#god i need to have therapy sooner than in a month

[freakazoidwerebeast]

i wish i. knew how to let go and move on better. i had a bit of a confrontation with a friend the other night and he was very condescending towards me during the whole thing, and i told him that and said i didnt appreciate being treated that way, and he still hasnt said anything to me about it. And Its Been Days. i cannot seem to let this out of my head and its making me so anxious

[steddieas-shegoes]

It could have started when Eddie was basically living with Steve during his constant physical therapy post-Vecna.

It could have started when Steve took Eddie out for “adults only” dinners and movies that no other adult was invited to.

It could have started when Eddie visited Steve at work every shift to make sure he ate lunch, and giving him a very serious, no-way-you’re-getting-away-with-not-eating look.

It could have started when Steve had a migraine that almost had Robin dragging him to the hospital until Eddie stepped in and offered to keep watch over him for three days straight.

But it was hard to tell because Steve and Eddie circulated each other like the planets revolve around the sun, and circles don’t really have a beginning, or an end.

*************

“Dingus! Your boyfriend is here!”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Robs!”

Robin and Steve managed to work most shifts together, which helped the time pass. They bickered like siblings, though, and when Eddie showed up, Robin tended to annoy them both or completely disappear.

Steve was clueless as to why and Robin refused to give him any hints. “You’ll understand when you’re older,” she’d said with an eye roll and snort.

“Did you just call me his boyfriend?”

Eddie would hate to hear it, but he was like a ray of sunshine anytime he entered a room. At least if you asked Steve, that’s what he’d say, and he’d probably blush the entire time he said it.

He wouldn’t acknowledge it.

He’d pretend he thought that about a lot of people.

He’d be lying.

“I did. Maybe you two shouldn’t be so obvious all the time.”

Eddie and Steve just stared blankly at Robin.

“Steve’s not even gay!”

“Eddie doesn’t even like me like that!”

They both spoke at once, turning to each other in shock.

“I do like you like that!”

“I’m into both!”

They both spoke at once again. Robin just started laughing and walked away.

“You like me?”

“You like guys?”

Okay, deep breath. One at a time.

“You go first,” Steve said, hoping Eddie would clear any doubts from his head.

“I’ve been halfway in love with you for months, Stevie. I thought,” Eddie cleared his throat, awkwardly looking down at the floor. “I thought I was being too obvious sometimes. But I knew you weren’t into me back so. I mean we can still be friends. I don’t wanna lose you.”

Steve took a step closer to him.

“I’ve been halfway in love with you for months, too. I just thought you were being nice to me.”

Eddie chuckled and shook his head at the floor before looking up at Steve.

Beautiful, incredible, stupid Steve.

Never believing that anyone could care about him for him.

“I think maybe we’ve been dating this whole time.”

Steve’s jaw dropped, but closed quickly, his mouth settling on a soft smile.

“I guess maybe we have. What gave it away?”

“Probably the fact that you’re attached at the hip and any time someone mentions either of you to the other you get this dumb lovestruck look on your faces,” Robin stuck her head out from an aisle to yell at them.

“Shut it, Robin!”

She went back to what she was doing, deciding whatever meddling she’d managed was probably enough.

“So let me get this straight…”

“That may be difficult for both of us,” Steve let out.

Eddie cackled. “Oh god. I think I’m more than halfway in love with you,” he got out between laughter.

Steve joined him, mostly happy because Eddie was happy.

He probably should have realized this a lot sooner. Like, way sooner.

When they finally calmed down, they stared at each other with the look Robin was probably describing.

Lovestruck was a word for it, but it was more than that.

They were two people who never should’ve even been in the same circle, and they weren’t until they had to be. But since then, they’d chosen to be a part of each others’ lives. They’d chosen to support each other, and rely on each other, and trust the other person to be what they needed through it all.

They existed as two separate people still, Steve would never wrap himself up in someone so much that he lost himself. Not again.

But they had spent months becoming a pair, unbeknownst to them, and it made them better, it made them find ways to grow amongst trauma no one could imagine but them.

When they kissed, there weren’t fireworks, there wasn’t a world-ending realization that this was the love of their life, or even a racing heartbeat.

There was something that settled though. Something they hadn’t realized had been waiting for months while they danced around each other.

Not even Robin’s cheering from across the store could ruin their moment.

[yuukei-yikes]

i extended on something i wrote months ago in the subject of shinene codependency (and shinaya breakup) but its hidden in a Much longer post under a read more so i wanted to make it into its own post for my kagenalysis tag❤️:

to rant a bit abt the "personal narrative" of shintaro. i think it's interesting that shintaro is essentially a very self centered character and kagepro is very meta in the way it treats him as a main character. because inside of kagepro, he really gets as much focus as any other character, they're all "main" character to us. its rather inside the story he plays a very important role therefore he is the protagonist and as the protagonist he puts an end to the story itself too. i think this is all interesting together and fun to dissect shintaro's character as inherently self centered because that's what the story is. the initial premise is that he's a depressed guy living in regret he used to be "such a bad person" to someone he cared deeply about.

his self centeredness shows not only in the way he acts even without retaining activated, but he is really in the center of it. shintaro IS the protagonist and deep down even if he hasn't remembered yet, he knows that. so does everyone else. they all know they depend on him, sooner or later.

and i like to think of all this in a post str context thinking that the way he handles all that in everyday life once this story is over and theyre free from a narrative in the first place, is self destructive because its not compatible to being a normal person. he's a protagonist but there's nothing to be a protagonist OF anymore

so it IS taking him a bit to really LOOK at his friends and stop looking only for himself. technically he's lived a hundred doomed lives and now he's here trying out this one and again it is scary and new and... ene, who's been the most dedicated to centering her life around shintaro, is a clear safe place while navigating this.

he takes takane totally for granted because of this. in the narrative she has always been his sidekick. she has been the second main character to him. she has always lived and served him in all timelines, in all the time theyve known each other that she can't remember and he can, takane has been more ene than she's been takane to him, and ene has always been his annoying lap dog he hates as much as he needs in order for the story to move forward. takane of course reciprocrates the dynamic because it's also all she's known for a year. but... it's a year, vs. shintaro's God Knows How Many resets.

so eventually... as she is free from the narrative and very much her own person outside of him, capable of finding love and priorities somewhere else away from him and OUT LOUD tackling issues like hey we have a codependent dynamic going on we should work on, bc she does normal people stuff like going to therapy, takane moves on. which is mind blowing for shintaro AND HE DOESNT LIKE IT

he shuns it completely whenever takane brings it up, which she does a lot as time goes on. because time keeps going on. it keeps passing by. and everyone around him seems to be growing up and that's so infuriating and so terrifying and then stuff like ayano dating him and dumping him is as much of a reality check as ayano being alive in the first place, and he doesn't know what to do with it other than cry and thrive off the attention takane gives him again upon seeing him broken again.

he's in PAIN but it's familiar. it's comfortable. it's classic. it works. because the story he was a protagonist of was a tragedy, so he doesn't know how to behave when there is hope in the future. ❤️

[jitterbugjive]

Oh-- God, that's wild. And a lot more complicated than I thought. D: I do remember her publicly calling you out years ago, I can't remember what for (maybe it was vaguing, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't about any of this.) Felt more like a personal spat where she was offended/her feelings were hurt. ): I do hope she gets the help she needs, and you still come out of this okay. None of that relates to who you are now as a content creator.

It was about a few things, like the Derpy Blog incident, and claiming that I taught her to act like a sociopath because a long time ago she came to me asking about her lack of emotional empathy and need to manipulate others and in my naivete I suggested perhaps sociopathy could explain it. Because even I myself at the time was dealing with similar feelings and thought I might have been a sociopath because of it. This was before therapy and dealing with my trauma and realizing it wasn't sociopathy, but in fact dissociation. And when I did suggest it, I tried my best to give her tools to practice empathy and kindness, but she blames me for all the wrong and harm she's done to people because to her, my suggesting she had sociopathy was permission for her to act like a sociopath.

I struggled with the guilt of this for a while but my therapist told me no one can 'teach' someone to become a sociopath, that's not how that works. She chose to act that way on her own because she took something I said and ran with it, and I didn't give her enough tools to counter those thoughts but that's not my fault because I didn't intend for things to happen the way they did. I really tried to provide advice that would help her function more like a proper, kind person, but she ignored that advice. I'm not blaming her either by the way, she was a kid, kids are dumb, they tend to latch on to dumb things and take them way out of context. She was at that age where kids like to be edgy so I'm sure the idea of being a sociopath was cool to her.

She also called me out on something I told her when I was in a psychotic state, which was me saying I based Slate off of her. That wasn't true either, and I tried to explain it to her that in that state I believed everyone's characters HAD to be based on someone real, no exception, and I felt the need to tell her Slate was based on her because he had just a couple of things in common with her and therefor "they were connected" and I "subconciously" used Slate as an experiment to better understand her.

Again, I explained this to her, I told her that I was not in my right mind, and I told her the three characters Slate was actually based on from the anime Monster. But she apparently chose to believe I was lying and that I HAD to have based slate on her because of how similar they were.

I have a screencap of a convo here where she admits that she had a habit of taking anything wrong she did and blaming it on me, and the last convo I had with her was about a friend she manipulated and targetted because she thought he was too nice and naive and needed to learn a lesson about life.

I never meant to make her feel like she was a bad person, I just wanted to know why she did it, why she hurt someone that badly and pitted people against him.

She ghosted me after this convo, and a few months later deleted my Bedeviled Derpy blog with a long post of accusations against me.

THEN after that did a callout twitter with one of her buddies.

It's just

I have been too scared to defend myself because I don't want to look like one of THOSE people, but I'm so tired of people looking at just one side of the story and not understanding all the stuff that's being left out or twisted to sound worse than it actually is.

I want the best for her, I do, but I don't think I deserved this much backlash. If she'd just talked to me we could have come to an understanding, I feel. But that's not how she does things. She'd sooner ghost then lash out than actually discuss things. She'd rather tear people apart to get back at them than come to an understanding. Maybe she's different now, but I doubt she'll ever let go of the fact that I'm her scapegoat for everything that was ever wrong with her.

[neckromancy]

Not self ship related.

I've barely told anyone but I've decided to fuck it all and book my dream vacation.

I've been saving up since I was 19 to go to New Zealand. I am 31 now. I've had enough savings for a while and it has actually caused me so much financial distress to have so much money in my bank account; any financial benefit was forfeit despite being low income. I've saved hard with the little that I've always had. Only since a year ago I became more financially stable, although old habits die hard, I am still quite scarce in what I spend on food, living etc... I've always prioritized my dream vacation. The thing to keep going for, the reason to live, etc etc.

I've not booked my holiday because I had fear of going alone. I have autism and I get stressed out easily, and when I get stressed, I basically blank out, nothing makes sense anymore, and I basically go crazy (not in an angry way, but just a very upset way).

However, I've been grinding my gears so hard over this. None of my friends shared this dream and only in recent years it had come to light that some are interested. Issue is that they never saved up for it, and I honestly felt my heart dropp when they told me they would be ready no sooner than 2029.

A lot can happen in those years. They can lose interest, they can fail to bring up their savings, any of us can get cancer and die - YES this is literally where my mind goes. I genuinely often think about getting some terminal disease before I can go. I'll also be closer to 40, I am overweight, will I be as capable of going? It brings a lot of anxiety. Heck, what if my financial situation turns around again and I have to go back the way I lived before? My savings started draining VERY hard because I had to find out I cannot work fulltime and I had to eat away at my New Zealand money, watching my dream falter slowly, because any financial benefit... I was just not eligible for unless my savings would lower drastically.

So I've been thinking for a couple months now, more than half a year actually... about going alone after all. I've had so many talks in therapy, with fellow colleagues, just... people, about the situation, and honestly... I've cut the tie.

I'm going to New Zealand. I'm like ... crying over how much stress it is giving me, yet also joy. I've booked a trip and paid for the deposit. To pay for the rest I am still managing bank administration.

It's just giving me SO much stress though.

I've had to do the one thing I hate: install a banking app on my phone. It is the only way for me to do a payment above the 5k threshold, they literally won't let me do it through the browser (I tried, I called them, and I hate phone calls). I had to order a credit card because it is the only way to get my e-visum, along with accidentally uploading the wrong photo which means that I have to re-do it after they find the mistake in a few days, which I also needed to install an app for... gods!

I never wanted my phone to be involved with any financial things, but I suppose it's worth it for my dream vacation.

But here's the thing.

I did not tell the friends yet. The ones I'd go with. I am still too heartbroken by the 2029 shocker. I don't know how to tell them I'm going by myself, that I said "fuck it, 2024 is my year" and went ahead with it.

It's why I am posting about it on this blog and not my personal one, one of them follows me there.

I don't really know how to deal well with this. I'll first focus on getting my administration sorted, because god damn.

A cancellation insurance costs another 500 euros, and for what? The small chance I end up hospitalized and cannot go anymore? I have 6 more days to pick it up... but for now I am too stressed. It's just so much to do all of this by myself.

Oh, and the only reason I am capable of doing this alone is because I am taking a guided tour. No way I could do without, I have no driver's license or anything. The tour includes the flight, the hotels, the travel... it's nice. I just need to do a separate booking to visit Hobbiton, obviously I am going to Hobbiton. For that I also need to wait for my credit card...

I'll be so relieved when all administration is done.

[harajuku-cookie]

I'm sorry, I just need to get things off my chest, again. If I had my therapy session sooner rather than waiting over a month for it, it would've been helpful. Alas I have no choice but to wait and with no one to turn to, I'm gonna talk into the void.

I am completely mentally drained and exhausted in all sense of the word. I don't think it's been this bad since 2018. Honestly I think this time it's much worse. I rarely get out of bed unless I need to do something important or forcibly drag myself out. I can't sleep at night and sleep most of the day when I'm allowed to, well unless I'm dealing with a nightmare, which has become my daily hell. Trust me when I say I would rather dream of Michael Myers, Freddy Kruger, and Chucky chasing me than the dreams I've been having. I've been eating a lot of chocolate just to feel some kind of joy.

I don't have anyone to talk to. My mom has never been a reliable person to talk to about this stuff because she's too judgemental, doesn't get it, is too stressed out herself, or she makes me about herself like, "Oh if I can do it, so can you so you have no excuse." My friend is busy with her life and I don't feel comfortable telling her stuff like this when she's already dealing with so much. And in general I've just been feeling ignored and pushed to the side like I'm not there, like my voice doesn't matter.

All of this is starting to affect me physically to the point where I feel pain in my chest and feel my blood pressure spiking and my stomach churning from how stressed out I am. And no matter how much I try to distract myself, do all the breathing exercises, and practicing mindfulness, it hasn't worked. Hell I almost passed out in the store today from how bad it was. And I know I need to find a way to fix it, especially with surgery two weeks away, but man has it been hard.

And I know this is going to sound sad and pathetic, but literally the only thing keeping me going is Gilbert's route being released in EN soon. I'm remembering I had an attempt back in December '22 and the only thing that stopped me was that I didn't get Gilbert's 5 star card when they officially dropped in EN and I wanted more opportunities to try and win it. Then it turned into I wanted to read more stories about him, then wanting to read translations of his route that was released in JP, and now I'm trying to use his EN route release to keep moving forward, even though all I want to do is give up. If it keeps me alive, why not? Not that I'm heavily depending on a fictional character to keep me above water, just that he's part of the little pieces that give me motivation to keep going. I also want to see the surgery through and recover and hopefully feel better enough to have a new life, I want to find a good job that pays well so I can have more income to help out and do more things that I want to do, I want to make more cosplay, draw and write more, create that custom Emma doll, wear the pretty dresses, travel at the very least out of my city/state, make it to my 30th birthday, find more GF and dairy free snacks I can actually eat, read more romance books, and so on. Even if I'm on my own in all of this, if I can use these things to hold on, I'll try to keep pushing forward.

