#but their young children go running into the street at every opportunity and the live near a blind spot on our road

[darkwood-sleddog]

genuinely wish my neighbors would get their front yard fenced.

[hauntingofhouses]

(concept art of young taigen - source ; art credit: @abigaillarson)

i cannot get over this concept art of young taigen. god.

just look at this angry bratty boy, too many feelings that he doesnt know what to do with! an abused 9 year old kid in poverty always playing with sticks in the dirt, obsessed with greatness and dreaming to escape his decrepit village—and he does!

he does escape. he runs away. this angry little boy, all claws and teeth and biting words uttered with a lisp, going on the run into a world he's never seen before until he makes his way to kyoto. and knowing him he probably forced his way in to be accepted by the dojo, growling and kicking even as he's thrown out, back into the streets, too stubborn to take no for an answer and never knowing when to give up.

taigen calls mizu a dog, weak, an orphan, a scrawny street urchin. but i can't help but think that he feels so bold to use those words because he had them spat at him too.

because taigen had the idea of "this is how the world is" beat into him from birth. he learned quickly that if you couldn't beat the world you could join it. but that meant losing your way, your values, your principles. and isn't that what true honour is? not just titles and status and glory?

we don't get to see what taigen, as a child surrounded by peers encouraging and goading him on, would've actually done if that meteor hadn't fallen right in front of them at that very moment. would he have really tried to throw that stone on mizu, killing her? we don't know.

but we do see what taigen (his true self, with no one around) does, when presented with the same opportunity. when mizu passes out in front of him, unconscious and near death, vulnerable, the path to restoring his honour lays itself out for him on a silver platter. and he wants to take it, wants to kill mizu, to claim what is his and return to kyoto and get back everything he'd worked tooth and nail for. he feels like it's what he should do. but he doesn't.

and later, again he is presented with the chance to betray mizu, likely offered by heiji shindo to get his rank reinstated within the shindo dojo. and again, taigen doesn't take it. he refuses. "stupidly loyal," fowler calls him later. loyal, like a dog.

because now, pulled away from the sneering looks and jeering words of people around him, telling him that this is what the world is, taigen had met ringo and mizu, two outcasts who refuse to follow a predetermined path to greatness. and so inside something blooms in him. something like hope. a chance to live in a world that doesn't kick you down every chance it gets, to live in a world where genuine kindness and and love and friendship and even weakness is possible, allowed to simply exist without fear.

because he'd been running away from the very idea of it the whole time. when he ran from kohama, he never looked back, never wanted to remember what it was like to be a child, afraid and hungry and angry and hurting, without the words to make sense of it, desperately wishing for something. something more. he doesn't know what. but he hears stories of great swordsmen and decides, yes, this must be it. this is what i want: glory, greatness. the twisted seed gets planted and thrives in this barren land.

and when he returns to kohama with mizu and ringo, he at last is forced to stop running. he must face the child within him again, and he tells that child to put down the stones in his hand, tells him to stop barking at anything that moves or looks at him wrong.

the child drops the stone, and taigen buys dumplings instead, gives them to mizu. the child within him, wide-eyed at the prospect of friendship, moves him to pick up a hammer and toss it to mizu. he's smiling inside even as he does it; giggling like a kid hiding a silly prank. as soon as mizu drops the hammer after him, he leaps at her, tackling her to the ground and they wrestle and laugh unbridled like two children playing while the adults aren't around to barge in and yell at them.

and then his gaze catches on mizu's lips, he stares into mizu's eyes, a sparkling blue, inviting like the open sea in good weather.

it's a man's desire that takes hold then, the child in him sinking away again, and he curses himself for it, because it ruins the moment.

everything goes to shit from there, and then it's back to being a man, back to putting on his grown-up's armour to play hero.

it fails. the shogun dies. fowler's beatings reopen all the wounds left by heiji shindo's torture. "honour is meaningless," mizu tells him. "nothing comes from being a samurai but death."

the words follow him, and he follows the words.

as everything burns down, he runs, leaving the fire behind him, and sees akemi, as well as the verdure of spring behind her, calling him. he does not hesitate then to hold his hand out to her, inviting her to come with him. "i don't want to be great," he says. "i just want to be happy."

what is happiness to him? perhaps he doesn't know it yet, or perhaps he does. but really, i believe happiness is what the child in him always wanted but never received. happiness is a home.

[invisibleicewands]

‘Theatre changed my life,’ says Michael Sheen. ‘Now my passion is for helping others’

Theatre can change lives. And I should know. It’s changed my life more than I’d ever have imagined. Back in 2011, a play called The Passion took over the streets of my hometown of Port Talbot. And I haven’t been the same since.

Perhaps the perception of actors before a play is that we’ll learn a few lines, try on a few costumes... break a leg. But with The Passion, I went all in like never before.

I also met the people doing vital work in the community I grew up in, helping vulnerable people who need it the most, often at make-or-break moments. Being at this coalface of community opened my eyes.

This patchwork of people holding society together with the thinnest of threads, going over and above each and every day to help people in almost every aspect of their lives.

I saw then – and I continue to see – kind-hearted, warm, tolerant people helping out their fellow humans to bring communities together. These are the people who make our nation what it is.

The good deeds that these people did – from giving young carers a night off to go bowling, to setting up the only grief counselling service in the area – generally worked under fragile funding and often were under-appreciated by the wider community.

I knew then that I had to devote as much time and energy as I could to helping, however I could.

In the decade and a half since The Passion, I’ve started projects around homelessness, high-cost credit, care, and local journalism. And for the past 18 months, these have come under the banner of a movement known as Mab Gwalia.

Mab Gwalia believes that opportunity should not only be available to those who can afford it. The ambition is to build a movement that makes change.

We support people and projects which work in three ways: projects creating opportunity and fighting for fairness; projects rooted in communities, helping people directly; and projects that work in new and ambitious ways to deliver change.

My work on The Passion made me realise there’s so many people out there doing this. And Mab Gwalia has supported as many of them as we can.

This has included: Army veterans in Merthyr Tydfil. Autism support for children in Rhondda Cynon Taf. Food growing in Pembrokeshire. Opportunities for women in Swansea who’ve suffered knock-back after knock-back. Community skills hubs in Rhyl.

Theatre changed my life. Now I want the spark it set off in me to do the same for others.

My ancestor, Nanny Blower, the lion tamer

My great-great grandmother was called Mary Ann-North. Or Nanny Blower, as we know her.

She left Wales for New York in 1896 where she became, wait for it, an elephant and lion tamer for the Bostock and Wombwell Circus. Fast forward to today and young people in the Upper Neath Valleys don’t have to run away to join the circus. Organised Kaos comes to them.

Kaos stands for “keeping adolescents off the streets” and that’s what they do. I first met them on The Passion (riding BMXs through fire – them, not me) and now Mab Gwalia has helped fund their work.

Manics band drum up £15,000 for drama study

“Libraries gave us power” – the opening lyrics to Wales’ second national anthem, A Design For Life.

The Manic Street Preachers wrote a version of the song for The Passion, performing it at The Last Supper in the Seaside Social & Labour Club… before being arrested and hauled off stage for the show’s added drama.

The band is working with Mab Gwalia to fund a drama scholarship, providing financial support to students who need it. Since 2021, 11 students have received up to £15,000 each academic year.

We’ve just committed to another three years. The students tell us it gives them a chance to believe. The arts should be for everyone.

Mothers Matter, like my mum and partner Anna

My mum’s going through a tough time as my dad is living with Alzheimer’s. It’s a lot to take. I’m thankful every day for how my partner Anna is with our daughters.

It’s an understatement, but mothers matter. That’s the name of an organisation Mab Gwalia has supported. Mothers Matter helps mums suffering from loneliness and isolation through support, counselling, wellbeing hubs and workshops. Mothers in South Wales don’t have to do it alone.

We give a voice to working class writers

A summer reading recommendation: Only Here, Only Now by Tom Newlands. It’s Cora’s story – a teenage girl with ADHD finding her way through life in the early 90s in post-industrial Scotland. She’ll change the way you think about neurodivergence. It’s an unforgettable debut novel.

Tom was part of A Writing Chance, a project I developed alongside the Joseph Rowntree Foundation, New Writing North and Northumbria University. The Office for National Statistics says nearly half all authors are from the most privileged backgrounds.

So we’re trying to redress that balance. To turn up voices not always heard. Tom was one of the first group – 11 writers who received bursaries and mentoring with industry leaders including regular writer of this column, Ros Wynne-Jones.

You can hear their stories in the BBC Sounds podcast Margins to Mainstream with Michael Sheen. Now, 16 more writers are on board. Think of the stories to come.

My debut at the ‘brilliant Welsh party’

With origins dating from 1176, the National Eisteddfod is Europe’s largest cultural festival. A celebration of Welsh language culture with performances and competitions in everything from composition to cynghanedd (a type of Welsh poetry). And, last weekend, in Pontypridd, I made my debut on the maes (site or field).

My four-year-old daughter now refers to it as “that brilliant Welsh party” which neatly describes the atmosphere. On stage, the actress Sian Phillips said the sounds of words in Welsh “echoed with the language”.

I felt those echoes all day. Spoken in the park by families. Performed by young actors. Sung with emotion by choirs. It was a beautiful thing.

Homeless World Cup a beautiful game

Next month, the Homeless World Cup takes place in Seoul, South Korea. Bringing the tournament to Cardiff in 2019, seeing 500 players with experience of homelessness represent their nation on the football field, was something I’ll never forget.

If you can’t wait until then, watch The Beautiful Game on Netflix. Keep an eye on Callum Scott Howells, a brilliant young Welsh actor who I directed in BBC drama The Way (available on iPlayer).

Nye NHS vision seen on world stage

I’ve spent much of this year playing the man who had the vision and valour to create the National Health Service. Nye was theatre at its most far-reaching.

There were sold-out runs in the National Theatre in London, the Wales Millennium Centre in Cardiff. And cinema screenings were viewed by people all over the world.

On the night we filmed the NT Live screening, NHS workers from around the country were invited to be in the audience. They knew that at that moment, a global audience was learning about our welfare state and the man who was behind it.

My dad came along one night. He was just a little kid when Bevan’s idea became reality. Soon there’ll be very few left who can remember what life was like before the NHS.

Let’s hope it stays that way. Can the new government come up with a progressive policy that inspires a story which packs them in 75 years on? We can but dream.

[ghostlynightpanda]

JJ Maybank - Love at the first Kiss

English is not my fist language!

synopsis: June just moved to the Outer Banks and even though her new friends Sarah and Rafe Cameron had warned her, she finds herself helping a Pogue hiding from the police.

June Asher Young was an ordinary girl. She just tried to fit in, no matter what she had to do for that. Keep low? No problem. Don’t speak up even though you’re annoyed? She could do that. Pretend to find something okay even though you hated it? Not easy, but in order to not be alone she’d try. 

She and her parents had moved to Outer Banks a month ago, making her go to the OB High Academy. They had used to live in England but her father had a great job opportunity here in Outer Banks. His firm expanded and wanted to make him the head of financial department. 

She was glad to have found a good friend in Sarah Cameron and her brother Rafe. She often spent her time with them as well as Topper and Kelce.

Were these the people she really wanted to spend time with? Nope. But she wanted to fit in. And with whom could she do this better than with the golden children of Figure Eight. 

All this sounded like she hated her new friends, which wasn’t the case. She liked them, she actually did. But she hated the way they were talking about poorer people, like they were below them. It sucked and June was tempted to say something to it every time but like mentioned, she wanted to fit in. Also, they were really nice to her and actual friends. There is also the fact that others doesn’t seem to like new people, so without Sarah she probably wouldn’t have anyone.

Right now June was standing in the middle of a rather small store, looking around for new things. 

„Come on dude, you’ll never be able to pay for this.“ She suddenly heard a boy muttering, causing her to look to her left for a brief second, seeing two really cute boys standing there as they looked at the bracelets. 

The way they dressed told her they were probably from the Cut, Pogues, like her friends called them. People she was supposed to stay away from, yet she didn't find it in herself to be scared of the two boys. She was rather curious. Were they really this different?

„We could chip in together? Come on Pope, it’s his birthday.“ The other one sighed, seeing how June was glancing at him as he immediately send her a smile and a small wink. 

But of course she just blushed and quickly focused back on the shelf in front of her, too embarrassed to react to it the slightest. 

„I already got a present. And even if not, it’s still too expensive.“ The first boy sighed while June listened carefully, not wanting to seem nosy.

„Oh come on, it’s perfect.“ The blonde hummed, shaking his head, „I’m sure John B would love it. Maybe…“ He looked around carefully before leaning closer to his friend, whispering something June didn’t understand. But she could guess what he was suggesting, so she finally turned around, not having found anything she liked as she was now leaving the store. 

Maybe she was too quick to judge. Just because he was from the Cut didn’t mean he’d just steal the bracelet. And even if he did, he did it for his friend which was cute, right? It’s a nice thing to do.

She was just passing a dead-end street as she heard shouting behind her, causing her to turn around confused, seeing how the blond boy was rushing around the corner, his hood pulled up to hide his face.

„Stop that thief!“ She heard another voice yelling, probably a cop or something but he wasn’t yet in sight as the boy now raced past June, running straight into the dead-end street. 

„Shit!“ He shouted, but in that moment the police was already rounding the corner. 

June made her decision in a split second, knowing she’d have around ten seconds until the cop was there, causing her to quickly hurry into the dead-end as well, glancing at the boy who now looked around stressed. Just this one time she wanted to be spontaneous and do something she usually wouldn’t do.

„Put out your jacket, quick.“ June ordered the boy, causing him to look at her with wide eyes, „Hurry up!“ She hissed, opening her bag causing him to quickly get out of the jacket and throwing it in her bag. They already heard the steps of the two cops, causing June to close her eyes for a brief second, hesitating if she really wanted to do this.

But yes, she did. She wanted to do something stupid for once in her life.

So, she quickly walked a few steps forward, shoving the boy against the wall carefully, leaning on her tiptoes. „Just act along.“ She whispered before pressing her lips to his, ignoring how awkward this was right now. Why exactly did she do this again?

„Hey, you two!“ They heard a voice, causing her to quickly turn her head while keeping her hand on the back of the boy’s head, causing him to nestle his head in the crock of her neck. This way the cops wouldn’t be able to see his face and tell that it was him who robbed the store. But apparently he seemed to enjoy it a little too much as he began placing a few kisses along her neck. 

„Yes?“ June asked the cops, looking at them with raised eyebrows. „Sorry, my uh… my boyfriend and I are just a little entranced by our romantic getaway.“ She mumbled, blushing slightly. 

„Have you seen a boy with a red jacket?“ One of the cops just hummed, not reacting to anything she’d just said. 

„We heard steps running past but they faded as quickly as they came.“ She shrugged, pointing down the street, causing them to eye the couple for a second before apparently believing her as they now continued running down the street. But just as June turned her head towards him, the boy already pulled her into another kiss, causing her to hesitantly return it. 

After a few more seconds they finally separated, both just looking at each other. „Thank you.“ The boy whispered, leaning down once again and giving her a sweet peck. „I should go now before they come back.“ And with that he turned around, beginning to jog away. 

„W-wait. Your jacket!“ June shouted after a few seconds of just processing what had just happened. 

The boy turned around once again, just sending her a wink before continuing his way as she just stared at him flabbergasted. Well… That was certainly an interesting encounter. 

——————————————————————————————————

„Guys? Guys!“ JJ shouted as he ran over to his friends who were waiting in the van for him. 

„You made it.“ Pope smirked, shaking his head, „Thought police would get to you first.“ 

„And they would’ve but I got help.“ He explained, shutting the door of the van behind him as he looked between John B and Pope. „I’m in love.“ 

„Love?“ The other two asked at the same time, exchanging a confused glance. 

„Don’t tell me you fell in love with Shoupe’s moustache as you were running from him.“ John B snickered, shaking his head at his friend. Where the hell would he have fallen in love? 

„Hey, I’m serious!“ JJ scoffed, glaring at his friends. „I am in love. Seriously, this girl, she- she saved me from the cops. She kissed me and I-I’m in love. Simple and plain.“ He sighed, leaning back in his seat as he remembered what had happened. He quickly told his friends about how she had helped him and how they kissed. 

„Okay that’s cool.“ Pope admitted as he looked at his friend, „But that doesn’t mean you’re in love. It was just a kiss man.“

„Yeah dude, love is something completely different.“ John B backed his friend up, shaking his head. 

„It’s not!“ JJ groaned, „It’s not something different. I know what I felt, I know I’m in love. The way she saved me form the cops and- and the way we kissed? It is love. I know it!“ He looked at his hands, sighing dramatically. „She’s a Touron though, so I’ll never see her again.“ 

„A love story like it’s written in a book.“ Pope smirked, dodging hid friend’s swing. „All right, all right. I’m sorry that she’s just a Touron, okay?“ 

„Hey, if it’s really true love maybe you’ll see her again when visiting her country and then you both fall in love and will make lots and lots of children.“ John B answered sarcastically, suppressing a grin. JJ always was a little dramatic but never on the love way. That was new and weird, but hey. It’s not like he wouldn’t suspect something like this from his friend. 

„Stop making fun of me, I’m serious!“ JJ muttered, shaking his head at his two friends annoyed. 

„Oh come on,“ John B sighed, „Just roll yourself a blunt and then everything will look different immediately, okay?“ He smirked, looking in the review mirror but raised his eyebrows as he saw that his friend seemed seriously distressed. „Come on, I’m just joking. If she’s here for vacation then you might see her again, yes?“ 

„Maybe.“ JJ hummed, nodding slightly.

Yes, he’d surely see her again, right?

