#and the games gave him no personality outside of 'i love my dad'

[southparktexts]

Enemies to lovers with the main four?

i love this concept so much anon !! thank you !!!

Enemies to lovers w/ main four

Kyle :

- i know damn well you guys became enemies because of grades.

- academic award fights.

- this literally all happened because you two wrote on the same topic but you had one mark more than kyle.

- gave you the biggest side eye

“I can’t believe that THEY out of all people got 100! i got 99 why couldn’t i just get a 100, it was the same topic!”

“…dude. y/n is kinda smart its not that surprising.”

- he complains about you whenever you ‘beat’ him with grades

- you dont even know he got beef with you tbh 😭

- you guys didnt even talk at all, you were just in the same class as him unironically.

- one day, you got paired up with him for a history presentation

- he literally rolled his eyes when he heard that and had a mood when you talked to him.

“so.. ill to information and research and you can summarise my points?”

“yeah. whatever. i don’t care.”

- eventually, after days of the two of you guys doing the project he realised you weren’t that bad of a person.

- i can see, after you guys did your presentation he would ask to be your partner more and you happily accepted

- one day, after having kyle over to do another assignment the two of you went to mcdonald’s together.

- that was probably the first time he talked to you, outside of school work.

- he definitely caught feels for you

- unironically invited you to game night with the main 4

“..dude i thought you hated her.”

“….shes not that bad.”

“I TOLD YOU THAT??”

- definitely got jealous when kenny tried flirting with you.

- after that he unironically got more touchy with you.

- holding hands when you guys hung out after studying maths together.

- one day he asked his dad for advice and he said just to ask you out.

- he did… on text.

- my guy wrote a whole essay on you.

Eric :

- you guys definitely became prank wars enemies. full stop.

- prank wars.

- this definitely started because eric thought it would be funny to put a whopee cushion on your seat

- you saw it before you sat down and he got so fucking pissed.

“WHO DOES THIS BITCH THINK THEY ARE? NOT EVEN SITTING DOWN ON IT. WHAT THE FUCK.”

“fatass it isn’t that personal.”

- from there you and him back to back prank each other.

- ..they got worse as they progressed.

- he put a lot of laxatives and arbys sauce into your lunch once

- in return you put a lot of melatonin into his milk and made him sleep during an exam.

- yall are both fucked up like that 😭

- definitely spends a lot of time thinking how he can prank you and you do the same.

- you’re the only thing on his mind at this point.

“i fucking hate how that BITCH is always one step ahead of me.”

“you gotta admit.. theyre kinda hot..”

“NO KENNY. NO.”

“cartman you talk about them a little too much, its like you like them or something.”

“WHAT?! NO. CMON GUYS.”

“..sure fatass.”

- after stan said that he started questioning his feelings towards you.

- he kinda realised you both are kinda similar in your own fucked up way.

- after that day he made a glitter bomb card with a note inside telling you to meet him at his house.

- you arrived and you guys actually worked out well..

- gradually eric started introducing kenny into the group.

- the three of you started planning pranks on the teacher.

- eventually eric started falling. hard.

- you were always so funny and unique with pranks and he loved that.

- eventually asked you out with a cupcake.

“will you go out with me?”

“hm? yeah sure. ..this cupcake doesn’t have arbys sauce and laxatives in it, does it..?”

Kenny :

- to be honest time !! i personally think you guys wouldn’t be enemies.

- more just mutual annoyance.

- i feel like hes not the type to personally hate someone.

- the only reason he would find you annoying is because you would take the girls when he was trying to flirt with them.

“hey doll.”

“you’re talking to me?”

“oh tammy !! exactly who i was looking for!”

- he gets so annoyed because each time he was trying to talk to them you’d interrupt and drag them away to talk to them.

- one day he was fed up with it but didn’t do anything about it.

“how come y/n knows literally every girl i try to flirt with?!”

“because dude, y/n is cool and popular. their going to know everyone dude.”

“yeah bro.”

“plus they hang around the girls as well”

- after that, you kinda stopped hanging around the girls since they were doing a whole protest about something that you didnt want to be involved with.

- kenny eventually just say you walking around the school, just being yourself.

- he oddly, like it. he liked seeing you act like yourself. not pretend like you did with the girls.

- eventually he invited you to game night with the boys.

- you guys played dnd and had fun!

- after that, kenny would invite you to game night more and you eventually unironically replaced butters.

- you and kenny slowly became close friends and he became more possessive over you.

- one day he had enough of these thoughts about you and just asked you out out of the blue.

“hey y/n! doll!”

“hm? oh hey ken.”

“wanna date?”

“uh sure?”

Stan :

- if im going to be honest.. he doesn’t get enemies, except for craig.

- he definitely gets angry but doesn’t hate you.

- he probably got jealous because of you though, that what ticked him off.

- this is probably right after stan and wendy broke up

- you were wendy’s friend but also being stans.

- he once saw you comforting wendy and he got jealous.

“that backstabbing bitch! y/n is with wendy right now.”

“..dude i thought you said you were over wendy.”

“i- i am but still!”

- complained about you to the boys, slowly he would have something against you.

- since you were also friends with him he would give you a moody response when he replied back.

“how are you holding up, stan?”

“fine. just fine. its not like you care.”

- became more cold and colder.

“god look at y/n over there. at the swings with wendy.”

“dude, why are you looking at y/n so much. do you like them or something.”

“what?? no?”

- he kept looking over at you and he slowly started noticed little details of you.

- how you bite your nails when your shy, how pretty you look when your studyin.. wait.. what..

- slowly started noticing more details about you and since you were friends with him he would hang out with you more.

- became more touchy while you hang out.

- he realised now you were just being nice to both sides. trying to be there for both.

- wrapping his arms around your waist while you two walked together.

- blushing as you talk to him.

- eventually he bottles up all his feels about you and breaks down but in a good way?

- going to your house at 3am, crying as you hold him in your arms on your bed.

“and- and my dad keeps putting all this pressure and me and i love you and its so fucking difficult.”

“i know stan, i know… its alright.. wait. you love me..?”

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Chapter 6 part 2/2

Masterpost

‘Ouch,’ Tim thought gleefully as Bruce got his constipated expression. Damian was definitely pretending he thought it was admirable to frighten hapless Justice League niceguys. Damian knew better now. Damian even liked Jon Kent, who was basically like a tiny Captain Marvel.

Bruce really should know that. Tim could see the calculations whirring in his mind, weighing the odds of Damian being genuine.

He knew that Damian was a lot better now. That Damian had promised not to stab anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. That Damian had made friends and was less hostile to outsiders.

Bruce wasn’t confident enough that Damian knew better. He gave in. “I will be careful with my tone around him,” Bruce said sullenly. He stabbed at his breakfast.

‘You just got played by a ten year old.’

“Thank you Daddy,” Cass chirped.

Ah well, that’s it then. Game, set, and match. Bruce lifted his face enough to aim his watery i love my kids eyes at her.

Tim left the table without comment. He quietly thanked Alfred on his way out and gave a nod to Cass. Bruce was still glaring at his eggs. He’d be at it for a while, churning through the current state of his children’s social development and the relative healthiness of his personal relationships with Justice League coworkers.

‘I wonder why Cass cares about Marvel,’ Tim wondered idly. He didn’t have the slightest hint of doubt in her assertion. If Cass said that Bruce was too harsh for Marvel, then it was true. Marvel must be sensitive. But that didn’t mean Cass would interfere to protect a grown man from her dad’s growly temper. Maybe she had a crush? Marvel was pretty good-looking, if you were sick enough to be into hunky men with perfect teeth who were never rude to anyone and appeared to have no dark past. Sort of like crushing on that one cartoon surfer in the juice ads…

It was a minor puzzle piece that Tim tucked away for another time. 

He hung out in his room until it was time to get ready. Then Tim jogged down the stairs to the Batcave, humming under his breath.

Jason of all the people was already there, scowling at the screen. 

“Why are you up?” Tim asked. Didn’t he usually, sleep off half the day after a long patrol? Jason had been on the long shift last night.

Tim got a massively shitty expression from Jason  in return. “Patrol ended hours ago, dipstick. I’ve already slept.”

‘Those under eye circles say otherwise,’ Tim thought judgmentally. But he just shrugged. “Fair enough.” He breezed past to open up his equipment locker. 

“What are you doing?” Jason spun his chair around to watch. “Are you meeting Cass?”

Tim blinked. “No?” He unhooked his undersuit and pulled his t-shirt off over his head. He went to toss it in and then thought better of it. Tim conscientiously folded it so that there were no asshole comments from the peanut gallery. “Why do you ask?”

Jason thumbed at the cameras. “Because she’s leaving. Just got her green jacket from the living room.” He jutted his lower lip out. “I don’t know of anything on her schedule today.”

Huh. Tim stopped mid-motion. “There wasn’t anything on the master calendar,” he said slowly. He gave Jason a sideways look. “What are the odds of you following her?”

Jason looked tempted. “She’ll be mad if she notices me.”

“Yeah,” Tim agreed. It was just the truth. “But she’ll know you’re doing it because you’re worried about it, so she can’t get too mad. She got electrocuted yesterday. I’m not really sure she should be out unsupervised.”

Jason’s whole face twitched. “Yeah.”

‘Ah,’ Tim realized. ‘He already read her report. That’s probably why he came in.’

“You’re going to Amity.” Jason said it like it was an order, not a question. Tim nodded anyway and shucked his sweatpants. He started pulling on the sweat-wicking undersuit. “Yeah, alright.” Jason stood up with a scrape of the chair. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“You’re the best there’s ever been,” Tim lied earnestly. “I really appreciate it. I know that everyone else would say-”

“You’re a dick,” Jason said, and left the batcave quickly before Tim could say anything else nice to him.

Tim felt a lot better about leaving Gotham after that conversation. Jason was a huge angry clucking mother hen. He wouldn’t let anything happen to Cass. And Tim could be useful at the source of the problem without his attention split in worrying.

He clicked on his comms and switched to the YJ frequency. “Red Robin is on.”

The line clicked. “Wondergirl is here,” Cassie said happily. “You’re welcome, peons. I’m in the air already.”

“We’ll owe you forever, princess,” Kon snarked. “When can we kiss your boots?”

“You can kiss my a-”

“No chatter on the comms.” Tim typed up the mission start and sent it to the right file, marking that he was taking the jet. “I’ll see you in Amity.”

[nectardaddy]

OH CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN. . . single dad! meian + f!reader

✮⋆˙ notes/CWs - brief mention of parental death, heavy underlying emotions, meian's a flirt when he wants to be, typos probably

It was all too early for the man that morning, the sun barely even breaking the horizon when his alarm went off. He rubbed at tired eyes the whole morning, fighting off the urge to do nothing more than get back in bed. But he couldn't do that, even if he had the chance - he had more than just himself to take care of. 

His daughter, Himawari, always, without fail, fought him on waking up; and now that it was earlier than normal, it was a complete lost cause. She fought against waking up, fought against getting ready, and fought against going outside because she refused to wear a jacket. But the chill outside turned her off to the idea of going to school all together. Stubborn, and moody from the change of schedule, he had to all but drag her to get in the car - she fought against that too.

They had to get to her school earlier than normal, his schedule clashed with all other times to meet with her teacher - a prerequisite, of sorts, to meet all new families at the beginning of the year - and he finally bit the bullet and asked for a time before school. Thank god her teacher agreed; despite the coaxing and near begging the man had to do to get his daughter in the building to begin with. 

She walked beside him, arms crossed over her chest with a scowl; a rather adorable sight at how small she was and the Hello Kitty bookbag she adorned. (But Meian told anyone who would listen to not let her fool them, she was as devilish as they came.) He shortened his strides whenever he walked with his daughter, he was tall enough that one stride was about three of hers; so he opted for picking her up with a groan. “Come here, you're killing me.” 

She fought against being picked up as well, “put me down!” A loud whine that nearly echoed in the empty hallway, “I don't wanna’ be held right now!” He only sighed as she squirmed against him, but eventually gave up once she realized she was no match. 

“It's not my fault you walk slow,” he groaned, but the smallest of smiles peaked at his lips once he cut his eyes over to her. She pouted, huffed, and did anything she could to make him feel bad; but it didn't work. 

“Maybe you just walk too fast.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Hima.” 

The hallway was long, almost liminal as the doors seemed to never end. Each decorated, or not, which showed the personality of who occupied it. The school was basically empty, besides the few staff members who got to work early on their own free will, and quiet. Quiet enough to hear the small sigh of defeat from his daughter, and she now rested her head on his shoulder. “Dad, I'm tired.” 

“I know.” Good god did he know. “Maybe if you went to bed on time you wouldn't be so sleepy.” 

“But I can't sleep when you're not there,” she sighed again. He felt his heart drop at her words, even though he knew them all too well. Every babysitter he ever had loved the girl, but every single one had never gotten her to fall asleep. The girl refused every time; and if she didn't, she laid in bed until she heard the front door open and shut, and the familiar voice of her father. She would drive herself to sleep deprivation all because Meian wasn't there. “I miss you too much to go to sleep.” 

“I know,” he repeated, much more softly than the latter. Filled with care, and hinted with regret, though he knew he had no other choice but to not be home. Games were important, not like the stray practices he would miss here and there; and the games that were later in the day he unfortunately couldn't bring her to. “I miss you too.” There was a small moment of silence, not knowing what to say as he felt his daughter fidget with the sleeve of his shirt.

The man prided himself with his encouragement skills and wise words, but more often than not he couldn't find them for himself. There was a missing piece to his mind it seemed, gaping and dreary as he wished nothing more than to be a good father - but to him, he always fell short. There were times he wasn't home, important events like school plays and concerts missed from commitments to his team, he couldn't help her with her homework as he wasn't home when she got back because of practice, and the period of time away for nationals felt like a stake through the heart every time it rolled around. 

An optimist with others, but a pessimist with himself. Always falling just shy of what he thought a good parent should be and what a good parent should do. It was utterly exhausting.

Despite his aching heart and rattling mind, he gave her a small smile and desperately tried to change the subject - more for himself rather than her. “Why don't you tell me about your teacher?” 

He heard the girl hum before she lifted her head to look at him with tired eyes. “I think you'll like her,” a tone that finally seemed to melt away the prior attitude. “She's really nice, not like my teacher last year, and she makes crafts with us.” She smiled, the first time that entire morning, “yesterday we read about bunnies and we made plates that looked like bunnies.”

“I know, you brought it home.” He smiled at the reminiscent thought; he came home just after she did, and she all but knocked him down running to show him the plate with construction paper and pom poms glued to it. “I'm actually pretty jealous, ‘sounds fun making bunny plates.” He chuckled, “you think the guys would want to make them?” Hima was well aware of the team he played for, moreover his teammates. She often saw them at the handful of practices and games that he took her to, but more so knew of them through the stories he shared.

She laughed at his question, and he took a silent sigh of relief. “Mr. Hinata might,” she giggled, “but I know Mr. Bokuto would!” The child picked favorites, most definitely; however, her favorite, out of all of them, was Sakusa - and he still had no unearthly reason why other than the dry humor he offered. Every practice he ever brought her to was always met with Hima hanging off of the man, annoying him, and pressing every button Sakusa had - and Meian let her, a silent act of revenge for the consistent arguments he started with Atsumu.

“You're right, he would.” Bokuto was just as childish as she, if not more - he would probably beg the man to make one if given the chance. “Do you want to show him yours later today?” While he didn't plan to take the girl to practice, the sentiment of longing still lingered in the back of his mind; twisted and turned until he felt sick. The awful feeling of thinking he spent too much time away from her returned; and he hoped bringing her with him might mend how he felt, and maybe make her tired enough she would, for once, go to sleep on time. 

“Really?” She asked excitedly. The girl cheered just before continuing on with her child like rambles. Himawari could go on for hours, days really, if he let her (which he more often than not did). She enjoyed talking about just about anything, and would find side story after side story as she went on through her rants. But the man never minded, he found it endearing that the girl had picked up his outgoing attitude. 

He smiled as she continued on, rounding a corner to the hallway that her classroom was on. The school was quite big, a primary school that housed kindergarten through sixth, so every grade level was split into smaller hallways. The man surprised himself that he could remember where to go, as the only other time he went was when she was in first grade. 

“She's really pretty, y'know?” Meian cut his eyes towards the girl, still holding her within his arms, and scrunched his brows.

“Who?” The word laced with confusion as his daughter only giggled again.

“My teacher.” He couldn't help but let a small breath pass his lips, and fought against rolling his eyes entirely. Himawari was prone to talking up the people within her life; which was an admirable trait to have, he was happy the girl wasn't a bully. But she was apt to make the older women around her larger than life - to play matchmaker. The girl couldn't remember her birth mother, she had passed when she was only a year old, but Meian made it a point to consistently remind the girl of her. Consistently reminded her, and himself, they were never abandoned. 

That never stopped Hima from yearning for another woman's presence though. Didn't stop her from the small smiles she would give her father when talking about women much older than she, his age, with an err of playfulness that made him roll his eyes. So to her latter statement he only hummed, “and what do you say about me then, huh?” 

“That you're old.” 

“Ouch-” he rolled his eyes at her nonchalant attitude, “I'm not even that old, Hima.”

“Yeah, ok.” Her sarcastic tone made him sigh, and he thought to himself that maybe he allowed her to hang about Sakusa all too much - his blunt choice of words rubbed off on her in ways he couldn’t imagine. Never rude, but curt replies that never failed to make him groan. But he kept his mouth shut on the topic as he continued walking, and thanked the stars he was almost to his destination. 

“Put me down, put me down!” The girl began to squirm in his arms, desperately trying to escape him to go to her teacher’s room that finally came within their view. The man quickly caved, picking his battles wisely with his daughter’s already flighty mood, and figured it wasn’t all that bad for her to be excited for school - quite the opposite really. 