For now I'll have my good cry, eat my chocolate peanut butter cups, take a shower, and hope that maybe God will grant me mercy and make tomorrow a much better day for me.

[erineverly]

Had Axl said those things even a few months ago, Erin would have jumped to conclusions and snapped at him, but now she can see that they’re on the same team — they both have their son’s best interest in mind and want to help him navigate through this difficult time. “I would never choose anyone over Sebastian and I know that you wouldn’t either,” she says with conviction, smiling softly even as her stomach churns like an old washing machine. The mere possibility that she’s invited this man into her home and now he might be mistreating her baby is enough to make her feel nauseous. It’s also a hard reality to accept, which is why she wants to deny it. However, she, too, has noticed those changes in Sebastian and there must be an explanation. She vividly remembers all the stories that Axl’s shared with her throughout the years, about how he was abused by his stepfather both physically and emotionally and how he acted out because of it, and even she can see that there are a few disturbing similarities. “Anthony would never lay a hand on him,” she insists with a shake of her head, certain that her boyfriend’s never disciplined her son in any way. Still, she can’t shake off this unsettling feeling that maybe she can’t be sure of anything. After all, it’s not like she knows Anthony all that well and he can be rather temperamental. “We need to sit him down and talk about this. I don’t know if today is a good day, but maybe… How do we even go about this?” As much as she doesn’t want to admit it, because it would mean that she’s not as observant as she thinks she is, that she’s failed to protect her only baby, she has to accept the fact that she could have missed something. “I want him to know that we’re always on his side, that I’m always on his side.” She doesn’t want Sebastian to wonder if he can come to her and open up, worry that she might not believe him. She’ll always believe him.

“It’ll always be one of my biggest regrets,” she admits with a sigh, pressing her lips together and inhaling deeply as his fingers sink into her dark curls. God, it feels so good. “I wish I’d listened to you and gotten help sooner, but I was so prideful back then. It was easier to point a finger at you and put all the blame on you than admit I wasn’t a good person. My therapist says that blaming others for how we express inappropriate actions enhances our sense of being justified for those actions, and I guess she’s right. It’s horrible to admit, but I didn’t feel quite as guilty about starting a fight or throwing that first punch if I told myself that it was all your fault. I’m sorry, Axl. You deserved so much better.” She doesn’t want to say it out loud, but when she lies alone in bed, struggling to fall asleep, she often ponders all the what could have been, what should have been, and ends up staying awake all night, wishing she’d made different life choices. “Neither of us was truly ready to be in a serious relationship at the time, but those were the best years of my life, despite all the issues and challenges so on one hand I’ll forever be grateful that you asked me out that night, but I also know that in the perfect world… We’d probably be meeting each other just now.” They have it all figured out now, both have gone through some intense therapy sessions, and it’s just their luck that they’re in different relationships and reconciliation isn’t an option. “It definitely did. You’re nothing like your parents. You realized there was a problem and got help. You admitted to all those mistakes and owned up to them. You’re the best dad in the world.” This apple really did fall far from the tree. “I’m happy, too. You have no idea how long I’d been meaning to have this conversation with you, how long I’d wanted to say all these things and hear you say everything that you just said. It means the world to me,” she says softly, letting out an airy chuckle as his lips brush against her head. Her heart nearly jumps out of her chest, expanding and stealing her breath away once more. The way he’s looking at her, with so much kindness, has her melting into a puddle, and for a split second it almost feels like they’re the only two people in the world. There’s something intimate about this moment, about the way they’re gazing into each other’s eyes and smiling, how their hearts seem to be beating as one again, the friendliness of these touches and hugs could easily be mistaken for affection, and just as this insane thought of doing something stupid like kissing his cheek begins to brew in Erin’s mind, the door flies open and startles her, their rumbustious four year old striding in. 

“It’s Eh-vis, baby!” Sebastian announces loudly, standing in the middle of the room with his feet a little too far apart for it to be truly comfortable. He lifts his right arm up into the air only to bring it down vigorously and pluck the strings of his toy guitar, causing an explosion of screeching sounds. He’s wearing that white jumpsuit, rhinestones sparkling, and his hair is standing up on top of his head, covered in so much mousse as though he were one of those synchronized swimmers at the Olympics and couldn’t risk a single lock slipping onto his face. He opens his mouth to start singing, give the performance of his lifetime, but that’s when his emerald eyes look up from his electric guitar and find his parents snuggled up to one another. Erin’s arms fall from Axl’s waist almost immediately, her jaw dropping to the floor when she realizes that they’ve left this child alone with no supervision for way too long, and she quickly covers her mouth with her hands, too stunned to make any sounds. “Why’d you — Umm… Why’d you close da door?” The boy inquires, tilting his head to the side as if that was the most peculiar thing in the whole world. A warm grin blooming on his angelic features because it's been so long since he saw mommy and daddy hug like this, and it makes him happy.

“I just don’t think he’s exaggerating. Sounds like how I acted when my mom chose me over strange men. Not sayin’ YOU are choosing anyone over him, just sayin’ those are similar things I did when I was being treated unfairly by her new boyfriend. That’s definitely how I acted out as a kid.” Majority of his entire childhood. And now that this conversation is branching into deeper territory about it, it starts to worry him. He’s going to have to question Sebastian more about it… what if that’s the real reason he’s being so clingy to him? “Not really much at all, it’s just things I notice he’s been giving away.” Like he previously stated just now.

“I know. That’s the part I always felt alone on, that’s the part I knew was going to finally be the thing to end our relationship…us BOTH not goin’ to therapy.” Actually, he hates recalling those moments when he felt he was talking to a wall because Erin had all that pride and there was no hope for them lasting when he realized that. “Yeah…” Confirming he remembers, he’ll never forget. “I’d never regret that, Erin. But at the same time…I was selfish. I wasn’t mentally stable to egg you on into a relationship with someone like me.” Too much damage to function like a caring person, he should’ve known that was a stupid thing to do but at the same time he couldn’t help he was wildly insanely in love with her. “It did?” His brows lift and surprise also lifts in his voice, at her thinking the opposite of hin. “Umm…” Eyes fall downwards, shyly thinking about it. He doesn’t know how much he believes in himself but he’s elated to know she can call him good after everything. “I don’t deserve that, sweetheart.” Shaking his head, he leans down to kiss the top of her head. “But thanks for sayin’ that and I’m glad we could talk about these things. I’m real happy.” Green eyes look back to her blue ones, his heart doing a flutter all on its own. A genuine smile passing by on his face for once. “I forgive you too.” His hands still brushing through her hair, more out of nervousness than anything because he doesn’t know how to suppress the unsolicited somersaults in his stomach as he’s frozen in this position with her.

[hiddenbysuccubi]

How do I schedule and get T cells checked without a primary doctor?

I’m just. My dad was 20 years older than I am now when he was diagnosed advanced leukemia and then dead within 6 months and a couple days of diagnosis. And I -think- I had Covid in Feb or March 2020 (Seattle/Kirkland Hotspot outbreak before we knew wtf was up) and my friend who recently had it twice (even fully vaccinated) has really low count. I mean I need a 101 medical things (IUD is failing, I’m developing more cysts which tracks as they’ve showed on multiple imaging over years, I was never definitively diagnosed despite surgery and a psuedo-diagnosis for endo, my cousin was absolutely given PCOS, I have definitively gotten ultrasound proof of having them and can pinpoint when I have cysts, and when those cysts are different from and off-cycle from what I consider endo pain (surgeon found spots they said a more precise surgeon would be able to -go into the muscle and/or organ walls- would find more proof of except I had that option and it would have taken months longer and she was able to operate sooner) THAT pain is also off schedule and different from blood spotting, Anyway my body is a hell. I started gaining weight in -one specific area exactly- years ago after it was filled with CO2 after surgery, THEN other parts of my body, and for the few years I had with NO pain or period, it was worth it absolutely. And I never addressed after worker’s comp sponsored physical therapy that the xrays showed my spine fully skewed to one side due to musculoskeletal stress, nor the fact that my hips are just a “gestures hands wildly” skewed like a tilted bowl instead of straight-aligned which also explains one leg slightly longer than the other which - my god, MY FEET, ,,,,, And I had a permanent tooth pulled due to a small town dentist screw up replacing a cap years ago but they damaged and cut into the tooth next to it in the process and then never answered my phone calls and now that tooth has had a hole in its cap for over a year or two and I’m just ~coping~ I’m coping. America has shite medical care thank you goodnight.  

[summaryi]

A Court of Mist and Fury - Sarah J. Maas (Book 2)

oh my heart

SPOILERS BELOW

MY HEART FUCKING BROKE. YOU KNOW WHEN IT BROKE. YOU FUCKING KNOW.

IT BROKE WHEN TAMLIN LOCKED HER IN THE HOUSE.

GOD FUCKING DAMN

OKAY SO

Feyre pre-Amarantha needed her Beauty and the Beast moment. But she went through fucking SHIT in Amarantha’s bullshit trials and DIED and CAME BACK TO LIFE and Tamlin, I SWEAR TO GOD I KNOW YOU’RE FUCKED UP TOO, LIKE GODDAMN, A LOT HAS HAPPENED, YA BOI NEEDS THERAPY

WHERE’S THE FUCKING FAE THERAPIST

IT SURE AS HELL ISN’T IANTHE

AND HE

WELL

HE’S FUCKED UP TOO I GET IT

THEY’RE JUST

THEY’RE JUST NOT COMPATIBLE WITH EACH OTHER AT THIS MOMENT

AND IT

FUCKING HURTS TO SEE

I don’t doubt that he loves her. I don’t doubt that she loves him. They’re also - at this point - so very different than when they first met. 

Tamlin needs to rebuild (or try to) whatever vision he has for the Spring Court. He wants to pull inwards and deal with whatever lies outside the Spring Court’s borders with an overabundance of caution.

Feyre cannot look inwards, or else the fuckery she’s still recovering from and processing will pull her into its black hole.

God. It hurt so much when he. Stupid bubble. You know.

And Lucien. Fuck. I liked Lucien a lot more in Book 1. I just feel like. I don’t know. It’s a hard situation for him, too.

I love Rhys. I’M SIMPING UWU

The shit he went through with Amarantha. IT FUCKING HURTS ME TO THINK OF BABY RHYS, CASSIAN, AND AZRIEL GROWING UP TOGETHER. THE SHIT THEY WENT THROUGH. THE LOVE AND TRUST THEY HAVE IN EACH OTHER. GOD.

I do love that Velaris, for me, in MY PERSONAL READING EXPERIENCE, was mostly townhome. It truly is the secret getaway where Rhys and his Inner Circle get to be themselves. Not High Lord, or General, or whatever.

Honestly, I didn’t understand why Feyre was mad that Rhys didn’t tell her they’re mates. Like, when did he have time girl. WHEN DID HE HAVE A MOMENT. WHAT WOULD HAVE BEEN CONVENIENT FOR YOU?

When he ran into you at Calamnai? HuH???? When the only thing you wanted was Tamlin and you weren’t even able to tell him you loved him?

Oh, Under the Mountain? I’m sorry, when you were busy trying not to die and Rhys was trying his damndest to keep you alive???? Oh, by the way, when you were doing all that shit for Tamlin? Should he have told you then?

Or what about when you were reeling from trauma and trying to piece yourself and your world back together? When you couldn’t eat or sleep? Should he have been like hey howdy hot stuff, it’s me, ya boi - we mates - see ya next month!

Or when he whisked you away from your wedding TO TAMLIN? yEAAH, that would have gone so well. SO LIKE. I DON’T KNOW. IS IT JUST ME. I DON’T KNOW WHY SHE’S SO UPSET HE DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING SOONER BECAUSE IT SEEMS TO ME THAT THERE WASN’T EVER REALLY A GOOD FUCKING TIME FOR THAT KIND OF CONVERSATION

Not a big deal, actually, she gets over it pretty quickly. Am I the weird one, for not understanding why she gets mad? Not to like. Invalidate her feelings. You do you girl. Your emotions are valid. But also you are a fictional character and I’m dumping my own emotions and thoughts here. So like. I don’t get it. Like, he wasn’t telling you but also. When could he have. It’s not like he was like “hey i’ve been hiding a really big secret about like - how you can undo every bad thing that happened to you and there are no negative consequences.”

I hated that Rhys shared Velaris with the human queens. I hated that. I hated that. I get it. I understand it. It hurt me. IT HURT ME.

AND TAMLIN’S FUCKING BETRAYAL. HE SOLD THEM OUT TO HYBERN FOR WHAT? FEYRE? DOES HE ok so like

me? projecting? maybe. tamlin = fictional? absolutely

does he still love her (purely) or does he just want her back in this weird desperate hope that once she’s back everything will click back into place and give him the life he thinks he deserved and wanted and his happily ever after will occur and the rest of eternity will be happily ever after

So like

ya

what da fuck boi

I can see the angle of “keep your enemies closer” and “i would’ve been able to spy on Hybern’s plans and movements if I let them use my lands” but also like

dis some fucked up shit and idk if your reasoning is that sound my guy and is the price worth it and like - you are dealing with HYBERN here they are FUCKED UP, bro, like come ON, is any deal you make with them going to be worth it fr fr sheeeeesh

Lucien being like Elain is my mate kinda like

out of left field for me

very you get a mate, and you get a mate, and you get a mate, everybody gets a mate energy and i like

idk

it was a lot

i want a hot Fae mate too T_T (NOT THAT MY CURRENT PARTNER ISN’T FABULOUS I LOVE THEM VERY MUCH but like also Fae magic isn’t my current reality and i wish it was)

Feyre, High LaDY OF THE NIGHT COURT?

wig SNATCHED

i love this for her

fuck it UP, Rhys!!!!!!!!!!!! we stan a woke hot boi

[livingwithlosingyou]

Living with Losing You - 11/27/2022

Okay, now I am sick. 

It finally happened. I woke up actually sick this morning. I feel like complete ass. 

Anyway, this blog is going to be shorter cause I feel like shit and I didn’t do a ton today. I went to PS this morning for breakfast which was so much more tiring than I could have ever imagined. I ate that and basically sat on my ass and watched Netflix most of the day. I did leave to pick up Sadie, grab her dogfood, and then get myself lunch. That was not until about 12:30pm though. I also got the animals some Christmas themed collars (pictures will happy sooner or later). But yeah, I am just focusing primarily on resting today. 

I am sad that I finished the entire series of “Dead to Me”. It was really good. I honestly appreciated how it talked about grief and loss. Makes me feel a little less crazy. Which is the perfect Segway to the fact that I struggled today. Badly. I just feel awful. Full body aches, coughing, trouble breathing, fever, etc. It’s not COVID cause I tested for it. Whatever it is, it’s the worst. I guess if I had to compare it to Hand, Foot, and Mouth though, not as bad. But still, I don’t appreciate how much I have been sick the last 4-5 months. I still can’t even believe it’s been that long. 

Pho hit the spot though. I got a banana smoothie  well because I was in my feels. I had sushi for dinner, and while I was waiting I went to Michaels (yes, with a mask) and bought some more Christmas décor. Retail therapy does wonders. I forgot to mention this in a prior blog, but I finally ordered myself a new Garmin watch that should be coming soon. I can’t wait for that!

If you think this blog is all over the place, you are correct. my ADHD (undiagnosed but we all know I have it lol) is so much worse when I don’t feel well. 

I was supposed to go to PT tomorrow, but since I had a fever, I had to cancel my appointment. That sucks. I am also supposed to do some holiday / Christmas recording on Tuesday but my voice is shit right now. 