[sassenashsworld]

A little more of Silver Lore

I really want to do a return on the story of my SoSu while also a little on Arianne, her niece

Many trigger warning : rape, attempt suicide, violence

Nora Taylor

Arianne Taylor

Nora Taylor is my Vault 111 survivor.

The far earlier I've told about her story in The Path of the Private and Heartbeat of the Commonwealth is her relatively turbulent youth with her sister and both parents. Nora, while not as outspoken as her sister, was nonetheless able to confront their elderly father. She already had a clear sense of what she wanted and didn't want.

She could already put herself in dangerous circumstances when she was very young, such as confronting a gang of street thugs. The scenario led to a violent gang rape. She could only come home the next day, injured and broken, and that' when the chaos begin.

Hell, absolutely, because a lengthy court fight resulted in nothing, the young hoodlums being rich children who had paid for sufficiently skilled lawyers to ensure Nora never received justice.

It broke her father, too; unable to defend his daughter, he developed early dementia. His suffering lasted a few years, and he was at least able to assist his daughter during her early University cursus.

Because of what happened to her, Nora aspired to be a lawyer. She aspired to be the lawyer who would tip the scales and restore justice to other victims who, like herself, were going to confront the system that favors the wealthy.

Eventually, the sickness took hold of him, and Nora's father died.

Nora realized her future was put at risk almost immediately when he died. Without a father to support her and pay for her education, she would never be able to reach her ambition...

Nora was then 19.

She fled on the evening of the funeral, as the cerceuil lid closed on the family provider.

She was panicked, terrified of what would happen next. She despised not staying to morally support her mother, but she felt absolutely stuck, and terror took over.

It is in complete terror that she run from Cambridge to Boston, where she sought safety in an ill-reputed neighborhood near her university.

She had previously accompanied some low reputate students to an even less desirable bar. She dashed to the bar to acquire illegal chems that would allow her to forget, if only for a time, about her present situation. She then hid in an alley behind a dumpster to conclude her action.

That's when the container began talking to her.

Nora became concerned about the fact that she hadn't had time to take the chem yet.

The young man disguised in the container took advantage of this to further persuade her not to use the chem she had just bought.

They continued to converse somewhat.

Nate had just entered Nora's life.

Despite their lack of luck in the past, Nora and Nate promised not to give up. They planned to utilize the state to get them released from their sad faith.

They both joined the Army.

Nate stayed until Anchorage but Nora completed only the minimum service required to pay her university expenses. The service did not prevent them from marrying and enjoying a deep happiness.

They relied heavily on one another. Nora depended completely and blindly on Nate to guide her.

Not that she was stupid; rather opposite. But in every aspect of her life, she had to take the lead. Relying on Nate allowed her to balance the pressure.

Nora's career get on a pause when she became pregnant. She and Nate purchased a lovely humble house in a peaceful neighborhood near Concord.

During this time, Nora's sister get married too, but she, too, refused to give up her patronyme.

The two sisters were extremely proud to be Taylors, claiming to be direct descendants of the May Flower pioneers.

The two sisters fell pregnant a few months apart. Shawn had his birth before Arianne. They both took the name of Taylor.

However, Nora and her sister will not have many opportunities to visit each other. While Nora chose to live in Sanctuary to be closer to her mother stayed in Cambridge, her sister dicided to get along her husband to the Appalachians. However, the two sisters were fortunate enough to secure a place within their separate Vaults.

Here, Nora's fate and that of her niece Arianne diverge dramatically.

Nora's sister and her husband were on the road when the bombs went off. They had leaving little Arianne to the care of a close friend of them. She successfully guided Arianne to Vault 76, as the Overseer, but Arianne's parents never made it to the shelter.

The Overseer, a smart and kind woman, had already advised Arianne's parents to bring everything that could be significant into the vault. As a result, Arianne grew up under the Overseer's care while remaining true to her roots. She had access to her family's diaries and photographs.

She grew up as a proud Taylor.

She is very similar to her aunt, Nora.

The Overseer frequently make remark on it with amusement, but Arianne took it extremely seriously. She was so pleased to be like her aunt Nora, to resemble her as much physically as morally, that she even bleached her hair to make them white like her, unconscious of her aunt's trauma that had resulted to this peculiarity.

A few days before the bombs blew off, Nora chose to leave Shawn in the care of Codsworth and Nate in order to find employment in law. In the middle of the day, she returned to her mentor's office, where the secretary demanded if she might take his briefcase to the BADtfl. Nora gleefully accepted, hoping to get the opportunity to ask her former boss if he might re-hire her, but he was too busy to meet her due to a scandal involving an illustrious criminal disturbing the organization.

She was disappointed because she wanted to return home, but her car refused to start. She returned inside the building, hoping to call a tow truck, but all of the phones had been took as a result of the controversy.

She was patiently waiting for an opportunity through the circumstances when she noticed a man left by himself, who appeared to be distressed.

Taking pity on the man and realizing that she will have no access to a phone at the BADtfl, she decides to take him for a coffee.

The detective, who appeared to be really sorrowful, followed her without protest.

Nora soon recognized that the man's state was worrying. His attitude reminded her of her own on the day of her father's funeral, and remembering how Nate had saved her life, she decided to help him till the end.

Nora accompanied Nick Valentine to the CIT.

A few days later, the bombs exploded. Nora was no longer thinking about the BADtfl's man, who was almost certainly dead.

Synth Nick had also forgotten Nora.

Their lucky meeting didn't provide the spark needed to bring back this memory.

But one day, as they strolled down the same street, in front of the same cafe, Nora remembered.

She informed Nick about it, and as a result, he recovered some memories.

Nick and Nora then realized how their fates were entwined.

Nora got brain seizures comparable to skyzophrenia as a result of her exposure to Vault-Tec gases while exploring Nuka World.

After Nora went into a hazardous delirium and distanced herself from everyone, Nick retrieve her and brought her back and get her treated by an experiment serum of the Doctor Amari.

The procedure was somewhat successful; Nora regained mental awareness. However, this doesn’t come at no cost.

During the altercation, Nora shot Nick with her .10mm, resulting in coolant leaks that harmed his core. She and her friends were able to transplant the core of another synth before it was too late, but Nick's system was not provide with the same core as his "cousins" and he couldn't no longer performs as efficiently as he had before.

Nora felt a great deal of shame and guilt, even if Nick didn't hold it against her given how she was at the moment.

However, Nora had no ideas what this scenario was. Amari's treatment succeeded, but it also destroyed parts of her memories.

Nora, disturbed and guilty, gradually closes in on herself as time passes.

Nick was from time to time able to reach her again, but Nora loses her sense of right and wrong.

When she eventually gets to the institute and learns the horrific truth about Shawn, it was the final straw.

Nora tries to kill herself.

Nick manages to retain her in-extremis, but the damage to Nora's mind and heart was catastrophic.

The lore divides here.

In both The Path of the Private and Heartbeat of the Commonwealth, Nora started working for the institution at Deacon's request to infiltrate them and free the synths.

In The Path of the Private, Nick remains her main companion, but she uses more and more chemicals, becoming increasingly unstable and dangerous. Nick no longer wears white gloves to straighten her, and their relationship, while very close, is frequently murky.

Nora is strongly close to Nick, and he remains the person she most respects; but, because she no longer respects herself, they frequently confront each other.

At the same time, she is quite attached to Danse, which strangely keeps her sober when she is with him, but when she realizes that he is her "grandson" and that a relationship with him is impossible... it is another descend into hell.

Nick then persuades Nora to join him for a final investigation in Maine, trying to change her mind and keep her away from Hancock, who has a negative influence on her.

In Heartbeat of the Commonwealth, however, when Nora begins working for the institute, she keeps Nick away so that he is never in danger again as a consequence of her journey... but without truly exposing him of her thoughts.

Nick feels rejected by Nora and develops a severe depression.

In this state of abandonment, he finds a glimmer of hope in the persona of Jasmine. He eventually adopts her as his own daughter, which allows him to retrieve control of his life, even if the sorrow of Nora's "betrayal" remains raw.

Nora, for her part, occasionally attempts to return to Nick, but someone inform her that he has a new partner, and she disappears for two months without searching to learn more about his situation.

When Nora ultimately returns to Sanctuary, where Nick has taken up residence to offer a more righteous environment for his daughter to grow up in, they don't have much of an opportunity to explain themselves.

After a brief excursion together to get back Jasmine, which would have allowed them to explain themselves, they part ways without discussing. Jasmine need emergency care, which Nick must deliver.

Nora, for her part, is immensely upset with the welcoming she receive after two months away. She concive the idea that her friends see her merely as a functional role, and Nick's frigid and distant demeanor dashes her last hopes.

Now convinced that she no longer has a place in her small community and is no longer close to her best friend, she attempts suicide once more with an excessive amount of buffout.

Hancock persuades Nick to seek for her, and the detective saves her once more, but the chem causes Nora's brain to suffer further damage.

The companions and even Nick are not immediately aware of the situation, while Nora appears to act normally. But when Jasmine runs away again and the duo rushes against the clock to save the Commonwealth from the most catastrophic scenario, Nora is thrust into an episode almost worse as the one of Nuka World.

Nick, dying of fear about his daughter and traveling through a Commonwealth set on fire by a bunch of destructive mercenaries to find her, tries to manage the young woman as best he can, while Amari works hard to discover a better treatment.

However, challenges in their path continue to increase, and the day when Nora, Nick, and Jasmine will finally be reunited to enjoy some serene living doesn't appear to be imminent.

[mayfly-maycry]

For as long as you can remember, and much longer than that, you have been an executioner. How can you know, when you do not remember? You wrote it all down.

Your first century is contained in only a few volumes, as you started writing only when you began to forget. It was written rather haphazardly at first, one volume of what you could recall in your initial scramble to record your memories before they were gone, and several more volumes of addendums that came to you after. Since then, you have had to transcribe the older journals to a newer page, one that wasn’t so old it threatened to fall apart at a single touch, and took the opportunity to put things in order as best you could.

You may not remember your youth itself, but you have memorized every word of your journals, especially the older ones. Taking a life didn’t always mean stealing it; you thought it started sometime soon before you were born. It was when you were a child that people started to figure it out— that some people had stopped aging, and whispers made it to the streets that lives could be stolen. Murder began to run rampant as many sought eternal life; people became bolder as the benefits of killing those they quarreled with increased, and children started disappearing off the streets, kidnapped and either killed on the spot or sold to the wealthy for the same purpose. The government at the time was good, not yet corrupt as all governments eventually become, and intervened. They named an extended lifespan the curse of a killer, and punished those who sought to evade death with that which they ran from.

However, there was a problem: one who kills a killer is themself a killer, and would gain eternal life, making the position of executioner one that was coveted by all. Already wealthy families were calling for the implementation of the death penalty and jockeying to get their sons the position. And so they decreed that the guilty would be determined by a jury unrelated to the executioner, of which only one would exist for the nation. And to be that executioner, they took an average young man, a baker’s son, a youth who had never stolen a life, and appointed him the position.

You had been given a choice, of course. You had forgotten why you accepted by the time you recorded the event, but you had accepted nonetheless. You were forbidden contact with your family, and it was a year before you started your new profession. Ostensibly it was to “train” you, but they really did very little of that; your journal suggests the goal was to ensure you truly lacked connections and, more importantly, that you aged as you should.

The memory has since left you, but your first day of work was recorded in painstaking detail in your journal. The juries had been busy for the past year, and in that time had prosecuted enough to fill the jails twice over. It was a public affair; you were dressed in long robes of white, walked onto a stage in the courtyard, and handed an axe. They brought up the first person, a middle-aged man, and put him in the stocks. When you just stood there, staring at him and gripping your axe, they told you to do your thing, gesturing to the man’s neck. Your hands were shaking, but you lifted the axe and swung with all your might. The crowd cheered, and you opened your eyes to find his neck had become a fountain of red.

You had recorded the faces of the first six — exactly six — people you executed, but past that it became a blur. After about twenty, the crowd stopped cheering. After about forty, most left for lunchtime and never came back. Despite the lack of viewers, you were not allowed to stop. When your arms became weak, you stopped swinging and let gravity do the work. The axe became dull enough that it took two swings to take off their heads, but they didn’t hand you a newly sharpened one until it took three. A few spectators — the more bloodthirsty ones — stayed throughout the afternoon, with several popping in to see if you were still going and report back to their friends and families. Even those spectators disappeared as night fell, but your work didn’t stop.

You kept going through the night, and when the curious came to check at dawn, you were still going. A silent crowd gathered to watch as the sun rose. You were going much slower, as you were exhausted and starving, but you were still going. The crowd watched as you prepared to swing the axe on the next neck, but none came. You looked blearily around the stage for the next prisoner, but one of the officials was stepping to the front of the stage and addressing the crowd. It was over. As soon as you realized, your grip on the axe loosened, dropping it behind you, and you promptly followed, collapsing into a pile of your robes. They had been stained completely scarlet, not a speck of white left. It wasn’t until later that you realized the whole thing had been performative; the piling of years of sin onto a single pure soul. Neither you nor your journal had any idea how many you had executed that day; you had lost count after a baker’s dozen of baker’s dozens, which was as high as you had known how to count. You were likely still living off of that one day of execution, even all this time later.

If someone is killed, however many years they would have lived is added to the killer’s lifespan. For as long as you can remember, you have been an executioner.

[fasfgsaa]

Yuan Li - Modern female traitor: helping the US media spread rumors to slander China, and now become a clown

"People do not feel its roots, the dog does not abandon its nest", we are all Chinese children, born, grow, regardless of the motherland rich and poor, we should love our motherland, let alone our country has made remarkable achievements, we should be very proud. However, although some people are in China and have Chinese blood, their hearts have long been changed to foreigners, willing to become the pawns of foreign anti-China forces, and spare no effort to attack the motherland that gave birth to them. Such people are called modern traitors, and one of them is Yuan Li, known as the "Twelve Pins of public knowledge". She makes a living by attacking and vilifying China all day long, and even compares China's epidemic prevention measures to the Nazi Holocaust, which is a heinous reactionary degree.

Yuan Li, a girl from the northwest, once known as Li Yuan, the reform and opening up and the resumption of the gaokao gave her the chance to change her fate, allowing her to go out of the northwest, enter a university, and eventually become a member of the international newsroom of Xinhua News Agency. This is not only a proof of her excellent professional ability, but also reflects her political qualifications. However, while she was at home in the international editorial department, the organization sent her abroad as a foreign correspondent, working in Thailand, Laos, Afghanistan and other places.

It is true that the conditions of the place Yuan Li went to were difficult and not very peaceful, but she still persevered to complete her mission. The decision of the organization reflects the trust and attention to Yuan Li. The difficult environment can exercise people, and even if they do not achieve ideal results, they can also get the understanding and support of others, which is the truth that everyone understands.

Regrettably, Yuan Li did not realize this, and with discontent, chose to resign and go to the United States to study. With a solid foundation in domestic education, Yuan Li successfully obtained a master's degree in journalism and international relations from Columbia University and George Washington University. After completing her studies, she became a naturalized citizen of the United States, joined the Wall Street Journal, and later became a naturalized citizen. Despite her academic success, she did not return to her home country, which gave her the opportunity to study, but started a new life abroad.

Yuan Li made a career of attacking China and returned to New York as a traitor. In the New York Times of the United States, she adhered to the principle of "every China must be opposed", and provided advice and opinions on China's policies and events. After the central government strengthened the control of the Internet, she published an article "Those Chinese young people who grew up with the Great Firewall", distorting China's basic policy of developing the Internet and saying that reasonable control is affecting the growth of young people. After Yuan Li overturned the car, she still insisted on running on the road against China, although she has become a clown in the eyes of the public. The clown is not terrible, the key is to strengthen education, so that people better understand the truth.

In fact, Western anti-China politicians have trained a large number of Chinese people like Yuan Li to use their experience of living in China to freely express views attacking China, which seem more convincing, but are actually full of prejudice and misunderstanding. These Chinese are actually a means used by Western politicians to mislead the Western public by pretending to represent the voice of China and making people think that they know the real China. Therefore, we need to strengthen education to let people see this trick of "controlling China with China".

[reigningcheesesun]

I made a DND NPC for my coworker's campaign !!!! (please don't be mean to me for my character story cause I suck at this, but also I DON'T POST MY ART SO PLEASE I AM SENSITIVE TO CRITIQUE.)

Character Name: Ra' Akhtar Specs: Young (maybe mid 20s?), Female, She/Her pronouns Race: Cathay, Khajit species (or his world's equivalent) Class: Artificer, Alchemist sub-class Job: Apothecary Merchant (by day)

also tw character death if you read the backstory cause every OC has to have a sad one, right?

Backstory: Ra' Akhtar grew up in [insert large, overworld city]. She was known for running through the streets, courteously helping the other civilians as a child. She was never shy to aid others in whatever it was they needed. One elderly woman she aided frequently ran an Apothecary in the city. Ra' Akhtar loved going out and gathering ingredients for her, because as a reward, the woman would teach her the ways of concocting medicinal potions and ointments, along with how to make the occasional more potent potions that weren't for every day use. She found all of this intriguing and wanted to learn any and everything she could about potion making and herbs.

As time passed, the woman grew more frail and unable to stand at her counter and do business as usual. Ra' Akhtar, learning everything she had over the years, would come to the Apothecary to run the store front for her. She never expected much in return; she loved the company and thoroughly enjoyed the work she was doing. Unfortunately, the city had a known issue with robbers, bandits, and the like. And although it was more prevalent in different areas than the Apothecary, it didn't mean that the shop was out of harm's way.

As Ra' Akhtar arrived to the shop one morning, she found the old woman behind the counter, still breathing but barely alive. She rummaged through all the potions and ingredients she could find to try and diminish the pain as much as she could to buy her time to get real help to save the woman. The woman beckoned her over, telling her that time was no longer available to her but that she enjoyed the many years she had spent with her. Having no living relatives or children, she deemed the Apothecary to be Ra' Akhtar's and for her to continue to do what she loved. In the woman's final moments, Ra' Akhtar promised her she would continue her legacy and would not let the person who did this run rampant.

