#how to improve at chess

[chessforkids]

The Chessboard and Rice Story | Unleash the Power of Exponential Growth in Chess | ChessForKids

[stump-not-found]

how do u get the motivation to write? i have an idea that's been floating around for months but i've never been able to actually sit down and write it. even when i do manage to write i don't get much farther than like 2-10 paragraphs before i go " this is garbage i'll finish it later " and then never come back to it. you have several hundred thousands of words. how

this is an interesting question, one that's gonna have several different answers because it's very personal to each person . please treat this as a very incomplete datapoint because i could ramble about a bunch of different approaches

I'm gonna make an initial point that I'm in my thirties; I'm extremely used to tedium, and I find that's the number one blocker to folks. boredom is okay . you don't have to love everything you make . it's just important that you make anything at all

im also extremely opinionated. almost everything i write is because i engaged with some other art that pissed me off but i don't want to be a cunt about it . so i write 100k words of weird smut instead

more thoughts under the cut!

In terms of specific checks I'd ask folks struggling with art, i'll start with a couple of things:

are your physical needs being met?

If you find yourself struggling to write, check in with yourself and If you're tired, or hungry, or haven't gone for a walk, or haven't had fun/socialized in a while. You're a physical being and as irritating as that can be sometimes, you can't push past these things. Take care of your body!

Do you have community?

Inspiration for me is primarily driven out of a joy of talking and sharing ideas with others. Find and cultivate relationships with people purposefully; this is one of the hardest things for me, i had to go to therapy to even be able to even talk to people, but having people to share ideas with and collaborate with is the number one motivator in my life. its really, really worth it

Are your outcomes clear?

Not every story can or should be super long, or complex. Sometimes, I write something just for the sake of finishing something, specifically to train my brain in getting comfortable with starting and finishing something. Other times I write something to practice a specific technique. Other times? It's just to indulge, quality be damned -- sometimes you just got to go hog wild

Are you giving yourself permission to learn?

This is the most important to me. Making art isn't about being good at something; it's just something humans do. It's good for you. It's good to make shit that's bad, and to recognize that's part of the joy! Learning to be a novice is a genuine skill, and it feels terrible at first, but it gets easier to more you let yourself accept that you've got a lifetime to learn, and that's a wonderful thing

There's probably a lot more i could list off but your physical needs, community, clear outcomes, and learning mindset are the concepts that seem the most generally applicable.

for things more specific to me and my specific quirks as a human, i guess the only other thing I can mention is I write an abnormal amount of words per day, because I'm very comfortable with letting myself write shit words . like on average im pulling 2k words a day -- this is weird . doctors hate me . doctors also crave me .

this is probably because i'm an insane pervert . but also i practice not judging a thing that doesn't exist yet, and do a stream of consciousness approach when i write -- which is to say, I'll do some basic pre-planning of a scene, but a lot of times its just letting my thoughts flow freely without censorship . i'm already so visually minded because i've been writing comics & scripts for over a decade at this point, so it's pretty easy for me to picture dynamic scenes, and at that point i can just literally write out the actions im picturing

I do not edit, I do not pause, I just let the words in my head flow and have faith that it will be good . i'm an extremely indulgent writer and encourage everyone else to be as well . i'm dog shit at grammar and make a lot of mistakes . i thankfully have wonderful friends who help me learn and grow in the areas i am weak in

when you just let yourself write what the fuck ever, sometimes you get some really dope shit out of it. Other times you write 4k words of dogshit that you gotta delete. Either way, I have fun, I learn something about my story, and I get a little bit better at trusting myself to make something i enjoy reading

be selfish in art . but also be empathetic, and curious ! write shit you hate . write shit you love . write shit that only you and one other freak are gonna enjoy . just be weird about it i guess is the main thing .