Okay - back to what I was saying about today being tough. I just am sad that you aren’t going to be here for Christmas. I appreciated how much you supported how much I just love this holiday. It also doesn’t help that I am sick and it makes me sad that you aren’t here to take care of me like you used to. Insult to injury. 

At one point I was crying and asking God to direct me to what he wants me to see (sometimes I will do this with the bible) and I literally opened it up to Job. Which, people have compared my life to at this point. Anyway, it was the section when Job was basically bitching at God like “where are you I am doing all the right things and you’re not here”. Not a direct quote (LOL), but you know what I mean. It was very telling. I prayed for your sobriety. Most of all, I prayed for your peace, and I still do. I love to sense you, but it also saddens me because I just miss you so much. I know I need to trust in the Lord and his plan, but he did make me human with 1,000 emotions. I am trying. 

I really need to go to bed at a somewhat decent time tomorrow because I have to work, even if I feel like shit. There is too much to do before the NYC trip this weekend. Honestly, I need to take this week a day at a time otherwise I will get overwhelmed. AHHHHHHH.

You were the one thing that could keep me grounded. I miss that. I am figuring that out again. 

Before I end this blog, I wanted to leave some lyrics that I wrote today. All about being honest and vulnerable on here so:

Does anything ever make sense? I’m putting up my tree again I don’t really wanna be around for Christmas 

Everyone’s cozied up at home I’m on the couch, all alone I don’t really wanna be around for Christmas

Holly Jolly nothing It’s the worst time of the year The stockings are filled with coal and the one thing I held dear, Is, gone Like the winter As it melts into the spring  I don’t really wanna be around for Christmas Season’s Greetings, fuck everything

I am clearly upset. It just feels unfair that you had to die. But, I am trying to focus on gratitude. And look, I LOVE this time of year. But it doesn’t mean that I am also not bitter. It’s hard not to be. Grief is a fucking bitch. 

I love you, James. I know you loved me too. 

Rest in Peace, James Burton Nichols

10/1/1993 - 7/16/2022

PS - Some not so fun pics from today. 

[earnestly-endlessly]

*flies in like magneto* can i get some exes to lovers™?

Do I have some exes to lovers fics for you? Yes I certainly do. It seems that the cherik fandom loves some exes to lovers cherik and I don't blame anyone because this ship really calls for all the angst. I hope you enjoy this list.

Exes to Lovers AU

Bound – FuryRed

Summary: Is there anything worse than someone else’s wedding? Well, perhaps your sister’s wedding- where the groom just has to invite his boss and that man just happens to be your ex-boyfriend; a person you had an extremely passionate and tumultuous relationship with that ended badly.

Charles hadn’t seen Erik for a year by the time Raven had told him about the wedding. He wasn’t looking forward to the occasion, particularly when Raven explained that they would be celebrating the event with a two-week extravaganza at a luxury hotel, meaning that Charles would be forced to spend a whole fortnight with the man who he’d given everything to; the man who had ultimately broken his heart…

Preheat to 350 (just for you remix) – ikeracity

Summary: Charles realizes he's in love with Erik. But there's one tiny little problem: he just broke up with Erik.

Thread Through a Needle – Black_Betty

Summary: Erik and Charles are broken up. Neither of them want to be.

Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) – kianspo

Summary: While working as a model for Raven and Emma's clothing line, Erik experiences a strong attraction to his shoot partner. These things happen, except Erik has a boyfriend, who does not take this at all well.

Linger like a tattoo kiss – ikeracity

Summary: Six months apart gives Erik a lot of time to think about what he really wants.

(Erik's POV from Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) by kianspo)

Symphysis – ikeracity

Summary: After Charles and Erik broke up four months ago, Charles convinced himself he'd never see Erik again. But life has a funny way of bringing people back together.

Call/Response – phalangine

Summary: Charles and Erik have a real conversation for the first time since breaking up. Charles is looking to avoid confrontation. Erik is not.

Regression Therapy – Fantine_Black

Summary: O, God, he’d made a terrible mistake. Whatever he’d expected to find here, Erik was still Erik, a man he’d moved continents to avoid. In retrospect, that felt like a rather good idea…

Four years after Charles walked away from Professor Lehnsherr, the two meet again for a drink.

Because things are better the second time round, aren't they?

Forever is Only a Drunk Dial Away – bettysofia

Summary: Charles is sad and drunk and stalking Erik's Instagram.

Shop Space – Caradee

Summary: Charles and Erik break up but still meet at their favorite coffee shop and manage a completely friendly relationship. The kids who work the coffee shop don't understand it, Charles' overprotective twin brother doesn't understand it, and even Charles doesn't understand it. Then, Erik shows up with a new date, someone who seems to be everything that Charles is not.

How will the Professor handle the surprising heartbreak that comes seeing Erik with someone else?

Mutant House at Dead Kings College – mabyn

Summary: When it comes to romance, Charles has terrible timing.

Can You Feel My Heart – FuryRed

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr hates Charles Xavier.

It’s as true as the words written on the wall in the bathroom at the university that Erik attends. Erik sees them one day- accompanied by a crude drawing of Erik and Charles glaring at each other- and recognises the truth of the sentence, and smiles.

He hates Charles.

Probably…

Believe (One More Time) – luninosity

Summary: For the prompt, Charles and Erik dated during college and had a bitter break-up right before graduation. It's five years later and they both meet again at their class's reunion for a weekend. Someone was even stupid enough to have them room with each other for the weekend...

Old Flame Burning – TurtleTotem

Summary: It's ridiculous for Charles to dread meeting the best man at his sister's wedding, just because he shares a name with Charles's ex. It's not as though it could possibly be the same Erik.

Don’t speak to the bartender – Wild_Imagination

Summary: Logan is a bartender, it's a gloomy evening, and in his bar there's someone with a broken heart. But this is not a movie.

Right?

Somewhere I’m Going & Have Never Been Before – Yahtzee

Summary: In late December 1984, Charles falls victim to the terrible pandemic sweeping across the globe. He's sick, probably dying, and utterly alone in an isolated cabin...until he's not.

Walking in a Winter Wonderland – TurtleTotem

Summary: Charles hasn't seen Erik since their devastating breakup ten years ago. He's certainly the last person he expects to run into at a Christmas lights display.

Lean On Me – SpiritsFlame

Summary: Ten years ago, Charles and Erik split up, dividing their six kids between them. None of them expect them to meet at summer camp. And no one could have predicted the results.

It was a yellow umbrella spring – ikeracity

Summary: Three years after Charles left for Oxford, Erik discovers that Charles is coming back to New York.

Second chances are wonderful things.

My heart above my head – annejumps

Summary: Emma thinks her coworker Erik and her friend and fellow telepath Charles should get together. No one expects things to get so intense so quickly.

The Edge of What Doesn’t End – populuxe

Summary: When a mysterious object appears on the moon, Moira MacTaggert calls in two experts with very specific mutations to investigate.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, after years of breaking up and getting back together again, those two experts have finally broken up for good—and they’re the last people in the world who should be stuck together on a spaceship.

Exit Wounds – LemonadeGarden

Summary: It's been eight months since Charles and Erik had a fight that broke apart their marriage. When a mutant rights protest goes awry and Charles begins to get sick, past memories and present obstacles begin to blur the lines of their ideological differences.

Alternatively: Charles and Erik learn how to fall in love again in troubled times.

Note: Unfinished

11 Days, 8 Hours and 12 Minutes (or Bruises, Stupidity and Anger Management) – ximeria

Summary: For six months, Erik and Charles have been the disgustingly happy couple of the school. Considering their pigheadedness and general communication skills (or lack thereof), things are bound to go boom at some point.

Moon Song – ikeracity

Summary: Werewolf AU. When Charles is captured by hunters, Erik and his pack go after him. It turns out there might be some room for redemption left for both of them after all.

I will Never Stop Loving You – swoopswoop

Summary: Erik and Charles split up three years ago but Erik never really got over it and then one day when the man who walked out of his life three years ago is walking down the street towards him, Erik sees an opportunity to mend fences.

Please leave your message after the tone – ikeracity

Summary: Spending his evening getting shitfaced and pining over Erik seems like a totally productive use of Charles's time. Luckily, it turns out to be a better idea than it sounds.

When the Spell Breaks – kianspo

Summary: Erik, a high-profile lawyer with a successful career, meets a 21-year-old grad student in a bar, and within a few short months marries him. He and Charles are blissfully happy, until Erik's boss runs a background check on Charles and discovers he's been cheating on Erik. Charles denies everything, as there was no affair, but Erik doesn't believe him and throws him out. As Charles tries to figure out how to survive and stay at school that he can no longer afford and makes a lot of bad if not plain dangerous choices, Erik has to fight his own battle of discovering the truth and winning Charles back.

We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven (the things you love don’t last remix) – hllfire

Summary: Charles hands Erik the signed divorce papers, but Erik has changed his mind. Too late, it seems. All he can do is go forward with the divorce.

A year later, Charles comes back, and Erik can't help but wanting to see him. The only problem is things don't go like Erik had planned.

Suddenly There’ll Be a Blizzard (Let it Snow Remix) – kianspo

Summary: Charles was never at his best while jetlagged, but locking himself out in a snowstorm while barely dressed might be a new low. The last thing he expected was to be rescued by his high school nemesis, the man he hadn't seen in over ten years, who might have broken his heart for good once upon a time.

Write this number down (you can call it anytime) – pocky_slash

Summary: When Erik upsets his children, they have a habit of running away from home--and straight to Charles' school for cookies and consolation. Charles doesn't mind the visitors, but as they appear more and more frequently, he realizes that sooner or later, he and Erik are going to have to talk about what happened on the beach and what it means for their future and the future of Erik's children.

All we do is break up (and make up) – Stuckyl0v3r

Summary: "So instead of making the most out of this next months, because you don't know where either of you is going to end up, you decided to stay away from each other to get used to the feeling?" Hank summed up, stopping in front of the class. Charles nodded his head confidently and beamed at him, but somehow his smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Yes, something like that."

Well, that was the most idiotic plan Hank's ever heard.

Three wheels of cheese and a Great White – ximeria

Summary: Charles and Erik were friends with benefits in college.

They went their separate ways and 18 years later, they run into each other in New York.

The sex was never a problem back in college - and sex was all it had been. But now Erik is a divorced father and Charles has admitted to himself he needs more than just sex in a relationship. So in their usual round-about way they try to navigate becoming friends after so many years. The whole quest is aided by Raven, Edie, Wanda and Pietro (and a large number of shark jokes).

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 0

Hearing positive feedback on my last post absolutely made my day. So here's some more. A distraught y/n confides in Dr. Lecter about her upbringing. Takes place before previous post.

Trigger warning: discussions of emotional manipulation by a parent figure, implied death of parent

"The truth is, sir." You looked down at your knees, acutely aware that the intimidating man sitting across from you was hanging on your every word. "...I really don't want to be an engineer."

To your therapist, this wasn't the earth-shattering secret you built it up to be. "What do you want to do?"

"This is going to sound stupid, but..." you began, slumping back in your seat. "I want to study cults."

“That doesn’t sound stupid whatsoever, dear.” Dr. Lecter assured you, in the most comforting way he could. “Cults are fascinating. Why do you want to study cults, Miss [L/N]?"

"I dunno." You said, shrugging. "You tell me. Maybe it's because that new HBO docuseries about Keith Raniere was super interesting. Or maybe it's because I recently discovered Steven Hassan's BITE model and got scared at how many boxes my family ticked off."

He leaned forward. "Interesting, Miss [L/N], that the first time you use the word 'family' with me, it’s to compare it to a cult. Why do you think that is?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you these questions?" You huff. "I don't know, because my grandma uses a lot of emotional manipulation to make me fall in line?"

“Can you give me an example?” Dr. Lecter probed. 

“Well,” Your eyes darted around the room. “She sent me to this fancy STEM high school and anytime I so much as bring up changing my major, she guilts me out of it by saying how expensive it all was. She compares me to my cousins all the time, saying shit like ‘but Theresa makes six figures as a petroleum engineer for Halliburton.’ Oh, and this one time-” 

“And you understand that she is emotionally manipulating you?” Dr. Lecter cut you off. 

“It’s not like she’s trying to hide it.” You rolled your eyes. “I feel stupid for not catching on sooner.” 

“Have you ever been told to ask yourself,” Dr. Lecter began. “why she’s still in your head, still dictating what you can and can’t do even two years into college?”

“Yeah.” You sighed. “It’s because she’s an evil genius and I’m an idiot.” 

“No.” His voice hardened as if to take offense on your behalf. “Her understanding of how to subjugate people is surface-level at best. Tell me, does she yell at the waitstaff at restaurants?”

You nod and crack a small, amused smile. “All the time.” 

“Can you tell me, Miss [L/N],” Dr. Lecter said. “What is one of the most recognizable aspects of a cult?” 

You thought for a minute. “A charismatic leader.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “And is there anything less charismatic than an old woman throwing a temper tantrum like a child over a minor inconvenience?” 

You smothered a giggle with your fingers. “No, I suppose not.” 

“You see, it’s easy for a parent figure to manipulate their child.” Dr. Lecter explained, leaning towards you. “The work of creating an uneven power dynamic is already done. That's where the difference lies, Miss [L/N]." 

“That...” You said to yourself. “...actually makes a lot of sense.” 

“You’re not doing yourself any good seeing your grandmother as Keith Raniere. All you’re doing is inflating her ego.” He concluded. “She’s no evil genius. She’s a self-serving old woman with a god complex.”

“But if she’s not Keith Raniere, that means I’m just...” You felt yourself shrinking in your seat. An uncomfortable laugh forced its way out of you. “I’m just dumb.” 

“You were a child.” Dr. Lecter said, his voice and expression softening. “You weren’t supposed to know you were being manipulated. You were supposed to be able to trust the adults in your life.”  

"That's right..." You felt a knot in your throat. "...a child."

"I want you to go straight to your academic advisor and tell her you intend to change your major." Dr. Lecter instructed. "Throw yourself into a new, exciting field of study even if it means you have to start all over again. No more excuses, Miss [L/N]. You need to be in control of your life."

“And what about my grandma?” You asked, your voice trailing off. 

“What about her?” Dr. Lecter tilted his head. “Your schooling is being paid for with your mother’s savings, correct? Legally speaking, it’s your money.” 

“I guess.” You shrugged. His passing mention of your mother made you tense up. “It shouldn’t be, but I guess.” 

Dr. Lecter paused for a second, taking note of your discomfort. “Miss [L/N], you’ve been in therapy for four months and you routinely avoid discussion about your mother. We both know there’s something unresolved there.”

“What’s to resolve?” You said, a defensive bite in your voice. “You can’t miss what you never had.” 

“Is that how you really feel?” 

“Yes.” You said with enough conviction to even fool yourself. “If the point of therapy is to get to a point where you’re comfortable with something, we shouldn’t waste our time talking about this. Cause I’m already comfortable with it.” 

“Okay, Miss [L/N].” Dr. Lecter nodded. “I trust you.” 

And in that moment, you knew you were lying to each other. 

But you made a point to call your academic advisor that afternoon. 

[psychovigilantewrites]

Chapter 14 - A Different Point of View

Summary:  Things that happened that you weren't aware of.

Word count: 9,163 words

A/N: Thank you for being so patient with me. I struggled with this chapter due to its nature. I had to further dive into Bruce and Dick's character that I wasn't too familiar with.2020 was a very tough year for me. I lost lots, learned lots. And I thought that the quarantine would mean I would write more. But I was wrong. Life hit me hard, and I stopped doing a lot of things I used to enjoy.Despite being virtually absent last year, you guys stuck by me anyway. Thank you. I love you all for that.Special thanks to my two beta readers. You know who you are. Here it goes.