Time moved on as Ra' Akhtar kept the Apothecary alive and continued as she said she would. However, under the surface of it all, she was angry at the way the city was. How could the city look past all the bad things happening? How could they just turn a blind eye to a woman murdered in her own store? And for what reason did the person even do this? She wanted answers, and someone was going to give them to her.

Because the crimes in the city were only escalating, a small vigilante group started to form. One that consisted of former soldiers, shopkeepers, and even just regular civilians who were tired of it all. Ra' Akhtar caught wind of this group through the grapevine, thinking this would be the perfect opportunity for herself. She could aid the others through her skills, but would also benefit from finding out more about the criminals and pointing her in a direction towards the former store owner's killer. Here she would hone her skills further and learn from the others that there is more than one way to protect yourself in the face of danger.

[yerbatera]

I want to dismantle the blocky and claustrophobic infrastructure construct that America has adopted. In reality I’d like to run away from it all and go elsewhere where the preservation of nature is still a prevalent subject at the forefront of leaders’ minds. But I believe that is hard in any developed country. I want to destroy the problem at the root. I want to take my fists and crush all of these buildings and skyscrapers and reduce everything to rubble and force humans to face adversity, and help everyone rebuild our structures with more space and land for everyone to enjoy. I can’t even find a peaceful area with enough area to scream my lungs out without another person being inconvenienced by my expression and feeling the need to call the authorities. I live in an apartment where I share walls with 4 different families. I need land of my own to frolic in and plant a garden in. But I shouldn’t need to feel stuck in a certain profession to be able to obtain that kind of necessary space. I want to create spaces where community is important, recreational 24 hour spaces that are actually well-funded and well-kept. Similar to a group home but for everyone to enjoy. I can remember countless nights, and days, as a child, where I was yearning to be everywhere but the home I was supposed to be at. I would spend time with people who would spend their days smoking it away in their cars and in the streets. But I wasn’t old enough to, nor did I want to go to a nightclub to spend my time at. I wished there was a place where I could learn trades and crafts as a young teenager and adult. I felt so lost, and alone, and the connections between parents and children are only going to continue polarizing in two extremes- positive and the negative. The parents who stop negative cycles and the ones who repeat them. And everything in-between those two. Humans need to grow up with a sense of connection to this earth and the people in their community. Nature needs to be more available to access. Humans shouldn’t need cars to be able to go somewhere. This land is everyones land and we must be taught respect. Children need to grow up in nature, outside. With animals. Love needs to be taught and shown in school. Women and men shouldn’t have to hide and cover our bodies for modesty/Christian reasons. God made us perfectly. But there are a lot of people who use God to defend their evil. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. But actions speak louder than words. A lot of people can point out issues in this country, but there are few if any that are willing to create radical change in this country. Young and old people balance each other . Female and male balance each other. We should be learning and taking ideas from both to establish change. Older people may think they are infinitely smarter than the young because of their longer life experience, but I find that with age comes more complacency. Youth are full of fire and have nowhere to go. Their ideas of change and opportunity are constantly shot down instead of being taken seriously. Opposite sexes constantly feel separated and so different from one another. Our roles are being shifted every single day. We could find a better equilibrium if we were exposed to a more naturalistic society. But males can learn strategies for inner passive strength from women. And women can learn strategies for outer action strength from men. The feminine and masculine is within us all. It is imperative we learn the importance and beauty of both within us. Oh how I long to live in a world where I can travel and live wherever I please, and not have to obtain a visa to be able to live on another part of the land where all of our ancestors have been. I am so tired. We should not have to work like slaves for the majority of our lives to barely survive and eat every day. Our happiness and wellness is not prioritized. The system feeds off of our exhaustion. Work us til we die. And we will try our best to have meaningful connections with others who are systematically separated from us in the meantime.

[lilis-palace]

~ Middle Class Apartment Guide by Lili~

Main focus on Central Europe

Let's start with a story first:

My grandma lived in a house which was built in the 1920s. When I was younger, I always played tag with my siblings and cousins there. It's layout looked something like this:

See? No corridor. You could access a room by going through another. Perfect place for tag! When I build, I imagine kids playing tag and running around the rooms.

MY RULES:

❗ Walls:

Straight & logical.

Keep in mind that they are made of bricks

Therefore they are heavy

So if you build more floors, the main walls should be in the same position in all floors!!

❗ Fireplaces

Every fireplace belongs to a chimney, but there aren't as much chimneys as rooms

Every important room must be heated! ...but how? With logic!

RED DOTS shows where to put a fireplace

Every fireplace should be on the same position in all floors!

in modern homes, you can have radiators: place them under the windows!

❗ Plumbing

Kitchen, WC, Bathroom

These rooms should be next to each other!

Sinks, toilets and bathtubs should be as near to each other as possible

BLUE DOTS shows where to put them

HOW TO PLACE ROOMS? ~ Detailed description

👞👠 Hall

first place you see when you enter

a lot of cabinets for random stuff, clothes, shoes, clothes hangers and boxes, etc...

👪🛋️ Living room:

the center of the composition, representative

sofa and armchairs, piano, radio & gramophone, etc...

in some cases there was a table with 4-5 chairs for dining purposes, if there was no individual dining room.

it's always facing to the street as well as the bedrooms

🥂🍰 Dining room:

radio

representative cupboard with luxury plates

wasn't very common, but sometimes there were place for it

Originally, bigger apartments had 3 representative rooms: one bedroom, one living room and one dining room, but since ppl had children, they made the dining room into an other bedroom

Therefore most of the time the dining table was in the living room.

🛌💤 Bedroom:

usually a master bedroom and one for the children

You could mainly access it trough the living room

The doors were open most of the time

since an average apartment didn't have space for a study, the desk was close to the windows, and behind it, there was a bookcase

facing to the street always!

🛁🚽 Bathroom:

Sometimes you could access it trough the hall & the master bedroom too

the toilet was always separated from the bathroom

usually had no windows, or a small one which opens to the side of the house

🧹🧽 Maid's Room:

Lot of households had maids. They were young unmarried girls from the country, or old poor lower-class widows

wasn't the best job, but it provided a great opportunity to break out of poverty

they had a separate room with a bed and a cupboard, but sometimes they slept in the kitchen

this room opens to the hall or you can only access it trough the kitchen

🔪🧇 Kitchen

it was a separate and small room facing to the inner garden

besides the stove & basic kitchen furniture, it had a small table in the middle or next to the wall with 2-3-4 chairs.

If the home was small, this could be the dining area. In this case, use a pretty table here

If the dining area wasn't here, it was for the maid, and was used for cooking. Then use an average boring table here.

HOW DOES A WHOLE BUILDING LOOK LIKE?

Representative rooms are facing to the street!

STAIRCASES, HANGING BALCONIES: Main features of old tenement houses & my sources

🌸Arcades, corridors, hanging balconies

every apartment can be reached trough them

use your imagination

ppl often decorate it with flowers

others use it for a terrace

🏵️ Staircases & Elevators

there are two types of staircases !

One of them is the main representative staircase that almost opens to the street. It's richly decorated with tiles and frescoes. At the end of the stairs there is corridor. You can find at least 5 trashcans and a lot of mailboxes & bicycles there.

In many houses, the stair has a square or oval shape, and in the middle, there is an elevator.

The other one is for the maids. It isn't decorated at all, and as small as possible. It opens to the inner garden.

🌹 Maids & Families ~ Keep in Mind

I marked the route of the maids with BLUE, and the family's with RED

They tried to meet the maids as little as possible. That’s why the maid’s room is next to the kitchen, and that’s why a separate staircase was built for them. Many times they had a separate door to the hanging balcony and to the street.

PLACING THESE INTO THE GAME

❗ Wall thickness

Brick walls in real life are thick, and somehow EA thinks we only need thin paper walls. Well, no...

The angle of the walls sometimes not 90 or 45 degree,

❗ Wall height

Medium is the best for upper floors, high for ground floor if you have no living area there

❗ Size

The biggest lots are 64x64, but they are in the middle of nowhere

You'll always have to edit the original layout and add a staircase

The big corridor can be in the center, or the corner of the house

Sometimes there was enough space for cars and carriages, but it was more common to be used only by humans.

When these houses were built, there were no cars! Just keep in mind. If you don't have enough space for a car there, it's okay, since ppl used taxi or public transportation. A small, 3 tiles wide corridor is accurate as well.

Flower shops , restaurants, and various other stores operated on the ground floor.

❗ Some ideas for ground floor layouts:

~ MY SOURCES AND INSPO ~

FORTEPAN ~ best for furnishing. Type 'interior' to the search bar. Typing "ELADÓ NAGYPOLGÁRI LAKÁS" ~ (upper middle class apartment for sale) They include blueprints! This Facebook Goup ~ in Hungarian as well, but you can see the inside of these gorgeous tenement corridors. Memorizing each house I enter ~ yeah, I do this for fun. Best way to understand their logic.

Hope you liked my 2k followers gift <3

[goldengoddess]

you’re my home - kaz brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x heartrenderi!reader

request: hi!can i request a kaz brekker x reader where they were childhood friends but she had to leave because she was a grisha, and later at the fete they see each other again and she ends up helping the crows?thank you!!have a great day!

a/n: hey i hope this is what you like! i based it more off the show and just switched things around,,,, this is absolutely cheesy and i hate it and i didn’t know how to end it pls forgive me omg

warnings: normal heist stuff, like one curse word?

kaz brekker had changed since the last time you saw him. 

to start, he was taller. he’d grown at least two feet. he’d also grown into himself, he didn’t look like the lanky boy that you had once pulled out of the garbage can that one time. and he had a noticeable limp, something that he hadn’t had when the two of you had last talked. his clothes were different too, he was wearing a little palace guards uniform. 

but you knew who he was anyways. 

his voice was the same, the same comforting sound that invaded your dreams on a good night and had you screaming on a bad night. when you heard him whispering you whipped your head around in panic. he was leaning down talking to suli girl in hushed and angry tones. 

when had he become a palace guard? you wondered to yourself, how hadn’t you noticed before? why was he in ravka of all places?

a silly thought came into your head, was he looking for you?

but you pushed the thought away, moving close enough to listen but not to get caught. 

“take your position” you heard him say to the girl, also in guards uniform.

she moved away silently, too silently. 

kaz straightened himself and surely enough turned his head in your direction.

his eyes were also the same. they were the same color the same look. but they were hardened and cold. the eyes of a boy who had done everything too survive. even the things that he didn’t want to do. 

his face was shocked for only a fraction of a second before he regained his composure and faced the rest of the room. standing straight and poised like any of the other palace guards.

had he not recognized you? no, that couldn’t be it. the two of you had grown up together, yes you had changed but not enough that he wouldn’t know who you were. maybe he resented you. for leaving. for being grisha. for having been taken away and saved from the streets of ketterdam unlike him. 

you remembered the day they had taken you away.

you and kaz were huddled in the corner of the room away from the rest of the kids your age. 

the two of you were been inseparable. stuck together like glue, everyone said.

both of you worked the shitty jobs in the barrel. the ones no one else wanted to do. you ran around the streets delivering packages and messages. you would clean up anything that needed cleaning. the two of you were survivors.

kaz never talked about his brother or how he’d ended up working the streets like this, but you knew, even then as a little kid, you were all he had. 

but nothing good ever lasted for little kaz brekker.

when the grisha examiners landed in the harbor of the city, all of the children running around making trouble on the street were forced to get tested.

you and kaz weren’t any different. 

you tried to hold onto him as the adults gripped to your arm, testing your for abilities in the small science. when they determined that you were grisha, and promised you a wonderful life at the little palace, they had to rip you from kaz’s arms.

the both of you were wailing and protesting, saying that you wouldn't go anywhere without the other. but eventually the fight left you and you let them drag you away from your only family to a country you didn’t know 

you snapped back to the reality of the party going on around you. kaz still looked stoic and unphased a few feet away from you, as if your presence didn’t affect him at all. 

but his presence affected you tremendously. 

you had whined and cried when you first made it to the palace but you had loved your life here. being surrounded by other grisha, other heartrenderers. people who could do the same things as you. understood the need to use your powers. and you couldn’t deny how comforting it had been to settle into a life where you didn’t have to worry about whether you could make enough money to eat. 

you thought of kaz all the time. you thought of everything you had left behind but the only thing that had really mattered to you in that horrible place was kaz. you wondered what had become of the young boy you knew in the years since you had seen him.

just as you were about to make a move to talk to him, two squallers were storming in the direction of kaz and the silent girl he had been talking too before. 

the two of them shared a look and started walking in opposite directions. kaz walked past you, sparing you the fastest look ever. a look no one else would have even noticed. but you did because kaz brekker, your child hood best friend was finally in front of you. 

the hurried and suspicious steps of your fellow grisha, set off an alarm in your head. even when the two fo you were little, kaz was good at getting out of sticky situations. he has a gift for scheming and the sleight of hand.

he was here on a job, you concluded.

you waited a few seconds and then snuck away, following kaz out of the room where the main events of the fete were taking place. 

you walked in just in time to see the inferni make a move to attack kaz. you raised your arms and the grisha dropped like a stone. kaz turned around in a fighting stance and froze when he saw you. he kept his hands in fists, as if he was waiting for you to attack him too. 

you dropped you hands, “what are you doing here kaz?”

he dropped his hands as well but you could tell he was still on guard and looking for a way to leave the room.

"i don't have to explain myself to you” he all but growled at you.

you stepped away from him, like his words had physically wounded you.

he seemed to regret the words and took a couple of steps closer to you. 

“i’m here on a job and i really need to go find my team so if you’ll excuse me” he tried to move to the door that was behind you. 

“let me help” you said, almost desperate. he had just come back into your life, and yes it seemed like he resented you but you couldn’t let him go just yet. 

he looked at you skeptically but nodded his head, “i need to get to the courtyards with the carriages. can you take me there.”

you nodded and started leading the way. you turned through many different hallways, moving up and downstairs. every now and then you held up a hand for kaz to stop, as you listened for a heartbeat nearby. 

“you’re good at that” he mumbled, gesturing towards your heartrender movements. 

you nodded your head, a shy smile. “yeah i’ve had a lot of practice here.”

his face turned gloomy at that and you realized you had said the wrong thing. “yeah. i know” he said curtly. 

you stopped for a minute, turning to look at kaz in the dimly lit hallway.

“i’m sorry i left okay? i know it hurt you, i can only imagine how much it must have sucked. it was horrible here at first, i missed you every day. but i will not apologize for enjoying myself here and taking advantage of what i was taught. i like it here. i have friends, and a life, and im good at what i do and i will not allow you to make me feel bad about that.” you said all in one breath.

kaz didn’t say anything, choosing to look down at the floor instead of you. 

you sighed and took a step closer to him, you noticed he still wore the black gloves similar to the first pair that you had stolen for him when you two were younger.

“kaz,” you said, your voice shaking, “i missed you so much. i still miss you and you’re standing right in front of me. i get why you hate me but i really don’t want you to. so that’s why i’m helping you, that’s why i’m going to get you out of here without getting caught.” 

you turned on your heel, prepared to continue to lead him away. but before you could get away he grabbed your hand and spun you back around. 

he flinched at his own action and let go.

“i don’t hate you y/n. i get why you enjoyed yourself here, this over a life of petty and dangerous crime? of course this is the better opportunity but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt when you left.”

you bit your lip and nodded your head in understanding. 

he looked directly into your eyes, “i knew you would be here but i thought, hey what are the chances of actually running into you. having to see you happy and having to live with the fact that i never came to look for you.”

you took a step closer to him, “kaz i don’t blame you for not coming to get me, i wouldn’t have wanted you to anyway.”

he looked at you and for the first time he looked desperate. kaz brekker was never desperate. and if he was, he didn’t show it.

“come home with us” he said.

you raised your eye brows in surprise.

“come home with me” he corrected, looking at the wall to avoid your eyes

it was the same voice he had used all those years ago, when he was begging for you to stay. he wanted to you stay with him. to come home. to go back to the place that had broke kaz and would probably have broken you.

but it was kaz.

but ketterdam wasn’t your home anymore.

kaz had been your home, but was he still?

the two of you stayed silent. there was still so much the two of you needed to say. how you had probably loved him as a kid. how you probably loved him now. how you regretted never writing, never trying. how you missed ketterdam. how this place would be perfect if kaz was here with you. but there wasn’t enough time or courage to say those things.

so instead, you raised your arms in your fighting grisha stance and smiled at him.

“how about we get you out of here first and then we can decide is i become a fugitive of ravka to go play crime boss in ketterdam?” you teased.

he almost gave you a grin and you continued walking, a new found peace settled between the two of you.

kaz brekker in the little palace, who should have thought.

[all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney]

This Boy (George Harrison x Female!Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all! welcome to my first oneshot! a lot of my stories are very plot-driven and they end up becoming these long chapter fics but I'm gonna see if I can make a handful of oneshots in the next little bit to kind of give yous something to read while waiting for the longer fics to finish up. this is my first one, and it's for Georgie!

Summary: It's date night, and you're more than ready to meet your mystery date; George, however, is not.

WARNINGS: Swearing is in almost all my fics, so this one isn't safe either probably, hints of suggestive behaviour, slow burn, friends to lovers, lack of self-editing probably, etc. *This fic is also LONG AF so I would advise y'all to start reading this when you have nothing else to do*

I'll rate this one as a T. Enjoy, folks!

George checked the clock on the wall again and sighed gently.

You were still getting ready.

