#I'm not kidding when I said there's a lot

[fleuriion]

✦ Chiming Bell ノ MODERN! High school hcs with the Chrysos Heir because I love them so much ⸝⸝ gn reader ⸝⸝ wc: 1780 ✦ Note ; The usual grammar error and spelling mistakes warning ⸝⸝ if they come across as ooc then I apologize because I'm still not very confident in my ability of writing HSR characters haha ⸝⸝ This can be interpreted as both romantic and platonic as your liking! ⸝⸝ will probably edit out some mistakes ⸝⸝ I'm very sorry for not including Hyacine TT

♡ Phainon ⸝⸝ I feel like he's kind of a jock BUT also not a jock. Like, he's not THOSE jocks that get angry at you if you cannot catch the ball that is beaming at 1000 mph to your face. ⸝⸝ Those popular kids that are actually super nice to everyone. I feel like he doesn't judge people much and if he does dislike someone, will not rub it in their face unless they deserve to. ⸝⸝ Basically just a ray of sunshine. Definitely has Mydei as his seatmate and I just imagine Phainon walking into class greeting everyone every morning and then Mydei is just sitting there massaging his temple, wondering how he's so bright this early. ⸝⸝ While he's generally super nice, I think Phainon is also pretty mischievous though. I can already imagine him getting into some light troubles and then having to sweep the hallway as a punishment LMAO. ⸝⸝ Probably enjoys learning history and literature, he just gets super sleepy and perhaps bored in them. Decent at math but HORRIBLE at science like chemistry. Phainon comes up to Mydei as lab partner and Mydei prays the two of them don't get involved in any sorts of explosion or chemical accident /j ⸝⸝ When Phainon is pinning on you, he will 100% turn into a golden retriever. Follows you around in a non-creepy way, helps you carry stuff, probably tries tutoring you the best he could, sometimes ask to have lunch together and then drags you to the rest of his friends. ⸝⸝ Gets super shy about it and it didn't escape his friends. Also gets not bullied but teased a lot for it, when you walked past them far enough, I feel like most likely Mydei would go "holy shit is that Phainon's lover walking past by just now?!" ⸝⸝ When he announced that the two of you are dating to his friends, they would hold their pearl necklace and pretend like they're shocked (except it's so purposefully exaggerated it's hilarious wow Phainon you're so slick!) ♡ Aglaea ⸝⸝ I hc'd that the Chrysos Heir is basically akin to the Student Council in the modern world, so expect no less that Aglaea is definitely the president or at the VERY least the vice president. ⸝⸝ That one strict classmate who always looks her best and behaves the best too. Probably a class president or rep too?? Would reprimand her classmates or the other students to mind both their attire and attitude. ⸝⸝ Teacher's pet, except she's one that you can't really walk over or trample. Girl just has that aura in her for not only being smart but also beautiful?!?! (My GOAT Aglaea as always) ⸝⸝ Looks scary at first glance, but if you need her help with studying she would help say no more! That one meme that goes like "would you let me copy your homework?" "no, but I'll help you with it" ⸝⸝ This may sound pretty personal and specific but hc that she excels and enjoys public speaking. Her words and articulations are probably amazing if you get what I mean... ⸝⸝ Honestly, if she is pinning on you? Nobody would pretty much find out about it unless she personally said so. I'm sorry but Aglaea strikes off to me as the type to be super good at hiding aka slick with her feelings for someone. (Ironically for being the bearer of Mnestia's coreflame in lore lol) ⸝⸝ So when she told her friends that you two are dating, their surprise is actually real and pure. ⸝⸝ It's still noticeable though subtle tho! Aglaea will be extra mindful of you and will no doubt worry about your grades and your performance. Would help you study even if it takes time say less! ♡ Mydei

⸝⸝ Similarly to Phainon, seems like a jock but isn't too much of a jock once you get to know about him. I think it's pretty much just a first impression since he's physically well built and healthy. For someone with his looks, Mydei is a pretty quiet and calm seatmate, ones targeted by people who is just full on comical nonsense (Trailblazer for instance…. They're so stupid I love them).

⸝⸝ Seemingly messy appearance (that slightly loose collar and messily tied tie fix that rn Mydei i hate hastily tied tie and sometimes spends 5 minutes redoing it if I couldn't get it right sobs), but is actually very discipline and a pretty decent student. Also hc that he uses reading glasses.

⸝⸝ Bluddy is probably the first to arrive at class and is usually pretty punctual with a few exceptions being made. Definitely that one friend who sleeps early and wakes up early. Probably lets you copy his homework just so you can get off his ass.

⸝⸝ Excels at history, terrible at math, probably decent at chemistry??? Hear me out though, he's terrible at math and physics but he's interested in them so it's kind of a party pooper LAMFAO (self projecting). Mydei doesn't hate it, he probably just doesn't understand it.

⸝⸝ Those type of guys that people are scared of because of his appearance, but is actually good with juniors. He helps them with studying and getting the subject's concept wrapped around their head and somehow patient for a man that doesn't look like he has patience at all.

⸝⸝ When Mydei pins on you, he won't look nor act THAT much different around you. If you're a much more comical or hilarious kind of person, he endures and tolerates you more. He will offer more lending hands though; for instance, explaining things you don't understand more, willingly tutors you, sneaks gifts into your desk or locker and then softly denies it when questioned (you're not slick bro.)

⸝⸝ Mydei doesn't announce it if you two are dating, rather, his friends found out on their own by the slight flush on his face when he's around you and the way his fierce eyes seemed to simmer down a little when you're around.

♡ Castorice

⸝⸝ SUPER quiet and probably finds it hard to communicate all the time. The reason people know her is mostly because she's apart of the Student Council, but that aside, she's also super kind and nice!

⸝⸝ Hangs around Aglaea a lot and acts as her 'assistant' or similar. Also a teacher's pet except on the more mellow side and one that even the meanest of the mean doesn't have the heart to mock.

⸝⸝ She probably could be vice president.. But that's just a rough gut and because I see her as one. Also reprimands her classmates and other students to be mindful of their attire and attitude.

⸝⸝ Generally good at any subjects given, but I hc that Castorice really likes art and music classes. The atmosphere is quieter and much more peaceful that even her mind could rest a little. Definitely joins clubs like sewing club.

⸝⸝ Sometimes sleeps on recess because I see her as those super-tired looking type of people who can doze off while standing but refrains on doing so in classes. Due to this, probably picks the seat closer to the window to hide away from the lights at the center of the class.

⸝⸝ When Castorice pins on you, she will subtly get super shy around you. Sometimes stutters on her speech and is extra polite at you much to the awkwardness. Be prepared for cuteness overload!!

⸝⸝ Castorice definitely makes things for you! A small crochet plush, flower crowns, or some fake flowers that reminds her of you. Surfs into flower language to express her affection to you by making said flowers for you!

⸝⸝ Castorice would reluctantly yet shyly declares her love for you one random evening, and the rest of the Chyrsos Heir is totally NOT spying at you two from behind some bushes. ♡ Anaxa

⸝⸝ This man is canonically a professor according to the in-game lore what else do I need to say??

⸝⸝ That one smart kid who's super snarky and sarcastic. If you think Mydei is pretty sarcastic for someone, then behold Anaxagoras and his sharp yet elegant tongue that totally does not remind me of a certain doctor.

⸝⸝ He definitely no doubt enjoys subjects science related. Chemistry, physics, biology, name it. Yet nobody really dares to approach him and ask him to be their lab partner due to, again, the aura that surrounds him. You feel like you're shrinking per second you stand next to him if you don't know anything about him. Also hc that he enjoys scientific debates.

⸝⸝ He probably goes overseas to attend science olympics like a lot, and obviously comes back with victory by his side. He's probably academic rivals with Aglaea haha. I can just see them competing for the school's 1st place.

⸝⸝ Anaxa gets avoided by plenty people because of his personality, but he doesn't pay any mind nor does he care about it. After all, his only interest currently is knowledge, isn't it..?

⸝⸝ Well that's until you, who doesn't seem to be that much avoidant of him, came along to his life. Anaxa is that one person that goes deep into denial when he has feelings for someone. "NO. WDYM I HAVE FEELINGS FOR THEM. FUCK."

⸝⸝ The rest of the Chrysos Heir found out about this when one random day, Anaxa suddenly came up to Hyacine and started asking her questions related to feelings that are leaning a little bit tooooo much on the romantic side (much to his dismay and denial). Even with his denial, he found himself coming up to the pink haired girl and asking her about this… Very foreign feeling of what she described as "butterflies fluttering in his stomach" and a suspiciously big grin on her face.

⸝⸝ Like Phainon, Anaxa doesn't escape the constant teasing from the Chrysos Heir for this, mainly Aglaea. She will devilishly giggle into her fingertips and make subtle jabs at him when she talks to you; "[name], do you have just any idea how breathtaking you are?" while giving Anaxa looks to which he responded with not only a glare but a suspiciously burning pair of ear tips <3

[max-nicoxfandom]

Happy WIP Wednesday ! Here is a first draft/snippet of a random chapter in my long fic I'm working on (don't go looking for it, still unsure if I'm going to post it), bc I think I'm gonna take this part out even if I really like the concept.

Danny is like 6-7yrs old in this

Danny is a weird kid.

That's not to say Dick expected him to be normal when his family took him in. No, even if Danny wasn't still half dead, no one in this family is normal. Not even Duke and Barbara, the self proclaimed normies of the family.

Danny has brought a certain life to the manor, even in death, that has Dick contemplating moving back. Somehow, even Jason has been spending more time than usual there. Arguments have been lessened, the manor has been less creaky and more settled, Alfred even looks a little younger these days.

It's both the fault of Danny's sweet exterior, and the odd green that swirls in the blue of his eyes. Not the same hue as Jason's, but something near to it.

He's a lot like Jason, actually. Dick is sure if Jason had come to them just a little bit younger he'd be the spitting image of Danny.

It's the little things that make them look so similar. Almost everyone in the manor has the blue-green eye, black hair combo. It's everything else in Danny that makes him look exactly like Jason.

Danny likes to wish the moon good morning when he sees it during the day, and insists on opening his curtains when he goes to sleep so the moon can listen to his bedtime story too. He likes to check his stuffed animals for injuries when they fall off furniture. He thanks Alfred for his food, and thanks his food for being yummy. When he leaves the manor, he blows the building a kiss goodbye.

Dick does not tell Bruce that the house pulls itself from the ground, and creaks back.

Sure, Jason wasn't dead (not yet, anyway), but he was so excited to be alive. He had that same disposition to do good to everyone and everything that Danny does. Jason may not be some sort of partial human like Danny, but Jason was Robin, and Robin? Robin is magic.

You don't have to believe in ghosts for them to be real, and you don't have to see Danny for him to exist. On the same wavelength, you don't have to see Robin to know Jason made him magic. It was just the truth. Like how the sky is blue and Bruce is Batman.

Dick is watching his life be changed one step at a time, just like it was with Jason–like how it was supposed to be with Jason–and like it was with his siblings.

He keeps flowers in his car now. He didn't before, he never had a reason for it.

But one time, Danny cried as they passed a graveyard. He was sitting curled up against the window in the back while Dick hummed along to some ballad on the radio. It was peaceful, as things tend to be when Danny's around, and even as the kid cried Dick never stopped feeling tranquil. He knew everything would be okay, Dick would stop at nothing to make his new brother happy again.

“I have no flowers.” He’d said. Dick hadn't even gotten the chance to ask what was wrong. “They'll all be so sad I came by, and I had no flowers.”

Danny's eyes were green when he'd spoken. Green, teary, and filled with more mourning a child should ever understand. Dick's heart broke about a thousand times over.

So now Dick keeps flowers in his car. Whenever he drives past a graveyard he throws a flower out the window, just like Danny does. And if the bouquet dies before he gets to give them away, he gives them to Danny, and he buries them in the backyard.

Green eyed and sad. Sometimes Jason joins him, sometimes Damian does. Dick never feels like it's his place.

This fic also has to do with the cult thing I was talking about sometime ago, and the post about big cities. I kinda regret having this take place in Gotham instead of Amity, but it's too late now (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

Asks and interactions are always welcome !

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Hello. I realize this might be overly personal for this blog but I was wondering if you had any advice for my situation. I'm trying to get back into creative hobbies like drawing and writing and while I made some progress with drawing I've really struggled with writing. It's been about ten years. I struggled with my mental health a lot when I was younger and essentially let my depression/anxiety and ADHD destroy all my creative ability. Logically I know the answer is to just write and write badly, but I'm preemptively disappointed and upset that what I write will be. Well. Shit. Or that I'll never improve. Or that I have no idea what to write. And when I do have an idea what to write it's all just gone from my head the second I sit down to write. So. Er. I guess I'm wondering if you have any advice or resources for people like me? Thank you :)

When you're juggling various different Back-Stabbing Brain issues, various pieces of writing advice - getting up at 5pm, forcing yourself to do it, etc - just doesn't work. For me, it's been a struggle to figure out even in optimal situations, so you're not alone. For me, the following is what worked.

Figure out your peak writing time.

Unfortunately, in our capitalist hellscape, you may not be able to use that time to your advantage. My peak time is from 2pm-5pm, right in the middle of work and fades right when I get home. Not ideal. But I can use that knowledge to take advantage of that time on my free days, and I can strategically time my breaks to do some writing. Or just write while pretending to work. Not that I would ever confess to doing that.

Taking the time to figure out when your brain is most willing to work with you is also very helpful. My brain will not work for writing after 8pm. It can, however, still do the dishes. Forcing myself to put off chores so that I can write is super hard thanks to my ADHD (which hates chores until I need to do something else), but I can combat that by making goal lists, scheduling my writing time (with set alarms on my phone!) helps me manage that.

Change location.

I can't get a lot of work done at home. I've tried. I've moved my desk around, I've locked down my internet browsers when writing, I have ignored the way my cat stares holes into my back to try to write. My brain, though, knows that the bed is right over there, we've got that pile of books to read, and oh hey, Tasting History has a new video. Also my cat wants to steal my computer chair and then get constant pets while in said chair because she is a princess baby. It's a losing battle.

What does work for me? Dragging my work to the library. Finding a cafe with enough space and quiet music to get some stuff done. Breaking out a foldable desk on the porch so that there is a closeable barrier between me and my distractions (the cats hate this option).

Changing location is something that works for me. If you have limited options, build barriers between yourself and distractions. Pile stuff on the bed so that it's not easy to give in and lie down for "just a minute." Close doors. Bribe your cats (or your kids). Use a standing desk - shifting your position can help lock down some of the ansty need to be doing something (my chair-stealing cat is more than happy to help with this).

I know of one writer who only gets work done by locking herself in her bathroom, because it's just enough change of scene to get her thoughts to settle. I know another writer who can only get editing done sitting in his parked car. However wacky, trying different scenarios to get something to work can really help.

Find the right tools.

