#Or he's incapable of making his own decisions

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Dumbledore is a little full of himself

Like, I read Tales of Beedle the Bard, and I was struck by how Dumbledore comments on his own cleverness and knowledge in his notes incredibly often:

This prejudice eventually died out in the face of overwhelming evidence that some of the world’s most brilliant wizards(3) were, to use the common phrase, “Muggle-lovers”. [...] 3 Such as myself.

(Albus Dumbledore on “The Wizard and the Hopping Pot”)

I think I may say, without vanity, that both my Fountain and my Hill performed the parts allotted to them with simple goodwill. Alas, that the same could not be said of the rest of the cast.

(Albus Dumbledore on “The Fountain of Fair Fortune”)

Even I, Albus Dumbledore, would find it easiest to refuse the Invisibility Cloak; which only goes to show that, clever as I am, I remain just as big a fool as anyone else.

(Albus Dumbledore on “The Tale of the Three Brothers”)

The guy can hardly talk about anything without talking about how smart and wise and brilliant he is. Like, no humility whatsoever.

In the books, everyone keeps singing his praises like Dumbledore can do no wrong and the only one who keeps saying Dumbledore can be wrong is Harry. And even then, in Harry's limbo vision of King's Cross, which I don't think is really Dumbledore, it's telling Harry envisions him saying something like this:

“And you knew this? You knew — all along?” “I guessed. But my guesses have usually been good,” said Dumbledore happily

(DH, Ch35)

Dumbledore doesn't speak to Harry all that often throughout the series, with book 6 being the one he interacts with him the most. And we see that even in conversations with people, Dumbledore loves to hear how wise and great he is. When he says "I might be mistaken" it's with the tone of "I'm right and everyone else is wrong". Which is usually the case often enough, yes (though not always), but he does it a lot, and I found it interesting how often he uses this phrasing and how smug he seems about it:

And then Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers — “Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!” (GOF)

“I may be wrong,” said Dumbledore pleasantly, “but I am sure that under the Wizengamot Charter of Rights, the accused has the right to present witnesses for his or her case? Isn’t that the policy of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Madam Bones?” he continued, addressing the witch in the monocle. (OotP)

“Payment?” said Harry. “You’ve got to give the door something?” “Yes,” said Dumbledore. “Blood, if I am not much mistaken.” (HBP)

Dumbledore uses this phrasing when he knows what he is saying is correct. He is saying it not because he thinks he might actually be wrong. When he actually thinks he is wrong, he makes excuses and tries to reason why the decision he made was actually reasonable at the time:

“Harry, I owe you an explanation,” said Dumbledore. “An explanation of an old man’s mistakes. For I see now that what I have done, and not done, with regard to you, bears all the hallmarks of the failings of age. Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young ... and I seem to have forgotten lately...”

(OotP)

He is incapable of saying: "I was wrong, it happens, let's move on," it has to come with reasoning or an excuse. He blames it on his age, not that he made a wrong judgment call. This isn't humbleness.

Dumbledore is a character who wants to be humble but just isn't. he considers modesty a virtue. Hell, humility is practically his favorite trait Harry possess:

Harry, who could not see any way out of this without flatly lying, nodded but still said nothing. Slughorn beamed at him. “So modest, so modest, no wonder Dumbledore is so fond — you were there, then?

(HBP) - Slughorn mentions how Dumbledore appreciates modesty.

The third brother in the story (“the humblest and also the wisest”) is the only one who understands that, having narrowly escaped Death once, the best he can hope for is to postpone their next meeting for as long as possible.

(Albus Dumbledore on “The Tale of the Three Brothers”)

He appreciates being humble and modest and sees it as being wise. He derides Tom for thinking of himself as "special" or "clever" even when it's true (and when he does the same). He loves Harry's modesty, which is really low self-esteem, not modesty. Harry's low self-worth is like the ultimate humbleness in Dumbledore's eyes because he doesn't see it for what it is and he was never humble in his life, so he doesn't really know where the balance between confidence and arrogance is or the line between modesty and low self-worth. I think he honestly doesn't know because he is exceptionally arrogant.

Dumbledore created this image of ineffability around him and it's clear Harry is one of the only people (besides Dumbledore and Aberforth) who knows Dumbledore can make a mistake and he keeps reminding Hermione, Lupin, and literally everyone else of that fact:

“People have said it, many times. It comes down to whether or not you trust Dumbledore’s judgment. I do; therefore, I trust Severus.” “But Dumbledore can make mistakes,” argued Harry. “He says it himself. And you” — he looked Lupin straight in the eye — “do you honestly like Snape?”

(HBP)

This is all another case of Dumbledore being incapable of practicing what he preaches. He values modesty, but he doesn't seem to be capable of it.

Now, I'm not saying he isn't clever or special, he is. But he is the type of really smart person who looks down on anyone they don't see as intelligent as them. He doesn't see most people as equal to him.

Dumbledore doesn't see most of the Order or Aberforth as his equals. He never did. Elphias Doge kisses his ass, but Dumbledore clearly doesn't share the same level of respect for him. Or for most people, really.

“Elphias Doge mentioned her to us,” said Harry, trying to spare Hermione. “That old berk,” muttered Aberforth, taking another swig of mead. “Thought the sun shone out of my brother’s every office, he did. Well, so did plenty of people, you three included, by the looks of it.” Harry kept quiet. He did not want to express the doubts and uncertainties about Dumbledore that had riddled him for months now. [...] “Grindelwald. And at last, my brother had an equal to talk to someone just as bright and talented as he was. And looking after Ariana took a backseat then, while they were hatching all their plans for a new Wizarding order and looking for Hallows, and whatever else it was they were so interested in.

(DH)

Dumbledore doesn't trust the majority of the Order with anything because he doesn't think they'd be capable of handling it because they're not him. He literally tells them nothing until he has to, keeping them busy guarding a prophecy he knows can't be stolen by a run-of-the-mill Death Eater. He only tells Harry about the Horcruxes because he has no choice but to tell him. Same with Snape — Dumbledore trusts him out of necessity.

Snape and Grindelwald are the only people we see Dumbledore show respect towards their abilities, wisdom, and magic in some capacity.

Like, he calls Sirius clever, but he talks about him as foolish in the same breath. He calls McGonagall wise, but he clearly doesn't think she's wise enough to be told anything or trusted with anything. And while he does speak highly of Harry's courage and humility and though Harry is insanely powerful and with the right training could beat Dumbledore, Dumbledore keeps putting him down when it comes to magical abilities/intelligence compared to himself:

“I’m not upset.” “Harry, you were never a good Occlumens — ”

(HBP) - even though Harry can and does get really good at it once he does it his way.

“I do not think you will count, Harry: You are underage and unqualified. Voldemort would never have expected a sixteen-year-old to reach this place: I think it unlikely that your powers will register compared to mine.”

(HBP)

I find this tendency of Dumbledore to be really interesting. He underestimates people constantly and thinks too highly of himself. and he is very honest about it to people's faces. He keeps talking about how Voldemort’s defenses on his Horcruxes are shit, and how Voldemort is foolish when the curse Voldemort left on the ring is literally killing him at that very moment:

“I do not think you will count, Harry: You are underage and unqualified. Voldemort would never have expected a sixteen-year-old to reach this place: I think it unlikely that your powers will register compared to mine.” These words did nothing to raise Harry’s morale; perhaps Dumbledore knew it, for he added, “Voldemort’s mistake, Harry, Voldemort’s mistake ... Age is foolish and forgetful when it underestimates youth. ... Now, you first this time, and be careful not to touch the water.”

(HBP)

Dumbledore thinking himself so clever, more clever than Voldemort, is what killed him. His arrogant insistence that he's the smartest man in the room killed him. He is undermining Voldemort for mistakes similar to the ones he makes regularly when interacting with Harry. And he's aware of that. He knows he's a hypocrite:

When I discovered it, after all those years, buried in the abandoned home of the Gaunts—the Hallow I had craved most of all, though in my youth I had wanted it for very different reasons—I lost my head, Harry. I quite forgot that it was now a Horcrux, that the ring was sure to carry a curse. I picked it up, and I put it on, and for a second I imagined that I was about to see Ariana, and my mother, and my father, and to tell them how very, very sorry I was . . . “I was such a fool, Harry. After all those years I had learned nothing. I was unworthy to unite the Deadly Hallows. I had proved it time and again, and here was the final proof.”

(DH) - Dumbledore's portrait

I think Dumbledore's self-awareness is why he wants to like Harry as much as he does. While I don't think Dumbledore knows Harry as well as he thinks he does, what Dumbledore does see is enough for him to imagine Harry in his head as this perfect, virtuous martyr that he wished all his life to portray himself as. He idealizes who he imagines Harry is without fully respecting Harry as his own person with his own abilities.

I just find it interesting that for a character who speaks so highly of humility, he doesn't seem to possess it, and that it ends up being the death of him.

[urialnathanonwright]

Trump's Pardon Pandemonium: An Assault on Justice and Sanity

If you’ve ever wondered just how far Donald Trump is willing to go to desecrate the principles of justice, public safety, and common decency, look no further than his latest stunt—a disgraceful spree of pardons for violent criminals and corrupt cops. This isn’t just tone-deaf politics; it’s a middle finger to law, order, and every decent human being who believes in accountability.

Let’s start with Trump’s defense of pardoning January 6 rioters, including D.J. Rodriguez, the man who jammed a stun gun into the neck of an officer defending the U.S. Capitol. Trump’s excuse? These people have “already served enough time” in “inhumane” conditions. Seriously? These are domestic terrorists who assaulted the very officers Trump claims to support. But instead of siding with the men and women who held the line that day, Trump’s throwing them under the bus to score cheap points with his base.