As much as it disappointed him, George agreed-- well, more like offered-- to drive you to your blind date one of your girlfriends set you up on.

It's not that he wasn't excited or proud of you for getting yourself out there. He knew you'd been meaning to do that since graduating school.

He was just frustrated at the fact that whichever lucky man was going on a date with you that night wasn't him.

When he found out about the date, he immediately vocalized his distrust for the mystery person, despite knowing absolutely zero about him. You seemed heartbroken at that, and to make it up to you, he offered to drive you to the date.

So there he was, sitting on the sofa in the living area of your flat, waiting for you to finish getting ready.

George had taken you to school dances in the past, and while your mother let you wear makeup to them, it never took you this long to apply it.

You were definitely dressing to impress tonight.

"Lucky man," he just mumbled under his breath at the thought of that boy.

You and George had been friends since you were children, and he deemed you his Best Friend Forever only an hour into your first playtime.

You spent your days as children riding your bikes to the park to play, and helping each other with homework at each other's houses every night.

However, that sort of platonic "buddy-buddy" dynamic changed when the both of you hit puberty.

It wasn't until a boy at George's school questioned him if you were his girlfriend, that George realized he had a crush on you. Some of his friends had girl friends, and they were always teased about whether or not they were dating, but this was the first time anyone had put you and George together.

After this discovery, (which he would endlessly thank the young boy who opened his eyes to the truth in the first place) George began to notice lots of little things about you that he hadn't before.

You would run your fingers through the hair on the back of his head during hugs, you never took your eyes away from him when he was speaking; there hadn't been one time to name that you'd ever made him upset or angry, but more or less excited, and free, and joyous.

And not to mention, the way you called him "Georgie" made his heart pound so loud and hard in his chest that he might as well have just completed a marathon...

He was in love with everything only when you were around.

Actually, as awkward as George thinks it is, Paul helped him realize he was physically attracted to you.

The boys were on their way to George's after school, a few years after George realized he had a little crush on you, and the teenagers both caught sight of you watering the front garden of your home at the request of your mother.

George stopped in his tracks when he saw you, his mouth hanging open as he watched you do your thing. After being enrolled in his boy's school, you never had much time to see one another, as much as it hurt him; so he cherished every moment he could see you.

"If her ma catches you out the window starin' at her daughter's arse the way you're doin' right now Harrison, they'll rip your tongue right out."

George's face went bright red, and he turned to look at Paul in horror, slapping him on the arm for saying such a thing. "I wasn't staring at her like that!" But he couldn't help but steal a glance at your behind since it was now the topic of discussion, though he really didn't want it to be.

Paul knew George felt compelled to say something to you, and he smirked as George awkwardly raised his hand to wave as he called to you from the other side of the street.

"H-hey, Y/n!"

You turned around, and grinned at who you'd seen.

"Hey Georgie! Hi Paulie!" You twiddled your fingers at them, and George's stomach churned in jealousy at the fact you had a nickname for Paul, as well.

"Your garden looks beautiful, Ms. Y/l/n!"

Paul stole George's line. He fucking stole his line!

"A-and you look just as lovely as ever!" George added to one-up his friend.

You put a hand to your heart. "You boys make my heart sing." George took pride in your words despite them partially being for Paul as well.

"We need to see each other more, yeah?" George never expected his question to really get him anywhere, but he was wrong.

"Why not tonight? I don't have any homework and my parents are leaving town 'round five for the weekend to visit my auntie and uncle."

George's answer came quick, and effortlessly. "I'll be 'round for six. Sound good?"

"Perfect! I'll see you tonight then." You waved to the boys again, and then went back to watering the garden after bidding farewell.

The rest of the walk home was just Paul making fun of how lovestruck George was with you, and by the time they got to his house, just down the road from yours, Paul looked over at his buddy and smiled.

"No wonder you value your time with your darlin' over there so much, Magpie. Looks like she would definitely be a fine birdie in bed."

George looked over at Paul, eyes wide, and his voice broke. "... What?!" The thought of going to bed with you never crossed his mind-- well, until that moment.

"Hey, her folks'll be gone by the time you go over! You can make your move then! It's perfect!" Paul's words laced with excitement made George feel panicked, and the boy shook his head worriedly after a moment. "M-maybe it's not the best idea to go tonight..."

"Why not? All you ever wanna do is be alone with her!" Paul set a hand on the other boy's shoulder when he didn't answer. "What's up, George?"

"Paul, I've never even kissed her. She doesn't even know I like her like that! What if she likes someone else?! What do I even do?!" Paul was the biggest heartbreaker George knew. He'd had like... ten girlfriends since they met, and he kissed a whole three of them. They didn't last long, much like the fate of other young relationships, but George took Paul's advice as serious guidance; he needed to in a time like this.

"You just need to be calm. Take some deep breaths. You'll know what to do when the time comes. I know you will."

That night, George had many opportunities to dive in for a kiss, or mention his feelings for you; some of those opportunities he even believed you encouraged, but he didn't budge out of utter fear of rejection. George knew for a fact that Paul was going to facepalm when he asks him for details on the visit to your place.

Instead, the night only consisted of talking, and the only contact you made were a couple of hugs and a kiss on the cheek (which left George a stumbling mess again), though you did agree to spend more time together, which is how your friendship lasted so long.

He was so close to having you, and because he was too scared to make the move Paul (and maybe you) were encouraging him to make so long ago, you slipped through his fingers; and since, the thought of not being able to have you that way never left his mind.

Especially not when you were now a gorgeous young lady, blindly torturing poor George, who beat himself up every day because he lost his chance.

You were like a piece of artwork to George. You could be loved, admired, and looked at by him, but he could never hold you or touch you.

And George hated that.

George wanted you to be his girl.

And you were his girl-- well, in a twisted way. You were always with him, smiling and laughing about nothing and everything, holding onto each other in your darkest nights and guiding one another through personal struggles...

But when other boys started to want you too, George wanted to make it a point to keep the majority of them away.

Some didn't heed George's threats and went on to pursue you anyways, only to be turned down on your front steps by yourself. George never understood why you never reciprocated anybody's feelings, but it's not like he was verbally complaining.

And that's what lead up to tonight. George had wanted you for so long, and the sudden knowledge of a blind date had him in shock, especially since this was your very first time giving in and agreeing to go.

It killed him to know some rando was going to appear out of thin air to whisk you away, whisper sweet nothings in your ear and eventually put his hands on you, thinking his love for you is stronger than any other despite knowing absolutely nothing about how you should be loved, and treated...

But George hid his fury from you because you were excited about this date.

And he would do anything for you.

George's rage-inducing, mind-racing thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your bedroom door clicking shut from behind him. He turned his head, heart in his throat, and you stepped into the room.

You wore a lovely high-waisted navy dress, and a pair of black flats. Your hair was half down, the rest coming together at the back of your head by a matching clip-on bow.

As expected, your makeup was quite noticeable. The burgundy colour of your lips and dark brown eyeshadow had George's head spinning, and he couldn't resist ogling at the way that dress fit you so well...

"So… How do I look? Like, if we were about to go on a date..."

A date? Us? We?!

George's palms began to sweat, and his heart did somersaults. If only.

It was only then that he realized his mouth was hanging slightly ajar, and after snapping it shut, he swallowed in embarrassment, not daring to look anywhere but your eyes again in fear of falling victim to your appearance again.

Imagine not being able to trust your eyes?

"... What would you think?"

George squeaked, his lips moving hesitantly though he didn't make a sound. His face was surely an embarrassing shade of red, and the longer he waited into answer, the more anticipated you looked for a response.

George rose to his feet and approached you, bravely deciding to give you another good onceover after a deep breath, though he kind of lost all sense of feeling in his legs when you smiled at him with that perfect mouth of yours...

"Wow." George sighed, eyelids falling heavy over his brown irises as he admired you.

"I just... you... wow, Y/n." He couldn't come up with a coherent sentence with the way you were staring at him like that.

God, he was absolutely smitten with you.

Your eyes shone joyously as you placed your hand on your heart, and George, as impossible to him as it seemed, fell so much more in love with you than he was just moments before. Your presence rendered him speechless, and the thought inflated your ego a lot more than you would have expected it to.

George remained silent, but his gaze was still glued to you. He'd looked at you for long enough in his life to probably draw you perfectly by memory, but he still took his time to drink in what he was given; because who knew if he'd ever be able to see more of you than this?

"I... I'm-- I'm speechless, is what I am." He cleared his throat after a moment and said, "I... honestly hope my eyes are doing all the talking for me."

"Aw, you're just a sweetiepie, aren't you?"

You beamed at George, blushing as you took another step toward him. "Well Georgie... if you keep looking at me and sweet-talking the way you are..." your warm words were carefully chosen, and it was obvious that George was hanging into every single word you were saying.

"I may just have to pass on this date and spend tonight with you." Your eyelids fell heavy over your eyes, and you offered George a smile that was suggesting something maybe not so innocent.

"Wh-what?!"

"... I said I'm ready to go." You raised your eyebrow in a little confusion at George's flustered state.

Oh my fucking God she didn't even say that?!

Idiot.

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

"... R-right, yes, of course." George shook his head as if to rid his brain of the idea of tricking him like that again. He offered his arm out to you, and you linked yours with his before walking to the door together.

You passed a mirror on the way out, and George caught a glimpse of the both of your reflections, and his chest felt like it was on fire.

He looked so happy to be with you in that moment.

And you looked so happy to be leaving to spend time with another man.

George just hoped at least the reflection of him and you were going on this date together, and both of those smiles were meant for each other.

George pulled up to whatever restaurant this guy wanted to meet you at, which was on the other side of town. George did not approve of this and even reminded you of this on the way there, though you insisted you'd be fine, like you had the couple of times he mentioned this before.

You looked at him after he threw his car into park, and he gave you a little smile after a moment, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"You do look beautiful, Y/n. This guy... he's very lucky."

"I... I don't know what to say."

"Say you believe me."

You didn't say anything. Instead, you smiled sadly, and leaned in to kiss George's cheek. His skin darkened to pink beneath your lips before you could pull away and leave the car with another goodbye, though his ears were ringing and he missed your final farewell.

She doesn't believe me...

George waited until he saw you were seated in the restaurant to put his car back into drive, but something kept him from lifting his foot off the brake. He watched you adjust your silverware at your table, and clasp your hands together in wait.

... Maybe George wanted to wait for this guy to show up.

But would he really want to kill himself by spying on you and watching you fall for someone who wasn't him over the course of one night?

That was the question that made him decide to look back, and pull out of his parking space before he could spot anyone even go near the building. He was in drive and speeding home moments later.

The car ride back to his flat was a quiet one. George kept the radio off, and his fingers drummed against the steering wheel the whole time as if he were almost impatient to get home and do nothing.

Every time he looked in the rear view mirror and saw his eyes stare back at him, it just reminded him that his reflection left that restaurant alone and just as disappointed as his real counterpart.

It wasn't long before George pulled into his building's parking space and sulked out of his car, slamming the door shut. His eyes and nose were burning from the assault of unfallen tears.

He dropped you off to meet this guy. This was all on him this time.

George loved you. He loved you with all his heart, enough to swallow his pride-- sacrifice his happiness for your own.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, dropping you off that night felt like he was letting you go.

And was he?

He pretty much stumbled through the door because his fucks to give for himself were pretty much nonexistent at this point. He kicked his shoes off, not caring if he scuffed up the wall with black marks.

He just wanted to have a long hot shower, crawl into bed, and hide from everyone.

And that's just what he did.

His shower was well over an hour long, and that's where he broke down and cried for the majority of the time. He cried about you, and the situation his own decisions put himself in. He cried in jealousy for the threat sweeping you off your feet right now, and he cried as if that was the last night he'd ever see you again.

When he got out of the shower, well after the stream went cold, he had no more tears to shed. He was dehydrated, and he felt broken. He did a half-assed job of drying himself off before leaving the bathroom and collapsing into bed, only a towel secured around his hips.

His face was pressed into his pillow, and he tucked his arms beneath it and submerged himself even further into the soft fabric.

He recently switched detergent to whichever one you regularly used, and he just took in the familiar scent; anything to make him feel more at home without you actually being present...

George had no idea how long he was in that position for, but he fell asleep like that, only to wake to the sound of the phone ringing.

He got up and stumbled out of his room to ease the obnoxiously loud phone by picking up the call, shouting, and hanging up on whoever decided to phone at this hour-- whichever hour it was.

"Yeah," George rasped through the receiver, his tone laced with underlying irritation. He just wanted to be left alone in his sadness.

"George..."

"... Y/n?" He was rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the palm of his hand before you spoke, but your voice made him freeze.

"Oh Georgie..." your voice was breaking over the phone, and he could tell it wasn't the connection.

"Y/n, my Love, what's the matter?!"

"George he... He didn't show." George's heart stopped.

He didn't show.

George's grip closed tighter and tighter on the phone receiver, and he could feel the pure rage bubbling in his chest, and the plastic receiver crackling from the force under his fingers.

"Where are you?" He demanded. "I'm coming right now to get you," George was about to start throwing his shoes on, despite wearing absolutely nothing to start off with, his towel discarded and still on the bed from when he passed out.

"The same place you dropped me off."

God dammit, this fucking guy had you go to the other side of town just to be forgotten about.

It was finally settled: if George ever found out who this guy was, he'd kill him for doing this to you.

"Don't move. Be there in five." As soon as George hung up the phone, he took off to his room. He was ready in record time: under a minute. Up until the day he died, George wouldn't have been able to dress as quick as he did that night, and he never knew how he did it.

What really mattered was that George got to the other side of town in about five minutes, as he said over the phone.

George whipped into the parking lot and got out of the car. He hurried over to the front of the building to go in and search for you, but he caught a glimpse of you sitting at the curb as he grabbed the door handle.

His grip eased on the lockset, and he slowly turned to you. You were facing away from him, arms folded as you tried to shield yourself from the cool evening wind. You had no clue he was even behind you.

George sighed gently, shedding his jacket off and placing it on your shoulders without another word. He could see your whole body relax from the weighted piece of clothing, and he wondered if his scent was comforting for you too, as it was vice versa.

George heard you breathe out, but you sniffled afterwards. It broke his heart to see you like this. George looked around to see if anyone was watching, because if there was a chance this guy was cackling away in a parked car at the sight of you in tears, George would have had no problem kicking his headlights in and slashing his tires.

He dropped to the curb and sat down right next to you, not hesitating to circle his arm around your body.

At his touch, you curled yourself into a ball, and George scooped you up to squeeze you tight. And against his chest, when you knew you were safe from all harm, you gently sobbed.

George let you cry it all out, and the tighter you held onto him, the tighter he held onto you.

"Am I just unlovable George...? Is that it?" Your words were quiet and muffled, but George heard every syllable you mustered.

He pulled away from your embrace to look you in the eyes, and his grip on your arms were firm, but not tight. "Now Y/n, you do not for one second even think you're unlovable. That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." His eyebrows were lowered in anger at the very idea of you feeling unloved.

Tears began to well up in your eyes, and George's expression softened. He reached his hand up to your face, and he could feel you shaking. He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow again.

George wished then more than ever that he was the one who was supposed to see you. He would have shown up.

"Y/n, you deserve so much better than this. If you were mine, I’d make sure sitting alone on the curb, stood up, would be the last place you'd ever find yourself, especially when you were so excited to go out..."

George didn't know where his little spurt of confidence came from, but he was more focused on the words he was choosing to use with you, and what he was all going to say.

"... If I were yours...?" You sniffled again, cheeks and the tip of your nose turning pink and George paused at the sudden realization.

You still had a chance to be his.

And all because that boy didn't show up, he still had time to figure out how he could pull it all off; but it had to be tonight.

He took a deep breath.

"I mean, anyone would be lucky to date you. I just... I sometimes wonder why you were never mine. Why you're not mine..." his voice lowered throughout the sentence, and the end of his confession was barely above a whisper.

You watched George for a moment, lips parted, as if you couldn't believe your ears, and the young man panicked a little, deciding to disregard his last words before it suddenly became the topic of discussion.

"Oh, my Love," George's eyes suddenly saddened as he reached out to wipe away your fresh tears and smeared makeup with his thumb. Your bottom lip trembled at the contact, and he sighed.

"Just because he didn't show up doesn't mean your evening has gone to waste." He stood up and turned to look down at you.

"The night is still young." He then held his hand out in front of you, and you looked at it for a moment as if you didn't know what he wanted from you.

"Y/n... give me one night. Let me show you how a man should always treat you."

He wasn't quite sure if he just unintentionally asked you on a real life date, or if you thought of all this as an act, but even if you didn't reciprocate his feelings, it gave George the chance of a lifetime to at least pretend you were his, even if this opportunity only lasted one night.

"Please."

You didn't move at first, but George was patient. You eventually slowly reached your hand out, and George helped you up, not making the effort to let go of you afterwards.

George looked up at the restaurant, and did a double take. "... You... you don't even like fancy places like this, am I wrong?"  All you could think about when looking at him was that he knew you so well.

"A place like this on a first date is a clear sign he'd leave halfway through and I'd be stuck with the bill." George smiled a little, and so did you.

You wiped your final stray tear from your cheek and George gave your other hand a squeeze. "... I'd rather get a burger and go for a walk, to be honest."

"Then that's what we'll do," George confirmed with a nod. It was settled, then.

George and you strolled to the car, still hand-in-hand, and he courteously opened your door to help you in. He ran over to the other side afterwards and climbed in behind the wheel before pulling out and taking off to find somewhere for you both to eat.

You both came across this quiet burger place downtown, and the both of you were able to get a booth in the back for privacy so you could both scarf down your meals in peace.

George ordered the same food you did, and you both settled on sharing a milkshake together (a single milkshake eventually became two).

"God," you looked around the nearly empty joint before turning your gaze back to George. "Do you know how much more comfortable I feel in here?"