He watched as his daughter ran through the doorway of the open classroom, and heard a cheery voice greet her from the other side. The voice was light and airy, joy mingling amongst syllables with every word spoken. There was an intent behind it that felt sound, secure - a voice that most definitely belonged to a second grade teacher. 

“Dad said I can bring my bunny plate to his practice and show his friends!” 

“Really? That's so cool, I bet they'll love it.” A small smile peaked on his lips at the woman’s words; although he couldn’t see it just yet, he could practically hear the smile she wore. “Did you get to show your dad yet?” 

Yet. 

The word alone made his steps slow just before he reached the door, letting his pace taper off before completely stopping and he let out a silent breath. It was her job to care, to provide comfort and joy, to create a sense of security and structure - but Himawara had no structure in her life. And it was all his fault, or so he thought. The girl, frankly, never knew her father’s schedule, as it always dialed and changed according to the needs of the team. He desperately tried, at any given opportunity, to cling to time with her - and while he cherished every second, it was never enough. 

He couldn’t help her as much as he liked with homework - yet. He couldn’t pick her up from school most days - yet. And he couldn’t find it within the chasms of his mind to give himself grace - yet. 

“I did! He put it on the fridge!” He wished he could be more like his daughter - happy and unknowing in the reality of real life. A childlike sense of certainty that everything was fine, that one could find joy in everything if they looked hard enough, and an unwavering belief that her father did everything under the sun for her. He couldn’t help but smile softly at the thought, and allowed the burden of ‘yet’ to pass him. 

“Now that's where real masterpieces go,” she mused. “Did you tell him the book we read?” 

“Not the title at least,” he chuckled as he rounded the doorway. “Everything else about it? Absolutely. I could probably quote it to you at this point.” A joke that landed fairly well, as he heard the woman laugh in response, but the comedic energy the man once held was quickly replaced with awe as he leaned against the doorway.

Himawari was wrong, utterly wrong. Her teacher wasn't pretty - she was beautiful.

He felt his stomach lurch to his throat, a brief sensation but one that made him cough. The realization that the woman was his daughter's teacher made him feel rather small, stupid even, and wildly out of his element. He woke up that morning and simply got ready for practice - a slam packed schedule as the practice started just after this meeting would be over - and now he deeply regretted it. 

“‘Morning, Mr. Meian.” He felt like a puddle of the man he once was only seconds ago, before she said his name. A subtle code switch that he picked up on from her - a voice for talking to children, and a voice for adults. He felt his mind go blank and nearly asked her to talk to him as if he were a child, maybe then he wouldn't have been so enamored. 

He couldn't help but linger in the doorway to the classroom, the exposed skin of his arm leaning against the cool wood of the frame. Hands shoved into the pockets of track pants as he watched the woman retrieve papers from her desk. Only then did she meet his eyes and his breath hitched in his throat. She paused for a fraction of a second, her pace stuttering just before forcing her eyes to the ground and continuing on. 

This was terrible. 

“You can come in,” her voice was softer in comparison to her latter statement, nervous even. It made him second guess why he was here in the first place, despite the flicker of his daughter playing with a puzzle on the floor nearby.

“How are you?” He asked, trying to fight against the heat that wanted to surge to his face. He felt silly making small talk, the man always fell flat on his face when it came to it, but felt even sillier if he had said nothing at all. 

“Tired,” she spoke through a chuckle, and he could tell. Behind a, semi, forced smile was tired eyes and a look of exhaustion. It was only Wednesday, and he suddenly felt bad for making the meeting in the first place. “But I'm here. How about yourself?” 

“About the same as you,” he smiled. “Sorry again for wanting this meeting so early, it's the only time that worked.” An apology didn’t seem like it should be enough now that he looked at the woman. Albite pretty, she looked weary, burnt out, and he sensed a twinge of discontent - like she didn’t want to be there in the first place. Groveling may have been a better thing to do, but it wasn’t as if he had a choice in the time he chose. He exhausted all other options from a meticulous schedule that was downright impossible to change.

“Don't worry about it,” she shrugged, “I'm just glad you didn't want it way after school.” 

“Feels like a crime to make you stay that long.” 

“It should be.” She met his eyes again and smiled, one that seemed genuine rather than forced this time. And he watched her eyes flicker to the other side of the room after a moment. “We can sit back there,” she motioned towards a semi circle table in the back of the room. “It's a little cluttered, but it's better than sitting at a desk made for a second grader.” The table didn't seem cluttered in the slightest; occupied with stacks of papers and different containers, each having a different color that he only guessed was for ease of organization. 

She sat down, he followed, and began shifting the papers and containers over, now lining the edges with organized chaos than the latter neat piles. “Sorry,” she chuckled. “They come back here to work with me, so keeping everything neat is almost unheard-of.” 

He let a laugh pass his lips just before he cut his eyes to his daughter, then promptly returned his gaze to her. “Trust me, I know. She'll pull out everything and decide she doesn't even want to play anymore.” 

He felt his heart squeeze when she laughed in response, it was a laugh he could easily get used to, a laugh he wanted to hear more often than just at school. It was gentle, lighthearted, and voluntary - it didn’t feel like a laugh she had to force, as he suspected she did often. His mind kept circling back to the sound as she spoke; he didn’t even realize she had formally started the meeting just minutes ago. His thoughts were the furthest from where they should have been, as he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of her. 

Dazed, seemingly on cloud nine, he didn’t register that she spoke of grades, behavior, and reading level. He simply nodded along as he tried to memorize every detail of the woman in front of him: her eyes were dark and tired, she had smile lines on the sides of her lips, of which he guessed were from years of doing nothing but, her clothes were casual but nice despite the knowledge that children were frankly disgusting, and the side of her dominant hand was stained with multicolored marker, which he only imagined was the set up of a craft for later today. 

“Do you have any questions?” The sentiment jerked him back to the present, and his fuzzy mind cleared quickly once he realized he didn’t register a single thing she spoke about. “Anything you want to add, maybe?”

“When's the next time you're doing these meetings?” The only query that made headway in his mind left his lips at the same time; speaking without thinking, and noticing too late what managed to tumble from his tongue. 

“Conferences?” There was a sense of confusion riddled in her voice; if he were listening, he would have known that his daughter was doing just fine - excelling even. 

“Yeah,” he nodded. And despite his better judgment, he doubled down on the sentiment entirely. “When's the next time I can talk to you?” He watched the woman’s eyes widen, and for a moment he felt like an idiot until he noticed a barely there, bitten back smile. 

“You could always email me?” It was a subtle change in conversation, but one that both picked up on quickly. He was convinced the woman was trying to make his heart stop when she locked eyes with him, a cheekiness to the once serious discussion now diminished. “I respond pretty quickly actually.”

“Do you, now?” He leaned forward slightly, enough to rest his elbows against the table. At first the distance between the two was vast, professional, but he closed the door to professionality and locked it when he leaned in closer to her. She bit the inside of her cheek, still fighting the smile that desperately wanted to bloom on her lips. “That's good to know. But, I feel like I get a million emails every day. I'd never live it down if I missed one from you.” 

“Things happen,” she shrugged with a gentle chuckle. “Did you have a better alternative though?” It was then he realized she wasn’t talking to him like a teacher anymore; instead, the tone had shifted again. This was actually her - not a teacher, not a professional - her. A coy change in the color of her voice that made his heart do flips, but played upon regardless. 

“Getting your number was one.” 

The battle between her and her ever growing smile ultimately ended in defeat at his proposition. Her lips pulled upward in an inviting smile and she cast her eyes to the table, a sheepishness washing over her at the man’s boldness - but she couldn’t deny that she liked it. “It's not every day I give a parent my personal number.” 

“We don't need to talk about school.”

“Then what exactly would we talk about?” 

“If you're free this weekend, or any weekend really?” The question left his lips with ease, despite the nerves that overflowed him when he first entered. He saw her eyes flicker back up to meet his own, catching his gaze once more, to which his heart hammered in his chest. 

“What did you have in mind, Mr. Meian?” 

“We don't have to decide that now,” a cheeky reply as he flashed her a smile. “We have until Saturday to figure that out.”

“I guess we do.” She looked down again, biting at the inside of her cheek, before reaching next to her at a stack of sticky notes. “You better not use this to ask me questions about second grade math,” she teased as she wrote the number down. Her handwriting was pretty and neat, a whimsy to it that matched her job to a tee. Once done, she took it off the stack and handed it to him, their fingers briefly touching as he took it from her. There was a pause when their fingers met; her fingers were cold against his own and it sent a shockwave through him. He could die happy if he was able to feel that again. 

“That sucks. Because I've been really struggling with adding and subtracting.” He broke the brief silence with a boldness, one that looked all too good on him, and he smiled again. She rolled her eyes and laughed at his statement, “I’ll text you later today.”

“I hope you do.”

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@wyrcan @honeekyuu @wakashudou @wolffmaiden @eggyrocks 

@yogurtkags @bakery-anon @totallytatum @mollyrolls @aozui 

@jadeoru @hyunteru @kameyyy @nekozaki @sandwhitches

@knightofwands-upright

[camilyscove]

LONG AWAITED . POPE HEYWARD ꩜

trope : best friends to lovers

genre : fluff , a little angst .

summary : you and pope are best friends, however when he finally expresses his feelings for you, you’re ready to be more than that.

YOU COULD NEVER GET OVER just how much you really needed pope in your life.

you couldn't count with your fingers how many times he had been there for you, gotten in trouble with his dad because he always ran off with you rather than doing his chores. and you loved him for that.

when you two were kids, you guys were the ultimate duo. you were outside, running around on the playground until you got into a heated argument with some other kid. it ended with you pushing them down the slide, causing the tears to flow and one of the teachers making you sit inside.

you huffed and complained as the teacher told you that the rest of your recess time would be spent in the isolated library. you rolled your eyes when she turned her back, putting up your pinky-finger at her while sticking out your tongue.

you, being a bright extrovert that never knew when to shut her mouth, couldn't help but notice the only other person in the empty library without speaking to him. he was peering at you from above his book, curious and a little surprised.

your eyes widened, and you quickly slid down into the seat next to him. "don't tell her I did that. I'm already in big trouble," you whispered into his ear. he moved away, a weird look on his face.

"you do know that the whole 'chinese middle finger' hoax, isn't real, right?"

your face was blank. "huh?"

"putting up your pinky finger isn't an alternative for the middle finger."

"does that mean you're gonna snitch?" you questioned, squinting at him. he sighed, shaking his head.

"thanks. I hate that teacher. she's always on my cheeks."

"your.. cheeks?"

"it's an alt— alter—“

"alternative?"

"yeah, that, for," you leaned in closer, glancing around to make sure nobody else was there, and even though there wasn’t, you lowered your voice, “ass."

pope stared at you. he had never heard anyone— especially a girl— say that, except his dad, and that was a one-time thing. you giggled, a mischievous smile on your lit-up face.

"anywayyyyy," you said in a sing-song voice, "whatcha' doin' in here?"

"reading and studying."

"why?"

he knitted his eyebrows together, tilting his head to the side a bit. "because i have a pop-quiz."

"i thought pop quiz means you don't know about it."

"yeah, it does."

"then how come you know?"

"because I'm smart. duh," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. you scoffed, "I'm smart, too. and I didn't know about it."

pope gave you a nasty look before going back to his book. you sighed, spinning his pen between your fingers and observing the library you were in. it had that dewey smell of old books, and the ceiling was high. you could see the playground from the tall windows, and you longed to be out there, joining games of telephone and freeze-tag. however you had no ounce of self-control, at least not enough to take some random kid’s bullshit.

you figured this boy went to library everyday during recess, considering you had never seen him on the black-top, in the fields playing dodge-ball, or on the playground. and that's what every normal kid did.

"hey," you mumbled, poking his arm with the pen. he hummed softly, paying no attention to you. you spoke up, anyway. "are you an alien?"

his eyes slowly trailed up your face before they landed on your own. he didn't respond, instead just staring at you as if you were the weirdest, most stupid person he had ever came in contact with.

"what's your name, alien?"

"pope. and I'm not an alien."

"that 'kinda sounds like an alien name, pope."

"it's really not."

after a short moment of silence, you smiled.

"hey, you're actually pretty cool. I'm not 'tryna be mean. just curious. I've never seen you outside with everyone else, but if you ever do, you can always play with me."

he didn't answer, instead deciding to turn away from you, but nobody could miss the faint smile that played on his lips.

pope chose to ignore you for the next twenty-five minutes of recess, tuning out your constant rambling about literally anything that popped up on your mind. even though he barely paid attention to what you were saying, he quickly learned that you truly had no filter. but he liked it. so for the next week, you had purposely gotten in trouble to talk to him in the library, your smile becoming the highlight of his day. (even though he'd never admit that.)

you started waving at him in the hallways, inviting him to sit next to you at lunch with your friends. you even began to read a book he was, just so you guys could be ‘twinsies.'

and soon enough, he was welcomed into the friend group that consisted of jj maybank, kiara carrera, and john b routeledge.

and now, you were sitting on the hammock outside of the château, pope right next to you. your head was buried in the crook of his neck, and he softly played with your hair.

the sunset was gorgeous. you and pope spent the day boating and swimming, watching tv and eating snacks on the couch of your home before going back to the château. all the pogues were there; john b and jj and kie and sarah. they were drinking out of beer-bottles and laughing while they got high on some weed jj stole. while you’d usually join them, you wanted to just relax in the arms of your best friend.

it felt perfect, the gentle touch of pope’s fingertips brushing against your hair, while you breathed in his scent of sea-salt and faded cologne.

“hey, y/n?” pope said, his voice soft. you opened your eyes, humming in reply, to show you were listening.

“remember when i told you about me and kie?”

you nodded. he was talking about how he kissed kie.

it hurt, when you he told you.

you remember how all the hope you had of possibly becoming more than just best friends with pope had all but vanished. his words felt like being punched in the gut. the rejection stung, you became bitter. you began to wonder if anyone would ever see you more than just a friend.

it hit you then, when he told you in the dead of night that he kissed kie, that you didn’t just like pope. you didn’t just have a small crush on him. you were in love with pope. you’d defend him when he wasn’t around, you would laugh with him and go through crazy shit with him. the features of his face were carved into your mind, impossible to forget. when you made him smile or laugh, you felt proud. you were making him happy, not kie. not any other girl.

you.

so why couldn’t he choose you?

because he was your best friend. and he saw you as just that.

it might’ve been a greedy thought, but you just wanted more.

“i don’t like her that way.”

you blinked, shifting underneath his arm to look up at him. you tried to meet his eyes, but he was clearly avoiding eye-contact. you figured he was lying.

“oh,” you replied, and you hoped the uncertainty in your voice didn’t show.

it was quiet for a moment, and you tried not to let it bother you.

“i don’t think i ever liked her that way.”

his words hung in the air, and you couldn’t help but not believe him. you sighed softly, biting down on your bottom lip, trying not to remind him of how he’d get that look on his face when he saw kie; like he was in an unbreakable trance.

“you know, that, right, y/n?” he asked, his voice barely audible. there was a slight tremble in his voice, and you feared it was your fault,

“yes, pope.”

“i don’t believe you.”

“okay, well, i’m not buying it. are you seriously telling me that the whole ‘i’m in love with kie’ thing wasn’t real? that you never liked her?”

“yes? i was just.. i always thought no girl would want to be with me. so kie was different. i never—“

“okay, pope. i believe you, alright?” you scoffed, sitting up in the hammock.

pope stared at you. “you’re my best friend—“

“yeah, no shit—“

“can you just listen, y/n?” you shut up, trying your hardest not to get up and join the rest of the pogues. that beer and weed were looking real good right about then.

“i was always scared to tell you. afraid that it would ruin our friendship and you’d never wanna be around me anymore. but i like you. no— scratch that, y/n. i fucking love you. i always have. but you’re just.. too good for me. too pretty and too cool and too— everything. you’d never choose me. i knew that.”

“pope..” you whispered, but he quickly shook his head.

“no. let me talk. if im going to do this, then let me talk.”

you nodded a little, your heartbeat going one hundred miles per hour. he loved you.

he really did.

“i thought that maybe if i got with kie, then you’d realize i could be more than just your best friend, that i could do anything a good boyfriend would. but then she dropped me. and i was scared that you would think it was because i wasn’t good enough. but i want you to know that kie is my best friend. you.. you’re like, the love of my life. it’s corny but—“

“just shut up,” you said suddenly.

you pulled him in, slinging your arm around his neck as you came in contact with his lips. they were softer than you expected, and your lips moved together in sync passionately.

you couldn’t believe this was finally happening. after years and years of dreaming of this one moment, it finally came to you.

when you pulled away, pope tried to chase your lips, but you placed a hand on his lips with a laugh. “geez, eager much?”

pope rolled his eyes before wrapping his arms around you, embracing you as tight as he could.

“i love you, y/n. i love you so much,” he whispered into you ear, his head laying on yours. the corners of your plump lips from kissing pope curved up in a sweet smile.

“i love you, too, pope.”

and when you finally pulled away from the hug, you couldn’t help but admire the eyes of the boy who had been yours from the start.

[raapija]

hi! as a prompt for pookie au (which i love), how do you think carlos would react to finding out his dad is dating LANCE of all people? would he be immediately freaking out or would he hold it in and rant to charles about it later?

Thank you for the prompt. <3

(Carlos and Charles hadn't yet met, as this is set in 2018.)

summary: Lance talks with Carlos for the first time after Lance and Fernando told him they were dating. Also some strollonso fluff to balance it out.

warnings: some swearing, Carlos being extremely mean to Lance

Lance fiddled with the sleeve of his hoodie. He could feel his ears burning as Carlos stared at him from the other side of the patio table. The cool evening air made his skin tingle.