OH!!! OH ONE FINAL THING SORRY: listen to music and hallucinate and pace in circles and spend hours just rotating images in your head to music . literally my number one thing for coming up for shit that rocks . go listen to some hatsune miku right the fuck now . i know not everyone can visualize things but pacing around listening to music is such a big part of the writing process for me please go kneel before hatsune miku and kiss her on the ring

[sometimesanequine]

i'm BEGGING you if you don't like posting daily horse art anymore PLEASE STOP AND TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF i'm a big fan of yours but i want to see you well even if that means you won't post daily horse art anymore

i like posting horse art though even if i dont really care for drawing it anymore 🤷 my brain likes to lie to me and say. oh but ferry? shouldnt you stop? but then i think about it real hard. and i really enjoy people's nice tags and comments. so i will continue

[angsttronaut]

caffeine is sure making me realise how bad my executive function issues are holy shit

[reasonsforhope]

By the way, you can improve your executive function. You can literally build it like a muscle.

Yes, even if you're neurodivergent. I don't have ADHD, but it is allegedly a thing with ADHD as well. And I am autistic, and after a bunch of nerve damage (severe enough that I was basically housebound for 6 months), I had to completely rebuild my ability to get my brain to Do Things from what felt like nearly scratch.

This is specifically from ADDitude magazine, so written specifically for ADHD (and while focused in large part on kids, also definitely includes adults and adult activities):

Here's a link on this for autism (though as an editor wow did that title need an editor lol):

Resources on this aren't great because they're mainly aimed at neurotypical therapists or parents of neurdivergent children. There's worksheets you can do that help a lot too or thought work you can do to sort of build the neuro-infrastructure for tasks.

But a lot of the stuff is just like. fun. Pulling from both the first article and my own experience:

Play games or video games where you have to make a lot of decisions. Literally go make a ton of picrews or do online dress-up dolls if you like. It helped me.

Art, especially forms of art that require patience, planning ahead, or in contrast improvisation

Listening to longform storytelling without visuals, e.g. just listening regularly to audiobooks or narrative podcasts, etc.

Meditation

Martial arts

Sports in general

Board games like chess or Catan (I actually found a big list of what board games are good for building what executive functioning skills here)

Woodworking

Cooking

If you're bad at time management play games or video games with a bunch of timers

Things can be easier. You might always have a disability around this (I certainly always will), but it can be easier. You do not have to be this stuck forever.

[inthegardenofprayers]

"What was going through your mind? Talk to me. Tell me what your thinking when these girls are screaming for you to stop and you don't, you continue? -Stacey Dooley" | "When it comes to have sex, no one can control it. It's a very strong desire. Even if she was trying to stop me, you know... But when I finished with her and saw her crying my heart would break for her." -ISIS Commander

"I think homosexual activity is a sin... I'm sure there's a genetic component to homosexual orientation. But the view of all religious people I know has always been that sexual behavior is something that is up to you." -Ben Shapiro | "For example, I may have a desire to sleep with many women, but I do not." -Ben Shapiro

|-------------------------------------------

But the story of the golden calf also reminds us that without rules we quickly become slaves to our passions--and there's nothing freeing about that. | (Credit: Jordan Peterson/PhD Clinical Psychology/Book: 12 Rules For Life: An Antidote To Chaos)

She didn't join us that day, but in time she came to our way of thinking. | And even before then she wavered and wondered what would've happened. | It is a familiar path... there were those who wished to follow you to war, yet remained behind. | They came to hate you for the choices they wished to make. -Malak, Knights of the Old Republic II

[manasastuff-blog]

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[thewriteadviceforwriters]

✏️ Writing Dialogue That Sounds Like Real People, Not Theater Kids on Red Bull

(a crash course in vibes, verbal economy, and making your characters shut up already)

Okay. We need to talk about dialogue. Specifically: why everyone in your draft sounds like they’re in a high school improv group doing a dramatic reading of Riverdale fanfiction.