And when confronted about Rodriguez specifically, Trump’s first response was, “I don’t know.” Well, isn’t that just rich? The guy who pretends to be the ultimate law-and-order president suddenly “doesn’t know” why he pardoned someone who attacked a cop. News flash, Donald: claiming ignorance doesn’t erase the fact that you’re enabling and excusing violence against police.

Now let’s talk about his pardons for two DC police officers, Sutton and Zabavsky, convicted of murder and obstruction in the death of Karon Hylton-Brown. These weren’t heroes making tough calls in the line of duty. These were men who recklessly chased a young man to his death, tampered with evidence, and lied to cover their tracks. But Trump has the audacity to call them victims—“friends of police,” as he puts it. Friends of police? No, Mr. Trump, these men betrayed the badge, the public trust, and the very communities they swore to protect.

And don’t even get me started on the grotesque falsehoods Trump spewed while defending this decision. He claimed Hylton-Brown was “an illegal,” which is not only categorically false but reeks of the kind of dog-whistle racism we’ve come to expect from him. Hylton-Brown was a U.S. citizen, and his life mattered—a fact Trump is incapable of acknowledging.

Let’s be clear: these pardons aren’t about justice or fairness. They’re about signaling to his base that accountability doesn’t matter as long as you’re on his team. Assault a cop in his name? Here’s your pardon. Commit murder and cover it up? No problem—Trump’s got your back. This isn’t leadership. This is moral cowardice dressed up as populism.

What’s worse, these actions send a chilling message: if you’re violent, corrupt, or outright criminal, you’ve got a get-out-of-jail-free card as long as you’re politically useful to Trump. Meanwhile, those who play by the rules—officers like Michael Fanone, who put their lives on the line to defend democracy—are left to feel betrayed by their own country. And who can blame them?

Trump has always framed himself as a champion of law and order, but the truth is he doesn’t give a damn about justice. He cares about loyalty—to him, and him alone. Whether it’s rioters attacking the Capitol, cops abusing their power, or his own shady dealings, Trump’s only guiding principle is self-interest.

But here’s the thing: we don’t have to stand for it. We can call this out for what it is—a blatant abuse of power and a disgrace to the values this country is supposed to represent. Justice, accountability, and the rule of law aren’t just slogans; they’re the bedrock of a functioning democracy. And every time Trump tramples on them, it’s up to us to push back.

So let’s push back. Let’s make it clear that we won’t let a failed reality TV star rewrite the rules of justice to suit his own ego. Because if we don’t, the next pardon spree might be even worse.

[skiptomyylu]

Okay This Might Be Stupid: A Comparison of Adam Young and Aziraphale for Clarity Sake

Now I don't mean a comparison of their characters to say one was better than the others. It's more so a comparison of their personal relationships with Heaven and Hell. A comparison of how those relationships/connections formed their most impactful decisions with incredibly powerful beings.

Now...lets start with Adam Young and his relationship with Hell.

...crickets

It doesn't exist. Adam Young had literally no relation to hell other than Satan being his biological father. He had his friends and his family and Hogback Woods. Nobody in Hell really came up to talk to him and Adam didn't KNOW he was the son of Satan either until he started coming into his power OR until the devil showed up.

Adam Young has no connection to hell aside from Biology, and Hell has no connection to him. Of course he was able to stand up to his Father and Heaven and Hell and his own Destiny.

Because he's so brave- I love Adam so much

Aziraphale and Crowleys talk with him gave him a bit more confidence

HELL HAS NO HOLD ON HIM

They couldn't sway him even if he wanted to. Beelzebub TRIED sure offering to him that he'd get to rule the world. But he didn't want it anymore. He was able to break away from what was written and make his own Destiny.

Now...Aziraphale and Heaven.

Heaven has so much hold on Aziraphale- it's something else.

Emotionally, Physically, Mentally- Heaven is his foundation and fundamentals. They fed him the most rigid and incorrect ideas and lies and when he starts breaking from the mold they reprimand and belittle him until he's back into the shape they want him in.

They can watch him whenever they want. They already watch his miracles and got upset for having too many "frivolous" ones. They can pick and choose whatever they wish to do to/with him. He knew NOTHING of Jobs trials until the day it happened and the acted as though he was an idiot for not understanding.

HEAVEN has a hold on Aziraphale. Oh they have the strongest hold on Aziraphale- millions of years in the making. So strong that we can see the indent lines from their cold callous fists in Aziraphales words and ideals throughout history.

So of course the Metatron could come down, manipulate Aziraphale, and get EXACTLY what he wanted for him. OF COURSE it's that easy for them to do.

When it's said Aziraphale had no choice- we don't mean the Metaton tied him down or beat his ass and screamed "GO TO HEAVEN! NOW!"

It means his going to Heaven was NEVER a choice to begin with. The Metatron did not come down from HEAVEN to ask a yes or no question. He wasn't gonna leave without a souvenir- the tartan wearing Angel made of the clay heaven can mold however they like.

Oftentimes when a parent asks you to do something- it is not a question. It is a statement- an order- formed as a question for MAYBE the sake of politeness. But there is no NO option.

When the METATRON comes down from Heaven and offered you the position of Supreme Archangel so perfectly and carefully gift wrapped and catered towards you there is no NO option. There is no version of that conversation where Aziraphale would have said no.

So...can we stop calling Aziraphale an idiot or an asshole or something for doing what was set in stone the moment the Metatron walked into the bookshop.

TOODLEOO!

[mollypaup]

i think a really great aspect of oofuri is how much it gets mihashi's ass for being overly timid and dependent. it would be really easy to write off the way he and abe interact as being abe's fault because he is overbearing, and a lot of people do, but it has some really great moments of going "hey, you cannot hide behind abe or depend on him to make every decision. it's not good for you, or him, or the team."

[the-labyrinth-of-me]

Wait did both Alice and Zane record Alan when he was at his lowest point? Didn't Alice make her exhibition to show the world what she sees? To show Alan the truth about himself? That it never was Scratch visiting and terrorizing her, but Alan himself? Did she depict his "self" and Zane depicted his "persona"? The two sides of him that he wishes he can eliminate bc they brought him into trouble (Scratch representing anger and the fallouts with paparazzi and stuff, Zane representing his self-destructive behavior with alcohol and drugs and the party nights)? The both sides that caused his marriage to start falling apart? Was that the reason Zane made that video of Alan when they were on that booze and drug-fueled bender while working on the Return manuscript? Is this party video the companion piece?? Alan's downward spiral, same as Alice's photos? Do they fucking work together aasdffjfjfkfk

[relicsongmel]

Just spent over an hour searching for the static Ho-oh in the overworld and suddenly Ryuji taking literal years to reunite with his family makes sense to me now

[monabee-draws]

Dorian confessing his intention to return to Tevinter for good is so heartbreaking in the Tresspasser DLC. Because of course he does! It doesn't come out of nowhere, he tells the inquisitor as much before they even defeat Corypheus - he loves his home country and knows that he personally needs to be the one to fix it. Not any foreign power (including you and the Inquisition) but through internal change. And he's so blasé about it when he tells you, keeping his tone light, excited for his future work with Maevaris and the Lucerni! Of course, he didn't want you to find out like that but this is a good thing. He's happy! He's practically jovial!

And then you think about how familiar that tone of voice is. And remember his romance scene, and the nonchalant way he asks you if this whole relationship is just a one-time thing. And how he jokes and jibes with you in the bad-end future during In Hushed Whispers, to the point where Leliana calls him out on the obvious attempt at levity. Barring your brushes with his family, who elicit a kind of knee-jerk anger that cracks his usual mask, Dorian is very good at maintaining that emotional wall. So you listen as your heart breaks, as you consider how to respond to the lightness of him in this devastating moment, and you realise-

Dorian is terrified. The kind of scared where you can't really voice it, not in public, not even in private spaces when you aren't 100% in control. It's scary losing a parent, even one you're not quite reconciled with. To have to take his place and fill a role you've never fit, and somehow finally actually push forward with all the ideals you've been imagining to be so far away for many years. And to do all that on the opposite side of the world from the people who all made you finally believe it could be possible in the first place?

Dorian is so very used to being the brave one, the optimistically realistic one, that he can't possibly burden you - whose heart is breaking, whose Inquisition is failing, whose body is slowly killing them - with all of his own ugly fear. That wouldn't be very charming and dependable and Dorian of him, would it? More to the point, leaning on you would be both more burdensome to you and chafe against his own stubborn pride - not accepting favours is well-established during his romance-specific quest to retrieve his birthright. So instead of taking you aside somewhere quiet, consulting you about his final decision on the matter, and giving both of you the space to grieve, he...

Well he tells Varric. And Sera, and Bull, and Cole. Part of it is practice - how might they react? Part of it is in hope for advice on how to break the news. Varric and Bull are adept speakers. Cole's whole job is compassion. Even Sera's bluntness might help when you're chronically incapable of not sugarcoating things. But all it really does it make things worse, because its a distancing tactic. Nothing can truly prepare him for the crack in your voice, the sharp sting of your flinch and the perceived betrayal.

It's almost ironic, that his romantic lock-in asks you to decide if you're in for the long haul, when Dorian's entire arc is one that will inevitably draw him back to Tevinter. And specifically in such a way as to leave you. Because he does not want you tagging along (at least not now, not as the Inquisitor.) Dorian's fear in this moment is not fully centered on you, the man he loves, but there is certainly a part of him that is back in the Inquisitor's chambers on the opposite side of that question of 'do you want me to stay.'

Dorian Pavus' greatest fear is temptation, emblazoned on his tombstone in the Fade for all to see. And there you are, with your political power, ready to jump in and save the day once again on his behalf. And he's tempted. There you are with your familiarity and a space for him in the South that accepts him for who he is. And he's tempted.

There you are. Loving him. And well...