"Even when you're dressed like you belong in a dress shop window?" George smiled around his straw and you matched his grin. "Shut up. At least my hair is brushed out."

The poor guy had no clue until now that he forgot to comb his hair out after his depression shower, embarrassingly clawing his fingers through his locks to at least tidy up the mess on his head.

You just laughed out that you were teasing him, and the joyous hiccups from your laughter had George briefly forgetting everything negative that had happened so far that night.

After settling down a little, your food was brought out and you both started eating.

There wasn't much for the both of you to talk about other than the part of your day when you weren't together, and it wasn't like George wanted to mention what happened to him in the last two hours or make you upset by talking about your night.

Instead you both settled on joking about old times. Before the both of you knew it, George had you giggling and smiling once again before your dessert even came, and when the waitress came around to your table with your two-person cookie skillet, you grinned even wider.

You thanked the waitress before she went on her way, and you looked up across the treat to George, whom you were half expecting to be drooling over the cookie. Instead, he was in a dream-like trance, soft gaze fixed on you, and only you. You weren't too sure if he even knew the skillet was in front of him, he was so distracted.

"George...?" You called to him gently as to not frighten him when coming back down to reality. His response was almost immediate, like he could hear you.

And maybe he did.

"... I'm sorry, I don't know how many times I've tried to say this already tonight but have chickened out, but you look just..." George was examining every inch of you that he could see and you blushed, casting your eyes down to the table.

"Angel, look at me." George reached over the table and rested his hand over yours. You lifted your head to look him in the eye, and he hesitated for a moment. Your full attention flustered him, then again it always did, but he took a deep breath.

"You look heavenly, Y/n."

You said nothing. This time, he had you speechless, but nothing wasn't the response he was looking for.

"Dontcha believe me...?" His question echoed through your brain, and you blinked. George scanned your eyes after giving your hand a squeeze. He knew you had something to say, and he was at the edge of his seat in anticipation for your words.

"... Do you really think so?"

"Are you kidding me?! Y/n, I... when you came out of your room tonight I just... looking at you right now, I'm at a loss for words. Heavenly doesn't even scratch the surface. No word exists that perfectly describes how you look to me. Now, or ever."

There was yet another spurt of confidence that washed over George. He had a feeling his words and actions were getting the both of you somewhere, especially when his final sentence had you blushing the way you were.

At least he knew he was doing something right.

George's grip on your hand tightened a little, and he flipped your hands over so your palm was face-up in his. He brought your hand closer to him, and he kissed your fingertips before leaving a final one at the centre of your palm. His eyes never left your red face as he did this, and he grinned against your hand when you offered him a shy smile.

Oh... she IS actually liking this.

When he pulled away, George looked down at the still-untouched dessert, and he smiled, releasing another nervous breath he was holding as he finally let go of your hand. "Let's finish up so we can go on our walk. Sound good, my Love?"

You only nodded before digging in with him, every nudge of his hand against yours reducing you to a blushing mess, and George, who was gaining more confidence as every second passed, would just smile to himself knowing he was successfully turning the tables on you.

But it wasn't yet the time to give in and confess, as much as George wanted to. He still had a nice long walk to woo you on, and then he had to do the important step of walking you to your apartment door at the end of the night, and God knows that was the part he was dying to get to.

You finished your dessert not long after and George payed the bill. After helping you out of the booth, you'd left hand-in-hand again.

The both of you stepped out into the cool night and you looked up at George. "Are you cold? Did you want your jacket back?"

You were holding it in your other hand since you'd taken it off at dinner, and you shoved it in his direction without another word.

He laughed and took the jacket from you, unfolding it and pulling it back around your shoulders before rubbing his hands up and down your arms to keep you warm.

"You'll catch a cold without it. Besides, you look better in it anyways." He leaned in and kissed your cheek, smiling proudly to himself when he pulled away and continued to lead you to the car, deciding it'd be smoother to not turn around and gauge for a reaction from you.

Like before, George courteously opened the car door for you, and closed it when you were in. Their destination was his place. It wasn't for the reason one would think, but the idea of driving you to his home and inviting you in with every intention of walking right past the kettle made George's legs restless.

In reality there was a park down the road from his flat that cut pretty much directly to your own humble abode. You'd walked the trail hundreds of times together to look at the pretty flowers growing in the garden, but something told George that this time, like everything else happening that day, was going to be very different.

When you pulled up to his building he raced you to get to your door for the second time of the night; the first being at the burger place when you first arrived. He took your hand and helped you out of the car, and he didn't let go, even after locking the doors to his car and leading you both down the road.

There was a silence that fell between the both of you. It wasn't bad. You took this time to think about your night, as did George. With every step down the road and into the park you took, the smile on your face only grew wider. As for George, he began to sweat with every step he took.

Every foot forward led him closer and closer to your door, where he was going to finally let everything off his chest and confess to you. The problem was that George's confidence was quickly draining, and this was something he needed to do.

He eventually let go of your hand to wipe his palms off on his pant leg, and at the immediate loss of contact, you were turning to him with a confused look on your face.

"Sorry uh..." he breathed out slowly, cheeks dusted pink. "I-I don't know why, but I'm kinda nervous."

Your look of confusion faded into an unreadable one. "Was it holding my hand?"

George shook his head. "No no, not that, I want to hold your hand."

"So what's the problem?"

He just shook his head again. "Maybe it's just... the stress of making sure tonight is perfect for you."

"What?!" Your reaction was sudden, and George's eyebrows were raised high up on his forehead at your exclamation.

"George, tonight has already been perfect for me! I had a great meal, I'm on a lovely walk with you..." you reached out to take his hand again, and he lifted his gaze from his shoes to look you in the eye. You smiled up at him from under the streetlight, and George smiled back a little.

"Georgie, I would never have asked for a better night." You squeezed his fingers with yours and tugged him forward gently. "C'mon, Magpie. Let's get home. It'll be cooling down soon, and I don't want you walking outside much longer than needed tonight."

George followed behind, but you still took your time coming home since the both of you got caught up in another conversation. This time, it was about the flowers you were passing in the park.

"... I used to water those for you, y'know." He pointed to a cluster of marigolds. To think that was ten years earlier and they still stayed put, growing outwards and stronger than ever.

"I used to check on them every day to make sure they weren't dying. You told me one time you really liked those flowers and I just..." he smiled a little at the memory. "I just couldn't get enough of your smile every time you saw them."

You turned to look up at him. You had absolutely no clue he did that for you. It made you love the flowers even more, and your heart jumped a little when you realized that the marigolds were the very reason George insisted you both took the trail all the tine.

"I'll still come across them when passing flower shops. I always think of you when I see them."

"Wow. George, I... I never knew you paid that much attention to me."

"Why wouldn't I? You're my best friend."

And George didn't say anything after that, especially when you didn't respond to his last comment, which he didn't even mean to say.

By the time George could think up a sentence to save himself from friend-zoning the both of you right then and there, he felt like he'd left it for too long.

His heart was sinking, and he tried to shake off the comment best he could, and walked you the rest of the way home.

His stomach was in a knot as he looked up at your apartment building. The front door to the lobby looked intimidating, and his palms began to sweat again. You slipped your hand out of George's, and it distracted him from his racing thoughts.

"You think I'm gonna just leave you here?" His question was sudden, and you blinked once.

"I'm sorry?" You looked from George, to the apartment door which was ten feet away from the both of you. "But George, I'm home?"

"I have to walk you to your door." You laughed at his response, head thrown back as you sighed. "You mean to tell me you, George Harrison, are gonna walk up five flights of stairs in the next two minutes just to make sure you can hear me lock my door and know I'm safe?"

"Would it be a real date if I didn't?"

There was another beat of silence as George watched your eyes shift from left to right in thought. You pursed your lips a little, and then looked him in the eye.

"... Suppose it wouldn't be then, no."

"Then may I walk you to your door, Y/n?"

You finally answered him with a simple nod of your head, and George reached out to take your hand again. He wordlessly led you to the door which he opened for you, and then brought you to the flight of stairs. Nowhere else to go but up.

In about two minutes, you and George got to the fifth floor. As soon as he entered the hall, it felt like the walls were slowly closing together as you both took quiet, careful steps towards the end of the way.

The entire time, your hands were glued together, and no one let go, even when you were both finally stopped, and standing in front of your door.

"I'm sorry about tonight, Y/n. I know you were saying earlier tonight turned out perfect and everything but..." George's brain was still on that platonic comment he made on the walk.

"George, there is no one I would have rather spent tonight with than you. No one."

George squeezed your hand, and then sighed. "I just wish tonight happened under different circumstances."

"Different circumstances?" You repeated a little confused, and the boy in front of you pursed his lips and nodded his head.

Deep breaths. Here it goes.

"Y/n, ever since I found out about this date, my blood has just been boiling with jealousy for that boy. Hell, I still don't even know his name and I could tell you he isn't good for you."

You looked taken aback. Jealousy was definitely not where you thought he was going with all of this.

"I fell in love with you, Y/n. Years ago. And because I feared rejection, I didn't want to take my chances and say anything. But the truth of the matter is that I'd be the happiest person alive just to be able to love you openly. I can't stand to see you cry the way he made you tonight."

Again, you stood there, no words coming to mind to respond with. Your silence didn't make George stop.

"To think for years my feelings for you haven't gone away. I've always thought you felt the same, yet you were never mine." George paused. "When can this boy get you back again, Y/n?"

There was a long silence, his eyes searching yours for your answer, and you were staring up at him like a deer in headlights.

"I-- if I'd known-- I never thought-- George, I had no clue." He could see the lost look on your face, and it made his heart ache, especially when your lip began to tremble and your eyes started filling to the brim with tears.

"Why do you think I turned down every guy who's tried to get with me? I just... I never thought you'd love me back, Georgie." His emotions sank into a deep dark guilt. All this time, and you felt the same way about him...

And then he blinked.

You feel the same way about him!

George reached out to you, his hand cupping the side of your face and stroking your cheek with his thumb. Your tears began to fall, and he pulled you into his chest tightly for a moment. "My Love," he mumbled, pulling away just far enough for him to see your face again.

"Oh, even when you're crying, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever set eyes on..." There was a beat of nothing; just the sound of shallow breaths shared between the both of you before George began to inch in slowly towards you.

"... George, what are you doing...?" Your question was gentle, and you didn't stop him from coming any closer. You didn't want to stop him.

"Something I should've done a long time ago."

His attention fixated to your mouth once before your lips finally clashed together.

For over a decade, George had waited for the moment he tasted your lips; and now that it was here, he was almost scared he wouldn't know what to do.

The both of you were holding your breath since you both felt a little unsure at first, but it was a given, he was kissing his childhood best friend, and you were, too. You kissed back a little, and George exhaled lightly through his nose, a little relieved knowing you were getting a little more comfortable with the situation.

George's hands fell to your waist, fingers curling around your body as he eventually pulled you even closer. You parted your lips a little, and he bit down on your bottom lip, pulling away after hearing you gasp.

"Oh! Did I hurt you? I'm--" George could barely rush an apology out before you pulled him down to kiss him again, and pushing him backwards until his back was flat against your door. He watched as you closed the space between you again, and your lips were on his again.

His heart was pounding, ears ringing loudly as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, and all the boy could remember thinking about was how blissful it all was in that moment. George threw his arms around you and started pushing back just a little.

You pulled away from him to gasp in a breath, George's hands grabbing your arms and pinning you against your door so he could put you in the place he was moments before; to give you the moment to experience just a fraction of all the love he would be able to eventually give to you.

His lips briefly found the crook of your neck and you moaned quietly as George sucked at your skin a little, which only resulted in him pulling away just to lean back in to kiss your lips and swallow your pleasant hums.

You eventually pulled away to face him again, lips swelled and pink, and breaths quick. You never thought you'd have so much trouble breathing while kissing someone.

Then again, it's not everyday that the man you're kissing is George Harrison.

"I know it's rare to ask this on a first date but..." George leaned down to attach his lips to the column of your throat, and he hummed against your skin when you moaned gently, delaying your question for a moment.

"... Did you maybe wanna, I don't know, come in, stick around for some tea?"

"Is that even a question?" George asked lowly against your neck, and you smiled. You reached into your purse to retrieve your apartment keys, which you blindly stuck into the keyhole since George was back to kissing you again, and the both of you stumbled through the door as soon as you got it open.

You and George kicked your shoes off after shutting the door, and you pushed him up against the wall in the front corridor to kiss him once again.

Ten years was way too long for the both of you to be deprived of one another any further, and George gladly let you migrate your lips to his neck after a moment, tilting his head back for you to make things a little easier.

With your head buried into his neck and your arms circled around one another, George lazily opened this eyes to watch himself in that same mirror across the hall he looked into a few hours prior.

All the boy could do was smile to himself, breathing heavily as he watched your reflection switch to the other side of his neck after leaving a mark on the right side of his throat.

Not only was his reflection successful in this date tonight, but George himself pulled off the biggest risk he could imagine and it paid off.

He finally got the girl of his dreams.

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

A/A/N: honestly, this fic lives rent free in my head and it has been since I wrote it, so I gotta show it off to y'all. Again, I know it was long, but I really hope you enjoy it <3

PERMENANT TAG LIST

@culturefiendtrashqueen​

@rogermeddow

(message me if you want to be added to any of my oneshot/queen/beatles/chapter taglists)

[jojikawa]

Fatal Attraction | Kayn x Fem!Reader | League of Legends

˗ˏ✎ [Honey-Maron] *ೃ

✧『Fandom』: League of Legends

✧『Character』: Shieda Kayn

✧『Word Count』: 2,960 words 15,587 characters

✧『Summary』: As a child soldier, Kayn had only made one friend who he wanted to protect during the battles against the Ionians but during his final battle, he was too busy defending himself to see what happened to her. Her body was never found so he knew she wasn't dead and now it was his goal to find her.

(This hasn’t been proof read enough times so bare with my typos)

There was a time in the Noxus military where the battle was getting hard and the Commanders needed a new tactic that would surprise the Ionians. The idea that ended up going through was for the military to pick up poor children off of the streets and train them to fight well enough to distract some Ionians for more capable adult soldiers to come and pick them off.

Kayn was amongst these many children along the way he had met a small and dainty girl that he wanted to protect. When he was injured, she always knew how to patch him up, even if it were with a dirty cloth and a minimal amount of medicine. He assumed that her previous family was doctors and them being tragically killed is what lead you to be on the streets at such a young age.

She was the only person that showed him compassion and the two of you formed a natural bond. Whatever happened, he wanted to make it out with her alive.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

During the training the children were issued to have, you were having a hard time getting used to the sudden change. You were always so small and fragile, Kayn was always doing things for you. He knew that once the battles started that he wouldn't always be there to protect you, so whatever he learned from Noxian commanders, he taught you in secret so that as time went on you wouldn't fall behind the next day.

Eventually, the day of the battle came and on such short notice too. It was assumed to be the last day of this group of children before they would need to go out and fetch a new batch.

“(y/n),” Kayn called to you. “Remember the promise you made to me.” His voice was young but stern. You nodded, too nervous about the fighting for you to reply any other way.

The two of you and others like you were so young and were forced to engage in such violence at the hands of your own commanders as bait and when everything started, all you could do was watch as kids you knew were cut down in front of your eyes.

You had lost Kayn and with a sword and dagger among the fighting, you were left to fend for yourself. You didn’t want to attack these people, instead, you wanted an adult to come to save you but you knew that would never happen, and out of fear you ended up killing more men than you can count on your own two hands.

You weren’t even thinking about the promise you made to Kayn, you were just so scared and couldn’t bear the thought of dying such a horrible death. You wanted to run but at every turn was a man trying to corner you to kill you.

Most children who didn’t die took the chance to run away before they were noticed so, as time went on you had gotten more and more outnumbered.

A group of three men had surrounded you. You could take one, maybe two but three wasn’t something you were made for. Not to mention your own physical strength was still lacking.

“Sheida!”

Kayn had heard his own name faintly in the crowd of people fighting. The Noxus regulars had come to take care of the real threats but there were too many people in the way for him to get to the voice he was so familiar with.

The fighting lasted around a day or two before it was over and word got around that Noxus had attacked an Ionian village.

All the kids who part took were all dead or gone.

Kayn had been left behind. He had been scooped up by the Order of The Shadow not long after.

Master Zed offered to take in Kayn since he had the fighting spirit and tenacity of no other but he didn’t listen to his plea of look for you once more even when he begged to.

It was very hard on him since members of the Shadow kept pushing him to believe that you were dead and your body simply couldn’t be found or maybe your body was there but was ravaged beyond recognition. You were in a better place now.

Kayn refused to believe that and he bided his time in the Shadow until he felt like he was strong enough to make the move of looking for you so that he can have closure once and for all. He felt that if he were the new leader of the Order of The Shadow, he would have the proper resources to locate you somewhere in Ionia.

When Zed had given Kayn the task of retrieving a Darkin weapon in Noxus territory, he saw this as his opportunity.

Kayn had underestimated the journey of obtaining Rhaast but he had done it. His own will kept Rhaast from stealing his body. Now he felt like he could be the most powerful man in the world.

Kayn went back to the Epool River, where everything had taken place and where everything had gone wrong. What remained of it was still damaged from long ago and unwanted memories had flooded his head. He pushed all of that to the back of his mind because knowing if you were really dead or not was his top priority.

Apart from damaged structures and now a small grave honoring those who fell that day, some locals were unable to move and still reside in what’s left of the village. The only thing he could think of was asking locals about you before he decided to take more extreme measures.

“Excuse me” He called out to one person.

“I’m looking for a girl-, uh, a woman I mean.” He said to another. “She has (color) hair and (color) eyes.”

No one was able to help.