The only way I can draft is by hand. It sucks and I have carpal tunnel, but my brain cannot type words into a blank screen. I need a pile of messy papers that no one else can read to work from.

I'm also very particular about what I write with. I use Uni Power Tank pens from Japan (because they're the only damn pen I've found that doesn't smear my left-handed writing), and I cycle through different types of paper I exclusively work with. Right now it's Five Star Reinforced Filler Paper with the triangle holes, not the round ones.

I don't know why this works, it just does. I've changed up what I've used over time, but as long as I'm consistent and not trying to write a chapter using differently-sized paper (insert scream here), I can get it done. Test out different tools and find what fits for you.

Organization isn't helping? Embrace chaos.

Jeff VanderMeer wrote an entire series on post-it notes, napkins, and on the backs of old bills. I wouldn't recommend that, but if a little chaos gets the job done, then do it. Spread a story across several half-filled notebooks. Map dialogue using only flashcards. Instead of waiting to sit down to get work done, scribble away while on a bus or on the move (safely, of course). Use a speech-to-text app to talk out your writing. Sometimes the more tactile you can make writing, the more you can break up those barriers keeping you from writing.

Try out different things! You'll eventually find what works for you

[allthingsfangirl101]

Big Brother's Wedding – Glen Powell

The second I left my room, I heard voices coming from the front room. I descended the beach house stairs, recognizing the voice of my brother's childhood best friend.

"Do my ears deceive me," I started to taunt him before they could see me, "or is that the best Tornado Wrangler this side of the Mississippi?"

"Ha ha," Glen faked laughed. I rounded the corner, instantly seeing his Hollywood smile. "My dear sweet Y/N."

He laughed for real as he wrapped his arms around me. "It's good to see you, Y/N."

"It's good to see you too, Glen," I whispered. We broke the hug and I could feel my face burning. "I'm kinda surprised, Powell."

"By what?" He smirked as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"By the fact that you actually took time away from being Netflix's Heartthrob to come to your childhood best friend's wedding."

"Are you kidding?" He chuckled as he put my brother in a playful headlock. "I wasn't going to miss this dweeb's wedding. Who else is gonna tell his girl that she's too good for him?"

"Who else is gonna tell me that I'm the only adult among the three of us?" I rolled my eyes and headed to the kitchen as they started to fight the way they did as teenage idiots.

I grabbed three beers from the fridge and opened them. Once I opened the last one, the two idiots jogged into the kitchen. They laughed as I handed them each a beer.

"Thanks, Y/N," Glen smiled as he took it. I nodded before taking a drink of my beer.

"Your room is going to be upstairs," my brother started to explain. "It's the room between mine and Y/N's."

"Should I be worried about the bride-to-be sneaking in?" Glen smirked.

"Shannon and her family are in the beach house next door," I chuckled. "and her parents are very traditional. The soon-to-be-married couple can see each other during the day, but no sneaking off in the night."

Without warning, my brother ran out of the house. "What the hell was that?" Glen chuckled. I pointed outside, making Glen follow my finger to my brother running toward a girl and picking her up, spinning her around.

"Gotcha," he laughed. "Our boy's really in love, huh?"

"Oh yeah," I elongated. "I've never seen him like this, Glen. He's really in love."

"That's great," he smiled. I watched as his smile slowly fell.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he cleared his throat. "I was just. . . Do you ever wonder if it's gonna happen for you?"

"What?"

"Falling in love."

The silence came suddenly and it was thick. I let it settle before trying to lighten the tension. "You fall in love on almost every movie set," I teased.

"True," he sighed, "but it's not real. I want something real. Something. . . timeless. I want to find a girl that I'm crazy for. A girl who if I go even a day without talking to her, it's too long. A girl who I want to be with every minute of every day. A girl who, when friends look at me, they say that I am whipped. A girl that I would happily leave my boys for. A girl who is the most important person in the world to me. I just want to find my person, my girl."

"You will," I said, my voice soft. "Someday you will find a girl who will be as crazy about you as you are about her."

"And someday you'll find a guy worthy of you," Glen smiled. I watched as his smile turned slightly dark. "And if he hurts you, I'll kick his ass."

* * * * *

We spent the next couple of days hanging out, drinking, and acting like stupid kids again. It was great. I've missed this.

After playing the version of football that Glen learned for Top Gun: Maverick, I collapsed onto my lounge chair under the umbrella. I drank some water before relaxing into my seat.

"You good?"

I opened my eyes and instantly shielded them from the sun. I ignored the embarrassment flooding me when I saw Glen standing in front of me. Very shirtless and very sweaty.

"Yeah," I chuckled, trying to relax. "Just needed a breather. The game's a lot more intense than I thought it would be."

"I know," he laughed as he sat on the chair next to me. "The day after we filmed the scene, we were all so sore. They had to give us a day off so we could feel our bodies again."

"Rumor was that you got hurt filming that scene," I said, my voice slightly softening.

"There were worse scenes," he shrugged off as he turned back to our friends. I let the silence settle between us for a few seconds before I had to tell him.

"I've missed you, Glen," I sighed, my eyes on my brother and his friends.

"I've missed you too, Y/N," he said, looking at me, but I didn't return the glance. 

"I hope you know," I said, slowly turning toward him, "Matt's really missed you. As soon as he got engaged, he kept talking about planning the wedding in between your projects. He wanted to make sure you could make it."

"I would've made it," he winked. "No matter what."

"Okay!" Matt yelled as he walked over. "Let's go!"

"Go where?" I laughed, sending a look toward Glen. 

"Sailing, duh!"

My head snapped toward my brother. "You. . . You can't be serious," I stuttered.

"It's gonna be great!"

"Matt, are you sure that's a good idea?" Glen asked, glancing at me, his eyes soft. 

"Y/N," my brother said softly, "you'll be fine. I checked the weather. No storms. Nothing we can't handle. Plus, the boat has a railing." He patted my shoulder before leaving.

I looked out at the ocean, my mind going back to that horrible sailing trip, my brother, Glen, and I took back in high school. I fell overboard and almost drowned.

"You going to be okay?" Glen asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I said, my voice slightly breaking. I looked over to see Glen studying me.

"Y/N," he whispered as he reached over and grabbed my hand. I quickly pulled my hand back and stood up. I started gathering my things, not looking at Glen.

"I'll be fine."

* * * * *

As we left the dock, my hand gripped the railing tightly. I could feel Glen's eyes on me, but I couldn't look at him. I gasped when the boat went over a wave. I closed my eyes and tried to take a deep, calming breath. I opened my eyes when I felt someone gently grab my hand.

"It's okay," Glen whispered as he sat next to me. "We are perfectly safe."

"I know," I said shakily. I looked up at him and let out a small chuckle. "I begged my brother to do anything else for this outing."

My heart skipped a beat when he scooted a little closer to me.

"I begged him to choose something else, too," he nodded. I studied him, trying to see if he was being honest with me.

"Did you really?"

"Of course," he said, his eyes softening. "I even brought up the time when we were in high school and went sailing."

"I begged my brother to go back to the dock but . . ."

"He ignored you," Glen finished. "I turned to him to tell him that it was probably the right idea. You screamed and when I turned around, you were gone. You had fallen overboard."

"You dove in and saved me."

"I couldn't let you drown," he said, his voice lowering.

I gasped when we went over another wave and landed hard. I instantly tucked into Glen's chest and he quickly wrapped his arms around me. I closed my eyes and tried to calm down.

"I'll be right back," he said, anger building as he stood up.

"Wait!" I grabbed his wrist before he could walk away. Embarrassment flooded me as I added, "Where are you going?"

He smiled as he knelt in front of me. "I'm going to go talk to your brother. This was a stupid idea and all he's doing is torturing you. I've had enough."

I wrapped my arms around myself as Glen went over and got in my brother's face. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but my brother looked at me over Glen's shoulder. I sent him a weak smile even though I was shaking.

My brother said something to Glen before turning back to the steering wheel. Glen patted his back before returning to me. He sat next to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

"Matt is taking us back to the dock."

"Thank you," I said, my voice breaking.

"Just focus on the dock getting closer," he tried to comfort me. With his free hand, he grabbed one of mine. We sat like that the entire ride back to the dock. The second we got back, I was the first one off the boat.

I didn't focus on what everyone else was doing. I needed to get back to the beach house before my panic attack bubbled up. As I unlocked the front door, I finally turned around. My heart jumped into my throat when I saw Glen getting in Matt's face. It was clear that Glen was angry while my brother was surprised.

I shook off any curiosity I had and went up to my room. I got in the shower and allowed the hot water to wash any anxiety away. Once I was sure I had successfully stopped my attack, I got out of the shower and pulled on my pajamas. 

Everyone was already asleep when I went downstairs to make myself a cup of tea. I was just pouring it into a cup when someone else came downstairs.

"How you feeling?"

I looked over my shoulder to see Glen walking in. "I know that boats kind of trigger you and when you're triggered, you end up having a panic attack. I'm hoping I stopped it in time."

"You did," I said, a little too quickly. I cleared my throat before looking back at my hands wrapped around my tea.

"Good," he chuckled. He walked over and poured himself a cup of tea before sitting next to me. We drank in silence for a while, neither one of us breaking it. Glen eventually did.

"You ready for the wedding tomorrow?"

"I guess," I mumbled. I looked over when I felt his eyes on me.

"You guess?"

"I just mean," I stuttered, "I'm really happy for my brother and future sister-in-law."

"Then what is it?"

I hesitated. "It's the fact that, no matter how happy I am for my brother, it's not easy to sit back and watch your sibling get married while you haven't even had a long-term boyfriend."

"I get that," he nodded. "It's not easy sitting back and watching your best friend get married while you haven't even had a long-term girlfriend."

We started at each other, the tension getting thicker by the minute.

"Well," he said softly, "at least we won't be the only single people tomorrow. We'll have each other."

Part 2

[friedcheesemogu]

Levi loves his kids SO MUCH. There's about a hundred things that can be said about his relationship to the 104th and the way he's always looked after people younger than him, but what the above comment said about Gabi gets me, because their relationship in particular is something that's come to mean a lot to me.

I remember when that manga chapter came out, and someone on the subreddit noticed their position on Falco and said something to the extent of "the kick-back on that gun has always been too strong for her, and Levi recognizes this, which is why he's holding her in place."

And my heart changed that day. Because this is the girl Levi straight up addressed as "girl who killed Sasha." And granted I know Levi will never forget that (and neither will she) but he doesn't have to in order to recognize that this Eren-esque murder child whose entire world view shifts in a matter of weeks is still just that: a child, manipulated like so many others he's met, who was doing what she thought was the right thing to do at the time --but she can change. He's seen first hand the monstrousness of growing up driven by rage in a world of horror and war, and instead of continuing to condemn her for her mistakes, he actively (and physically) supports her when she needs it.

That he goes with her and Falco instead of the ambassadors is so poignant for me (that could be a whole other post). I wonder if sometimes he looks at her and sees what Eren could have become if the cards (or the sand, as it were) had been more stacked in his favor. It was never his responsibility to make sure Eren didn't completely lose himself, but I'm sure the fact that Levi ultimately couldn't protect him from his own darkness weighs on him. I wonder if he looks at Gabi and thinks about how he wasn't there to save Isabel, but he was there to make sure this girl didn't fly into the abyss while fighting for her life. I wonder if he looks at Gabi and thinks "maybe this time I'll get it right."

TL;DR Levi and Gabi give me so many feelings (and if they had a spin-off series where they flew around on Falco and fought crime together, I would be first in line for it)

Pookie acting like a ✨ dad✨

[plethorawrites]

I'm back to my once in a blue moon Roy post. And again, I can't stop thinking about how any person he dated HAS to be approved by Lian.

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

It doesn't matter how much Roy Harper likes you or how perfect he thinks you are, if Lian doesn't like one of his partners, he'll break up with that person the next day.

He obviously waits a while to see if he even likes you enough to introduce you to her, but once he makes that decision, it's nerve wracking. He wants her to approve. He really does. And you want her too as well. He drones on about her constantly. Basically the entire first date was him relating every question you asked him back to her somehow.

Favorite place to go? The zoo, because Lian loves it. Favorite food? Grilled cheese, because he makes it for her so much he got hooked. Favorite color? It changes when hers does because everything she owns switches shades too. But he's partial to the color closest to her eyes.

And you're just as excited and nervous to meet her, knowing exactly how important she is to him. Lian is a good judge of character, she can know instantly if someone is wrong for her dad and she doesn't want them around him.

With you, it's the same as all the others. She's standoffish, curious but hesitant, asking you questions that only seem to have bad answers the way all kids somehow manage to do. And you're panicking, admittedly, not only at the questions, but at seeing Roy slowly deflate when he realizes how judgmental his daughter is.

At some point he excuses himself from the room for a moment, either to take a call, or try to take a breath because he's suddenly thinking about ending the relationship. But the second he walks away and both you and Lian can see the disappointment in posture, you both soften. Mostly her.

"...He works a lot," she told you, almost like a deterrent.

You nodded softly. "I know."

There was a pause, her princess crown falling a little bit. "Things with mom didn't end well," she mumbled.

You fixed her crown. "I know that, too." Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear you scooted closer to her on the couch. "I don't want to replace your mom, Lian. I just...want to love your dad."

She looked up at you. No one he brought home ever said the L word before. Not unless it was in some patronizing way as they talked about her while squishing her cheeks.

Her lips quirked, fighting a pout. "He's always busy," she repeated with emphasis. "I don't even see him for a week or two." She knew why, of course, and never blamed him. It still hurt.

Things suddenly clicked for you, realizing Lian was less worried about you, and more worried about you stealing her time with him.

"Well...maybe when he's gone, you and I could go somewhere? Do you like the aquarium?" You suggested hesitantly, watching her furrow her brows in skepticism as she nodded. "And maybe when he's back, we could all do something too, like a movie..." She seemed to relax a little, still pouting. "I'm not trying to steal him from you. You're the most important thing in his life, you know? You'll always come first."

...

A while later, Roy had all but prepared his typical break up speech, planning to tell you he liked you a lot but needed to take care of Lian and her needs first before focusing on himself. It hurt more this time, though, rehearsing it, than it usually did.

He walked back into the living room, freezing when he saw you braiding Lian's hair, a blanket pulled over her lap as she clicked the buttons on a remote.

"Oh, there you are," you said, glancing up. "We were going to watch 'Brave', do you want to join us?"

He blinked a few times, glancing at his daughter to ensure she wasn't just pretending. Then again, she never went along with anything she didn't actually want to do.

Roy nodded slightly, sitting next to Lian, squishing her in-between you two as she found the movie on the TV.

"You should make us popcorn," she practically demanded, starting the movie and glancing back at you as you finished her hair. "He makes really good popcorn."

You nodded curiously, giving her a small smile. "You ever tried it with M&M's in it before?"