So he doesn't lower his voice to whisper to you, or hold you too close. He confesses in public where the crowds prohibit hysterics, he sips on precious wine, and he gifts you his sending stone. It is both distance and closeness all tied with a bow. A temptation that he can just about handle. Fear under wraps. Because if he lets you, you will - without even knowing - stop his entire life in its tracks. You represent everything he can never afford to lose to. And it is wretched how desperately he doesn't want to lose you.

[tapwater-made-everyone-gay]

!!!SPOILERS FOR THOSE WHO HAVEN’T LISTENED TO THE VENGEANCE SAGA OF EPIC THE MUSICAL!!!

I find it really interesting that people are so upset about the Poseidon loss, using “it’s weird that a mortal beat a god” when the whole thing with gods in Greek mythology is that they’re parallels to humans. That’s why they have emotions, human anatomy, feel pain, and bleed (even if it is ichor that comes out). There are multiple cases of gods being beaten by humans, primarily demigods, but still humans—MORTALS. What makes them so powerful is their domain. Take that away? They’re practically powerless.

Poseidon is shown to be arrogant, claiming that the only reason he’s still hunting Odysseus (DESPITE killing his men, teaching his lesson, and even likely knowing about the brutal siren deaths) is because “the top dog can’t be seen letting his prey go. How else can I send the message that I’m a big dog? It’ll ruin my reputation!” He’s a cocky bastard, playing with his prey, telling Odysseus to get in the water because it’s more entertaining to him than just getting his revenge and killing him then and there. He talks like he’s never felt pain in his life and doesn’t think he ever will because “the top dog is untouchable”.

But he forgets that he needs his domain, needs his range to keep himself from losing. When Odysseus pulls the same trick with the wind bag (which he should’ve seen coming), he isn’t ready, because he’s never had to fight that fight. Odysseus has, and he has the anger to push himself farther. The god gets downed (which has happened many times with many gods as discussed earlier), and he still acts cocky. Odysseus opened the bag. He can’t leave. But that knowledge—knowledge that he’s stuck here and will eventually die anyway—allows Odysseus to make his decision. He can hurt Poseidon for as long as he’s capable of, make him suffer just as much because, hey, he’s going to die anyway, right?

Now, Poseidon has an out. He can get rid of the storm before Odysseus even lays a hand on him, let him go home, and flood Ithaca like planned. But he doesn’t, because he’s so in his own head that he doesn’t realize the position he’s in. And then Odysseus makes the first stab, and then the other. It hurts, even more because, like I said, Poseidon has probably never felt this pain before. And Odysseus doesn’t plan on stopping, not until Poseidon calls off the storm. He’ll go until his arms stop working, and if Poseidon hadn’t given in, he probably would’ve.

Poseidon can’t stop him either because the wounds are made before the others can heal. Does this punishment seem familiar? It should, because it’s the exact same one given to Prometheus by Zeus. Truthfully, it’s a punishment made for a god.

I should probably stop here because this has gone on way too long, but I do understand why some people might think it’s weird. We’re raised to believe that any god is untouchable, that they’re all-powerful and incapable of harm, especially at human hands. But that’s not Greek mythology. Gods aren’t capable of death, but they are capable of suffering, and a lot of them do. Just because the one suffering this time is one of the “big three” doesn’t mean it’s unrealistic.

Epic’s message isn’t the same as the original, and it never has been. It’s about what you’re willing to sacrifice, how far you’re willing to go for your own gain, and what the repercussions are when you do. Poseidon really kick started that message hard, and I think it’s poetic that it ends with him facing the outcome of that message himself.

Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves, but it’s not the same being on the receiving end, is it?

[fear-is-truth]

how do you think patrick will react when you try to break things off with him?

breaking up with patrick bateman .ᐟ.ᐟ

tw ; mentions of drug use, homicide

a/n: apologies for the word salad.. my brain is kinda fried from my classes. also he’s such a pretty crier

𝜗ϱ ┆ denial & gaslighting

his immediate reaction would likely be disbelief. the idea of someone rejecting him, particularly someone he views as an extension of his life, would be incomprehensible to him. this disbelief would manifest as condescension and dismissal, accompanied by gaslighting.

“you’re leaving me?” he’d say with a strained smile, eyes narrowing to slits. “that’s ridiculous. you don’t mean that.”

patrick wouldn’t process the emotional weight of your decision, instead assuming that you’re acting irrationally or that something external has influenced you. his need to maintain control would drive him to undermine your perspective, likely accusing you of being under the influence of drugs.

“have you been doing too much cocaine? or maybe those diet pills? you’re not thinking clearly, darling.”

this gaslighting would be less about convincing you and more about reinforcing his own denial. patrick lives in a world where his perception is reality, and your decision to leave disrupts that. denial is his first line of defense.

𝜗ϱ ┆ manipulation & desperation

as the conversation continues, patrick would pivot to emotional manipulation. while he lacks true empathy, he is an expert at imitating emotional responses to “fit in”. he’d beg you to reconsider, framing his argument that appeals to your sense of loyalty or guilt.

“think about everything i’ve done for you. everything we’ve had together. you can’t just walk away.”

if manipulation doesn’t work, his desperation would become more overt. while patrick is typically composed, cracks in his facade could begin to show. you might see a flash of raw panic in his eyes.

“you don’t know what you’re doing. you’re making a mistake.”

𝜗ϱ ┆ begging

patrick would eventually resort to begging, and this is where the irony comes in—remember the time he dumped evelyn with an air of theatrical superiority, telling her that she’s “simply not terribly important” to him.

“you can’t do this to me. please, don’t go. we can work this out—whatever this is, we can fix it. i’ll change.”

of course, he is incapable of real change, and his promises would ring hollow. but the desperation in his voice would feel oddly genuine.

𝜗ϱ ┆“i need to return some videotapes.”

when it becomes clear that he can’t sway you, patrick would retreat, unwilling to let you witness the full extent of his unraveling. maintaining appearances is critical, even in moments of personal crisis. with a curt, almost robotic tone, he’d excuse himself with his signature non sequitur:

“i need to return some videotapes.”

this statement, bizarre and out of place, serves two purposes. first, it allows him to escape the confrontation without completely breaking down in front of you. second, it reaffirms his facade of control.

𝜗ϱ ┆ private despair

once alone, patrick would no longer be able to hold himself together. the breakup would be a complete fracturing of his identity. while he outwardly projects confidence, his inner world is fragile and deeply insecure. your rejection would strip away the validation he relies on to maintain his ego. he’d cry—silent, bitter tears of frustration and humiliation.

𝜗ϱ ┆ homicide as a coping mechanism

but patrick is incapable of processing emotions in a healthy way, so the tears wouldn’t lead to introspection or change. instead, they’d fuel a darker spiral—he’d channel his feelings of loss into compulsive, destructive behaviour. violence is often an outlet for him, and your departure could serve as a catalyst for a spree of homicidal acts. (e.g killing homeless people)

[shanastoryteller]

i'm going to move on from supernatural posting, i swear to god, but first i'm going to talk about ep 9x07 bad boys

the episode itself is fine and good (i mean it's another example of dean having a support network while sam can't have anyone and dean keeping secrets while when sam does it it's the worst betrayal ever but that's not what this is about and sometimes i think about what this show did two earnest, loving traumatized characters by turning them into the most tragic versions of themselves and - ok, this really isn't what this post is about)

but fandom interpretation of this episode actually drives me up a wall because it does a disservice to literally every character

one, john did not leave them without enough money for food. dean gambled it and lost it. there's nothing in canon to say that john was taking longer than expected, that they were running out of money, none of that. dean gambled food money and lost it and then tried to steal to make up for it. he was 16 when this happened and it was a bad decision but i don't think he should be at all vilified for this. he made a dumb mistake and then tried to fix it with another dumb mistake. john was right to be mad and sam was also right to tell him that he shouldn't beat himself up about it. just like with shtriga - yeah, dean was climbing the walls stuck in that hotel room. but you know who else was stuck in that hotel room? sam. and he didn't get a break to go play at the arcade. again, i'm not blaming dean here, he shouldn't have been stuck taking care of his brother that young and he was a kid and john leaving his his children behind while hunting a child eater, whether he was using them for bait or not, is crazy. but dean stealing food wasn't about john's neglect and all the sacrifices dean had to make for sam. it was about him trying to fix his fuck up

two, and this is the one that really gets me, dean didn't go back with john because he had to take care of sam

listen. listen to me. i am speaking from experience when i say this

parentified siblings are still, first and foremost, siblings. especially with only 4 years between them. the show shameless i think did an absolutely excellent job with this and is why i love the first few seasons of it so much. fiona is without a doubt parentified, she is raising those kids, but she's also clearly their sister not their mother

i know later seasons dean and fandom like to make it seem like dean literally raised sam and john was just a background figure but like. that's not realistic, and frankly doesn't even make sense

the reason dean leaves sonny and goes with john isn't because he feels like he has to keep him sam safe. it's isn't because he feels like he has to raise him. it's because he loves him

you are reducing dean to the most pathetic woe is me archetype with this interpretation and ridding him of all his rich loyalty and care and love to saddle him instead with comparatively flat duty. dean is more than sam's caretaker. he's his brother

there's also no reason for dean to feel this way. he just massively fucked up in taking care of sam - that's why he's with sonny in the first place. john has alternate people to take care of sam when he can't do it himself, as he has just proven, and while i don't think we should turn a couple teenage mistakes into making dean incapable, dean absolutely would - and did! he carries every fuck up regarding sam with him! so right now he's really, really low when it comes to his own estimation to take care of sam and leaving sonny because of that doesn't make any sense

but he looks at his brother and is reminded how much he missed him and loves him and realizes staying means he loses his brother. the good and the bad. so he goes, because he loves sam more than anything else

this is also why sam leaving for stanford cuts him so deep. that's why this moment is a parallel to that rather than being unrelated. stanford isn't about sam leaving dean even though he has a duty to care of him, because he doesn't. dean's 22 and at this point is always hunting with their father so there's no reason for sam to believe his presence is necessary for either john or dean's safety

no, dean's mad because he chose his love for his brother over a normal life and sam didn't