"Why?" he heard Carlos ask after what had felt like 15 minutes of silence. Lance had sat down with him after having dinner with Fernando. It was the first time they told Carlos that they were together. Lando or Oscar probably would've blurted it out at some point, but it was definitely easier to tell him like this.

"What?" Lance asked for him to clarify what exactly he meant by 'why?.' He couldn't really look at Carlos, because he knew he was staring daggers back at him. They had been racing together for years, but had never really became friends or spent time together. Carlos was also a couple years older than him and had always been kind of intimidating to Lance. Something about those dark brown eyes.

"Why my dad? Of all people, why him?" Carlos continued his questioning. Now Lance looked at him and his heart skipped a few beats as he saw the expression on Carlos' face. Contempt.

"I love him."

Carlos scoffed and Lance felt something inside him shift. He straightened in his seat and took a deep breath. He wasn't going to give in.

"Listen," he started. "I really do like him. I know it's fucking weird that he's older and you're older than me, but so what? We like each other. It's not just some fling. He's done a lot for me and I for him. I love him."

Carlos studied him from across the table. The longer he didn't say anything, the faster Lance's heart beat. Adrenaline rushing in his veins as if he was on a race track, trying to overtake him at a high-speed corner. In the end, it was Carlos who averted his eyes to look away.

"If you break his heart, I'll kill you." Carlos said and Lance breathed out. His face was serious. "I've seen what it's like for him, and I don't want to see that again, ever. So don't you dare."

"I won't hurt him. I promise." Lance said and Carlos' eyes moved back to focus on him.

"You promise?" he chuckled, now sounding condescending. "That's what the last guy said as well. And then he left him."

Lance's heart was about to burst out of his chest. Maybe he couldn't overtake in the corner and instead would crash into the wall.

"My dad gave everything to me. He gave me a chance when no one else would. He doesn't deserve you. He's got all he needs in me and my brothers. He loves us. Not you. " Carlos said, his words cutting right through Lance like little knives. It made his throat turn dry. "You understand?"

"I do." Lance got out. Carlos' chair dragged painfully on the tile flooring of the patio when he stood up to leave. As he walked past Lance, he gave him a strong pat on the shoulder and made Lance flinch. Crashed, in the wall. Game over.

"I'll be watching you." Carlos said and then stepped back into the house, leaving him alone. Lance breathed out and a flood of emotions ran through him as he relaxed. He was 20. Just barely got into F1 and immediately started dating a 37 year-old with three grown kids. This really did sound like some sort of a breakdown if you looked at it from the outside. Still, he was glad the only person at his throat was Carlos and not the media. Only a few people knew, and that was for the best. He had enough on his plate as a 'pay-driver'.

¬

Later that night, Lance was laying in bed, deep under the covers and waiting for Fernando to join him. He had been in this bed countless times before, but the idea of Carlos lurking somewhere in the same house made him uneasy.

He could finally hear Fernando's familiar footsteps climbing up the staircase to the second floor where the bedroom was. As soon as he stepped into the room, Lance's mind stopped racing.

"You okay?" the Spaniard asked as he sat down on the other side of the bed from Lance. He must've sensed Lance's anxiety all the way from downstairs.

"Yeah. Talked to Carlos." Lance said and turned onto his side so he could see Fernando better. The older man laid his watch and jewelry from his wrists on the bedside table and the slid under the covers. They were both facing each other and Lance scooted a little closed so Fernando could wrap an arm around him.

"How it go? Not too scary, I hope." Fernando's voice was soothing and Lance settled against his chest, warm skin touching his forehead. He felt Fernando press little kisses into his hair on the top of his head.

"He only threatened to kill me, so not that bad." Lance said and Fernando laughed. Him laughing made it feel a bit better, like he wasn't actually going to get beat up if he made one mistake.

"That's my Carlito." Fernando hummed and squeezed Lance a little closer to him, slowly running his hand up and down his back. "Don't worry about him. He likes to pretend he's tougher than he is."

"He told me someone broke your heart before so he didn't want me to repeat that." Lance said and Fernando's hand stopped moving.

Lance heard a quiet 'oh...' and wriggled back a bit to look at him. Fernando's eyes were sad. Lance didn't like that.

"I'm sorry."

"No, no." Fernando hurried to stop him from apologizing. He moved his hand up and set it on Lance's cheek. "That's nothing. History. I got you now, so it's okay."

"Yeah?" Lance asked and Fernando gently tucked a bit of his hair behind his ear. The Spaniard smiled at him, his eyes back to normal and happy. The things Carlos had said still irked at the back of Lance's brain, but he didn't press on it.

"You fix me." Fernando said and moved in to kiss Lance on the forehead. He then pulled him close again and held his arm tight around him. "I talk with Carlito tomorrow. Tell him to be nice to you."

Lance hummed and could already feel himself falling asleep. It felt so safe with Fernando. Strong arms holding onto him and his warmth transferring into him. Everything was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

[smilesatdawnmain]

For all the monkey children, what are some headcannons you have for them as siblings? Things like favorite sibling, rivalries, any 'middle child' syndrome, etc.

Im personally most curious about Qi Haoyu and Qi Bao as the oldest and youngest

Oh my GOSH I just want to gush about this cute little Monkey Family! To the point I was writing a lot. So I am going to do it in sections. This first part will be just about Haoyu to start, and then I'll post each sibling separately to highlight other connections. You'll still get a lot of good insight about all of them through this :D 

—-

Haoyu: 

Rivalries are non-existent. Perhaps because he is the oldest, he doesn’t feel this with any of his siblings. Though outsiders like to gossip and theorize that MK and him are rivals to be Wukong’s “true successor”, in truth, both never view it that way. Haoyu is tall, so his siblings often climb on him like a tree to see further away, or just to talk to him. Haoyu doesn’t smile often. Or show much emotion, a very stoic monkey. His Siblings know how to make him laugh. He has the most expectations on his back as the first born, often heavily compared to Wukong. Many try to gain favor from him due to this, and he struggles to tell the difference from honest intentions to dishonest ones. 

MK and Haoyu often train late into the night together, taking the training the most seriously out of all the siblings. Whatever MK doesn't understand from his training with his Baba and Dad, it is Haoyu that can often make it clear. When MK is stressed about their “Destiny” it is Haoyu who can assure his worries, being someone the world looks at in a similar fashion. While MK is nervous to reveal his worries to everyone else, because he doesn’t wish to worry them, he does confide in Haoyu and Xiaohua the most. 

Xiaohua and Haoyu both love to seek out new land. While Xiaohua is more in for the views and new people, he is eager to help Haoyu’s treasure hunting obsession, as Xiaohua also likes shiny things. It is thanks to Haoyu that his parents let him go on adventures even before he is an adult, so long as he doesn’t leave his big brother’s side. Both are similarly naive to marketplace “Deals”, but Xiaohua at least can tell when demons and celestias try to trick his big brother into “helping” them. Haoyu does hit anyone who calls Xiaohua “Little Flower”. 

You would often find Sying clinging to Haoyu’s back when they were younger as whenever she got upset, she would go to him and rant about her feelings. He was a good listener and continued to train even as she clung to his back. You will sometimes still see her do this. She goes to Haoyu for advice on relationships, and other issues. Helps Sying with her training as he is literally a wall. So she practices the swing of her fan by trying to move an immovable object- her brother. When discovering her laser eyes, she accidentally gave Haoyu a not so flattering haircut and singed his fur for a while. 

Haoyu knows of Savage’s secret girlfriend and keeps this knowledge to himself. Haoyu once left home to explore and was 3 days away before he realize Savage and Rumble had hid in the shadows below his feet. Not long after turning around, Wukong realizes what must have happened and met with Haoyu half way. There is a reason Rumble and Savage were born as they are but have never been told why by their parents. Haoyu knows the reason why, but has never told his parents he knows this knowledge. Haoyu like to play board games the most with Savage as his little brother makes him laugh the most. 

While Haoyu can speak some words and is not completely deaf, he often only speaks to Rumble through sign language. These two often like to meditate together in complete silence, enjoying the peace. If Haoyu were to admit he has a favorite, it would be a heavy tie between Rumble and Savage, as these two tend to be the ones to make him laugh the most. Rumble often shares many of his interests. When Rumble and Savage were little, you would find the two sneaking out of their beds to have sleepovers with many of their siblings- Haoyu being the most common sibling to find the two in his bed the following morning. Out of all their siblings, Rumble hides the most in Haoyu’s shadow. 

Haoyu is often dragged around by Xue to go shopping and carry her bags for her. She likes to design clothes, so due to Haoyu’s ability to stand perfectly still for long periods of time, he is her mannequin. She discusses politics with him, though it is mostly her doing the talking and Haoyu nodding quietly. He doesn’t speak fondly of politics, but he at least understands them unlike the rest of their siblings. Haoyu’s nails are often new shades of color and cutely designed because of Xue. She makes all of his outfits, and the rest of her siblings. Haoyu gets pouty sometimes because Xue is very good at tricking him. 

It was extremely difficult for Haoyu to properly bond with Bao, but not because of their age gape. It was due to Haoyu often using sign to speak, and Bao being unable to read sign due to being blind. They found a system to resolve this. Haoyu has a small hand drum that his Baba used to use to calm him down when he was little and overwhelmed. It’s a noise he can hear clearly and likes. He keeps this drum on his hip when home, so Bao can always hear when he is approaching/so that Haoyu doesn’t accidentally startle Bao. Haoyu also use his index finger to write on Bao’s palms to talk. Rumble does a similar thing for Bao. Haoyu is protective of Bao, but often shows this quietly, by removing foes or obstacle to Bao long before Bao even realizes they are there. When Bao was an infant, if their parents had to leave at the same time, Haoyu was entrusted to hold, feed, and change Bao. 

(I’m debating between gold and blue eyes. Blue because of… certain reasons. So for now, his eyes are blue. This may change)

All siblings

(Next sibling) - MK

[itsscromp]

Home, a place where I can go

To celebrate the reboot of my blog. I have decided to give you all the fluffiest of fluff by the best dad in gaming history. This spin-off idea (which I will call what if's) is courtesy of me and @callofdudes y'all are gonna love it !! What if Simon ran away from home and Price ended up adopting him and years later a young y/n too ?? Warnings: Mentions of abuse and potential inaccuracies (Please let me know if there are any) Word count:4.6K

Simon Riley 'Age 10' has had a hard life, He hated coming home to the endless cycle of abuse from his father, and after the latest incident, he's had enough. Forming a plan two weeks ago to leave, he began to act on it, when he came back from school, he rushed upstairs and grabbed his backpack with his clothes and such. But when he returned downstairs, look who was there to greet him...

"And where the fuck do you think your going mate !!??" Simon could smell the alcohol in his breath. "Leaving..." He said quietly.

"You wouldn't even survive 5 hours on the streets..." He then slowly walked over, If Simon didn't leave soon, he knew what would happen next, So without hesitation he bolted for the door, dodging his dad's arms and heading outside, running as fast as he could. "I'll find you soon Simon!!!!" His dad yelled. But Simon didn't care, he was now free... he was free.

He ran until he couldn't no more, crashing under a nearby bridge, it was cold but it was shaded, away from the rain. He sighed out in relief at the fact he was out and away... from him. He pulled his blanket out from his backpack and wrapped it around him to keep himself safe and warm.

The following afternoon, Simon stayed right under the bridge but he only had a jam sandwich and a couple of snacks on him, he knew that alone wasn't going to last. He watched all the cars drive by from above, making a game for himself to count the cars with the same colours. But then... He noticed one car stopping nearby. His instincts kicking back in... The car looked like his dad's car, So he quickly packed his blanket in his backpack as fast as he could before he could have the chance.

"Woah woah woah... It's ok..." But the person that got out of the car wasn't his dad... it was a young man... In a bright polo shirt. "It's ok... I'm not here to hurt you"

Simon opened his mouth, wanting to scream at him, tell him he was not going with him, not going back to him. But he remained quiet, almost utterly frozen in fear. The young man slowly moved forward with almost a kind smile.

"My name is A/n, I'm from the *adoption agency name* It's ok..." He made it to Simon, showing he wasn't a threat. But the instincts were still on fire inside Simon. No one could be trusted at this point. "Please... it's too cold and dangerous to be out here for someone your age." He offered his hand to Simon.

Simon hesitated greatly, He didn't want to go anywhere, the what-ifs clouded his mind as to think this could be a trap. But a part of his mind was screaming safety very softly, He was right. It was very cold, He didn't have any food and he'd be in danger the longer he stayed out. So slowly and hesitantly, he took A/n's hand. To which he smiled and slowly went back to the car with him, Nice and warm as Simon hopped in.

They soon arrived at the agency where A/n showed him a spare room. "Are you hungry ??" He asked Simon, to which the loud growling of his stomach gave the answer away. "I'll be right back ok ??" He smiled and went to find him some food.

Simon sat down on the bed, soft and comfortable. But his guard was still up, again what if this was a trap. He wasn't used to this amount of kindness before. A/n soon came back with a plate of fresh hot food and handed it to Simon. He ate the food as A/n sat down next to him. "Can you tell me your name ??" He asked. But Simon froze... If he told him, would he know who he is ?? He sat there for a little while trying to fight his own thoughts in his head. "It's ok... take your time" A/n gently reassured him. After a bit he finally and quietly said. "Simon"

3.5 months later

While there, Simon was still a little quiet, but he opened up a small bit, telling A/n he doesn't want to go back home, and how he's scared to go back home, telling him about some of the stuff his dad does... to him. Which immediately concerned him, So he reassured him that he would find a safe space for him when the time came... and it may have arrived.

John Price always dreamed of being a dad, To show one child all the love and affection he had in him. But military life had been straining that dream tight, So he decided to act on that dream now rather than wait, he went to multiple adoption agencies nearby, But the suitable matches weren't going anywhere in London. So he broadened his expansion to Manchester.

A/n was busy filling out some paperwork when he saw Price walk in. "Oh hello sir, How can I help you ??" He smiled at him. "Hi, I was looking into adopting if that's ok ??" He asked him.

"Oh that's wonderful, Come, have a seat" He and Price began the formal interview, Price really didn't want to get his hopes up during the whole thing. But then... "I do think we may have a child who would love your company" He smiled and passed him a file. Price opened it to reveal the file of a child named Simon Riley, As he read it, He couldn't help but feel very sad. This poor kiddo, he just wanted to wrap him in the softest blanket and make him a nice hot cocoa. "Would you like to meet him ??" A/n offered, to which Price nodded. "Of course"

The two then went to his room and A/n knocked on his door. "Simon, may I come in ??" He asked.

"Yes..." He answered.

"Just wait out here" A/n whispered to price as he entered the room. "Hey... How are you feeling ??"

"Ok" He answered bluntly.

"Simon... There's someone I'd like you to meet, He is really interested in adopting you, Isn't that exciting ??" He smiled, but Simon froze up. The fear returned to him. "N...No..." He grew scared.

"Simon, I promise I'll still be here, I'll be in the room ok ??" He gently reassured him. After a bit of convincing. Simon agreed to let Price meet him. "You can come in now" He opened the door a bit and walked back in, Price entered the room saw Simon and smiled. "Hey kiddo" He greeted. "Hi..." Simon said, not making eye contact with price. Price gently walked over and sat next to him, seeing the comic book in Simon's hand. "Bit of a batman fan are we ??" He inspected the cover, Simon nodding. He loved batman with his life.

It was a little quiet before Simon started to make very small talk, It was going smoothly for a little while but Price could see he was still very hesitant. So he asked A/n to meet him outside for a little bit. "I understand if he's a little quiet..." A/n tried to say.

"No, it's not that... Would it be ok if we just did a trial weekend ?? Help him warm up a little bit." He asked him. "Oh... yes yes, of course, Let me run it with him ok ??' He asked and Price nodded. Entering back in the room, A/n sat next to him. "Simon, Could I ask you something ??' He asked, Simon looked at him briefly and nodded slowly. "Mr price really would love to get to know you, He's asked if it's ok with you, Would you like to stay a weekend with him ??"

Simon's eyes went slightly wide, New fears ran all over his head, what if it could happen all over again... No, don't be so stupid, they wouldn't be that stupid... Would they ?? "I understand it sounds very scary, But we promise, just one weekend, If you didn't like it in the end that's ok too"

Simon thought about it for a little while, It was just one weekend and that was it. So... He decided to give it a go. After packing for a weekend, Simon followed Price back to his car and hopped in, beginning the drive. "You comfortable back there kiddo ?? It's gonna be a bit of a drive" Price looked back as Simon nodded to him. Soon beginning the drive to London.

Simon remained quiet for the entirety of the drive, Looking out the window and seeing things roll past him. Price sometimes looked back in the rearview mirror, seeing him. Hopefully, he does a good job. Soon arriving back in London, They made it back to Price's house, The two getting the much-needed stretches in. "Always a good feeling hey ??" Price smiled at him. Simon remained quiet and nodded, Following price to the door as he unlocked it.

He invited Simon inside, Slowly walking in, the first thing he saw was family photos on the wall. It made him feel slightly ill looking at them, Why couldn't he have that ?? He then spotted a TV in the living room and an arrangement of DVDs on a bookshelf. Looking through them, He noticed there were a lot of different types of movies, Back with... him, it was always very violent and scary movies. But with Price, he had a whole different taste. "Come, I'll show you your room." He smiled, leading Simon to the spare bedroom A nice big bed with freshly made sheets. "You look tired, Do you need to rest ??' Price asked. Simon yawned and nodded. "Ok, I'll be downstairs if you need me" Price smiled and gently closed the door.

Simon took off his shoes and crawled into the bed, Gently closing his eyes, Getting the needed rest after a very long drive. A couple hours later, he was awoken by... Some delicious smells. What could they be ??

