#actually not vague blatantly about the father i have to live with if i want my GI bill benefits to cover my schooling

[boypussyofficial]

Man. Alcoholics love drinking more to deal with making themselves mad for no reason

Having an alcoholic parent is like a Sisyphian punishment, a curse bestowed upon you for the crime of holding out any semblance of hope for someone who is destined to kill themselves

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Safe Distance

John Winchester & daughter!reader, Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you visit Sam at Stanford, and he makes promises that he doesn’t keep

You were crazy. Actually, you were beyond crazy. They needed a new, more dramatic version of the word crazy to describe you.

Not to mention, your dad was going to kill you.

Taking John’s money for a nonessential was enough to at least tick him off a bit. Not asking first was just blatantly disobeying him. Using it to sneak out in the middle of the night and take a bus out of town was basically asking for major punishment.

But going to see Sam? Oh, that was the nail in your coffin.

Dad hadn’t even talked about Sam since the day he left. Well, since the day after he left. The night Sam ditched the family for college, John pretended to be stoic for a couple of hours while he drank, but after half a dozen beers and Dean going to bed…

It was the only time you’d ever seen your father cry.

But since then, nothing; not a word about Sam, not a phone call, not even vague mentions. You got the message clearly—Sam didn’t exist anymore. You knew deep down that dad didn’t mean what he said about never letting Sam come back. You knew that if Sam ever decided to walk through those doors again, dad would be (secretly) overjoyed, and Sam would be allowed to stay. But now, while he was gone, while he was at college, the rule was clear; no talking to Sam. That didn’t mean you’d ever followed it—you’d tried to call Sam whenever you could sneak Dean’s phone (dad had taken yours the first time he caught you trying to call Sam); Sam had just never picked up.

You’d tried to live with just not talking to Sam, you really had, but you just couldn’t do it anymore. You had to see him, you had to convince him that his family still loved him, still wanted him back.

So here you were, on a bus in the middle of the night, your sleeping father and brother none the wiser to your crazy antics.

You were going to see Sam.

…

John was beside himself. He was forcing himself to take deep breath after deep breath so that he didn’t snap at Dean—he didn’t blame Dean, after all; he blamed himself. His eleven year old was missing from the motel room, and he didn’t even know where to begin looking.

“Dad!”

John was about to tell his son not to distract him, but he saw the paper Dean was waving—a note?

“Give me that.” John grabbed the paper from Dean and scanned down it quickly. “I’m safe. I’ll be back soon.” John scoffed. “Is she insane? This says nothing! She knows better than this! She could be anywhere, and we can’t protect her!”

“At least we know she left willingly,” Dean offered. “Nothing took her.”

“Yeah.” John ran a hand over his face. “Yet.”

…

You arrived at Stanford without incident, but your anxiety was mounting with every second. Was this a horrible idea? What if you couldn’t even find Sam? What if Dean and Dad figured out where you were, and they were already waiting on campus in the Impala? A car ride would have been much shorter than the bus you took—which was why you left your note vague in the first place.

You shook off your worries as you stepped onto campus. You were here to see Sam, and you weren’t going to let anything stop you.

You had no idea how to find him, so you did the only thing you could think of—

“Excuse me, have you seen this guy?” You were walking around campus as classes got out, interrupting the endless stream of people as you showed a picture you kept of Sam to as many people as you could get to look your way. You had no way of knowing if Sam was using his real name or an alias, so a visual representation was your best bet. Besides, Sam was always the friendly one—chances were, someone around here knew him. However, it wasn’t going well so far.

“Are you lost, honey?” asked a concerned-looking college student.

“I think that guy is in my metal-working class,” some guy offered. You doubted it—and besides, he didn’t offer any information about where Sam might be now.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be here,” said another student—why was everyone so useless?

“Hey, I know that guy.” You turned your head when someone tapped your shoulder and pointed at your picture. “You’re looking for Sam?”

You nodded. “He’s my brother—I’m trying to surprise him.”

“He’s probably back at his apartment. It’s only about a block away, c’mon I’ll show you—I just got out of classes for the day.”

“I can find it if you tell me the address,” you offered shyly.

“And let Sam Winchester’s kid sister wander the streets? Heck no, your big brother would kill me.” The man chuckled, but you couldn’t tell if he was joking. “Follow me, kid.”

The kind stranger led you right up to Sam’s door before turning right back around and leaving. You found yourself standing alone on Sam’s porch, your hand twitching as if you couldn’t get up the strength to knock.

What if he didn’t want to see you? You’d always had a little voice in the back of your mind telling you it was your fault Sam left; normally the voice was tiny, because you knew that Sam left because he hated hunting, not you. But right now, standing in front of his doorway after a whole year, the voice was a whole lot louder.

Dad and Dean are gonna murder you for doing this, another voice said. You’d better make it worth it.

You were lifting your hand to knock when it opened.

“Whoa—Y/N?” Sam was halfway out the door when he froze in his tracks, inches from bumping into you.

“He-hey Sammy.” You cursed the stutter in your voice as you rocked back and forth on your heels. “Surprise.”

“What are you doing here?” Sam was looking around behind you. “You didn’t—I mean—are Dad and Dean—“

“I’m alone,” you assured him. “I just…I wanted to see you.”

“Do they know you’re here?”

“If they knew, I wouldn’t be here.” You took in your big brother—his hair longer, his clothes new—and noticed that he had a jacket half on. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Nowhere important.” Sam waved it off. “Why don’t you come on in?” Sam stepped back inside, and you followed him. “Dad’s gonna kill you.”

“Probably,” you mumbled, still rocking awkwardly. Sam’s arms suddenly around you both surprised you and put you at ease. You wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging tightly to your big brother. You hadn’t really been sure if he’d want to see you, or if things would be awkward, but Sam was just glad you were here.

“I missed you,” Sam admitted.

“I missed you too. It’s so weird in the motels alone.”

Sam pulled away suddenly. “They leave you alone?”

“When they’re on hunts.” You shrugged. “They don’t have another choice.” At Sam’s guilty silence, you kept going. “I didn’t mean—I’m not trying to make you feel bad, Sam. I just wanted to come see you.”

Sam’s attempted reply was cut short by the ringing of his cell phone. “It’s Dean,” he said when he looked at the number.

“Don’t answer!” You pleaded, but he’d already put the phone to his ear.

“Hey Dean.” Sam’s voice was strained as he spoke. His eyes met yours as he went silent, listening to Dean on the other end.

“Don’t tell him I’m here,” you whispered. “Sam please don’t tell him.”

“Yeah Dean.” Sam averted his gaze from your eyes. “Yeah she’s here. Ok. I’ll see you then.” He hung up.

“Why did you do that?” You demanded.

“Honey, you’ve gotta go back home,” Sam reasoned. “You’re not supposed to be here. And even though me, Dad, and Dean have had our fights, I’m not gonna let them freak out thinking some monster got you.”

“I know,” you mumbled, your lip quivering. “I just…I wanted to get away with it for a little longer.”

“Hey…” Sam gave you a quick hug before pulling away again. “Listen, Dean said they won’t be here for a few hours. Let me show you some of my favorite spots around here, ok?”

You gave Sam a watery smile.

“Sounds great.”

…

Sam took you to a local ice cream shop and walked you past everywhere he and his friends hung out. He introduced you to a pretty girl named Jess—Sam called her his “friend”, but he blushed while he talked to her.

After a few hours out with him, Sam took you back to his apartment to wait for Dean and John. You were sitting on Sam’s couch, catching each other up on the past year.

“You’re happy,” you said suddenly. It wasn’t a question.

“I am.” Sam was smiling. “And I miss you guys—I do—but I had to do this. I had to live my own life.”

“I-I know.” You stared down at your fidgeting hands. “I always understood it, I just…that didn’t stop it from hurting.”

“Hey, when you grow up, you can do the same thing. You can go to college, find your own life.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think I’m brave enough for that.”

“Are you kidding?” Sam laughed. “You left Dad and Dean to come find me, the pariah. And you’re just eleven! You’re brave enough to do whatever you want.”

“It’s not about leaving,” you admitted. “It’s about staying away. I can’t…I couldn’t be on my own like you can. I’d miss everyone too much.”

“Hey.” Sam put a hand on your shoulder, and you lifted your gaze to his eyes. “When you’re old enough, come find me. Dad and Dean might not want to talk to you if you go to college, but I’ll be here for you, I promise.”

“You…you will?”

“Hey, you’re still my little sister. I—“

Sam stopped when he heard the distinct sound of Baby’s engine just outside the door.

“They’re here.” You swallowed hard.

Sam walked you to his door, letting you hold onto his hand like you used to do when you were little.

Dean was already standing on Sam’s porch when Sam opened the door.

“Hey,” Dean greeted his brother, rubbing the back of his neck. He turned to you quickly. “You’re dead, by the way. Get in the Impala.”

Dean gave a quick nod to Sam, turning to get back in the car with you trailing just behind him, your feet dragging.

At the last second, you turned and dashed back towards Sam.

“Hey!” Dean called out, and at this point John Winchester started to emerge from the driver’s seat of the Impala. He was just opening his mouth to threaten you to get into the car when he stopped.

You were throwing your arms around your big brother for a last goodbye…or at least that’s what your father and Dean thought.

“Please come back,” you whimpered. “I know I said I understand, but I can’t do it anymore. I don’t wanna be alone anymore, please come back, please. I don’t want to leave you again.”

“Honey…” Sam closed his eyes, holding you in a vice grip one last time before pulling away. “Honey you have to go. And I have to stay. Hey, hey—“ he soothed when you started to cry. “I’ll call you. I promise.”

“You will?” You sniffled.

“Of course. Now get going, you don’t wanna keep Dad waiting.”

You wrapped your arms around Sam’s neck. “I love you.”

Sam kissed your forehead. “I love you too, kiddo. Now get out of here.”

You pulled away, turning finally to get in the car. Sam’s eyes lingered on his father first—who gave him a curt nod—then on his brother—whose hand lifted in an almost-wave before he dropped back into the Impala.

Sam stepped back into his apartment, but he couldn’t resist letting his eyes drift to the scene as he closed to door; John wrapped you in his arms the moment you got close enough, but after a brief moment of relief Sam could hear John start to scold you as the doors closed to both Baby and Sam’s apartment.

…

Sam tossed his bag into the back of the Impala, almost surprised when he saw you sitting in the back.

“Hey honey,” he greeted with a strained smile. You just stared at him.

“You brought her,” Sam directed quietly at Dean as Dean approached him.

“I wasn’t gonna drive halfway across the country without her,” Dean answered. “Especially not with dad missing.”

It had been three years since Sam had seen his family, and you had grown a lot.

“We should get going,” Dean said, and Sam hesitantly climbed into the Impala.

“You should get some sleep,” Dean directed at you. “I know you were faking it on the way here.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered.”

“Uh huh,” Dean scoffed. “Sure.”

Dean clicked on his radio, and Sam wasn’t surprised to hear the usual Metallica. He was just thinking to himself that the drum solos were even longer than usual when Dean spoke again.

“Out like a light.”

“What?” Sam asked. Dean gestured in the backseat, and Sam saw you fast asleep, your mouth hanging open and Dean’s jacket clutched in your arms.

“Those drum solos put her out every time,” Dean chuckled. Sam felt a pang somewhere deep in his gut—he never would’ve known how to get you to sleep.

There was a lot he didn’t know about you.

…

Sam was returning from the gas station with some snacks when he saw you talking animatedly with Dean—you had a big grin on your face and you were waving a book around. The moment Sam got close, the grin slowly faded and you changed the subject abruptly.

“Are we ready?” You asked quietly.

“Uh…yeah,” Dean said, also sensing the change. “Let’s get going.”

“What are you reading?” Sam asked as the Impala started up, hoping to coax you out of your shell. You just held up the book, letting it cover your face so Sam could see the title. “Ok,” Sam sighed, turning his attention back to the stretch of road.

…

“Are you ok?” You jumped up from the desk in the cheap motel when your big brothers stumbled into the room after a little run in with the woman in white.

“Fine, I’m fine,” Dean promised, even though Sam had watched him take a serious beating.

“No you’re not,” you said immediately, going for the first aid kit. “Sit,” you commanded.

Sam was surprised—he’d never seen you this assertive in the eleven years he’d grown up with you. Three years had done a lot to you.

Sam watched from the corner of the room while you and Dean worked silently in an odd rhythm, like you’d done this a thousand times before.

Dean stripped off his flannel, leaving him in just a gray T-shirt and exposing his cuts to your attentive care. You were just starting to disinfect one of his cuts when Sam reached around you to grab the first aid kit for himself.

“Nuh-uh.” Sam flinched when you slapped his hand away and pointed at the spot on the bed next to Dean. “Wait in line.”

Sam stared at you in surprise for a minute, but you were focused on wrapping Dean’s arm, so Sam just sat down.

“Ok go take a shower,” you told Dean when you were done. “You smell like dead people.”

Dean scoffed, but he didn’t argue.

“It’s just this,” Sam told you as he lifted his pant leg to reveal a long—but not too deep—cut across his shin. He’d gotten it when he smashed baby through a house; he was surprised Dean didn’t kill him for that.

“There’s splinters in it,” you said almost to yourself while you grabbed a pair of tweezers.

Silence reigned for several minutes while you painstakingly removed the tiny splinters from Sam’s cut.

“You didn’t call,” you said finally.

Sam had expected this moment to come. “I…I know.”

“Did…” you swallowed hard, and Sam noticed your hand shaking slightly. “Did I do something?”

“What?” Sam grabbed your hand to get your attention. “No, no you didn’t do anything.”

Your lip was quivering. “Then why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t…” Sam sighed. “I didn’t mean to lie. I did want to call you, I just—well, first I was afraid that Dean or Dad would answer, since I only have their numbers. Then I…I thought about all the things that could have happened to you on the way to visit me that time. How many monsters could’ve gotten you because you left Dad and Dean for me. I didn’t want to encourage that…so I thought it was best if I stayed away.”

“I thought I did something wrong.” You pulled your hand away from Sam’s, forcing yourself to continue fixing his leg. “I-I thought maybe you didn’t want me anymore.”

The past tense of your words didn’t fool Sam—you still felt that way, he could tell.

“No,” he assured you. “That’s not it, that could never be it. I wish I could be with you more, it’s just…you’re not old enough to choose a life, and lingering in the middle of both is the most dangerous place to be. I know a lot has happened, but I’m still your big brother, and I had to take care of you. I thought…I thought that meant staying away.”

“Ok,” you sniffled.

“But I meant what I said,” Sam continued. “If you want out at 18, come find me. Really.”

“Ok,” you said again. “Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m…glad you’re here now.”

Sam grinned—albeit a little halfheartedly, knowing that he was returning to Stanford in the morning.

“Yeah, me too kiddo.”

“So…” a wry smile found its way onto your face. “How’s that friend of yours? Jess, right? Dean said she was in your apartment.”

“Blabbermouth,” Sam muttered under his breath.

“Well, I think this leg of yours needs stitches, so you’ve got plenty of time to tell me about this girlfriend of yours.”

Sam chuckled. Maybe you hadn’t changed all that much.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz

[waeirfaahl]

Don't trust Zira

Although I strictly against any sequels, prequels, spinoffs, remakes of the original The Lion King 1994, I disagree with fans, who is negative toward "Mufasa: The Lion King" for ignoring TLK-2:SP and other series and for "changing canon". The 2019 movie and its prequel are separate universe, so they can do what they want. The problem happens, when bad sequels are connected to the original TLK 1994. Like, many people hated TLG for contradiction to either books or TLK-2:SP, but... TLK-2:SP already created the large contradiction to the original film and created the plot and logical hole that breaks the story. Now I'll discuss about the aspect that bothered me pretty long time. So I summarize all my thoughts in this post.