(sam didn't want to choose at all but this isn't about him)

anyway. dean fucks up sometimes and john sucks but not quite in the ways fandom thinks and dean loves his brother past reason or sense

[eddiegettingshot]

like ok sorry but can we cut eddie a little slack. he literally is trying. this is him trying. imagine the situation from his perspective: he fucked up and hurt chris and chris asked to leave so he let him go. it's been three months and the only thing his parents—who have driven into his head for literally his entire life that he is incapable of doing the right thing or making the right decisions—have shown him and told him is that chris is happy there. he has a life there. he's got all this good stuff going for him, stuff eddie didn't or couldn't give him (it's not like his dad was ever around to teach him to play chess). at least chris is answering his calls now, which is more than he got a couple months ago, so he gets to see in real time how settled chris has become. if you were in his position, and terrified of hurting your child again. would you tell your parents to fuck off. would you feel like you could ask your kid to come home. or do anything or say anything that could theoretically make your kid feel even a little bit guilty or worried or upset about his choice to leave because you hurt him. on a human level (and the level of a parent with very real trauma) he's in an impossible position!!! as far as he's concerned the self-punishment has been to stay away from chris altogether when he, as a father, needs his son. of course eddie doesn't want to move to el paso. but the sacrifice here isn't for chris's sake, it's for his own, and he's making it what little information and enormous obstacles (demon parents) he has. yes eddie is doing something objectively crazy. but it's quite literally the only thing he feels like he can do to allow himself. like. a crumb of happiness. be nice to himmmmmmm

[frozenmoonshine]

TR boys' unexpected/random red flags headcanon:

Just some crack and slander for the humor purposes. As always, don't take it too seriously, and have fun with it at least half as much as I did writing it!

Since I obviously need to spell this out for some of you, even though it's literally in the title of the post - these are the red flags you wouldn't normally expect from them! That's the whole point of them being unexpected. So don't go telling me how I missed the mark with some characters, or how their red flags are something else. Yeah, we all know the obvious ones, but why would I state the obvious?!

TW: F!reader; implied mysogyny; mentions of DV, cheating, and general toxic behavior.

🚩Mikey - proposes on the second date.

🚩Draken - never talks about himself whatsoever. Even when you directly ask him to open up about what's troubling him, he's still difficult and avoids conversation.

🚩Baji - mama's boy. At first, it looks sweet, how he cares about and respects his mother, but soon you realize that he is dependant on her, and cannot make any decisions bigger than what to eat on his own, without "consulting with his mom". Silver lining is that Ryouko is an amazing, lovely woman, but you don't exactly want to date both the mother and the son at the same time, do you?

🚩Chifuyu - overromanticizes everything, then gets mad at you if things don't turn out irl the same they were in his imagination.

🚩Mitsuya - really damn cheap. Like, ok, I know you grew up poor, but going out once a month won't bankrupt you! (You're not even asking him to pay for you or anything like that, but he just refuses to step even one milimeter out of his frugal ways!)

🚩Hakkai - aside from the obvious red flag (you get a package deal of Yuzuha and Mitsuya as well, if you are dating Hakkai), he can also be incredibly self-absorbed and condescending sometimes, thinking he's so much better than you, etc.

🚩Pah-chin & 🚩Peh-yan - putting them together cause they have the same red flag - if you date one of them, the other one will third wheel all of your dates, no exeptions. Might as well just go poly and date them both at this point!

🚩Smiley - refers to women as "females".

🚩Angry - doesn't let you do anything on your own/overprotective. Look, Souya, it's nice that you're being a gentleman, but do you really think I'm incapable of getting a glass of water for myself?! His behaviour can be incredibly stifling and suffocating.

🚩Mucho - won't ever let you pick a date spot cause he's convinced he knows the best. You always end up doing what he wants for dates, or you don't go on a date at all.

🚩Haruchiyo - yeah, sure, he's got more red flags than China, but the not so expected one is that he's incredibly fussy and naggy about the smallest of things. "That's not how you put the trash bag in the can!" "You folded the laundry wrong! Look how I do it!" "Wipe the counter with this, not that!" "Don't leave your hair everywhere! I don't wanna live with a cat!" And so on and so forth, it feels like you are living with your parent(s) all over again!

🚩Hanma - another one with enough red flags to call it a carnival, sure, but the one that catches you off guard is just how jealous and possessive he is. "Where are you going?" "Why is your dress so short?" "You can't go out with male company wearing your tits out!" "Why are you hiding your phone?" "Who's that?" and so on and so forth, you get the idea.

🚩Kazutora - yet another walking red flag in a row (at least his unhealed self), but even as an adult (healed) he still retains that aggression from his teens and gets into random street/bar fights semi-regularly. Him coming back home bloody and bruised is not a rare occurrence at all.

🚩Kisaki - cheats. No idea how he manages to, provided that he looks like... well, that, but he still does.

🚩Taiju - a religious freak prone to domestic violence... what more red flags can you even ask for? None, indeed. But what you don't expect on top of all that is his complete lack of manners and just how loud and embarrassing he can be in public.

🚩Inupi - rude to the waitstaff.

🚩Koko - never got over his ex, stuck on her forever, and cannot ever be fully present in his current relationship. Compares you to his ex all the time, every other person he dated after her was just an unsuccessful rebound.

🚩Izana - does he even have any green ones? Likely not. But what you wouldn't exactly expect from him right away, given all the other red flags that come into front upon the first contact - is that he's a bad mansplainer. "You probably don't know how the betta fish do this thing where..." - Izana, I'm literally a marine biologist.

🚩Kakuchou - breaks up with you over the smallest things. He missed your call cause he didn't hear his phone ring while in the traffic? - He's not good enough for you and you two should break up. He was late 5 minutes to your date because Izana needed his help with something? - He's lowkey ready to commit seppuku, and of course, dramatically breaks up with you. It's tiring, honestly.

🚩Ran - gaslighter and manipulator par exellence! Undiagnozed NPD, but the symptoms are everywhere.

🚩Rindou - loves the gym more than you. Obsessed with working out and body building, won't eat normal food, spends all time in front of the mirror flexing and "checking his gains". Will either try to "get you into fitness" (force you to act the same way he does) or constantly tell you that you "don't understand" just how important it is to him. Is your 10th workout this week really more important than our anniversary, tho, Rindou?

🚩Mocchi - manspreads all the time, and manspreads badly. He's also that type that won't move away from the sidewalk if a woman is coming the opposite way.

🚩Madarame - probably not unexpected, but he's the biggest, worst incel of all. Lives in the manosphere and inhales the alpha bro bullshit podcasts.

🚩South - judges and publicly makes fun of your music taste. It doesn't matter what you listen to, unless it's 101% exactly the same as his taste, he'll be a real bitch about it. Of course, don't even dream about getting a hold of the aux cord!

🚩Shinichiro - doesn't shower regularly. Idk Shin, maybe your lack of personal hygiene was the reason for all those rejections so far? Just some food for thought...

🚩Takeomi - yet another one that's redder than the red army, but what you don't expect is how much he infantilizes you, especially if you are younger than him! Even if it's just one year age difference between you, he'll act all patronizing and constantly emphasise his "rich life experience" and tell you how "you don't understand some things because you are (too) young".

🚩Wakasa - secretly insecure about his height and gets super jealous if he sees you talking to a tall guy. Doesn't even matter if it's your blood relative or a random stranger asking directions in the street - Waka isn't having any of that. He'll sulk and jab at you for the whole day, never saying what the actual problem is.

🚩Benkei - Cannot find/keep a proper job to save his life! Got into some kind of beef with every single potential employer, so he's doomed to working at the gym for the rest of his days.

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Tw: little bit of angst (fluff is always there, I don't even write it in the tw anymore)

Series masterlist

3 years earlier

Your apartment felt suffocating. You stood by the kitchen counter, staring at the sink, trying to breathe through the frustration that had been building for probably months. Jason was pacing in the living room, the sound of his feet on the hardwood floor sharp against the silence.

"Why is this always so difficult with you?" His voice was rising, the anger behind it unmistakable. "I try to talk to you, to explain how I feel, but it’s like I’m speaking to a wall. You don’t listen."

You turned, your patience wearing thin. "I am listening, Jason. But you can’t just lash out every time things don’t go your way. It doesn’t work like that."

Jason’s face twisted in disbelief. "You think I’m the one causing problems? You think I’m just making this up?" He threw his hands up, exasperated. "You don’t even seem to care when something’s wrong. You shut down every time I try to talk to you about it!"

You let out a slow breath, trying to hold on to the last shreds of calm you had left. "That’s not true. I care. But you’re trying to control everything. You are trying to control me, and it’s exhausting. Every time we have a disagreement, you make it feel like it’s my fault, like I’m the one who’s doing everything wrong."

Jason scoffed, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Oh, so now I’m controlling? That’s rich. I try to make things work, I try to talk to you, but all you do is shut me out."

"Don’t act like this is just about us not communicating," you snapped, your voice shaking with frustration. "It’s not just one thing, Jason. It’s everything. The way you treat me like I’m supposed to be available on your terms, the way you talk down to me like I’m incapable of making my own decisions. You’re always making everything about you and your needs, but you never ask how I feel about anything."

Jason’s eyes darkened, but you saw something else there too—fear. Maybe he wasn’t ready to face what he was losing, but you had already made up your mind. "You’re overreacting," he muttered, taking a step toward you, but you didn’t back away.