He got up and crept down the stairs, Seeing Price cook dinner, It looked like... Lasagna... He could also hear Price hum to himself as he was singing something to the tune of the radio. As Price placed the lasagna in the oven, he noticed Simon and smiled, walking over gently. "Hey there kiddo, Sleep ok ??" Simon nodded at the question before saying "I did..."

Price smiled and gently brought his hand to Simon's head, Gently ruffling it. Simon couldn't help but twitch a smile briefly. No one has ever done this... The name of endearment, the physical affection, it was all new to him. "You wanna watch a movie ??" Price offered, Simon slowly nodded and followed Price to the living room. He sat down on the couch and kicked his legs slightly as Price went to the DVD cabinet and picked out a couple of movies, Going back to Simon, he showed him what there was on offer.

Chicken run... prince of Egypt... ... a bug's life... Simon stared at the cases for a little while before ultimately handing 2 back to Price and chose Chicken Run. "That one ??" He nodded. Price smiled, placed the DVDs back, popped the current movie into the player and started the movie, sitting next to Simon. He was intrigued by the premise of the movie, eyes glued to the screen. Price smiled as he saw him watching the movie, Inviting him to snuggle closer... Simon saw it and stared at him for a little bit before looking back at the screen. Maybe not just yet.

Price heard the bell of the oven ding and went over to serve the plates. Coming back to Simon with some cutlery and a tea towel, he offered him the fresh hot plate. "Careful now, It's still a little hot" Price warned Simon. "Thank you..."

Simon stared at his plate for a little bit, It looked... really delicious. "I make a killer lasagna" Price said to him proudly with a wink. Simon soon took the cutlery, cutting into it and taking a bite after blowing on it... Oh... It was... So delicious !!! Price smiled as he saw Simon happily eat his food. Once finished, Simon was a happy fed boy. But then... Another thing he was never asked back then... "Would you like some ice cream ??" He was never allowed to have ice cream after dinner. It was very strange, But he ended up saying... "Yes please"

Price nodded and got up, taking the empty plates with him and soon grabbing two bowls and a spoon, Taking the tub of ice cream out of the freezer, he scooped some up and placed them into the bowls. Handing it back to Simon. "There we go" he smiled as he sat back down.

Simon slowly ate as the movie continued, He felt... Like he was seen, He was being helped... He couldn't control his wobbly lip and the tears in his eyes as he snuggled up to price. This man made him feel... safe. Price noticed and smiled wide, wrapping an arm around Simon as the movie continued. Once it was finished, Price looked at him. "Did you enjoy that kiddo ??" He rubbed his arm gently.

"I... I did... Thank you, Mr Price" he said, snuggling impossibly closer to him. Price smiled and then soon, mischief took over him. Creeping his other arm around him, he then began... The tickle attack !!!, Simon gasped before launching into an array of giggles. Trapped in the clutches of Price's ticklish fingers "My my kiddo, So ticklish you are" He chuckled as he continued to tickle Simon's sides.

In that moment... Simon was home... He felt at home...

4 years later.

Simon *now age 14* has been living with Price for 4 years and their bond became unbreakable. He saw Price as a father figure, and even started calling him dad. Price loved Simon with everything within him. But he had a spare room in the house and more room in his heart for one more.

"Simon, can I talk to you about something ??" He sat down on the couch, inviting Simon.

"Hey Dad, What's up ??" Simon sat down next to him.

"How would you feel... If we opened up our home for one more ??" He smiled softly.

Simon sat there thinking about it, The thought of having... a sibling... That's nerve-wracking for a multitude of reasons... But like Price, he had room in his heart for one more as well. So with that, he agreed.

Price then decided to keep it close to home this time as he then went to the adoption agency in London again. But when he walked into the door, he saw a familiar face. "A/n ??"

A/n looked up and saw him, smiling "John, What a surprise"

Price smiled "What bring's you to London ??"

"Oh, they transferred me to the London Centre, It's been pretty fun. How is Simon doing anyway ??"

"Simon is doing good, He's really settled and I know he's happy." Price smiled wide, His kiddo was everything.

"Oh, that is absolutely amazing to hear"

"It is, I'm really proud of him"

"I'm glad he's doing nicely, So what can I do for you ??" He smiled, inviting price to sit.

"I had a talk with Simon and he's comfortable enough that I think another amazing addition to our house would make us all happy"

A/n nodded, smiling. "Oh wonderful, Ok let's get started then"

So once again the formal interview happened to match Price with a child. And then, they found one. A/n, passed a file to price.

"Y/n l/n" *age 12* Price opened the file and read through it.

"Poor child, Their mother kicked them out of the house and they had no family to go to... We found them on the streets and they've been mostly quiet"

Almost how Simon was found... "Can I talk to them ???" He asked. "Of course"

So they got up and walked to your room, A/n knocking on the door. "Y/n ??, I have someone I'd like you to meet"

"Come in..." You said hesitantly as the door opened.

"Y/n, this is John Price. He wants to meet and talk with you for a bit if that's ok ??"

You looked at him briefly and at Price who greeted you with a kind smile and nodded to you. You slowly nodded, indicating yes. "I'll leave you two be" A/n stepped outside as Price entered the room. "Hey y/n, can I sit ??"

You scooched over slowly, Indicating his invitation to do so. He sat down next to you, But not enough to intrude on your space. Seeing a book in your hand. "You like to read ??"

"Sometimes... depends on what it is" You answered him.

"Do you have a favourite genre ???"

"I like... sci-fi and thrillers"

"Nice, I'm a thriller kinda guy, but sci-fi gets thrown in there too" He smiled

"Oh yeah ??"

"Yeah. Have you ever read Sherlock Holmes?? It's one of my favourite book series"

You sat there thinking for a bit. "Hmmm no, I don't think I have"

"Maybe you'd like it. I think it's pretty good, but maybe you wouldn't that's ok too" He smiled.

You and Price continued to get to know each other for the next hour, You slowly began to open up a fair bit, telling Price about your hobbies and interests, even pulling out your figurine from your backpack. "This is Jason Todd, or red hood, He's from the Batman universe." You showed him.

"Oh wow, that's really cool... Y/n, I have a son back at home, His name is Simon and he is similar to you. If you were to meet him and see if you two got along, would you like that ??"

"I guess so..." You went quiet again... The whole situation was a tad bit daunting. You knew he meant well.

He could see the look on your face... He didn't want to force you into anything "What if I stop by later today or tomorrow so you two can spend some time together, Don't feel too pressured, only if you'd be comfortable."

You nodded gently "Ok..."

"It was lovely to meet you Y/n" He smiled and got up, Heading back home, Simone heard him enter the doorway "How did it go ??" Simone asked, Looking up from the tv.

"It went well, I met a kid named y/n, Would it be ok if I brought you over to meet them, I'd think you too would get along" He smiled softly.

"Yeah..." Simon was a little nervous, would you like him ??, Would they be freaked out by the mask ?? *Simon wears a skull surgical mask* He was very hesitant... But... he believed he was ready to be a sibling again.

Heading back to the centre with Simon in tow, A/n guided them to your room and knocked on the door. "Come in..." You said, Price entered the room first before Simon. "Hey again y/n, I brought my son Simon with me" He smiled. Simon stood behind him, quietly staring at you for a bit before waving a little.

"Hi..." You waved back.

He was a bit hesitant, Seeing if you were ok with his presence at first, But you didn't seem hesitant... so that's a good start. So Price gently turned to Simon, Softly smiling and nodding in the direction, He came over to you and sat next to you.

"Hi"

"Hey" He greeted

"Cool mask"

"Thanks... Most people are kind of freaked out by it"

"Well... I think it's cool"

"Thanks... Dad tells me you like to read ??' He tries to start a conversation with you.

"Yeah." You then showed him the book you were reading. A book called Wonder.

Simon inspected it for a bit, Slowly relaxing and sort of sitting on the edge of the bed. "This looks good"

"It is, I'm liking it so far." Price saw a slight shift in your body language, in a more positve note,

"What's your favourite ??' You asked.

"I'm into horror" He answered.

"Oh yeah ?? What's your favourite ???"

"I like Stephen King, I got to read the shining a couple months ago too"

"Nice, I've always wanted to read Carrie, that looks cool"

"I think I remember liking that one"

Price remained silent, soon slipping away outside to give you two the space you wanted, the atmosphere settled down, and it was comfortable. The two were engaging in a full conversation like you had with Price. It was nice, Simon could see why Price liked you, You were kind, and he didn't think he'd mind you becoming a part of the family, Soon price came back inside.

"How are you kiddo's going ??" He smiled

"Doing good" Y/n answered.

Simon nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we're doing good"

"That's great, I'm glad you two are getting along"

"Simon is really cool" You smiled softly.

Simon smiled as well under the mask. "Y/n is nice and cool as well"

This in turn makes Price smile. "Yeah ??" He then turned to you "Y/n, I know it's a lot all at once, but... If you two talked it out, would you want to come home with us ??"

"Oh..." You went quiet, Simon noticed this too.

"That's ok, It doesn't have to be right away. There's no pressure, I promise"

"Could you give us a minute ??" You asked price, To which he agreed and stepped out and nodded, Simon could see your hesitancy. "You guys are cool... But I don't know..."

Simon gently shifted and scooted over. "I know it's a huge step. But believe me, I was in the same position as you. I was... terrified of going home with John before, But he's really kind and he's given me everything i need and more, I know he wouldn't hesitate to do the same for you."

You continued to think about it... But the thoughts of your mom came back to you... the yelling, the stuff being thrown... You couldn't help but think that if you went back with them... It would happen all over again... "I... I can't... I'm too scared... Of it happening all over again, My mom... She used to do many things... Made me very scared... And I'm scared that if I go with you guys it'll happen all over again." You admitted. "I can't help but think... It'll happen all over again." You looked down at the floor, sad.

Simon hesitated for a bit until he gently placed his hand on your shoulder, softly squeezing it. "Y/n..." He hesitated for a bit, it was still too painful to talk about. "I understand that, I know what that's like, I'll say that much. I've lived with him for 4 years and haven't once thought I wasn't loved, With all the stuff I went through and the damage he had to repair... He just wants to love you and give you what you deserve and need, That's why he's here" He squeezed your shoulder again. "I know, I know how you feel. I was just as scared about that. But he's given me more love than I thought possible"

Listening to that, you started to have a change of heart. Maybe... Simon was right, Maybe Price really wanted to help you. "Ok... I'll give it a chance" You nodded, turning to Simon.

He smiled a little under his mask.

Price then came back inside after a bit. "Have you given it a bit of thought y/n ??"

You nodded. "I'll give you a chance"

With that, Price smiled wide and nodded. Like Simon, you were given a weekend with the two. So you packed your bag, and before you knew it, you were in the car with them heading to their home... Possibly your home too.

You arrive at their house soon after. "Woah..." It was a relatively big house.

"Welcome home" Price smiled, Opening the door for you.

"Thank you" You smiled softly and entered, It was nice and cozy.

"Come on, I'll show you your room" Simon said to you and guided you upstairs, Placing your bag down as you sat down on the bed. "It's nice and comfy hey ??" He smiled softly at you. "Yeah, Where's your room ??"

"This used to be mine, But dad let me use the basement as my room" He said.

Speaking of Price. "The room nice and cozy ??' He asked you.

"It is, Thank you" You nodded.

"I'll get dinner started shortly, you two keep each other company eh ??"

Simon turned to you "Come on, I'll set up my XBOX in the living room" He rushed downstairs, You hightailing. XBOX ?? You liked XBOX.

He then set everything up, sitting down and passing you a controller. "I got halo 2 or sonic heroes" He said to you, showing you the cases. You looked at them for a little bit. Interesting choices, In the end, You ended up with halo 2.

Simon placed the disk in and the game started, soon the two of you were having fun, Price could see you start to warm up more to Simon. It was like the two of you were Immediately best friends. He soon eventually came over to you two. "Dinner will be ready soon kiddos" He smiled, gently squeezing Simon's shoulder and ruffling your hair, to which you giggled. "Hey" You fixed it up. It was the first time Price heard you laugh.

"I think it looks better this way" He smirked, ruffling it again. "Stop" You giggled again.... and soon he slipped his hands under your shoulders, Get em Simon" He smiled. Simon get's your waist and the two start tickling you, Launching you into further giggles and laughs

"Gotcha kiddo" Price chuckled, tickling you harder, making you squeak out your laughs.

"Your just as ticklish as Simon" He smirked as he continued. "So so ticklish you are"

"Stohohoho....Stohohoho..." You said in between laughs.

"They almost had it Dad" Simon looked up at him.

"They did, So close y/n, try again" He smirked.

Happy tears started to emerge from your eyes as you finally got out. "STOHOHOHOHOHOHP"

"There it is" They finally let you go. You smiled, curling in on yourself. Price ruffling your head again. Soon the oven dinged, and dinner was ready. Simon bolted to the kitchen as dinner was being served. You weren't too far. He served you... His iconic lasagna. "This looks delicious" You said as he sat down.

"Eat away kiddo" He smiled as you all started to eat, Like Simon, this was the best thing you ever had. It was just so delicious. You didn't even realise you burped once you finished. "Sorry..." You apologised, but then Simon did you one better and let out a louder, longer burp. "Excuse me dad" Which made you giggle. Price chuckled softly and turned to you. "It's ok."

Once dinner was done, You and Simon went back to your halo match as the bond between you two grew... And then, you made your decision...

"Mr price, can I talk to you."

"Of course kiddo what's up ??" He smiled softly at you.

You turned to Simon and back to him before looking at your hands shyly, Trying to come up with the words. "It's ok take your time." He reassured before Simon saw you and walked to the entrance of the kitchen.

With a deep breath... "I... I want to stay with you guys... Not for one weekend."

You wanted to be adopted into their family, Your family. Price smiled so wide and soon pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead. Simon didn't hesitate and rushed over to you. Hugging you tightly. Making you giggle, You were home...

You were home.

A/N: A great way to start the new blog by breaking my own word count record :D

Taglist: @callofdudes @fun-k-board

[philtstone]

24. Showing up injured at their friend/mentor’s house: for shawn? :)

[emerges from writing this fic bloody and beaten and on the verge of collapse] ill explore karen vicks character in an overly complicated post-episode missing scene fic or die trying! set immediately post "right turn or left for dead". i genuinely dont know if im happy with this but i also cant figure out how to fix it. actually, it would have probably been easier to write if i was willing to rewatch the episodes its based on. which i am not, because i am a sensitive little soul. so i winged it. i think there are like 10 different ideas that crop up and theyre all equally fascinating as character threads but i have no idea if i tied them together in an even remotely coherent way. also, WOULD she say that??? i had to call my brother twice to ask. this is what yall get for sending me actually interesting prompts, huh

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Henry’s voice said on the phone. “I’ll send Shawn over with them on his way out. He's going in your direction, anyway.”

In her short tenure as the junior detective to Henry Spencer’s lieutenant, Karen Vick observed two things:

First, that he was a far more clever strategist than most people gave him credit for. Despite the ongoing wreckage of his impending divorce and a kid who was slipping through his fingers as everyone looked on, Karen didn’t agree with the other junior detectives’ impression of him as a smash-the-door-down old school hard ass with thinning hair and a worst attitude. The man played four dimensional chess right out of a bonafide Star Trek episode. When he really wanted something done, Henry Spencer could bullshit and bluff and battle plan with the pros, and half the time you’d get too caught up in the blustering misdirect to realize his game was intricately thought out three steps in advance.

It was how they caught the Shorttown Killer, and also how they got that idiot Trembley at the mayor’s office to finally replace their coffee maker. Karen went home to her then-boyfriend, now-husband, and, right before bed, pulled out an old school workbook and took notes.

The second thing was that Henry Spencer loved his son. 

Not a lot has changed since then, Karen thinks, staring down the weirdness that she now faces through her open front door.

“… Oh — Mr. Spencer,” Karen says, because it’s rude not to greet your employees when they show up at your home outside of work hours, and are also your old friend-slash-colleague’s kid. “Hello. Thanks for — bringing these over.”

“Dad said it was urgent,” Shawn says.

Urgent isn’t quite how Karen would describe it, but hearing through the grapevine that your department might be facing an audit sometime in the next quarter does light a fire under the proverbial ass. Karen would rather bend a few rules and make sure the last year’s i’s and t’s are dotted and crossed right than leave her detectives vulnerable to the whims of a mayoral stooge. 

In general, Karen prides herself on caring about the people under her command just enough that it inspires genuine friendship and loyalty. The just is important. Care needs tempering – it’s important to pull back, press pause, keep certain lines uncrossed. It’s especially important if you want to be successful as a woman in an authority position where lives are often on the line. 

What she’s saying is that she tries to make it none of her business what her employees get up to in their spare time. She really genuinely does. She’s shut O’Hara down gently midway through the twelfth sweetly-frazzled attempt to overshare about her dating life (or her efforts to befriend her next-door neighbor, or the endearing personality quirks of her last cat – rest in peace, Triscuit, you will be missed –) enough times to be well-versed in the art of I Won’t Ask, You Won’t Tell, But You’ll Probably Know I Care Anyway.

An invaluable rapport to maintain. In any situation, Karen thinks, but especially when you’re a person who regularly hires and works alongside Shawn Spencer.

She’s not sure whether what she’s looking at right now makes her want to second guess or double down on her usual policy. 

“Special delivery,” Shawn adds, like everything is super normal.

Karen narrows her eyes. She glances behind them into the quiet residential street.

“Shawn,” she says.

“Yes, Chief?”

“You didn’t drive here, did you?”

“Ha,” he says, half rolling his eyes to accompany a weird aborted grin. “No. Even I don’t think riding a motorcycle with a concussion is a good idea. What if someone who wasn’t me got hurt? That’s — that would be no good, then you’d have to arrest me. Wouldn’t that be a huge bummer for the whole team, Chief? Gus would cry. And my dad wouldn’t let me take his truck.”