Her eyes widened, head snapping towards her dad as if already asking for it. "O-okay, yeah, I'll check if we have any," he muttered, standing up, sparing a glance over his shoulder as he saw you pulling a blanket over Lian's lap while she passed her favorite princess crown to you.

It seemed she did approve, this time.

[lovemyromance]

I think claiming SJM is a misogynistic author is a lot. She has certain...let's call it "ideals" that shows she reveres the males she writes, the way she describes relationships and men in general in her books is very "primal". It's a lot of cavemen type, super masculine men.

But to call her misogynistic? I think that's a stretch.

Especially when her books are centered around female empowerment. When she's out here renouncing the control people have tried to assert over a woman's body - via Bryce CC3 -

She might have certain takes that I do not agree with, but to try to justify this disgusting argument of Elain not being able to birth Azriel's kids by saying :

"Well SJM's the type of misogynistic author that would do that! I'm not misogynistic, SJM is misogynistic and I'm just picking up on the breadcrumbs!"

Like no. I'm sorry but in this case you are picking up things that are not there. And you're trying to use an author's writing style to justify it. That is wrong.

You may not be misogynistic. But you're letting this ship war cloud your judgement so badly that you are willing to vilify an author just to have a scapegoat to blame for your misogynistic takes.

You're willing to have those misogynistic takes and defend them by saying "the author said it not me!" -> that is still not okay. That is still a misogynistic take.

Stop it. It is really very easy to not use a woman's child birthing abilities to justify your ship. Literally use anything else. This also goes for the people that try to way Azriel can't be with Gwyn because she has SA trauma. Like ... both of these are wrong.

Don't fucking go around saying that. Just don't. It's that easy.

SJM has made her opinion very clear on how she feels about this idea of women being reduced to only whose children they can birth.

You're the ones who refuse to see it. Stop hiding behind "oh SJM is problematic and misogynistic." She might be. But she has also been very clear in this specific case that she does not support your Illyrian anatomy pelvic theories. She does not support this idea that Elain & Azriel cannot be together because Elain can't bear his children.

Move on. Use something else. If you're that secure in your ship, taking one thing off the table shouldn't be able to affect it.

I'm tired of people in this fandom gaslighting Elriels about it too. Like trying to tell us "oh no GA/EL uses that defense anymore stop yapping about it" and then a whole article comes out about it. And people are defending it. Not condemning it. I have not seen ONE GA/EL looking at that article and saying

"You know what? You're right. This is a shitty take. This is not a reason a couple can't be together."

I'm not even saying they need to do that. But at least don't go around and agree with it - for WHATEVER reason.

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Yandere destined one... deciding to courtnap his new obsession. I would love to see this!

(I don't write much destined one but I'm really liking his character!)

Two young children sat in the shadow of the apricot trees, fresh and juicy fruits in their hands while they spit away the seeds, playing and laughing. Your childish laugh echoed when you were able to defeat the young one beside you.

Your innocent and naive mind never found trouble in his look, after all, how many kids could have said to be friends with a demon monkey?

"You know," you said, chewing another fruit, "my big sister is going to get married soon, and they promised me to buy me a new dress!"

His eyes narrowed; his sharp canines bit in half the apricot with one strike.

"What does marry mean?"

"It's when two people love each other a lot and they start to live together!"

"Oh…we do the same! But without new dresses…" He looked at you, his tail swirled around. "Say, would you marry me when we get older?"

You inclined your head, confused by this question.

"But you're a monkey!"

"I know! So? Do you want to?'

"…ummm…"

You bit into the apricot again, clearly questioning if you wanted to get married in the first place.

///

The open window allowed a soft breeze to enter your room. Your small figure held the doll that your father gifted you for your birthday to help you sleep, especially since, for some reason, your sleep seemed quite disturbed and erratic.

Strange noises came from your room, alarming both of your parents and the servants.

Sometime you woke up, feeling a pair of eyes watching you. Sometimes you actually saw a figure, and every time your screams woke everyone, alerting them and making them come to you in fear.

During the day, when you were able to meet him, you told him about those nightmares, fearing what was happening in the security of your own house.

"I'm sure those are just nightmares! Who could even think to hurt you?"

And you wanted to believe him, but the truth was beyond everyone's imagination.

Your parents always told you to beware of yaoguais, especially the monkey ones.

"As simile and harmless as they look, they can be conniving and prone to lying! They have an eye for treasures and beauty, and they're ready to steal!"

But a child doesn't know better, and you thought of him as a friend. You played with him, shared snacks with him, never knew that he had a treasure in his mind all of this time, and, despite the age, he had already enough courage to try and steal it.

You wanted to be brave, a brave little girl, and, instead of screaming, that night you pointed the light of your candle closer to whatever was roaming in your room.

Your eyes met the one of your friends, occupied in preparing a bag, with your staff.

When you screamed, your parents finally met who was trying to steal you. He ran away, betrayed and in fear.

You never saw him again.

///

"And what did the fortune teller say about the date?"

"The ending of the month is a good date!"

The voices of your mother and your grandmother were just background noises in your head. Looking out of the window, your eyes fall on the old apricot orchard, with the white petals falling down like snowflakes. An inch of nostalgia and fear came back to you, remembering what memories held that place. Sitting on your chair, the breeze outside the window didn't give you the chance to be part of the discussion between your family, even if you were at the center of it.

"My child is getting married! Her father acts all grumpy about the expenses, but he's just so sad to see his princess become a bride!"

It wasn't like you didn't want to get married; to be fair, it wasn't in your mind at all, and you were mostly acceptable of the event.

Your spouse, the man who insisted with all his soul to marry you, was the child that came to you after the rumor started to spread.

The girl of the monkey, a girl that had almost been taken away from her house by a demon monkey.

The child came to you, curious about why a demon should want to take away such an ugly girl like you. You didn't know if you were ugly, but you knew that you didn't want to take that offense, and so you punched him. You two became friends; he started to play with you, allowing you to finally come out from the fear of meeting the monkey again, the fear of being captured.

You forgot about that fear…Maybe it was because you wanted it to be as far away as possible that you decided to accept marrying your childhood friend, even if, more than love, you felt for him a connection like with a brother.

Well, it wasn't like you had any friends or suitors since your background…Better accept it, you thought.

While looking at the orchard, something caught your eye, a glint, something shining between the flowers and the leaves. Strange, it wasn't the right time to tend to the trees… You tried to look better, your eyes glued on the plants, when the cranky voice of your grandmother called you back.

"Child, are you listening? "

"Uh?" You looked at her, completely spaced out. She sighed, massaging her face.

"Dear Y/N, how are you planning to be a good wife if you can't even listen to your old baba?" She smiled again, caressing your face gently. "We were talking about the decorations!"

And, by being dragged back in the discussion, you failed to notice a tail moving like a snake in the trees and the glint of a sword.

///

The smell of the powder and the incense was almost intoxicating; you had to plead with your mother to let the maiden open a window to allow some fresh air to clean the room. You were in a remote area of the house; no one could ever be able to trespass there, so why bother fearing being seen?

The red silks adorned your skin like the petals of a peony, the blue gems in your hair to symbolize the ever-l'astinenza phoenix, the crystal flowers decorating your neck and ears…

You needed to look better, the gentle ray of sun illuminating your face like no candle could even. You never were someone that proud or arrogant, but this time you had to admit it to yourself: you were standing.

You gasped; the makeup on your skin gave you an aura of elegance and refinement. It was like a princess was sitting in front of that mirror.

Your mother must have noticed that a sense of pride took over her.

"Oh…oh, my baby," her voice starting to crack, holding a handkerchief to stop the tears from ruining her makeup.

"Mom, please!"You tried to calm her down, "Don't cry!'

"Forgive me, my dear," she sighed, "it's just so much for me…"

You smiled; a sigh escaped from you. She's been crying since the news of your engagement, so overwhelmed by the fact that her little girl was now becoming the bride of a fine young man. The child that was marked as the chosen by the demon was finally getting free…

You caressed her shoulder, hugging her with fondness, looking at the maid that even she couldn't contain the happiness.

"Please," you said, trying to calm your mother, "can you take Mother to take some fresh air? I can take it from here…"

She nodded, helping your mother to stand up and leading her out of the room, closing the door behind her to give you some privacy.

You turned your face back to the mirror, smiling again at your reflection on the surface.

You were getting merry; soon you would leave the house of your parents to live with the man that promised to protect you from an old nightmare…

You felt a little bad, but you cared for him, and you knew you were holding nothing but affection towards him.

He could have asked someone else, and yet he chose you. He properly courted you… Yes, it was better like this…

You yawned a little, feeling a wave of exhaustion crashing on you all of a sudden. How strange…Well, you had woken up quite early for the preparations, and you had no time to take a pause from your big day. Sitting down in silence, the sweet smell of the incense was making you quite dizzy and sleepy.

Without even acknowledging your action, you allowed your head to repose on your arm, sustained by the wood of the vanity. You didn't plan to fall asleep, only to rest your eyes a little. You promised yourself to not ruin the dress or your makeup.

Why were you so sleepy? Was always the incense of this smell? You didn't know; you felt so tired right now.

How funny, three people in a room and no one noticed a hand from the window, pouring a strange powder in the incense burner.

You were so tired; the figure slipping in your room was probably a dream.

///

"Oh my, she looks like a goddess!"

"Is she a princess, Mama?"

"Not for us for sure!"

The giggling from the monkeys was whispers in the cavern, echoing through the walls alongside the sound of water drops and the small cascades that were born from the main stream and found passages in the mountain.

The small taunts and remarks were silenced in the ears of the now-grown monkey, far too occupied in admiring your beauty, now sleeping peacefully. Not anymore the small cub that tried several times to take you away once, too small and frail to actually do it. Now he was older, stronger, and bolder; he had found no problem in holding you in his arms, like he had found no problem in slicing the throat of the young maiden and bursting like an old pumpkin the head of your own mother.

Killing the maiden? It was precociousness; he needed no one to set an alarm when he was taking you with him on the mountain cave behind the waterfall of his homeland, but with your mother…that was personal.

He had such a hate towards your parents that he swore nothing could compare to it.

He could have accepted the fact that for some mortals, taking away their own mate could be seen in not such a good light, but he was a kid! Who could blame the ignorance of the youth?!

He was able to understand that, but it was when he had come back with his father, to discussing the proposition of letting you two get marry once you were both old enough. He was even able to accept the idea of just doing it in the mortal way, acting as a human; that was nothing if the price was having you at his side forever.

"Our daughter will never be the spouse of that monster."

Since he was a child, those words were like fire branded in his mind. It was at that time that he decided that no matter the cost, having you was his real mission. No matter what the Elder said, bringing back the old Sage was just another way to prove how your parents were wrong.

He had trained a lot, you see? He had become stronger, just to protect you. He hated the fact that your parents put so many guards near your house; he even suspected that they forced you to not set a foot in your sacred haven, the apricot orchard! Where you two met, when he had proposed the first time to marry you.

You were silent that day, but you were just shy, right?

His hands caressed your rosy cheeks, your sleeping form on the mattress of thousands of flowers to help you sleep, until at least he had done what was needed to be done.

He could have stayed there for days, admiring your innocent, relaxed face, your chest rising and falling alongside your breath, in those beautiful garments made for a bride, his bride.

But he still had some jobs to do, he told himself, sighing, holding his sword to his side and his staff in his hand.

He needed to take care of your father and to that…boy.

Since the day he started pestering, how much he wanted to rip his fingernails one by one, to pluck his eyes and tongue to make him eat them, to rip his guts from his body and strangle him with them, to make him suffer in every possible way, to try to take his beloved Y/N away from. Marry him? The thought made him sick, like he could have been even at your level! Your parents were fools to accept his proposals; they did so only to keep you two apart, of course!

But that was over; today your life as newlyweds was beginning. Kissing your forehead, he saw your sleeping body move a little. He hoped you were dreaming of him because he had dreamed of you for such a long time.

And so, after another loving glance, he started marching out of the cave, ready to make some more blood spill.

@thepoweroffiction @angryvampire @the-little-devils-chaos

@nerium-lil

@phoenixeclipse-lmkau @miifu666 @sleepingdramaqueen @whitefox2k18 @ladydoe8 @jeminiikrystal @theactualgir @birdioarts

@jssy96 @silenthopper @nezukos-number1fan

@blackknight-kai

[wisteria-lodge]

Now the last thing I want is to start beef on the internet about Snape, although I suppose that would be very 2005 of me. I like Snape. I like Snape, a lot. I just finished a 160K fanfiction where he's the only viewpoint character, I would hope I'd like him. But I'm kind of interested to see what you'd have to say to my counterpoint to your rebuttal.

You give me a couple examples of funny Snape moments from the first few books. He's absolutely funny the whole way through, I talked about how that was the *fun* of 1-3 Snape. I will say that the later books will have Snape being dry and funny-on-purpose, in a way that 1-3 really don't. Like book 3 will have a moment like:

“Fascinating,” said Snape, without looking at it.

where the humor is in the framing. but later books will constantly have him him make (dry, dark, sarcastic) on-purpose jokes.

"He'd have me!" said Bellatrix passionately. "I, who spent many years in Azkaban for him!" "Yes, indeed, most admirable," said Snape in a bored voice. "Of course, you weren't a lot of use to him in prison, but the gesture was undoubtedly fine —"

“I have already told you,” said Snape smoothly, “that I have no further stocks of Veritaserum. Unless you wish to poison Potter —and I assure you I would have the greatest sympathy with you if you did — I cannot help you.

"Crabbe, loosen your hold a little, if Longbottom suffocates it will mean a lot of tedious paperwork, and I am afraid I shall have to mention it on your reference if ever you apply for a job.”

"Yes, it is easy to see that nearly six years of magical education have not been wasted on you, Potter. Ghosts are transparent."

“You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?” Professor Umbridge asked Snape. “Yes,” said Snape quietly. “But you were unsuccessful?” Snape’s lip curled. “Obviously.”

(... and loads more. Actually it would be really fun to do a deep-dive into how Snape uses humor. The "no part of your body is allowed in Hogsmeade" - that is from book 1-3, and I think it is an on-purpose joke. But is it the only one?)

You also bring up that he brews Wolfsbane, and that's fair. "Not very many wizards are up to brewing it." But I'd say there's still a difference between 'potion teacher able to brew a difficult potion' and 'prodigy savant correcting the textbook so much that the margins look black, and inventing his own spells.' You could have set that up if you wanted, probably in the context of Harry thinking it's unfair that in Snape's class there's nothing but miles of note-taking while he's got a textbook in every other class, which would then be a set-up for when *Slughorn* starts using a textbook. I mean Book 6 is *named* after Snape's potion textbook, I don't think some set-up would be out of the question.

(My main analytical angle to approaching the books is always trying to figure out - what do I think JKR intended, vs what made it onto the page, vs what the fan interpretations are, and why they exist.)