"No, Jason. I’m done," you said, your voice more firm than you felt. "This isn’t working anymore. I can’t keep doing this. I don’t want to keep doing this."

Jason froze, his brow furrowed. "What are you talking about? You don’t mean that. I love you. I need you."

Your chest tightened at the words,. "We shouldn't feel the love so painfully. I shouldn’t. You don’t love me, Jason. This isn’t love," you said. "Love isn’t trying to control someone, love isn’t belittling them every chance you get, love isn’t making them feel small. You don’t get to hide behind 'I love you' and make it okay."

His face twisted in disbelief, like he was trying to comprehend what you were saying. "You’re throwing all of that away? After everything?"

You shook your head slowly, the tears you’d been holding back threatening to break free. But you didn’t let them. Not now. "I’m choosing myself, Jason. I can’t keep letting you walk all over me and thinking it’s okay. I’m done with this and I am truly sorry things didn't go in a different way, trust me."

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at you like he couldn’t believe what was happening. His eyes flicked to the door and back to you, his lips parted like he was about to say something, but the words didn’t come.

"Just go," you said, your voice barely a whisper but stronger than it had been in weeks. "Please. I need you to leave."

Jason hesitated, his fists clenched at his sides. "You’re making a huge mistake," he muttered, his voice low and strained. "You can’t just throw this all away. You’ll regret it."

You shook your head. "No. I won’t. I’m not doing this anymore."

He stood there for a long moment, and then, with a final glance at you, he turned toward the door. It clicked open, and then shut.

The sound echoed in the silence of your apartment, and for a moment, you just stood there, your back pressed against the door, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You told yourself you had made the right decision, that you had done what was best for you. And yet, as the seconds ticked by, something inside you twisted.

The tears came in slow waves at first, and then, like a dam breaking, they poured out. You didn’t try to stop them. You didn’t even know how to. You sank to the floor, knees pulled to your chest, burying your face in your arms as the sobs wracked your body.

You had told him to leave. You had closed the door on him. You had made the decision to walk away from a relationship that has never been healthy.

And still, your heart ached like it had been ripped out of your chest. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself that you were done, that you were stronger than this, your heart betrayed you. You had loved him. You loved him.

And as much as you tried to convince yourself that the way he treated you—his lack of respect, his jealousy, his need to control everything—had been enough to make you forget the love you once shared, your heart couldn’t let go.

You loved him. Even if you didn't want to.

One week after he stepped out of your house, you got the news that he left the city to open his shop somewhere else. And you haven't heard from him since.

Now

You were still staring out the window, frozen, as the realization hit you like a punch to the gut.

Jason’s Ink Studio.

The name was loud and clear in your mind, a flashback to everything you had worked so hard to leave behind. You hadn’t expected this, not today, not now. You never thought he could get back in town, and yet, here he was.

Your gaze fixed on him before your mind could even catch up with the shock in your chest. He was standing on the other side of the road, talking to someone, his face in profile as he lifted a package—large, wrapped in brown paper.

His hair, lighter now than it had been back then, was short but messy, like he’d run his fingers through the light brown locks and forgotten to smooth it down. The buzz cut he once wore was gone, replaced with something more grown-up, but still familiar.

He was wearing a simple black sweater with the sleeves rolled up, revealing the tattoos that snake around his forearms, ink you remember well. His skin is still a bit tanned, like it always was.

His eyes, those blue-grey eyes that had always caught the light in that almost magnetic way, were hidden from now, but you knew they were shining under the morning light.

You didn’t want to look, but you couldn’t help it. As he turned, walking toward the door, his eyes flicked up, right toward the window where you were standing. For a split second, you could have sworn his gaze landed on you.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t move.

You weren’t sure if he’d actually seen you, or if you were just imagining it. But in that moment, everything around you seemed to stop. You held your breath. You didn’t want to react. You didn’t want to acknowledge him, not in this place, not now. You were happy with Noah. You didn't want to see him everyday in front of your workplace.

For a moment you both stood there, and then, just like that, he disappeared through the door of his own shop.

You exhaled slowly, the air feeling thick in your lungs. Your palms were suddenly clammy, and you found yourself gripping the counter for stability. He was here. Of course he was. Back there like nothing had changed. But so much had changed. You had changed.

You stared at the door he had just walked through, a sense of unease twisting in your stomach, still trying to wrap your head around the sight of Jason standing outside. It had been years, but seeing him again—especially in front of your café—stirred up a mess of old memories. Why the hell was he back?

Noah’s voice suddenly cut through your thoughts. “Hey, you okay?”

You blinked, snapping back to reality. "Yeah. I'm fine," you muttered, brushing off the question. But before you could add anything else, Grace, leaning over the counter, caught sight of what was going on on the other side of the window.

"Oh well—look who’s back."

You stiffened. Noah looked over, clearly confused. “Who?”

You let out a sharp exhale. “You remember when I told you about my ex?”

Noah raised an eyebrow. "The tattoo artist who treated you like shit and left the town to chase a bigger paycheck?"

“Yeah.”

Grace, without missing a beat, pointed at the window. “Him. Right there.”

Noah turned, following her finger, and the look on his face shifted. His eyes narrowed, “Of course he’s back.” He muttered.

You felt your stomach tighten. “I don't know why he's here. But I don't fucking want him here. Not in front of my café."

Grace, clearly enjoying the situation a bit too much, leaned in with a smirk. “I wonder if he already knows about your ‘charming’ new... rockstar boyfriend with pink nailpolish here?”

Noah shifted on his feet, his expression tightening ever so slightly. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Grace shrugged, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, nothing. Just wondering if the guy’s gonna get jealous seeing you’ve moved on... to someone else.”

You felt the heat rise to your face, and before you could respond, Noah cleared his throat. His voice, though calm, had an edge to it. “Yeah, well, that’s none of his business.”

The casualness of his tone didn’t escape you, but there was something else—something in the way he said it that made you wonder if he was a little too quick to defend you. Or maybe he was just annoyed by the whole situation, too.

Grace watched the two of you, clearly entertained. "Oh, I get it now. High-school reunion vibes, huh? A bit embarassing and awkward?"

You shot her a glare. "Don’t even joke about that."

Noah’s posture had shifted. He was still looking at the window, but the way he stood now had more tension in it. “If he thinks he can just show up and start making trouble, I’ll deal with it,” he said, the words sounding like more of a promise than a suggestion.

You blinked at him, taken aback by the sudden protective tone in his voice. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate it—but why was he getting so worked up?

“I don’t need you to deal with it,” you said quickly. “I can handle it myself, don't worry.”

Grace leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh, I’m sure you can. But... still, if he tries anything, I’m pretty sure he’ll wish he hadn’t.” She finished the sentence looking at Noah.

You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the tension building between you and Noah. You could feel his eyes on you, but you weren’t sure if it was out of concern or something else entirely. Was he already jealous? Without even seeing Jason yet?

“He’s not gonna try anything,” you said, trying to reassure both you and Noah. “I’m done with him. For good. It's almost been four fucking years. I moved on. He probably did that too. Maybe he moved back with... I don't know, his wife? Who knows.”

Noah just nodded, staying silent. You knew his mind was full of thoughts but that wasn't the right moment to talk about them.

You stared at the window again, watching your ex as he spoke to someone outside, completely unaware of the tension building inside the café. The knot in your stomach only tightened.

You kept working after Noah left to work on something with the band.

The café was busy and you used that as a distraction from the knot of anxiety in your stomach. You couldn’t shake the image of Jason standing outside.

You busied yourself behind the counter as you made drinks and refilled pastries, trying not to look up at the window every few minutes. But every time the door opened, your heart jumped, and you couldn’t help but glance over.

A couple walked in, laughing together. The man’s grin reminded you too much of Jason’s—slightly crooked, genuine, and a little too familiar. For a split second, your heart skipped, and you felt the familiar ache in your chest. But as they made their way to the counter, you saw it wasn’t him. You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

"Can I help you?" you asked, your voice a little shaky as you forced a smile.

The man ordered a cappuccino, and you moved through the motions, trying to push the thought of Jason from your mind. But every time the door opened, you couldn’t stop your heart from skipping. You looked, always half-expecting him to walk through.

The bell above the door chimed again.

The man entering had brown short hair, his face half-obscured by the collar of his jacket, but for a moment, your mind screamed, It’s him.

You froze, watching as he approached the counter, but when he turned his face toward you, your stomach sank. It wasn’t Jason. Just another stranger.

You forced yourself to breathe, to smile. To get it together. You couldn’t keep reacting like this.

Minutes passed. Then another hour. The tension in your chest never quite eased, but you managed to focus on the customers, the tasks at hand, your routine.

Jason wasn’t coming in. He couldn’t be.

And as the day wore on, and the sun began to set, you didn’t see him again, not even outside the window.

You kept working, moving through the motions. But the truth was, the sense of unease wouldn’t leave. Every time you heard the door, part of you braced for the possibility that it was him. The man who had once been everything, but now felt like a stranger.

But he didn’t come. Not today.

Noah was sprawled on the couch in the band's living room, casually scrolling through his phone while Ruffilo sat across from him. The quiet hum of the house felt comfortable, but Noah’s mind was clearly elsewhere.

Finally, after a few minutes of silence, Noah set his phone down with a frustrated sigh.

“What's wrong, man?” Nick asked casually.

Noah ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just... Y/N’s ex is back in town,” he said, his tone less than enthusiastic. “And he opened up a tattoo shop right across from her café.”

Nick’s eyebrows shot up. "Wait, that guy? The tattoo artist?"

“Yeah,” Noah confirmed, leaning back against the couch. “Jason. He’s been gone for a while, but now he’s back. And of course, right across from where Y/n works.”

Nick nodded thoughtfully. "That’s... uh, that's gotta be awkward."

Noah rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, it’s not great. And I can’t help but feel like something’s going to happen. It just doesn’t feel good."