Karen stares at him. Shawn stares at the ground.

“I got a cab,” he says.

“And you are … taking another cab – home?”

Shawn looks quite suddenly like he’s going to be sick.

“Sure,” he says. 

Shawn looks terrible. Bruised face, bags under his eyes, and a weird frenetic energy twitching in his limbs that doesn’t pair well with his general air of exhaustion. He’s holding his shoulders stiffly and can barely meet her eye. His t-shirt and sweatpants are rumpled, like he slept in them, even though it’s too early in the evening for Henry to have woken him up to send him here, and when he thrusts the promised files out into the air toward her, abrupt and, admittedly, Shawn-like, he only just hides the awkward wince that immediately overtakes his left side.

The last couple days have been a bit of a whirlwind, so Karen can’t say she necessarily blames herself for not looking more closely. 

Even so.

Slowly, Karen reaches forward and divests him of the case files. They slip a little bit, because Karen can’t seem to stop peering shrewdly at Shawn’s face while she does it, and on instinct he reaches forward to stop the stack from toppling. 

It does help, but the autopilot he moves on makes it harder to mask what is to Karen’s eyes a very obvious flinch. 

“Alright,” is all he says. “Well, good to see you. Time to head back to the old hay stack.”

Like a needle in a haystack and time to hit the hay, Karen supplies needlessly in her own head. Aloud, she says, in many ways against her better judgment, 

“Mr. Spencer, are you okay?”

Shawn sways on the spot for a second, one fist clenched, mouth half open. For a strange moment, Karen gets the impression that he’s trying really hard not to say the wrong thing.

“... As rain,” he finally manages, then nods to himself like he achieved some great feat. “Okay. Well –”

“Did something happen to your shoulder?” 

“What? No!” Shawn’s eyes flutter closed and he shakes his head, “I’m – fine, Chief. It’s not – I mean, I’m – normal, fine. Fine in a normal way.”

“That’s not something an individual who’s fine in a normal way would say,” Karen says. 

“Uh, is it not! It is. I would know, because I am that individual. It’s – I was – there’s just mild – pfft … stab wound – or something, who would even …”

Is Shawn broken? is the unhelpful thought that pops into Karen’s head. She’s never heard an attempt to bullshit collapse so quickly into pathetic nothingness before – certainly not from Shawn.

Perhaps even more than his father, the kid’s a pro.

And then the rest of the sentence catches up with her.

“A mild stab wound?”

Oh boy. She watches Shawn’s eyes widen with the panic that proceeds an unquestionable blunder.

“Chief –” 

“In.”

“Chief, I really, really don’t think –”

“Inside my house. Now.”

He’s certainly uncoordinated enough that he doesn’t put up much of a fight. Karen herds him  through the door as firmly as possible and leads them in a beeline past Richard’s office toward the bathroom, ignoring the reedy stream of consciousness that spills out of Shawn’s mouth as they go.

“Oh, hey, woah, it’s been like forever since I was in here. Did you redecorate? I swear that lamp wasn’t there the last time we visited. It could be the tacos I had earlier, but I’m sensing a distinct neo-modern Chinese aesthetic going on here, Chief, which calls to mind the merits of cultural appreciation in suburban home decor – hey, is that your husband’s office? Can I meet him? Is he home? That man is a true enigma to us, Chief, and it’s leading me to believe that he must possess all the facial and personality qualities of the pop superstar Mr. Pitbull Worldwide –”

Richard is home, actually, and Karen needs to alert him to the fact that they have an unexpected house guest, so, ignoring Shawn completely, she calls out,

“Honey? Shawn Spencer’s here for a couple minutes about a work thing! I’ll go up to put Iris to bed in a second!” in the finely-honed There Are Many Layers Of Complicated To This secret married tone that Richard should probably be able to catch through the closed office door. 

“Alright,” floats out her husband’s pleasant voice. “Tell him hi from me.”

Perfect. There’s about a ninety-three percent chance he understood.

They make it to the bathroom, only stumbling slightly. Shawn says,

“-- or The Rock. Does your husband look like Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson? I really think that would make so many things about the Chief Vick family make sense –”

Karen closes the bathroom door with a snap and crosses her arms.

“Sit,” she says, in a voice that even he knows brooks no argument.

Shawn does. He looks – well, beyond uncomfortable, and more than a little bit miserable, and probably closer to completely dissociating than either of them are prepared for. Karen wonders belatedly if he's gotten any sleep at all in the last forty-eight hours.

“I’m assuming you have not been to the hospital.”

He gives her a baleful look, like he really expected better of her. She only just stops herself from rolling her eyes in response. And there’s that huge goose egg on his forehead, too. What, exactly, he got up to in between Carlton’s wedding reception and oh-eight-hundred hours this morning Karen has no idea, but he looks like someone’s run him through the world’s most aggressive industrial tumble dry cycle and spat him mercilessly back out. 

Or maybe over with a truck.

Sending a silent prayer to the universe that Iris never hit puberty and remains a sweet-tempered six-year-old forever, Karen gets to business.

“Well, I had to at least ask. Shawn. Does it need stitches?” He mumbles the answer the first time, and then looks beyond startled when she grabs him under the chin so he’ll look her in the eye. “Listen. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. But you’re going to tell me the truth. Got it?”

Shawn grimaces so hard at her words it’s almost a flinch. 

“No,” he says finally, clearly enough that she hears him. Karen raises an eyebrow. “No, I don’t think it needs stitches,” he articulates, but doesn’t meet her eye.

“Hm. Alright. I have gauze and tape in the medicine cabinet. Can I … is it alright if I pull up the sleeve of your t-shirt?”

Released from her hold, he groans and presses his face into one palm. “Chief –”

“I don’t really know what you expected, coming here! It’s not like I’m any less of a hardass than your father.”

“Yeah, but I can bitch back at my dad,” Shawn says, sounding like he’s finally realizing the magnitude of his mistake. Karen smiles grimly.

“Tough. Now pull your shirt up while I get the first aid kit.”

While Shawn proceeds to wrestle awkwardly with his t-shirt in a muted shuffle against the toilet seat, Karen rummages efficiently through the cabinet and eyes him through the bathroom mirror. He seems oddly reluctant to expose himself. In fact, in a stark contrast to his usual insistence on making his presence and contributions as obtrusively obvious as possible, Shawn seems intent on shrinking into the aforementioned Asian-flavored floral wallpaper (which does need an update, unfortunately) with all the equanimity of an anxious chameleon. Karen feels her eyebrows crease. Taking the first aid kit in hand, she brings it over and deposits it into his arms, ignoring his small startle.

“How about you hold that,” Karen says. Shawn does, against his chest, like a pillow. She walks around him and surveys the damage, antiseptic gauze in hand.

He wasn’t lying about the severity, at least. It’s a shallow thing, already mostly congealed, and has only stained his shirt in a small smattering spot of crusty brown blood.

Karen swabs at it with the alcohol using light careful fingers.

“Ow, ow ow ah –”

“Don’t be such a baby. It’s hardly a life-threatening injury.”

“Super insightful, Chief,” Shawn snaps, as genuinely sarcastic as he’s probably ever been with her, “never thought of that myself. Totally the reason why I just had to go to the hospital.”

He doesn’t pull away, but she can feel the tension radiating through his back. She blinks, one eyebrow crawling up her forehead. 

Alright then. So that’s how it’s going to be. 

“I’m assuming your father doesn’t know about this,” she says.

Shawn grunts, noncommittal. Huh. Maybe he does know, then, and has just been disallowed from doing anything about it right now.

She tosses the first used antiseptic wipe into the trash.

Goddamn four dimensional chess.

She supposes she’s never been bad at the game. She may as well work her way backwards through the moves: Guster, the most obvious node in Shawn’s turn-to-in-a-crisis-system, would never voluntarily abandon his friend in a time of need, so Karen assumes that whatever this is has either already included his support or not been made known to Gus at all yet. Henry’s likely exhausted his own usefulness in the situation, and Detective O’Hara is …

Karen has to work very hard for her hands not to pause in a way that gives away her hard-earned mental sleuthing. A bad feeling wholly unrelated to her ill-advised hangover of the day before begins to bloom at the back of her gut.

“You have really small hands, Chief.”

Shawn’s voice is notably more subdued than before.

“Do I?” 

“They’re like … little kangaroo hands. Like the mom kangaroo from Whinnie the Pooh.”

“Didn’t you know?” Karen says, not unkindly. “They’re given out at the hospital when all first-time moms leave with their baby.”

He lets out a tired little laugh, more boyish than he probably means it to be, and in spite of herself Karen feels her heart clench. She isn’t blind. In all her last seven years as the leader of their chaotic little precinct, she has never seen Juliet O’Hara look as ill as she did yesterday morning. The usually sweet-faced young woman had all the pallor of a Victorian ghost, and stood so far away from Shawn in any given room that to an unassuming observer he might have had the plague.

There are only a handful of things, Karen thinks, that could have invited that particular evolution in their dynamic. She rips the surgical tape from its canister a little bit more harshly than is strictly necessary and fights the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose between her fingers.

“So,” she says conversationally, laying the tape down in neat, gentle little strips, trying not to pinch the wound too tightly. “Any fun plans for the evening?”

Shawn sniffs. She can see him gripping his hands together over his knee from where she stands above him.

“Um, yeah, uh –” he clears his throat, “you know me, Chief. We’re working our way through a Robert Guillame marathon, which means some good old fashioned Benson, running commentary on the quality of that child acting, naturally.”

“Naturally.” 

“Then Gus and I were gonna hit up the new, the new chili cheese joint up by Hermosa, you know – they’re doing sliders –”

“Chili cheese sliders?” Karen hums, contemplative.

“Buy ‘em by the pound,” Shawn agrees. “Then I was thinking of getting a tattoo, maybe a belly button piercing, I’ve been really – really needing a change – would you let Iris get one, if she asked?”

“A tattoo?” Karen clarifies, cutting off the next piece of tape. The skin around the cut is warm to her touch but Shawn’s arms have goosepimpled. The hair at the back of his head sticks up unstyled, like he slept weirdly and couldn’t be bothered to fix it come morning.

“Of a marmoset. That’s what I’m thinking. With distinctly effeminate vibes.”

“Well, Dick hates marmosets. So I’d probably encourage her toward something else. Perhaps a sea lion.”

“Like Shabby.” The nervous note has bled into his legs again, and his earlier subdued tone has gone back to sounding strained. “Yeah, that’ll – that could be it.”

“All in one night, huh?” Karen says.

“I –” Shawn doesn’t even hiss when she presses down with a cotton gauze to cover the last of the thickened blood. His legs are properly jittering again. “I was – yeah, y-you know me, Chief, total night owl.”

“Shawn?”

“Yeah?”

“What about going home?”

Silence. Shawn doesn’t answer for a moment long and pregnant enough that Karen wonders if her question will be ignored entirely. 

Then,

“Chief,” he says finally, in an awful, tiny little voice, “I really, really fucked up.”

Finally, her hands do falter in their ministrations; as emotionally exuberant as Shawn often is, she doesn’t think she’s ever actually heard him close to tears. For a horrible moment she wonders if Shawn Spencer will suddenly start crying atop her toilet seat for reasons neither of them are capable of discussing honestly. Then she wonders if her horror makes her a terrible boss.

Boss – mother – person.

Oh, dear.

She sets down the surgical tape and lays a ginger palm over the newly-bandaged gouge in his shoulder. It’ll probably scar, but not at all badly. She doesn’t like to think about the far more obvious one just below, puckering in a violent yet unassuming divot. Another narrow miss for Henry’s boy. 

At this point there are so many of them to count, Karen has to question the statistical likelihood of the whole thing. Becoming a mathematical anomaly is, Karen can attest with confidence, not exactly the future the Lieutenant Spencer she knew dreamed of for his increasingly unmanageable teenager. 

Doing what he loved, on the other hand – absolutely. Being with a person he loved, even more so. Karen grits her teeth at the irritating web she’s spent the last six years constructing around herself and wonders if this evening right here is some kind of cosmic karma for leaving Iris in the care of nannies for the first three years of her life.

That sounds like the kind of thing those horrible parenting magazines and Karen’s mother-in-law would claim, anyway.

“Shawn,” she says slowly, because she has to at least knock this possibility off the list before risking her career in an attempt to mediate her detectives’ love lives, “did you … you weren’t – unfaithful, were you?”

“What?!” 

Shawn yanks his shoulder away and whirls around to face her with such a look of horrified betrayal on his face that it’s almost comical. 

“No!” 

Thank fucking God, Karen thinks. Aloud, she says,

“Well, I’m sorry, I had to at least ask!”

“No! No! What the hell, Chief!”

“Oh would you be quiet! I’m gathering my evidence here!”

“How could I – I would never – you’d even think that I could –”

“I know! Shawn, for God’s sake –” He’s scrambled to his feet in the cramped bathroom space, glaring, and has probably messed up all that surgical tape in the process. The half open first aid kit and his crumpled shirt press lopsided against his front and her garbage can is now full of oxidizing bits of cotton. Karen officially gives in to the urge to press her palms against her forehead. “I had to ask!” she repeats finally. “You and I both know you’re not gonna give me much else to work with, and you sounded so – so sad!” 

Shawn barks out a hysterical little laugh. Karen almost growls in frustration. 

“I am not going to risk all the very hard-earned rules I have in place without knowing for sure that my instincts aren’t wrong. Is that so hard to appreciate?”

Does it count as sound police work when the framework for your investigation is an unacknowledged lie? Karen doesn’t really know. Probably there’s another math metaphor to be made in there (you screwed your proof from the very beginning, maybe, Richard the professor would definitely have thoughts), or just a straight up joke. How to solve a case that’s cold before it ever has the chance to go live; a cover-up if she ever saw one. Unlikely that O’Hara will peep a word, and things will be a true mess for a few weeks, if she can’t make an educated guess about it. And no one will be explaining anything to Carlton, either …

Right before their goddamn audit, Karen thinks, aggrieved. She wonders if Henry considered this in his calculus. Send Shawn over, have her deal with him. Offer a huge unspoken you’re gonna be walking into a shitstorm tomorrow canary for her perennially chaotic mess of a coal mine. 

She can’t help but feel begrudgingly grateful, but that doesn’t mean she and he won’t be having words about this later.   

“Jesus, Karen,” Shawn mutters, pressing his face back into his free hand. Karen shakes her head and squares her shoulders.

“Well then! Back to the issue. You fucked up.”

“You know what? I can’t talk about this with you.”

“Oh, Mr. Spencer, I assure you I am more than well aware.”

Shawn blinks at her between his fingers, looking genuinely confused for the first time since he showed up at her door. 

Karen does not bother to clear up his confusion; it’s better this way, anyhow.

“Will you be sleeping at Gus’s place or your father’s?” she asks, crossing her arms.

“I’m – I don’t –” Shawn doesn’t meet her eye. The earlier thread of anxiety is back. “I wasn’t …”

So, neither. 

“Put your shirt back on,” she says. “We’re relocating to the living room.”

“Chief –”

“That was an order, Mr. Spencer.”

The living room is as quiet and mundane as it was an hour ago. It’s past Iris’s bedtime – she’ll have to go up, and soon at that. Karen seats her guest, retrieves a mug and a bag of chamomile from the kitchen, and removes the fluffy throw blanket from the basket behind the couch on her way back in. He’s deflated completely by the time the tea and blanket are set in front of him. Small and exhausted. Caught. It’s a horrible way to think about it. But she can’t avoid the hundred yard stare – Karen has seen it one too many times in people only just realizing they’re about to go away for life.

“Shawn,” she says, firm as she can make it. “Drink the tea. You’re dehydrated.”

“I’m … what?”

“Your lips are dry. You shouldn’t be dehydrated with a concussion.”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, and Karen suddenly wonders if he’s going to get up and leave. She has experience with these things – she knows a runner when she sees one.

“I might as well have,” Shawn finally whispers.

She doesn’t catch it the first time. “What?”

“I – I might as well ha – Chief, I …” Deep shuddering breaths. He’s finally shutting down, she realizes. She can’t send him back out like this; Henry would give her the stink eye for a month.

Goddamn Spencers and their goddamn irritating overcomplicated lives.

Karen pushes the tea directly into his hands and tilts her chin so she can meet Shawn’s eye. He’s still lucid enough that she doesn’t think he’ll start hyperventilating, but now that the outrage and adrenaline has worn off, the symptoms of shock are pretty hard to miss. “Shawn,” she says again, and wills for him to understand.

“What if she – what if I never –” He can’t get the full sentence out. He looks at her, eyes wide and terrified.

Life sentence, Karen thinks again. The messy stack of files Shawn brought over sits almost unimportantly on the coffee table between them and a memory comes to her, unbidden, of words penned carefully in the corner of a modified police report that she pulled the minute the door closed on the McCallum case seven years ago. 

Date: May 4th, 1995. Reporting Officer, Spencer, Lt. H. Perpetrator a caucasian male, brown hair, five foot nine, insists on wearing those stupid earrings just to spite me. What the hell do you want me to write here, Chief? Spent two hours in the fucking principal’s office convincing them not to expel him one month off from graduation. All that effort, and I still booked the kid. It’s gonna follow him for life, and it’s gonna be me that did it to him. For life. You think he’ll ever forgive me? He’s the greatest thing in my pathetic little world and he keeps breaking my heart, and I can’t even properly accept that it’s my fault. 

How’s that for a fucking crime.

She needs to go put her daughter to bed. It’s the thought that keeps running through her head, oddly enough, like a strange antidote to the impotent anger and heartbreak and frustration she’s feeling for the people under her care.

With all the notes she took in that little workbook, she still let herself become complicit in the painstaking, convoluted resolution of Henry’s mistakes without accounting for all the variables.  