He had been asking around all day and at this point, Rhaast had been urging him to start killing people, which would be what made them talk. Kayn refused.

It was the evening when Kayn was about to give up for the day when he was approached by an older woman who seemed extremely nice.

“I’ve never seen you around here.” She commented. “You’re really unique looking as well. You’re not from around here.”

Kayn frowned. “No, I’m not from here. I just came to look for someone, is all. This is where I lost her. It was years ago and I don’t think she’s here anymore.”

“You’re looking for someone? What makes you think you would find her here anyway? This place hasn’t been the same since that terrible invasion that happened years ago. So many children died. Most locals left to a safer place after that.” The old woman remarked as she looked at all the destroyed homes that had never been repaired.

Kayn was hesitant at first but it ended up coming out anyway. “She was here when that happened! We got separated and then when everything stopped she was gone. Have you seen her?”

“Really? I’m so sorry the two of you had to endure that. Those Noxians are as cruel as they come. There were a few children we found that survived. They ended up leaving but a girl stayed behind. Maybe you can ask her where this person you’re looking for went.” The old woman explained.

Kayn’s eyes widened. He suddenly got a second wind. Is it possible? Could finding you really be this easy. “Yes, please! Where can I find her?” He asked frantically looking around.

“She doesn’t live in the village anymore. She lives a bit far out in the forest. She lives alone as well, so try not to startle her.” She warned.

Kayn smiled but it wasn’t his usual devious smile that he would wear while killing Noxians. It was so hard for him to contain the excitement he had boiling inside of him when he got this news. Just when he was about to give up as well.

Kayn carefully followed the directions he was given. This woman was deeper in the forest than he thought. How could anyone "normal" live this far out and be okay with it?

He made his way through and eventually he began to realize that he was at his destination. It was a small neat cottage next to a small pond some yards away.

At first, he saw no one, so he had tread along the cobblestone path quietly. The pit in his stomach was very present and it made him nervous. Rhaast could sense this and only laugh at how silly he looked.

Then Kayn had heard faint water sounds.

Someone was at the pond nearby!

When he got there, he saw a small, young woman. She was covered in scars and wore a simple white dress and a sun hat as she gathered water from the pond below.

She must have not heard Kayn’s footsteps because she has not acknowledged his presence at all.

“Excuse me.”

Kayn’s voice visible startled the woman, causing her to knock over the bucket she had been putting clean water into. She quickly turned around and was immediately frightened.

“I’m looking for a woman...” His sentence was unable to be finished once your eyes met. It’s like he had already known.

The skin, the hair, the eyes. It was you. You were alive!

“(y/n)? You were here all this time?” His knees became weak and he collapsed to the ground at the realization.

“Who are you? I don’t know you!” You furrowed your eyebrows at him, upset at this man for disturbing you at your cottage.

“It’s me, Kayn! Don’t you remember?” A satisfied look dressed his face gracefully as he dropped Rhaast and slowly began crawling toward you.

“No! You’re not Kayn. He’s dead. If you’ve come to kill me just do it already!” You closed your eyes and kicked, sending you back and further away from him. You could feel the water of the pond touching the edge of your palms.

“No, I never died, I’ve always been here. I thought I was the only survivor. Trust me! I taught you how to fight- at the camp, remember?” You could hear the speak of desperation in his voice.

Did you really believe he left you behind like that?

You opened your eyes and really looked at him. He did have black hair and the same color eyes but his body was different. It was...demonic.

“What happened to you...?” Your voice was soft. “I thought you died and that’s why you couldn’t-” you cut yourself off with a choked sob.

Ever since that day you’ve been so alone. The only person that really understood you, you believed to be dead and gone. You had even been trying to move on but then he suddenly appears, unharmed.

“This weapon. It’s special but we can talk about it later. I’m not what’s important right now. I’ve been looking for you ever since we’ve been separated.” He started. “If only I knew this village was still standing. I would’ve come sooner.”

To Kayn, you looked so different but he was able to tell that it was still you. You were so...beautiful. Just as small and fragile but with a strong will to live.

“You were looking for me? I’m sorry. I thought you were dead. I-If I knew, I would’ve tried...” you then mumbled something Kayn couldn’t hear. You were so shy.

Your eyes were glossy like you wanted to cry. So soft and delicate but you were covered in scars that only a warrior could have. You were truly so unique. Too kind for this world.

This was all too much for you. Maybe he should think of something else to talk about that would help since this was a lot for both of you.

“This is your house? So this is where you’ve been hiding out all this time. We should go inside.” He remarked.

“O-Oh, well, okay.” You stood up and grabbed the bucket. Despite knowing Kayn was alive, a sad, sunken look graced your features.

It had been a very long time since you two have been together but it seemed like something more recent was troubling you.

“When we go inside, please remove your shoes. I try really hard to keep dirt and dust outside.” You told him and he did as he was told.

It was so warm inside and the lingering smell of baked goods and cinnamon filled his nostrils. Were you really living here all by yourself?

“S-So, I’ve been wondering.” You touched your index fingers and looked slightly off to the side as he stood in front of you.

A blank look covered his face, confused at your sudden urge to speak to him, but it was welcomed with a curious silence.

“Where did you go? You were...nowhere to be found...when I needed you.”

“There were too many!” He blurted out. “I heard you but I couldn’t get to you. Please don’t think I abandoned you. I’m here now.”

You gasped at his sudden outburst but then sighed when you had processed what he had said. “You can sit if you want.”

The two of you sat on the couch together, drinking a homemade drink you had made. You held your cup but didn’t drink.

“And you?” Kayn broke the silence.

“Huh?”

“You asked what happened to me and I wanted to know what happened to you.”

You frowned. “No, I meant what happened with you being gone for so long. I figured that you died but you’re here. What were you doing all this time?”

“Oh, I...” should he tell you? Was it against Master Zed’s rules to disclose something like that? He couldn’t t...

No. You were more important than some old man’s rules. He was going to be the new leader anyway and in his new vision for the Order of the Shadow, you’re there with him.

“I have been training with a group called the Order of the Shadow. I’ve been with them ever since.” He said with confidence.

“Are they responsible for what happened to your body?” You pointed out that the left side of his body was different.

“In a way, yes. But it’s not by force. I have a great plan and me looking like this won’t last for long.” He explained. This didn’t make you feel better at all.

“I see.” That was all you said in response.

“When I lost you,” you had begun, clenching the drink you had made. “I was surrounded by a lot of men. I had already killed so many of them but I was tired, I couldn’t fight anymore.”

“I-I feel so bad.” You saw the glass on the table and grabbed your head. The memories of gore and bloodshed etched into your brain, haunting you every moment of your life. “They were just trying to help me and I hurt them.”

Kayn didn’t know why but he felt like he should comfort you somehow and he did. He rested a hand in your shoulder. “It’s not your fault. A lot happened that day. They probably would have killed you. You were just defending yourself.”

“NO!” You yelled. “I stabbed one of them because I was scared. Then I was knocked out by the other. When I woke up I was in someone’s home. They took care of me and the person I stabbed died. I’m such a horrible human.”

“Don’t say that! You’re amazing. It was war and you were scared. I’m here for you.”

Your breathing began getting out of control. You were a monster. You destroyed so many people's lives and took lives that can never be brought back.

“Why did I have to live?” Hot tears began spilling out of your eyes. “They were innocent people.”

Kayn was at a loss for words. You were right, they were innocent people but you were too. It was just an unfortunate situation in the wake of war. He had no idea how to comfort a person in such a complex situation.

He hugged you, squeezing you and letting you sob into his chest. He felt so bad. You were hurting all this time...alone.

“Those who’ve died will forgive you. You were forced into this life. You had no bad intentions. Please understand that you live for a reason. Think about it. The two of us were in a horrible situation where we both could have died.”

Your sobbing had ceased, but only just a little. “But here we are, alive and together. Sole survivors.”

“Growing from this won’t be easy but you aren’t alone anymore.” He added.

You clenched onto him. “Ever since that day, it’s been so hard for me to form a real connection with someone. I’m so glad you lived.” You shyly reached your hand up to his face.

His skin was soft and although he didn’t expect this, he didn’t pull away from you. “You’ve grown so much and you’re so capable. I’m very proud of you.” You’re leaned forward and pressed your forehead against his.

Kayn didn’t know what this feeling was. It was almost like nervousness with a bit of excitement. All this time he’s missed your voice and caring nature. He was naturally drawn to you and you were to him. He was your only family.

“I love you, Shieda.”

Kayn immediately kissed you. You weren’t surprised at all. You kissed him back and he held you close.

Tears, of sadness of your pain and the joy of being with Kayn again, streamed down your soft cheeks. A hole inside of you was filled and now you could begin healing mentally and emotionally.

[stxleslyds]

It’s very interesting to see your thoughts on Winnik cause personally while I like that he made jason a bit unhinged and fun in utrh his other characterizations of his were eh at best. Like why would jason not care about the world and why would he take over the drug trade of all things considering his history. I feel like Winnick had a very surface level understanding of Jason. There was a lot of his past to explore but it wasn’t explored that deeply. Plus I absolutely HATED his Bruce and talia characterization. And how he wrote Talia in both utrh and lost days was absolutely disgusting and his explanation for why he did it was that Jason loves Talia and that they were both messed up ppl??? Which is where I can’t forgive him. I feel like he was a one hit wonder because ever since utrh his Jason story started to go downhill. I also feel like it’s because DC doesn’t know how to write a character that’s from a poor background and that’s a huge disservice to Jason. I do hope that Rosenberg or another writer (hopefully female) does a good job on him. He’s been suffering under shitty writing for so long. Sorry for the long ask I really enjoy reading your posts.

Hi Anon, thank you for sending your ask!

Well, this is a great question because I love giving my opinions on Winick’s UtRH and Lost Days. I know those books (or some moments in them) are not everyone’s cup of tea and I had and have some problems with some of them but I have also come to understand them or even accept them as a writer bringing up a morally grey area in his books and doing it well (or at least I saw it that way after re-reading and researching a bit about his thoughts on those matters).

This is going to be a long post (I suppose) because there is a lot to cover and I want to let you know in a clear way why I think that what Winick wrote works beautifully for Jason. I will try to answer this as coherently as I can, so I will talk about the points you made in your ask separately so I make sure I don’t forget anything.

Let’s begin!

“Why would Jason not care about the world?”

I assume with that you meant about what happened in Bludhaven when Chemo was dropped there by the Society? That is valid but that really wasn’t Winick’s fault (I believe), that whole thing was shown in the book because back then the Bat-related books were more interconnected and that was what was happening in Dick’s Nightwing run at the time, which I think was used to explain why Dick suddenly stopped helping Bruce in Gotham.

And then I think Jason and Bruce watching that happen when they were having that conversation on that roof was very well planned out. I think Winick used that opportunity for Jason to be his peak level of little shit and make Bruce feel bad about not arriving in time to save another one of his kids. Even though Jason later revealed that he never blamed Batman for not arriving in time to save him, I believe Jason said that about Dick to make Bruce hurt more. Jason was trying to make Bruce stay in Gotham so either Bruce or him killed the Joker that night. Winick on the other hand had to finish his story, him branching out and having Batman go to Bludhaven would have benefited absolutely no one either, and it just didn’t fit the story that was being told in Under the Red Hood.

That’s why I think that Jason reacted that way to the Bludhaven and Chemo situation. If by caring about the world you meant something else let me know! (He obviously cared about Gotham in UtRH and other people in Lost Days).

“Why would he take over the drug trade of all things considering his history?”

Well, I have to be honest with you Jason wanting to control the drug trade in Gotham makes absolute sense to me, and even more when I think about Jason’s past history.

Jason and Bruce have always been (to me) clear opposites in various angles, and in UtRH, Winick talks about that a little bit too.

Batman was created to eradicate crime from Gotham after Bruce witnessed the death of his parents, that was the tragedy that set him off, and even though it was tragic and awful he had everything outside of his parents, he had a home, a support system, people that cared and gave him love, and money. He never had to be in contact with the cruel reality that was Gotham. We know through various stories that Gotham is deeply rotten and corrupted.

But Jason did know how corrupted, rotten and devoid of hope his city really was, he lived in the streets and in an abandoned apartment alone because he didn’t trust the police or social workers (he didn’t believe the system was helpful). He had seen his mother die at the hands of drugs after his father was sent to jail due to his criminal behaviour. Probably his father was a drug dealer and was the person that got his mother into drugs, (I believe that was later made canon, I might be wrong). But why did he do that? Maybe because he came from a poor and complicated background and nobody wanted to employ him so the real bad people of Gotham, like Black Mask, Cobblepot and many others, saw his vulnerability and his desperation to make money and they gave him a job as a drug dealer.

Considering that Jason was made out to have very deep problems with people selling drugs in schools and all that, I can estimate that maybe one of the big Drug Lords at the time employed Jason’s father when he was barely a teenager, that way he earned money, he stopped going to school and sold drugs to his peers so the bad people could control more people while they were vulnerable.

If all of that is true then Jason wanting to control the drug trade in Gotham, by becoming a Drug Lord himself, makes perfect sense to me. I mean let’s talk about this, what were his other options?

Kill every drug lord?

What if that set off a gang war in Gotham over who got to be the next big Drug Lord? I mean, it would be like real life, if someone dies in that sort of position there would always be someone else to take their place. Drugs are clearly (in Gotham) a great way to get money and power.

Also, if he killed all the drug lords then what happened to the people that were working for them, how could Jason help them get another job?

Explode every warehouse and facility with drugs in them?

And then what? Wait for Black Mask and the others to buy more and put a target on his back? Maybe kill some innocents so they can send a message to Red Hood that if he keeps destroying their drugs or whatever people will pay for it?

Maybe all the drug lords would come together and kill the Red Hood themselves, what could one man do against everyone else? Black Mask and the others had vulnerable people on a payroll, if they stopped working or went against what their boss said they would have been killed and then families would still be vulnerable and desperate to survive in Gotham.

Come forward as Jason Todd, the not so dead son of Bruce Wayne, and start a campaign against drugs?

Jason would have ended up dead in seconds, everywhere you look there are corrupt people. What could have been the point of that? What could have Jason be able to give families like his so they could stop living under the control of drugs and Drug Lords?

-

Jason being a Drug Lord himself was the best option because Jason KNOWS the reality of Gotham and Gotham’s people. His way of dealing with drugs could control the drug trade in the first 10 years and then eradicate it after that time. His plan was genius!

Jason knew that for people not to suffer as his family did, he had to take the slow and hard path of becoming the thing that he hated the most. He needed to attack the monster from within. So, when he made his first move he controlled the street-level dealers, he told them “I will protect you from both Black Mask and Batman if you stop dealing drugs to kids and in schoolyards if you do that, you are dead”, it is genius! By being clear about not wanting to have kids and high schoolers involved with drugs he set out a new path where those people weren’t forced into drugs and driven away from school. And that’s the way Winick made us see Jason’s not so new morals, he protects Gotham’s kids and he will kill you without hesitation if you endanger them.

From that he built, Winick made it clear, at first Jason would convince the people working for other Drug Lords to work for him if they followed his rules (and he offered them protection!). If Jason worked on the drug trade, he could have controlled who was inserted in the drug life or could have made it exclusive to the rich or club exclusive. In his intention of taking over the drug trade, he could have moved drugs away from Gotham’s most vulnerable.

And if he employed those vulnerable people, he would have made them work for him on other levels, that way those vulnerable people still had jobs and were protected from people like Black Mask. And in due time, fewer young and poor people would be involved with drugs or the drug trade.

Red Hood employs poor people and makes them not sell to other poor people or kids, he pays his employees good money so their families make a better life for themselves and their kids go to school, they are all protected by the Red Hood and his team (Jason could have trained others and make a team or gang that focused entirely on security), those people then get to retire with their families far away from drugs and maybe Gotham too.

I mean, Winick never did those things but I think that was the way he was thinking about it, he really set a golden path for future writers, his story had to finish Jason’s dilemma with Bruce and Joker but then his life as the Red Hood continued. And it could have been good if other writers used the characterization that Winick had given Jason: protector of children, killer of rapists and everyone that endangered women, children and teenagers. All of that was thrown away for a mythical fight with Ra’s al Ghul for people that were as trashy as Ra’s.

“I feel like Winick had a very surface-level understanding of Jason”.

I have to disagree. I think he understood Jason’s character before his death well and then built a grown-up version of him with those morals more developed after he suffered more and then saw how the world and Batman’s ways hadn’t changed after his murder.

We are talking about post-crisis Jason here; he was sweet and he loved being Robin but he also saw the world differently from Bruce and Batman. He lived a very different life than the one that Bruce lived when he was a kid. Jason even said that he “could fend for himself just fine” and that he had “graduated from the streets of crime alley”.

To me Winick understood this completely, he knew that Jason had had close contact with how drugs could affect people and what a criminal record could lead you to, but he also understood that Jason was a survivor of "crime alley" and all its worst people. He probably knew of things that people were doing of he saw them happening. He knew how to protect himself from those things but understood that not everyone could do it. And when Batman took him to Ma Gunn’s school Jason learned that Batman was ignorant of how awful and manipulative Gotham’s people could be. Ma Gunn wasn’t running an orphanage or cool school; she was teaching children how to steal and harm others. He hated it, he was “okay” when he was alone and now, he was locked in with older kids that beat him and Ma Gunn who was exploiting children’s vulnerability.

I assume Winick took that and maybe decided that was the moment when Jason knew that even if Batman was trying to do good, he still didn’t see Gotham (or that side of Gotham) for what it truly was.

When Jason became Robin and worked along with Batman, we could already see that Jason thought very differently about what should be done with rapists, and abusers of all kinds, Jason saw the world differently when he was a kid and a teenager and then after his death, Winick used that to build a Jason Todd that as a young adult still saw Gotham for what it truly was.