The point that he gets Book 3 levels of emotional in Book 6, after the Worst Memory and killing Dumbledore - that is fair. He totally does, positioning Snape as guy who feels very intensely, which is cool. I think you make a very important point that Snape losing control in Book 6 is framed as *scary.* It certainly is. Which make it very different from Book 3, where it is absolutely framed as funny. A threatening character, defanged. Similar behavior, treated differently by the overall text, which is kinda my thesis here.

I do disagree that the later books push silly school stuff to the side. I think there's actually *more,* because the books are longer, and JKR really seems to like writing... quidditch team shenanigans, Hermione's ill-fated house elf-campaign, the Cormac subplot, the Lavender subplot, Harry's terrible date, the kids becoming prefects and reacting in different ways, like that's good stuff. A lot of that stuff even involves Snape, because he is a funny character - like the example I used up top of him finding ways to sabotage the Gryffindor Quidditch team like spam-booking the pitch. We are even still getting on-the-page scenes that take place during his class. It's just the narrative framing that changes, lots of little tweaks to make him less unreasonable, and less of a bully.

And the main difference between a plot twist and a ret-con is that plot twists are set up. I don't have a problem with either, but that's how it is. Like JKR is good at writing mysteries. If she wanted to, she could have dropped in a detail about James Potter early on that in retrospect seems a little iffy, but doesn't bother you at the time. She does that masterfully with Moody/Barty. If she wanted to set up the twist that Snape was actually extremely brilliant, heck I wrote the thing about making him dislike the textbook, that would have worked just fine.

Also the 'Snape stays out of a sense of duty thing' - I said that books 1-3 seem to give him a different motive for staying (wants the DADA job, which wasn't written as cursed at that point) and that motive changes in Book 4. In Book 1, Snape protecting Harry is presented as repaying a debt he feels he owes to James... which is strange in itself, when the later books are taken into context. But that's why my point is that Severus and James were both developed over the course of the books, and that development necessitated some ret-cons and clever re-framing.

And my last thing, about a sad backstory explaining vs excusing bad behavior, and what the difference is there exactly? You might have read that a million times, but I haven't. I read though your backlog of original posts trying to find the one you were referring to, and couldn't. So maybe link it, if it's around?

Since you’ve talked about Molly and Draco, can you talk about Snape as well? When you said that there was a disconnect with Snape’s character I honestly wasn’t sure if you meant the audience was supposed to like him more or less than they actually do.

This is a complicated one, because Book 1-3 Snape and Book 5-7 Snape are written so differently that I actually want to talk about them as two separate characters. 

Book 1-3 Snape… kind of sucks. Maybe he sucks in a way you find funny (which I completely get. A lot of comedy - especially British comedy - revolves around finding the humor in really *mean* people. Snape is *written* to be funny in a dry, acerbic, Roald Dahl kind of way.) But maybe Snape sucks in a way that’s not fun for you, he’s just upsetting and cruel. Either way, he’s petty, unfair, a bully, completely unreasonable, and doesn’t really appear to have any redeeming qualities. Snape protects Harry in Book 1 only because James Potter saved his life and, according to Dumbledore:  

“Professor Snape couldn’t bear being in your father’s debt. . . . I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father’s memory in peace. . . .” 

Later on, Snape’s motivation will become “Protect Harry because you couldn’t protect Lily.” But there’s no hint of that here.

I actually think it’s very likely that ‘Snape was in love with Lily’ is a plotline added during Book 4, because 1-3 Snape’s motivation is so completely focused on JAMES. He hates Harry because he looks like James, he hates James because (according to Lupin) he’s “jealous, I think, of James’s talent on the Quidditch field.” Within the context of the series it’s easy to say that Lupin is lying, and with good reason… but in the context of the first three books, I think that’s just meant to be true? Snape, as we know, is a stealth quidditch hooligan the way McGonagall is. Also… James’ characterization shifts around. He’s not a bully in the first three books, he’s Head Boy… and that Head Boy thing doesn’t quite gel with what we hear from Sirius later: 

“No one would have made me a prefect, I spent too much time in detention with James. Lupin was the good boy, he got the badge.”

(I know JKR plans things out in advance, but she absolutely does change things on the fly. Arthur Weasley not getting killed by Nagini is an easy example that we definitely know about. And come on - the entire last book is a Deathly Hallows fetch-quest. Was there really no way to slip in a reference to Beedle the Bard - or a super-powerful semi-mythical wand - anywhere in the first six books?) 

So, in books 1-3, there's no hint that Snape is a potion prodigy, particularly powerful, or even particularly clever. He wrote a logic puzzle and “knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts.” But that’s it. “Potion Master” isn’t an advanced rank, it’s just the posh British boarding school way of saying “teacher.” (Like headmaster = head teacher.) Early Snape is also a lot more *emotional* than he is later on, when his ability to “Master yourself!... control your anger, discipline your mind!” becomes extremely plot relevant. Like, can you picture 5-7 Snape (or Alan Rickman, who plays a distinctly later-books Snape) doing any of this? 

Snape was beside himself. “OUT WITH IT, POTTER!” he bellowed. “WHAT DID YOU DO?”  “Professor Snape!” shrieked Madam Pomfrey. “Control yourself!”  “See here, Snape, be reasonable,” said Fudge. “This door’s been locked, we just saw —”  “THEY HELPED HIM ESCAPE, I KNOW IT!” Snape howled, pointing at Harry and Hermione. His face was twisted; spit was flying from his mouth.  “Calm down, man!” Fudge barked. “You’re talking nonsense!”  “YOU DON’T KNOW POTTER!” shrieked Snape. “HE DID IT, I KNOW HE DID IT —”

In Movie 3, Snape gets a cool protective moment where he shoves the kids behind him during the werewolf attack. In Book 3, Snape is unconscious during the entire werewolf attack because Harry, Ron and Hermione simultaneously decide he’s too dangerous, and too much of a liability to keep around. Here are are some bangers from Book 3 Snape: 

- “Don’t ask me to fathom the way a werewolf’s mind works.”   - “KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!” Snape shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. “DON’T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!” - “Up to the castle?... I don’t think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They’ll be very pleased to see you, Black . . . pleased enough to give you a little Kiss, I daresay. . . .”  - “I’ll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the dementors will have a Kiss for him too —”

If you sort of squint you can maybe say - okay, maybe this is a PTSD response. Like I’m writing a Snape POV fic right now, you can make it work. But it’s not work the books do for you, and it’s not the characterization choice they make in the films. 

BUT. Snape goes through a little bit of a revamp/retcon in Book 4. It’s totally deliberate - he’s Book 1-3 Snape at the beginning, then he basically vanishes from the narrative… the reader kind of forgets about him…  until it comes up during Karkaroff’s trial that Dumbledore ABSOLUTELY trusts him, even though he was a Death Eater. So now when Snape turns up at the climax - he’s a figure of intrigue, and it makes sense that he’s one of the two people Dumbledore brings with him to deal with Barty. Honestly, it’s a pretty cool magic trick. We buy it when - instead of hissing and spitting and hopping around like he does when he confronts Fudge at the end of Book 3 - Book 4 Snape deals with Fudge like this: 

Snape strode forward… pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He stuck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled.  “There,” said Snape harshly. “There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. (...) This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff’s too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord’s vengeance.”

Calm, collected, focused. This is a character who you’re supposed to take seriously, a character who you are supposed to respect. 

I think it’s very interesting that after Book 4, we don’t see Snape *bully* the students during class again. He’s strict, and he’s a hard grader, and Harry still thinks he’s unfair, but like… the narrative framing is on his side now. 

“Tell me, Potter,” said Snape softly, “can you read?”  Draco Malfoy laughed.  “Yes, I can,” said Harry, his fingers clenched tightly around his wand.  “Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter.”  Harry squinted at the blackboard(… ) His heart sank. He had not added syrup of hellebore, but had proceeded straight to the fourth line of the instructions after allowing his potion to simmer for seven minutes.  “Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?” “No,” said Harry very quietly.  “I beg your pardon?” “No,” said Harry, more loudly. “I forgot the hellebore...”  “I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesco.” The contents of Harry’s potion vanished; he was left standing foolishly beside an empty cauldron. “Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name, and bring it up to my desk for testing.” (...)  “That was really unfair,” said Hermione consolingly, sitting down next to Harry  (...) “Yeah, well,” said Harry, glowering at his plate, “since when has Snape ever been fair to me?”

Like he isn’t nice, but he also isn’t asking Harry questions he can’t possibly know the answers to, threatening to kill someone’s pet, or calling Hermione ugly. He didn’t even take away house points. And - during the next lesson, we are told that the approach Snape took with Harry actually worked?

Determined not to give Snape an excuse to fail him this lesson, Harry read and reread every line of the instructions on the blackboard at least three times before acting on them. His Strengthening Solution was not precisely the clear turquoise shade of Hermione’s but it was at least blue rather than pink, like Neville’s, and he delivered a flask of it to Snape’s desk at the end of the lesson with a feeling of mingled defiance and relief. 

I want to do one more close read, on a excerpt from Book 5: 

Harry realized how much Professor McGonagall cared about beating Slytherin when she abstained from giving them homework in the week leading up to the match. (...)  Nobody could quite believe their ears until she looked directly at Harry and Ron and said grimly, “I’ve become accustomed to seeing the Quidditch Cup in my study, boys, and I really don’t want to have to hand it over to Professor Snape, so use the extra time to practice, won’t you?” Snape was no less obviously partisan: He had booked the Quidditch pitch for Slytherin practice so often that the Gryffindors had difficulty getting on it to play. He was also turning a deaf ear to the many reports of Slytherin attempts to hex Gryffindor players in the corridors. When Alicia Spinnet turned up in the hospital wing with her eyebrows growing so thick and fast that they obscured her vision and obstructed her mouth, Snape insisted that she must have attempted a Hair-Thickening Charm on herself and refused to listen to the fourteen eyewitnesses who insisted that they had seen the Slytherin Keeper, Miles Bletchley, hit her from behind with a jinx.

This has a very similar structure to the sequence when Snape refuses to punish Draco for enlarging Hermione’s teeth. Slytherins and Gryffindors having an altercation, Gryffindor girl gets caught in the crossfire. BUT a few key things have been changed. One - the section is told in second-hand narration, which makes it less emotional than the teeth-scene. Two - the section begins with comparing Snape to McGonagall: she’s being biased/helping out her students too, so it’s only fair if he does it as well. Three - his insult isn’t “Your face has always looked like that,” it’s “You must have messed up a spell,” which is a lot less personal, and a lot less mean. (If anything, Snape is subtly insulting her for casting a cosmetic charm/being too girly… and being a girly-girl is an inherently suspect characteristic in JKR’s world.) Everything about this passage is set up to create a “Snape the Bully” moment… that kind of excuses Snape. 

So, what do we have? There are the people that think Book 1-3 Snape just went too far, and you can soften the narrative framing around him, and you can add in as many tragic backstories as you want, and it doesn’t really matter. THAT is definitely not what JKR wants you to think. She wants to bring you along for the ride, and (as you can tell from the framing) she's started to like Snape a lot.

HOWEVER. I do not think that the fan who likes 5-7 Alan Rickman Snape is… quite seeing the same thing she is. I get the sense that in the text, Snape’s tragic backstory is not meant to *explain* his bad behavior so much as it is meant to *excuse* it. He stays mean and bad-tempered… but he’s allowed to be, both because he is always acting in service to a Good Cause, and because he was abused at home, bullied at school, etc. A big part of why I think JKR likes writing Snape so much (and why she’s so protective of him) is because she finds something cathartic in letting a character be nasty… but for it to be allowed because they’ve suffered, and also because they're in the right. Sadly I think this describes a lot of her current online interactions. 

JKR also loves the idea of *pining.* (It is crazy how long the main characters’ pining/longing/will-they-won’t-they thing in the Cormoran Strike books has lasted.) It’s a very safe kind of romance, and (again, sadly) you can tell from her writing that romance is not generally something that feels safe to her. Snape is sometimes characterized by those who dislike the character as an incel-type who wants to possess Lily, and I just don’t think that’s in the text. If anything it’s the other way around. Snape has some unconsummated, medieval courtly love thing going on, where he has decided to live his life in Lily’s service. 

I wrote about why I think Draco Malfoy (unintentionally) appeals to fans. With Snape…  I actually think a lot of his current (unintentional) appeal comes from the way a softer Snape reframes the narrative into something more complex, and especially the way it reframes Dumbledore. Manipulative/Morally Grey Dumbledore is a *very* popular fan interpretation, and the way you get that is with a sympathetic Severus Snape. 

“You disgust me,” said Dumbledore, and Harry had never heard so much contempt in his voice. Snape seemed to shrink a little. (...)  “Hide them all, then,” he croaked. “Keep her — them — safe. Please.”  “And what will you give me in return, Severus?”  “In — in return?” Snape gaped at Dumbledore, and Harry expected him to protest, but after a long moment he said, “Anything.”

The implications here are really far reaching. Because to me, the main question when it comes to Snape is - why does he STAY at Hogwarts? He clearly hates it, why doesn’t he just leave? If you’re talking about 1-3 Snape, it's because he’s eternally holding out for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, and he’s just kind of a twisted miserable guy who would probably be equally miserable everywhere. 

But books 5-7 add the context that he’s brilliant, he’s brave, he’s principled, he’s got a sense of humor. He seems close with the Malfoys. He has *options.* So now the (unintended?) implication is… he doesn’t leave because Dumbledore won’t let him. The fact that he keeps applying for the DADA job becomes dark and borderline suicidal when we learn it’s cursed, and that Snape knows it’s cursed. If he takes it, he’ll leave (or die) at the end of the year. That means, every year, he’s tacitly asking Dumbledore “Can I leave?” And Dumbledore is answering “No.” 

That’s such an interesting, juicy character dynamic. Snape is being kept miserable on purpose because… he’s easier to control that way? And if that’s true… then oh boy is it sinister that Dumbledore left Harry with the Dursleys. He knew he was raising Harry “like a pig for slaughter” (as Snape puts it.) And if Harry doesn’t have a support system, if he’s miserable, if Dumbledore can swoop in as his savior… then doesn’t that make him so much easier to control? 

[theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming]

Nicole Reads A Lot of Fanfiction (and she's gonna share it with you): Week 8

Weeks [1] [2] [3] [4/5/6] [7]

Hello this weeks fic reading brought to you by the fact that I haven't "worked" since 2/18. Anyway.. if you notice a sudden trend in the Sterek fics I'm not sure what to say. I tripped into the "Firefighter Derek Hale" tag and haven't seen the light of day since oops.