Richard’s footsteps sound muffled in the next room; he’s made his way upstairs in Karen’s absence. She needs to go. She wants to hear the soft and sleepy love you Mama that with her unpredictable hours and regular long nights isn’t nearly routine enough.

“Shawn,” she says evenly. “Do you love her?”

It’s hard to reconcile the smarmy kid who tried to barter with her for twelve hundred a day with the devastated young man sitting on the couch in front of her.

“Chief …” he starts, barely above a whisper.

“Good. Then she’ll see that. Detective O’Hara is a smart and observant woman. What she chooses to do next is her decision, but … you might be – well, comforted by the fact that she’ll know that – truth.”

Shawn stares at her. The tea steams in front of him, cooling in increments. She takes a deep breath and gets to her feet, patting his uninjured shoulder brusquely. 

“I have to go check on Iris. When I come back down, I can drive you to the Psych office.”

Iris is fast asleep when she gets there. A library book lays open face down over her stomach, and her soft brown hair fans out against the pillow, silhouetted by the soft glow of the unicorn nightlight in the wall above her. Karen turns off the bedside lamp, tucks her daughter in, and kisses her forehead. Just before she leaves, she hears it: murmured, half-awake.

“Love you, Mama.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Karen goes back to her living room, car keys in hand. She’s planned her next move in the driver’s seat enough times throughout her career that it shouldn’t be too hard. 

[harlowtales]

Jack’s back-to-school day has him feeling worse than Y/N 🤒

“Baby I can’t drop Patricia off. I’m running a fever” you said coughing into your arm.

“Keep that to yourself baby. I got this. I’ll deal with Patricia.” Jack said keeping you at arms length. “Were you sick last night when I was all in it missionary?”

“Shut up Jack!!” You said throwing a pillow at him

“Ok fine but now I’m worried because I was all up in that and you probably were contagious.” Jack continued seriously

“If you don’t get your daughter ready and off to school I will sneeze and cough all over you.” You threatened

“That’s nasty.” Jack said as he dodged another pillow flying at his head

“Daddy I need my hair done. I want the princess thingys” Patricia said firmly. She wanted to look just right for her first day of school. She brought Jack her container of bobbles and a comb with some detangling spray. Those were all the things you grabbed to make her look pretty.

“Bubby I don’t know how to do that. Let’s do a ponytail.” Jack reasoned looking into her big brown eyes like yours but not liking how she folded her arms like him when he’s waiting for his games to load. “Ok, princess thingy’s it is” he relented as he found Patricia downright intimidating.

She looked in the mirror afterwards and was actually ok with how it looked. “Not bad Daddy. You tried. Maybe when mommy gets better she can teach you.” Patricia said kindly patting him on the shoulder in consolation.

Jack couldn’t believe how much this little kindergartener ran his life and told him like it is. Patricia was a straight shooter. She looked like both of you but her perfect ringlets, glasses, overbite, mouth, and freckles on her arms was all her dad. Her personality was all Jack. She was light hearted and kind, but what Patricia did not like that was it. Stubborn as her father. She knew Jack had tried to please her with her hair, so in her loving him so much, she decided to be kind and make him feel good with a peck on the cheek.

“Where’s Duane daddy we need to go.” Patricia said putting the last items in her little backpack. She fully expected security to accompany her to school as she was used to having security everywhere she went.

“I don’t know pumpkin but he’ll be here soon” Jack said making sure she had everything for the day.

“I’m going to be late for school.” Patricia said her eyes welling up. “It’s my special day…” she said starting to cry and it was about 20 seconds before she full on started bawling. It was not drama Jack wanted as he told you he had everything under control. Your time together last night was make up sex because you were upset he wasn’t doing enough around the house and with Patricia, so he didn’t want to mess up a simple thing like school drop off.

“Ok ok ok sheesh I’ll call Duane and see where he’s at” Jack said in his stern way but Patricia knew she had him wrapped around her finger.

Duane pulled up while Jack was calling and confirmed he was outside. He looked every bit like security which Patricia loved. She had developed a fear of monsters lately and felt like Duane kept her safe because he kept her family safe, and most of all her whole world…her daddy. Duane had on his signature Black shades, black TShirt and black pants. His arms were tattooed and huge. Patricia looked like a doll in his arms as he scooped her up.

“Yayy!!!!” She said as she ran up to him and he picked her up swirling her around.

“Is that a new dress? It’s so pretty!” He said smiling which he rarely did.

“It’s new, Gramma got it for me. Do you like my shoes?” She said doing a little dance as he put her gently back on the ground.

“Slow down princess you dance better than daddy already” Duane said ribbing Jack placing Patricia in her booster seat in the back.

Jack gave Duane a side glance as he fumbled with buckling her in. “I killed the MTV awards. Brandy was impressed.” Jack defended himself

“My daddy is nice. It’s ok he can’t dance, right daddy? Mommy can teach you.” Patricia said

“Seems like I have a lot to learn from mommy.” Jack said furrowing his brow as he struggled with the seat.

“Whatchu doing bro? It’s like this. Patricia don’t like the strap coming too close to her neck.” Duane said as he stepped in to adjust what Jack was trying to do.

By this time in the morning Jack was feeling incompetent. When it came to Patricia everyone did everything so much better than him for her…so he thought. He didn’t know how much his little girl appreciated when he was home to do the little things like take her to school. This was her first day of kindergarten. She had gone to daycare and pre-school. Jack wanted her well socialized.

He had just come from a press run for his new movie, making it back in time for this special day, but he had missed many a special day which had you frustrated.

Patricia started singing First Class in the backseat. Jack felt given the day and the occasion that he would play it for her. He didn’t like listening to music in the car that much but for Patricia of course he made an exception. You called while they were on their way.

“Hey baby.” Jack yelled through to the speaker “She’s fine and on her way.”

“I’m so sorry I’m missing this pumpkin boo” you croaked mid cough trying to call out to your little girl.

“Has your fever come down?” Jack asked concerned. He didn’t know how long he could look after Patricia single handedly while you were sick, and he saw now how much just getting her ready for school took, now he had to rush and get a few things done before pick up.

“It’s all good. Took some Tylenol and resting” you said

“Good. I love you baby. I don’t know how you do everything and make it look easy.” Jack said to you feeling truly grateful.

“Oh you’re welcome Mr.Harlow” you said with a smile “Patricia baby have the bestest day!” You called out to her enthusiastically

“That’s “best” mommy, “bestest” isn’t a word. Maybe you should go back to school too mommy.” Patricia said seriously making Duane cover his mouth to hide his laughter.

“Ok Jack leaving you with your mini-me bye!” You said and signed off

“Baby…no don’t leave me!” Jack said giggling

It wasn’t the usual scene of a little girl being dropped off to school with two men that were over 6feet tall with shades on and one looking like he was guarding the president. She was going to a private school with other rich kids but there weren’t any kids with famous parents at the school. Kentucky wasn’t a place with a lot of celebrities so Jack got stared at wherever he went but people for the most part kept their distance to respect his privacy. Kindergarteners however were a different story.

Kids ran up to them wanting Duane to pick them up and ride on his shoulders and they were trying to do the same to Jack. They were like giants in a sea of ants who were all over them, like little koalas climbing trees.

“Ok everyone that is enough!” The teacher said and they all giggled and stopped their unified assault, sliding down and plopped to the ground. Patricia was just looking around distracted by her new classroom and not understanding what the big deal was.

Mothers were embarrassed they were dropping their kids off with messy top buns and yoga pants not expecting Jack to be there but you instead, and certainly not a towering security guard. Both the men felt like specimens under a glass as women looked at them shyly and teachers melted as they passed by.

Patricia’s teacher Miss. Smith was having none of it. “Settle down children!” She said exasperated already.

Duane put his fingers in his mouth and whistled and they all stopped and got onto the carpet sitting like little ducks. It was like magic.

The teacher was in shock. “Can I borrow him for the day?!” She asked Jack about Duane.

“You can borrow me if you want too” Duane said flirting with the teacher and she blushed.

“No Miss Smith Duaney is mine, but you can get your own bodyguard right daddy?” Patricia said physically getting in between Miss Smith and Duane to which they all held back giggles.

“P” as Jack called Patricia and stooped down to chat with her on her level. “This is big girl time. If you need daddy or Duane you call. Mommy is sick today.” Jack said nervously and getting emotional.

“Daddy I’ll be fine there’s no monsters here.” Patricia said reasonably. “Duaney you can go. I’m ok”

“Ok princess. I’ll see you later.” Duane said “I’ll see you later too Miss Smith have a nice day”

“Ok big guy time to go.” Jack said ushering Duane out of the room as Duane was stuck looking at Miss Smith like a little boy with a crush on the teacher “Goodbye kids! Bye P.” Jack said waving to all the children and blowing Patricia a kiss to which she waved back slightly embarrassed with a smile focused on Miss Smith.

Patricia liked Miss Smith already as she was warm and friendly like you, and like Jack she was competitive making sure she sat right in front so Miss Smith could see her.

“Dang, teachers are kinda cute.” Duane said wistfully as he looked around walking through the hall as they left. Every teacher was pretending to be busy not noticing them walk past their doors.

I’m available for drop off every day. I’m here for you boss.” Duane said saluting Jack

“Thank you for your service.” Jack said rolling his eyes.

Back at home Jack looked tired and it was only 10:00AM. He sat down on the couch and breathed a deep sigh putting his feet up and pecking you on the cheek. You had spent the morning wrapped up in a blanket and nursing your cold. You were starting to feel better.

“You look worse than me. What happened?” You asked in disbelief

“Kindergarteners are fucking insane.” Jack said looking like he needed a hard drink “I can’t believe I have to go back in just a few hours to pick her up.”

“Sounds rough.” You laughed in between coughing which was milder now

“You sound better baby.” Jack said sweetly as he placed a hand on your forehead to check if your temper went down.

“I do and thank you for dropping her off. I’m so sorry I missed her moment.” You said regretfully

“Well it was time for me to have a big moment with her.” Jack said swallowing a lump of guilt in his throat. “I’ll be here more, I’ll do better I swear.”

“I know you will. Thanks for hearing me out last night. The last thing I ever want to do is make you feel bad.” You said looking deeply into his blue eyes that always seemed to see into your soul.

“You’re right Y/N. It’s not all about work all the time. Not anymore with you and P.” Just then the puppy barked as if to say Jack forgot someone and jumped into his lap.

“Oh and Y/N just for the record, keep Duane away from Miss Smith.” Jack said laughing as he snuggled up to you and pups.

@itsyagirljaz @jackharlow502

[kitorin]

journal.

in which, itoshi rin's midnight writing exposes what he's kept concealed from you.

contents. itoshi rin x reader, 2.878 k words, fluff, angst (in the past), itoshi backstory spoilers (mixed with a few headcanons), 1st person rin pov for a bit (journal entry), regular highschool au

a/n. is this my best? no. but is it the best i have for today? yes. happy birthday to rin <3 after assignments are done i'll definitely rewrite this (i gave up on proofreading)

10 / 09 / 2023 : SUNDAY, 12:04 am - 3:21 am

Solitude has never been a foreigner.

In fact, he's quite a familiar individual, an old companion that never seems to leave.

Even before Nii chan left for Spain, solitude was still there for me. During class I wouldn't utter a word to anyone else unless necessary, and contrariwise for said classmates. People still spoke to me; just not to the extent that they'd know what my favourite foods were, or what I liked to watch in my free time, not even bothering with it. I've never been invited to hang out with anyone after school, or been to someone else's house (not that I particularly cared, I was just sure that I was the only one).

But I was okay with it. I didn't want, or need anyone else when Nii chan bought me ice blocks, giving me the bigger piece as we'd watch the sun's warm hues bleed into the sky; the saccharine iciness contrasting how warm is was to be swallowed by sunlight together. Dad took us fishing a lot, he's always been well acquainted with the sea, taking us to locations well populated by bream; my favourite. On our way home we'd harvest kelp (Nii chan likes it in rice, salted) and take photos together on our yacht, admiring how the sun greets the world farewell, sinking into the aquamarine. Mum makes amazing food, I'm constantly astonished at how she manages to memorise every preference, from my love for ochazuke to being able to pour the perfect amount of tea; the rice never becomes too soggy (even I can't pour the exact amount I like). Solitude was close to me, but my family were closer.

There's a lot I could say about them, they've done more than remember what I love and ensuring I was happy; I'm thankful they've delivered the right for me to be comforted, to have a shoulder to cry on, to be able to freely ramble on about whatever fascinated me.

I've always been happy, even if I'm alone outside of the walls I call home. Because whether I laughed my heart out or sobbed to the point I couldn't form a coherent sentence, I'd always come home running to my family. Nothing can beat dinner; where we all relish mum's food, ask each other about our days' and offer solace or advice when necessary.

I miss that. Terribly, to the point my heart aches.

I knew that Nii chan's departure to Europe (Spain, to be exact) would change a lot. I'd have to score without his guidance, walk home alone and buy my own popsicles. Dinner time would have one less soul to laugh with, and home would have one less to embrace.

I just never expected it to be painful change. I never predicted that his return would result in losing us entirely. I didn't think his homecoming would cause my immortal resentment towards the snow, or how my eyes prickle a bit at the mere thought of an ice block. I'd say it was the worst thing that had ever happened to me, separation from him following it on the list of my worst experiences.

Solitude avoided me at home, but wasn't enough.

One time on the way home, I was overhearing the team's conversations (nothing particularly new really) and it was a discussion about the future. It was honestly surprising to find out only some of us intended to become soccer players; Nagi would rather stream or compete in professional gaming, Kurona wants to study marine biology in uni, and Yukimiya wants to give acting a go along with his modelling career. Even Isagi has a plan for if professional soccer isn't an option. He said he wanted to help others achieve their dreams if he fails to do so himself.

I remained silent as always, but had a lot more thoughts racing through my mind. Retreating to my room immediately that night, my first thought was to lie in bed, to neglect the clips I planned to analyse, to ignore muscle training for today and to slack off a bit. That's when I realized how sad the life I was living. I was sad because I was reminded of my reality.

I'm a mere myriad of distinguished achievements, though a hideous attempt of replicating genius Itoshi Sae. I'm a collection of formidable accomplishments, basking in the spotlight of glory and honour. The trophies and awards adorning my room prove it, standing tall with pride and flaunting my hard work.

That didn't mean anything. I had remained in a constant cycle of training, eating, and sleeping. My teammates were just as ambitious yet still worked hard on other things; Yukimiya enjoys modelling and Reo has a passion for economics, That must've been where I was lacking.

That's how I ended up writing again. It was an attempt to break out of this cyclical torture of constant training and sports.

I don't know how I remembered it, but I found my notebook from primary, all the stories messily scrawled yet legible. Scarlet adorned narratives birthed from child-like imagination, eulogising the prose, even though I almost flinched out of embarrassment.

Flipping through the pages, I had found the paragraph my teacher left me, insisting that I keep writing. Obviously, I never did. After getting into soccer I ignored everything school related, and would've found words on a page foolish anyways.

Many years later, I finally followed that advice.

The end result wasn't pretty. I paused a lot, struggled a lot, and almost gave up, a lot. It may have been hideous, but it was mine. A piece birthed from curiosity and memories from the past turned into another attempt. Another attempt morphed into extensive reading, I wanted to observe what was considered worthwhile or meaningless.

Writing rewove the early nights into late night reading, fully immersed in the author's thoughts translated into prose. Reading was the push to giving academics a go. Academics pulled me out of the endless cycle of soccer, there was more to life than training and diet regulation.

Books I can read. Words I can write. Exams I can study for and sports I can practice. Weights I can lift and competitions I can train for.

But to be loved, is so difficult.

It's not like an exam that you can study for and simply memorise the answers to. Or a match that has the security of a referee and reinforced rules. It's not something that can be guaranteed with a mentor.

People treat Isagi to his favourite whenever he has a bad day (he likes kintsuba). People advocate their favourite novels to Yukimiya and Chigiri, even going as far as memorising their preferences to curate their recommendations flawlessly. It must be nice, for someone to invest that sort of effort in you, even if it's simply remembering a hobby.

As my peers savoured the allure of love, estrangement and desolation constantly haunted me; a pest habituating the sleepless nights where I try to escape with a cup of coffee that's long gone cold.

It's lukewarm, praying for another's attention, care and love, to be hungry for one's time. I pathetically plead whoever manipulating my fate to provide me some sort of human connection. I shouldn't be so hopeful of others, yet I find myself dying of curiosity; what would it be like for someone to remember my birthday? Or tell me about the horror movie they adored?

I despise solitude's clinginess. But I hate how it makes me sob endlessly when no one watches.

I have myself. I have my thoughts which I've transcribed to oeuvre. I have the pile of books resting on my bedside table which sleep alongside with me. I have the trophies and awards I've won, I'll always appreciate my own talent and diligence, even if playing soccer brought me so much pain.

I think I'm somewhat pretty. I find my prominent eyelashes special to me, it's something unique to both me and Nii chan. My physique isn't too bad, either. I like the way my legs look, and my shoulders as I dry my hair.

I've always been proud of myself. I've always been enough and I always will be. Just not for others.

That's why I never expected my bond with solitude to be severed so easily. Especially because of y/n out of all people.

I still don't get how it happened. The oblivion to their presence became a peculiar first impression. An odd first meeting turned into abrupt yet regular greetings amidst hallways. Soon, I was sitting with them in every class, passing notes during tedious lessons and discussing our favourite media on the bus ride home.

Before I knew it, passionate rambles about books turned into watching movies together in my room. Whenever they greeted me their friendly wave was replaced with a tight hug, passing notes in class were accompanied with subtle kisses on the cheek.

Our relationship as friends was reimagined to lovers.