The sequel of the original TLK had several different scripts, which always were changed many times during production. Simba's pride literally was the abomination of the production hell. So here we have the main antagonist Zira, whose presense in the film gave birth to thousands of fanfics and headcanons and theories. Almost all fans believed that she loved Scar and wanted revenge for his death, and that she was Scar's beloved or friend so he chose one of her cubs as heir or even fathered them all. But what if I say, that it's all lie? What if Zira has no relation or connection to Scar? What if she just made up this story with Scar's heir for own goals? The workprint of the sequel gave me some details, which perfectly demonstrate this version as the true one. And there's no need to ask the authors themselves for answers. If we look at the early scripts, neither Zira nor her cubs and followers ever existed. Yes, in early scripts Kovu was the only Scar's cub, whose unnamed mother went from the Pridelands and later either died or abandoned Kovu, so he was in friends with Brutus the elephant and various other animals. In later scripts Kovu still was Scar's cub, but he lived with the power-hungry maternal aunt Bianca, who allied with Shenzi and her clan. In later scripts finally we see Zira, who was vaguely described as Scar's queen, and she already had these sudden followers (who actually were the suffering pride of the villain suitor prince in one of the early scrips). However, Nuka and Vitani weren't Scar's cubs, and they weren't Zira's cubs as well, they were orphans. Plus, Zira actually stole Kovu from his real father, king Regandi, and brainwashed him into her weapon and "Scar's heir". I have no idea, why the information about true origins of Kovu, Nuka and Vitani was scrapped, if in the final movie Zira is described by both the authors and the workprint as Scar's most loyal follower, i.e. fanatic.

But... what if Zira and her pride are NOT Scar's followers, but just pretended? I have many arguments that debunk the entire idea of Zira's existing in the original film or as a follower etc. First of all, well, for Scar it is a huge contradiction. He is egocentric tyrant, who cares only about himself and wants to rule as a sole king, where others are slaves or servants. No queens, no cubs. Only Scar. The deleted scene from the original film, where Scar harrassed Nala, is not a strong argument — he just wanted to find a way to become loved by others in kingdom, and when Nala and lionesses rejected him, he blatantly said to them "Fine. I don't need your love and respect, only your obedience" and then called the hyenas for Nala's banishing. Plus, if Scar wanted a queen, he'd do this way earlier, i.e. not 2-3 years later, when Simba and Nala are already adult — this aspect already debunks the idea of Nuka or Vitani being Scar's kittens, 'cause if Nuka is allegedly Scar's son, Scar's attempt to seduce Nala makes no sense, 'cause he already had a pregnant mate and 6-month-old heir or whatever in this case.

And both Nuka and Vitani never referred to Scar as Father, Zira never referred to Nuka and Vitani as to Scar's cubs ("Scar, watch over MY poor Nuka..." — not OUR), Nuka never used this as an argument to be king as well as Vitani. Plus, if they were Scar's cubs, Zira would love them way more than Kovu, fathered by random rogue, 'cause they'd be the heirs of her "adored Scar". But no, Zira hates and ignores and abuses Nuka and shows no love toward Vitani, but "loves" and brainwashes "the chosen one" Kovu. If they were Scar's cubs, they'd have no need in trying to get attention of their fanatical mother, she'd already adore them from the beginning, and she'd make exactly them to be king and queen, not Kovu. Second, all lionesses in the original film hated Scar and fought on Simba's side.

Third, as we know, in the original film Scar cruelly mistreated all, he devastated the kingdom and acted like a ruthless tyrant, everyone starved and suffered during his reign. Zira and her lionesses have nothing to admire Scar for. Think about it.

Fourth, if Zira and her pride allegedly were Scar's followers and existed in the original movie — why Zira and her followers were defeated and banished? In the original film in Mufasa's pride (later conquered by Scar and then fought on Simba's side against Scar and the hyena clan) there were 12 lionesses, but after Simba returned, there were 6-7 lionesses (including Nala and Sarabi), i.e. other 5-6 either ran away or died, while in Zira's pride (without her three cubs) we see 9-11 lionesses. How could they be defeated and banished, if Simba, Nala, Sarabi and their lionesses were exhausted by hunt and then by the battle against Scar and 100+ hyenas?! It makes no sense.

Then let's go to Zira. The entire Zira's claims are these:

1. Scar chose Kovu as his heir (i.e. Scar knew Kovu, Kovu knew Scar):

"He was hand-chosen by Scar to follow his pawprints and become king!" – Zira to Simba.

2. Kovu was born in Pridelands:

"Kovu was the last born before you banished us to Outlands!" – Zira to Simba.

In the deleted scene Zira also says this:

"That is our home! That is where we belong! And soon, my beloved Scar, we shall reclaim your kingdom!" – Zira to her cubs.

So, what's wrong with these claims? Well, everything. 

First of all, many people ignore one tiny detail in Zira's claim – that Scar chose Kovu himself "to follow his pawprints and become king". How and when could he do this?! "To follow his pawprints" – it means "To kill the previous king and conquer the kingdom and power by force". Scar could not choose anyone for this mission before the battle on the Pride Rock, because he did not suspect the existence of Simba (that Simba is alive). Scar had no idea that he will be overthrown, and he only feasted with the hyenas. During the battle he would not have had time to do this – he tried to hide and escape during battle and then was chased by Simba and later fought with him. Plus, he ruled alone and wasn't interested in getting a queen and making cubs. He was lonely character, who needs no one, while the hyenas were just his army.

In the workprint of the sequel Zira says this:

"Don't be a fool, Nuka! Kovu is the chosen one! We must fulfill Scar's dying wish and train Kovu to become king!" – Zira to Nuka.

What kind of dying wish, if Scar tried to run away, fought with Simba and then was eaten by the hyenas and burned in the fire?! He couldn't survive even for few seconds at all! 

Second, Kovu couldn't be born in Pridelands. He has no memories about Scar. All he says is either "Scar was not my father" or "I heard about Scar this, but what you tell now, I never heard" type of lines. 

Also in the deleted scene Zira proudly says this:

"Remember, Scar took you in and accepted you as his own son. Yes, he wasn't your father, but he chose you to become the next king." – Zira to Kovu.

You can notice that she is the only character, who insists this, while Kovu is pretty unsure and uncertain in this scene. We see how Zira brainwashes him (under false attempt to cheer him up), so her claims about accepting Kovu as son by Scar can't be the truth at all. 

So, when Kovu was born? In the workprint we find out that Kovu was born before Kiara, and he already is pretty grown up cub during Kiara's presentation. However, Rafiki discovers Kovu's existence exactly after Kiara's birth and presentation, he refers to Kovu as "What is this? Another cub? Where he can be? In the Outlands... where Simba banished Scar's followers...". I.e. Rafiki didn't know about Kovu until the day of Kiara's birth and presentation.

Plus, as the sequel demonstrates, Simba and the pride never knew that "Scar had a heir", they didn't know about Kovu, since Simba refers to Kovu just as "the cub". Plus, Zira only now introduces Kovu to Simba:

"Haven't you met my son, Kovu? He was hand-chosen by Scar to follow his pawprints and become king!" – Zira to Simba.

So, why Zira mentions this only now, but not during/before banishing? And how Simba and others didn't see any cubs (or even newborn cubs) in Zira's pride and literally were okay with their banishing? I doubt that Simba is so cruel to banish innocent little cubs to die from hunger and thirst. 

I'm genuinely sure that Kovu (and even Nuka and Vitani) was born after Scar's death and after Zira's banishing. Zira just made up this story for gaining power. She didn't love Scar, he was just a manifestation of her desire to rule the Pridelands. Don't believe me? In the sequel Zira says this:

 "I now see the path to our glorious return to power!" – Zira to Kovu and her pride during My Lullaby song.

In the workprint Zira also says this: 

"[Scar is dead] because of Simba! If not for him, Scar would still be the king!" – Zira to Vitani.

Then she dreamily adds this to herself:

– "And I, Zira, his devoted queen!". That's it. Zira is angry toward Simba not 'cause of banishing or Scar's death, but 'cause Simba returned and deprived her of the opportunity to legitimately seize power, i.e. the possible chance to become queen. She wants power, Scar for her is just the manifestation of her desire, nothing more. I mean, she herself never claimed her right as a queen, she acts like a power-hungry conquer, she blames Simba, not the hyenas who ate Scar, and she is absolutely okay with fact that Scar killed his brother and tried to kill his nephew, since she mentions about Scar's inner darkness and is proud of this. She's a cunning psychopath, who admires another cunning psychopath.

Even in TLG her line "I and Scar were very close" is a blatant lie, 'cause Scar was resurrected as a volcano spirit and he NEVER mentioned Zira or "the hand-chosen heir"and NEVER visited them.

I was pretty adult, when I discovered the existence of Simba's Pride, so since the 1st watching I saw the cruel and power-hungry lioness, who pretends to be a devoted follower of the previous king, lies and manipulates, using her cubs and her pride as a weapon for conquering the kingdom. Seriously, even in My Lullaby song Zira sings NOT about her love for Scar and desire to avenge him and fulfill his wish or whatever, she sings exactly about her desire to use Kovu as a weapon for conquering the kingdom and to kill Simba and his family, before this song she says exactly about "glorious path to returning to power". Scar was only a manifestation of her desire for power. That's it. Nothing more.

I assume, Zira could be a "black widow" type of the character, i.e. she could ingratiate herself with the trust to kings, convincing them to make her a follower, an advisor or a queen, later kill these kings and get the power and rule, until a kingdom becomes devastated and destroyed, so she leaves this place and repeats this. Hence she could have cubs (with these kings or random rogues) and use them as a weapon and army well before Nuka, Kovu and Vitani, i.e. she didn't care about them, if they die. She was a wandering nobody from other lands and wanted to rise to power, prepared for this in Pridelands, but Simba returned and ruined her plans, she tried to claim her rights as a "loyal follower" with young Nuka and the group of convinced lone lionesses from other lands, but was banished and waited for battle and returning to power, using Kovu and Vitani. And, well, I would more quckly assume that Simba simply forbade them to be in Pridelands, so they simply can go away and find the new inviting lands, but Zira wanted exactly these lands. So her cubs and followers suffered.

[crimeronan]

Hunter trying to track down his family history on the down-low? Possibly to prepare himself for the most worst-case scenario his brain keeps telling him where Luz makes a life where he isn’t necessary to be in anymore?? Which is a literal mirror what Luz keeps feeling when Hunter is getting closer to new people like Willow, Amity, and Gus???

Anyways, the idea of Hunter doing all this research and finding fuck all and eventually having to make certain leaps in attempt of finding any leads and just… A return of teens asking Darius vague and leading questions about his mentor for their own research and Darius being left internally freaking the fuck out because of drawing the wrong conclusions and it being tied up with the majority of his own bullshit and hangups.

(In reference to the ask about Luz asking Darius questions about the previous gg when she was trying to find out as much as she could about the grimwalkers before Hunter but Darius freaking out because he thought she was on to him being a rebel. Don’t know what wrong conclusions he would come up with Hunter’s questioning while Hunter’s grasping at straws of where he might have come from but the idea of Darius thinking he has an idea of what these teens want from him and being extremely wrong about it is so funny to me. I also don’t know if the fact that Darius knows about how Luz killed Belos means that he knows about the grimwalker situation yet or not??)

MMMMMMMMM

i was THINKING that if hunter was having trouble tracing his own lineage, he'd probably go to darius first. he knows darius was mentored by the prior golden guard and hunter wants to know more about him, because the timeline doesn't match up to him being hunter's father, but apparently he was Also related to belos...? maybe also half-human, somehow, or maybe a key to figuring out what belos lied about.

as for the conclusions darius would draw, i actually think darius would know Exactly what hunter was asking, and that that would kind of be. worse. for him.

i don't know whether darius knows the word "grimwalker" but he's definitely put two-and-two together that the golden guards are something other than witches. and that belos killed all of them. and that luz knows it.

there's the inner luz having referenced the "others" in her mindscape, and darius Knowing belos must have killed his mentor, and the fact that darius has now seen what went down right before luz killed belos. which means he would have seen:

“He has always been sick!” Belos roars. The fury is a driving knife, an explosion, a shrapnel blast. Luz flinches back, hard, and slams into her chair, too startled to stand her ground. But the Emperor isn’t finished. He sweeps everything off the table with an earthshattering crash, objects scattering haphazardly across the floor, the vibration rattling through Luz’s shoes. Even that’s not as frightening as his voice, though. “Do you think that it matters whether the body falls apart?” he snarls. “Do you think that I care whether he could malinger for a witch’s normal Godforsaken lifespan? Do you think that I care whether any of them could? Never for a moment should I have let him live past infancy, and if you weren’t such a softhearted coward, you’d understand the same!”

like. darius knows.

and obviously he's in a position where he can't explain how he came by this information, but even if he COULD, he still wouldn't want to tell hunter. he and luz are both firmly in the same camp as far as "protecting hunter from information that could fuck him up forever" goes. no matter how much darius pretends that he doesn't care or he's not invested

so it would be more like. hunter can Tell that darius is hiding something. bc darius is being cagey about more stuff than usual and blatantly trying to distract hunter and getting snappier than he usually does.

and it's really weird. bc darius has never been less-than-trustworthy before.

so. what gives.

[zigdirty]

Not letting anyone get away with amplifying some of the bullshit from David French’s blurb. He’s correct that the party is in ruins and there’s no hope for recovery if Orange Dipshit wins again, but the bit about the “party” being a force for good is exceedingly misleading.

The labels of Democrat and Republican are just words, and they’ve swapped in the past. Specifically, “the party of Lincoln” was actually progressive at the time. The labels swapped since then, and what was progressive then now means conservative today.

Conservatives have rarely done good for “everyone” or the country as a whole. Regardless of the arbitrary labels of the parties, the US was a progressive idea and will continue to grow and improve as progress is sought and encouraged.

I get that there are many people who claim to be conservative and want to explain away the current Conservative Party, but it doesn’t change history and doesn’t excuse how conservatives have allowed their beliefs to be so easily changed to be as horrendous as they are now.

It’s also extremely critical to acknowledge that the two-party system that was implicitly lauded in a comment above is incredibly dangerous and toxic to a functional democracy and SHOULD NOT be the expected system in the US.

Once again, denying history is convenient, but ultimately shows the deep naïveté and corruption in conservative circles, especially as conservatives are often the group referencing Founding Fathers and the vision of the new democracy and all that.

For a group that wants to live in the past, it’s incredible that our first president’s Farewell Address is somehow overlooked: he explicitly stated that a two-party system in our democracy would be the end of the American experiment. This isn’t vague or unclear, it was blatantly spoken.

Two parties creates division; incredibly low standards for any party created the mess we have now.

😲😲😲😲😲

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Where There’s a Whill, There’s a Windu

Context: original post, chrono

(Summary of the AU: Disaster lineage got tossed back in time. Anakin stayed 21-ish, but Obi-Wan and Ahsoka got deaged, took new names for time-travel reasons (Ylliben and Sokanth, or Ben and Soka) and have been officially adopted by Anakin.)