Buddie: 14 Sterek: 15

that timelines chat by disasterbuck, Veronae | @disasterbuck | @veronae-buddie (2025•T•32.6K)

On a seemingly ordinary night in 2022, Buck receives a text from what he assumes is a wrong number and goes along with it for lack of anything better to do. But it quickly becomes evident that nothing about this night is ordinary, as he finds himself texting an Eddie Diaz five years in the past, before he's moved to LA and joined the 118. What happens during the next twenty-four hours will change Buck's and Eddie's lives forever. Eddie: like I said, I just wanted to update my phone Eddie: maybe I did something to it 👀 Buck: of course YOU would try to update your phone and end up texting the future 🤣 Eddie: hey! Buck: technology really doesn’t like you, does it? Buck: 😇

Was I even on your way? by rangerdanger (mxgicxltrxgedy) | @call-me-medusa (2025•M•3K)

A soft knock starts on the door. “Buck?” It’s Eddie. Of course it’s Eddie. “Are you feeling okay?” Buck feels like he’s going to throw up. “No." “Can I come in?” Buck closes his eyes. He tries to take another deep breath, trying to remind himself he’s in Eddie’s bathroom, in Eddie’s house, probably the safest place he’s ever been in L.A, and that he’s not in an office trying to talk about a kid’s death. He scoots closer to the toilet, resting his back on the edge of the tub, “Yeah.” - Or, Buck gets reminded of something that happened he'd rather forget.

come ride on me (i mean camaraderie) by heygirltimeformorning | @heygirltimeformorning (2025•E•4.5K)

“Eddie, this isn’t -- casual for me,” Buck says finally, like he’s cutting the wires to a bomb. “I can’t -- I don’t do casual anymore.” He looks up at Eddie, open and bleeding, totally disarmed. He’s the most beautiful thing Eddie’s ever seen. Buck takes a breath, looks down, shakes his head. “I mean,” he says, “I can’t do casual with you.” “Who,” Eddie asks, very quietly, “said anything about casual?”

Cheeseburger in Paradise by Bookworm0303 | @insertlovelyperson (2025•E•20.2K)

“Swingers,” Buck gasped, eyes wide and mouth agape, “Eddie, they’re swingers.” Immediately, Eddie blanked, fork clattering against his dish as he ran through every possible way he could try to deny it. More or less recovered, he eventually shook his head and laughed, “What? No. No, they’re not.” “Yes,” the other gritted out, frantically gesturing back at the two couples at the bar, “they are.” Turning in his seat, Eddie watched as the pair of husbands quite literally swapped wives, getting rather cozy with their new partner for the evening. And... ok, damn. Sure. Clearing his throat as he turned back around, he was willing to make a partial concession, “Ok. Fine. Maybe those four are, but—” That’s when Buck got to pointing: “And them. And them. And definitely them.” Each assessment more damning than the last. --- or Eddie plans a vacation for the first (and likely last) time in his life.

Second date update by kyote_ugly | @kyoteugly (2025•T•1.9K)

The story takes place between the 1st and 2nd seasons, different first meeting. Buck's friends convince him to go on a blind date to get over Abby, and Eddie, well, Eddie is training to be a firefighter - he's divorced, new in town, and of course his friend from the academy wants to help him navigate the LA dating scene. And you, my dear reader, you're sitting in traffic on your way to work, listening to the radio...

The Blondie Theory by facewithoutheart | @facewithoutheart (2025•T•5.7K)

Grace hates running into people from high school. But she always kind of wondered about Eddie Diaz. So when Eddie moves back to El Paso, Grace finally gets a chance to prove a theory, make a new friend, meet her long distance girlfriend, and end a ship war. AKA 5 times Grace Matthews runs into her former classmate, Eddie Diaz, and 1 time she runs into one of those two nurses, Evan Buckley.

do you believe in magic? by Tizniz | @tizniz (2025•GA•5.6K)

Buck’s magic has been infatuated with Eddie since the moment Buck laid eyes on the man. It didn’t matter that Buck himself had less than pleasant feelings towards Eddie, his magic decided that Eddie was the love of its life and it was going to do anything it could to be near him. This went against Buck’s own feelings because of the whole not liking Eddie for exactly two days and also because Buck has always been told to keep his magic a secret.

reeling with the feeling by dykeries | @buddiesbian (2025•E•3.7K)

“We are not calling 911.” Eddie groans into Buck’s shoulder. “I don’t want to either. But I think we have to.” Buck shakes his head and then regrets it. He’s like, eighty percent sure there’s a bleeding cut on the back of his head and he’s gotten blood on the shower tile. “We’ll figure something else out.” “Like what?” Eddie tries to shift his weight off Buck again and immediately flops back down. “Ugh.” “I don’t know. Dying here. We had a pretty good run.” “They’ll put it on our tombstone,” Eddie says mournfully. “Here lie Buck and Eddie: too old for shower sex.” “Aw, babe,” Buck says, oddly touched. “You’d want a joint tombstone?”

No one can ever know about this. Except for Hen.

Eddie and the bee-tee-dubs by telldebatz | @singitforthegirls (2025•GA•1.6K)

Eddie didn't expect this once he got back from Texas with Chris, but somehow, he's not that surprised either. Buck acquires a cat in Eddie's absence, which is fine, but it shares Eddie's name, and that might become a problem. (It's a short, cute fic about Buddie and a cat. Enjoy.)

Inside Keeps Building by Minalover | @minalover (2024•E•34.4K)

"“My luggage got delayed coming in from Phoenix but it should be in tomorrow.” Eddie is, of course, not fine. He hasn’t been fine since he left for El Paso yesterday. He suspects he wasn’t fine long before that, but he was able to keep it beaten back with a stick. Not so much anymore. “That sucks.” They’ve been different since Eddie made the decision to move to El Paso a few weeks back. He could have sworn Buck was okay. He was okay in the kitchen that day, when he flipped the iPad over and unearthed Eddie’s tender familial burns. He was okay on the couch, the couch Eddie had to leave behind, the couch he mourns for reasons too complicated to think about. He was okay on the virtual call with the real estate agent. He was okay. They were okay. “Yeah, it really does. All of my underwear was in that luggage.” They don’t feel okay." or: Eddie follows Christopher to El Paso or or: the sexting fic I promised myself

i wanna feel you from the inside by shortndiaz (2025•E•4.2K)

Starts with ‘wanna go for the title?’ and ends in some blood and sex

Feeding by pickdotter (2025•E•2.4K)

Everything needs sustenance; matter, weaving into movement. Hunger is a passion for life. Eddie hungers, while Buck’s pulse thumps with it, blood. *** Vampire!Eddie shows up at Buck's front door.

forever is the sweetest con by becausebuckley | @becausebuckley (2025•E•37.9K)

“Buck,” Eddie says, a small smile curving at the edge of his mouth, “wanna get married? For our honeymoon, we’ll scam your parents out of some money and make Ravi’s accountant do our taxes.” “Well,” Buck says drily, “that sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.” “I’m sorry,” Eddie says, in his very best – meaning very bad – impression of Buck when he gets his hands on a clipboard. “What was that?” “Yes, Eddie,” Buck says, putting on an air of suffering despite the butterflies making themselves at home in his stomach. Man, whoever Eddie ends up proposing to for realsies is gonna be so lucky. “I’ll marry you.” or: buck is invited to a family reunion and realises that there's a good chunk of money waiting for him. there’s one issue, though: he has to be married to claim it, and right now, he’s painfully single. it’s a good thing he has such a great best friend in eddie, right?

H-E-A-T-A/B/O: A Buddie Anthology by Bucksbelly (drarryweasley) | @bucksbelly [WIP] (2025•E•41.2K)

An anthology of Buddie one-shots based in omegaverse settings. These stories are NOT connected; they each have slightly different lore and can be read in any order!Brought to you by I wanted to write my favorite trope but couldn't decide how to do it so I wrote a bunch of them

I don't want the world, but I'll take this city (2025•E•9.5K)

"Let. Him. Go." Eddie demands, deathly still so he doesn't pounce. "Why? Because he smells like yours?" The second prisoner taunts. "I bet you haven't even told him yet." "Told me what?" Buck snaps, slightly breathless. At least he's not choking. "Come on, Dom, stop fucking around," Mitchell agrees, rolling his eyes at the display. "We're on the clock, here." But Dom hasn't taken his gaze off of Eddie, and vice versa. His smirk grows. "You'll thank me for this one day," he says, and before anyone can move, he sinks his teeth into Buck's neck.

Thank You by JoMouse | @josjournal (2019•T•12.3K)

Stiles is a firefighter with BHFD Ladder 30. He hates the new guy...until he doesn't. For Sterek Week 2019 Scene Stealers - basically Sterek as Buddie from 9-1-1.

Anchoring by rororowyourboat | @rosieposiepuddingnpie (2025•T•3.1K)

Stiles is Derek's anchor, but Derek deserves so much more than one person as an anchor. Stiles decides to help Derek find joy in life again.

Champagne Problems by fairytalesandfolklore | @fairytales-and-folklore (2021•T•1.7K)

Stiles has got champagne problems. No, really. He's had way too many mimosas. A game of tipsy truth or dare at a New Year's Eve pack party ends with Stiles accidentally blurting out that he's in love with Derek…right in front of the sourwolf himself.

"Alright, fine," Erica simpers. "I dare you to tell us who you've got a crush on." "Because we all know there's someone," Lydia insists, giving him a pointed look. "Someone you've clearly been pining after for years now," Danny agrees. "So just come clean, Stilinski. Tell us who it is." Stiles, who is absolutely smashed off his ass at this point in the game, rolls his eyes so hard he sees stars. "Nice try, assholes," he teases with a sing-song lilt and a self-satisfied smile. "But there's no way in hell I'm ever gonna tell you I'm in love with Derek, so you can just—" Somewhere in the distance, a champagne flute shatters, and suddenly, Derek is just there, looming in the distance, eyebrows arched so high they practically straddle his hairline.

nonchalant about your own mortality by honestlydarkprincess | @honestlydarkprincess (2025•T•1.1K)

Derek gets hurt after sacrificing himself for the pack yet again and Stiles is angry about it.

He's Not Mine by Sunnee (2013•E•68.5K)

Derek comes home to find an abandoned werebaby on his front porch and Stiles volunteers to help him out. Surprisingly, that is just the beginning of his problems.

Stuck on Repeat by pyrrhical (anoyo) | @approximatelytrue (2017•M•77.2K)

Twelve years after leaving Beacon Hills, and everything it represented, Stiles is a well-respected analyst at the CIA. Unfortunately, life likes its irony, and Stiles finds his pretty fabulous CIA career turned on its side when an asset-turned-mark turns out to be a little less than human.

can't be trusted to treasure your heart like i do by honestlydarkprincess | @honestlydarkprincess (2025•T•1.3K)

Derek chases after Stiles and they make up.

Safe by Hedwig221b | @hedwig221b (2023•NR•976)

“Where is he?” Stiles rumbled, glancing at each member of the pack in front of him, before settling his incinerating gaze on one person he once considered a brother. “Tell me, Scott, where is my husband?”

The Faded Line by GrimReaperlover11 (2022•T•31K)

Stiles sometimes hated being an omega, always being treated like the low man on the totem pole. His ideology is only proven to be correct one night on his way home from a night out with Scott when an alpha tries to take advantage of him. however before he can be defiled, he finds a savior in another alpha, one that has his omega howling with want. when his hero takes him home and cares for him, Stiles doesn't want him to leave. Maybe he won't.

The Outstation by CabbageOriley (2020•GA•23K)

Stiles is the newest hire at the Beacon Hills Fire Department. What will happen when he gets stationed at the outstation referred to as the Hale Hole? He's going to die, that's what. He's going to die and… fall in love?

this loving could save me by hot_damn_louis | @bisexualagenda (2020•NR•16.9K)

“Someone put shaving cream in my helmet again,” Derek growled, his arms tense. “And who could that be?” Stiles asked, feigning innocence. He elbowed Derek playfully as he half jogged over to the rig, hopping into the passenger seat. aka Stiles and Derek have been working in the same firehouse for a while, and they might be a little more obvious about their feelings than they think.

Emergency Love by Kedreeva | @kedreeva (2012•E•13.5K)

Wherein Derek is a firefighter and Stiles is a paramedic, and they just keep meeting.

stop, drop, and roll by thepsychicclam | @thepsychicclam (2014•M•12.2K)

Stiles knows he's in trouble when he invites the Beacon Hills Fire Department into his third grade classroom and he can't stop staring at a certain scruffy fireman. But after the third graders take a field trip to the fire station and participate in the fire department's holiday canned food drive, Stiles can't ignore his crush any longer.

a glimpse of you and me by Winchesterek | @sterekbros (2023•E•12.1K)

“You write about soulmates?” Derek asked, sounding curious as he leaned in. “I didn't know there was a market for children’s books about that.” “Yeah, it’s starting to pick up traction the last few years. I know there weren't many books like this when I was a kid, but maybe things would’ve been different if there had been.” Stiles shrugged. Then he paused, wetting his lips as he tried to control his breathing. “Do…you believe in soulmates?”

A drag queen and a cop walk into an apartment building... by DropsOfAddiction (2020•E•16.4K)

Stiles tries not to whimper as Derek gets closer. Stiles had forgotten just how intense space invader Derek could be. If Derek was boner inducing when Stiles knew him before, equal parts terrifying and sexy, back at the age of twenty four, well... it’s not a patch on what thirty year old Derek’s got going for him. Derek’s still got a stupid leather jacket and his black hair is slightly longer than Stiles remembers. The stubble is longer too, not quite a beard but still neatly shaped in a way that makes his cheekbones stand out. And the eyes, shit, the eyes. He’s staring at Stiles with this stormy mix of grey, blue and about a thousand other colours thrown in and Stiles couldn’t break eye contact if he wanted to. Derek fucking Hale, ladies and gentlemen.

[nthewriter]

(Sorry I had writer block ;-; please be advised this chapter can be uncomfortable to read, it's angsty)

Being Simon's long lost biological child

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 (you are here!)

"Did you seriously search "how to be a good dad"?" Johnny asked with an arched eyebrow, looking at the computer.

"Better late than nothing."

"Si, honey, I think that's more of an instinct thingy."

"My only instincts are to kill and to protect." Simon groaned, head back in annoyance. "I am really trying, Johnny."

"I know." He felt the other man's hands on his shoulders massaging him. "It's been a few weeks now. We could... have a family lunch? Could cook something, and they often eat alone in their room."

"You're an angel. You know that?"

Simon genuinely tried to be a good father. It was just... hard. Too hard sometimes. He drove (Y/N) to their therapy sessions twice a week, waited for them, tried to remember things they liked to which they would reply "I am not five anymore dad!". Well, at least they recognised him as their father. Which was good, he guessed.

Johnny had always been a good cook, that’s what he had found out after starting to live with the Scottish man. He always had cookbooks everywhere, freshly and neatly aligned by categories. Ever since he had been lightly discharged from the army, Johnny has been trying out all kinds of cooking, even once cooking something with dry insects. Simon still remembered trying to smile and to tell his beloved he was liking it.

Simon dressed up the table nicely. He wanted to make sure that (Y/N) felt included, welcomed… loved. He did feel like an asshole for not trying to step up earlier. It would have avoided all this mess. It would have surely prevented Elsie's death. It would have prevented his child from being turned into a mindless killer who worshiped Vladimir Makarov like a saint.