Something must've possessed me to blurt out the stupid crush I had on them, and I thank whatever drove me to do that. As awkward as I was it doesn't compare to the skip of my heartbeat when they accepted my feelings.

It's been almost a year since I met them, yet I still feel hot whenever they hold my hand, and flush red at every compliment they whisper. I still find myself stuttering sometimes whenever they're showing me a new outfit they've styled.

I love the way they smile, the creases of joy that adorn the outer corner of their eyes, and how they squint with glee and the sweet, melodious laughter that accompanies it; how breathless they sound whilst laughing. The expression they wear when deep in thought fascinates me, even if it's midway through an exam or them simply observing a video Bachira sent them. I adore their late night thoughts they text me at 3 am, the fatigue itching my eyes seem to evaporate when I notice their name on the notification. I treasure the notes we've scrawled on spare sheets of paper, they're still in between the pages of my books.

Even now, they're sleeping soundly in my bed, arms wrapped around the plush I bought them; I keep getting distracted by the sight of them so relaxed, chest rising up and down with each breath.

I would die for them. Because now I don't need to pretend to be invested on my phone to look less lonely. Now, I don't need to put my bag on the seat next to me to make it look like I sit alone by choice. I don't have to persuade the teacher to let me do group projects alone, or have to observe others with jealousy. Someone defends me from disparaging comments.

Because now, I'm not alone.

7:15 am

THE ENTRY COMES TO AN END, AND EMBARASSMENT DUSTS Rin's face a faint tint of pink. His eyes avoid contact with yours— as he waits for your input his latest piece.

"Well? What do you think?"

You're not sure where to start. You've always known about his strained relationship with his older brother, and how his friendship with his teammates wasn't the same in the beginning. But he never explained it in detail; you wouldn't've guessed that he had some sort of chionophobia, or even cried because he felt so secluded from others. The thought of him concealing his tears and pain from the rest of the world made your eyes prickle and sends your heart racing miserably.

"Doesn't matter—" He reaches for the notebook, closing it and tossing it onto his desk. "Forget it, you didn't see anything." He plops backwards again, head hitting the pillow and groaning as he covers his face with his forearm. "It was shit anyways, I'll rip it out and toss it later."

"It wasn't."

Rin stays silent.

You lie down, mimicking his current position and cup his cheeks with your hand. "You'll never be alone again—, I promise you that." Your voice falters ever so slightly, the thought of his pain makes you feel weak in the knees and sick to the stomach. "You're more than enough, you always have and always will be. You don't need anyone's validation to be beautiful, you never did."

Rin sighs, "I'm only like that because of you." Yet something seems to throb in his heart, the small but overpowering part of him that insists he requires another's approval to be important— someone finally proving that wrong.

"That's not true."

"Yes it is, our classmates still loathe me, so do people who barely see or speak to me." There was no lie in that; but it wasn't Rin's fault. "Yoichi and the others only spend time with me because of you."

"I was only the push for them to speak to you, you know they've always cared, they were just too nervous to speak to you. As competitive as he gets, Yoichi really admires you, to the point he gets so heated and ends up rambling about your skills." That's a secret that was supposed to remain in your private messages, but Yoichi doesn't need to know.

Satisfaction momentarily appears on Rin's face at the thought of his rival's great respect, though it doesn't last very long.

"He's my teammate so it's expected... everyone I speak to at school seems to have something against me, even our English teacher." The mistreatment at school is undeniable, it's not exactly bullying but there's no respect or human decency in how people behave towards him.

"Rin, love, you've done nothing wrong, hate isn't always rational. There will always be people who can't stand seeing others more successful, and that's not your fault."

"Really?" His eyes light up; despite having a sophisticated and cold demeanour all the time, he looks like a child again, hope dances in his wide eyes.

"Really." Your fingers take advantage of the opportunity and pinch his cheeks gently. "Don't listen to all those stupid rumours and assumptions, idiot. I'd fight anyone who tries to hurt you and win every time."

When your fingers let go he immediately kisses you, and it leaves you breathless; the way he pulls you in flexes his well toned biceps and his hand supports your head.

"Thank you." Rin whispers, pulling away a bit. "Thank you for appreciating me. Thank you for everything." It's a rare occurrence for him to sound so frail, same goes for the tremble of his bottom lip.

"Of course, I love you more than anything."

"I love you too." It's escorted by a peck on your nose, and a soft expression sculpted on his face.

Before Rin can throw a blanket over the two of you again, you interrupt.

"You shouldn't throw that entry away." You still haven't forgotten his initial intention with it. "I don't get why you think it's shit."

"It's rushed. And it's just me waffling on about my feelings and the past. There's no proofreading, and it's rushed. It's not even complete either."

"That's the whole point of writing, no? It's the expression of our words and thoughts." You reach towards his desk to pick up the notebook. "Not everything has to be written in one sitting, too."

Rin doesn't bother stopping you from looking through the notebook at this point. "It's still stupid. It's just that I had the urge and motivation to write in the dead of night."

"Well. I like it."

Rin's stoic expression crumbles, revealing the bashful side he keeps concealed from the world. "Then that's good enough for me." The red on his cheeks tell you that you've won the argument.

You turn back to the entry page, impressed with his barely legible yet pretty handwriting. "You should've slept instead."

"I don't get tired anyways." He's quickly betrayed by the yawn clawing out of his throat.

"Liar. Why would you stay up writing so late... your sleep is important you know?"

"Because you are love itself. I won't get a wink of sleep if it means I can think and write about you instead." Rin's pulls you in again, tossing his notebook elsewhere as he leans in. "I promise I'll finish that entry, no— I'll write a book about you one day."

"Writing this, writing that, sleep first dumbass." A smile tugs at your lips as you pull Rin back into the position you were cuddling in a few hours ago. Even though you were the one who slept a lot more, fatigue itched your eyes, and a yawn spilled out too.

In response, Rin tosses a blanket over the two of you, whispering good night as you begin to nod off a bit. He should rest too, he has training tomorrow and has to go to the gym as well.

The Itoshi Rin from before would've slept immediately. In fact, he wouldn't've stayed up in the first place, let alone date someone. But the Itoshi Rin now instead stares at you, admiring each and every feature of yours. You're his savior, the luminescent moon irradiating his world, guiding him away from the grasps of solitude and embracing him with love instead.

Tagging: @yuzurins (yumi you inspired this fic btw lol)

© kitorin : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

[jostystyles]

i can still see it all | qh

a/n: this is my entry for @wyattjohnston summer fic exchange! @wildrangers this is for you love! i hope you love it <3 im so sorry it took me forever, i had covid and other life happenings that set me back. i picked daylight from the list of songs you gave me, and this was born. enjoy love ��

They say when you love someone, you’ll know. There will be a moment of realization, a sort of ‘ah’ moment. Quinn has never really had that. Sure, he’s dated girls and thrown out the L word a few times, but he wasn’t really sure he meant it. Obviously, he loves his mom, dad, and brothers. Love, to him, was all black and white. It was all good or all bad. But sometimes, when you’ve been asleep so long in a 20 year dark night, the scream of color can come along and change your life for the better. (Y/N) came into his life in the most obscure way possible. He met her at the bar 5 minutes after he was dumped by his ex. After she laughed in his face and told him she was, she bought him a drink. After that, he doesn’t know when or even how it happened. Suddenly she was in his life everyday, and his friends became hers. Jack and Luke took to her instantly, and his mom liked having another girl to talk to. The one thing he did know was that he fell in love with her. He was starting to understand that love wasn’t quite black and white, but it could be golden. She was his muse, the one thing that kept him going when he felt like stopping. Even if she didn’t know it.

Quinn was always working. It was no surprise, being an NHL star. Between games, practice, charity events, and just existing. It was exhausting sometimes. He loved it, and wouldn’t change it for the world, but sometimes he just needed a break. When summer first hit and he was still in Vancouver, sometimes he wouldn’t leave his apartment for days. He had to take a break, just to recharge his social battery. (Y/N) knew this. Which is why she came over to make sure he made an effort to eat and have some sort of human interaction.

Unlocking the door with bags in hand, (Y/N) stumbled into his apartment. Brock was away on vacation, so Quinn graciously offered to watch Milo and Coolie for a few days. She heard little footsteps running towards her and looked down to see a dog wagging its tail and smiling up at her. “Oh Milo,” She sighed. “What are we going to do with him?” She finished, glancing around the apartment. It was messy, she wouldn't lie. Quinn was a messy person even if he didn't seem like it. Figuring he was napping as he didn’t answer her texts, she began to clean up his kitchen a bit. As she scrubbed the counters of the residue from last night’s dinner, she glanced at the wall of photos diagonal to her point of view. The first one that caught her eye was a family photo from Quinn’s draft day, his crooked smile reflected on the faces of his family members as they surrounded him in his newly adorned Canucks jersey. To the right of that one, was one she took of him, Brock, and Petey at a family skate event a few years back. The last one to catch her eye was her favorite. It was of her and Quinn, taken last summer at the lake in Michigan. She was on his back, both their faces flushed with sun and noses scrunched up in laughter. To an outsider, they could easily be mistaken for a couple.

As she finished cleaning up, (Y/N) began to walk down the hallway, dog in tow and a bag of takeout in her hands. “Knock knock, I’m coming in whether you like it or not.” She exclaimed in a sing-song tone once she reached his room. She couldn’t see it, but Quinn smiled. He loved the sound of her voice.

“I knew you’d show up sooner or later.” He answered, standing up from his bed and grabbing a shirt from the floor.

“Well, I have to make sure you keep yourself alive, don’t I?” (Y/N) giggled. She looked as beautiful as she always did, her sweater falling off her shoulders and her ripped jean shorts hugging her curves in just the right way. Two long french braids fell just past her shoulders. Her tan sandals scraped gently across the floor. She didn't like to wear heels. “They make me feel like a skyscraper Quinn, I’m too damn tall for them.” She always says. Quinn didn't realize he was staring until she finally said something.

“Earth to Quinton. Hello?” She called to him, waving her hands in front of his face. “I’m sorry what, I keep getting lost in you.” Did I just say that out loud? Shit. He thought to himself.

“What?” (Y/N) replied, blushing.

“Nothing. Just forget I said anything.” Quinn said, rushing out of the room into the kitchen.

“Wait! Don’t lie to me Quinn, what did you mean when you said that?” she said, following him.

She wasn’t sure of what she heard when he said it. It gave her a sense of false hope when he said it. Sometimes she wanted to scream out how much she loved him, but was afraid he didn’t feel the way she did. This was one of those times where she thought it to be true that maybe, just maybe, he loved her back. If she was honest, she loved him from the moment she met him. He was an idiot, but a lovable one. She never understood how anyone could stand to break his heart, even on the night they first met. Love, to her, was something that she once believed to be burning red. It ignites a fire in your heart, body, and soul, and burns for that one person. When she met Quinn, she wanted him to be that person more than anything. As they grew closer, she realized he was. But the love she held for him wasn’t the one she always dreamed of. It was different. It shone a bright golden hue, and encapsulated everything about him. (Y/N) was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of Quinn’s voice.

“Can we please just forget that I said anything, (Y/N), please?” Quinn said, turning around to look at her. He began to walk away when she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her. Looking up at him, she said softly, “I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking. You look at me like I’m the only other person on this earth. Don’t you realize that I look at you the same way too?” Quinn was processing what she just said to him, his heart beating a mile a minute. He glanced at their hands intertwined at the side. Neither of them let go. Finally he gained the courage to say something back.

Looking into her eyes, he confessed to her. “I think I’m in love with you and that scares me half to death. No, scratch that, I know I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you ever since the day I met you. I don’t want to look at anything else now that I saw you.” She didn’t say anything back. She wrapped her free hand around his neck and pulled his face down to her height and kissed him. It was exactly the way they both pictured it would be like. They kissed lasted for what seemed like an eternity, until they finally broke apart.

Their heads were pressed against each other, just looking into each other's eyes. (Y/N) was the first one to speak. “I’m yours.” That was all she needed to say for Quinn to know that she loved him too. And while he was sure of it, there was a part of him that hesitated.

“Are you sure about this? Like, are you sure about me?” He wondered aloud.

(Y/N) stared at him, confused. “I just confessed my love for you in the cheesiest and most embarrassing way possible and you’re asking me if I’m sure? Quinn, I know you’re not that dumb.”

Quinn laughed. “No, it’s just like, I know you love me. And I love you too, but like, I don’t want to fuck this up. I’m not really good at this kind of stuff” he confessed, not making eye contact with her out of embarrassment.

(Y/N) put her finger under his chin and pushed it up. “Hey, look at me. It’s me you’re talking to. You don’t have to try with me. Just being the way you are is enough. Love is weird. But the best part is when you get to love your best friend. And that’s us. You’ve just got to step into the daylight, you know? Let it all go. We can figure the rest out on our own. Just let it go.”

Quinn kissed her again. As he was getting older, he wanted to be defined by the things he loved. And he loved (Y/N). She’s his daylight, afterall.

tagging: @2manytabsopen @lam-ila @laurenairay @comphy-and-cozy @comphyjost @smileysvech @tinyhockey @prettytoxicrevolver @hotanddistraught

[muzaktomyears]

John Lennon by his friends and son: ‘He got eight years more than Jesus’

The former Beatle would have been turning 84 this autumn. Now his son Sean and those who knew him best are keeping his spirit alive with the rerelease of his classic solo album Mind Games

Everyone wonders what John Lennon could have become. When he was murdered in New York on December 8, 1980, the 40-year-old was in his post-Beatles prime. The superb album Double Fantasy had just come out and he was plotting a world tour. His second son, Sean, whom he took time off to bring up with his wife, Yoko Ono, was five, and Lennon was feeling inspired. Seven solo records since the Beatles had split ten years earlier; a reconciliation with Paul McCartney.

“Everyone gets the time they get, and he got eight years longer than Jesus,” says Bob Gruen, the rock’n’roll legend who took photographs of everyone who mattered in the 1970s. He captured Lennon and Ono’s time in New York and is confident and chatty — until conversation turns to what Mark Chapman took outside the Dakota that day.

“John should be alive now,” Gruen says, clearly still affected 44 years on. Gruen had spent the weekend with Lennon before he died and was developing his photos when he got the call. “He didn’t die in an accident or of a disease. His death broke my trust in everything. He was grounded at the time. He learnt a lot from raising his son, about enjoying his life and being sober. Then I heard he was dead.”

Lennon would have been 84 in October — and at least we are left with his songs. But legacy is complicated. Over the years McCartney has stolen his crown as chief creative in the Beatles. Partly because Lennon is no longer here to speak. Also because, during Peter Jackson’s 2021 film, Get Back, Lennon was largely stoned, while the charismatic McCartney conjured up magic. So to redress the balance, this month’s innovative rerelease of Lennon’s Mind Games (1973) pushes design and immersion in ways few box sets have before. It features new mixes — some that amplify Lennon’s voice, others that emphasise the instruments.

It is the work of Sean, 48, who has been at the forefront of the Mind Games rerelease. Lennon’s younger son is a musician and artist based in New York near his mother, 91. “The title track is one of the most beautiful songs ever written,” he says.

The songs answer questions Sean never got to ask his father. Despite being very young when his father was around, Sean does have memories of him — talking, watching TV, playing guitar and saying, “Good night, Sean.” The song Aisumasen (I’m Sorry) on the record is an apology from Lennon to Ono.

“One thing that distinguishes my dad’s solo career,” Sean says, “is how personal his lyrics became. It is like a diary, and it is my duty to bring attention to my father’s music. Not just my duty to him, but a duty to the world. With the world as it is now, people have forgotten so many things that I never imagined could be forgotten. I refuse to let that happen to this music — it means too much to me.”

Two years before Mind Games came out, Lennon moved to New York and met Gruen. Living in New York was simpler for him and Ono. They were hounded in Britain. “One paper called Yoko ugly,” Gruen recalls. “But in New York they were just treated as the quirky artists who came to town.”

Gruen’s eyes light up. “He was just funnier than everyone else,” he says. “I’d have loved him on Twitter, he was so cool with one-liners.” He smiles. “And, also, he learnt to cook. I’d always try to go to the Dakota for mealtimes.” What sort of food? “John used to be a meat and potatoes guy, but he met [the actress] Gloria Swanson in the vegetable store and she gave him a book that acted as a way into a macrobiotic diet from a western one. He got really into healthy food, baking vegetables and steaming fish.”

And this is the frustration. In the late 1970s Lennon was cleaning up his act. For himself, for Sean — a son he was involved with, as opposed to his first child, Julian. He had changed, from the man who went on his fabled “Lost Weekend” in Los Angeles in 1973. The weekend actually ran for months, during which Lennon left Ono, on Ono’s suggestion, for their assistant, May Pang, then 23. After Lennon went back to Ono, Pang carried on in the music business and married the producer Tony Visconti, but the Lost Weekend era remains her headline. During that time Lennon enjoyed chaotic recording sessions with Phil Spector. “I wondered if he’d ever make it back to New York,” Gruen says. “I thought he might get a place in Hawaii, or just die.” But Lennon returned in 1974, for his final six years.

What does Gruen think about how Lennon is remembered? Especially in Get Back? “Well, who’s the last one standing?” Gruen scoffs. “Who gets to write the history? The survivors get to write the history. That’s the way it goes.”

Tony King was the vice-president of Apple Records at the time of Lennon’s Lost Weekend. “We’re here to talk about my friend,” he tells me sweetly. King was out in Los Angeles working on a Ringo album when Pang phoned to say that Lennon needed help with his Mind Games record.

“I wasn’t looking forward to it,” King admits. “John could be sharp-tongued. But, in LA, he was super-friendly. I was straightforward. I told him he had to repair his reputation. After Imagine [1971] he’d gone in a different direction, making songs with a political edge. It was quite easy for John to get caught up in things. He had this tendency to see someone, decide he loved them and then go in their direction. I was lucky he went in my direction for a while. He realised he had lost some fans. Mind Games was more what people wanted.” Its songs were simpler and less political.