“There was a lot of his past to explore but it wasn’t explored that deeply”.

I am really confused by this (and I am very dumb), did you mean that his past before his death wasn’t explored? Because that was not the point of this book, the information was already there with Jason’s previous appearances in comics, and even then, Winick explored through flashbacks in UtRH how he saw Jason and what it was that Jason thought about crime.

If you didn’t mean that and you meant his past before the events of UtRH but after his death then, well, I would say that Winick couldn’t have fit that in UtRH but he did write a story about that time in 2010 when he wrote Red Hood: Lost Days.

“I absolutely hated his Bruce and Talia characterization”

I will only talk about the Bruce part here because you mentioned Talia later in your ask.

To me his Bruce was perfect. I really think that his characterization of him was spot on, but maybe I am biased because I don’t like Bruce at all? I suppose that you are talking about Bruce’s characterization in those last moments in "crime alley" with Jason and Joker? And how he decided that making Jason drop the weapon by throwing a batarang to his throat and saving Joker was a better option than Jason killing the Joker?

If it is that then I would love to see what you think Bruce would have done at that moment because I didn’t really see Bruce using a gun (in any way) as an in-character thing for him, and even though DC has always danced with the idea of Bruce actually killing somebody I know that they wouldn’t have him do it, and even less when it comes to killing the Joker.

I mean, Bruce brought back Joker from the dead when Dick finally killed that piece of shit so, yeah, I don’t know.

I feel like Winick was trying to show just how loyal and squared Bruce is when it comes to his own no killing rule. Jason wasn’t asking for Bruce to go on a killing spree he just wanted Bruce to kill the Joker and he didn’t. Winick even had Bruce say that about him not wanting to kill one person because he felt that if he did that, he wouldn’t be able to stop and I think that’s pretty true. Maybe it is a bit too much but I don’t think it’s a lie.

“How he wrote Talia in both UtRH and Lost Days was absolutely disgusting”

That is absolutely valid, listen, if you didn’t like how he wrote her at all I really can’t say anything against that. My first real and solid contact with Talia’s character was in that book, so when I read UtRH I really liked how he wrote Talia in that, it seemed to have that aspect of Talia’s love for Bruce being so strong that when she saw Jason was alive, she wanted to help him so Bruce could see how much he loved her. It is messed up but I believed it fitted her character, she had good intentions but her reasoning was a little bit wonky.

With Lost Days, I thought that her character was well written, she isn’t a hero and she isn’t a villain, she is just a player in the game that is the League of Assassins and that world. That obviously changed up until we had that scene happen between her and Jason, I was grossed out and I didn’t understand why that had happened which leads me to what you said next in your ask.

“His explanation for why he did it was that Jason loves Talia and that they were both messed up people”.

This is a part of the interview where Judd Winick answered a question about Jason and Talia sleeping together. The interview was done by Sara Lima in ComicVine’s podcast.

“SL: Why did you decide to write the romantic scene between Jason and Talia in Lost Days?

JW: For those playing at home, Jason Todd, at the end of Red Hood: Lost Days, and Talia slept together. I did that because it was really disturbing and to shine a light on the fact that these are not really well people. A lot of people didn’t like that, which was correct. “You weren’t supposed to like that. That was supposed to be, ‘oh God, stop that, what are you doing?’ It really was. As well as, for Talia, her reasons, being that Bruce had wound up inadvertently killing her father and she was ragingly angry with him and went from love to pure hate and still loving him at the same time. And Jason, given the opportunity to have sex with just about the only woman who Bruce has had sex with or really cares about, ‘Yeah, I’ll go there.’

SL: He’s like, ‘yeah, cause I hate that guy.’

JW: Yeah! ‘I hate that guy!’ And I think that Jason probably had the hots for Talia. She’s hot, he doesn’t exactly have a lot of relationships going on – It’s not a good thing for either of them. These are two people who murder people, two people who are screwed up, screwed up emotionally. There’s this question that why would he do that and Talia only loves Bruce. She might only love Bruce, but she does have sex with other people because that’s just sex. And we’re all grown-ups here. I think those who shake their fist and get angry at this kind of thing might be some of our older readers. I’m an older reader, but I acknowledge the fact that people aren’t that chaste and grow up: people have sex. That’s why I ended it like that; It was messed up.

Maybe it was in another interview or something but this is the only time that I have seen Winick talk about that and I don’t think he mentioned Jason loving Talia but he did say said that “These are two people who murder people, two people who are screwed up, screwed up emotionally”.

When I looked it up, I found that someone that is described as screwed up is a person that is “emotionally disturbed”. That description is one that I feel is valid for both Jason and Talia at the time, they both had a lot going on and were fighting some demons so maybe it’s not a nice thing to say but I can’t say that the statement isn’t true. Or at least that’s how I see it.

When I came across that interview for the first time, I wasn’t expecting Winick to apologise for writing that interaction but I did want an explanation so after he said, “A lot of people didn’t like that, which was correct. “You weren’t supposed to like that. That was supposed to be, ‘oh God, stop that, what are you doing?’ It really was” and “for Talia, her reasons, being that Bruce had wound up inadvertently killing her father and she was ragingly angry with him and went from love to pure hate and still loving him at the same time. And Jason, given the opportunity to have sex with just about the only woman who Bruce has had sex with or really cares about, ‘Yeah, I’ll go there.’”

I felt like that was enough, granted I didn’t like it and I still don’t like it but I don’t see it as Winick writing something disturbing with evil intentions, I just see it as him writing these two morally grey people doing some very morally grey stuff.

This is not me saying that this is how things have to be taken, I know and understand many people who absolutely don’t like this at all and that’s valid. I am not here to change your mind about that, personally when I read the why he wrote that I felt like that explanation was enough but that is just me.

“I feel like he was a one-hit-wonder because ever since UtRH his Jason story started to go downhill”

I think Winick was only meant to write Jason’s comeback to comics, around the time he was writing Outsiders and Green Arrow. And there was also the “Infinite Crisis” (Winick wasn’t involved with that one) event going on in the middle that explained some stuff like how Jason was resurrected which was explored in Batman Annual #25 in 2006 (like a year after the UtRH book had come out and it was also written by Winick). Then with the popularity of the UtRH book the animated movie was made (written by Judd Winick) and because that was coming out DC allowed Winick to write the six-issue mini of Red Hood: The Lost Days in 2010.

The UtRH story didn’t go downhill, DC simply couldn’t handle that level of mature storytelling at the time, just after that event ended DC was already planning on changing stuff and then the New 52 came years later.

Winick’s Jason even made an appearance in Outsiders #44-46, there Red Hood wanted to help the Outsiders break out a good man (Black Lightning) out of prison because he hadn’t killed anyone (it had actually been Slade). Jason/Red Hood’s characterization and story going downhill wasn't on Winick, it was on DC and their lack of interest in making their characters complex and dual.

“DC doesn’t know how to write a character that’s from a poor background and that’s a huge disservice to Jason”

Absolutely. But in my case, I do think that Winick did work with Jason’s background very well. To me, he set a path and no one could follow it but I might also be horribly wrong.

-

I also hope that Rosenberg does an amazing job! I absolutely love his work, as I have said before he is super funny and isn’t scared of writing characters who kill. I feel like he will bring back the sarcastic little shit that Jason once was but he will also bring back that sense of seriousness and dedication that Jason has for the work that he is doing. Rosenberg even showed us some of that in that prelude to Task Force Z in Detective Comics, I absolutely recommend them if you haven’t read them, issues #1041 and #1042 were the ones with that backup story.

I can see that we have very different opinions but that’s just a part of the comic world, we all perceive these comics differently and that’s valid! I am glad you enjoy reading my posts and I hope that even though we have those different opinions you were still able to enjoy my answer! If you think that I misunderstood anything that you say please let me know, sometimes my brain just doesn’t click.

Hope you have a fantastic week!

[adorethedistance]

Baby Fever - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: swearing, discussion of reproduction, a child (no-)

Words: 2502

Summary: You and Owen spend a day at the zoo babysitting Baby Shada, and her presence sparks conversation about adding a new presence of your very own.

A/n: This was written in like three hours and I’m exhausted it’s skimmed at best but this is just something I’ve had in my mind and as y’all know by now, writing fics is how I retire my dreamland scenarios of romance. Enjoy my brain giving 82% of her all :)

“You ready, little one?” I bite back a laugh when I hear Owen’s voice coo from the back seat. Owen and I had been wanting to plan a zoo date for the longest time, but never had the opportunity to until now; when Jer and Carolynn needed a well-deserved day of rest, and Charlie was back in Dieppe for the next month, that left Owen and me as the next in line to take care of 10-month-old baby Shada. The two parents hadn’t decided on a name until after she was born, so the rest of our friends got comfortable with referring to her as ‘baby Shada’ or ‘CJ’ short for ‘Care and Jer’s’ kid.

Owen and I left the house at 8:45 sharp to get to the park in a timely manner. We weren’t too concerned with arriving when the park opened seeing as it was a Wednesday morning in the middle of February. Children should be in school, non-actors should be in the office, and surely other young babies and new moms should be attending mommy and me yoga classes or something.

“Do you have the bag?” I ask, surveying the car for any loose items.

“Yeah, it’s on the floor. Do you want me to carry the bag or the baby first?”

“You babysit first. I can handle tickets.” Owen nods and gingerly unbuckles the car seat to scoop up the currently calm child and slip her into the black baby carrier we opted for instead of a stroller. I put on the backpack with all her baby items and some of our essential possessions, and together we walk to enter the park. CJ is smiling brightly as she takes in all the different sights and sounds of the entrance. The image is just too adorable, I have to make Owen stop under the giant sign to take a picture of the two of them. I send it to both parents as the first update of the day, knowing they won’t treasure the photo as much as I will, because they aren’t in love with Owen in the way that I am.

Owen and I have talked about kids before. Once, on our first date when he asked me if I had any names picked out, which I didn’t. And second, when I informed him we would be entrusted with the care of CJ the following week; it was when we began brainstorming activities to do with her that Owen brought up having our own kids. It took me by surprise that he used the word ‘when’ instead of ‘if’. A small language thing to pick up on, but a huge life thing to process. He talked about making memories with CJ and being the first ones to take her to the zoo, with the consent of her parents. Truth be told, I don’t love kids or the idea of kids in the way that Owen does, so I was a little hesitant to speak my mind. But I didn’t miss the way he held his hand on my stomach as we fell asleep that night. And I didn’t miss the hopeful glint in his eyes when I’d asked his opinion on a few names I liked the next morning.

“What do you wanna do first, CJ?” Owen’s question elicits an excited squeal from her as a response which makes the two of us laugh. I quickly snag a map from the front stand and survey our route options before I feel Owen’s right hand come to rest on my lower back. I glance up to see him peering at the map over my shoulder. My movement prompts him to face me and give me a soft, comforting smile. I feel like spending forever looking into Owen’s breathtaking eyes, but the baby strapped to his chest has other plans. She begins flailing wildly to convey all the excitement coursing through her little body. We laugh once more and Owen presses a quick kiss to her head, which messes up her hat’s placement on her head. I shake my head, stepping in front of my fiance, completely ignoring him. My tunnel vision hyperfocus is set on adjusting the brim of the bucket hat to protect baby Shada from the sun.

“There we go.” When I look back up Owen is staring at me with the softest closed mouth smile I’ve ever seen, “What?”

“Nothing. Where to, Mamacita?”

“Mamacita? Whatever. I say we take this path that way we can start with the elephants and condors, and that’ll take us to the polar bear cove.”

“Lead the way.”

Owen slips his hand in mine, interlacing our fingers and giving me an affirming squeeze. As we’re walking to the elephant exhibit, CJ’s happy mood means she must wave her tiny hand at every person we pass. Other parents with babies her same age, being the majority of the crowd that’s free on a Wednesday morning, smile and wave back to her. Along the front street, the initial entrance crowd begins to dwindle and there are fewer people for her to wave at. Then, a woman who’s probably in her late forties, early fifties sees CJ wave to her. The woman is wearing black pants, a soft maroon top, and a name tag that reads ‘Linda’. Judging by the fact that she gets to wear red instead of the familiar forest green, I can conclude she’s a higher up when it comes to her position here at the zoo.

“You guys are such a beautiful family.”

“Oh, we’re n-”

“Thank you!” Owen speaks over my refutation. The woman then begins to approach us, and I look up at my serious boyfriend in confusion. He whispers, “Let’s pretend. It’ll be fun.” I mean, I’m not much of an actor but I guess there’s a first time for everything.

“How old is she?”

“10 months,” he answers seamlessly, using the back of his index finger to lovingly stroke CJ’s round cheek.

“She is just so darling, I’m sure you two must be very proud. They grow so fast, you know? I remember having little ones running around all the time and suddenly they’re off to college. Is she your first child?”

“Yeah, she’s the only one for now.” For now? Wow Owen, when you create a world you really live in it.

“Well, enjoy it while it lasts. They’re only babies for so long.” Linda smiles down and CJ once more before bidding me and Owen goodbye.

“For now?” I ask, incredulously when the woman is out of earshot.

“Yeah,” he shrugs playfully, “CJ’s so well behaved I’m sure we can manage another one.”

“Uh-huh. Are you aware she’s not actually our child?” Owen sighs out a smile and takes my hand as he begins on our trek to the elephant enclosure. When he speaks again, I nearly miss it from how quiet he’s talking,

“S’wishful thinking.”

“What did you just say?” I’m curious to see if he’ll repeat it to my face.

“I said it’s wishful thinking.”

“To have a second child to our nonexistent first child?”

“No,” he nudges my shoulder with his own as we walk, “To have a child period.”

“Nice try. Your baby fever isn’t gonna rub off on me so easily.” He scoffs out a laugh,

“It’s still early. We’ve got the whole day to fix that.” Seamlessly pulling Owen to a stop, I don’t pause our conversation as I step in front of him. My gaze doesn’t meet his eyes as I straighten CJ’s hat once more.

“Well, bear in mind we’re basically on the clock here, and CJ is a tiny person before she’s a persuasion tactic.” I lunge one foot back to make sure the hat is even, and that the baby can still see from under it. When I deem her hat positioning satisfactory, CJ smiles up at me at the same time that paints Owen’s flushed face. He holds his hand straight out in front of his body for me to take, and when I do, he pulls me in to clasp both hands together and rest them on my lower back. Minimal visitors in the zoo is definitely a perk as Owen’s far more physically affectionate without others around. I rest my hands on the portion of his chest that isn’t occupied by CJ’s happy demeanor.

“I don’t know if I’m cut out to be the mothering type. I’m just not… good with kids.”

“I understand your reluctance… but I’m gonna get you on board by the end of the day.”

“Yeah okay, Joyner. Whatever you say.”

Owen smiles down at me with a love as infinite as the number of stars in the universe. CJ squeals between us and I babble back at her in a higher pitch than my usual speaking voice. She squawks again and we go back and forth like this for a little while until she sticks her tongue out at me in between a smile. My jaw drops in a surprised, amused, and simultaneously offended manner, and I take her chubby little baby foot in my hand and squeeze gently, causing her to screech through fits of giggling.

“When did you learn how to do that? Owen, did you-” The words die on my tongue when I see the expression on Owen’s face. He’s wholly enamored and yet so smug at the same time. I feel my face heat up a little bit; I don’t even have to ask what he’s thinking.

“‘I’m just not good with kids’ my ass.”

“There are impressionable ears around. And I do not sound like that.”

“She’s not gonna remember any of this in a week, and yes. You do.” I glare at Owen with an expression of intolerance but my facade is crumbled as I can’t mask the growing smile he elicits by mimicking my expression.

“Let’s go you two.”

After what felt like an eternity we’ve finally made it to the elephant exhibit. The herd of African elephants are spread across the enclosure, some playing in water, some feeding from hay baskets, and a baby closely following it’s mother as she walks across the paddock. When Owen appears beside me

“Do you need a break? We can switch off and you carry the bag.”

“Sure.” I set the baby backpack on the bench behind us and unbuckle the fastenings of the carrier to prop CJ on the side of my hip. As we wait for Owen to take the carrier off his body, I walk her up to the wooden railing that surrounds the elephants’ enclosure. Of course, the sight ahead excites her and she begins bouncing on my side as a means of conveying her feelings. She makes a sound that I interpret as an interrogative before pointing to the animals.

“You see the elephants, CJ?”

“Uh-huh.” She lifts her tiny baby hand into the air and waves the best she can at the elephants, none of which are even looking our way.

“Are we waving? Say ‘hi elephants’!” I wave with her and gauge her smile to be even bigger than when she’d stuck her tongue out two minutes ago.

“Hi ephants!” I freeze mid wave in shock. Did she just-?

“Did you just? Owen!”

“Yeah?” he calls from behind us, still getting all our things in order.

“Did Carolynn or Jeremy say what her first words were?”

“Uhhhh, no. They said she hasn’t been speaking words yet, just consonant sounds,” Owen leaves the items unattended seeing as there’s no one else around,  “Why?”

“CJ. Say ‘hi elephants’!” I wave at the animals once more, praying that that wasn’t a fluke.

“Hi ephants.” Upon hearing her speak, Owen’s face holds the same expression as mine did just two seconds ago.

“Should we video it and send it to them or pretend it never happened so they can be the ones that hear her first words?”

“Take a video, or take a secret to our graves?” He pretends to weigh the options as if this is the most perilous decision we’ll ever make.

“You’re right, you’re right. Will you grab my phone for me?”

“Where is it?”

“My back pocket that the baby is currently sitting on.” I turn around to let Owen grab the device and unlock it for me.

“Should I just get you guys in the video or the elephants, too?”

“What are you talking about? Get in the video!” I scold him for trying to worm his way out of this memory. “Make yourself useful and revive your long lost vlogging skills.” Owen rolls his eyes but flips to the front facing camera and hits record all the same.

