddles into his husband in bed. 

“Our son is so brave,” he whispers. 

“He is,” Gaston nods, “And he will need to continue to be- relationships like ours and his won’t make it easy for him. He’ll need a tough hide. A streak of confidence.”

“I think Jean’s got that trait down pat,” Lefou chuckles, already wondering if Nick would wear his father’s captain uniform or a specially tailored dress to his future wedding. 

Oooooh that was really long but I love this headcanon *cries*

[flipperbaby1975]

Of freakin' course

I was looking for small screws to attempt to mend the kitchen drawer again. I'm not sure why i did it, but the sudden urge to read Dawn’s journals hit me. And i caved, and read them all. Well, i learned that i was right, our reconciliation was going to fall apart even if i HAD remembered our dating anniversary. She was/is back in contact with her former Philosophy professor, John Cutts from RACC via snapchat. He's married with no children, and was obviously hitting on her when she was taking his class. I presume she wrote to him first. He said she couldn't text him... ever. Or contact him in the evenings or on the weekends. Ha!! Oh man. The only thing that kinda bugs me was this was written in the first week of November. We were supposedly still reconciled at that point. She did virtually the SAME THING less than 4 months later! Dude...for real?! Oh man... She either doesn't see herself at all or just doesn't care or have any respect for how i would have felt. If we hadn't already agreed to divorce I'd be furious. But alas. It no longer matters, thank god. I'm a little annoyed she got so pissed at me for forgetting an anniversary we never celebrated before...all the while THIS was going on...but it has to be water under the bridge. Not just for the boys but mostly for myself. I can't hate my sons' mother. We have to get along...and i want to get along. It's a little annoying but what are ya gonna do? She's a bad wife...and i can say with confidence that I am no longer a bad husband. The key thing here for me to focus on is that she won't be my problem anymore...and not a minute too soon. I probably sound more bitter than i really am. It really didnt feel good to read her journals. I knew it would upset me (was i expecting to find good things in there?) I really hope i never give in again and attempt to see if she'd written more...which she must have considering the last entry i read was in November. And it was early February we agreed to divorce. I know knowing too much might bother me. She did come home with flowers in a vase the other day. She said they were from Janet...but due to NOT being a fucking idiot, I know that's bullshit. Once she's moved out it won't matter. And it will be in June. We've both been looking for apartments and we found a good one in the Wilson school district. One day at a time.