Personally, however, Lennon was in turmoil. “May on one arm, Yoko on the other!” King says. “He was juggling a lot.” Did Lennon talk about McCartney? “They were not getting along, but he was still fond of him,” King recalls. And what about that Lost Weekend era? “He was off the walls, to be honest.

“We went to Las Vegas and John interrupted Frankie Valli during a show, saying, ‘Get your cock out!’ We got thrown out and on the way back to the hotel he was pissing up against trees and then throwing his chips around the lobby. I put him to bed. It was difficult when he drank. John had taken way too much acid and so when he drank it flipped him into another style of person. One day it was great, the next it was very hard.”

King remembers the night his friend died clearly. “I was out at dinner in LA and the waiter said, ‘He’s dead.’ I returned to a very lonely, sad hotel room.” Does he ever think about what Lennon might have achieved later in his life? “Elton and I talk about John,” King says. He means Elton John. “We say, ‘I wonder what he’d be up to?’ Well, he’d have pounced on the internet and got into AI. And he’d still campaign. I could see him hopping on a plane to see Zelensky. He was a busy person, with an arresting personality. You’re never going to forget him.”

The Mind Games reissue is a beast, a lavish celebration of a fine, melodic rush of songs. Bonuses include the Ultimate Mixes, which bring Lennon’s voice to the fore; Raw Studio Mixes; there is a Super Deluxe Edition “presented in a 13in cube”; puzzles; and even an experience on the free Lumenate app that is described as a “consciousness-expanding psychedelic meditation” and uses the phone’s torch and Lennon’s tunes to guide users into “a state of consciousness between deep meditation and psychedelics”.

We are a long way from 1973 — when the session musicians David Spinozza, on guitar, and Ken Ascher, on keyboards, were asked to play on Mind Games. They recall the recording as efficient — Lennon left his partying for later. He was in a creative peak, with Mind Games his fourth album in three years since the Beatles.

“He was a Beatle!” Ascher says. “I was thrilled to get the call. Yoko told me, around 10pm, that John would like to meet. I called my wife and said, ‘I’m not coming home — I’m meeting John.’ He played me music he liked, and we talked for hours. His humour helped me relax.”

Spinozza worked with Lennon and McCartney in the 1970s. How did the men compare? “Paul would do one song for six hours, even for a day,” he says. “With John we never worked on one song for six hours. He worked quick — he was all business. I’m not saying one was better than the other, but Paul could work on a drum sound for hours. John just wanted to get it done.”

How does Sean feel about his parents, looking back? “Their story is a love story,” he says. “They found each other across a great divide and certainly struggled through ups and downs, but never doubted their love. It is important we remember them as an example. Even through rough patches you can see my father thought about my mother. They were simply, irrevocably intertwined.”

Lovely words — and as for John Lennon himself? “Generally it’s whatever comes out, like diarrhoea,” he once said of his recordings. “A bit personal, a bit political — someone told me Mind Games was Imagine with balls, which I liked. It was like an interim record between being a manic political lunatic back to a musician again.”

Speaking in the early 1970s, after a decade of super-fame, he said he did not feel different to how he had before. “I’m still a bit adolescent,” he said in one of his final interviews. “My old friends from Liverpool got jobs after school. I’d see them six months later and their hair would be thin and they’d be getting fat. They were becoming old men — while I just keep going.”

(source)

[bloodycyrano]

Gifts I think the DAO companions would appreciate, outside of giftable in game items! (Pt1, I think this will be a long post if not sectioned)

Sten-

Incense and expensive tea, possibly imported. He talks about how he hates the smell of Ferelden, and misses home; Tea and incense being the most notable scents that stick out to him.

Cookies, or a good recipe for cookies. Everyone in the Fandom has had the dialog where Sten reveals that he enjoys cookies, and that in his homeland, there is no such thing. I think he would greatly enjoy a recipe to be able to bring such a thing back with him- Even if he may not be able to make them himself at home. My memory is fuzzy on qunari custom, but I don't think he'd be particularly allowed to bake.

A wardog of his own- I don't think he'd be permitted to keep it, upon return to the qun. But he has immense respect for Barkspawn, and I think if he were here in 2024, he'd be a great dog dad. I think he'd probably give it to his closest companion upon his return, but he would keep a detailed sketch of it with him always. He'd probably give it a specific title in his native tongue.

This is sort of a separate headcannon, but I think in a modern AU, he'd really like pumpkin spice lattes.- It's always the ones you would never expect.

Shayle-

Obviously, we know they like crystals. They like being pretty, and *sparkling*. So it's not too farfetched to assume they would appreciate gold ore or other shining metals fitted to some of their stone bits- Sort of like.. Magically grafted on with heat? Morrigan could weld them, or I'm sure Sandal could potentially do it.

I think, while they couldn't really read themselves, I think if you brought them books and such, they would enjoy hearing you read it to them. Especially if you manage to find some old records of their own lineage after the orzammar quest line.

I think they would also enjoy being given I big, stone bowl to keep shiny trinkets in- Like a crow, almost. Crystals, cute pebbles, coins, keys, etc. Pretty things for them to look at.

Leliana-

She would love it if you wrote her a poem, regardless of what it was about. I think she'd just be so happy you thought of her and wrote something lovely- I honestly think she'd love it even more if it wasn't the best quality. After all, that would mean you were inspired by her to write something of which you had no prior experience and still tried your best. She'd think it was cute.

I think she'd like it if you gave her one of your own personal favorite books or fables, with little notes on your commentary and theories. She'd love that, honestly.

A ceramic nug. No explanation needed, she loves Nugs. I've got animals I love, too. And if someone gave me a ceramic or plush critter of my choice, I'd be over the moon.

A little on the weird side, I think she'd like a type of porcelain harlequin doll. I can't think of the specific type, but they don't make them the same way anymore.. they're usually from overseas in Germany or Russia or France, you know? The ones that are really glossy and have beautiful line work in the paint? I feel like you found one in the denerim marketplace, imported from Orlais, and it would remind her of another experience she had there or even just of her time as a bard. After all, they weren't *all* unpleasant memories.

Alistair-

A golem doll. Like a little poppet. I don't think it's rare dialogue, but the other day is the first time I noticed it since I first played the game rented from a family video over a decade ago, so.. Yeah. Point is, Alistair mentions in front of "Wonders of Thedas", that Arl Eamon (I think) once bought him a little golem doll as a child, and how he adored it and wondered if there would be one like it at the wonders of thedas.

A griffon figurine. He's a Grey Warden, I think he'd like it. The wardens have always been his real home, and it's truly where he belongs. I think a memento of that is something he'd hold dear.

A book of poems about honoring fallen soldiers. I feel like it may bring him to tears, and perhaps make him confront some extra grief after ostagar, but perhaps it could also bring a sort of comfort. Maybe he isn't the most religious, maybe he has a bit of trauma from the chantry.. But I think he still prays, if only for the ones he's lost.

Again, I think he'd like a war dog. I'll never let him take Barkspawn, but he'd love a pupper of his own. If you gave it to him as a puppy to raise and train all his own, he'd probably be overjoyed.- Off topic, but I headcannon that all companions to the wardens have an extended lifespan, and live and die with their humanoid counterparts if they don't die in battle, kind of like the animal companions do with the avatars in ATLA. Far fetched, and backed by absolutely no real lore as far as I know, but I like to think it's true.

[c0la-queen]

Edd Headcanons | The Older Brother Friend

---

Appearance:

My Edd has tan skin and fluffy brown hair. He's got light, scruffy facial hair but he shaves it every so often so it doesn't get too thick.

His eyes are a warm chocolate brown in my head, but because of his powers they sometimes glow green- in the dark or when he's angry.

Edd is the tallest of the crew in my timeline, a whopping 6'5. He rubs this in and will use his height as a weapon against the others. The type to send those "Send this to your short friend" to Tom and Reader.

I am a chubby Edd truther!!! My man is a big cuddly bear!! So warm and perfect for hugs and cuddles!!! But don't be mistaken, he is still fit. Probably the broadest of the group, with shoulders almost touching the door frame. And while his powers do help, Edd is still on of the physically strongest of the group- before he got his powers, he and Tord were equal in strength.

Has to wear glasses when reading or doing digital art, and to help his eyes they're blue light glasses. Has no piercings, but he does have a tattoo somewhere on his body. Won't tell anyone where or what it is. (Only person who knows is the person he made the bet with, which would be either his sister or Tom)

Family Life:

Has one of the most average family experiences.

His parents are happily married. They were always loving and doting and were objectively good parents.

He has one younger sister. They gave a good relationship, the two get along and still stay in touch even when he's moved out.

But, he also had his own struggles. Specifically during high school, he started feelings like his parents paid more attention to his younger sister's achievements than his. They never favored her or gave her better things than him. But he couldn't help but feel like she was seen as the more academic one compared to him.

Despite this, he didn't hold it against her or his parents. As he matured, he managed to fight through those thoughts.

Has his baby cat Ringo, the most precious thing in his life.

Personality:

Edd isn't the dad friend of the group. Edd is the older brother friend. He cares about the others and is considered as the "head" of the group. (Often likes to joke that he's the alpha male). But, he's not nurturing, he's a little bastard. He can be a bit of a jerk sometimes, and can accidentally take it a little too far.

Steals people's things to piss them off. Not anything super important, and he always gives it back after a short while of teasing. If there's something his roommates don't want anyone touching, he'll usually respect that. (Susan is an exception)

Holds objects over other people's heads where they can't reach it. Reader and Tom are the usual victims of this, but if he wants to do it to Matt or Tord he'll float off the ground.

Has his head in the gutter all the time. The type of friend to hear the word "come" and turn to you with a stupid grin.

"That's what she said." "Deez nuts."

Although he's a bastard, he loves the others. He'll remind them to eat or drink water, drag the group outside when everyone's been inside too long, organize the weekend adventures or the game/movie night, and he cooks dinner most of the nights.

Fiercely protective of all the roommates, but specifically Reader. He isn't afraid to slap the fuck outta anyone who is insulting or threatening any of his people.

Loves playing Mario Kart and Mario Party because he can piss multiple people off at the same time while also winning the game.

Works as a commission artist and animator for a studio. He has a whole digital art setup on his desk in his room. While he still works all week like a normal job, he can set his own hours, take breaks whenever he wants, and is able to work completely from home. He just has to get his projects done by the deadline.

He likes Oreos :D just thinks they're tasty.

His favorite band is the Beatles! It's why he named his cat Ringo- he's loved the band since he was a little kid.

Smells like coffee and mint.

Enjoys watching Studio Ghibli movies with Reader. Especially likes My Neighbor Totoro, since its got the Cat Bus.

Has a big metal water bottle that he painted. I think he'd have an emerald green bottle and paint really detailed fir trees around it.

Has a PC setup for animation/digital art, an iPad for digital art, and a sketchbook for traditional art. Likes to dabble in several art mediums. His favorites are acrylic paint, watercolor, and charcoal.

Plays Pokemon games with the Reader during his breaks from drawing. He's an "all physical attacks, no status conditions" type of player. Prefers grass types but mains cat Pokemon.

Cuddle bug. Loves taking naps with Reader. Will fall asleep with her on the couch, on his bed, or on her bed. The perfect time to nap in his opinion is during rainy days.

Would love to get matching onesies with Reader if she asked him to. Proudly takes pictures with her while wearing them.

Lets Reader sit in his lap while he draws or plays games. Thinks its the cutest thing if she falls asleep in his lap.

Takes Reader with him while grocery shopping. But will trap her between his arms while pushing the cart to keep her from wandering.

Can be really intimidating when he's pissed.

Playlist (Based off My Spotify Playlist of Him):

Hollywood Undead

Childish Gambino

Joji

Rex Orange County

Jack Stauber

blink-182

The Weeknd

[lfghughes]

Light a Fire

a/n: i’m going to be honest about this request, i loved writing it but i know 0 about f1 except from a few videos i see on tiktok so dont hate me

“What do you even know about F1?” Mat laughed and all that really did was irritate you. You could feel your cheeks start to burn, a good indication of your annoyance. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything at all to him. But then he would have gotten irritated that you didn’t tell him you were seeing someone. “Oh I’m sorry, do all of your exes have extensive knowledge on hockey? Is that a requirement?”

His eyes widened slightly at your snippiness towards him and instead he held his hands up in surrender. “I don’t get why you’re getting so defensive over a joke.” Both of you had been friends for years and this was one of those rare moments that you would consider a fight. Usually Mat was the person you’d go to for anything and everything but right now he was making it really easy to not want to talk to him.

“Whatever Mat, anyways. Lando is flying in later today. I was going to invite you to get food and drinks with us later but don’t bother showing up if you’re going to be annoying.” That was a clear warning because last thing you wanted was for your dinner to be ruined by Mat saying something rude or being this weird version of himself. “I’ll be there. Got to make sure he’s cool.” He left it at that and you weren’t really in the mood to keep on talking so instead you gave him the details he would need for later.

Once at the restaurant you didn’t even think about the irritating events from earlier, not as you and Lando walked up to the table he had reserved. But when you caught sight of Mat you did feel some nerves in your stomach and silently willed him to be on his best behavior. “Hey, I’m Mat.” He held his hand out for a handshake as Lando returned it. “She’s told me a lot about you.” Which was true because Mat was in a lot of your stories but you couldn’t help but pick up on the slight tone of irritation in his voice.

Throughout the dinner there were slight bits of attitude here and there coming from both guys and honestly by the time the food came out you were ready to just be back home. This wasn’t going the way you wanted it to. “You’re still coming to my game tomorrow right?” Mat asked and you wanted to hit your head against your hand because how could you forget. It was a pretty important one for him and he had asked days back if you wanted tickets.

“Actually we already have plans for tomorrow.” Lando started and Mat let out a laugh that let you know he was pissed. “Could you maybe get one extra ticket? I’m sure we could adjust our plans.” You asked, hopeful at least that maybe just maybe Mat would be okay with this and not hold it over you. “It’s last minute and I already got tickets for my dad too. I can’t just give out tickets, you know that.” 

With those words being said, Mat pulled his wallet out, pulling out a $100 bill and putting it on the table. “I’m going to head out, sorry to be rude.” And he was exiting the building. What was his problem? “I’ll be right back.” You quickly said and followed him on out. “Mat, wait.” You called out after him as you stepped outside in the cool air. Mat paused, turning around slowly and you could tell he was definitely upset.

“I’m sorry I forgot about the game. You know I wanted to be there.” But you also felt bad canceling on Lando when he had flown out here. “You just don’t get it, do you? You don’t see it and I don’t know how. Call me when you figure it out.” He went to turn around and your head was spinning slightly from his words, you had no clue what he was talking about. “Mathew what are you talking about?” You noticed the pause from using his full first name and he turned back around again. “I’m in love with you and you don’t even see it.”

[kayyybenson]

Family Time - Rafael Barba

"Mami! Look what I drew!" Elena ran over to me to the best of her ability. She showed me her little toddler drawing of our family. "That one is you," She pointed to someone in a purple shirt, "This one is Papa." She pointed to the person in the red shirt next to me, "And there is Carlos, and that one is Cammi!" She gave me a wide smile, obviously proud of herself. 

    "Awe, sweetie it's amazing, let's hang it on the fridge."  I took it from her and put it on the fridge next to Camila's report card. "Papa is going to love it." Something hit me in the arm and I turned to stare at the culprit. "What did I say about playing with that hockey puck in the house? You're going to break something." 

    "But mamá, the big game is tomorrow and it's raining outside." Carlos frowned when I picked up the puck and placed it on top of the fridge. 

    "Go play on the Xbox. I just bought you a new game." 

    "Camila is playing the Sims on it." 

    "Tell her that I said to come out here and play with Elena," He mumbled an okay before going to get his twin. "What are we going to do with these two?" I kneeled down at Elena's height and pinched her cheek. She giggled and wabbled off, mumbling some broken Spanish. I got up to start making dinner when I was placing the conchas in the oven I was whacked in the back of my head. I heard a gasp before someone said.

    "Carlos, you got her right in the head Cabrona."

    "Hey! We do NOT use that language in this house! Especially on your sibling!" I whipped around. "No matter how much of a Cabrona they are!" The door front door opened and the twins ran out of the room, going to their father. I grabbed one of the Nerf guns they left on the floor and chased them, I rounded the corner and aimed the gun at Rafael.

    "Woah, triple teaming me?"

    "State your name and purpose." Camila lifted her fake crossbow.

    "Rafael Barba, I'm coming home to my family that seems to be out for blood." He chuckled.

    "Baja tus armas novatos." The kids lowered their weapons and ran back to their room. "Welcome home my love." I kissed his cheek and walked back to the kitchen.

    "Let me guess, that was the twin's idea?"

    "They wanted to use water guns. Be happy I hid them." 

    "How were they today?" He wrapped an arm around my waist, but I pushed him away.

    "No hugs until you've changed. And considering they've only been home for 2 hours, pretty good. Nothing is broken and I'm still sane." He chuckled and went to the bedroom to shower and change.

    "Mamá, how much longer until dinner is ready?" 

    "Now," He reached for a Concha but I smacked his hand away. "No, you're eating all of your dinner first." I placed the bowl on the table and called to dinner, everyone came running, and Elena tumbled but got back up.

    "Mami! Dinner!" I chucked and helped her climb into her little booster seat. 

    "That's right baby, dinner." I took my seat and we all passed the bowls of food around, filling our plates.

    "Mamá this is amazing!" Camila smiled,

    "Yeah, better than Dad's cooking."

    "Hey!" The kids giggled and I smiled. It's nights like these that make me happy, the ones where the family would sit around and just be a family.