Before you panic, this is normal. Early dialogue is almost always too much. Too polished. Too "scripted." So if yours feels off? You’re not failing. You’re just doing Draft Zero Dialogue, and it’s time to revise it like a boss.

Here’s how to fix it.

─────── ✦ ───────

🎭 STEP ONE: DETOX THEATER ENERGY I say this with love: your characters are not all quippy geniuses. They do not need to deliver emotional monologues at every plot beat. They can just say things. Weird, half-finished, awkward things.

Real people:

interrupt each other

trail off mid-thought

dodge questions

contradict themselves

repeat stuff

change the subject randomly

Let your characters sound messy. Not every line needs to sparkle. In fact, the more effort you put into making dialogue ✨perfect✨, the more fake it sounds. Cut 30% of your clever lines and see what happens.

─────── ✦ ───────

🎤 STEP TWO: GIVE EACH CHARACTER A VERBAL FINGERPRINT The fastest way to make dialogue feel alive? Make everyone speak differently. Think rhythm, grammar, vocabulary, tone.

Some dials you can twist:

Long-winded vs. clipped

Formal vs. casual

Emojis of speech: sarcasm, filler words, expletives, slang

Sentence structure: do they talk in fragments? Run-ons? Spirals?

Emotion control: are they blunt, diplomatic, avoidant, performative?

Here’s a shortcut: imagine what your character sounds like over text. Are they the “lol okay” type or the “okie dokie artichokie 🌈✨” one? Now translate that into speech.

─────── ✦ ───────

🧠 STEP THREE: FUNCTION > FILLER Every line of dialogue should do something. Reveal something. Move something. Change something.

Ask:

Does this line push the plot forward?

Does it show character motivation/conflict/dynamic?

Does it create tension, add context, or raise a question?

If it’s just noise? It’s dead air. Cut it. Replace it with a glance. A gesture. A silence that says more.

TIP: look at a dialogue scene and remove every third line. Does the scene still work? Probably better.

─────── ✦ ───────

💥 STEP FOUR: REACTIVITY IS THE GOLD STANDARD Characters don’t talk into a void. They respond. And how they respond = the real juice.

Don’t just write back-and-forth ping pong. Write conflict, dodge, misunderstanding. If one character says something vulnerable, the other might joke. Or ignore it. Or say something cruel. That’s tension.

Dialogue is not just information exchange. It’s emotional strategy.

Try this exercise: A says something revealing. B lies. A notices, but pretends they don’t. B changes the subject. Now you’ve got a real scene.

─────── ✦ ───────

🔍 STEP FIVE: PAY ATTENTION TO POWER Every convo has a power dynamic, even if it’s tiny. Who’s steering? Who’s withholding? Who’s deflecting, chasing, challenging?

Power can shift line to line. That shift = tension. And tension = narrative fuel.

Write conversations like chess matches, not ping pong.

─────── ✦ ───────

✂️ STEP SIX: SCISSORS ARE YOUR BEST FRIEND The best dialogue is often the second draft. Or third. Or fourth. First drafts are just you figuring out what everyone wants to say. Later drafts figure out what they actually would say.

Things to cut:

Greetings/closings ("Hi!" "Bye!"--skip it unless it serves tone)

Exposition disguised as chat

Obvious thoughts spoken aloud

Explaining jokes

Repeating what we already know

Readers are smart. Let them fill in blanks.

─────── ✦ ───────

🎧 STEP SEVEN: READ IT OUT LOUD (YES, REALLY) If you hate this step: too bad. It works. Read it. Mumbling is fine. Cringe is part of the ritual.

Ask yourself:

Would someone actually say this?

Does this sound like one person speaking, or a puppet show with one hand?

Where does the rhythm trip? Where’s the breath?

If you can’t say it out loud without wincing, the reader won’t make it either. Respect the vibe.