(i recommend you guys read previous chapters to refresh coz I had to lol)

Ao3

Masterlist

The roles that people played were false- a mere necessity for their career or survival. Everyone was playing a role, whether it was of their own accord or not.

Bruce Wayne was a role- superficial, fake, yet vital to Gotham. Batman, on the other hand, was a completely different role, born out of exigence and a sense of justice.

Dick Grayson, however, genuinely enjoyed playing his role.

Nightwing felt right to him. Being a police officer felt right to him. And especially, if not ultimately, being an older brother.

He listened to the dial tone of his phone, which rung for a few seconds before you finally picked up.

“Hey,” Dick heard your voice, the usual chirp absent that day.

Dick frowned to himself. Bruce was right about you being troubled after all.

“Hey, sis!” he forced the concern out of his voice. “You busy?”

“Nah, I’m just going over some old case files. What’s up?”

Dick leaned back into his sofa. Aside from the traffic blaring outside, the silence in his apartment made it easier for him to concentrate on analysing your speech patterns.

“Can’t I call just to ask how you’re doing?” he teased, easing into the conversation.

Everyone had always told him how he was natural at talking.

“You already called last week…”

Dick smiled to himself. He could already picture your narrowed eyes regarding him with suspicion.

It was good that you were always on your feet, but it was becoming borderline unhealthy. It reminded him of Jason and how he was always so guarded .

He pushed the memory away.

“I can’t call you again?” he rolled his eyes at no one.

“Bruce put you up to this,” you accused.

That’s because he’s worried about you, kid.

If only you knew how much Bruce had changed for you. Dick was glad that you were being loved by Bruce, yet he still couldn't help but feel slightly bitter that he never got that kind of treatment from his father- not the same treatment he gave you.

But he would rather die than admit his selfish thoughts to anyone.

“Yeah,” he conceded, “He was worried about you after last night.”

“I’m fine, Dick,” you insisted.

How many times has he heard those very same words from Jason?

“Well, if you’re not, then you can talk to me,” he offered.

A short pause.

Your response would be what differentiated you from his late brother.

“Actually, yeah,” you admitted.

There it was. No matter how stupid he knew it was for even comparing the two of you, he found that he always had to remind himself not to.

“How did you deal with it? Did it affect you?”

Dick told you his own experience with gore and dead bodies, how he overcame it, how he coped. There was silence after, and he just somehow knew what you were going to ask next.

“How did, uh, he deal with it?”

Your voice came in a whisper, hesitation evidently clear.

Dick was expecting it, but his heart still sank. He knew how everyone acted when Jason was brought up in conversation- he was guilty of reacting as well. He also knew how you were smart enough to avoid that topic.

It had been years. They should all have moved on, because Dick knew that they were also hurting you.

“He came to me as well.” Dick recalled Jason’s hesitant voice over the phone, never directly saying what was wrong, just rambling about things other than what was really going on in his head.

“Then he gradually called less and less when he learned how to deal with it himself.”

The day Dick noticed it, he was happy for Jason, but a small part of him was saddened that his little brother no longer needed him.

“I’ll have to look for that cognitive therapy, then. Thank you for calling, Dick. Talking to you helped.”

Did it really? He noticed your voice had changed again. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone on about Jason like that.

“No problem, kid. Call me if you need to talk, okay?”

The familiar beep left him isolated with his thoughts, wondering if you would trail in Jason's footsteps.

When will the day come when you eventually stop calling altogether?

***

He felt indebted to his city- the city he loved. The city he hated. The city that robbed him of his childhood.

He felt indebted to his family- the family he would give up everything for, the family he couldn’t stop hurting.

And he was sorry. God, he was sorry.

Sorry for everything he’s said and done- or didn’t do. But he still couldn’t stop. Because he didn’t know how.

Yet, no matter how much he claimed to love his family, the problem with Bruce Wayne was that he always expected them to be the people he wanted them to be.

Never like himself, though. No, he would never want them to turn out like him.

“That’s an order. Stay-”

The silence that followed the click in his ear represented the first time you had ever disobeyed a direct order.

It was a little late on your side. Dick and Jason had begun to disobey him within their first six months in uniform. But you had always been obedient- which made it easier for Bruce to trust you in the field.

This first time came as an unexpected and unwelcome surprise. And Bruce was…

Disappointed.

He grit his teeth when he saw you on the ground with the warehouse burning behind you. If he had just been a few seconds late, would you be in the fire, too?

“I almost had him.”

Bruce didn’t miss the wince of pain as you got up to your feet.

He had heard those exact words before countless times from J- no.

Bruce shoved that thought away.

“He would have gotten away, and we wouldn’t have known who it was that did this,” you argued, brows drawn together in a frown, mouth downturned. Your respiratory rate was high, and you were having trouble breathing.

When did you grow so tall? So confident?

Bruce silently pointed to the active security camera he noticed the minute he arrived and saw your expression fall- only for a second.

“I still think I made the right decision,” you insisted.

“You disobeyed a direct order.” He hated his own voice. The way he spoke sounded too militant.

“I acted how I saw fit,” you continued, “You always say to follow my instincts-”

“Not if your instincts contradict my orders.” He regretted his words the moment they left his mouth. He thought he had changed. But no, Bruce was still a dictator.

“Wow. Just- wow.”

He could see the little twitches of annoyance within the disbelief on your face. He understood it completely.

You were walking away, clutching onto your side and weakly limping to your bike, adamant on not seeking his help.

He hated seeing you injured, in pain. It was his fault. If only he was faster, he could have stopped Red Hood from beating you up. If only he predicted it sooner, if only-

“I’ll be heading back now.”

He missed what you had said before that.

“Robin,” Bruce forced out, “Have Alfred check your injuries.”

He should have been there.

When you drove away, he lingered at the crime scene.

Bruce flipped a switch in his helmet, and his lense changed. Non-organic material lighted up bright white. He noticed a fractured piece of shrapnel lying on the ground, less than a centimeter long.

He picked it up and placed it into a test tube from his belt. Switching his view to normal, he saw that it was red, maybe made from fiberglass. He could only deduce that it was a piece of Red Hood’s helmet.

Despite Bruce’s frustrations at you for disobeying him, he felt a swell of pride. You probably landed a hit hard enough to crack the helmet just a little bit that you yourself probably didn’t even realise it.

He shone a UV light on it. A small portion of it glowed.

Bruce had always been numb when he played investigator so that he would remain impartial and objective. That was true justice.

But when he pocketed the evidence and sped to the Batmobile, he felt something he had never felt before.

Against all logic and rationality, he found himself dreading to uncover who the blood belonged to.

***

Bruce never drank his sorrows away. It was dangerous, too easy to develop an addiction to. He could have easily drowned in alcohol at any given chance, like when he thought of his parents, or when he thought-no, knew- he wasn’t enough.

But no, he only restricted his drinking for leisurely activities. He was disciplined. It was the reason why he was who he was.

However, in that moment, staring at the results of the DNA analysis after hours of anxious waiting, he wished he allowed himself a drink.

Not because he was distraught, not because he was in grief- but because he just didn’t know what to feel.

It wasn’t numbness. It was just plain confusion, an internal tornado of emotions whirling inside him all at once.

Footsteps.

He tapped on a button once, immediately closing the window of the test results displayed on the screen.

Composing himself, he clicked on another pending case to pretend he wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown. It’s just another role.

“Master Bruce.”

Why was he still up at this hour?

“Yes, Alfred,” he turned to meet the butler’s tired eyes- just as tired as his own.

Tired because of him.

Alfred was always up because of him. Because Bruce was a disease, constantly burdening others, dragging them down, keeping them up at night.

“I made some sandwiches. They’re light. Please do eat them,” he set the tray on the cluttered desk, simply pushing aside the numerous stacks of papers.

“Go to bed, Alfred,” he told him. Alfred was too old to be up at this hour. And whose fault is that?

“In due time,” he responded calmly, “What of the blood results, if I may ask?”

“Inconclusive,” Bruce lied.

“I see.”

Suspicion shrouded Alfred’s voice.

“How are her injuries?” Bruce asked, the pain finally creeping in, seeping into his bones.

“I commend you for asking about your daughter’s injuries after only four whole hours of staring at the screen, Master Bruce. You would definitely win father of the year.”

“I was occupied,” he sighed, “Please.”

“Her injuries are only superficial,” Alfred said, “Surface contusions at most.”

He still hurt her.

“Thank you, Alfred. Now go to bed.”

“It was only a little more than two decades ago when I was telling you the same,” he grumbled away.

Bruce made sure Alfred was gone before pulling up the results on the screen again, the glaring ‘MATCH’ sign staring angrily back at him as if it were shouting at Bruce, yelling in rage.

And Bruce understood completely. He had failed Jason Todd. He had betrayed him. And now he was back, vengeful, and full of resentment.

But that didn’t matter to Bruce.

Because despite it all, his son was alive.

In the end, that was all that mattered.

***

What did my son do to my daughter?

Bruce watched in horror as you lay unconscious on the hospital bed, hooked to the IV bag. He couldn’t stop staring at the bruises littering your neck.

Bruises that were far too small and evenly shaped to be the effect of a mere throttling.

He knew how the people close to him viewed him. He knew they thought he was strong, unforgiving, cold, emotionless. Especially when they put him side by side with Clark.

But he forced himself to be those things, because if he didn’t, he would have broken down years ago.

He was used to it. The pain. The darkness.

But this time, he felt like he was being crushed.

He felt like he was hanging on by a thread- no. A delicate strand of thin, brittle hair.

“It’s okay, doctor,” you had said, “I know what you’re going to ask me. No, my genitalia does not hurt. He didn’t do anything to me.”

He felt a wave of relief crash over him.

Jason wasn’t that far gone, then.

But as Bruce looked at your neck again, he still couldn’t help but feel nausea crawling into his core.

He still touched her.

Jim left after his questioning, and you drifted to sleep. He went over to you and looked down at your face, taking everything in.

Since when did you look so mature? When did you get so beautiful?

He couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. Even in sleep you had your eyebrows tugged down, as if you were angry that you had to go to bed. He didn’t know why he never saw that small part of you that shouted rebellion despite you almost always following his orders.

He realised that when he watched you sleep, you looked a bit like- no. Don’t ever compare the two.

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to your forehead, trying to convey all of his feelings to you.

He was sorry. So god damned sorry for dragging you into this, for hurting you, for pulling you down to the depths with him.

Hoping you didn’t feel the teardrop that fell to your forehead, he quickly wiped it away before leaving for his press statement.

***

“Master Bruce, please!”

Another crash.

Alfred’s plea snapped him out of his blinding fury, his crushing pain.

He was standing at the hallway near the Manor entrance, glass and broken wood shattered at his feet, feeling the walls closing in and narrowing as Alfred looked at him in alarm.

“I-I’m sorry, Alfred. I-” he stammered, feeling like the small, helpless boy who watched his parents die before him.

He remembered the time when he was little, only a couple of months after the tragedy. He had done the exact same thing, taking out his anger and anguish by destroying things, triggered by something he had long forgotten about.

At that time, Alfred had held him closely in his arms as he stained the butler’s suit with his snot and tears. Again, a burden to the man who raised him.

This time, he refused the old man’s offer of comfort, walking past to descend to the cold darkness of the cave he was so familiar with.

Bruce didn’t usually drink his sorrows away, but this time, he did.

***

Dick wasn’t a good person. He was far from it.

Case in example, it was the first time he saw you after your kidnapping.

He meant to come sooner, he really did. But he was just so busy in Bludhaven, he couldn’t spare any time to rush over the moment he heard his sister was hurt. He tried to justify it in his head by thinking that you were probably handling it fine.

But he was just trying to make himself feel better.

What a great brother he was.

“So, why are you obsessing over violent crimes?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from breaking.

Desensitization was one thing when you worked in that field, but obsession was a whole other problem. And he didn’t want to see his sister walk down that path.

“A lunatic just kidnapped me a couple weeks ago, Dick, maybe this is my coping mechanism,” you huffed, giving him your signature eye roll.

A lot of things start with just a coping mechanism, kid.

Dick knew it about it all too well. The people he brought in on an almost daily basis, high as kites. The accident last week on the highway at three in the morning, two innocent lives taken because of a drunk man who had started drinking three years ago to cope with his mother’s loss.

The man downstairs in the cold cave, who was just a little boy when his parents died, now living with the trauma while going out night after night to beat up criminals, sleeping only three hours a day at most.

“I don’t want your pity, Dick,” you huffed, “I’m fine.”

Yeah, you were. And that was what worried Dick the most.

“I know you are,” he tried to smile, “Which is why I don’t think this is your coping mechanism.”

You talked to Dick about Red Hood, sharing your concerns about him. This is what made you, you. Opening up to him, offering your thoughts and feelings. It was something he never had with Bruce or Jason. The both of them were similar in that sense.

“He won’t tell me either,” Dick huffed, “It’s always been like that with him. No matter how hard I try to get closer to him, sometimes it feels like he’s getting further away.”

It was the same with Jason as well. Did everyone he cared about just end up running away from him?

“I can relate to that,” you sighed.

“But I have a feeling that he will tell you eventually,” Dick tried to comfort you, “It seems too important not to.”

Dick knew better. Bruce had always excluded information from him, whether it was important or not.

“And,” Dick hurriedly tried to change the subject, “I heard from Alfred that you’re not talking to Bruce. May I ask why?”

“So that’s why you’re here,” you eyed him suspiciously. . “I came to check up on you,” he stated, “I’m sorry I couldn’t come here right after, but my little sister did just get kidnapped.”

When are you going to stop putting your guard up around me, kid?

“I told you, I’m fine,” you insisted.

“Then you’re fine enough to tell me why you haven’t been talking to Bruce,” Dick pushed, “I won’t judge. I’ve had my fair share of cold shoulders and fights with him too. I know first hand how frustrating he can be. So come on, tell.”

He saw you hesitate for just a moment, before conceding.

“We fought,” you began, “It was when I got back from the hospital. He wouldn’t tell me who Red Hood was. And he- he called me ‘Jason’.”

Ah, fucking hell, Bruce.

“Jesus,” he whispered, “What did he say exactly?”

“‘Back down, Jason’,” your voice cracked.

Dick saw the way Bruce spiraled after Jason’s death, and he would never tell you this, but deep down he was against Bruce adopting you so soon after. He thought that Bruce was using you to fill up the hole he too felt with Jason’s absence.

You were so like him, yet so different. Still, Bruce must have been really distracted if he could slip as badly as he did.

Dick would ask later.

“Now that’s something I haven’t heard in years,” Dick chuckled humorlessly.

Jason arguing with Bruce about using excessive force. Jason sneaking out to go for patrols whenever he was grounded. Hell, even Jason stealing whiskey from the cabinet at the age of fifteen.

He could still remember it so clearly. Jason with his dark hair poking into his eyes that were full of fury, cheeks puffed up and red as he pouted angrily at Bruce for making him stay at the Manor on nights Bruce insisted on going alone.

Dick tried to shove the past away. He knew he was making you even sadder.

“Has Bruce made any attempts to reconcile?” Dick remembered the conversation he was having with you.

“Yeah, but I’m still mad at him,” you pouted.

“And you have every right to be,” Dick nodded, “But Bruce, well, you know Bruce. He keeps these things to himself, but obviously he’s still hurting.”

You have know idea how much he’s hurting, Little Wing.

You avoided Dick’s eyes, looking down at your fumbling thumbs as the room became silent.

“I’m seeing someone,” you changed the subject.

“You are?”

Interesting.

“Yeah,” you blushed, “It’s still very new, and we’re not official yet or anything. But we’re definitely testing the waters.”

“That’s great,” Dick grinned, “Who is he? Tell me the deets. Spill the tea.”