----------------------

“You’re attached.”

“You’re just now noticing?”

Master Windu eyes him for a few long moments, and then joins him on the ground. Anakin can’t help but smirk. There’s something gratifying about having respect from the man, in this life.

“The other members of the council are concerned.”

“And you aren’t?”

“I am, but for other reasons,” Windu says.

Anakin doesn’t meet his eyes, doesn’t even respond for a long minute. He just looks out over the Room of a Thousand Fountains, spread out below them like hundreds of jungles pieced together in a jigsaw of flora. It’s been his favorite room in the Temple since he was a child, and it’s always overwhelming.

“Most of them have accepted that you adopted them because of Mandalorian customs, and that you stayed where you were due to the will of the Force,” Windu continues. “But they are… uncomfortable with how blatantly your attachments show.”

“Mandalorians are loud and refuse shame. It rubbed off.”

“You said you would kill for these children.”

“I’m their father. That’s kind of expected.”

Windu’s expression is tired. A little tired of stress, but mostly tired of Anakin’s shit. “You know what I’m trying to get at.”

“Do I?”

“Skywalker.”

“No, I’m serious. I need you to spell this out. I’ve had a million slightly-contradicting lectures on this topic, and I’ve been told pretty clearly that I misinterpreted a solid half of them. If you want a constructive conversation, you can’t be vague. I’m thirty-three years old and a father of two, Master Windu, so yes, I’m attached. What you mean by that word is going to change where this conversation goes.”

It’s gratifying to see the Master actually think it over.

“Ylliben’s tattoos have been causing the most recent stir,” Windu finally says. “They nearly all relate to family, whether new or old, and the symbolism is concerning to those who are already upset about the Mandalorian upbringing. They worry that he’ll remain too tied to people he grew up with, and unable to maintain neutrality in future diplomatic ventures, or at risk of a fall if one of the people he’s seen fit to memorialize is injured or killed. The assume a similar state of mind may be applicable to your daughter and yourself, especially given the off-color jokes about how possessive your children are about each other.”

“They’re worried about emotional immaturity,” Anakin summarizes. He offers a wan, unimpressed grin. “They do realize he’s fourteen, right? Nobody’s emotionally stable at fourteen. The hormones are out of whack.”

“I’m aware,” Windu grinds out. “And I’m aware that your histories, of war and all such things, make your ties much stronger, but you can see why the Council worries, especially those who are wary of the memories your children carry but won’t explain. I’m the only one you’ve told, Skywalker.”

“Plo and Depa know.”

“Plo and Depa aren’t on the council.”

“Yet.”

“Skywalker.”

He relents. “It’s not about Mandalore, Master Windu. It’s about Tatooine.”

Windu lets that sit for a few moments, and then sighs. “I don’t know enough about Tatooine to parse that.”

“Shmi and I are former slaves,” Anakin says, as bluntly as he can. “I was freed at nine, she at eleven, and for all that we are free, we’re not freeborn. We were born slaves, and raised slaves, and we were freed too late to forget that life. The way we think is always going to be affected by the way we grew up. That applies to all sentients, more or less, but it’s… the slave mentality is completely at odds with Jedi teachings, because Jedi teachings can only be taught in a safe environment.”

Windu nods slowly, and says, “That does make sense, but it’s… forgive me, but that’s why we don’t normally take children older than four.”

“From the perspective of teaching cultural values, that makes sense,” Anakin allows. “Teaching a Jedi child that’s cared for with communal resources that they do not need material things to be happy is fine; trying to convince a slave child of the same, someone who grew up being told they do not deserve material things, and that their owner can take anything at any time, including family? I lived that life, trying to adjust to ascetic Jedi values that coincided poorly with slave rules. I know exactly how poorly that transition can go when the person caring for the child doesn’t know how to handle the points of conflict.”

“Do you regret joining the Jedi?” Windu asks.

Anakin shakes his head. “My Jedi master, bless him, cared, and tried very hard, but he wasn’t ready to handle a kid like me and in hindsight, I know that. He needed grief counseling, and I needed therapy, and neither of us was getting it. I don’t… I don’t believe anyone in the Temple would have known how to handle a kid like me.”

“But you don’t regret it.”

“I was meant to be a Jedi,” Anakin says, as firmly as he can without getting unnecessarily bitchy about it. “My struggles with the Code aside, I was meant to be here. But the Temple doesn’t have any resources for children who come older, and I think… I think you do need that.”

“You just outlined why a child can’t follow the Code if they come from a different enough background,” Windu says.

Anakin shakes his head. “No, that’s not—I think a kid like me can learn to be a Jedi, if a little unconventional, if they’re taught correctly. The desperation to cling to anyone and anything you have can be unlearned. It takes time and effort, but it’s possible. Soka and Ben are good at balancing Tatooine care with Jedi control. If you talk to Ben, you get an entire philosophical breakdown about it, but I’m more concerned with the child psychology, because that’s what could have broken me.”

Windu frowns. “You’re building up to something.”

“I think the Jedi need programs for children found older who can’t become full Jedi,” Anakin asserts. “Even those who cannot reconcile what they absorbed growing up with the Code and Jedi tradition… they, we, need guidance. The Council tried to reject me for being too old, and now that I’m grown I understand why, but… Master Windu, what do you think would have happened to me if I hadn’t had my Master to fight for me, and had been turned away?”

“We’d have looked into placing you back with your mother and, upon finding out that she was still enslaved, secured her freedom,” Master Windu says. “Qui-Gon Jinn had taken responsibility for you, and thus you were a ward of the Temple until such a time as you were safe again. It would have been cruel to keep you from your mother if we were not to raise you a Jedi, and crueler still to allow you to return to slavery.”

“And you think I’d have been safe with her?” Anakin asks. He needs Master Windu to understand this. “You think that would have ended well?”

“You don’t?”

“Ventress,” Anakin says. “Maul. Aurra Sing, even.”

Windu considers that. He looks across the grand, green room of the garden, and finally speaks. “You think you’d have been found and corrupted by a Sith.”

“I’d already helped Naboo win a battle. I was a powerful child with no support system in this respect, eager to please,” Anakin says. “Ventress and Maul both got twisted into Sith Apprentices. Aurra Sing was just a bounty hunter, but… even if the Jedi had never found me, and the Sith remained unaware, do you think I’d have ended up better than Sing? Or would the pressures of slavery have led to my Fall anyway, eventually slaughtering my owner, the Hutts, the entire system of Tatooine’s hells?”

Windu rubs a hand over his forehead. “I understand what you’re getting at.”

“It’s not just me,” Anakin says, as carefully as he can. “Even without the Sith, there are plenty of Force-Sensitive children in terrible situations that are liable to Fall just because of how power is wielded by those at the bottom. Refusing to take on students who are already at risk… the Jedi are meant to monitor Force users to prevent Sith and other dark-aligned people from harming the galaxy. It’s one of our primary duties. If the Jedi are allowing darksiders to rise just because of an age limit…”

“I get it,” Windu says, just a little aggressive. “I understand. Give me a minute.”

Anakin tries to wait. He’s older now, he can do that. He can be patient.

He tries to convince himself that it’s true.

“You have a point,” Master Windu finally allows. “And with the knowledge that the Sith are out there, still, it’s a more salient point than most would think. The EduCorps already has a subdivision for teaching meditative techniques to low-level force users who need to learn shielding but aren’t sensitive enough to be Jedi, or are just too old, but I see your point about encouraging a program for powerful Force-Sensitives that aren’t discovered early enough to integrate into the community in full.”

“And a more comprehensive Search pattern for the Outer Rim?” Anakin suggests. He shrugs at the look he gets. “What? You’ve seen my midicount. I was on Tatooine for almost a decade, and the only reason anyone found me was that Qui-Gon had to crash a ship in the middle of nowhere. I’m sure the Force led him to me, given all the coincidences, but that’s still a solid nine years that nobody did, despite how I apparently ‘shine like the sun’ or whatever.”

“Humble.”

“The last time I took a midichlorian test on a portable counter, it literally broke the device. That’s not arrogance, that’s just absurd.”

Windu looks exhausted by the comment. Anakin can’t bring himself to feel too bad about it.

“What about Jedha?” Anakin suggests instead. “Jedi find the kids, but if they’re too old to be Jedi, we could coordinate with one of the temples at Jedha to see about having them raised in the traditions of the Whills? They’re a little less orthodox, aren’t they?”

“In some respects,” Master Windu says. “More constrained in others, but… it’s a possibility. Most of the overlooked children, yourself included, are from parts of the Outer Rim that aren’t part of the Republic, Skywalker.”

Anakin shrugs. “And many of them would have been happy to be found and collected by a Jedi, even if they couldn’t become Jedi. Not the Dathomiri, since they’ve got their own thing going on, but… from what I know about Ventress, she actually did have a Jedi Master before the situation on Rattatak became… what’s the word… untenable? He died and she was left alone, and she’d been a slave already and it just… did not end well for her. But that was a planet overrun by pirates and warlords, and would have been approved as a planet the Jedi could help without it being a weird colonialism thing… if the Senate weren’t made up of cheapskates, at least.”

“Skywalker.”

“My name isn’t actually a reprimand, you know.”

“You’re not supposed to just say that,” Windu groans, running a hand over his face. “The Senate’s choice in funding is not optimal, but insulting them in that way, even in private—”

“They’re assholes,” Anakin says, and doesn’t let his humor show. “Except my late wife, but she’s not part of the Senate in this time, so I feel no shame in accusing the entire shitshow of being cheapskates.”

Windu looks about ready to push him off the ledge.

“You’re never allowed to go on diplomatic missions, are you?” Windu mutters.

“Unless it’s to Mandalore,” Anakin clarifies. “Also, never send me to Tatooine. Ever. Please. I kriffing hate that planet.”

“I’m going to assume you have plans to kill a Hutt if we ever send you to—”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Windu sighs. “I’ll discuss this with the Council, see how they feel about reaching out to Jedha for your suggestion regarding the Whills.”

“And you’ll tell them not to worry about my kids?”

“Skywalker, they are never going to stop worrying about your family,” Windu tells him.

“That’s fair.”

[ectonurites]

Hii do you know in what comic Tim got adopted by Bruce? I know Tim pretended he had an uncle for a little while, why did he do that? Did he not want to be adopted?

Okay so Tim’s adoption (or rather him accepting Bruce’s offer to adopt him) is during One Year Later in 2006

(Batman #654)

If you’re familiar with the timeline of comic events in the 2000s, you might realize that Tim’s dad had actually died like two years before this, during Identity Crisis in 2004. You would also know that One Year Later picks up after an in-universe timeskip (going ahead a year after Infinite Crisis, an event that happened after Identity Crisis)

So bearing these things in mind we know Tim took some time before accepting this kind of offer from Bruce.

When Jack first died, it was really rough on Tim because things in their relationship had finally been looking up now that he knew the truth about Robin. His death was also literally the same week both Steph and Tim’s other friend Darla were killed, so that was a lot all at once. Jack’s death was also so hard on his step mom Dana that she actually had to be hospitalized to help deal with her grief (in Blüdhaven, which is why they moved there for a while)

(Robin #132)

Dana didn’t get custody of Tim because she herself hadn’t adopted him and she was unable to care for him because of her hospitalization anyways, so Bruce tried to step in and offer to adopt him the first time. Tim wasn’t upset about it or anything (his internal narration is very excited actually) but he still said to wait until his dad’s will was read.

(Robin #134)

Then he faked the will to create a relative, hired an actor etc etc you know the deal. Which does of course then beg the question of why, especially because Bruce and Tim have already had a vaguely father-son thing going on for a while at this point.

The primary answer we’re given/shown is independence. Tim didn’t want to be living under anyone else, he just wanted to do his own thing uninterrupted.

For example, literally one of the first things that Tim has his fake uncle do is take him out of school (before it’s even revealed to us readers that this guy isn’t actually his Uncle)

(Robin #137)

Bruce blatantly talks about how this was about Tim wanting independence when he figures out what’s going on

(Robin #138)

and again when he talks to Tim about it

(Robin #139)

So, that’s what it mainly boils down to. Tim was well aware if he was living with Bruce he’d still have to go to school and wouldn’t have the kind of freedom he wanted at the time (and also he’d be stuck in Gotham, somewhere he wanted some time away from because of all the losses he just dealt with there), so he did this whole elaborate thing instead.

(I think it’s also fair to extrapolate that there’s some frustration towards Bruce as a result of everything that went down during War Games, and that Tim wasn’t really ready to have Bruce be officially a father to him because Jack’s death was still too fresh)

But then Infinite Crisis happens, Conner dies, Blüdhaven gets destroyed (which presumably killed Dana although that never gets confirmed she just… never gets mentioned again!), and Tim spends a year away with Dick and Bruce

(Robin #156)

Along the way with these talks Tim had with Dick, I think he also realized that independence like that wasn’t what he really needed, that he needed family and people he can confide in, so the next time Bruce asked to adopt him he accepted the offer.

Then a sidenote but I think there’s something interesting there when you also think about how later during Red Robin he goes off on his own again and is in such a bad place again. When Tim self-isolates that’s when you know he’s at his lowest points.

Anyways the funniest thing in all of this is how Bruce just goes into such a dad moment anyways when talking to Tim about how Tim avoided getting adopted by him. They’re ridiculous

(Robin #139)

[greenygreenland]

What I'd Do For You:

-imagine Roy as your adoptive father

-he'd be so flawed but he'd try his hardest

-I write for females because that's what I'm most comfortable with, but it's not too prominent (please don't be offended! It's only what I'm comfortable with!)

Summary: You're feeling down. Roy's here to help.

Today was nothing short of a bad day. It poured as soon as you stepped out of the house, and before you could grab your umbrella, you realised you were going to be late. Not long after, you ran straight into Ed and Al, who both ignored you in favour of chasing some guy down the street.

Whatever, you told yourself. Not like I needed a 'hi' from my best friends anyway.

Not long after, a car zoomed by and splashed muddy water at you. If it weren't for the rain, you'd be caked in the stuff. As you continued down the street, some guy thought it would be fun to mug you. Of course, when he found out you were a state alchemist, he made a run for it. But that didn't make you feel better, not when there were people staring at you like you were a nuisance.

What did you ever do to them anyway? Maybe it was just the fact today was a terrible Monday afternoon.

When you got to Roy's office, your clothes were sopping wet, your hair a matted mess, and your heart, very much hardened and cold. You softly closed the door behind you. There was no point in slamming it when you didn't have the energy to be angry in the first place.

"(Y/n)?" Roy stared at you incredulously. "What happened to you?" You pointed to the window.. The pouring rain and gray clouds were enough of an answer. "Everything happened, that's what." He raised a brow with a short sigh. "'Everything' is quite vague, don't you think?" He stood and made his way to a cabinet. From seemingly nowhere, he found a towel and threw it at you.

"Thanks Roy." You ran it through your hair and placed it on the couch to sit on. It was just as wet as your clothes, but it wasn't like anyone had a blow dryer on hand. Roy took a seat across from you on the opposing couch. "Care to tell me what happened today?"

You thought back to the Elric brothers, then the mugging and everything else you had to go through today. Roy listened intently. "Why did you leave the house so late?" he inquired. "You could have been here at eight o'clock sharp if you hadn't been up all night reading. Then you could have avoided that mugger, the rain, and everything in between." You huffed. "So what? Changing one thing wouldn’t change the day. And besides, it was a good book. What else was I supposed to do?"