─────── ✦ ───────

🏁 TL;DR: If you want your dialogue to sound like real people, let your characters be real. Messy. Annoying. Human. Let them interrupt and lie and joke badly and say the wrong thing at the worst time.

Cut the improv class energy. Kill the urge to be ✨brilliant✨. And listen to how people talk when they’re scared, tired, pissed off, in love, or trying not to say what they mean.

That’s where the good stuff is.

—rin t. // thewriteadviceforwriters // official advocate of awkward silences and one-word replies

P.S. I made a free mini eBook about the 5 biggest mistakes writers make in the first 10 pages 👀 you can grab it here for FREE:

[bluemoonbun]

Rotating an idea in my head;

Imagine a neglected!Reader who did everything in an attempt to impress their family.

Who got amazing grades and got into high school at age 11.

Who was "a savant beyond their years" and "talented beyond what their age group could be taught".

Skills came easy to them. Give them a year and some encouragement and before you know it they'll have mastered whatever it was.

It wasn't like they could leave the house and hang out with friends. Bruce said that was off the table. It got quiet so often in the manor.

But it wasn't enough

Until someone saw the potential that Batman was just leaving there. Like he wanted someone to just... scoop them up and tutor them.

Their friends and allies and even a few enemies saw the potential. They all agreed to teach them their greatest skill. In a year they've mastered all of them, even surpassing some of them.

Any drug they were developing was improved beyond anything they could've imagined.

Weapons fashioned to fit them far surpassed anything, even the best on the black market.

The Rogue Gallery was beyond impressed.

And Reader was on Cloud Nine with all the attention it was earning them. Head pats, praise, treats. It was more than anything they could've asked for. And even if they didn't have a new invention at the end of the week, so many were willing to just hang out. Without prompting! No "Go bother Alfred" or "I'm busy" or "Another time, chickadee".

Harley had to be reminded that a 12 year old had no business around hyenas, even if Budsie and Louie were on their best behavior. Harley settled for watching old magical girl animes with you.

Luckily, Poison Ivy knew not to bring you around her poisonous plants. Though she did spend a concerning time teaching you exactly what plants were poisonous and how they were poisonous.

Bane taught you everything he knew, from throwing a punch, to how to scare someone off. Granted, a 12 year old, with so much of their baby fat in their cheeks, and wrists as thick as Bane's thumb, looked like a Ragdoll kitten copying a Bengal tiger. He played chess with you too, and he said that given your role in advising, a knight or a bishop would fit you best.

Bane was your favorite. He'd smush your face (gently, you were so tiny he was scared of breaking you), lift you up, even do pushups and pull ups with you on his back.

When Bane told you how he'd saved Alfred once during a collapse of Arkham Asylum, only to be incapacitated once Alfred was "done" with him, it made your blood boil.

As you learned all of their stories, learned the human in all of them, you knew that you were saved from a family with rotten blood. You'd spend your life repaying them, even if they never asked.

--------

Eventually, you decide to follow them into battle. You're kept up and away from the bulk of the battle. This time, it was Joker vs the Batfamily. Tim was unable to track what he'd been trying to do past a few errant clues. It was clear that the Rouge Gallery had a new villain.

You were given direct instructions to watch yourself; Joker wouldn't care enough to tear his eyes off Batman. You already knew that; Harley had spent 3 days trying to convince you to reschedule with someone else, but you told her you wanted Joker, not someone who'd be tempted to glance back and give away your hiding space.

Jason was the one that saw you. You were dressed in a costume that resembled a bishop chess piece with a split full face mask, perched atop a van far from the actual battle. His old scars with Joker made him hesitate, but you looked like a definite person of interest, and everyone else was indisposed.

He ran over, firing rubber bullets as you dodged, eventually tripping and falling off the van. Why were you so small? Jason picked you up, grip just loose enough so you could breathe.

You reached up, pulling your mask off. Jason blanched as he saw your face, soft around the edges and wide eyed.