They came out the bedroom, footsteps light but Simon could hear them coming down the stairs. When he looked up, he found his child staring back at him with a frown.

“What's the occasion?”

“We thought we could have a family dinner tonight. You, me, Soap.” He jerked with his head toward the kitchen. Simon usually used his partner's callsign as a pet name.

“I'm not hungry.”

“You better be. He spent the whole afternoon in the kitchen trying to find something that will please you.” There he went with his aggressive and harsh tone. He tried to calm and ground himself. “Listen- I just- Johnny just wanted to spend some time with you.”

“So we can pretend everything is okay? That we are a perfect little family?” (Y/N) replied, mimicking his aggressive tone.

“Yes. Just for once. Please.” Simon begged as he moved and awkwardly clasped their shoulder. He squeezed it lightly.

“Fine.”

The evening went on quietly. Simon put on some light music, trying to make the atmosphere less tense. He had cleaned up a little, trying to look good. His eyes wandered to his child who took a few bites off the food Johnny had prepared.

“It's good?” Johnny asked the kid.

“Yeah.”

They often spoke few words when they were around the couple. Simon felt bad, he wanted to include them into the family. So he tried to make conversation.

“Doctor Fonda said you were making a lot of efforts. That's nice. I am proud of you.”

“Proud of what? Of me “seeing things your way”?” They spoke aggressively.

“No- I meant-”

“Meant what?” They glared at him across the table. And the man felt a white hot rage rising in his body. Couldn’t they see he was trying?! Trying to be a better father?!

“Simon, calm down.” Johnny put his hand on his partner's under the table.

“I'm calm.”

“Speak to yourself, old man. Sounds like you have seen a ghost or something.” They grinned, continuing to fuel his rage. “What? Do I look like mom? How did you feel when she died after you left her to rot all alone?”

“I didn't leave her! You're making me sound bad.” Simon growled, slowly standing up. And his kid stood too.

“Because you're trying to play the hero, again, when in reality you're just a freaking loser! She died because of you!”

“And you should have died with her! That will save me a bunch of problems!” Simon roared back. “I didn't want you in the first fucking place! I wish she had aborted you like I begged her in the first place.”

Then, silence. Complete silence. (Y/N) stomped back to their room, slamming the door. The dinner was cold. Simon sighed and put a hand through his hair. He had fucked up. Again. He had said things he didn't mean to say. Or perhaps… and it was the worst, he meant them.

Turning to Johnny, he tried to apologise. But the other man just groaned something under his breath, clearly annoyed at him.

“The dishes need to be done.” Johnny spoke with an emotionless voice as he grabbed the half empty plate.

Simon sat back into his chair. He wasn't a good father. But he was a good destroyer.

[sossegato]

There definitely is an anti-black vein to the small, barely noticeable 'acceptance' of barefaced women in media.

When Alicia Keys did it 10 years ago the reaction was so virulent she circled back into launching a fucking makeup line.

And a LOT of that was not media, it was THIS people, who bullied her so hard for foregoing the performance of gender expected of her and how it reflected on them.

Look what you dumbasses did:

She went from this:

"“I went through my own experience of really feeling rebellious about what people were telling me, what the world, society was telling me, what I was supposed to look like because I fell into that, I subscribed to it,” the 42-year-old singer said of her decision to stop wearing cosmetics."

To this:

"The songstress continued that she felt that focusing on how “you want to express yourself, and what space do you want to claim for yourself” was a major step in her growth"

Is that fucking familiar?

Yeah, there's 10 years in between Alicia and Pamela but let's not kid ourselves that it's a coincidence a white woman kick started the half-assed, foot dragging public acceptance. (I'm happy for her though! It's an older woman too).

And what's the point of lefties perfunctorily criticising the masculinisation of black women by white people if they're gonna DO IT THEMSELVES in the very next second comparing black women to males?

This is this absolute craziest take I have ever heard... In 2025, women cannot go barefaced because it invalidates trans women's existences. And because of that for some reason, Black women aren't real women; they're men!

[yanderedrabbles]

hey,

you've probably answered this before and I just haven't seen or read it yet. But, why do you hate pregnancies and babies so much? lol i love ur stories and u dont need to answer this, but im curious and wanted a more specified answer

seriously long rant under the line:

I'll be the first to admit it, I'm not a maternal person. I don't like kids. They're loud, they're sticky, they're overwhelming. I don't know how to talk to them without feeling idiotic and fake. I just... stay away from them as much as I can. Little cousins? Nieces and nephews? They probably know me as the relative who'll offer them some sweets and then dissappear.

Babies are especially bad. I don't really find them cute or endearing. Whenever I'm around one, I'm always terrified of messing up somehow and hurting them. Even if I'm like all the way across the room. I have such an admiration for parents but I know myself and I know I absolutely can't handle a baby.

I'm a person who gets overwhelmed and angry pretty easily. I try really hard to work on it, but that's not the sort of personality that goes well with kids. What am I, a deadbeat dad that makes people flinch with every sudden move? No thank you.

Pregnancy has always been particularly disturbing to me. Whenever I think of myself in that role, I feel this kind of visceral disgust. It feels parasitic. It feels like a leech in my body. It makes me want to claw at my stomach and get it out.

And don't take this as me hating on kids and pregnancy in other people. It's just when I apply it to myself, I can't help the way I feel. It's instinctive. And it's been this way my whole life.

I think as a society we think of marriage and kids as the default, the expected path. Whenever I tell people I'm never doing either, I'm always met with the "You'll change your mind someday!" I won't, I promise you.

I take issue with it. I feel like we should consider things a lot more before starting a family. A child is such a huge commitment, a life you'll be responsible for in every way. I feel like I see a lot of patents who might have been happier without kids.

I don't ever want to be like that. I don't ever want a kid to feel for a second that I regret them. I'd rather just not have one at all.

Anyway, some people just don't want that kind of life. I'm one of them. I've never once felt the urge or ever had the fantasy about a family, about being a mother. I have other goals for myself, another path to take.

I have the utmost respect for parents. Like I said, it's a terrifying, exhausting job. And one I'm never going to do.

[lillaydee]

Shhh!!! Part 5

Celebrity!Joel Miller / F Reader

A reluctant celebrity contractor who has closed his heart for love meets a celebrity-hating Cafe on Wheels owner...

She HATES him. Thing is, he couldn't get enough of the coffee she makes...

Tag List:

@kirsteng42 @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @joelalorian @vickie5446 @inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @brittmb115 @peedrow @lovefreylove @liciafonseca

Let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the tag list.

Dividers by the awesome @saradika

Header by Moi cause I learned how to use Canva! Yay me!

WARNINGS: Grumpy Joel (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Celebrity Joel Miller, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy.

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 4

“Here you go, Sir, enjoy your coffee, come again soon!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the exasperated sigh that escaped him after the last cup was handed to the last customer, an older man who wouldn’t stop asking him questions about which caulk was best to use for the small project he was DIY-ing. Joel must’ve extended his hand with the coffee in it towards him five times before the man finally took it, very quickly flipping the ‘open’ sign to close before plopping himself on the lone stool you had offered him before.

“How do you do this every day? My jaw, my cheeks are killing me feom smiling too much! And don’t even ask about my back!” he rubbed his face, massaging his jaw and cheeks with both hands, cracking his back and neck a few times.

“Don’t you hammer things for a living? I can’t do that to save my own life!”

“Pfft… I don’t do all that anymore. People do that for me. I just tell people what to do.” There was a look on his face when he said that. A longing one, perhaps?

“You’re telling me you would’ve been okay doing that on your own if I hadn’t stayed?”

You nodded, hands busy cleaning the machine, running hot water out to clean it of any residue.

He got back up, “Can I do anything to help?”

“Oh, no, you are not touching my very expensive machine, sir.”

“How do you keep the truck safe? Aren’t you worried someone might break in, steal the machine?”

“My apartment has very good security, so does the truck. I made sure to invest in that.”

“Where do you live?”

You told him, and he just whistled. He threw the rag on the counter, asking you if he could buy you lunch.

“Taco truck, next door. Tell Tony it’s for me.”

He tipped his hat at you, leaving to get the tacos.

You finished cleaning, wiping everything down, taking not much time at all. You’ve done this daily for a long time, it was all on autopilot. By the time you rinsed all the rags, Joel was back, bags of tacos in hand, asking you if you would join him for lunch. The two of you ate and chatted, mainly about the tacos, but also about the rec centre itself. Sarah had been here a lot, volunteering. Ellie too, obviously. But he had only dropped them off and picked them up. You suggested he should visit. They do amazing work with underprivileged kids. He looked as if he was genuinely contemplating it.

“I have to apologize for something else now,” he told you, wiping his mouth after everything was demolished. “I never knew selling coffee could be that tiring. I don’t know why. But that was…” he stopped talking, rubbing his own shoulder and neck. “And how the heck do you keep a smile on at all times like that? I watched you. You are always smiling when talking to the customers. How do you do that?”

You shrugged, “Been doing this since I can remember. My Dad didn’t have a helper early on, so he would keep me in a sling across his chest as he served his customers. I just grew up in a café, smiled at customers since I could. A smile goes a long way when you’re in service. It was something my Dad did a lot, so I sort of just caught the habit, I guess.”

“Your Dad was a barista too? Which café?”

You told him. He nodded. There were a few of those cafés all over LA. He had even seen them in New York.

“You’ve always worked in cafés?”

“Yeah… since I was old enough to know you shouldn’t touch boiling water with your bare hands.”

He looked taken aback. “Isn’t that child labour or something?”

You laughed. “He didn’t hire me, exactly, he just let me help. Learn the ropes.”

“Is he retired now?”

“He did a few years back. Passed not long after.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. He’s still with me. That’s why my stepmom and I started the truck. He loved his job. I feel like he’s here whenever I make a cup, you know?”

He nodded. “It’s why I started building in the first place. My Papa was a labourer slash carpenter. He practically built all of our furniture. He helped me build my first project – a small recipe box for my Mama. Been building stuff since. I did the TV stuff at first for the steady income, you know? I was alone, I had to think about Sarah, and then when everything blew up it just got so… invasive. Fake. It’s all about the viewership. No one gives a damn about the work anymore. It’s just… I don’t know. Doing this job used to make me feel closer to my Papa, but now… I just feel like my life has turned into a circus, you know? Everything’s just hyped. Sexualized. I don’t get the same rush I used to get from doing this work anymore. I just dread going to work now. The more exposure, the more invasion there will be, the less close I feel to my Papa.”

You listened, feeling a bit sad for him.

“That’s why I was so rude to you that first time. I didn’t mean to be, you know, I’m so sorry about that. It’s just, every time a stranger taps me on my shoulder it’s to ask for a selfie or something. You saw that girl the other day. She just leaned in, right up against my chest and snapped a picture. No respect for my personal space at all. I was literally standing at a urinal once and someone just whipped their phone out to take a picture with me.”

Your eyes literally went round with shock. Seriously? Okay, that was so much worse than being sent to some organic store to buy a packet of sugar for one teaspoon, or even counting 100 drips of espresso, for that matter.

“So when you tapped me on my shoulder…”

You nodded, hand still over your mouth, seeing his point of view. You already knew this, Ellie had told you. But when it came from the horse’s mouth… particularly Joel, who you had only seen as a grumpy, moody, seemingly entitled man, looking extremely uncomfortable at the mere mention of these happenings, you sort of get it.

“God, Joel…” you rubbed your face, cringing a little at how much you had judged him. “I’m sorry too… I just… having lived here all my life, I’ve met all kinds of celebrities, you know? Most are actually nice… but the ones who are not…”

It was his turn to nod. “Tell me about it. I have to work with some sometimes – for special episodes. God… the entitlement!”

You rolled your eyes.

“I know, right? ‘I’m famous, I don’t need to pay.’ Girl…”

He laughed as you sneered, copying said celebrity so well he actually recognized who you were talking about, head thrown back, free, loose, relaxed.

“Hey, I have a question for you,” he said, leaning on the small foldable table you set out front. “Where do you get your beans? That coffee… how is it bitter but sweet at the same time?”

You zipped your mouth, locked it, and threw away the key.

“Oh, come on…”

“Nope. Trade secret, that. Passed down to me by my father, and I am never sharing it!”

“You mean, you roast your own beans?”

“Of course I do! What do you take me for, Joel Miller?”

He looked impressed. “Will you sell me a bag?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, come on! I’ll pay anything!”

“Careful what you wish for. If I can charge you 40 bucks for a cup of coffee, just imagine what I would charge for a whole bag of beans,” you joked, getting up to throw the paper plate out, wiping the table with your free hand as you did.

He got up and began helping you fold the chairs and tables, loading them in the cargo space under the sill. You closed everything up, handed him the mill he brought, and got into the driver seat of your truck. He waited for you to get in and closed the door for you.

“It was nice spending time with you today, Mr Miller. Thank you for helping me out, and for lunch. Should I pay you now, or should I just give Ellie a raise?”

He smiled, his dimple showing, and shook his head. “I’ll tell you tomorrow, when I come for my cuppa. Since you won’t sell the beans to me.”

You laughed and thanked him again for helping you out that day. You turned to him one last time and gave him a smile. Joel’s heart stopped beating. There was something different about that smile, he thought. It wasn’t the smile you gave your customers.

He took a step back from the truck and raised his free hand, standing in that spot until your truck turned the corner and went out of his sight, the mill he brought held tightly to his chest.

Joel Miller drove all the way home before realizing that he hadn’t stopped smiling at all since you left.

“So, the plan was successful?” Sarah asked, painting her toenail as she spoke into the phone propped on a box she had packed and unpacked for the millionth time.

“Well, he went, left at seven-ish and he hasn’t come back, so I’m just waiting with breath that is bated. God just don’t come back angrier, that’s all I’m hoping for,” Ellie shoved another mouthful of chips into her mouth, cringing a little at the vinegary taste.

“I still can’t believe he yelled at Lil. Of all people! You know Lil hates celebrities? Tony told me. One came to the rec centre once, apparently for some supposed volunteer thing for his community service, the guy made a scene, obviously high from something – climbed into her truck started snacking on coffee beans like nuts – Tony swore Lil chased him out with an airgun. I’m just thankful all she did was overcharge Dad for coffee and not tear his face off or something.”

Ellie snorted, “Imagine how mad Angela would be if that were to happen. Money making face and all...”

“I don’t know… he’s been thinking of quitting. Doesn’t want to continue his contract, apparently.”

Ellie sat up. She took the mug she was using and propped her phone up, looking at her big sister with wide eyes. “What do you mean? How do you know?”

Sarah moved closer to the phone, looked around a bit, as if worried Joel might suddenly burst through her door miles and miles away at any moment. “Don’t tell him this, but Angela called me. Begged me to talk him out of retiring. I mean, she wouldn’t have done that if he hadn’t said something, right?”