Nick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I get it, man. But, you don’t have to worry about that. Y/N’s with you now, and she’s moved on. She’s not gonna let some guy from her past mess things up.”

Noah hesitated. "I know. But... I don’t know, man. I can’t shake this feeling. Ever since I got involved with Y/N I’ve been scared of losing her. I’ve always been scared of it, after... well, after everything that happened with Hannah." He took a deep breath and looked at Nick, his expression more vulnerable than usual. “But now... with Jason back in the picture, I feel it more than ever. I don’t know what’s gonna happen, and it scares the shit out of me.”

Nick studied him for a moment, then leaned back into his seat, shaking his head slightly. "You’re doing it again," he said, his voice calm but firm. "You’re thinking about things that haven’t even happened yet. I get that you're worried, but listen, you don’t have to keep carrying that fear around."

"I know I sound like a broken record,” Noah said, rubbing his face with his hands. "I just... I love her, man. I don’t want anything to mess that up."

Nick’s tone softened. “I get it. I do. But you don’t have to be scared of losing her. You’ve got a solid thing going. Y/N chose you. And she’s with you now. Jason’s part of her past, and that’s where he’s gonna stay. She’s moved on."

Noah let out a long breath. "I know. But it’s still hard not to worry, you know?"

Nick gave him a small smile. "Yeah, I get it. But trust me, man. You’re enough. You don’t have to live in fear of something that might never even happen. You’re already doing everything right."

Noah nodded slowly. “Thanks, man. I needed that.” He stood up, stretching. “I should go pick up Luna. She’s probably starving by now.”

Nick chuckled, standing up with him. "Good idea. But hey, remember, if you need to talk, you know where I am."

Noah smiled. "Appreciate it."

With a final wave, Noah walked out the door.

Things would work out, he hoped. But he still couldn’t shake the weight of his own worries.

He didn't want to get hurt again.

When Noah stepped into the daycare, his eyes quickly found Luna sitting at a small table in the corner, her little brow furrowed in concentration as she worked on something with a pile of crayons scattered in front of her. She caught sight of him immediately and waved enthusiastically.

"Daddy!" she squealed, bouncing out of her seat.

Noah grinned, walking over to scoop her up in his arms. "Hey, sweetheart," he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Ready to go home?"

Luna nodded excitedly, but before Noah could move, Ms. Harper, one of the teachers, approached with a warm smile.

"Noah, do you have a second?" she asked. "We had a little project today, and I wanted to show you something."

Noah glanced at Luna, who ran off to rejoin a friend in a nearby play area.

"Of course," he replied, following Ms. Harper to the small corner of the room as she handed Noah a folded piece of paper.

"We had the kids draw pictures of their families,” she explained as Noah opened the paper carefully. “Luna was really proud of hers, and we wanted to make sure you saw it."

The paper was an explosion of color, with vibrant swirls of pink, blue, yellow, and green. In the sky, there was not a sun (like it usually was in kids' drawings) but a moon.

The clouds were big and puffy and a small house stood in the middle of the page.

Noah’s heart warmed as he looked at the three main figures in the foreground. One was small, the other two larger. The shapes were simple—a circle for each head, a few lines for arms and legs, but they were immediately recognizable. A man, a woman, and a smaller figure.

"That’s us, isn’t it?" Noah asked, looking up from the drawing to meet Ms. Harper’s eyes. His voice was soft, filled with warmth.

The teacher smiled and nodded. "Yep, Luna said it was ‘Daddy and Y/N.’ She was so proud of it."

Noah’s heart swelled as he looked back down at the drawing. The way Luna included you made him smile. "I love it," he murmured.

As he admired the picture, his eyes wandered to the background. He noticed several small shapes scattered on the horizon, almost like trees but not quite. They looked out of place compared to the other elements in the drawing, and his curiosity piqued.

"What are those?" he asked, pointing at the figures.

Ms. Harper chuckled softly. “She said those are her uncles,” she explained.

Noah’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, a laugh escaping him. "Her uncles?"

"Yes," she replied, grinning. "She said they’re the uncles who love her."

Noah couldn’t help but laugh too, a warm, genuine smile spreading across his face. "Well, I'll tell them Luna included them in the family," he said, shaking his head with amusement. "This is perfect."

Luna, who had been playing with her friend, returned to him just as he was carefully folding the drawing.

"Dad" she asked eagerly, "did you see my picture? What do you think?"

Noah beamed down at her. "I love it, Luna. I think it’s the best drawing ever." He picked her up with one arm and kissed the top of her head. "You’ve made me so happy with this."

Luna’s face lit up, her grin stretching wide across her face. She hugged him tightly, her tiny arms wrapping around his neck. "I’m glad you like it!"

The teacher gave them one last smile before stepping away.

"Alright, Lu," Noah said, shifting Luna slightly in his arms, "let’s go home."

The soft glow from the TV illuminated the dim room as you and Noah lay on his bed, wrapped up in the warmth of his blankets as Luna was already sleeping in her bedroom.

The gentle hum of some anime playing in the background was more of a comfort than entertainment at this point. You were curled up beside him, your head resting on his chest, the familiar weight of his arm draped over you. His hand idly brushed through your hair as you watched the fight happening on the screen, though you noticed he wasn’t quite as engaged as usual.

You shifted slightly, glancing up at him. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, unfocused, almost as if his mind had wandered far away from the bright colors on the TV. You could feel the subtle tension in his muscles, the quiet distance that had come over him.

"Hey," you murmured, your voice soft but steady. "Mrs. Linn asked to come see her sometime, yesterday. We talked a bit when I was about to get into my car to go back home. I forgot to tell you. She seemed such a sweet lady." You smiled, hoping to bring his attention back to the moment, but his gaze didn’t move from the ceiling.

Noah’s lips tugged up slightly, but it was more of a reflex than a genuine response. "Yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve seen her," he said absently. “Maybe we could all go sometime, say hi." His tone didn’t carry the usual warmth, though. His mind was still clearly elsewhere.

You frowned, now fully aware of the shift in his mood. You grabbed the remote and paused the anime, the room suddenly feeling quieter, even more intimate with the absence of noise.

"Is it about Jason?" you asked softly, almost afraid of what his reaction might be.

Noah didn’t look at you, but his head gave the smallest nod, confirming what you already suspected. His jaw tightened, and you could tell his thoughts were running in circles, probably replaying some old memories.

You let out a quiet sigh, lifting your hand to gently trace his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin. "You don’t have to worry, Noah," you said. "I love you. I love Luna. I love the life we’re building together. He’s a ghost from the past, and that’s all he’s ever going to be now." You pressed a soft kiss to his naked chest, hoping the words would reach him, would soothe all his worries.

For a long moment, Noah didn’t respond, but then he shifted, turning to face you. His eyes were soft but looked tired. "I know," he said quietly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "It’s just... when I realized he was back earlier, I don’t know... it just stirred up a lot of shit that is still there. You are important to me. I don't wanna lose you."

You smiled gently, sliding your hand to his face and cupping it tenderly, your fingers brushing his stubbled cheek. "You’re allowed to feel however you feel. And if you wanna talk about anything, I'm here." you whispered. "But don't think I'm gonna leave you. I’m right here. I'll be here until the day you'll tell me to go away." You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

And as if in response, his lips curved into a smile, a soft, real smile. You moved away slightly, your gaze meeting his.

"There it is," you teased, pressing more kisses to his face, his cheeks, his nose. His eyes closed, and he chuckled, the sound warm and genuine.

"Finally," you grinned. "I didn’t hear you laugh since this morning. I was starting to worry."

Noah’s laughter filled the quiet space between you two, and you thought, in that moment, that everything would be okay.

Even if Jason was back in town, he was still part of your past and that's where he was supposed to stay.

🍪 a cookie for you if you caught the little bmth reference

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @mathfairchild1 @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lma1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme

TBAF Tags: @aubrey-melinoe @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans @concreteangel92 @iconic-taurus @niicoleleigh @cheyyyyr @supersquirrel1996 @respectfulrebel @alwaysfighforwhoyouare @clickmedead @missduffsblog

[aamircoeur]

stop and stare ー Ken Sato rockstar au.

wherein someone in the crowd catches the eye of kenji sato, the lead guitarist and main vocalist of the band kaijus.

rakista kenji so real. sfw, one-shot. gn!reader, band!au. UNEDITED

edit: check out this art by @preatzells !! https://shorturl.at/kpMZd

the cheers started when each of the band members made their way up to the stage, but the volume of the screams only reached their climax when kenji sato made his way towards the center with his white electric guitar, a small wave directed to the crowd, and his million-dollar smile.

finally done prepping their instruments and themselves, their first song started with a beat from the drums, with the rhythm guitarist following its lead. kenji sato held the mic with one hand and his guitar with the other as he leaned in to the mic to sing.

ー "the mirror's image tells me its own time. but, i'm not finished, 'cause you're not by my side."

you had your hand up high, holding your phone while it recorded the band. you were a few rows behind the barricade, right at the middle, parallel to where kenji sato was singing.

ー "and as i arrived i thought i saw you leaving, carryin' your shoes,"

kenji was swinging his hips slowly as he sung and strummed his guitar, his rings reflecting the light of the spotlight that he was under. his eyes kept wandering within the crowd, looking at the row that was furthest from the stage before flicking his sight to the ones at front.

ー "decided that once again i was just dreamin' of bumpin' into you."

he took a step away from the mic before dropping his head low along with his torso for a headbang, before coming up to the mic, his rings scratching onto the windscreen.

ー "now it's three in the morning, and i'm try'na change your mind,"

you lowered your hand and stopped your phone from recording to stare at the way his fingers plucked at the strings of his guitar.