He sort of loved gossip. It wasn’t a secret.

“I met him in the library a while back,” you excitedly said, “We exchanged numbers. Started texting, meeting up from time to time. He’s really cute.”

Ah, young love. What Dick would give to be at that age again.

“I bet he is,” Dick teased.

“What’s with that face?” you laughed, “He is! He’s slightly older, and he’s got this sexy bad boy look, you know?”

“I thought you liked the nerdy types?” Dick responded. He saw a picture of you and your classmates on your Instagram. Typical prep school kids.

“I never had a type, you ass!” . “You’re right. I thought you were completely uninterested in boys,” he wondered out loud, “Is he nice, at least?”

“Yeah he is,” you smiled to yourself, “He didn’t know I was Wayne until 2 weeks ago. Before that, we were mainly texting. Now we’re meeting up more. I feel like I can be myself with him. I don’t know, there’s just something about him that makes me trust him.”

So you still have some of your walls up with me, but you trust a stranger? Who is this guy?

“I’m not going to tell him anything!” you quickly added, “I’m not stupid. I know I shouldn’t trust someone I just met. It’s not about the confidential stuff. It’s the little things like how I feel, and my problems, and just- stuff, you know?”

The thought didn’t even cross his mind. Dick trusted you enough with their secret, just as how Bruce did.

“I get it,” Dick tried to rationalise, “You don’t know what it is about the person, but you feel like the two of you just click, am I right?”

It had been like that with Barbara. It had been like that with Kory.

Now Dick was alone, and deep down he knew that they saw him as how he truly was. Selfish.

“Exactly,” you smiled, “Been with anyone like that before?”

“One or two,” he brushed it off, “People like that- whom you just click with- they’re hard to come by. You should see where this leads. Who knows, maybe he’s one of those that would stick around, huh?”

What he would give to have at least one person who would stick with him.

After he met with Gordon, Dick went to the cave to see Bruce who was, of course, facing the computers.

“I know what you’re going to say,” his father’s voice echoed without even turning to look at him.

“Then you know how much you’ve hurt her?” he crossed his arms.

Bruce did turn around to face him, and Dick suddenly felt a tightness in his chest.

He knew that Bruce hardly ever slept, but this was different. He looked disheveled, his complexion pale, his eyes more bloodshot and the dark circles even more prominent.

Alfred did say how badly Bruce took the kidnapping, finding him passed out on the cave floor with an empty bottle of scotch in his hand, but he thought that Bruce would have gotten himself together by now. It was surprising to see him that way, and Dick felt… Uncomfortable.

Something was wrong, and it wasn’t just the kidnapping, nor his fight with you.

“You found out something,” Dick narrowed his eyes, “Something important. What is it?”

He caught a flash of guilt in Bruce’s eyes. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

“Bruce,” Dick groaned, “This is why you keep on hurting her.”

Hurting us.

“I’m protecting everyone.”

“You can’t use that excuse with me anymore,” he sighed, “I don’t need your protection. So tell me.”

“No.”

That was his final word, and he knew that Bruce would never budge.

“Fine,” he let out a breath, “Did you know that she’s seeing someone?”

Bruce frowned.

Which made Dick frown. Since when did Bruce miss things? What the fuck was going on with him?

“Name?”

“Dunno. Didn’t ask. And no, don’t you dare,” Dick pointed an accusatory finger at him, “Do not do a background check on him. She deserves privacy. Hell, don’t even bring it up. You have no right to go poking into her relationships.”

Dick was being defensive, but that was because he was trying to convince himself as well, which was why he didn’t ask you for a name. He knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.

“I wasn’t going to,” Bruce reassured, “She… She deserves a life. A normal life. Not this- not-”

Dick knew then he had to leave, because Bruce’s voice breaking meant he was far from okay, and he knew that Bruce hated to show his vulnerability to anyone.

“Bruce,” Dick said, this time softly, “You’re not alone, you know. I’ve been with you since the beginning, and I’m still with you now.”

And with that, Bruce turned his back towards him again, silently going back to his goddamned computers.

“He’s been that way ever since the kidnapping,” Alfred informed him when he walked up to the manor.

“I don’t think it’s just the kidnapping, Alf,” he frowned at the butler, “There’s something more to it. Did he figure out who Red Hood is?”

“Perhaps,” Alfred pursed his lips, “But he refuses to tell me.”

“That means we know him personally,” Dick theorised, “Who the hell could it be that he’s so adamant on keeping it a secret?”

“I do not know Master Dick, but it can’t be anyone good if he’s got Master Bruce drinking during the day.”

***

Bruce knew that he was wrong to call you by his dead son’s name.

But his dead son was supposed to stay dead instead of haunting him with that glaring red bat across his chest, and having that thought in his head all the time, he slipped up.

He prided himself with his contingency plans and detective skills and preparations, but no amount of time could ever prepare him for when he found out his dead son had sexually assaulted his daughter.

You seemed to have dealt with it surprisingly well, exceeding his expectations. In fact, Bruce thought it was a bit odd that you weren’t as affected by it.

And then he saw it.

He saw what he thought was the internalized anger you felt finally bursting through the seams of your tightly lidded emotions.

And he wasn’t prepared for it.

Bruce didn’t think you had it in you, or else he would never have made you Robin.

But there you were on the ground, beating a man beyond recognition.

He couldn’t dread this moment because he never saw it coming. Not from you. Never from you.

He hurriedly ripped you off the man, flinging you away with force.

Pulse was present, but weak. Flail chest. It took him only a few seconds to observe the damage you did to the man’s face. It didn’t look good.

“Stay back,” he growled at you when you came close.

He couldn’t look at you. He didn’t want to.

“I-I didn’t mean to,” he heard you whisper.

“Call an ambulance,” he ordered.

There was no other choice. He had to take the fall for you.

“NOW!” he snarled at you again. In the background, you were on the phone, but Bruce’s thoughts were elsewhere, calculating what needs to be done.

You moved-

“Leave. I’ll deal with this.” You needed to go. You couldn’t be here when the ambulance and police arrived.

“Batman-”

“I said leave,” he snapped. He couldn’t even hear your voice.

He waited for the ambulance to come before leaving, making sure they saw him escape. Making sure he would be the one the media would attack.

And while he drove back to the Cave, he decided to give his son a call.

“Bruce?”

“Dick,” he sighed. He knew he had always been unfair to his eldest, giving him so much pressure to perform, pushing him to be his best- and ultimately away. He knew that he never showed it, but he was proud of Dick. He always had been from the very beginning.

“What’s wrong?”

It wasn’t a surprise that Dick picked up immediately that something was wrong. If it wasn’t for the fact that calling him out of the blue was what gave it away, Bruce himself trained Dick.

“She- she crossed the line tonight,” he tried to explain, “Jerome Miller. She attacked him. The damage she’s done to him is irreversible. I suspect he will be in a vegetative state for the rest of his life.”

“Jesus,” Dick breathed from over the line, “Why didn’t you stop her?”

“I wasn’t there,” he grit. He thought he could trust you.

But deep down Bruce knew that it was all his fault after all. Who was he to act so righteous when he was the reason your parents died?

“I don’t know if she’ll talk to me, Bruce,” Dick sighed, “Not about something like this. She’s probably beating herself up over this already.”

“As she should.”

“Bruce.”

“Please,” Bruce asked, “I’m worried. She isn’t herself and I can’t blame her for it, but the chances of her talking to you are much higher than if I were to try.”

“I’ll try,” Dick agreed.

“Report to me after.”

“Bruce, we’ve talked about this,” Dick grumbled, “I am under no obligation to report to you. I’m doing this for her. Not you.”

He was trying not to go back to the man he was before, but sometimes he couldn’t help it.

They’re your children, not your soldiers.

He had to remind himself time and time again. It was easier to be just a father to you as compared to Dick and Jason, yet even then he made slips.

“I know,” he apologised. “Thank you.”

Click.

And then Bruce was alone again.

***

Bruce watched you from the corner of his eye when you came back. He noticed that you had put more effort into dressing up when you left the house that day.

There was a slight bounce to your step and a small smile that played on your lips.

Dick was right after all. There was someone you were seeing.

But no, he couldn’t look into it. In fact, it would be hypocritical of him if he did. Dick had many girlfriends and flings, and Bruce didn’t want to know about any of them. Mainly because Dick was his first, and the thought of a boy he raised maturing and having relationships made him feel confused about parenthood.

Not that many of them lasted too long anyway.

Jason was a little different. While Dick had girls lining up after him all the time, Jason was much more subtle about the girls he liked, and that made Bruce more curious- but not enough to investigate.

He thought about when Barbara had caught Jason looking at her, making him turn red. He wondered if Jason would like you.

A tight squeeze in his chest.

He didn’t let his mind linger there.

Bruce felt obligated to protect you, which tempted him to investigate the boy you were seeing. It could be a trap, it could be someone using you for fame and money, or something even more sinister. Hell, it could be Jason himself after that stunt he pulled off.

But there was no evidence, and Bruce wanted to be a father to you this time instead of Batman the mentor. So Bruce would have to trust you on this one.

***

There was something holding Bruce back from telling everyone the truth about Jason.

And because he is who he is, Bruce knew what it was.

Guilt. He blamed himself for what had happened, and telling others about it meant owning up to his mistakes. Bruce never ran away from his fears and feelings despite what others might think. On the contrary, he held to them very strongly, using them as a motivation to fight head on.

This time, though, he felt more self destructive- the worst he had ever felt since he carried Jason’s corpse from the rubble- and so he tried to delay the inevitable.

But time was running out. He had enough time to wallow in self pity. It was time to pull himself together, and the first step began with Alfred.

The Cave was colder than usual that night, air thin and darker despite the illumination he had provided. Bruce was slumped in his usual wheeled chair, cowl resting on the desk after patrol, the weight of his suit almost crushing him in his weakened mental state.

“Alfred,” Bruce sighed, “Please, take a seat. I have something to tell you.”

“I assume this is about the identity of one criminal who has been terrorizing your daughter?” Alfred retorted, sitting down anyway.

“Yes,” Bruce nodded, “This… This won’t be easy, Alfred. I suggest you prepare for the worst.”

“And the worst being..?”

Bruce wheeled himself closer to the butler, leaning forward. “It’s Jason.”

Alfred merely blinked. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid my ears have caught up to my age. I must have misheard you, because for a moment, I thought you said that Red Hood is Jason.”

“You didn’t mishear me, Alfred. It’s him.”

Bruce saw the confusion in Alfred’s eyes, the frantic search for reason. “Our Jason? Jason Todd?”

“Yes, Alfred.”

And then, Bruce felt it. The pain he had been suffering with for weeks spreading to the man who raised him. Alfred clutched his chest with one hand, the other clenching tightly over the armrest of his chair, his breathing quickened.

“Impossible,” he whispered, “Jason died. How?”

“There was an event regarding The League and Superboy punching reality. I won’t get into details, but I suspect that was what caused the initial resurrection. The restoration, however. We know of someone who has been continuously restored time and time again.”

“Ra’s Al Ghul,” Alfred concluded, “But why? Why on Earth would he restore Jason?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce frowned, “But it is an almost perfect revenge plan. I would like to entertain the idea that he has brainwashed Jason into thinking we are the enemy, but I can’t put it past him to develop a hatred for me. I… betrayed him.”

“Master Bruce, this is not your fault,” Alfred rose to his feet, “If it is indeed Jason, we can still help. I have faith in the boy.”

“Me too, Alfred. Me too.”

Bruce didn’t miss the sob that echoed faintly through the cave when Alfred ascended back up.

***

As if in slow motion, he saw every change of emotion on Dick’s face. The way he blinked once in confusion, the surprise approaching as he widened his eyes, and then his eyebrows stitching together in a deep frown, his lips downturning and nose flaring in anger.

Bruce saw the punch coming, but he did not do anything to counter it. Gladly, he took the right hook Dick gave him, appreciating the sting that radiated from his cheekbone to his jaw.

“How long have you known?” his son shook in anger.

“Dick-”

“HOW LONG, BRUCE?!” Dick roared, fists clenched, voice echoing in the cave.

“Since the night he blew up the warehouse,” Bruce replied.

“Jesus, fuck,” Dick ran his fingers through his hair, “Jesus, Bruce. That was over a month ago.”

“I know.”

“We-” he choked on his words, “We deserved to know.”

“I know.”

“So why the fuck didn’t you say anything?!” he slammed his fists on the desk. Bruce caught a few drops of tears that fell to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce apologised, and meant it. But he just couldn’t bring himself to say anything more.

“You’re sorry?” Dick looked at him with eyes far too cold than he knew, “He was my brother, Bruce. He told me things he never told anyone else. We shared secrets and jokes. We went to the same diner once a week to catch up. He asked for my help and I asked for his. And then he died. Just like that, because you couldn’t keep him on a leash. And now he’s back, and you knew it was him, and you’re just sorry?”

Dick’s eyes were wet and red, and filled with contempt. Bruce couldn’t blame him. He hated himself, too.

“Does she know?” he whispered, “Does she know that the man who attacked her is your son, and is my brother?”

Like always, he pushed the pain away efficiently, logically, objectively.

“Yes,” he confirmed, “I told her this afternoon.”

“And she’s not angry?”

“If she was, she did not show it,” Bruce described, “In fact, she looked… Worried.”

“Of fucking course she would be worried,” he snarled, “She’s worried that she’s going to be irrelevant to you now the dead Robin is back.”

“She’s not,” Bruce growled at that, “She’s not his replacement. She never was.”

“Does she know that, Bruce?” Dick snickered, “Did you finally get over yourself and tell her that? Because the last fucking time I spoke to her, you called her Jason.”

Bruce didn’t know how to respond to that. He was good at smiling at the cameras and making speeches and charming an audience, but he was never good with words, real words that described his true feelings to the ones he cared for the most.

“I’m sorry,” he simply said, now numb to everything throughout years and years of practice. “I promise, I will bring him back. Will you help me?”

“What can I do that you can’t?” Dick scoffed.

“You knew him, Dick,” Bruce said, “You knew him in ways I never did. I can predict his movements, but to accurately guess what his motivations are- you knew him better than I did.”

“Fine,” Dick conceded, “But I’m not forgiving you for this, Bruce. I swear, you’re going to pay for all the secrets you’ve kept from us, be it by my hand or someone else’s.”

***

“Did you know that your daughter went out last night to see a boy while we were patrolling?” Dick brought up.

He was looking at Bruce’s back, as he always was.

Bruce was on the computers, going through hours upon hours of security footage and traffic cams for Red Hood- for Jason.

It was difficult for him to put the two together. Jason had always been his little brother. Young, naive, inexperienced. And now that same person was the leader of the underground.

It was definitely difficult.

“Alfred mentioned she went out, but I didn’t know it was to meet a boy,” Bruce replied without glancing his way.

“Well, she lied to me about it at first,” Dick sank in a chair, looking at his nails. “Got pretty defensive when I brought it up. Even tried to deflect by using Jason against me.”

Dick knew you meant to hurt him with your words, and it worked.

He was definitely surprised that you would stoop that low because he always saw you as a sweet, kind girl.

People change. That’s what happens when you stick with Batman.

But Dick didn’t expect you to change so fast.

“She… used Jason against you?”

Bruce finally turned towards him, the ever constant frown a little bit deeper that moment.

“Yeah,” Dick straightened, “It was the first time she’s ever spoken to me that way.”

“What did she say exactly?”

“That I was distracting myself by using humor as a coping mechanism, and that I should come to terms with the fact that it was my brother who kidnapped and sexually assaulted her,” he repeated bitterly.

“What did you say to her that she responded that way?” Bruce asked.

“I was just making fun of her boyfriend,” Dick shrugged, “Why? Do you think she’s hiding something?”