"Put it down." Roy plainly offered. "Save that 'last page' for tomorrow, or better yet, sleep before three in the morning." You didn't like the way he was looking at you, as if he were deciding on whether he should be disappointed, frustrated, or annoyed with you. But bad habits died hard. It wasn't easy to break out of those cycles.

You leaned back into the couch. Defeat crossed your eyes, and that was when Roy realized how tired you looked. It wasn't because of your constant travels, or the fact that Edward and Alphonse ignored you completely (he'd give them a piece of his mind later on), but because you were burnt out.

And maybe feeling a bit down.

"You've been studying a lot." Roy stated. You didn't need him to point out the obvious. It was no secret you were doing your best to help the Elric brothers on their journey towards finding their bodies. "Have you found anything useful?" You shook your head with a tight frown. There was so much you needed to work out, so many variables that didn't add up, and so many frauds you needed to uncover.

"Whenever we're close," you mumbled, "our goal keeps getting farther away. Sometimes I feel so useless while Ed and Al go off on their own accord. I just...I don't know." Your shoulders slumped and Roy's heart began to ache. "It's so hard, and I'm really..." A sigh escaped your lips.

"Tired?" Roy finished. He knew that look well, the one where your eyes darkened with clouds and you looked like you wanted to scream when you couldn't. Long ago, he had the same look. Silently, he swore he'd never do it again. At least, not when you were around.

Seeing that same look on your face made him sick to the stomach. "Take a day off," he started. "The Lieutenant is here so don't worry. As for the Elric brothers, I don't think they'll need your help now. They’re fine as is if you ask me." Roy winced at his words. He didn't mean to make it sound like you were unwanted. In fact, he wouldn't do that even if he was paid.

"Maybe I'm not needed by them anymore.” you concluded. “They're busy anyway, so they won't miss me. It’s been weeks since we last talked actually. And besides, Ed’s really great at everything he does. Same with Al. They’re skilled, smart, everything I’m not." You smiled and it was a bit watery.

Roy's lips parted. No, no, no, that wasn't what he meant. The urge to punch himself in the face was overwhelming. Why was he so bad at wording things?

You stood and folded the wet towel. "I'll take the day off. I'm not sure what I'll do though."

"Wait--"

"If you need me, I'll be around the block somewhere." You looked like you were about to cry, and all Roy could do was watch. He wanted to say something, but what if he made it worse? Saying 'Don't cry!' wasn't exactly comforting, and by the looks of it, you weren't in the mood to talk anything through.

A forced smile made its way to your lips. "I'll be back later Roy."

And just like that, you were gone. The door closed shut with a small click, leaving Roy alone in the quiet office. He stared at the phone on his desk tensely. Hughes was good with people, and he knew how to talk to (Y/n) better than most. If Roy called then maybe...

No. Why should he have to rely on Maes? This was (Y/n). He could deal with his daughter just fine. "Teenagers." He found himself making his way to the phone "Why are they so hard to understand?” The familiar beeping sounded on the other end as he dialed the number.

“Hello, could you connect me to Maes Hughes?”

-----

The lone bench you took refuge on was lonely. But you were fine with that. Here, no one could see you through all the pouring rain and darkened clouds. As your tears mixed in with the cold droplets, you stared into the far off distance. The trees swayed in the occasional breeze and you shivered.

Maybe you should have brought a coat.

Suddenly, the rain stopped pounding against your head. Your dampened hair had rivers flowing down it, and the tears that quietly came to a stop left your cheeks with stains.

“So this is where you’ve been,” a voice calmly said. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Why, after an hour, did he come looking for you in the rain? It wasn’t like it mattered. Roy settled by your side, the umbrella hovering above. “Here,” he handed you your coat, “you’re shivering.”

You pushed the coat away with a shake of your head. “I don’t need it.” There was a crack in your voice you covered with a cough. If Roy noticed or not, he didn’t show it. Instead, he helped you put on the coat. “It would be inconvenient if you were sick,” he decided. “How are you supposed to help the Elrics with a cold?”

That didn’t matter. The Elrics were busy for all you cared, and it wasn’t like they needed you anyway. “I’m dead weight, dad.” The words made your eyes sting again. “They don’t-t-they don’t need me.”

“And why is that?” Roy’s gentle tone made the tears fall fast. “Because, dad, I’m useless. Edward’s so much better at everything. He--he’s always saving the day and figuring out all of this country’s problem’s. And...and when I try to help, I always mess it up.”

You thought back to earlier today, where you bumped into the boys spontaneously. They might’ve been busy, but they blatantly ignored you. And the fact that they hadn’t called all week made you worry. Had you done something wrong? No, maybe they didn’t care for you anymore because you were so useless.

“I...I don’t know what to do.” With the umbrella over your head, Roy saw every tear as clear as day. He watched your shoulders tense and your fists clench into tight fists. You were trying to stop crying, but the tears kept coming and coming like a river.

How useless of you.

“Come here.” You didn't want Roy to see your face. “Come here,” he repeated. You hesitantly scooted closer to him on the soaking bench. He held the umbrella in his left hand and pulled you close with his other. When was the last time he actually hugged you like this? He couldn’t remember, and that made him feel guilty.

Was it his fault that you thought so lowly of yourself? Maybe he should have been more adamant on showing how proud he was of your accomplishments. Becoming a State Alchemist at this age was more than a simple privilege. It was a precedent that no generation had ever seen in their lives.

“Why do you compare yourself to Fullmetal?” he inquired, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “He’s not you.”

“But he’s better than me and I can’t measure up to him.” Roy shook his head dismissively. For a moment, you wondered you disappointed him. “It doesn’t matter what Fullmetal is, (Y/n). He’s strong, I admit, but the most hot-headed kid I’ve ever met. Unlike him out, you never let emotions blind your choices. That’s something Fullmetal can’t do. As for strength, you don’t need that.”

He smiled a little and it was so warm. It wasn’t everyday you got to see this side of Roy. He was always caught up in paperwork, plans, and looking after what he worked so hard to accomplish. “You have enough wits to outsmart me. Remember that time Fullmetal challenged me to a match?”

You nodded. “I joined because I didn’t think he could handle it. Ed didn’t want my help, but I ended up coming along anyway.” A smug smirk made its way up Roy’s lips. “And who lasted the longest?”

“Me.”

“And why was that?”

"Because I read your attack patterns?" You uncertainly replied. Roy frowned. "Say it like you mean it."

"Because I read your attack patterns." you repeated. An approving look made its way up your dad's face. "Exactly. Fullmetal has wit, but you are a much more terrifying opponent." You sniffled with a huff. "I'm not--I'm not even close to your level."

"You don't have to be." Roy turned his gaze to the pouring rain, as if he were thinking about how useless his alchemy would be. "If you believed in yourself more, then you will advance farther than you've already come."

That wasn't true. How could you believe in yourself when you felt like an absolute failure? It didn't matter how many successes you've had in the past, because what if they were all flukes? Some day, your luck would run out. Then you'd let your dad down, along with Ed and Al and Hawkeye and Uncle Maes and everyone else you knew.

"You're not a failure, if that's what you're thinking." Roy blurted out. "I couldn't be more proud of how far you've come. The day I met you, I thought I'd fail you. Look where we are now." He laughed a little and it made you relax in his hold. "If you were a failure, you wouldn't have become a reowned State Alchemist. You wouldn't have survived in the most dire times either, and you wouldn't have made me so proud of you."

Your eyes widened. Had you heard him right? You had to be hearing things. Roy met your gaze and smiled warmly. "Yes, I'm proud of you. Why wouldn't I be?" For a moment, you remained still. The gears in your head churned like clockwork, dissecting and rewinding the words Roy had spoken. You tentatively wrapped your arms around Roy's middle.

Yes, I'm proud of you.

You buried your head into his shoulder.

Why wouldn't I be?

And then you cried. Today was nothing short of a bad day, but if you hadn't forgotten your umbrella, gotten ignored by the Elrics, nearly mugged, or showed up late, then you wouldn't have been able to hear those words and the silent I love you's.

IF YOU LIKE THIS, PLEASE REBLOG (IT HELPS ME OUT SOOOO MUCH AS A WRITER!)

[shesawriter39049]

|Breakdown’s & Bugatti’s| M|

PAIRING: Namjoon x Reader (Ft a hint of Tae & Jin)

About- Namjoon just does what he has to do to keep you ....calm while at a charity gala!  

OR:

CHAPTER 1 : MEET THE KIMS OF NEW YORK 

**WARNINGS: **Semi public sex, Fingering (F receiving), Minimal prep, Light dirty talk, Light spit play, Choking, Spanking, Gags (Makeshift), Non protective sex (Creampie), light overstimulation

WC: 7K (This is a sneak peak so it’s 1.2k)

NON SEXUAL WARNINGS: (Fictional political background)  Hints at recreational drug use (Molly) Brief mentions of death, father issues, and panic attacks/anxiety (All of these topics are super minor but again, out of respect I’m mentioning them) 

The remaining “characters” will be introduced at a later date

This chapter hints at various future plots 

This is almost 2 years old, I reworked it recently 

If you’ve been following me for a while this is the original draft for “Club First Royale” 

FINAL NOTE: I haven’t been active in damn hear a year ( 8 months) So I am posting sneak peeks intentionally! No, not to torture you guys lol but to get my blog flowing again because I’m sure people aren’t really checking in anymore

OT7 ALTERNATING STORYLINES

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FINALLY, fuck 36737 years later you spot your Kim!

Standing there in all his glory, in a Valentino slim fit navy blue suit, the jacket appearing to have some sort of paisley print, opting against a tie. Leaving his crisp white dress shirt slightly unbuttoned, teasing at his broad carnalized chest as he makes his way from the bar. Heading over to the table, which has an empty seat waiting right beside him with your name written all over it...literally!

Purposely dodging the old lady to your left in a coat that would have PETA ready to throw hands! Gaudy diamonds, terrible Botox, and smelled as if she showered in an entire bottle Chanel No. 5! 

Yeah, no, sorry, not in the mood for another meet and greet right now!

“Joonie” Squeals from your lips once you’re in close enough proximity, his dark piercing eyes cut over to meet yours. A playful smirk tugging on those sinfully thick lips of his, accompanied by those disrespectful ass dimples!

“There she is!” Eyes dripping with warmth, as he ushered you in with open arms ,and in these types of situations, Namjoon felt like home, he was your safe space. “You look fuckin good” The words hushed into your hair in a tenor meant for your ears and your ears only! A hint of something a little more than just friendly playing on his tongue. 

A small little “Thank you” leaves your lips, and if I didn't know any better I’d think the compliment made you a little flustered.

Namjoon was the definition of Ocean arm’s and goddamn if you didn't just love how big this man was! It literally felt like he was hiding you from the entire universe when he has you nuzzled into his frame! The whole interaction couldn't have lasted longer than 20 seconds in all actuality but god you needed it! 

Face flush to his chest, wrapping your arms firm around his waist, letting your eyes flutter shut briefly, a deep slow exhale flooded through your body. Inhaling the musky yet sweet scent of his cologne mixed with his natural aroma, which has grown to become a calming mechanism over the years. 

“You had me worried for a minute…” Placing a quick kiss in your hair, that you would have missed if you blinked but again, your in public soo...

Palms soothing up and down your back gently, as he breathed into your hair , pulling back a little so there was some form of personal space between the two of you.  

“Your late, even for you princess...I know you started early, I got your live(Instagram) notification, so what happened?” Head clocked to the side as he appraises you and fuck, the bass in his voice still has you all types of fucked up! Glancing over your shoulder briefly before leaning up to place a kiss on the hinge of his jaw, that tittered the line of passing as an “innocent” greeting. 

“I’m fine Jonnie it’s nothing, we just got held up in glam.., Ariel was flying in from Miami...we got a late start” Gaze intentionally diverted as you welcomed yourself to his glass of Scotch instead. Damn near inhaling the entire drink as we speak and you hated dark liquor so that alone let him know something was up!  

Merely resisting the urge to smooth out the crease he felt forming between his brows, a dry snort left his lips, rolling his eyes in response to your blatant stubbornness. Nevertheless, always the gentleman, reaching down to pull out your chair so you could take a seat next to him. Mirroring your actions just moments prior, quickly scoping out his surroundings before he brought those plush pillows he calls lips a centimeter away from your ear.

Fuck. 

  “Right, so I'm just going to assume you don’t wanna talk about it right now! Or wait I’m sorry, have you just upgraded to insulting my intelligence straight to my damn face?” 

Brow quirked inquisitively, and you could literally feel every word, tone taking on a hint of seriousness the more he talked. Namjoon licked his lips and the tip skimmed the edge of your ear and I - . 

“For one you smell like an entire bottle of Heidsieck, I can almost taste the nicotine on your tongue and you've been crying I know you. ”  

Pulling back just enough to glare down at you above the brim of his glasses, which he always wore low along his bridge. Eyes daring you to look him in the face a lie again, teasing his fingers through his chocolate locks. Styled in the perfect semi grown out undercut, the top a little on the long side, while the sides tapered into a crisp fade. Sideburns outlining that extremely understated jawline of his! Though you had to admit the yellow gold diamonds dawning his ears were kinda stealing the show right now! 

“So again, do you just not wanna talk about it right now? Or have you forgotten that I have an IQ of 137, and can smell bullshit from here all the way to Gangnam!?” 

You're having very vivid day daydreams of your hand wrapped around this man's windpipe and for once it’s not even remotely sexual! 

Blatantly ignoring the strong twitch within Namjoon’s jaw and simply saying “I’m here, aren’t I!?” Face stoic, tone flat as all hell, in case it wasn’t clear that this conversation was more than over, you opted to eye his bourbon glazed salmon until he got the hint.

 “Oh, for fucks sake! ” Hissed from his lips without a lick of heat behind them, because as quiet as it’s kept ,your lowkey Joon’s baby, which is why he cares to begin with! Picking up a piece on his fork before essentially shoving it into your hand ”Your lucky I can’t have your ass getting sick on me tonight, we still have like, 3 hours left of this bullshit.”

More like he just can’t tell you no, but hey, whatever helps him sleep at night! Sliding his plate in your direction, completely giving up on eating at this point, he knew you needed it more anyway! Finally, starting to feel your mix of poisons hit your system so you knew you needed  to even it out with a little substance. I mean yeah, you could have just ordered your own plate but meh, this was easier! 

Namjoon started busying himself on his phone while you ate, scrolling through a couple contacts until he landed on a contact labeled under “Kookie”.

“Even though you were only late because “Your glam team ran late” There were air bunnies involved, and again you just really wanna choke his ass!  “What are you thinking tonight? He’s actually on his way here right now, but he already has a couple options on him...” 

The question was vague and for damn good reason...considering…

However you knew exactly what he was referring too.., and thank god!

Speaking over a mouth full of salmon, sounding utterly exasperated!  “Honestly, any fucking thing at this point…” 

Namjoon hums thoughtfully, sucking on a Bourbon soaked Ice cube “He’ll be here in 20, I just went with Smartees…always a safe bet...” 

Smartees, candy, Vitamin -E, Molly... Estcasy...it’s all one and the same, just depends on who you ask!

He leans back in, apparently keen on whispering tonight. “Maybe, if your a good girl and eat enough we can split one before we leave...chill you out a little bit. '' Voice thick and heady, lips curling into a grin with a hint of something wicked playing on the ends, as his fingers idly ghost over your forearm. Giving it a light squeeze and regardless of how innocent the skin-ship may seem to the naked eye, you’re well aware of all the underlying innuendos behind it! 