ー "left you multiple missed calls and to my message, you reply,"

it was as if kenji's body was in complete sync with the song that his band was playing; the way his chest rose and fell after and before every lyric that he sung, his hair, untamable, swaying and dropping to his face while he moved his head to the rythym.

ー ""why'd you only call me when you're high?""

you sung along.

ー ""hi, why'd you only call me when you're high?""

you were absolutely starstruck. working overtime at your job was definitely worth it just to afford vip tickets for your first concert now that you're in the middle of kaiju's crowd with kenji sato singing his heart out in front of you.

ー "somewhere darker, talkin' the same shite. i need a partner, well, are you out tonight? it's harder and harder to get you to listen, more i get through the gears."

you watched him, not caring of the pushes that the people beside you gave you out of their own excitedness. staring at him, the way he ran his hand through his hair for the nth time, and the way that his black-colored eyes ran it's way through the crowdー

ー "incapable of makin' alright decisions, and havin' bad ideas."

before it landed on you.

ー "now it's three in the mornin' and i'm try'na change your mind,"

your lips parted and your breath hitched at the eye contact. he was staring right at you.

ー "left you multiple missed calls and to my message you reply,"

his eyes quickly broke the contact, making you remember that you were actually allowed to breathe. you ran your hand through the side of your hair, tucking it behind your ear as an attempt to compose yourself.

ー ""why'd you only call me when you're high?""

without missing a beat, his eyes were on you again. flustered, you looked away to see the bassist smiling as they played, then your eyes were back to looking at him.

ー ""hi, why'd you only call me when you're high?""

to your surprise, his eyes were still on you. you felt as if there was a spotlight on you, too. everyone else, including the music that was playing, were nothing but background noise to you at the moment. kenji sato was looking at you.

taking a deep breath, you looked up at him and smiled, mouthing a simple "hello," to the vocalist.

you saw kenji sato smile from ear to ear before leaning into the microphone. "hello, baby."

[msfantasy-comics]

The Ex gets Married

Bruce Wayne x Ex-Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bruce breaks up with Y/n and ends up in a tumultuous relationship with Selina. Bruce finds out about his ex-girlfriend moving on and is heartbroken.

Warning: Bruce does not have a happy ending.

Many years before, Bruce, had to make a life altering decision.

Should he follow his head or his heart?

He loved both Selina and Y/n dearly for very different reasons.

But there was no use pondering the decision further. Selina was a safe bet.

Selina, whilst fickle, was still a woman capable of handling the rough and tough life style that accompanied his alter-ego. Selina’s life parallels his own; their secret life, their deep rooted trauma, their years of personal growth together.

When considering these factors, it was indisputable, he had to follow his head, and in the end he got exactly what he asked for.

An unbridled romantic companion that was only ever present when it suited her.

Selina was never consistent in supporting Bruce. Only being present at the worst of times, and never being available to celebrate the best of times.

Selina was incapable of bonding with his sons. It’s not like she didn’t try, the boys were just utterly disinterested in bonding with a woman who seemed to sail in and out of Bruce’s life on a whim. Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian felt Selina was not going to be around long, so they always turned her down or avoided Selina when possible.

Selina was uncomfortable with the mundane. Drama followed her where ever she went. Her constant blow outs strains Bruce beyond measure.

As usual, Bruce retreats to his cold and lonely bed. It’s been weeks since he last heard from Selina. He stares at the ceiling and wonders what his life could’ve been like had he followed his heart.

You were always the first to hold Bruce and comfort him in his times of need. You were always pushing to celebrate ridiculous milestones and insisting it was important since it was an achievement.

You put in so much effort bonding with his sons. You’d spent days in Bludhaven, looking after Dick in hospital when no one else could. You drove to Jason’s favourite dive bar, drank beer with him every Friday. You attended all of Tim’s extracurricular events. You would drink tea with Damian and listen to him vent his frustrations with his teammates.

Better yet, you were always in bed waiting for him. Arms always spreading open, ready to embrace him after a difficult night out.

Bruce missed you dearly, but he knows he made the right decision. Selina was capable of protecting herself- you weren’t.

Bruce constantly reminds himself of that time Joker almost took your life as you helplessly dangled from the building. Your survival from that encounter was pure luck. If Bruce wasn’t your boyfriend, you would’ve been safe.

So, Bruce made the right decision following his head. Following his heart would’ve brought nothing but heartache.

The house seemed unusually quite. There was no noise, no movement. He hasn’t heard anything from anyone.

“Alfred, where are the boys?” The older gentlemen continues to assemble the cucumber sandwiches, pretending he didn’t hear a single word. “Alfred?” The older man sighs as he contemplates telling the truth, to honouring the lie fabricated by the boys. At last, Alfred opts for the ugly truth.

“The young masters are attending a wedding ceremony.” Alfred answers bluntly, unwilling to be the barer of bad news.

“A wedding ceremony? Who’s wedding is it?” Alfred places the plate in front of Bruce, continuing to avoid eye contact. “Alfred, answer the question.”

He sighs as he pours a glass of water. “John Constantines wedding.”

Confusion crosses Bruce as to why his sons are attending that man’s wedding. “I didn’t know he had a significant other, who is he marrying?”

Alfred looks off to the clock as Bruce waits impatiently for the long drawn out answer. The clock strikes twelve, which floods the house with a melody to notify half the day has passed. Finally, Alfred speaks. “As of 12’oclock John Constantine has married his beloved wife Y/n Constantine.”

All colour in Bruce’s face drains, his mouth goes dry and he’s not sure if his heart is beating. “Y/n… she’s married?” Alfred nods unsympathetically.

“The women you love has married someone that isn’t you.” Alfred’s words rubs salt in Bruce’s already wounded heart. “Incase you were wondering Master Bruce… Selina Kyle had introduced the two around the time you had broken up.” Bruce’s head turns to mush at the news.

It’s not like he intended to get back together with you or anything- so why is he so upset?

Of course you would move on eventually, he knew that. That’s just common sense. Why would you be single for the rest of your life?

Yet despite all common sense Bruce’s heart continues to squeeze painfully, his head thumping away as a growing migraine takes place.

The love of his life has gone on and married someone else.

God.

Is it too late to win her back?

What was he thinking ? Of course it is.

There’s no going back.

Bruce will just have to accept his decision.

[daydreamkissesxo]

Father Charlie x reader | Sinner pt 4; Is this how it ends?

Warnings; manipulation, coercive behaviour, mentions of pregnancy and active labour, angst, mentions of abortion (no smut this time😢)

A/N; I really struggled for this part and I’m not entirely happy with it but it’ll do😂 part 5 is cominggg

Your sudden disappearance was the talk of the church each Sunday, every family theorising what could have possibly happened.

Your mother was distraught, inconsolable as she had no explanation as to where you were or whether you were even alive.

Father Charlie often comforted her after mass, cruelly lifting her spirits by claiming that you would one day return, though he knew otherwise.

Your family's persistent searching often left him anxious, that they'd somehow trace your disappearance back to him.

He'd thought of several different ways to resolve the issue, all exposing your pregnancy one way or another with the knowledge that your parents would disown you for it.

He'd thought of carefully planting a pregnancy test in one of your coat pockets after conveniently visiting your family home to console your mother, hoping she'd find it as she rummaged for clues as to your whereabouts.

He'd even considered paying one of the local homeless men to falsely inform your mother that he'd seen you leaving town with a blossoming baby bump, but that seemed to be one of the riskier options, he knew he'd be setting himself up for blackmail.

You were completely oblivious to the state your family were in, confined to the four walls of Father Charlie's home as he claimed it would be impossible for you to leave it without being noticed now that half of the town knew you were missing.

His intentions were far from pure, he disguised his reasons for keeping you a prisoner in his home as concern for the abandonment you'd inevitably receive from your family if they discovered the truth.

He'd carefully manipulated you into believing that he had done nothing wrong, that he acted on the lust you inflicted upon him and that any consequences were only yours to suffer.

You were disconnected from the outside world as he'd even taken away your phone, claiming that you were easy to trace as long as you were in possession of it.

Each day that passed was another that he'd paralysed your mind, ridding you of your independence unconsciously so that you were solely reliant on him for even the most basic human care.

He had a strong desire to control every aspect of your life, carefully planting small seeds of doubt in your mind that you were incapable of making your own decisions and taking proper care of yourself.

He provided you with a home, the clothes that you wore, the food that you ate and the comfort most people long for, it made him feel so unbelievably powerful.

He'd carefully prepared every meal you'd eat, insisting that he knew best where nutritional value was concerned due to his previous work as a personal trainer, yet his intention was to ensure you never ate unless he provided it, much like a dependant child.

The only time he'd leave your side was to fulfil his duties at the church and even then he wondered if that were too long, he couldn't risk leaving your mind unoccupied.

Despite his extreme measures you'd never once thought of yourself as a prisoner, he appeared so attentive and caring that you believed it was just in his nature, not part of his carefully crafted plot to manipulate the woman he'd purposely impregnated so she could never exist without him.

You couldn't help but feel like a house pet, always perched on the sofa or beside him in bed with no real purpose other than incubating his unborn child.

Father Charlie had managed to convince you not to see anyone of the medical profession during your pregnancy, claiming that once you'd stepped foot over the threshold of a hospital that they'd inform your family immediately.

Being so fearful of their disappointment, you agreed that a doctor he had known previous to becoming a priest could regularly check you over.

Violent nausea woke you from your slumber each morning, you'd spend the majority of your day hunched over the toilet bowl and for that father Charlie was pleased, while you were in that state you were incapable of even attempting to leave which bought him more time to work his manipulative ways.

While he was sympathetic to your sickness, he strongly felt it was the perfect punishment for trying to end your pregnancy, though he never told you that.

He hadn't totally forgiven you for your actions but he wasn't a complete monster, he knelt beside you to hold your hair back when he could.