At first, Dick thought that you were genuinely angry at the both of them because you were right- Jason did kidnap you. Jason did do those things to you. And Jason was supposed to be under both Bruce and Dick’s responsibility.

Dick didn’t blame you for it, because he would have probably been angry if the situation was reversed.

It was one of the mistakes he always made as Robin when Bruce was teaching him how to accurately deduce by reading people. Never assume that someone’s motivations would be the same as your own.

“She hid that she has… someone from me. There must be a reason why.”

“Or she knows how you are and would rather not have your nose in her business, Bruce. She did find out about that tracker you put in her necklace. How did she even react to it?”

Bruce had done the same with both Dick and Jason while they were Robin, though it didn’t come disguised as a pretty, shiny piece of metal.

On the contrary, during Dick’s Robin days, Bruce had hid it behind his third molar while he was unconscious. He only found out after a year, when he was held hostage by a mercenary who wanted to use him to lure Batman. Said mercenary had detected the tracking device and pulled it out along with the tooth.

It made him increasingly more hostile towards Batman and his never ending need for control, but at least it saved him a trip to the dentist.

From what Dick knew, Jason died with his tracker on him.

Bruce had said that it was all done in the name of safety.

But would you tell Jason the same thing now?

“I apologised and never replaced the one Red Hood damaged. I thought that would have been sufficient for her to trust me again.”

Dick let out a bark of laughter at that, but it was void of any humor. “Only you would think that not replacing her damn tracker would make her trust you. No wonder she hasn’t told you anything.”

It was probably best not to mention that you were now also sexually active.

“Do you think she’s hiding something important?” Bruce asked.

“Are you actually asking for my opinion?” Dick smirked, “No, but it’s too soon to tell, anyway. Relax, Bruce. It’s like you forgot what it was like to be young and in love.”

That was obviously a joke. Bruce grew out of his childhood the moment he saw his parents getting killed in that alley.

As for being in love, did Bruce ever allow himself that?

***

“What did you say she called herself?” Nightwing asked softly.

The poor girl was scared out of her mind to the point where Dick found it difficult to extract important information from her ramblings.

Well, that’s what happens when someone makes you kill a person.

It was difficult, so difficult, to face the fact that it was Jason behind all of that.

“I t-think, V,” the witness- Elena- stuttered. “She with him. But try to stop him.”

Behind him, he felt Batman pause. He was walking around the club and analysing evidence while listening to the conversation.

“She tried to stop him? Him as in Red Hood?” Dick frowned.

“Yes,” Elena looked down and rubbed her arms.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but,” Dick tried, “You told me they were partners.”

“Yes, but she try to stop him,” she repeated, “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Dick offered a smile, “Thank you very much. You’ve been a huge help.”

“Am I going to prison?” she looked at him with big, wet eyes.

“We’ll make sure you won’t,” Dick assured, “You’ll get the best defense team in Gotham.”

“You can do that?” she asked, hope in her voice.

“It’s the least we could do,” Dick answered, a sad smile playing on his lips.

He’s our responsibility.

“Thank you,” she gave a watery laugh, “Even prison better than with him, I want to be free.”

Dick heard footsteps approaching. As he turned around, Gordon entered the crime scene, followed by his team.

“Of course you’re here first,” he sighed at Batman.

“Gordon.”

“You might have to speak to the police again, okay?” Dick told Elena who was suddenly nervous again by the presence of so many people. “I’ll make sure they know you’re innocent. Gordon is the only one you can trust, okay?”

She nodded, her gaze turning downwards.

“Gordon,” he approached the aging man. He was used to talking with Gordon in Batman’s stead, even when he was Robin, and remembered feeling proud of himself whenever he finished speaking to Gordon regarding cases without Batman having to add anything.

“Nightwing,” he blinked, “It’s been a while.”

“Desperate times calls for desperate backups,” he grinned, “Anyway, the girl. She’s a victim of Victor Ibenescu’s human trafficking trade. Romanian, only thirteen when she was kidnapped. She was forced to shoot Victor by Red Hood.”

“This Red Hood likes his poetic justice,” Gordon snickered.

“It’s still first degree murder, or at least, that’s how the law would make it seem,” Dick reminded him, “But I assure you she’s innocent. Red Hood threatened to kill and rape her if she didn’t shoot.”

That was a lie, on both his part and Elena’s. Judging by the way she averted her eyes and touched her own arm, Dick could tell that she wasn’t telling the whole truth about being threatened by Red Hood- but he also knew that he couldn’t expose her and get into more trouble.

He wanted to let out a tired sigh, but that would give him away in front of Gordon and the other officers. He still needed to maintain his air of hopefulness, and he couldn’t seem like he was troubled by his thoughts.

Time to meet Bruce back at the cave and watch the surveillance footage.

***

“He’s got a partner now,” Dick voiced out his findings, “Since when did Red Hood partner up?”

Bruce’s frown was deep as he stared at the screen.

Dick pursed his lips. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Whether this is Red Hood or Jason?” Bruce hummed, “This definitely does not seem like anything Red Hood would do. He’s always tried to separate himself from others because it furthers his authoritarian agenda. He does not get friendly with people because people are disposable to him.”

“So you think this is Jason, then?” Dick concluded, “Well, Jason never had much of a problem working with others in the past, and he made some friends. He wasn’t the type to be hostile to people.”

“He did have trust issues,” Bruce pointed out, “At the very beginning.”

“Yes, and he kept a lot of things to himself,” Dick agreed, “But he did have friends.”

“Special friends,” Bruce added, “Friends who gained his respect and trust. So the question is- who is this girl and how did she manage to gain his trust?”

“Hey, play it back again,” Dick said, “Those moves.”

Bruce played the security tape, showing the mysterious girl and Red Hood taking down Victor’s men.

“Arnis,” Bruce pointed out.

“It’s a little different.”

“She has incorporated silat in as well. Low stance,” Bruce observed. “She’s skilled, but not polished. It could be anyone.”

There was something familiar about the girl that Dick couldn’t pinpoint. Dick usually had strong intuition- a gut feeling that enabled him to know which facts to focus on during an investigation, or a strong ability to see through people.

But the problem was that it wasn’t solid proof or evidence, something Batman heavily focused on. It was a gut feeling that told him he knew who the girl was.

“Do you think it’s-” he broke off without completing his sentence. There was nothing to back his claims.

“She has no reason or motive to work with Jason,” Bruce shot the idea down, “He’s hurt her. And… She wouldn’t betray me like that.”

“She’s been keeping secrets, Bruce,” Dick reminded, hating the fact that this time it was him who was suspicious.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Because he never would have thought that Jason was capable of torture and murder, either.

Why didn’t he come to me?

“As you clearly pointed out prior to this,” Bruce grit, “She has her reasons as to why she’s keeping secrets. And it is most probably because of me. All of you kept secrets. But this time, I’d like to let her keep hers.”

It was sweet, seeing Bruce that way.

“Is it guilt?” Dick asked.

“It’s repentance.”

Dick hated playing the bad guy.

Because he wasn’t supposed to be. He was the one people looked up to for inspiration, he was the light to Batman’s darkness, he was the smiles and charms and laughter.

He wasn’t the one who would accuse his little sister of fraternizing with the- was Jason the enemy?

Shit. Jason had messed with his senses. Dick’s head was chaotic, his emotions causing him to tense up.

Was he wrong? Was he just like Bruce? Was he jumping to conclusions just because Alfred told him you were out? Should he investigate this Carter you said you were with?

No. I’m not Bruce.

And now, you were looking at him with angry eyes, betrayed and appalled by his accusation.

*** Large.

That was the first thing that came to Dick’s mind when he saw his little brother.

The last time Dick saw him, he was much shorter, and definitely not as bulky.

And the last time Dick saw Jason, he was giving him a hug goodbye, complaining that Dick had messed up his hair.

And now, Jason was aiming a gun at him.

The gunshot didn’t hurt nearly as much as the thought that Jason had indeed shot him. Did Jason hate him that much?

You’re almost as guilty as he is, Jason’s voice echoed in his head.

“Bruce,” he gasped in the comms, “I’m down. They got away.”

“I heard a gunshot,” the deep voice in his ear spoke.

“Yeah, Jason shot my leg,” Dick winced, “Didn’t hit bone but I think it nicked my artery.”

“There are children here,” Batman said, “I was right. He’s sabotaging the Powers’. Gordon should be here soon. You control your bleeding.”

Dick nodded to himself and took a deep breath before plunging his finger into the gunshot wound to keep himself from bleeding out.

***

“...suspects that the crime lord only known as Red Hood and an unidentified female were behind the home invasion. Maria and Joseph Powers were left in a gruesome state according to reports, but their only child Carrie Powers was unharmed. The authorities are not sure what Red Hood’s motive was, but more will be elaborated during Commissioner Gordon’s public address later this afternoon...”

Dick heard you close the door.

“You didn’t come home last night,” he lowered the volume of the television.

“Uh, yeah,” you answered.

Dick looked over at you. You seemed tired, eyes swollen and red from crying, wearing an oversized t-shirt that he didn’t recognize.

“I was at-”

“Carter’s?” he finished your sentence for you.

“Yeah,” you nodded, sitting down next to him on the sofa.

Dick frowned to himself. Your arms were crossed, you were avoiding eye contact, your body was angled away from him.

“You heard about the Powers’?” he turned his gaze towards the television.

“I saw the news on the way here,” you monotoned.

You smelled like a different shampoo. It was familiar, but Dick couldn’t remember where he had smelled it before.

“So you know that-”

“Yes, Jason did it,” you said rigidly.

“Along with-”

“His partner.”

Ah, now he remembered the smell. Jason’s favorite shampoo. He used to make fun of him for choosing one that was called what it was called. He didn’t really care about it, Dick kept his hair soft and fluffy with multiple women’s hair products. He just liked to rile Jason up because he was so defensive about it.

And with that, Dick let out a long, disappointed sigh.

“Bruce is in the cave. I suggest that you think long and hard about what to tell him,” Dick offered you a soft smile, “But no matter what you choose to say, you’ll always be my sister, and I’ll always love you no matter what, okay?”

You gave him a look of shock, and then realised that he had figured it out.

“I’m sorry, Dick,” you lips trembled, your eyes started brimming with tears.

“No, kid. I’m sorry,” he replied, “Go.”

You nodded and left.

Despite being right all along, he didn’t feel any sense of achievement. Dick couldn’t help but partly blame himself. For being so absent, for being neglectful, for being a bad brother.

Dick wasn’t perfect, but like hell would he stop trying to be.

***

For years Bruce had tried to stop feeling guilty for being relieved whenever someone else takes care of a problem he couldn’t solve- especially when it involved murder.

Bruce had tried to take down the Powers for almost a decade, and everytime he got close, there was always another obstacle in the way. It was difficult to expose the rich and powerful without resorting to violence, without resorting to breaking his principles.

So Bruce was ready to stop himself from internally celebrating their deaths. This time, however, he wasn’t as pleased. Because this time, it was Jason who brutally murdered two people. Jason, who was supposed to be under his care and responsibility.

“Bruce?” he heard your timid, small voice from behind him. “I have to tell you something.”

And there it was.

Bruce turned around and looked straight at you, piercing your eyes with his own as he waited on your confession.

A minute passed.

“I’m V,” you struggled to speak, “I’ve been meeting up with Jason for a few months now. I didn’t know he was Red Hood until you told me. But when you did tell me, I chose to confront him and team up with him anyway.”

Bruce didn’t say anything.

“He- he’s not a bad person, Bruce,” you justified, “He’s just really hurt. He needs help.”

You were telling Bruce things he already knew.

“I- I fell in love with him,” you continued, “And I let my feelings cloud my judgement and betrayed your trust. At first I thought that he was onto something, that his… methods were better than yours. And I was angry that you kept secrets from me. But after last night- after what I saw- I couldn’t- I couldn’t stay.”

Bruce clenched his jaw.

He suspected it. Dick suspected it. But for your sake, the both of them chose to put their trust in you. He had tried so hard to change from his old ways. He learned his lesson with both Dick and Jason.

He didn’t want you to go through the same thing they did.

So, he chose to blindly trust you anyway, hoping that he wasn’t right.

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” you were sobbing now, “I’m so sorry. Please, say something.”

After another minute of watching you break down in front of him, Bruce finally spoke up.

“Hang up your colors. You’re no longer my Robin.”

[ilovebokutokoutaro]

Faded

Langa x reader

Warnings : self harm, mental abuse, physical abuse, crying, screaming, abandoning, depression, blood and angst and angst, not proofread.

Overview : Angst.

When your boyfriend, langa, left for japan, you knew you'd be lonely. They were your only family, you had no one except them, his father's death had hit you so hard you could kill yourself but you had to stay strong for langa. Living alone with no one by your side soon became a routine, the routine you had before you met langa, his family, they loved you.

Your father was straight up a drunkard and your mother, let's just say she opened legs for other men more than she opened her arms for you to hug or if she ever did.

You couldn't leave to stay with langa and his family, when your parents fought, resulting with you lying in your room after being hit by them, they needed to let their anger out and who was the best to blame except you? You were the reason they were both like this, they had said, hitting you over and over untill they calmed themselves down.

Your friends were worried for you, not only had langa left but also you were covered in new bruises and injuries almost every other day, barely eating or talking.

Langa called daily at first but soon his calls lied from once a week to once a month before you could comprehend anything that was happening. He would tell you everything about japan, his new friend reki, how he met so many people who skated so amazingly it was enchanting. Maybe the network wasn't so good on his side, that must be the reason he couldn't see your eyes hanging dull, your body looked like nothing but bones and skin, all the bruises, the injuries must be not so visible with a poor network.

He loved you afterall, he'd worry too much either way so it's okay. "Oh God reki is so awesome, you know y/n" and the rest you never heard your ears ringing in pain, as much as you wanted to listen to him, it hurt. The way he ignored all your well being and focused on some strangers he had met just a few months ago. it hurt so much but you couldn't speak it out, so you chose to end the call abruptly.

Sobbing into your knees, you sat on the bed feeling ever so lonely, you were starting to question everything and anything. Why were you even alive at this point, if only you died somehow. Soon it became a routine, crying till you passed out for an hour or so then getting up to go to school.

Your social media had died down to nothing, your life had died down to nothing. You were so tired of everything at this point, a murdered would stab you with a knife and you'd thank him for it. Soon langa's facetimes turned into voicecalls after your abrupt ending of the call.

You'd still receive calls from his mother but you barely picked them anymore, to say she was worried was an understatement. But langa was so busy, so happy with his life she couldn't get to tell him how worried she was for you.

you had started deeming yourself unworthy of living, of being with anyone, the mental and physical abuse from your parents only worsening to the point you couldn't breathe straight. You had switched to self harm as a coping method sooner than you had thought.

Not long before suicidal thoughts picked at your brain all the time, you were starting to fail classes, anyone could see how miserable you were, but no one ever cared enough to talk to you, or so you said, pushing everyone out.

It's been weeks since you last talked to langa, since you last went to school, choosing to burry yourself in your room instead. You parents were happier than ever, there abuse starting to get negligible, they weren't even near you anymore. your mother being pregnant with another child from your father. They were ecstatic, but you were not a part of it, the celebration stayed between them and their friends, tho your parents had started treating you better.

You found yourself falling deeper the more you struggled, your mental health declining to the point you were starting to loose all hopes in yourself. Your hate for others soon turned to hate for yourself and your self harm increased, many times your father would see your lying in you bedroom with bloody wrists, they were all worried for you, they stated, "go to therapy, y/n. We don't want to loose you" your mother sobbed to which you stayed there not moving. She hugged you, cried till you nodded your head. But therapy brought no good, just dragging you further down.