You make a noise of agreement, trying your damnedest to ignore the slight chill coursing up your spine at the pet name. Though before you could even dwell, Namjoon was sliding back in with another update, this one however wasn't as...arousing…to say the least!

“Fox 2’s been waiting for you to get here by the way...since the event was put together by council and all. They've been wanting to talk to us together about the fundraiser, just the same shit as last year.” 

Waving his hand dismissively idly twirling the various pieces of Bvlgari around his fingers, seemingly un-phased while you on the other hand...release the most exasperated huff! Reclining against your seat, eyes rolling to the back of your head in 30 different directions! Yeah, It comes with the territory, you know this, hints Namjoons reaction, or lack thereof!  But fuck you just really weren’t in the mood to do press tonight, It’s literally physically exhausting to pretend that you weren’t just PISSED! 

“Of -fuckin- course they do!” Stabbing your mashed potatoes in a way that's... somewhat concerning… 

“Baby.” It was a warning, though his voice sat barley above a whisper, his tone was crystal! Eyes cutting in your direction briefly before dropping back down to his phone….

You didn't have it in you to argue, there’s no way around this anyway, fuck it!  “What -the-fuck-ever!” Sliding the half empty plate aside “Well, you wanna just get it out of the way now? Because I’m really not in the mood for-”

“Y/n..oh my god! Hi, honey how are you!? You look beautiful as always…” Suddenly there was a human, a human wearing the wrong shade of foundation kissing your cheek. A human by the name of Caroline, one of the local news anchors...clearly her damn ears were ringing.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi guys, that’s all she wrote, well kinda, actually she finished it like 16 months ago lol but that’s all she wrote for now I guess....

**_

_****Love you...see ya soon!!**

***SIDE NOTE, MY FRIEND MADE THE TWITTER EDIT SO DON’T ASK LOL IDK ****

UPDATE: HEADCANONS FOR THE KIM BOYS/OC

  HEADCANONS

[blossom-hwa]

Sunflowers |Summer| - JUYEON

Can’t believe it’s already Juyeon’s birthday!!! Hope deobiblr enjoys my contribution for the birthday of one of the best dancers in the kpop industry <3

I will be doing a taglist for Sunflowers, so if you’d like to be notified when the next part goes up, send me a dm or an ask! Post dates are also on my posting schedule :)

Pairing: Juyeon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, high school!au

Triggers: cursing

Word Count: 2.3k

Juyeon is just a sunflower, following the light of your smile. 

Summer | Fall | Winter | Spring | Summer, Once More

TBZ Masterlist | Interwoven

~ in summer, a stranger comes home

. . . . .

It’s the middle of summer when your mom delivers you a little piece of seemingly innocuous news, a piece of glittering information wrapped in old magazines and tied with cheap string to disguise its sparkle. Her voice literally vibrates with excitement when she tells you, which probably should serve as a warning or a signal of some sort, but in your defense, you’re tired from a day of classes and research programs and just want to eat and die.

“Our old neighbors are coming back!” she bursts, a spring in her step that you haven’t seen since the day you were accepted to your current prestigious research camp. “You know, the Lees who used to live next door?”

You blink once, then twice before the information sinks in. A memory settles at the front of your mind. “The Lees?”

“Yes!” She smiles widely. “I missed Yuna so much, I can’t believe she and her family are actually moving back. Don’t you remember, you used to be such good friends with Juyeon?”

More blurry memories of playing in the grass and dancing in the living room with a chubby little boy flash through your mind. You remember playdates that turned into study sessions in middle school, study sessions that disappeared when Juyeon moved away. And though you’d like to forget it, you remember sobbing your eyes out the day he left at the end of summer, the weather turning to fall. Sunflowers were blooming that day, wreathing your lawn in an unfairly bright ring of yellow as you wrapped him in one last hug before his father started the car and the family drove away.

“Mhm,” you only say, taking a box of cookies out of the cupboard. “I remember.”

“Won’t it be so much fun for you two to meet again?” Your mother’s smile turns suggestive as she side-eyes you. “You two were always so adorable together. Didn’t you once say he was your boyfriend in kindergarten?”

That memory makes you cringe. “Thanks, Mom, I was doing a really good job of forgetting that before you mentioned it.”

“Oh, hush.” She shoos you out of the kitchen. “You two were so cute together. I have no doubt you’ll be the best of friends again when they come back.”

“I haven’t seen him in four years, Mom,” you remind her. “People change.”

A glint comes into your mom’s eye. “Maybe so,” she replies cryptically, “but some feelings remain.”

Okay, so in hindsight, you should’ve taken a lot of what she said as a warning that your life was about to get flipped upside down by Juyeon’s homecoming. But with everything already on your mind, you more or less forget about the news until one day towards the end of summer, when your dad tells you to come straight home after your classes.

You stare up at him over your bowl of cereal. “Why?” you ask, mouth full.

“You don’t remember?” Your mom sits down just across from you. “The Lees are moving back in today, and we’ve invited them to dinner!”

Your brain buffers for a good few minutes before you finally recall your dad saying something about “dinner with the Lees when they come back” a couple weeks ago. “I didn’t know they already came back.”

“Well, they are.” Your mom’s fingers tap on the table with excitement. “You have your research, but we’ll be helping them move back in today, and then they’re coming over for dinner. We’ll probably already be home before you get back, so try not to look too messy, okay?”

Wincing, you remember the several still-recovering formic acid burns on your forearms from several days ago. You can’t hide those. “I’ll do my best,” is all you promise.

So that afternoon, instead of staying behind and chatting with a few friends, you find yourself walking down the sidewalk to the front of your house much earlier than usual. There are new cars in the driveway next door.

With the sunflowers beginning to bloom on your and your neighbors’ lawns, it feels eerily similar to the day Juyeon and his family left.

A slight wave of nervousness roils in your stomach. Quickly, as you walk up the pathway to your house, you try to untangle your hair with your fingers, straightening out your shirt as best as you can. As tired as you are, you don’t want to make a bad impression on your parents’ good friends. You don’t exactly want to look horrible in front of Juyeon, either. Even though he probably doesn’t have any idea what you look like anymore.

With a deep breath, you grip the doorknob and twist. It’s locked.

Frowning, you look down at the unmoving handle. Your parents must’ve locked it by force of habit when they came back.

So you knock.

Literally nothing could have prepared you for the boy who opens the door several seconds later to your pounding. He’s tall, muscled, with fine features and a curious look in his eyes, and he looks vaguely familiar.

For several seconds, the two of you just stare at each other, neither saying a word. As you’re trying to figure out why a really hot guy is at your house right now, a much more familiar woman appears in your line of vision, smiling widely as she holds out her arms to you. “Oh, my!” she cries, pushing past the boy to wrap you up in a hug. “I haven’t seen you in so long! You’ve grown so much!”

“Hi, Mrs. Lee,” you reply, still trying to figure out who the tall boy is. It isn’t until she starts pulling away that you realize he has her nose and her eyes.

Huh?

Then –

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

You nearly stumble back into the door from shock. “JUYEON?”

. . .

Juyeon thought his feelings for you had disappeared, he really did. When he moved away and thought he was never coming back, he took the love he’d held for you for so long, put it into a box at the back of his heart, locked it, and threw the key away. And as the years slowly passed, one after another, the box slowly disappeared from the forefront of Juyeon’s mind. He never forgot about it, but memories of you eventually stopped plaguing his mind day and night.

But that box never disappeared, not really. He thought it did, thought it dissolved into nothing over the years. Instead, it stayed, small but there, waiting for the right moment to burst and flood his body with the feelings he’d so carefully packed away so long ago.

That right moment is apparently when he opens the door to see a face he really never thought he’d ever see again.

Juyeon doesn’t recognize you, not at first. At second glance, he can pick out some distinct features that stayed the same (namely the sparkle in your eyes that hasn’t changed, even after all this time away). But during those first moments when he opens the door, he just stands there, trying to figure out who this person in front of him is.

Then it hits him, and the box of feelings explodes just as his mom starts pushing him away to wrap you in a hug.

You clearly don’t recognize him, judging by the curious looks you keep giving him over his mom’s shoulder. That makes Juyeon self-conscious – he hasn’t changed that much from when he left, has he? – and the embarrassment only compounds when you stumble back into the door, eyes widening as you yell his name in shock.

So, suffice to say, the conversation between you two at dinner is almost nonexistent. You look like you want the ground to eat you alive in your seat across from Juyeon, eyes barely looking up throughout the whole meal, talking only when someone asks you a direct question. Meanwhile, Juyeon’s stuck in his head.

Why, he despairs, didn’t these feelings actually disappear? Why does he still want to look into your eyes, get lost in your gaze like he used to so many years ago? Thoughts spin in circles in his head, thoughts of how you’ve changed and how you’ve stayed the same and how, oh God, his heart still races like no tomorrow when you meet his eyes for the briefest second before looking away out of embarrassment.

Juyeon needs a moment. He needs a moment to breathe, to think, to reason himself through this whole situation, which is why he volunteers to wash the dishes after dinner. Your mom starts praising him for being a perfect son and he dutifully lowers his head in embarrassed acknowledgment, thanking the heavens that he’ll have a moment to actually think, before she then looks at you to ask, “Why don’t you help Juyeon too?” and the world starts crumbling around his feet.

In perfect tandem, the two of you start picking up empty plates and bowls and carrying them to the kitchen sink. The adults make their way to the living room, laughing and chattering loudly, which only makes the potent silence between you two more prominent.

“I can wash,” you offer awkwardly, still barely able to look Juyeon in the eye (which is perfectly fine, because he thinks he might combust if you do just that). “You can dry? If you’re all right with that.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Juyeon tries to flash a smile, hoping it isn’t too shaky (the thumping in his heart makes it feel like the world is trembling around his feet). As the water runs and you start passing plates over to him, he does his best to ignore how close you are, how easy it would be to accidentally brush your arm with his.

Silence reigns until half the dishes are dry, and then you open your mouth. “Sorry about earlier,” you blurt, embarrassment and shame visible on your face. “I, uh, didn’t recognize you at first. Freaked out for a second.”

It’s surprisingly easy to laugh at that, to laugh at a statement that’s so blatantly you. You still haven’t changed, Juyeon thinks – you’re still the same bluntly apologetic friend he was in love with four years ago. It cheers him when your lips begin to turn up at his burst of laughter, face still embarrassed but beginning to warm with some happiness. “It’s okay,” he says, drying the next plate. “I didn’t recognize you either, not at first.”

“Well, I guess we can say that we’ve both changed,” you acknowledge, finally looking up fully.

Your smile could bring legions to their knees, Juyeon thinks. It certainly stops his hands from drying the next dish – in fact, he almost drops it. Even though the curve of your lips is small and he can’t see all of your teeth, the sparkle in your eye more than makes up for it. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah.”

The two of you scrub dishes for the next few minutes in quiet again. Juyeon has no idea what you’re thinking, but he’s just trying to calm the beating in his heart.

This is not how he expected to feel when he moved back. Not at all. What he’s feeling isn’t even just everything he locked away at the end of seventh grade – somehow, the emotions have multiplied, compounded over years of neglect, and now he’s getting the full force of it.

“My mom wants us to be friends again,” you say, breaking the silence once again. “What do you think about that?”

Um, what the fuck is that supposed to mean? Juyeon thinks. Do you want to be his friend again? Or are you only trying to be nice to him for the sake of your parents?

“Well.” Juyeon bites his lip. “If you want to be friends again, I’d like that. But if it’s, um, just because of your mom, we don’t have to.”

At that, you smack a rubber-gloved, soapy hand against your head, shrieking slightly when you realize there are suds in your hair. Juyeon laughs, really laughs as he hands you a towel from a nearby rack. “God, I’m a fucking mess,” you groan, wiping the bubbles from your forehead. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I don’t want to be your friend again just because of our parents, that was just the only way I could think of to bring up the topic and yeah, I should’ve thought this out, I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Didn’t you get into one of the most prestigious research camps in the country?” Juyeon counters, hands moving automatically to take the towel from you and wiping off the suds himself. “You’re not an idiot.”

“Yes, I am.” You sigh. “I think it’d be nice to be friends again. If that’s fine with you.”

With your words fluttering in his heart, it takes Juyeon a good moment to realize he’s been standing with the towel pressed against your head for a full few seconds. Heat rising to his ears (he hopes you don’t see that), he quickly wipes off the last of the bubbles and returns the towel to the rack. “That’d be nice,” he echoes softly. “I’d like that.”

The smile you give him, tentative but much wider than before, makes Juyeon feel like he’s flying. He’s so far gone, he thinks, drying the last dish. He’s only seen you again for a few hours, and already your smile has him feeling some kind of way.

He’d follow that smile, he thinks. He’d follow that smile anywhere, just like one of the sunflowers on your lawn outside chasing the sun from dawn to dusk. That’s all he is, after all. A sunflower, following the light of your smile.

And as you look up, eyes scrunched as he says something to make you laugh, Juyeon doesn’t think he minds.

Not in the slightest.

[actual-fucking-clown]

Take your time then.

Aizawa x gender neutral reader

Story under the cut :)

Unedited but like edited but still not properly edited :)

Hope you enjoy!!!

a/n: it’s been a hot min since I’ve written a fic. I think the last time i was 14 and it was shit and on wattpad. Ha. I hate myself. N e way, I was recently writing some shit for an au me and my friend thought up and in the back of my mind I was like, “you should start writing fics again bc this is kinda fun”, soo lo and behold I made a post asking if anyone would be interested, shared a little too much personal shit in it but whatever, and have now decided to write this mother fucker. (3/25/21)

a/n: not sure if anyone will care about this series of a/n’s but I’m just chronicling thoughts ig. rewriting rn bc my first draft was short and ass. Also I’m thinking about opening requests after this is posted, will go into detail in a diff post maybe. (3/28/21)

a/n: deleted everything, rewriting. I just want to make something that might be decent and if I can give that feeling, y’know those chills you get when you read something utterly gorgeous, but I’m bad at writing. sadge (3/28/21, like several hours later)

a/n: ugh (4/1/21)

a/n: ugh pt 2 electric boogaloo. I can’t seem to move forward with the writing. I realized something like this might happen bc to solve a problem feelings need to be discussed and I fucking hate doing that so you can see where I’m fucking up lmaooooo (4/2/21)

a/n: I read angst to fuel my writing brain. So, read some angst, finally writing agian. This first section is probs as long as the story itself LMFAO(4/5/21)

Started: (3/25/21) Finished: (4/5/21)

Warnings: uh angst, curse words, like a lot, (i saw someone else put this as a warning, do I actually need it?), avoiding problems instead of actually facing them, mentions of shit so-so parenting, mentions of not being able to live up to high expectations, y’know, the works

Synopsis: Aizawa takes in Eri without running it by you first and expects you to be okay with it. That’s funny. He was wrong.

Can I preface this with a thought? I’m going to anyway,

all the fics I read paint him as the sweetest partner and I’m sure he is but I think they miss out on how blunt he is and his whole “Mr. Rationality” thing. So as much as I adore him I think there are situations that he’d be a bit more colder towards, a bit more straightforward about. Maybe even like a bit insensitive about but maybe bc he doesn’t have the full picture or something. so I guess this is another warning but aizawa is a little insensitive in the beginning (but like not really but kinda. it’s complicated)

~

Rain pattered softly against the window. The smell of some old random Bath and Bodyworks candle you’d dug out from a box you’d never bothered to unpack smothered the room. Some Netflix show idly played on a low volume on your computer, you’d lost interest in watching tv awhile ago. You needed a break. After the eventful month you’d been having you really needed this. 