In an ideal world, the two of you would have been married and equally excited for the arrival of your child, but the conception date made it difficult for him to find a way to leave his position at the church without exposing his sexual relationship with you during his time there.

It was at dinner one night that he'd noticed how withdrawn you'd become, assuming it was due to the toll early pregnancy was having on your body but the sound of stifled sobs caused him to stiffen.

He'd immediately placed the dinner plates onto the table, rushing to your side to kneel beside the chair where you sat.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He asked softly, lifting one of his hands to gently cup your cheek and wipe away your tears, caressing your soft skin with his thumb.

"I..miss my family.." you whispered quietly, your gaze thankfully adverted as Father Charlie clenched his jaw in growing frustration for the reason of your sudden sadness.

"I know you do. But think about it..your family think you've run away. You can't just suddenly show up pregnant, with no husband in sight." He attempted to sound reasonable and sympathetic, as if his sole purpose of keeping you within the four walls of his home was for your own good and not his.

"You're not the reincarnation of Mary, somebody put that baby inside of you and they'll want to know who."

You flinched at his words, perhaps he didn't mean to be so crass but the thought of you exposing him as the father of your child made him anxious.

Hurt by his words, you attempted to turn your head away but his hand nudged at your cheek to force your head back towards him.

"This goes beyond you, sweetheart. What about me? How can I support you if I lose my position? We'll lose this house, I'll lose the support of the community."

He intended to scare you into thinking the two of you could never survive if he were to lose his priesthood, that the luxury that came with the role was the only acceptable choice for your new family.

He knew you'd feel guilty enough at the thought of him losing everything he'd ever worked for to not raise the issue again, but it didn't stop you from feeling disappointed.

He placed one of his palms against your barely noticeable bump, a prideful smile replacing the scowl he wore a moment before.

"This is what happens, sweet girl. You move on, and you start your own family..you leave those you love behind to make space in your heart for new." He said in a soft yet condescending tone, attempting to sever the ties between you and your family completely.

You lowered your gaze as you allowed his words to soak in, unknowingly ingesting the poison that would slowly rid you of your clarity.

His infectious smile caused you to smile back, and for the first time during your pregnancy, you felt hopeful for the future the two of you would share.

Your second trimester brought its own challenges, your breasts were notably larger and constantly sore, and you were almost always in discomfort as the skin of your abdomen stretched to accommodate your growing bundle of joy.

Most days were spent perched in the same spot on the living room couch, no longer able to read nor watch the television as the outside world was all that seemed to occupy your mind.

Each time father Charlie left for mass you'd spend your hour of isolated silence staring out of the window into the front garden, watching as spring finally swept away the darkness of winter.

Once naked tree branches were now beautifully decorated with blossoming flower buds, sparsely planted flowers blooming from the ground while nature began to emerge from its hibernation.

Butterflies were a rare sighting so you were always pleased when one did appear, you thought you'd struck gold as two suddenly appeared to drift past and settle on the window ledge.

You leant closer to the window in fascination, A beautiful white butterfly trapped beneath a black and red patterned one.

It was oddly symbolic, the darkness holding the pure and innocent captive, much like how Father Charlie held you.

The sudden sound of a closing door forced you to jump, your hand falling to your rounded belly to clutch it as you glanced over your shoulder, your gaze meeting Father Charlie's.

He stood frozen in the doorway as he took a moment to admire the sight before him, how beautiful you looked as you sit and wait for him to return, the natural light reflecting against your skin to create a radiant glow.

"There's my girl." He murmured as he walked over to take a seat beside you, excitedly placing a hand on either side of your pregnant belly.

"Not much longer and I can finally come home to two beautiful girls." He chuckled, lowering his head to press a soft peck to the top of your baby bump.

"We don't know if we're having a girl." You replied, quietly giggling as you found his assumption of the gender amusing seeing as he was so adamant.

"Oh she's definitely a girl." He argued, lifting his head to look up at you before leaning in to place a delicate kiss to your lips, silencing you from correcting him once more.

He'd pulled away before you even had chance to reciprocate, your lips left parted as your eyes met once more.

"How have you been feeling? I thought perhaps we could take a walk around the church grounds later, get some fresh air?" He offered, a reward for your compliance now that he was confident you'd never run.

Later, meaning after it had gotten dark as he certainly couldn't allow anyone to see you now you were very visibly pregnant.

He watched as your eyes lit up with excitement at such a small offering of freedom and it left him nervous, mentally questioning how you'd act if he ever accidentally left the door unlocked.

"Great. But first, I've got some ideas about the nursery I'd like to run by you." He added, his hand falling from your bump to his pocket to retrieve his phone.

He lifted it slightly as he swiped through his apps in search of the photo one, clicking on it to then scroll upwards in search of the screenshots he'd taken from various shopping sites for inspiration.

"I was thinking neutral? Seeing as you're not going to let me paint it pink." He teased, smiling as he held the phone up just enough for you to see the inspiration photos he had.

It was later that evening that he'd taken you to the church grounds as promised, aware that gentle exercise is essential for expectant mothers and would aid the correct positioning of the baby as your due date drew closer.

He kept a slow pace as he walked beside you, acknowledging that due to the pressure bearing down on your pelvis it was uncomfortable to walk any faster.

Despite the discomfort, the walk was more than pleasing as you'd finally got to feel the fresh spring breeze brush past your skin while taking in a view far more pleasant than the same four walls of his home.

The church held many memories for you, most fond while some were unpleasant, such as your scuffle with Father Charlie.

You'd often dreamed of marrying at such a beautiful place, though now the thought of marriage was no longer as your relationship with Father Charlie would be frowned upon by most.

He'd often wondered whether you missed the church, the beautiful hymns you knew every word of and the scriptures you'd followed so closely until his corruption of you.

"Do you miss being here?" He asked sincerely after noticing the longing in your eyes as you take in the view, for once not taking the opportunity to taunt you.

You nodded simply in response, reminiscent of the Sundays you'd spent sat amongst your family as you looked for guidance from the Lord, when your feelings for Father Charlie were nothing more than your best kept secret.

"I do. I wish I'd have had some self restraint, things may have been different.."

Father Charlie grew stiff at your confession, your words of regret made him feel both uncomfortable and somewhat sad.

"But I'm not regretful. What good is regret? Everyone's path in life is different, and if it's God's will..I will gladly accept the path chosen for me." You softly add, turning your attention towards him as you smile warmly.

Somehow he'd felt even more sad, God's will never played a part in your fate, it was his decisions that led you down the path you now walked.

The warmth of your smile filled him with nothing more than shame, more shame than he'd inflicted upon you for attempting to better your future by aborting the living evidence of your sexual relationship, he understood in that very moment why you'd considered it.

You gently took hold of his hand, intertwining your fingers with his as a way of showing that the two of you would walk your ill fated path together.

"God will forgive us for our sins, and I hope you will forgive me for the selfish decision I almost made.." You timidly said, his reaction to the abortion you almost endured still ingrained on your mind.

Father Charlie could only respond with a smile, truly stunned by your sudden remorse and compliance, it was deeply unnerving.

Father Charlie never truly recovered from that day, he'd become even more nervy and on edge, waiting for you to one day take your revenge instead of now appreciating the compliance he'd always sought from you.

It was several weeks until your supposed due date and you could barely tell the difference between every day pain and possible contractions.

The pain prevented you from sleeping at night, every time you'd settle another sharp pain in your lower abdomen would disturb you, leaving you exhausted and desperate for your pregnancy to be over with.

Father Charlie felt your accidental nudges throughout the night as you stirred, always waking from his own slumber to ask whether you were okay.

He was reluctant to leave for mass one morning but you insisted he should, convinced that the pain was nothing more than those practise contractions you'd read so much about, but you couldn't have been more wrong.

The pain became drastically worse and had you still been in possession of your phone, you'd have called the first contact you could to come and help.

The intense pain lasted for just a few seconds every couple of minutes, it was a pain you could only describe as a tightening squeeze across your lower abdomen.

Father Charlie had returned from mass to find you slumped against the wall in the hallway with your knees slightly bent up towards your chest, your hand desperately shaking as you clutched at your belly while your body writhed in pain.

His eyes widening in panic as dropped his briefcase in desperate hurry, rushing to your side faster than his mind could even comprehend before falling to his knees beside you.

Your skin was visibly clammy while your face was scrunched in clear discomfort, your purposeful drawn out breathes interrupted as loud pain filled sobs erupt from your lips when another contraction reached its peak.

Father Charlie was visibly panicked, untrained and certainly not educated enough to deliver a baby but there was hardly any time to wait for his doctor friend.

"Baby? Baby, tell me how far apart the contractions are?" He asked, attempting to sound confident while completely overcome with nerves, raising a hand to softly stroke your hair in an attempt to comfort you.

"I, I don't know!" You choke out, arching your back from against the wall as the pain rippled through your abdomen uncomfortably.

Unbeknownst to father Charlie, your mother had followed him home in hope of seeking the comfort he'd often provided her in regard to your disappearance.

Though he could hardly hear a thing over your agonised sobbing, a loud knock at the door followed by a familiar voice caused him to freeze in absolute panic.

"Father Charlie, are you there?" She called out, and the sound of your mother's comforting voice was everything you'd wished to hear as your body fought to bring new life into the world.

Father Charlie glanced over his shoulder at the door, his breath audibly trembling as he believed the two of you would inevitably be caught.

He felt your body tense beside him, confident that a contraction was impending, and as you began to let out a violent sob his hand came to harshly cover your mouth to muffle it.

It felt sickeningly cruel to touch you this way knowing the intense pain that rushed throughout your body, but he just needed to let your mother leave before attending to your greatly immense suffering and the delivery of his beautiful baby.

Taglist; @targaryenswhxre @dckweed @psychocitylights @yoongling 💖💖