Langa had started getting worried sick and so was his mother, he had ranted about everything to his friends, whatever your friends told him. He wanted to talk to you even if once more, but you were fixed on isolating yourself more and more.

It was not long before you called langa, "I'm sorry, i was busy" you said, your voice was nothing more than emotionless and he begged you to tell him what was wrong but you stayed silent, his worry soon ending up with him screaming for you but you never answered. Not before he heard a loud crack and your parents screaming your name.

Langa stood frozen as he heard your parents cry and scream for you to wake up. He just wanted to pretend you were okay and alive. He was sitting in joe's restaurant, silently sipping the juice he was given as reki and shadow tried to distract him, suddenly his phone rang cutting off the awkward silence, and his mother told him to stay wherever he was and that she was coming to pick him up.

He just wanted to pretend you were okay, but it all came shattering down as his mother banged the door open, her face stained with tears as she fell on her knees sobbing and crying about how you had hanged yourself the day you called him, everyone remained silent, langa only sitting there not moving a muscle, oh God he wished he had stayed with you just a bit longer, called you a bit often, asked you if you were okay, he was selfish so selfish, if only he had noticed everything before maybe just maybe you would be talking to him rn.

Reki and shadow tried to comfort his mother who was now sobbing on the ground while langa just sat there frozen. He never thought a little lack of his concern could drive you to killing yourself. He wanted to blame someone and as much as he hated it he was the only right choice he found. Langa's phone pinged, a message from your mother's number. A page, stained with blood and tears, coming in his sight.

He saw your beautiful handwriting turn into nothing but a mess,

"I'm sorry, i love you i swear i do. But it was so hard living like this langa, there was no one, no one. I was so lonely so lonely, i thought cutting myself would do me any good, but it only drove me into more hunger for blood, and soon i wanted more than the stinging pain against my skin. I wanted to kill myself before i even knew it, you looked so happy when you called me that time. Stay smiling like that for me forever won't you? I'm sorry again langa i love you."

The letter was so abrupt as if you were in a hurry, as if you were dying. And he started sobbing before he knew it, surprising not only himself but everyone around him. His mother only teared up more she saw him crying. Cherry and joe desperately trying to calm the mother and son down.

It was a mess, the mess you left behind for them to handle, the mess you were going through all alone now cut short and stuck to everyone who loved you. Maybe if they all noticed sooner you'd have been here. Maybe just maybe if they told you they loved you sooner you would've been here.

..........

A/n: hey, so uhm idk i just wrote this in a flow. Just know if you, or someone you know is going through Something you can always seek help or go try to help someone, nothing you'd say to a depressed person would ever be meaningless, maybe your kindness saves a soul. Hope you all are doing fine hahhaha. Lot of angst for a day whew.

Anyway, thank you for reading🥺🥰🥰. Reblogs and likes are always appreciated 🥺☺️💜

[watery-lane]

Words into Smoke

The Night You Cared Sequel.

Pairing: Modern!Ivar Lothbrok x Reader

Summary: As a part of his therapy, Ivar writes letters to unwind and keep track of his mental health progress. He writes to his mom, he misses her. He writes to Sigurd, sometimes he regrets his departure. One night, he writes about her.

Warnings: Angst

Words: 3864

A/N: (3/5/20) I had this idea in my head that I simply could not let go. 

(10/4/21) P.S: Can’t promise I’m back, but I’m definitely turning to writing as a way of winding down. I hope you guys are alright.

Part I / Part II / Epilogue

Some nights, while the city sleeps, Ivar stays awake. Like an owl looking for a prey, the Ragnarsson remains seated upright at the edge of his bed, his now heavily tattooed chest exposed to the world through the panoramic window, heaving. Beating.

Some nights were amazing. He got his drivers license, and Freydis got him an adapted Bentley as a gift. He would spend the nights driving by himself down the empty streets of Kattegat, not worrying about speeding tickets or angry neighbours. 

Not so long ago, he learned his wife was finally carrying a child, her round belly reminding him that he had a legacy to keep, now that the Lothbrok dynasty seemed to be more fragmented than ever. After spending thousands of krone on in vitro fertilisation, the universe seemed to work in his favour. Their favour. If the gods were unwilling to bless them two, science would. These were the nights that were made for celebrations, champaign showers and water for the mother to be.

Some nights were alright. Ivar would come back after a long day of meetings and getting his ass kissed, to find Freydis immersed in her little personal projects. He would tell Erik to pick up some takeaway while he washed away the power and wrapped himself in mundane clothes. He would eat in silence, elbows propped on the counter and eyes on the horizon, watching the sun kiss the skyscrapers goodbye as he mindlessly put food in his mouth. Then he would take his new baby for a ride, to the bar he now owned with his brother Hvitserk. 

Ivar would go there, check the inventory and the register, ask the employees how everything was going and what could he do for them. Sometimes he would also find Hvitserk at the bar, practicing the cocktail skills he had been mastering since he took over your share of the bar. Ivar would simply walk past, not entirely avoiding making contact with his sibling but prefering to keep a healthy distance from the person that substituted you. He started visiting the local more often after you left, feeling the responsibility to continue what you started. He found peace in the simplicity of managing a bar: at the office, he was a tyrannic boss, voice always booming through the walls, keeping both employees and investors in check. At the bar, he was just the young lovestruck Ivar he once was. He understood then, why you wished to escape from it all. You are just a memory now, but sometimes he still feels you around, checking on the girls, checking on him.

Some nights were... Painful. Therapy had a big presence in his life. He no longer needed a cane thanks to nurse Hansen, his physical therapist. But on some days, the stress and the weather would simply take a toll on his legs, forcing him to carry around that metal stick that reminded him that he was, in fact, human. 

Before you left, Freydis figured out a question that would calm Ivar down and make him focus: “What would Dr. Nielsen tell you to do?”. That was how she got him to control himself and open up the last time he was onstage, the night she met you. They were just engaged back then. Oh, how quick did time pass. Ivar no longer organised events like that. He was too consumed by his two jobs. There were nights where Freydis would be on business trips, or out hanging out with friends until the next morning, nights where absences were felt more than presences. But he was coping now. Dr. Nielsen helped the youngest Lothbrok greatly since his great breakdown. 

Ivar had thought he physically felt his heart break the night he got down the stage to find you, only to figure out you were gone after most of the guests had left the hotel ballroom. He felt compelled to call you dozens of times to ask for an explanation. After his calls went unanswered, he decided to drive around town in search of you, not knowing where to start, not knowing where to ask, anger poisoning his brain and taking over his actions. That night he stayed at Loki’s after barging in to see if you were hiding there like “the coward you were”. He hated the fact that you could make him feel that weak. It felt like he was putty and Freydis was fire, hardening him the more he was exposed to her. You were water, turning him into a pliable being, at mercy of your actions.

For five days in a row, he found himself staying at his office until late at night, observing his office telephone with attention and indecision, silently praying for you to pick up the phone, practicing the rage filled words he was about to rain down on you the moment you uttered a response. He prayed with ill intentions, but he prayed nonetheless. It was his last resort. 

The earth seemed to crack open and swallow him whole the moment he gathered all his courage and dialed your number, only to hear an automated voice telling him that the number no longer existed. He sat there, phone on his hand as a white noise took over the voice message, thinking about the different possibilities that could have happened for you to cancel your line. Maybe, he thought. Maybe I really asked for too much this time. 

“Fuck no,” Ivar reflected out loud as he tossed his phone away, “In no fucking way this is my fault.”

“Ivar?” A distant voice reverberated through the glass corridors. It sounded familiar. The youngest Ragnarsson frowned, weirded out by the fact that one of his brothers was still in the office this late.

It wasn’t just one of his brothers, but the three of them.

“Freydis called us asking where you were. You’ve been out late at night for many days in a row, she literally just confronted each one of us asking whether you were having an affair.” Hvitserk said, arms crossed as he leaned on the door frame. “That woman nearly dragged each one of us out to look for you.” Ivar pursed his lips, outraged by such accusations from his then fiancée.

“Well, tell her I’d never do such thing.” He answered, swatting his hand in annoyance. “I am surprised she came to that conclusion, knowing how busy I always am as the bloody CEO!” He exclaimed, letting the following silence fill the room as he flashed a disdainful look towards his brothers.

“Why are you here, brother?” Ubbe finally dared to ask, observing his youngest sibling sway in his chair from side to side.

Ivar looked up for a brief moment, like a puppy who lost his favourite toy, and decided to tell them the whole story. That the had the hunch you were back from a strange event where someone knocked on his penthouse door. To that, Ubbe awkwardly shifted in his place, still listening intently. Ivar explained that he sent you an invite to his inaguration gala and how he asked you to stay for his speech so you could have a dance afterwards, unaware of the utterly personal turn his speech would take just because an old man decided to drink a bit more than usual that night. How he waited for you, called you and looked for you tirelessly, frustration filling his voice as he talked about how you had been avoiding him for a week now, changing your phone number in the process.

“If she thinks she can avoid me by changing numbers she’s dead wrong. We’re business partners, for fucks sake!” He complained, registering the situation as a burden. “I’ll find her new phone sooner or later.”

Unbeknownst Ivar, tension had been gradually building up as he spoke, his three brothers standing still in their places, not knowing how to break the news. Sure they knew this day would come, but none of the three expected to be trapped with the ticking bomb. It was way too soon. Too recent. 

Hell, it was about you. It was most likely no amount of time would soften the blow.

Ubbe took a step forward, leaning on the hardwood desk. With a resigned tone, he mumbled:

“She’s gone, Ivar.” He swallowed. “(Y/n) left Kattegat.”

Already motionless before, Ivar remained still. He darted his eyes to look at his brother, confusion and fear brewing within him, fueling a fire he thought it was extinguished the day he made Sigurd leave. With trembling lips but a determined voice, he asked how did he know. How did Ubbe Ragnarsson, the brother who would stab his youngest sibling in the back at the slightest opportunity, know the whereabouts of his woman, while he sat there completely lost, disoriented.

With an attempt of a soothing voice, Ubbe confessed that months ago he offered you a job position to work on a humanitarian project he had running in Haiti. Aslaug had stated in her will that she wished to expand the non-profit organisation she created to other countries and Ubbe decided to make his deceased mother’s wish come true. He told Ivar that while you rejected the offer at first, you ended up accepting it the night of his gala. That you made him promise to make the process fast and discreet, and that, while you insisted on paying for the plane tickets, Lothbrok Inc. paid for your travel expenses and necessities. You left three days ago, unnanounced, with only Ubbe at the airport to bid you farewell.

Hvitserk, who remained silent all this time, let him know that you were no longer the owner of the bar you opened together. At that, Ivar panicked, his eyes wide open as he snapped his head towards his older brother. You simply signed a transfer contract, with Ubbe as the witness and five krone as the contingency, stating that you were returning the property to Lothbrok Inc., thus paying your debt to the family and releasing yourself from any ties to Ivar. He tried to soften the blow, letting him know that he didn’t know you gave him your share because you were leaving. He thought it was a rash decision that stemmed from seeing Ivar with a fiancée, that you’d come back and take back the business when you were ready. He promised he’d take care of the bar as well as you took care of it, that nothing would change under his management.

Ivar listened intently, motionless. His breathing was deep, yet steady. He never moved a muscle voluntarily, but his nostrils flared with every breath and his hand, hidden under the desk, shook incontrollably as he processed their words. His piercing gaze was focused on the oldest Aslaugsson, who was now relaxing and straightening his back as he regained his composure.

It felt like every action happened in slow motion, yet the blow came fast. In mere seconds, Ivar had propped himself forward from the chair, one of his hands grabbing the jacket Ubbe was wearing while the other, contracted in a fist, made contact with his right cheek. That is when Bjorn, who had been silent during the whole exchange, stepped in, grabbing the torso of his youngest brother as he struggled to keep himself standing, making sure he didn’t hurt himself.

Sometimes, Ivar still hears his own screams.

“YOU TOOK HER FROM ME!” Ivar accused, eyes absent of tears but voice cracking at the end of the sentence. “SHEWAS GOING TO STAY,” He roared, fists swinging towards his brother’s face. “AND YOU FUCKING TOOK HER FROM ME!”

He lost it that night. The screams he released came from the depths of his sorrow, his eyes only registering red while all his nerves could only feel the desperation taking over his soul. Ivar kept trying to reach Ubbe, unaware of how he repeatedly banged his legs against the desk as Bjorn tried to pin him down. 

But what started as a justified outburst gradually led to nonsensical, rage-filled accusations.

“You wanted to fuck her, didn’t you? You wanted her and you couldn’t stand the fact that she chose ME!” Ivar recriminated, grabbing a sharp glass ornament and throwing it to his brother. Ubbe pursed his lips, dodging the improvised weapon. “You did this to get back at me, hmm? YOU WANT ALL I HAVE, DON’T YOU?” He seethed, eyes and mouth wide open, exposing his teeth like a menacing predator as he let out a guttural laugh.

Bjorn was having a difficult time restraining him. Years relying on his upper body strength gave Ivar the advantage of resilience amongst his biggest sibling, while Bjorn struggled to keep him in place. Ivar managed to grab the second glass ornament, throwing it as he shrieked.

“DON’T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?” his voice boomed in the room, palm pounding his chest as his free hand signaled the whole place. “YOU CAN’T TAKE THIS AWAY FROM ME, I AM IVAR LOTHBROK! YOU CAN’T TAKE THIS AWAY FROM ME!” Ivar kept shouting, cursing as he spat towards Ubbe.

Hvitserk stepped forward, having seen enough, ready to take on his little brother. To his surprise, Ubbe halted him, his arm creating a barrier between Hvitserk and Ivar as he observed with intent and horror etched on his face.

That night, Ivar lost the little progress he made. He broke his femur, dignity left behind as an ambulance carried him to the emergency room.

As if that wasn’t enough, he lost another family member to Lagertha that night.

With a reedy voice as he laid down in the hospital bed, he asked Ubbe one thing:

“Bring her back.” He whispered, his eyes stuck in the ceiling, pretty certain that if he laid his eyes on his brother, he would kill him. “She is working for Lothbrok Inc. now. Bring her back.” His request was met with silence. “That’s an order.” He swallowed, nostrils flaring with each ticking second.

“I’m sorry, Ivar.” Ubbe mumbled. “The Sigurðdóttir Trust is out of your reach.” He reminded him, reopening a wound that Ivar closed not so long ago. “That’s what mother wished.” Ivar snapped his head at the mention of his beloved mother. The brim of his eyes were red like his sclera, a menacing gaze stabbing his brother as Ivar grabbed his wrist.

“You have three days to gather your stuff and leave Lothbrok Inc.” Ivar seethed as he moved his face closer to his brother. “If you’re not gone after that, I will make sure you’ll leave the premises crawling like I crawled as a child.” Ivar swore, releasing his wrist as he let his head drop back to the sterile pillow.

Up to this day, Ivar still saw Ubbe’s action as a huge betrayal. He knew his older brother would return to his life as the new addition of Lagertha’s legal team, Bjorn granted his little brother this little backup plan.

Tonight, his thoughts weighted a little heavier. His eyes scanned the city before focusing on his bedroom, where he finds the clothes he wore today discarded on the leather chair. Behind him, his wife slept peacefully, her baby bumb protuding more and more each passing day. His legs were alright, but with the absence of physical pain he could sense his yearning looming over his head.

Ivar sighs and stands up silently, his bare feet and metallic support dragging on the tiles as he moved to his home office.

Dr. Nielsen taught him the importance of adapted emotional releases. She actively discouraged Ivar from indulging in his impulses and told him to write them down instead. For business meetings, Ivar was told to count until 10, 20 or even 30 if he was encountered with bad news. When it came to personal affairs, Dr. Nielsen told him to write letters addressed to the pertinent subject. Ivar could write them and discard them, write them and take them to therapy or he could write them and send them to the addressee. 