Ellie rolled her eyes. She did not like that woman. Neither did Sarah. She had a problem with Ellie from the start. Pulled Sarah aside and tried to stop her from volunteering at the rec centre, not wanting her to mix with the ‘riffraff’ there. Anytime Ellie was within her vicinity before the adoption, she looked at Ellie with a look that said she smelled bad.

When Joel decided to take her in, Angela went all out to stop him. Did a background check on her mom and dad, smugly presenting her findings to Joel. Sarah remembered like it was yesterday. “Bad breeds bad,” she had told him. “She’s the daughter of a drug addict and a criminal, Joel. Bad enough that Sarah is seen with her a lot, God knows what she could pull Sarah into, but now you want to legally invite her to stay with you? She’ll rob you blind Joel! I’m only looking out for you,” she had simpered, a supposedly concerned look on her pulled-too-tight face.

Joel didn’t listen, thankfully. When the public found out, Joel got so much publicity from it, his name was everywhere. He was ‘Daddy’, hot, responsible, good hearted, basically a handy hunk that women couldn’t get out of their heads. Suddenly, adopting Ellie was the most brilliant idea ever. In fact, she might have talked Joel into doing it, at least, that’s what she told Twitter back then. She had always known Ellie was his good luck charm, she crooned to Joel when she came to the house unannounced with a big bag of donated clothing, most of which were far too small and girly for Ellie, pinching her cheeks. Ellie was only 12, but she remembered recoiling away from the obviously fake lady, in both manners and physique, determined to stay away from her as much as she could.

Angela also pitched the idea for a reality show – Meet the Millers, where cameras follow their day to day lives. Imagine the money! That got shut down really quickly, even Tommy was barking at her. He may like the money, but no one touches his nieces. Even he wouldn’t stoop that low, he had told her.

So no, the girls didn’t like Angela. And no, Sarah wasn’t going to talk her Dad into signing on for five more years. Ellie certainly wouldn’t. They wanted him to rest. Relax. Settle down. Be happy. If he wanted to continue working, let it be on his own terms. Something that he would be happy to do, not something he would be forced to do. The girls may think he’s the grumpiest, most stubborn man to ever live, but they were fiercely protective of their Dad. And nothing Angela could do or say would sway them.

“What do you think he would do, if he really does retire?” Ellie asked.

“I don’t know. But I can’t imagine he would want to stay here. Would you be okay if he decides to leave LA?” Sarah was worried, changing school, making new friends, that’s a lot of change.

“I’ll follow him anywhere, you know that.”

Sarah smiled, “Well, I’m…”

“Oh shit!” Ellie scrambled. “He’s back. Fuck! Do I look sick?”

“Erm, no… you look like you’ve had too many chips, but otherwise…”

“Shh… he’s coming in,” Ellie picked up her phone, screen towards her torso, lying on the couch, blanket all the way up to her chest, doing her best to look sick.

“Ellie…” Sarah whispered. Another shush.

“Hey, old man,” Ellie croaked as Joel waltzed in, carrying the mill. He placed it on the coffee table, coming towards Ellie to check her temperature.

“You feeling better kiddo?”

Ellie opened her mouth to answer.

“Great! Rest up! Work tomorrow!” Joel was already turning around to go to his room, whistling as he did, a little jig in his steps. He looked at her over his shoulder and winked at her, his whistling now morphed into a humming, continuing his little waltz as he went up to his room, closing the door behind him.

Ellie shot up, her phone still clutched to her chest.

“Ellie! What’s going on?” Sarah’s whispers were filled with urgency.

Ellie looked at her sister, looking perplexed. “Sarah, I think we need a doctor.”

“What? Why? Is he okay? Are you really sick?”

“He was… whistling… and Sarah…” she paused, looking worried as heck, she leaned in and whispered, “He sorta did a little jig... and I swear he was humming!”

Sarah didn’t say anything. She looked troubled. Her Dad, humming? And doing little dances?

Shit.

What the fuck happened?

The next morning, Ellie woke up to a very enthusiastic banging on her door. Wake up kiddo! Don’t wanna be late! She groaned, jumped out of bed and had a quick shower – all about 30 minutes too early compared to the usual time, but maybe Joel had somewhere to be? It wouldn’t be the first time. His schedule can vary a lot, but wasn’t he on a break?

She walked out to Joel shoving a packet of pop tart and a granola bar into her pack, a buttered toast into her hand, telling her she was late. Let’s go!

She walked out into the garage to him standing next to an open passenger door, frantically gesturing for her to get inside, practically shoving her in as she climbed her way up to the seat. He checked the door really quickly before running to the driver side, muttering ‘come on, come on…’ as the garage door slowly opened,

He drove the way he usually did, but his fingers were drumming on the steering wheel every time they hit a red light. The man just looked odd. Ellie was worried.

“You okay?”

Joel looked at her, lips scrunched up, nodding as if he was behaving that way every single day, foot immediately on the gas pedal as soon as the light turned green. When he finally pulled to a stop at the rec centre, he leaned across Ellie and opened the door for her, the teenager still stunned at how keen this man was to be rid of her.

“Will you chill? My class doesn’t start for another 30 minutes. I’m gonna go get iced tea from Lil. You want coffee?”

He went quiet. All jitters stopped. “Uh… sure. Tell her I want the usual. The expresso thing.”

“ESpresso,” she corrected, as she climbed down the truck, mumbling she had no idea how he could drink that every day.

Joel waited for her to disappear around the corner before letting his head fall on the steering wheel. Shit. Now he had to wait for her to come back and go back inside before he could see you again. He looked at his watch, feet tap-tapping on the floor of the cab. God, why was she taking so long?

He took his phone and dialled Sarah’s number, the young lady picking up after only two rings, face all swollen and sleepy still.

“Dad, everything okay?”

“Yeah, just calling to see how the packing is going. You sure you don’t want me to go get you?”

“Yeah… I’m sure. I’m all packed, Dad. Just a few loose things I’m just gonna throw in my backpack at the last min… what are you searching around for?” she asked, her Dad clearly jittery, his eyes looking around as if he was worried some mafia head was gonna pop up and off him.

Joel refocused on his daughter, a bit embarrassed to be caught. “Just waiting for Ellie to come back with my coffee. Need coffee, that’s all. Machine’s busted again.”

“Uhuh… so you just need coffee? And then you’ll go back to your old self?” she questioned, looking wary as heck, side-eyeing her Dad on the FaceTime.

“What are you talking about? I’m my old self.”

“Okay…”

“So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” he asked her, determined to focus on his daughter now. “I’m excited to see you! We should have a cookout. Maybe go somewhere before you start your internship?”

“Uh… The three of us plan to start driving before dawn, stop for breakfast on the way, drive a few more hours and stop for lunch, get to Lindsey’s, spend the night, and then start again the morning after. Drop Jenna off at her place and I should be home around dinner time.”

“Anything special you want for dinner?”

“Sushi. Please. And that ramen from that place.”

“Okay. You call me before you leave, okay? I don’t care what time. And take turns driving. Don’t try to be a hero.”

“Yes Dad… I know… How are you enjoying your break so far?”

“Well, it’s only been a few days… I… oh, my coffee’s here. Hang on.”

Sarah watched as he wound his window down, eager hand claiming his coffee from Ellie. He tilted the phone towards Ellie, who took the phone out of his hand, saying hi to Sarah. “Watch,” she whispered to Sarah, clicking on the reverse camera feature, focusing on Joel as he took his first greedy sip, taking a deep breath, closing his eyes, tilting his head back to rest it on the headrest, an unwitting smile on his face.

Sarah watched as her Dad smiled, looking all… something… she didn’t recognize this. She had never seen him like this. And the whistling and the jigging and now this… over a sip of coffee. No wonder Ellie was worried. She was too, now that she’s seen the evidence.

Joel was struck by the silence, he opened his eyes, looking questionably at Ellie, who quickly clicked on the reverse camera button again, “Sarah, can you hear me? I think your line is patchy. I can’t hear you… you’ve frozen… I’ll call you later okay?” She quickly hung up and gave Joel the phone. “I’ll call her back…” she mumbled, standing there, just waiting to see what he was going to do. Joel looked flustered for a bit, reaching out to give her head a rub before putting the truck into reverse and driving away.

Ellie took out her phone and dialled Sarah’s number. She picked up before the first ring was over.

“You saw that, right?”

Joel drove around the rec centre before turning back into the parking lot, relieved Ellie was no longer there. He glanced at his watch again, the tap-tapping was back. He class wouldn’t start for ten more minutes. He looked around the truck for something to do until then, just to be safe. He didn’t want Ellie asking too many questions.

He had no idea what was happening. He just knew he wanted to be here. He took another sip of the coffee, his insides warming up, that smile back on his face. This must be why he wanted to come here. Yesterday, he was standing for hours, his back hurt, but he just felt at peace. Must be the smell of coffee. It calmed him down. He took another sip, savouring the somehow still sweet bitterness that took over his senses.

When was the last time he felt this at ease? God, he couldn’t remember. Maybe… when he was a kid? When he was sick and his Mama and Papa slept on either side of him? He felt as if he was all bundled up in a protective blanket, like everything would be alright, he would be alright, whatever came. He just wanted to savour that feeling for as long as he could, before life came after him again.

And if being at that truck, breathing in the glorious smell of coffee was what it took, he was more than willing to go back and suffer through the back pain and aching cheeks once more.

He finally got out of his truck, locked it and walked towards your truck. He could already see you smiling at your long line of customers, joking around with them. He took yet another sip of his coffee, jogged a little towards you, climbing into your truck, absent-mindedly taking the spare apron hanging on the hook and put it on, placing the hat he brought with him on his head. You lectured him about taking it off the day before, so yeah, he was keeping it on today.

You were shocked he was there, to say the least, but you were busy, and he did behave himself the day before. So you moved out from behind the till and took your spot in front of the machine, ready to make the next order.

You had no idea how, but the two of you worked well together. The truck was small, but somehow it wasn’t cramped with both of you in it. He learnt that till quickly, only making a few mistakes the day before, and you quickly fixed them, and he never repeated the same mistake twice.

About half an hour later, the line slowed. He went outside after the last person took their drink and began clearing up the tables for you. You leaned on the window, watching him sing along to the tunes Tony had on, shaking your head a little, wondering why on earth this man had decided to return and torture himself again.

“So… not that I’m not appreciative,” you called out to him, “But what the heck are you doing here Miller?”

He tossed the empty cups in the trash, a wide smile directed at you as he walked back towards the truck, tossing the rag he was holding on the sill, resting his elbow on it. “You don’t mind, do you? I have nothing to do. I’m bored. Sarah won’t be here for two more days, Ellie’s out for the class, have a heart…” he pleaded.

You jokingly contemplated his plea. “Do I have to pay you?”

“Just that cup of coffee.”

“Deal.”

The two of you shook on it. A customer came to the sill, asking for an iced tea. He ran back up into the truck, keying it in, and asked if he could watch you make the tea, maybe he could help with the non-machine-touching drinks? You let him, telling him exactly how much tea to put, how much hot water, brewing time, the likes.

Joel listened, taking everything in. The amount of tea. The hot water. The brewing time. The way your lips moved. The way your dimples played peekaboo. The way your ponytail swayed as you moved. The way the neckline of your blouse today gave him little peeks of your skin.

When the tea was ready, you turned around to give it to the customer, asking her how the baby was. You chatted with her for a bit, leaning on the counter below the window. Joel couldn't help continue studying you... how your legs were crossed together at the ankle, how your ass…

Wait… stop it.

Joel picked up a rag and wiped the counter you had just wiped again, just to have something else to do that didn’t involve staring at your ass, perfectly jutting out for his viewing pleasure, swaying a little as you laughed with your regular, clad in the perfect pair of jeans that hugged your curves just right.

You turned around to face him, took the rags off the counters and his hands, and went to the small sink you had to wash them. He stood next to you, watching you wash them, earning him a light-hearted jab from you – what, you want to learn the art of washing rags too? He laughed, telling you that he might just. Maybe coffee truck rags had a different method of cleaning.

“Joel?”

The two of you turned around. Ellie was standing in the doorway of the truck, looking at Joel as if he had two heads. “What are you doing here?”

Joel stood up straight, his hand went straight for his cup of coffee, now empty, and took a sip of air. He flustered a bit.

“I think the question is, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” he blubbered, a hand on his hip, the other awkwardly on the counter.

“Frank has car trouble. Class is postponed. I thought I’d work ‘til you pick me up. I thought you had something to do?”

“Erm… my thing got cancelled,” he managed to say.

“Oh, so maybe we can go watch a movie or something? You’re okay if I don’t work today, right Lil?”

You nodded. You understood. Ellie had always told you Joel was a busy man. He really should be spending time with her when he could.

“Uh… yeah, sure,” Joel said, trying hard to hide his disappointment from his youngest daughter. He began to untie his apron, missing Ellie’s widened eyes upon noticing that he had it on.

“Hey Lil?” Tony called out, walking up to the window. “My cousin just called me for some food for his office, he also ordered coffee, do you mind? Pickup in 30 minutes,” he said, forwarding you a list of orders on your phone.

Joel retied his apron, pushing Ellie out of the truck, telling her to wait for him at the tables. Maybe practice drawing the truck. He’ll be right with her.

Ellie sat waiting with her phone in her hand, filming her grumpy adopted father who hated fancy, thieving coffee chains help you with the order, keying in the order, labelling the cups, readying the to-go bags, he even filled in a smaller bag with sugar and creamer packets, complete with those fiddly stirrers he made fun of at least a thousand times in the few years she had been living with him.

When he was finally done, Ellie watched as Joel Miller took off the apron, telling you he would see you the next day, before turning around to walk away with a nervous look on his face, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. He turned back to face you as he took out his phone and sheepishly asked for your number, “So I could text you if I can’t make it,” he said. He waited patiently as you keyed in your number, and immediately texted you something, smiling widely as he heard your phone ping.

Ah… Ellie immediately texted Sarah.

‘I think your Dad has a crush on my boss.’

To say you were in a jam was an understatement. Your showerhead decided that today, of all days, was the perfect day to shoot out of its socket and spray water everywhere. The super was out of town. You called your plumber, but he said the earliest he could get there was after lunch. He was booked solid. Relax, he told you, you’ll be fine ‘til then.

You texted Ellie, telling her that your shower broke and you wouldn’t be working today. Please let Joel know. You were about to toss the phone on your bed when the phone immediately pinged.

‘Send me your location’

‘Why?’

‘We have a plumber, he can get to you now.’

Your fingers had never worked faster. You sent her the location and your apartment number, going back into the bathroom to empty the bucket you’d placed under the shower. The last thing you needed was a flooded bathroom.

You were disappointed. You had never wanted to go to work more than you did today. You didn’t know why exactly. Your heart just felt… heavy. You felt guilty… or something… for not being able to go in today. You wondered why.