Bruce told him that he'd stayed away to protect you from the vigilante life. You were the one person who hadn't pushed to join them, so he never told you about missions to avoid any ideas of joining. Jason followed suit, and so did the others. Their lives were busy enough anyways, and you had Alfred when he didn't have something more important to do.

He may have brushed you off more than absolutely necessary, but he wasn't in the right headspace then! You had already grown so much and all he'd wanted by then was vengeance on Batman. You couldn't blame him for keeping his distance at that point. He was protecting you.

But here you were, pinned by the throat by your own brother. Your protector. He released you, taking a step back. He glanced around for an opening, seeing a small alleyway. He gestured over his shoulder for you to follow. "C'mon kid. I'll get you back home and I won't even tell Bruce you snuck out, 'k?"

Suddenly, he felt a prick in his back, shortly followed by a burning itch and ice cold pain. He fell to the ground, trying to reach the spot you pricked.

"Miss Ivy said these were dangerous. Her own home blend. It's a diluted version, so you'll be fine in a few days, Todd" said the much too calm voice above him. He was struggling to breathe around the writhing mass of pain, looking up at you between blinks of tears.

He couldn't scream, he could barely breathe. He could die here and the family wouldn't know until the dust settled.

"It won't kill you, and from the looks of it, they'll be coming to pick you up soon."

"Aren't we family?" He chokes out between gasps. He felt so lost. You were his baby sibling, the tiny thing that'd wander the halls, holding an old chess board as you asked your cool big brother to play with you. The person he kept away from to protect. How could you repay him like this?

Hadn't he done so much for you?

You look at him from the boot of the van. When had you gotten so far away? Your voice is quiet, but it's heard, if barely, over the revving of the engine as Joker's minions prepare to drive away, and the screaming of his name as the rest of the family approaches.

"Were we? I never thought you wanted a baby sibling like me."

-------

The Batfamily took him home and patched him up. The new tech, like all other recent inventions brought in, were so advanced they bordered on state of the art. Even Tim was struggling to decode any of them, with all the kill-switches that seemed to recognize when it wasn't hooked up to the original computer and bricked themselves.

Jason had recovered, like you said, in a few days. Capable of breathing easily in 2 days, regularly needing to be sedated before then, and sitting up without pain by day 5.

The Batfamily had asked him by day 4 about the masked person they had seen next to him. Jason was detached from himself. That face, those eyes. They held no warmth for him, no pity for him while he was writhing in agony at their feet. Like he was less than a stranger.

Like he was less than human in their eyes.

Your name fell off his tongue like lead, slamming against the ground as everyone fell into silence.

"It was them. They gave me that injection. Their face, I-"

"Todd, did the injection give you hallucinations? There was no way that they'd accomplish something like that." Damian raised his brow, checking the chart to make sure the bulk was out of his system.

"I know what I saw. They hadn't even injected me when I saw their face."

"That's impossible, Jay! Look, I'll go to their room and get them right now. They'll probably be pretty cranky since it's, what, 4am?" Dick's footsteps disappeared down the hall.

After a few minutes, Dick came running back, looking at Jason with a mix of shock, horror, and confusion.

Two words.

Two words that finally made them look at you.

Two words that made them realized what they'd missed.

Two words that made them connect the inventions that almost got them killed to the darling child they'd convinced themselves they were protecting with cold shoulders and smothering silence.

Two words that made them refocus their sights on bringing you back.

"They're gone."

[little-jana]

"Good Girl"

Pairing: postprison!Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: steamy, 18+, fluff, no smut

Warnings: kissing, Spencer calling reader a good girl

Words: 3.4k

Summary: Spencer giving Reader a lot of compliments and one of them makes her blush a lot.

Spencer had been different since prison. Not entirely in ways the team would notice—he still rattled off statistics, quoted obscure literature, and beat everyone at chess. But when you’d known someone as deeply as I knew Spencer, even subtle shifts felt monumental. He was sharper now, his edges honed by experiences no one should have endured. But when it was just the two of us, in those quiet, stolen moments, he softened.