It wasn’t the most effective exercise, but it kept his flame at bay. He needed to learn to do that, now that he knew he had a little one coming soon.

Sometimes he wrote to his mother, asking her questions about ruling an empire he wished he had the answer to. Those he kept, as a tool to reflect later on when his ambition peaked. The more emotional ones he’d take to Dr. Nielsen, a proof of his progress on his journey to... normalcy. The ones he wrote to Sigurd, those he threw away. In those pages filled with guilt and rage, he found himself cornered in a bleak past that seemed to refuse to let him go.

Tonight, he thought about you.

It wasn’t like you weren’t a constant presence in his mind, like an annoying tenant in his brain that refused to leave or pay rent. Ivar just chose to remember the best parts of you, those who could be found at the bar you owned, or on his bed when Freydis left him for the night. If he kept you alive that way, he would also keep alive that part of him he thought he lost. You were inevitable, like the pain after a blow or the kiss after a reencounter.

He wishes he could blame you. For leaving, for stepping outside the gala without waiting for your dance. For silently giving away your shares to Hvitserk, who the only thing he knew about bars was how to empty the alcohol pantry. But there is a part of him that cannot physically repulse you.

Ivar sits down and turns on the desk lamp in front of him. He finds his precious pen and puts a piece of paper on the desk. Before starting, he hesitates.

Dear (Y/n),

He groans, crossing the two words with disdain.

Hello.

“Hello?” Ivar shakes his head, crossing the word again.

Hi, princess.

Ivar cringes. No.

Frustrated, he discards the paper. He had done it before. Why was it so hard to do it all over again now?

Just... Jump right in. Start from the beginning, start from the middle, start from the end if you prefer. He recalls the advice of his therapist. Sometimes, formalities are overrated. It may help when you have nothing to say, but it becomes a burden when you got too much to say. Ivar reflected. 

And so he did.

Every night I drive through the streets of Kattegat I find myself looking for you wandering around, looking for me to give you a lift, for the memory of our first reencounters were the ones that helped us find redemption.

It is weird, but I still have the need to find you even though I know you are no longer here. The idea of you lives in my head, that I am sure of. The feel of you, that is what I miss.

I guess part of me feels like I still need to apologise for something that I’ve done.

At the sight of his words written on paper, Ivar blinks. He never consciously thought much more ahead of his negations, his feelings dictating the perspectives he kept imposing to his reality.

He sacrificed so much for you. He tried to change for you. He went to therapy, he learned to walk. Ivar tried to become the right man for you, he really tried. 

He wished you were there to see it.

Ivar doesn’t really know what he did wrong. All he knows is...

And now that you’re gone for good, 

He shakes his head, crossing the last two words.

all I wish for is to be in the wrong this time.

Ivar huffs in frustration.

I wish I had been selfish, I wish I was the old Ivar. I wish I had begged you to stay, to manage this empire I never chos- by my side.

I know you would have never wanted this.

But I know you would have never said no to us.

Mindlessly, Ivar puts his pen in his mouth, a subconscious tick he developped not-so recently. Passing his hands through his hair, he sighed.

I started to smoke. He confessed. I know you never liked the smell, how it clings to my clothes, my mouth, how it lingered around the house when my brothers decided to have one one in their rooms. Ivar snorts at the memory. Not that you’re here to tell me off. 

Freydis has been buying candles, they’re all around the house now. The smell of the cigarettes blends with the essences and I technically get to have fire dispensers in every single room.

“Maybe I’m waiting for you to magically show up and tell me to fuck off.” He whispers.

Suddenly, Ivar shakes his head, as if the physical gesture cleared his mind.

I guess I’ll have to stop soon, I have a baby on the way. He releases an airy laugh as he re-reads what he just wrote. Who would have thought, (Y/n)? A baby. Me. Your Ivar.

The young Ragnarsson lets out a tired sigh, strenghening his grip on the metalling pen as he mindlessly tapped on the crystal desk. With resigned resolution, he decides to write his last lines, telling himself that he is finally starting to accept reality.

I know you’re not going to come back. Not to the place we grew up at, at least.

If you ever do, I just want to let you know, as sappy as it may sound, that my heart will always be open for you, even when my arms are not.

I miss you.

I miss us.

Take care,

Ivar.

Dropping the pen, Ivar stares at his letter. His hands blindly search for an envelope, a frown etched on his face until his fingertips brush against the soft surface of the letter. You don’t know, but he found your new address. He searched around Ubbe’s old files.

With a careful manner, Ivar writes down your address on the envelope. 

He stands up, walks to his living room and grabs a jacket as he makes his way to the exit.

All of the sudden he stops right on his tracks, his free hand almost reaching to the door handle. Freydis seemed to have forgotten to put out a lone candle, a tiny fragrance dispenser resting on the entrance drawer.

Ivar may not be aware of a lot of things in life, but one thing he was certain of: smoke traveled faster than mail.

His hand was trembling slightly, but it managed to follow his instructions. With a swift move, Ivar positioned the ephemeral piece of paper on the fire, watching intently how the flames consumed his words and took them to you. Discreetly, he threw the burning letter in the empty bin, the lid cutting short the trail of smoke escaping from the container.

He makes sure ashes are all what it remains from his indecent confession and makes his way back to the bedroom. Slowly but steadily, Ivar returns to bed, nesting himself between the sheets before holding his beloved wife in his embrace.

Tonight, he was human. Tomorrow, he’ll have to be a God.

The end.

Taglist:

Note: This is the old taglist I have noted from my past Ivar ficts. Please let me know if you want to be removed or added by sending an ask here. 

@aesstheticallypleasing @captstefanbrandt @unicornbaby741 @fuckthatfeeling @huffelpuffers @yannii04  @collecting-stories @timber3 @darkwolfpeanutskeleton @vampsclassiffied @lenafarn @yourpurplequeen​@youbloodymadgenius​ @lettersofwrittencollective​ 

[the-great-bbe]

The children shriek with laughter as the waves roll against their legs. The sweet sound melds with the crashing of the sea, of Mellario and Ellaria gossiping about their beloveds, of Rhaella sighing and relaxing for once. All is bright and golden and warm, save for their ice-cold goblets of sangria. Elia tilts her head back against her chair and smiles. Let those bastards keep that ugly ass throne, she has all she needs right here.

Or, the sangria beach party that Elia and her loved ones deserved. A short fic to start off Summer is for Dorne!

Among his many talents, Elia’s little brother is a master of mixing drinks.

He is a viper after all, and vipers know their poisons and how to mix them. Tequila from the agave blooming across the hillsides pairs perfectly with lime juice and distilled orange blossom nectar to make a margarita. Horchata foamy and fragrant with Summer Islander cinnamon can be elevated with sugarcane rum. And there’s nothing better on the gods’ green earth than red wine—proper Dornish sweetwine, not that diabetic piss from the Arbor—left to idle in icy splendor with strong brandy and fruit. Blood oranges, black strawberries, white nectarines, even a tart green apple or two. Their cousin Manfrey picked them all fresh from his private orchards near the Water Gardens just the day before. The bounty of Dorne for Dorne and Dornishmen alone.

A pitcher of his perfect sangria rests in a bucket full of ice slurry. Already her goblet is half empty, despite her efforts to sip and savor. It tastes so rich on her tongue much abused by dull Riverlands ale and Reacher wines. There are few blood oranges to be found north of the Boneway, even for a Princess of Dorne, and Elia feels the urge to inhale her drink. She sighs and rolls her shoulders. Just another sip for now. Summer explodes on her tongue, ripe and rich and such a dear welcome home.

Elia doesn’t remember the last time she was this happy. On Dragonstone it was a constant haze of sulfur and marine fog, and Kings Landing reeks from miles away. But here, on a long stretch of beach near Saltshore, the sun burns bright and delicious above the palm trees. Not a single cloud in the sapphire sky, nor any fog to mar the turquoise seas. Elia rolls her head back against her wicker chair. Perhaps later she’ll relocate to the hammock strung between two date palms and let the balmy sea breeze lull her and her children to sleep. But for now her precious Rhaenys plays in the surf with her cousins and Viserys, and dear Aegon builds a sandcastle with Oberyn’s help.

Instead of cowering from the Mad King’s rages and simmering with hatred towards her once husband, Elia lounges in the shade. Zinc paste is cloudy white on her shoulders, nose and ears to protect her from the strongest of the sun, just like the children. But the rest of her body is resplendent with shea butter and avocado oil. Thick aloe leaves already sticky with cooling sap wait in a basket by her feet in case she must ward away a sun burn, but her skin soaks up the midmorning sun like a child returning to her mother’s embrace. Gods, but the sun! She stretches her arms above her head and nearly knocks her wide brimmed hat aside. She swears she can feel the sunlight itself like warm silk through her fingers, like a waterfall down her chest to pool in her stomach and ignite joy in her veins.

She lets her gaze fall back towards the sea. When was the last time Rhaenys laughed this loudly? When was the last time Viserys laughed at all? Poor boy, but he, his mother and his baby sister are well in hand now. Targaryens by birth they may be, but the blood of Myriah Martell and Dyanna Dayne run sevenfold in their veins. Dorne shall never turn its back on any child no matter the color of their skin, and even from her shaded refuge Elia sees the freckles blooming across Viserys’s shoulders. Good; the more sun the better. Uncle Lewyn’s eldest daughter Obara throws him headlong into the waves and he shrieks with joy, while her little sister Nym and Doran’s Arianne demand their own toss into the surf. Rhaenys and Manfrey’s daughter Sarella help Lewyn’s Tyene search for shells and crabs, giggling and kicking seaweed at each other. When they find a proper shell, they bring it to Aegon and Oberyn who add it to their castle. Aegon blows a messy kiss onto Rhaenys’s cheek and Elia’s heart runs over with sweet warmth. Her babies, alive and well and happy.

It was a terribly close thing by the end of Robert’s Rebellion. Elia’s correspondence was cut off by Aerys in his paranoia, but she was able to smuggle out a letter to Oberyn when Rhaella left for Dragonstone. He returned with his sellswords to rescue them from their imprisonment, and not a moment sooner—Elia remembers how Kings Landing burned from her view on the ship home to Dorne. To think of what would’ve happened had they stayed…they say that Aerys was cut down by his own Kingsguard, and that the royal nursery was torn to shreds by the Mountain That Rides in search of children to kill.

Elia shudders. Perish the thought, banish it to the seven hells. Rhaegar is dead, and her children are Martells now. Even Rhaella forsook the Targaryen name when they alighted in Sunspear and she was hurried into proper birthing chambers. Daenerys came to the world not as a Targaryen princess but as a Lady Martell of Dorne, with Rhaella Martell the new Lady of Planky Town. Viserys and Aegon shall not give their lives to the Wall and Rhaenys shall not be chained to a Baratheon prince. Not if Westeros intends for Dorne to remain in the Seven Kingdoms, and truth be told Elia wonders if Doran intends to leave anyway. They entered into a kingdom with a union, and perhaps they shall leave with the sundering of one…

But that’s not what matters today. What matters is refilling her goblet. Elia raises it high, and Doran shuffles over with the pitcher. Her dear older brother is shirtless, stained with sand and salt, and there is a sweet flush to his cheeks. Even his bad leg seems fine with the therapy of burning sunlight illuminating their bones from the inside out. Mellario must certainly appreciate that! Her good sister lies on a spread linen sheet on the sands with Ellaria, Oberyn’s paramour. Both of them are bronze in the sun, a silk turban around Mellario’s head and Ellaria’s curls formed into twists down her back. And its’ said that Cersei Lannister is the most beautiful in Westeros, obviously people are blind. They look up at them with mischievous grins, before bumping their heads together and giggling. Elia smirks at Doran. “Careful now, habibi. I believe you’ll be ambushed later in the night and whisked away by a mystery woman.”

He laughs and his eyes crinkle at the edges. “I’ll be sure to not fight back too much.” He plops down next to her and sips at his lemon water. The maesters forbid him from alcohol and sugar until his gout is under control, a true tragedy in Elia’s eyes as the sangria is excellent. But even more excellent is seeing how happy her brother is. Gods, to imagine him mourning her and her babies as they did for uncle Lewyn, it’s a fate she would not wish on her loved ones. She intends to live to a hundred and twenty, just to ensure he’ll always smile at her with crinkled eyes.

Elia leans against his shoulder and peers out towards the cabana higher up towards the oasis grove. “Has Rhaella returned from Saltshore yet? Dany was giving the wet nurse a bit of a hard time.”

“Missed me, have you?” Rhaella, emerged from their cabana and the platters of fruit kept safe from the sea salt there, calls down to them. It’s been only a few months, and Rhaella is unrecognizable. Elia is glad to see the plump roundness of her stomach and thighs where before she was only skin and bone. And her skin, once as pale as parchment and twice as translucent, is as dark as her great-grandmother Dyanna. It glows against her silver-gold hair and lavender eyes, and there is happiness in her face where before there was only stifled fear.

Elia waves Rhaella over to the empty wicker chair by her side. Perhaps later, when the children sleep off their lunch and the adults are properly sauced from sangrias and margaritas, they’ll return to the cabana and lounge on the day beds. Maybe even one of the cabana boys—cabana men in truth, with their strong arms and backs—can give them all shoulder massages. Rhaella has a little favorite who is always eager to help his new lady relax. Elia raises her eyebrows at her good mother and she takes a long sip of her margarita. Elia is far from judging, as Rhaella deserves whatever happiness she can grasp.

They all do. How long have they all suffered these last years? Suffering Aerys, suffering Rhaegar, suffering the war that they wrought upon Westeros. Elia still remembers the screams from Rhaella’s chambers during their terrible stays in Kings Landing, she remembers the cold silences before Harrenhal and the even colder absences after. And now those men are dead and thousands with them. All over some Northern girl, and a prophecy that probably foretold the coming of the seasons than any promised prince!

Well, fuck them. Westeros has a new king now, in that stinking castle filled with blood and shit and ghosts, and the Baratheons and Lannisters can figure it out now. Let them have the starving smallfolk ready to rebel after a harsh winter. Let them have the honor of bartering away pieces of their souls until all that remains is bleeding pride. Let them have it all. All that matters to Dorne is the rice crop, and managing citrus exports, and the wellbeing of its people. Elia plans to build a new school for smallfolk children and petty gentry in Sunspear, as she is now Princess of Sunspear. More Martell branches for a blood orange tree to bear wondrous fruit. All beneath the sun, so bright in that perfect sky…

Elia sips her sangria. Oberyn and Aegon are finished with their sandcastle, and now he’s pulled out a guitar from somewhere and tries to teach his nephew how to play. Rhaenys perches on Obara’s shoulders and pretends to joust with Arianne who is on Viserys’s. Manfrey and his Summer Islander wife Bellegara Otherys finally finish up their romantic walk up and down the shore, with Bellegara joining Mellario and Ellaria’s whisper pile and Manfrey pulling Doran away to talk drunken business. Something about making a fleet of ships to rival Nymeria’s, and selling sweetwine to Sothoryos in exchange for coconut and date liquor. Elia giggles and can’t stop. Not with the sun so warm on her skin, not with Rhaella raising her goblet and toasting the coming summer.

It’s still winter north of the Red Mountains, but not here. No, summer is here for Dorne, and it is here to stay.

The children shriek with laughter as the waves roll against their legs. The sweet sound melds with the crashing of the sea, of Mellario and Ellaria gossiping about their beloveds, of Rhaella sighing and relaxing for once. All is bright and golden and warm, save for their ice-cold goblets of sangria. Elia tilts her head back against her chair and smiles.

Let those bastards keep that ugly ass throne, she has all she needs right here.