Now of course your whole year so far had been eventful. What with all the villain attacks on you and Shouta’s class and the kidnapping of one of your students, to just dealing with the more mundane problems with your students. No. You had no problem with that. The villains, although not easy, were something you were trained to handle. The smaller problems with your students weren’t arduous either, after all you weren’t too much older than them. 

When reflecting on your situation, from and outside perspective it could be seen as the straw the broke the camels back, which sure, makes sense. After all, you’re bound to be stressed out by everything else, so why would this seemingly insignificant thing weigh heavier than a villain attack? Well if that is the situation why does this single straw feel like it weighs a ton? This is not that. This is not culmination of the events of this year draining the life from you. This is something entirely different. A panic inducing life change that completely took you by surprise mixed with your inability to actually face your problems. 

You don’t blame them. You can’t. They’ve done nothing wrong. A child. A small, probably mentally scarred child is your problem. Well not her personally but the fear taking care of her instills in you. Despite working in the field that you do, you cannot for the life of you handle actual children. Sure you’re a little awkward with your class but at least they’re young adults and (vaguely) mature and independent to a certain extent. The fact that your long term boyfriend just came back one day, small child in tow and said “Hey I’ve gotta look after this one now” not verbatim obviously, for a lack of better words, fucked you up. He basically solo adopted a kid and, let’s be honest, he probably expected you to help out. But how could you? How could this man look at you and think “I want this person to help me raise an already fucked up child?” Ok sure, he doesn’t at first give off the “I’m totally father figure material” vibe but in the end he is extremely competent. You on the other hand, not so much.

You’d never been good with children. Tried your best to steer clear of them. Didn’t matter the place, didn’t matter who’s kid, you couldn’t handle them. You would just stand there, awkwardly, not entirely sure of what to do and petrified that there was the possibility of making some mistake which would upset the child and then oh wow look, your head got chopped right of your shoulders. That’s hyperbole of course but it does sum up the insurmountable fear that overcomes you whenever you have to deal with a child. So considering the fact that your long term boyfriend had suddenly decided to adopt and not at least warn you, didn’t sit right with you.

So, the best and most obvious choice, was to avoid your problem. Avoid Shouta, avoid Eri. Avoid the mention of them and you, avoid it all. And honestly you’d done pretty well so far. You were able to have as little contact with them as possible considering the close proximity of your living quarters in the teacher’s dorms. After all they were legally supposed to give you two separate rooms but you never actually used yours, well until now. You were living it up honestly. Did you feel awful? Of course. He is your boyfriend after all and you were sure Eri doesn’t deserve your cold shoulder but this is probably for the best. What could you offer her? You weren’t sure that you were a good role model for her or anyone for that matter. What did you know about raising kids? it’s not like you had parents to set a proper example for you. Of course they might have shown you what not to do but where do you go from there? Is shit like that really avoidable? You don’t want to be like them. You strive to be better but what if you can’t be. There’s also the added bonus of the fact that raising a kid seems taxing on a relationship. Now matter how strong you were sure that the stress of a kid could break a relationship down that then festers into something toxic and unrecognizable. You didn’t want that. God you couldn’t let that happen. No. This was definitely for the better.

Of course Aizawa didn’t feel the same. He was confused on why his partner had been so blatantly avoiding him. Did he do something wrong? He doesn’t remember doing anything that might’ve upset you. So why now? Why pull away now? He had to get down to the bottom of this but catching you was the hard part. You had been taking on more work, offering more assistance to the other teachers, picking up extra patrols, doing everything and anything to stay away from Shouta. It took him a month but he finally caught up to you. You were tired, worn out he knew that. Instead of loading yourself with work you’d decided to hole yourself up in your room. It was now or never.

You were pulled out of your peace at the sound of a few gentle knocks to your door. You really didn’t want to get it. You honestly couldn’t be bothered. 

“(N/n)? Are you in there?” He hadn’t gotten it wrong right? He hadn’t been too distracted earlier and missed you leaving right?

“What’s up?” You hummed from your place by the window, not bothering to actually open the door.

“Can I come in?” Shouta asked, voice soft. You could barely hear him above the patter of the rain and the low humming of your laptop.

“Uh, no, kinda busy. Got loads of work to do. Need to focus, sorry. Maybe later?” You hesitantly spoke. Not sure if you were convincing enough. 

Apparently you weren’t.

He sighed. “It’s been “later” for an entire month. Please (Y/n) just let me in. Whatever this is we can talk it out.” You had predicted that eventually Shouta would start to try to crack down on whatever the issue was but you didn’t expect it so soon. 

“Uh...no?” You tried, hoping that maybe he’d just give up but that wasn’t Shouta.

“No, you don’t get that option, now please, open the door.” Although it was still soft his voice had taken a more stern tone.

“Oh no I’m dead. I guess I can’t open the door. What a shame. I guess the only way to talk with me now is in the pits of hell.” You quipped, trying to lessen the tension that already ran thick.

“(Y/n).” Aizawa sighed.

“Jeez fine. Talk about pushy.” You quipped once more to no avail.

Opening the door you were met with, well exactly what you expected. He stood there, arms crossed, a stern yet gentle look in his eyes, his lips pulled into a slight frown. 

“Come in.” You mumbled as you stepped further into your room.

“So tell me. What’s wrong?” The sentence stirred so much. Of course you wanted to tell him. You wanted to spill your guts to the man you loved in hopes of comfort but you just can’t. You know you’ll just scare him off. You know you’ll make things worse.

So you stay silent.

He says nothing as he grabs your hands gently and leads you over to your bed. He sits the two of you down on the edge, muting the movie on the laptop sitting behind him.

“You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you right?” Shouta sent you a warm smile. 

You weren’t very comfortable with discussing your feelings sometimes, it mostly stemmed from the fact that you never really could discuss them with anyone growing up which made it harder to confide in anyone now, as at this point bottling things up was a habit. But this was also just something that you were sure that you couldn’t talk about.

Silence answered him once again.

Now he took sometime to think about his approach, think about what could’ve happened that made you pull away. What did he do that was different from his norm? He was genuinely stumped and the fact that you weren’t helping him confused him even more.

You decided to take this time to lament the situation too. What was he going to do? Should you actually tell him or play it off? If you play it off will he still insist that something is wrong? If you tell him will he leave you? If you don’t tell him will he leave you? You risked a glance at him, he was still deep in thought.

Why did you have to adopt this fucking kid without at least warning me?

“What?” Your head shot up at the sound of his shocked voice.

“What?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“Eri’s the problem...?” He spoke slowly, not entirely sure if he’d heard you right.

“Did I say that out loud?” You squeaked.

“I’m pretty sure you mumbled something along the lines of “why’d you have to adopt that fucking kid”.” Shouta said, unsure if he’d heard wrong. Wanting to have heard wrong.

“No no no no no no! It’s not like that! I mean it is like that but not like that!” You frantically waved your hands in hopes of defusing the situation.

The way he looked at you made you want to cry. You felt horrible. You felt like the biggest asshole in the world and, at this point you probably were. He looked at you with such a look of heartbreak and disappointment and confusion it made you sick to your stomach. You felt light-headed and started shaking. You were right. You were right. You were always right. God why did you have to be right! Why did you have to be like this? Scared of raising a fucking child! It was asinine and irrational and you could probably move past it  but thanks to your stupid fucking brain you just sealed your fate.

You scooted away from him still waving your hands frantically as no’s tumbled endlessly from your lips. You tried sputtering an apology, anything so that he wouldn’t look at you like that but nothing stuck. Nothing was comprehensible. Nothing worked. Nothing would work. Nothing will work. You were hopeless. It was hopeless. 

“If it isn’t like how it seems then tell it to me straight.” Shouta finally spoke up.

You took a second to come down from your panic. You steeled your nerves as much as possible before you spoke. 

“Um well, I have nothing against her it’s just that a little heads up would’ve been nice? I’m not all that great with kids so this is just kind of weird is all.” You were purposefully being vague in hopes that he’d understand what you meant and also maybe drop it.

“Not great with kids? You’re literally a teacher.” He pointed out.

“Yeah you know but she’s like a kid kid and let’s be honest I’m not too great with the students either.” You awkward laughed. So he wasn’t getting it.

“Wha-you’re fine with the students and I’m sure you’ll be fine with Eri, there was no reason to avoid me over this.” Shouta sighed. As good as he was with dealing with people, he was equally as shit. Or maybe it was just the fact that you gave him very little to work with. It was probably a bit of both. Still his dismissiveness was not helping you right now.

“No, no, no, no. I think I’ll stay here. Uh, good luck with your parenthood escapades and sorry to leave you high and dry like this but that’s going to have to be a no from me.” You rambled. He seemed to be getting a little tired of this.

“(Y/n) stop being irrational. She’s not even our kid I’m just looking after her for now. Why are you being difficult? I told you you were fine with the students and you’ll be fine with Eri, what else do you want to hear?” Shouta grumbled.

“Well uh I don’t know, uh...” You trailed off, this seemed to be going in a direction you really didn’t want it to go. A slight hostility settling in the air.

At your lack of a proper answer he clicked his tongue. He took a moment to reassess the situation. There had to be something he was missing. After all you were getting really worked up but if you weren’t going to talk to him there was nothing he could do. He shook his head before running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“(Y/n), please, please, just be honest with me. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you can tell me. But I won’t be able to understand if you don’t.” Aizawa sighed, deciding that getting worked up about this was not the way to go, especially when you seemed to be especially distraught.

“Uh, god the thing is I don’t know entirely what to say to put the shitshow in my head into perspective.” You mumbled, trying desperately to figure out what to say that could clear the air but nothing seemed to be coherent enough.

“Take your time.” He decided that this was the best approach to things, making sure neither party got too worked up lest this turn into a fight.

The rain continued to patter softly against the window and your candle continued to burn an slightly off floral-ish scent.  A deafening silence hung in the air because even though he was being as patient as possible some of his frustration leaked through, it was bound to though so you couldn’t exactly blame him. After all, you were probably equally as frustrated with yourself too. 

“I’m just not good in a position like this. I’m not good with kids, especially someone like Eri who’s already so broken. You have that nurturing nature, it comes natural to you but I’m not on that level. I  don’t know the first thing about caring for a child let alone one as already traumatized as her. I’d fuck it up and only make things worse. I don’t want you to reassure me that I’ll be okay with her, I want you to understand that I’m not comfortable with this and that it might take me awhile to come around. I’m sure I sound like the biggest asshole ever but please understand that this just isn’t something I’m ready for.” You had rambled a bit, you were aware of that, but it was the only way that you could properly express your feelings without making things too complicated.

Aizawa said nothing. Trying to figure out how to go about things.

Was he upset? Yeah, you two, even after several long years of being together, hadn’t discussed moving forward in your relationship in depth. And if he’d tried you seemed content with the point you two were at so he left it be, no reason to try and move forward when what you had was already fine the way it was. But recently he’d been craving more. Some mornings, when he’d be the first to wake, he’d study your features in the soft light of the sunrise and wonder what it’d be like to properly settle down with you. Get married, start a family, all that jazz. He’d taken in Eri only because it was the most rational decision. His quirk would be good for quelling hers had it ever gotten out of hand. But it also seemed to quell his musings of something more with you. He had imagined you being a good parental figure for the little girl and it made his heart flutter and his stomach explode with butterflies. But now seeing that that wasn’t what you wanted and how you weren’t ready for it, it stung. But in the end, he loved you. He’d easily give his life for you. So, if that meant waiting he’d wait. He’d wait a million years if he had to. He could do it.

Once again he spoke,

“Take your time then. I can wait.”

Tagslist?: @captainchrisstan (I think you said you wanted to be tagged but I’m also just small brained lol If u didn’t want to and I misinterpreted things just let me know :) )

[wylanvnneck]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write the angst prompt number 1 with jurdan??🥰

Angst Prompt #1: “The worst part is you didn’t even notice.”

Fandom: TFOTA

Ship: Jurdan

Masterlist | Prompt List

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High pitched giggles peal through the air and the noise makes the 21 year old Cardan Greenbriar wince. He’d been away from his hometown of Elfhame for 2 years now, having happily left it and his controlling family behind after graduation to go live in his dorm room back at Insmire University with his crazy roommates. Yet here he was, back again for a week-long visit in honour of his old friend Locke’s engagement.

He and Locke had never been all that close to begin with, but he had been his oldest friend, and it did seem like a good idea to come back for a bit and see how much things had changed in the years since he’d be gone, which didn’t seem to be all that much. 

Locke was still the same fox-faced wastrel that he had been, except that he was now engaged and the other member of their old gang, Valerian was still as snarky as usual, a perpetual sneer on his face whenever someone attempted to speak to him. Seated at a round outdoors table surrounded by his High School acquaintances, Cardan feels nothing but boredom.

He grips the neck of his wine glass even tighter when he sees the source of the giggling emerge from Locke’s house where his engagement party was being hosted. Taryn Duarte the Bride to Be and her posse of friends strut out into the garden from the inside of the house where they’d been gathered together doing goodness knows what for the past half hour. A glimpse of blue hair catches his eye and he recognises it as belonging to a girl named Nicasia that he used to be friends with back in High School, a million years ago.

Taryn’s six inch heels click against the asphalt of the garden path and the sight of her familiar icy brown eyes and dark hair brings up a volley of almost forgotten feelings within him. Not feelings for the rather cold female before him, but for who she reminded him of. Her twin.

Involuntarily he finds himself scanning the group of women for any sign of Taryn’s sister before coming up short and then chastising himself for looking in the first place. Jude belonged in the past where he had buried her. He takes another sip of the red wine in his hand before shifting his attention back to the conversations happening at his table, a politely unimpressed looking Garrett talked in low tones with his friend Van, both of them engrossed in whatever they were discussing, and a slightly inebriated Valerian was attempting to flirt with the disgusted woman seated next to him. 

Resisting the urge to let out a growl he downs the contents of his glass in one go before standing up to re-enter the house and get a refill, needing some kind of distraction.

He’s just finished pouring some more Merlot into his glass from the otherwise empty bar table when a rustling sound travels from somewhere nearby. He glances up at the staircase by the other end of the room, catching sight of a silky white fabric and dark brown hair before whoever it was disappears from view. Stange, he’d thought all of the other guests were outside. Setting his glass down on the table he climbs up the stairs, curiosity getting the better of him. 

Having reached the landing he searches for any sign of where the person might have gone, walking a little further down the hallway on the left before seeing the big French windows leading out to the balcony flung open, the cool night air drifting in.

Cautiously, he approaches, his body going on high alert when he notices who it is that’s standing out on the balcony, hands loosely clutching the metal rails and face turned up towards the starlit sky. Her chestnut hair is tied in an intricate braid hanging down her back and she’s wearing a slim fitting black top and flowy white pants which sway gently around her legs and she looks even more gorgeous than she had in their High School days. He takes a moment to catch his breath before slowly trudging forwards to join her.

She turns when she hears footsteps approaching, a slight frown marring her expression before she recognises him and it clears. Her gaze is as disarming as it used to be.

"Shit, man, don't just sneak up on people like that," a corner of her lip quirks.

He holds up his hands in mock surrender, "Oops, sorry."