Ah… Joel texted you last night asking if there was a chance you would teach him to brew a good cup of coffee, just so he could have one daily when summer was over and Ellie no longer needed to go to the art class. He won’t even touch the machine, he promised. Just teach him how.

You promised him you would, and now you had to break that promise. You just hated disappointing people, that’s all.

Yeah. That must be it. That’s why you were disappointed you couldn’t go in.

The doorbell rang, so you placed the bucket back in its place and ran to open the door.

Joel Miller was standing outside your door, a toolbox in his hands. His face lit up when he saw you, but then suddenly snapped shut awkwardly, turning his body around.

It was only then you realized you were standing in front of him in your sleep shirt.

Your white sleep shirt. Your wet, white, sleep shirt.

With nothing underneath but a pair of panties. Your nipples were sticking to your wet shirt, which was now basically see through.

You ran inside, yelling your apologies, telling him to come in, grabbing a bathrobe and putting it on, trying hard to laugh your embarrassment away. He didn’t answer, and when you went to the door, his tool box was there, but he wasn’t. The riot that was your spraying shower went quiet, and he came back after a few seconds, telling you he shut the water line for your house – easier for him to work, he said.

There was still water dripping from the shower, but he fixed it within 15 minutes, coming out of your bathroom with water trickling down from his hair onto his neck, coming down his chest. He went back outside and came back to test the shower, now working perfectly.

You asked him how much you owed him, telling him he didn’t need to come all the way over to your apartment.

He smiled and told you his payment was a cup of coffee, as he had told you the day before. He watched as you made him a cup, jokingly asking you if he had to buy a fancy coffee machine now?

For some reason, apart from those few sentences, the two of you didn’t really talk. There was a silence as you both had your coffees, both awkward and not awkward at the same time. He wouldn’t really look at you, and you found yourself unable to look at him much either.

“Would you like some breakfast?” you asked him, taking his cup from him, your fingers brushing his for a split second, a spark of static causing you to pull back quickly, the mug slipping from your grasp, crashing onto the floor. He bent down to collect the pieces while you got a broom, sweeping the remnants off the floor, telling him you’ll vacuum later. He picked up his tool box, hesitantly telling you he should be going, looking regretful.

For some reason, you found yourself feeling sorry he had to leave so soon. But you walked him to the door anyway. He turned around once he was outside, thanking you for the coffee, asking you if he could see you the next day? Sarah was coming back, so he won’t be coming for a while, wanting to spend time with her before she started her internship the next week.

“Of course,” you told him, “Thank you so much for helping me out, you really didn’t have to.”

“It’s no trouble, really,” he insisted, “The coffee was worth it.”

You didn’t know what came over you, but you leaned in and lightly kissed him on the cheek, whispering your thanks to him one more time, unable to help yourself from taking in his scent, making you feel lightheaded. He didn’t pull away, staying where he was when you pulled away. He looked you in the eyes, contemplation in them. You may have imagined it, but you thought you saw them flick towards your lips for a split second.

“Joel? Joel Miller?”

The two of you turned to see the source of the snappy voice. Your young neighbour Lucy, formerly known as the off-key alarm system to your building was standing there, obviously on her way out, her keys clutched in her hand. She eyed your bathrobe, your wet hair, his slightly wet appearance.

“Lucy,” he said, rather awkwardly.

She turned around and went back inside, slamming the door behind her.

“I should be going,” he said once more, before turning around and walking away as fast as he could.

Okay that was weird, you thought, but it was none of your business, surely? You had an anvil in your chest, but you didn’t know why. You distracted yourself by vacuuming your small kitchen, getting rid of any remnants of that broken mug.

You didn’t understand what happened. What happened? Between you and Joel. Between him and Lucy.

The doorbell interrupted your thoughts. You opened the door to Lucy standing outside.

“Are you fucking Joel Miller?”

Huh?

“If you are, we need to talk,” she said, pushing you aside and walking into your apartment, aggressively turning around to face you, her arms across her chest, a serious look on her face.

Part 6

[lexicrvg]

On a random night in 1989, Ice and Mav have a fight about their future together. Ice wants to quit the navy and love Mav in all the ways he deserves, out and proud, but Maverick doesn't let him. He knows Ice wants to climb through the ranks and get stars on his shoulder, he can't be the reason Ice misses this.

That night, they broke up. Ice couldn't bear be with someone who didn't love him just as much as he loves them, and Maverick couldn't tell Ice he wouldn't give up flying for him.

Ice quits the navy. He would've done it with or without Maverick.

30+ years go by, and their lives haven't even once crossed paths, not even at Slider's wedding nor Sundown's funeral. It seems like the universe had separate plans for them, and it stuck this way.

(They were at both of these events, but Wolfman was in charge of "Not let Mav and Tom see each other" and he always aces a task)

Until Wolf's retirement party, that is. With him being the center of attention, he gives Hollywood the most important task of his life, Wood have other plans tho, he's very easily distracted by his husband's beautiful smile and when they're least expecting it...

"Hey" Maverick says, sitting on the bar, side by side with Tom.

"Pete!" Tom opens a big smile "Long time no see!"

"Yeah, right." Mav takes a pause, looking at the other up and down. "You look great"

And he did. Being away from the navy must've given Tom 10 years of his life back.

"You look exactly the same," Tom laughs. "Like, scarily so."

Pete laughs with him, although the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. In just 2 minutes, between seeing Tom from across the room and engaging in conversation with him, Mav noticed he seems... happy.

"I think I've been time traveling in those jets," he jokes, and Tom laughs. Again.

Tom didn't have such an easy smile back then. It rubs on Maverick the wrong way.

"How have you been?" Tom asks, after taking a sip of his vodka.

Maverick did not have a good answer to that question. Miserable? Missing you every day of my life? Discharged?

"Good" it's what he settles for. "You?"

Something in Tom's eyes twitches, like he's well aware Maverick's lying to his face, he says nothing about it, and Mav doesn't give him a chance to. He spots the ring on Tom's finger and, before he can help himself, he asks:

"What's her name?" Earning yet another laugh from Tom.

"I know it's been a while, but I'm sure you remember I'm not particularly interested in women." Tom plays with his ring and adds: "His name is Grant, and he's..." Tom searches for something in the room, then points. "... right there."

Against his better judgment, Mav turns to see where Tom's pointing. He regrets it immediately. Grant is gorgeous.

He's the exact opposite of Pete. For starters, he's tall, taller than Ice, taller than Slider whom he's talking excitedly with. Grant's hair is silver, and he carries a smile that would make Mav swoon if the situation was any different.

"We met in 2001" Tom continues, smiling lovingly at his partner. "Got married in 2016, and..."

"And...?"

"Our kid came to our lives in 2019. She just turned 10."

Maverick feels like he's going to throw up. Husband and daughter. Tom had both a husband and a daughter while Pete was still in weird terms with Bradley and as single as he's ever been. It wasn't fair. He was the one who didn't want Tom and now... Now, Tom has been living a happy life with a family he could only dream of when he was in the navy, and Pete still held onto a tiny bit of hope that he would get Ice back.

It wasn't fair. Not at all. He might die of regret.

"Listen, I gotta go to the restroom, " Ice said, getting up. "You stay here! I'll be back. We have a lot of catch-up to do, " and walked away.

Mav downed the rest of Tom's drink in one go, very disappointedly realizing it was water and not vodka.

"Hey, shortstack!" comes from Ron Kerner, looking a bit tipsy, bringing Grant on his arm. "I want you to meet my dear friend, Grant!"

"Yeah, I..."

"Grant, this is Pete Mitchell, Tom's wingmen" hearing Slider refer to him as Ice's wingmen did something weird to Mav's heart. "Mav, this is Grant Kazansky, he's..."

"Ice's husband, yeah, I heard."

Both Slider and Grant giggle at this. Grown man. Giggling. "He hates being called Ice nowadays," Grant explains. "He says Iceman is someone who should stay in the past."

"Sorry, old habits." Mav opens an awkward smile.

"Can I get you a drink?" Grant offers. "Something stronger than Tom's water."

"I thought it was vodka." Mav murmurs.

Already gesturing to the bartender to bring a drink, Grant says: "He stopped drinking when our princess came to our lives."

"And yet I'm her contact emergency" Slider interrupts.

"Because you let her eat ice cream before dinner!"

And isn't this nice? Maverick thought to himself. Him, his biggest love's husband and fucking Ron Kerner all sitting together and having a nice chat!

Before he could actually throw up in front of these people, he excused himself and went to get some fresh air.

Not even 5 minutes go by before someone sits down besides him on the sidewalk.

"He talked about you." Grant says, offering Mav a glass of something that might be whiskey — or apple juice, you never know.

"Good things, I hope." Mav says, taking the glass.

Grant snorts, but doesn't answer. Awkward silence rovers between them.

"Do you love him?" Pete asks, breaking it.

Without missing a beat, Grant answers: "More than I ever loved anyone."

Something twists in Mav's stomach, but he ignores it.

"That's good. He only deserves good things."

But it went without saying. Grant knew Tom deserved only good things, hell, Ice knew it. He would never settle for less than he deserves, and that's why he's with Grant and not Maverick.

"He's lucky to have you," Pete finishes, swallowing the bitter taste the words leave in his mouth.

"I'm lucky to have him." After a beat of awkward silence, Grant adds: "You should come by to dinner."

Mav must've heard it wrong, so he waits for Grant to correct himself. It never comes.

"What?"

"Dinner at our place," Grant explains. "He'd love to get you back in his life, he treasures his friends a lot."

Friends. Right. That's what they are. No.

"We haven't been friends in a long time," not since 1986, he lefts unsaid, since we started dating.

Grant seems to think about it, then decides, "Now it's a good time to reconect. Enjoy your drink."

Then he walks back into the bar, leaving Mav and his thoughts alone.

It all seems a bit crazy for him. Ice — sorry, Tom — has a husband. And they've been together for more than twenty years. A husband who loves him dearly and isn't afraid to say so. A husband who goes to navy events just to celebrate Tom's old friends. A husband who looks like could and would kill anyone who did Tom wrong. A husband who sat down with Tom's ex and invited him to dinner just because.

Pete thinks he should accept the offer. Just to see what Tom's been up to and meet his daughter, would she like him? Would she call him "Uncle Mav"? He should call Slider and check on what to wear and say...

Oh. He doesn't know what to say around Tom. They're strangers now. The man who he once shared a house, a bed, a life, and a heart with is now a stranger to him.

The realization does something to him, something very bad. He takes a sip of his drink and decides this day could not get any worse.

Huh. Whiskey. A good one. At least Grant knows his liquor.

[ratsplendor]

so this post was on my dash last night and i woke up still thinking about it. bc i really do feel like we get a lot of internalized homophobia!Wilson, due to the very comphet of it all, but i think there's some really interesting angles you can play with from this perspective, too. & of course end up with some major angst lol.

so. i kind of ended up going on a long ass ramble here. i've stuck it under a readmore for those who're just scrolling. thanks for putting up with me lol

the main thing i'm thinking about is like...the huge, Stacy-left-me-shaped chip on his shoulder. because how many straight guys do you know who have made their breakup this massive personality trait/let it take the blame for their behavior for years afterwards? i know so many! "wife left me, i joined the NRA" type shit.

in this situation you're describing, i think the breakup is a huge part of how this plays out. because: 1. any feelings he has for men after that are just because she fucked him up so bad. and 2. yes, he's upset she left, why wouldn't he be? he certainly wasn't relieved, secretly, that she pulled the trigger, that she gave him an excuse to push her away. he certainly wasn't tired of pretending, especially given his new condition, which makes it harder to mask. that would be crazy.

so he latches on to this post-breakup, miss-her-but-resent-her pattern of behavior because it's an easy cover for whatever else he's feeling, on two separate fronts. and then she comes back. he finds out Wilson is trying to keep them apart and for a split second, he hopes it's because Wilson's jealous, and he hates that he feels that so much that he throws himself back into manic Stacy-mode again, to the point of being party to her marriage nearly breaking up. a guy who breaks up his ex's marriage is definitely straight! right??

i think a lot of the time we get House being portrayed as the one who's settled with himself because he has this air of hedonism about him, and he enjoys being the contrarian/making people uncomfortable, and doesn't appear to care what other people think. but of course, we see that's especially untrue where his father is concerned. in a world where nothing was off limits to House, we'd expect to see him weaponizing the abuse as part of the way he makes people uncomfortable, right? instead, he's so quiet about it that even Wilson doesn't know well enough to not make him go to the funeral. it's a product of a time when certain things belonged behind closed doors. so there are some things that are off limits to House. joking about being gay is one thing, it gets a rise out of people, but he doesn't allow himself the real thing because 1. he's not gay and 2. it's so bound up in the complexity of the first few decades of his life. which he doesn't talk about, not even to make people squirm. most young people start to contend with their sexuality while still living at home...on base housing, where it felt like there were eyes everywhere, and with a father like John House. then, like you said, came the AIDS crisis, and how many tirades do you think John probably went off on? with his son, the doctor, on the phone with him? the voice that told him how to be a man is asking if he's really gonna treat those fags or not. what do you do?

i'll end this by saying, as a kid who grew up with base brats of several types, i've always found it really interesting + sorely underexplored that House is referred to so often just by surname. i know it's a thing among medical folk, too, but undoubtedly, when his father's buddies came around, they were calling him House. hell, i knew kids whose mothers called their fathers by surname. i've always found this interesting because if House didn't choose it, if it's something that just happened organically during med school, did it hurt at first? and if he did choose it, in this case, would it be because it felt like being a man? his father, the model he had for "real" masculinity growing up--would taking up his name in his early adulthood feel like a shortcut to a male ideal that he was so desperately struggling to align with?

thinking about internalised homophobia House. I normally headcanon him as openly bi (but maybe repressed or in denial about being in love with Wilson), but I like the idea of his suggestive gay comments being a cover because he's so far in denial and gay jokes are a way of being like "haha isn't it so ridiculous and subversive to suggest I'm gay? I'm doing this for the shock value because I'm obviously straight", in the same way straight guys think gay jokes are the funniest thing in the world

his homophobic military dad and becoming independent and coming of age in the 1980s and only hearing about gay people during the AIDS crisis left him with some fucked up ideas and attitudes about gay people (and himself. and what it means to be a man)

if Wilson ever tries to confess feelings for House (or if they fall into each other on a drunken night), House would absolutely withdraw, run away, push Wilson away because House isn't gay

House then dating a woman to prove to Wilson (and everyone. and himself) that he's normal and straight

eventually, if he and Wilson start seeing each other, House would rationalise it as "technically homosexual, but not like those other gays". maybe he'd also withdraw in public where anyone could see them, and try to suppress the emotional side of things ("this is just physical, don't be a fag about it")

meanwhile, Wilson is desperately trying to be okay with the scraps of affection he gets from House, but it's killing him. he's not doing well. after pining over House for so long (knowingly? unknowingly? you decide), he didn't think it would feel like this. but maybe this is the best he deserves