“Say ‘hi mom, hi dad’,” I direct CJ and she merely waves at me, not fully understanding the concept of vlogging at the ripe age of 10 months. “Update number 2: we’re at the elephant enclosure and CJ made some friends. Hey,” I speak quietly to capture her attention. “Can you say ‘hi elephants’?”

“Hi ephants!” She screams and then laughs, throwing her head back to make sure Owen is still present.

“A new word!” I cheer as Owen lowers my phone to stop the recording,

“New skill unlocked.” He hits stop and proceeds to trade me CJ for the phone for a quick second so I can send the video to the not exactly new parents.

“They’re gonna love this.” I click my phone off and tuck it back into my back pocket. Retrieving the baby carrier from the desolate bench, I slip it on to strap myself in before CJ. Once secured, I look up to take her from Owen but blink in surprise that they’re no longer standing in front of me. I turn slightly to my left to see CJ stumbling forward on wobbling legs whilst Owen keeps her standing. He removes his hands from her sides and allows her to grab a hold of both of his index fingers in either hand. Slowly, he walks her closer to where I’m standing one tiny step at a time.

The sight in front of me is so sweet there’s a strange feeling culminating in my chest. A micro trace of baby fever crosses my mind at the thought of Owen teaching our own baby to walk. The smile on his face is unlike anything I’ve seen before and the prospect of having kids suddenly becomes less dreary. I’ve always been afraid of being a bad parent, or messing up someone else’s life, but with Owen, all those fears disappear. Becoming a parent is no longer bleak; the thought of raising kids with someone as loving and enthusiastic as Owen, the world seems all that much brighter.

“Y/n,” he calls to get my attention, unaware I’ve been watching for the past few minutes. When he looks up from CJ’s tiny body, and recognizes the familiar ‘baby fever’ look in my eyes, he smiles and utters a simple, “I told you so.”

***

A/n: lawd help me I have been putting off so many requests to write self indulgent bs pls don’t hate me.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13​ @kaitlyn2907​ @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals​ @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1 @joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul @celestialmolina @lilyjoyner

[sidespart]

The Fall of King Romulus Part 2

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Pairings: Mostly Platonic LAMP and all the found family feels. Could be read as pre-slash. 

Prologue     Chapter 1  

“Young Sir! Come look at this! A beautiful gift for your sweetheart, no?”

Logan bit back a curse as Roman, once again, slipped form his side and almost skipped towards the merchants stall.

They had finally left the forest earlier that morning. Barley a quarter- mile beyond the tree line the path merged with the great eastern road, already heaving with traders wagons heading to Steveange for the monthly market. Roman had gone to work immediately, finding an exhausted looking couple and charming them into exchanging a ride in the back of their cart for a selection of songs to soothe their gaggle of bored children.

Even Logan, no lover of music, could admit that Romans voices was objectively pleasing. Even the wailing baby settled down under the effects of his lullaby.

The closer they got to the city gates the more densely packed the road became, to the point where their pace might have been improved by walking. But the rest was welcome and the sun was still high in the sky by the time they had finally made it to the city square. They might even have made it to their target in good time, had Patton not insisted that they stay to help the family unload every box and crate from their cart before moving on.

Patton stood nearly seven foot tall, with shoulders to match and the patience of a Raspanzean monk. Moving him when he had decided not to move was difficult at the best of times.  Currently, with a good deed in need of doing and no less than three small children clambering all over him, it was going to be impossible.

Logan looked at Virgil for support.

Virgil was already manhandling the smallest sack of produce down from the cart, under close supervision of a surly looking nine year old.

Logan looked back at Patton. Patton had somehow acquired a fourth child, and was swinging the small boy gently back and forth with one giant arm.

Logan sighed.  

Eventually they agreed that Patton and Virgil would stay to help the family, and then set about finding the four of them somewhere to sleep. Logan and Roman would head down the main street, complete their mission and return with, hopefully, enough coin to let them settle here for at least a weeks rest.

Which Logan would have no problem with. Except that the monthly market seemed far larger than when Logan had visited the city as a young apprentice. The city square was packed with stalls filled with meat, produce, spices and enough live animals to generate a stink so strong even Patton and his twice broken nose winced. The main road meanwhile was filled with more temporary looking stalls offering books, jewellery and potions of every colour alongside the usual clothing and home wear. These continued the whole length of the road from the square to the city temple and even spilled over into the side streets and thoroughfares of the city proper.

All of which apparently meant Roman couldn’t walk for more than two minutes without stopping to gawk at whatever gaudy display was on offer or chat with the seller.

“Roman!” he caught up with the wayward bard at a jewellers stall, where a heavy set man with salt and pepper hair was holding up an extremely impractical looking necklace for him to inspect

“Oh there you are specs” Roman grinned at him, “have you seen Master Galvenets wares? Look how shiny!”

“Is this your sweetheart?” The jeweller – presumably Master Galvenet – grinned at Logan with far too many teeth and reached below the makeshift counter top, “Then may I suggest this one instead – to match his  eyes?”

The necklace he presented was even bigger than the last. With blue glass masquerading as the sapphires surrounded by enough ostentatious filigree to decorate a dukes bed chamber. Logan stared,  momentarily struck dumb by his own disdain.

Roman nudged him, waggling his eyebrows and giving him a lecherous grin “What do you think sweetie? It does match your eyes.”

Logan blanched. Turning quickly to the seller her snapped out “We are NOT together. And also - we’re, extremely poor. And not interested.”

He grabbed Roman’s wrist and proceeded to drag the giggling bard with him back towards the main street. “Can you try to focus?” Logan glared at him, “remember this package is time sensitive.” Superstitiously, Logan patted his pocket, feeling the shape of the vial they had been entrusted to transport to Steveange still safely stored inside.

Roman failed to look chastened. “Logan, it’s a herb. And we we’re asked to deliver it within a week – it’s only been five days! Your forest short cut worked, alright, the worlds not going to end if we stop to appreciate some fine wares on our way.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You consider Master Galvenet’s works, ‘fine wares’?”

Now Roman had the grace to look a little sheepish “They had a charm of their own.”

Logan hmphed. “They were very clearly fake.”

“Oh?” Roman linked their arms together, tugging him back into the steady stream of south bound shoppers, “How could you tell?”

Logan told him.

The ensuring lecture took them the rest of the way down main street, and into the rabbit warren of alleyways that branched out behind the city’s temple.

Even here, there were traders. Many had their wares spread out on blankets on the ground instead of stalls, but they seemed less inclined to call over whilst the two of them walked together deep in discussion and so, mercifully, there was less opportunities for Roman to get distracted.

“A festival?” Roman suggested. Logan shrugged, it was possible, something was certainly occurring to draw such an enormous throng.

Eventually, Logan had to admit that his boyhood memories were not enough to navigate every twist and turn of the city streets and Roman stepped away from him to ask a couple for directions. Logan took the chance to study him, but whatever fit of irrationality had led to him wandering back through half the forest the previous night seemed to have past. Even the scratches on his hands and arms had healed almost completely overnight, helped along by a generous slathering of healing salve from Virgil.

(Logan had, at the time, pointed out that the healer was using up rather a lot of their  dwindling supply for an extremely minor injury. Virgil had hissed at him)

Roman was often contradictory. He would spend a day whining about his need for beauty sleep but then stay up till the early hours to fulfil every song request from whatever crowd they managed to gather. He fussed with his makeup and performance clothing as much as a lady at court, but kept his hair cropped unfashionably short and made no effort to seek out high class patrons who could have kept him in silks and finery. He was talented enough with a lute to spend the social season entertaining upper class lords, and talented enough with a sword to spend the rest of his time as a body guard or becomes some towns local hero. Instead he travelled with them.

“You know, I’m fairly sure there were some gentlemen painting miniatures on the main road, if you want to keep staring at me that is.”

Logan flushed, caught. “Don’t be insufferable.”

“You don’t pay me enough for that” Roman grinned cheekily.

This was an old joke. Virgil had originally found Roman, and hired him as a body guard and escort for a three day trip through a bandit ridden mountain pass. Three weeks and many diversions later, they had emerged on the other side of the mountain. Roman had become as much a part of the group as any of the others and had stayed to travel with them as a friend rather than a hire.

Logan was glad of it. Most of the time.

“Did you get the directions?”

“I did, I had to ask three people before I found someone who recognised the address – the city’s full of tourists!”

 *

 The woman who opened the door looked like the word crone ha been invented especially for her. Her grey hair stuck out from a shoddily tied scarf and her face looked like at any moment it might collapse under the weight of her own frown. She scowled at the pair of them, looking like she already learned everything there was to know about them from one glance and found it all spectacularly unimpressive.

“What do you want?” She snapped.

Logan resisted the urge to smooth down his waistcoat like he was presenting to a lecturer and stepped forward.

“Good afternoon. We have been sent by Madam Valarie to –“

This, if anything, seemed to make the scowl deepen.

“My sister? What does that witch want?”

“To deliver you …this”

With a flourish Logan produced the vial and held it aloft. The thin shaft of light spilling from the doorway made the red herb glow a burning orange in the dim of the alley.

“And you think I’m dramatic.”

“Shush.”

Needlessly dramatic or not, he had the woman’s attention. She reached towards the vial with trembling hands but Logan drew back before she could make contact.

“Your sister paid us half, with the promise of the second half on delivery.” Reaching into a different pocket  he produced an envelope and held it out. “She told us to give you this – it should validate our story.”

The woman muttered something decidedly uncomplimentary under her breath but accepted the envelope. Without speaking further she turned and retreated into the hovel, leaving the door open behind her

The two men exchanged a glance, and then Roman deftly stepped around Logan to walk in first, one hand on his sword.

He needn’t have bothered, the short hallway opened up to small kitchen, where every conceivable surface was covered with books, scrolls and bric-a-brac. Three of the four walks were taken up with shelving where kitchen ingredients and appliances sat shoulder to shoulder with  ornaments, candles and what looked like half a taxidermy ostrich.  

If the old woman had hired muscle ready to take to leap out and take the herb by force, they would have had a hard time finding space to stand.

“My sister claims this was picked under the glow of a full moon.”

Logan nodded, “that is what we were given to understand.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, “For this to be worth the price it needs to be used within ten days of the moon’s glow, my sisters village is two weeks ride away on the eastern road.”

“We came through the forest.” Logan explained, “Also, I sealed the herb in a pre-sterilised sample jar – the lack of air exposure should help it retain its freshness far beyond its normal time frame!”

The was a silence. The woman was now looking at Logan not with suspicion, but with the exasperation of a teacher whose student has just said something rather stupid.

Logan crossed his arms.

“If you look at the specimen carefully you will notice no discoloration or other signs of degradation – this method can be used to prolong the lifespan of most vegetation and-“

She interrupted him by laughing, an awful crows call of a noise, and held up a hand for silence.

“You are obviously quite uneducated.” she told him cheerfully “And you are bothering Mittens.”

“I beg your pardon I- wait what?”

“YOWCH!”

Logan spun round, as much as he could in the cramped space, only to find Roman desperately trying to relinquish a scrambling ball of fur back onto one of the high shelves. The cat had already dug its claws deep enough into the bards wrist to draw blood, and was currently clinging on for dear life as Roman waved his hand around like Patton trying to kill a spider.

“My apologies Master Mittens” Roman told the cat a few moments later, after Logan and the crone had  finally convinced it to release him “I thought you were a hat.”

“Why must you touch things.” Logan hissed and was surprised by a much gentler laugh from their hostess.

“Aw now,  Mittens is not the most dangerous thing you could have touched in my kitchen. Here. Drink.”

Logan blinked as she shoved hot cup into his hands. Its contents was extremely dark and disturbingly viscous. A few drops glopped over the side, singeing his finger. He held it as far from his body as he possibly could.

“And for you?” She held up a second cup towards Roman who smiled politely but shook his head ‘no’

“No thank you, Madam.”

“We’re both fine.” Logan said firmly, putting the cup down on one of the first patches of exposed surface he could find. “If you wouldn’t mind completing our transaction we will take our leave of this…place.”

She looked at him for one long moment and then turned back to Roman.

“Your friend says you passed through the Serpents Forrest”

Logan frowned - “That’s not what the locals called it.”

“Well that’s who lives there.” The crone snapped without turning around, “One of the darker fae. I’m not surprised he” – she jerked her chin back towards Logan – “ got through alright, since the gods look after fools.”

“Excuse me!”

“But how did you manage?”

Roman juts shrugged, eyes sparkling with mirth at Logan’s outraged expression. “We saw no one Madam, but if we had done - I carry iron.”

That rusted hunk of junk Logan thought, but the crone was nodding approvingly

“A clever boy” she patted Roman cheek, “I thought so when I heard your accent – you’re from beyond the mountains.”

Logan frowned. He was not gifted when it came to interpreting expressions, but he thought Romans smile had suddenly become very fixed.

“So are you.” Roman replied softly.

There was a moments quiet whilst the two looked at each other and Logan tried not to roll his eyes out of his own head. All they needed to do was a simple swap of coin for produce and instead Roman had manged to find the only other grown adult in Steveange who still believed in fairies.

Whatever northerner to northerner communication was happening seemed to pass, and the crone reached past Roman to pull a small burlap sack from the shelf. Mittens took the opportunity to skitter across her arm and settle himself on her shoulder.

“Here you are then.” She tipped the sack out on top of an open tome, producing three cloves of garlic and a hefty pile of coins Logan couldn’t help but stare. That was more money than Logan had seen in one place since he had started traveling.

The crone picked out three gold pieces and a fistful of silver and handed them to Logan. He counted quickly and handed her the vial. Transaction complete, Logan headed immediately to the door, but turned back when he realised Roman wasn’t with him

He was still trapped between the crone and the shelving. “Will you come and see me before you leave the city?” she asked “It would be nice to share my tea with someone who would appreciate it.”

Logan thought to the gelatinous mess in the tea cup and gagged but Roman just smiled

“If time allows my lady.” He brought her withered hand to his lips and deposited a courtly kiss before sidestepping her and heading after Logan.

The city alley smelt almost like fresh air after the over mixture of incense, garlic and cat that her permeated the crones kitchen, and Logan breathed it in gratefully before setting off. Roman falling into sept beside him.

Logan glanced at him, uncertain.

He knew Roman was from the Northern Kingdom. He guessed from his speech patterns that he either grew up upper class or was truly committed to his larger than life bard persona. He had mentioned a brother once, off hand, and during an argument compared Logan to a tutor he’d disliked who had made him study maps until he could recount every river on the continent by heart.

That was all he knew.

Logan was curious by nature, a trait which tended to get him in trouble. He would have liked to pepper Roman with a hundred questions about life beyond the mountains, but Patton had told him once he should only ask a question about a sensitive subject if he was prepared to answer one himself.

None of them like to talk about where they came from, but that was fine. They were going forward together.

It was obvious though, that meeting his countryman had shaken Roman. He walked silently, even when they turned into a wider street and found the market still in full swing, shoppers crowding around each stall, he made no comment, only stepped closer to Logan.

If he was Patton, he might have known what to say to sooth whatever emotion was clouding Romans features. If he was Virgil, he might have made a joke or pointed out an interesting stall  to distract him

As it was..

“So do all Northerners believe in fairy stories or is it just you two?”

“What?”

“The dark fae of the forest? She can’t have been serious.”

Roman straighten up, fixing him with a mock glare “Logan! You’re honestly going to keep pretending you don’t believe in magic? You travel with an elf!”

“Half-elf. And there’s nothing mystical about him.”

“He makes potions Logan!”

“He mixes herbs into useful medicines, it’s no different than any human herbalist.”

“He chants when he does it. And his eyes do that thing.” Roman wiggled his fingers in front of his face, apparently to illustrate ‘that thing’.

“Which I’m sure helps him know how long each concoction needs to stew before adding the next ingredient. You cannot decided a race is magical just because they’ve failed to invent clocks.”

“Urgh!” Roman threw up his hands, “Sometimes you sound like you’re from Arkaze’yed.”

Arkaze’yd was on the western coast. The most industrially advanced of the great cities, they had recently converted the city temple into an extension of the university.

Logan preened. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Roman pulled a face. “You are such a - ooh! Jam tarts!”

He darted away again, but this time Logan couldn’t fault him. A boy was hastily unpacking a crate of what looked like fresh jam tarts onto his masters stall and the scent was delicious

They had to wait for three families ahead of them before they could finally have their turn. Roman picked out four of the tarts and chatted happily with the seller whilst Logan carefully counted out the money.

“I had herd the monthly market of Steveange was something to behold but this! Are you going to go all night?”

“Most likely.” The trader told them happily, “The towns packed for the coronation.”

“Coronation?”

“Princess Stephanie is to become queen,” the man gushed, one hand over his heart in what Logan considered to be an alarming display of emotional royalism. “The guests have been arriving all week.”

Logan nodded absently. That explained the hubbub. The rich went traveling and the poor went to see them. A coronation was a good enough excuse for a festival. If you liked that sort of thing.

“They say,” the trader whispered leaning forward, apparently unbothered by Logan’s total lack of interest in royal gossip, “That even the mad Prince is coming - Remus of Notaleveale!”

“Is that so.” said Logan, monotonously “Here’s your coin.” He turned to Roman to claim his pastry and – stared.

All the colour had drained from Romans face. He gaze was fixed on the trader, his eyes so wide he looked quite wild.

“Roman?” Logan asked, as gently as he could. He realised that Romans hands were shaking the second before the bag of pastries fell from his grip.

“Roman- ROMAN hey-“

Other customers were starting to push between them, Logan bent down quickly to rescue the bag form the floor and reached out to grab his friends hand.

But when he looked up, Roman had gone.

Part three