“I didn’t know you were coming.” He catches the questioning lilt in her statement.

“It was a last minute kind of thing, I wasn’t sure if I’d be coming either, until yesterday.”

She nods and he positions himself next to her but at a safe distance, one hand coming to rest carelessly on the balcony rail next to hers.

He watches her let out a soft whoosh of breath, looking down at the garden where people were now dancing to the music that had started playing on the expensive speaker set under the bright fairy lights. There’s laughter and cigarette smoke wafting upwards, but from their little spot up above, everything seemed to be much farther away than it really was. 

Eventually, he breaks the silence. “So, Taryn and Locke, huh?”

“Yep.” She replies. The look on her face is one he can’t quite decipher.

He clears his throat and speaks in a tight voice. “Are you...upset by that? I know you and Locke used to be close.” 

He recalls the rumour that used to fly around during their senior year, people whispering about Jude and Locke having a thing. He also remembers the sharp pain that he’d felt when he’d heard that Locke had asked Jude to be his date to their Senior prom and that she’d accepted. Cardan vaguely remembers asking Nicasia to be his date to that very same prom, but the only thing that comes to mind when he thinks about that night is the haze of jealousy that had clouded his mind when he’d seen Locke twirling a grinning Jude around the dance floor.

“Me and Locke? God no. He was just a friend. Although, I think even that was only because he kept showing up and trying to talk to me in Senior Year for no apparent reason.” 

Cardan feels a surprisingly strong sense of relief wash over him at the fact that Jude was never interested in Locke that way, before his eyebrows knit together a moment later. He’d drunkenly confessed his ginormous crush on Jude to Locke at the start of their senior year, and immediately regretted it the next day. It wouldn’t surprise him if Locke had been cozying up to Jude simply to get on his nerves. It definitely seemed like something the manipulative scoundrel would do.

Not that it mattered anymore. Years had passed and he’d probably lost his chance. If he’d ever had the chance in the first place.

“I heard you’ve been off at uni all this time. Insmire, huh?” Her words are light but he’s slightly astonished that she’d been keeping track of where he’d been for the past few years. 

“Yeah, it was the break I needed.”

“What are you studying?”

“My dad wanted me to do Business for when I inherit his company, but I’m also doing a course on Classical and Ancient Languages, purely because I wanted to.”

“That’s great, Cardan.” Her sincerity is clear. “I remember how controlling your dad was. It’s great that you’re finally getting to be your own person.”

He’s sure that his astonishment at her words is blatantly obvious because a barely detectable flush travels up her neck and she averts her gaze. Not only had Jude Duarte been keeping track of where he’d been, she’d also noticed his strained relationship with his father all those years ago. A thrill rises up inside of him.

“Thank you.” He pauses. “So what have you been up to these days?” he asks, like he hasn’t been checking her social media pages at least once every few months, unwittingly grinning whenever he came across one of her rare posts with her and her few friends hanging out together outside of her own University in Nightfell. 

“Oh, same as you actually, getting a taste of independence at Uni. Doing a course on Criminal Justice.”

“That sounds amazing. Tell me all about it.”

And she does, her eyes lighting up as she talks about a subject that she enjoys studying and half of his attention is taken up by what she’s saying and the other half is just focused on her, on the way the moon illuminates one half of her and how the breeze is playing with a few loose strands of her hair and the way her mouth is moving whilst she speaks. They chat for what feels like ages before the conversation eventually flows to a comfortable halt and they hear the clanging of plates and glasses below as the other guests start on dinner, and he knows they’ll have to leave this place of idyll at some point.

He hates that. That they’re on borrowed time and that they were separated by too many years and very separate lives for their situation to be anything different now. And yet, he needs to tell her, to let her know, even if it can’t change anything.

“You know, back in High School I used to daydream about this. You and I, just talking.” He knows that the tips of his ears are probably flaming red, just like the rest of his head, but he forces himself not to look down and to keep meeting her stare. Her eyes widen when she registers what he’d said.

“I-What?” Her shock is apparent.

He breaks eye contact with her, withdrawing his hand from the spot next to hers on the rail, the disappointment coursing through him undeniable. He’d known that she’d never noticed him, but it still hurt to see the bafflement in her reaction.  

“I had a crush on you for ages, pathetic pining and all, and the worst part is you didn’t even notice.”

She flounders, mouth slightly agape, for once not having a response and the smile that curls his lips is one without mirth.

“Well, it’s been nice talking to you Jude,” he grits out, swiftly turning in an attempt to flee with what was left of his dignity.

He’d made it to the top of the staircase before hearing her voice calling after him. 

“Cardan! Cardan wait, goddammit.”

Reluctantly, he stops, bracing himself for the awkwardness of the next few minutes. She’d look at him with pity, explain to him that she wasn’t interested, or maybe that she had someone else. That last thought lances through him like a punch to the gut. During his self-indulgent social media searches he had never seen any posts that indicated that there was someone special in her life, but that didn’t necessarily mean that there wasn’t anyone. After all, Jude Duarte was a special type of woman, the type of woman that you fought for.

Too bad that he’d figured that out too late.

The sound of her boots clacking on the floor gets closer and closer and he turns around just in time for her to throw her arms around his neck and drag his head down to connect their lips, their noses bumping together in the process. Time stops, and his every High School fantasy comes true when he feels her tangle her tongue with his and it’s a little sloppy at first, especially since she had caught him off guard, but they find their rhythm and flames lick through his entire being. Frantically, he grabs a hold of her waist and pushes her until she’s against the wall, her fingers coming up to tangle in his locks as he strokes her sides.

She pulls away to breathe and they’re both panting harshly as if they had run a marathon. 

“I had a crush on you too. I hated it and I tried to fight it because you used to pick on me in middle school.” 

Had he? It was so long ago that he really couldn’t remember, but he also knew that he was precisely the type of person who’d want to hurt the girl that got under his skin.

“Really?” He grins ruefully.

“Yes, really.” She reaches up and playfully smacks the back of his head before carding her fingers through his hair in the same spot to soothe it.

‘Well, my middle school self humbly begs for your forgiveness.” He leans forward and presses their foreheads together, locking his gaze with hers.

“Apology accepted.”

And then they’re kissing once more. He may not have been prepared for a moment like this, but he was sure as hell going to hold on to it and never let go.

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Some soft boi Cardan for you lovely peeps. I hope you see this and that you enjoy, Anon. Thanks for the ask!

Tagging: @cupcakesandkittens , @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln, @thewickedkings , @kittkatandbooboo , @min-unicorn, @fangirlprincess09, @thefolkofthefic

Let me know if you’d like to be added to or taken off of the tag list🌻

[katnissmellarkkk]

Chapter Two

Hiiii! Okay, soooo I wanted to get the new chapter out ASAP! I really, really love any of you guys who read/kudoed/commented or anything on AO3 🥰🥰🥰🥰. Means the world to me.

As I mentioned on here yesterday, my one eye is basically sore and I went to the eye doctor and basically can’t wear my contacts for a few days. So because of my how nearsighted I am and the fact that I haven’t updated my glasses prescription in over a decade .... I edited this chapter on my phone? So yeah. I think it turned out just as well as any of my other writing but ya know. For verification, if there’s some mistakes here or there. Ya girl was tryin, ok. 😂😂😂😂😅😅😅😅😬😬😬😬😬😬.

Okay anyways I’ll stop talking, here’s the next chapter :

“You just have to get to know her,” Peeta claimed. “Bailey’s a good person. Don’t let her outer shell fool you.”

What I really wanted to ask him was how he ever got beyond her—as he so delicately phrased it—outer shell.

Never big on social interactions, on top of being generally awful at making friends, I did my best to get all the information Peeta would willingly offer about his new, mysterious girlfriend, before having to deal with her directly.

Which wasn’t much. Peeta, the boy who gossiped about his father wanting to marry my mother while we were in a televised death match, who seemed to always have some insight on other people, who never hesitated to share his gossip with me before now, suddenly had tight lips when it came to Bailey Robyn.

The biggest emission I got from him was, “she had a childhood a lot like mine.”

I don’t know what that means? Bailey was the child of District Nine’s baker? District Nine had a class divide as well and she was of a merchant equivalent? She was a popular wrestler?

And then it hit me all at once. Like a train storming for the Capitol, it hit me with crushing force. Peeta never confirmed the fact, but the look in his eyes when I made the guess was enough to suggest I was right.

Bailey also grew up with an abusive mother. Just like Peeta.

The idea was a lot for me to process suddenly. I knew people who looked perfect could hide dark secrets. Peeta and Finnick Odair were both evidence of this. But for some reason I was taken aback by the notion that Bailey, who seemed so lively and pristine and collected, could have come from a violent and vicious household like the Mellark’s.

I mentally berated myself for the shock. How many times had strangers misjudged me in the last couple of years? How much had that infuriated me to find out?

When I go over to Haymitch’s house the following week for dinner, I make considerable effort in preparing myself to see Bailey sitting at the table.

And I’m not disappointed.

Bailey Robyn is sitting in the dining room when I walk in, half her hair gracefully combed into a cascading updo, looking as porcelain and perfect as ever. In her hand is a cookie covered in pink frosting, her mouth pulled up in a sparkling white smile as she laughs at something Haymitch has said.

Evidently Bailey puts my old mentor in a good enough mood, because he gives her a real genuine grin in reply.

Before turning to me with a scowl, of course. “Well, sweetheart, look who decided to join us?”

“I’m on time, Haymitch,” I immediately grumble, eyeing him with aggravation.

“If we give or take twenty minutes.”

But Bailey apparently wants to be my buffer. “Like you’ve ever been on time for anything, Haymitch Abernathy,” she retorts, looking at me knowingly. Like she’s trying to let me in on her joke. Like we’re old friends, who gang up on Haymitch together all the time.

A part of me feels displaced, as this interaction, if I didn’t know better, gives me the idea that I’m the odd one out and Bailey is the aquatinted one in this dynamic. But still, I take a deep breath and smile back in her direction.

I promised Peeta I would try. I promised to give Bailey a chance. And I’m not going to break another promise to him.

Not after everything that’s happened to him because of me.

Before I can find a semi-conversational thing to say back though, more voices join us.

“Katniss!” Delly chirps, rounding the corner from Haymitch’s pigsty living room with Peeta by her side.

“Oh, look who finally showed up,” Peeta says, teasing me.

I have an entirely different reaction to him nudging me versus Haymitch. Instead of getting defensive, I feel myself immediately blush, suddenly a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I got held up in the woods.” My words somehow get choked in with a giggle and Peeta smirks in response.

Luckily for me, Bailey seems to not mind our interaction. Instead she laughs once again. “Held up in the woods by what?” She murmurs curiously.

���Knowing her?” Haymitch mutters, eyeing at me wryly. “Squirrels.”

/

I give the night my best effort. I talk to Bailey, ask her questions—pretend not to notice how elusive her answers are—and plaster a completely fake smile across my face, trying my best to appear as sweet and as pleasant as I am capable of.

However, by the end, I’m so glad Delly is there by my side that, without hesitating to think about it, I invite her to be a permanent member of our weekly dinners. If Peeta can bring Bailey every time—as I suspect he will—I can surely have someone here too. Someone else who is a bit apprehensive about the new addition, someone who doesn’t think I’m just blatantly rude for remaining on my guard.

I expected Haymitch, at least, would be a little unsure about Bailey. I expected he’d be at least slightly cautious of her presence. But instead the opposite seems to be true.

Instead Haymitch almost seems more apprehensive about me being at dinner.

Every time I glance at Peeta too long, every time I cringe—in my mind, internally, but evidently the old, paunchy man notices—when Bailey plants her lips all over Peeta, I feel him kick me in the leg, step on my foot, nudge me roughly as he passes by.

Delly finds the whole thing really funny. She finds Haymitch and my subsequent glares and glances more entertaining than any of the stories Bailey shares about District Nine.

And Delly Cartwright has never been one for subtly. She’s never been one for holding back her emotion either.

What should be her quiet chuckles are loud, snorting giggles and her standard laughs are practically hysterics.

And I find unexpectedly, when mixed with such a tense air, the sound of her boisterous laughter cracks even me up. Even Haymitch smiles a little.

Of course, the fact that this conjures up an image of me and Delly sharing some kind of inside joke is sort of an unexpected gift. I only realize it after the fact, but the idea that it looks like me and Delly are laughing together makes me feel suddenly less alone. Makes me feel suddenly like I belong here again.

Bailey is pleasant enough, I note to myself. She smiles in all the right places when someone else speaks, she manages to softly laugh in all the appropriate spots, she tell us vague details about her home in Nine easily enough.

Apparently she was born and raised on a farm, learned to produce grain from a young age and left her parents’ home at fourteen.

She makes no mention of the abuse Peeta implied but I never expected she would. It takes practically a microscope to uncover it in Peeta’s own tales. And even that’s from my point of view. An outsider who didn’t survive two games and a war with him would be hard-pressed to decipher it at all out of the stories he tells. I anticipated Bailey would be just as allusive.

I did not anticipate however, that Bailey would grow so uncomfortable when asked where she lived after she left her parents’ home. I didn’t expect her to look around the room in an abrupt, stiff silence, that she would stare past the walls of Haymitch’s home with a glassy look in her stone blue eyes, or that she would stand from the table without warning and flee down the hall.

And I’m thankful now that it was Delly who asked the question and not me, as surely my old mentor, who’s nearly smashed by this point, would find a way to cast the blame onto me.

“Did I say something wrong?” Delly asks, genuinely disturbed that she apparently must have hurt Bailey. She may not be her biggest fan, but Delly Cartwright isn’t one to intentionally upset people.

Peeta hesitates for a moment before shaking his head. “No, she’s just... it’s nothing you did, Delly,” he promises but his voice is far away now too, and his gaze flickers towards the hall the blonde disappeared down.

Still, Delly bites her lip in fear she caused an issue and excuses herself from the table in a haste, offering to clean everyone’s dishes.

Neither me nor Peeta—or even Haymitch himself—say not to bother. The house itself is in atrocious condition after the decades of neglect and washing the dishes will only cover the plates in grim and mold instead of food. But it’s not about the actual cleansing of the dishes and we all know it. It’s about avoidance.

Something the three of us know more about than anyone ever should.

I use the given opportunity to catch Peeta’s eye. “What’s going on?” I murmur under my breath, hoping Haymitch wouldn’t insert himself into the conversation for once, that he won’t shut my question down and bark at me for being nosy.

“Bailey just needs a minute,” Peeta states, and I can tell from his tone it’s better not to ask again. Whatever’s going on with his girlfriend has him on edge as well. It seems to me, at least.

The next thirty minutes feel like hours as they pass. No one speaks. Haymitch is almost out cold from his liquor. Peeta refuses to meet my eyes or even so much as tear his gaze from the direction Bailey walked off in. I’m about to tell him to just go after her, when she decides to reappear.

Like magic, she reappears, her face seemingly flawless, her smile as bright and as stunning as before, her poise back again like it never slipped.

“Are you okay?” I ask anyway though, because there’s no use in pretending she didn’t just run off after a harmless comment. Delly obviously wants the answer to the same inquiry or she wouldn’t be currently lingering in the doorframe, afraid to even enter the room.

Still, I receive a pointed glance from Peeta and an outright disgusted look from a barely coherent Haymitch.

I fight my natural instincts that says to justify myself. My natural instincts that tell me they’re being far too defensive over a simple question.

And for what reason? Peeta just met her a few months ago and Haymitch probably wouldn’t be able to tell her apart from half the merchant girls in the district. What is it about Bailey that makes both of them take up their metal armor to protect?

“I’m fine,” she says lightly, and offers a tight, closed-mouth smile that doesn’t come across as real for a second. “Delly, do you need any help in the kitchen?”

“No,” the typically bubbly blonde says almost instantly. There’s a waiver in her voice and I feel a pang of sadness spread across my chest, because Delly is obviously afraid of even being in the same room as Bailey now.

“Okay well, we should be going anyways, Peeta,” she says definitively and tugs on his hand with a bit too much force. If you ask me.

“Me too,” I murmur before mentally kicking myself, realizing that I just boxed myself into a corner, looking like I was playing a game and trying to tag along with them for the walk home.

Well, the entire two minutes it takes to get to each of our respective homes, that is.

Even without the added awkwardness of tagging alongside Peeta and his girlfriend, a part of me—a naive, juvenile part—doesn’t want to watch Bailey enter through Peeta’s front door, doesn’t want to accept the fact that she isn’t just spending the night, that his home is now hers too, as a definitive fact.

Within a matter of days, his home is officially her’s. I already know it must be true. But that doesn’t mean I’m anxious by any stretch of the imagination to have the suspicion confirmed.

Haymitch chuckles darkly though, seemingly at my expense, as he lifts his head from the grimy table. “I see someone’s trying to escape before we can light the candles and start singing.”

I blanch the same moment I feel Peeta’s eyes turn and land on me in shock.

I was hoping everyone had forgotten my birthday somehow.

/

Read The Rest On AO3

[fallout-lou-begas]

A lot of people have accused yjj of being racist, particarily in regards to one of their comics involving Joshua graham, and in general saying that they glorify colonization. I mainly understand the other things they’ve done, but the racism seems inexusable. A lot of people have also been saying that yjj and their followers have harassed people. I want to get both sides of the story on this, so basically I’m asking what the deal with all this is?

Hi, anon. I'll provide my thoughts since you asked politely.

This post is quite long and can be considered an extension of my previous post on the matter.

Besides the infamous and self-admittedly ill-informed chancla comic, for which they've apologized, essentially all of the claims that Yesjejunus is racist stem from their depiction of the Dead Horses and Sorrows relative to their depiction of Joshua Graham and their original character Joan in their fanfic No Light (and to a lesser extent Learnin’ the Blues), which is heavily grounded in the setting of Honest Hearts. I think it's unambiguous that the depiction of vaguely defined "tribals" in Honest Hearts, assembled through a mishmash of disparate signifiers and recycled stereotypes and named like Warrior Cats and completely helpless without Joshua Graham's guidance, is indeed thoroughly racist, even if it was intended to be more nuanced and came from a place of self-admitted ignorance on the part of the developers. What I struggle to understand is that the developers and writers of Honest Hearts—and of Fallout: New Vegas as a whole since the entire game is rife with such mishandled, insufficient depictions of "tribals" with no explicit inclusion at all of any specific Indigenous people or presence—are given miles and miles more sympathy and leeway for their poor handling of these characters in the source material than a fanfic writer is for using the tools and setting that they were given by that source material, including the "lore" and naming conventions of the Dead Horses and Sorrows, to tell a story that means a lot to them personally, inspired by their own deepest fears and experiences with abuse, and ignited by their charismatic yet deeply and blatantly monstrous interpretation of Joshua Graham. Given that it uses the setting of Honest Hearts as a backdrop, there aren't any living characters in Honest Hearts who aren't "tribals" besides Joshua Graham and Daniel, and post-canon, Daniel wouldn’t be there. When Yesjejunus is accused of sidelining the Native characters or relegating them to the background, it's because they're just not writing a fanfic about Follows-Chalk or Waking Cloud as main characters: they're writing a specifically intentioned story about the Courier and Joshua Graham, a story that for better or worse remains faithful to the source material’s depiction of Joshua Graham’s unilateral authority over the tribes in Zion, a baked-in element of Honest Hearts and a critical narrative component of No Light. To accuse Yesjejunus of being racist on this principle in and of itself would be like accusing me of being lesbophobic if I wrote a Dead Money-set fanfic with Father Elijah as the main character instead of Christine. If you want something that centers these other characters then you'd just have to read a different story, or write it yourself.

As a final note, I do think that Yesjejunus is a skilled writer. This thought exists simultaneously with the acknowledgement that like everyone else in fandom, they're writing as a hobby and do not have the oversight of an editor on the work that they produce personally and for free. It's not lost on them that there's things about their story that they could have handled differently or more sensitively, such as the oft-cited example of the death of the pregnant Dead Horse character in No Light, with more forethought or planning at the time—even if they were bound by the constraints of Honest Heart's own setting (such as the dearth of non-tribal characters who could have possibly been in the scene instead) while writing the story. Everyone is free to critique this aspect of the story as much as they are to critique any other aspect, or to be discomforted by the whole thing (given it's a very intentionally uncomfortable story throughout), but the suggestion of so many of these "callouts" that Yesjejunus must have been cackling maniacally about the plight of poor access to medical care among real Indigenous people is a suggestion made entirely in bad faith, and one that I simply don't care to entertain.

As for the point about harassing people: if anyone's only evidence of being "harassed" by a single, specific person is anonymous messages on tumblr dot com, then I don't believe the evidence. If people are accusing Yesjejunus' "supporters" or "associates" of harassing people, then if the accusation is that this harassment is occurring either on Yesjejunus’ behalf or otherwise with their approval, then it is also going to require more evidence than the mere existence of the mean anonymous messages themselves. This goes for the rumor that they have "spies" in fandom Discord servers or whatever, too, which is a rumor that I think has only manifested among its spreaders by either self-appointed individuals speaking on no one's behalf but their own, and by the metaphorical snake eating its own tail in paranoia. Yesjejunus, and I, and all of our mutual friends have been nothing but annoyed at best and horrified at worst by the efforts of some self-appointed individuals to "defend" them with such excess vitriol. Speaking plainly, we generally avoid literally any kind of anonymous or public interaction with anyone who's vocally opposed to us as a rule, specifically to avoid this kind of debacle, and when I say "we" and "us" I'm not referring to some sort of shadowy cabal of conspirators scheming to advance the nefarious YJJ agenda, but to a group of friends. I don't know how to explain to some people who question why we praise their work or share their art sometimes how normal friendships work online.

I also take severe umbrage with the validity of the breadth of these anonymous harassment accusations because of how patently fraudulent several other claims are. Yesjejunus has recently been accused of "grooming,” for example, an accusation only even worth considering if one temporarily forgets what grooming actually is and pretends that grooming is when someone older interacts in literally any capacity with someone younger. Some will say that they’re not accusing them of grooming per se, or not of grooming by that name, but in any case, the meaning is that Yesjejunus has interacted with minors and this on its own is intended to scare and upset you. I have seen only two users actually named as "victims" of these “interactions,’ however, sas-afras and comrade-shrimp, but both users have publicly refuted this accusation because neither of them were minors when they first interacted with Yesjejunus. Frustratingly, though, these literal refutations from the literal so-called "victims" are either dismissed out of hand or muddied by hand-wringing mutterings of "well, I could have sworn they were actually minors, though" and "well they claim that they weren't actually groomed, but who really knows." The spreading and trust in completely anonymous accusations, combined with the total rejection of statements from the only people named in these accusations when their statements contradict the accusations, suggests to me that the existence of these actual interactions (and assuming these interactions occurred both intentionally and with Yesjejunus’ being fully aware of the other person being a minor) is not nearly as important as pushing the narrative that "Yesjejunus is a groomer" or “preying on minors” onto the fandom, and ensuring that anyone who doesn't take this claim completely at face value appears complicit in something horrible. As for anyone who still feels "uncomfortable" at how sas-afras or comrade-shrimp or me or anyone who is very much an adult but just so happens to be younger than Yesjejunus could ever become endeared to them, I reiterate that sometimes I don't know how to explain to people how normal friendships work online.

I want to conclude by saying something that I've said many times before: you don't have to like Yesjejunus (or me, or everybody, or literally anyone else) and no one is holding a gun to your head to befriend them or read their work or look at their art. The block and filter and unfollow buttons are very conveniently located on your dashboard and are totally free to use. Everything I've written here is not intended as some argument as to why everyone on the planet needs to be following their blog and leaving kudos on Learnin' the Blues. Still, while I think everybody has the right to curate their own dashboard and remove the content that they don't want to see, I also think it's reasonable for me to not want my friend to get their name dragged through the mud by the exaggerated and misinformed claims of petty, grudge-bearing brigadiers and self-aggrandizing fandom security guards when they'd like to just dump funny shitposts about the Burned Man's chode in peace.

[coffeestainedcamera]

Random Peacemaker thoughts

Wow, I was not expecting a show about the character I was least invested in while watching the Squad reboot to actually get me to vaguely care about him. I started it on Thursday night with a “One episode and I am out” mindset and ended up bingewatching all three released thus far. Spoilers after cut, you’ve been warned.

This is really channeling the 80′s, for better or worse.

It was not just the 80′s revival band in the opening or the feeling of the one-night stand chase cribbing from slasher flicks, but the fact that Chris is a blatant 80′s artifact, most obviously signaled by the fact that he is an HR nightmare, to put it mildly. Like, a lot of his early behavior towards women is very much in the harassment area and he comes off as racist on more than a few occasions. It clicked once his father was introduced, given that he is significantly more racist and works a lot of homophobia into his insults. He is absolutely the sort to want to time travel back to 50′s because they are the “good ol’ days” in his mind.

Also, Chris’s interest in 80′s hair metal and glam rock is blatantly setting up an interest in at least attempting to break away from his father, as noted in his episode 1 comment about liking the days of “real men playing with makeup” or something along these lines (look, I was watching this after an 11 hour workday, paraphrasing here). Oh, and he has a one-night stand with Vigilante involved, although this is very much in the dubious area of getting with your groupies, although at least he’s not going for teenagers (cough, Bowie, cough).

Vigilante is interesting in a few ways

So, the biggest Peacemaker groupie around, and the only one who would agree with his claims of being a superhero. He is not meant to be a good person, most blatantly shown by that fact early on. And he is in general profoundly immature and operates squarely in the “black-and-white” sort of morality. After all, his introduction establishes that he offs for violent crime and graffiti alike. Totally not intended to comment on american criminal justice system or anything.

At any rate, he is thus partially Peacemaker with none of the character development that he undergoes in the first three episodes, as shown when he was humming a cheery tune before offing what looked like a child in episode 3. Note that this was right after Chris refused to shoot, even though he was told that this would keep a whole lot of people safe. In fact, I feel like the crew will adopt him after this and attempt to ice out Chris, given that his newly-found conscience is ruining their plans.

It also feels like Vigilante is a commentary on toxic stans. After all, he likes Peacemaker, but doesn’t care if he experiences character growth under a new writing direction. Status quo is king for him. He behaves like a teenager when I think he is in his twenties. And he is overall just portrayed as a total loser, working a dead-end job and completely lacking in social graces. Oh, and he has the 80′s nerd glasses, although hipster style is coming back to life, so those might circle back to cool at some point. 

Human connections, I need them.

Well, technically Chris has Eagly, who clearly loves him dearly, but does he have anyone capable of human speech that cares for him? There is Adrian, I suppose, but how much is a hero worshipper of yours worth as a friend that can call you out on bad decisions? Not much. And his crew is blatantly only interested in him for his very specific set of skills, but otherwise hates his guts for various understandable reasons (see: HR nightmare).

In fact, no one involved with the Butterfly business has signs of relationships outside of work. It’s kind of depressing, and Adebayo is getting into this territory, as she is told that she can’t live with her wife anymore due to security issues, although it’s nice that they are trying to make long-distance work. I still feel like this will end in a divorce, though.

And I suppose that this is the road to the one-night stand with a rando and a fanboy he previously couldn’t stand. From Chris’s perspective, they at least seemed to vaguely care about him, if just then.

Conclusion

This got a bit over-long, but I can’t be bothered to edit. In short, I’m surprised that an R-rated comedy I only put on bc I wanted something unchallenging after a long workday had something worth writing about. And I’ll stick around, probably.

[gpt-and-dbb]

Welcome To Our Blog!

Allow us to introduce ourselves!

Timothy

Hey, there! I’m Tim, and I’ll be the Master of Arms at your service. I, uh... Blow things up. It’s my job. I’m good at it. I also play a little guitar, I sing, and I am the father of cats everywhere. My gender is the blue slime with the purple sparklies in it. He/fae pronouns, please. 

Truth be told, I have no idea when or where the hell we are. My boyfriend and I got left on this planet to chill for a bit while the rest of the crew went to rob some space bank or whatever. Bastards. I wanted to go, too. At least they let me keep one of the kittens.

...Is there something you wanted? Please go ask my boyfriend about themself, too much attention makes me nervous-

~ GPT

Brian

Hello! I’m Brian. Pilot of the starship Aurora, at your service. You see, occasionally she cares to listen to me. After all, I'm the only one who bothers to ask nicely. Was there something you needed?

Oh! An introduction- Ah, well. I play the drums, and a bit of banjo. Been known to sing, every now and then. Proud user of they/them and he/him. I fancied myself a bit of a gardener, once- Hm, but that’s the past. If there’s anything you need, be sure to ask.

Though— Have you seen my boyfriend Tim anywhere? While I understand that the others might’ve split up to go rob a bank, and I’m beginning to suspect left us here in case they’d gotten jailed, I do so dearly wish to explore this planet with him.

Ah- I seem to have found him. He looks awful cozy there, with his kitten... He always was fond of the lot, no matter how acid-spitty and chatty they got.

~ DBB

Rules

I. We have the right to ignore any ask we want to. Because of this, we would appreciate if you didn’t say things like “you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to,” “sorry to bother you,” etc. Treat yourself with some respect while you’re here, you deserve it! Any self-degradation will be deleted. This is a safe space.

II. Please be specific with who your ask is directed towards! It can be Tim, Brian, or both, but please do make it clear. The mods are nd and have a hard time with these things. Tone tags would also be greatly appreciated, though they aren’t necessary.

III. There is a vague-ish story that the responses from this blog will eventually begin to piece together after time. Please do not try and pry details out of us. Where it’s going is up to our discretion.

IV. This blog is PG-13. Profanity and violence will be used and mentioned. Flirtation will most likely occur. Please do not ask or submit anything that is blatantly and heavily suggestive.

V. Please mention none of the following: house fires, drugs, abuse, or child death. They are either triggers or huge squicks for the mods of this account, and any asks mentioning such will be deleted. If done intentionally as harassment, the blog will be blocked. Thank you.

~ DBB & GPT

Sidenotes!

- We accept fanart!

- The mods actually are in a relationship, and have been for quite some time!

- We’ll probably also reblog GPT and DBB related content to this blog, even if it’s not related to an ask.

- We will tag for: Angst, Blood TW, Death TW, Unreality, and anything else you request to be tagged! We want this blog to be a positive experience for everyone who wants to appreciate it.

- This is a safe space for: The LGBTQIA+ community, Polyamory, DID systems, Neurodivegency, Witches, Pagans, Age Regressors, Gender Equality Activists (for ALL genders), Black Lives Matter

- DNI: Pedophiles, Racists, Radfems, TERFs, Truscum, Ableists, LGBTQIAphobes, Age Regression Fetishists, NSFW accounts, Nazis, Anti-Semitists