That’s why I stayed by his side tonight instead of joining the team for drinks. Spencer had waved off the invitation, saying he needed a quiet night, and when I hesitated to leave him alone, he’d asked me to stay. It wasn’t much—a shared meal and a chess game in his small apartment—but to me, it felt like everything.

“I can’t tell if you’re planning your next move or plotting my demise,” Spencer said, leaning back in his chair as he watched me.

“I can do both,” I said lightly, though the truth was, I’d been staring at the board for so long because I had no idea what to do.

He smirked, tilting his head slightly. “You’re stalling.”

“I’m thinking,” I corrected.

“You’ve been ‘thinking’ for six minutes and thirty-two seconds.”

“Are you timing me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, but I glanced at the clock when you stopped moving your hand after your last turn.”

“Of course you did,” I muttered, my eyes flicking back to the board. “Not all of us have an IQ of 187, you know.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. The soft light from the lamp behind him highlighted the sharp planes of his face, and for a second, I forgot what we were talking about.

“You’re better than you think,” he said, his voice low.

“Better at chess, or better in general?” I quipped, trying to deflect the heat rising in my cheeks.

Spencer didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied me, his hazel eyes unblinking and intent.

“Both,” he said simply.

My heart skipped a beat, but I forced myself to focus. This was just Spencer being Spencer—kind and honest to a fault. It didn’t mean anything. Not really.

Finally, I made a move, sliding my bishop into place. I looked up at him triumphantly. “Your turn, genius.”

Spencer’s eyes flicked to the board, and he moved his queen with a casual grace that made my stomach sink. “Checkmate,” he said softly.

“What?” I leaned forward, scanning the board. He was right. Of course he was right.

“How?” I groaned, sitting back in my chair. “I was so careful!”

“That was a good game,” he said, his tone genuine. “You lasted longer than usual.”

I rolled my eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

“No, really,” he insisted. “Your defense has improved. That last move was smart.”

“Then how did I still lose?”

His lips quirked into a smile. “Because I’ve been playing chess since I was four, and you’ve only been playing for—”

“Three months,” I finished for him.

“Exactly,” he said, his smile widening. “But you’re learning fast. Good girl.”

The words hit me like a freight train. My cheeks burned, and I ducked my head, pretending to fiddle with the edge of the table.

“Something wrong?” Spencer asked, his voice tinged with concern.

“No,” I said quickly, my voice higher than usual. “I’m fine.”

“You’re blushing,” he observed, tilting his head.

“I’m not,” I lied, even though I could feel the heat spreading down my neck.

His lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m not lying,” I said weakly, avoiding his gaze.

“Hmm,” he hummed, his tone teasing now.

Desperate to change the subject, I stood and grabbed the empty takeout containers from the coffee table. “I’m going to clean this up.”

Spencer followed me into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as I tossed the containers into the trash. His presence was a tangible thing, and I could feel his eyes on me as I wiped down the counter.

“Good,” he said softly.

I turned to face him, confused. “Good what?”

“Good technique,” he said, nodding toward the counter.

My cheeks flamed again. “Are you just saying that to mess with me?”

“No,” he said, his expression softening. “I mean it. You’re good at a lot of things, but you never give yourself credit.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “I think you’re overestimating me,” I said quietly.

Spencer stepped closer, his gaze never leaving mine. “No, I’m not,” he said firmly. “You’re smart, capable, and one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. You’re… amazing.”

My breath caught in my throat. The sincerity in his voice, the intensity in his eyes—it was overwhelming.

“Spencer…” I trailed off, unsure of what to say.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against mine. The touch was so gentle, so careful, it made my chest ache. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

I shook my head slightly. “It’s not that… I just don’t see myself the way you do.”

His brows furrowed, and he tilted his head slightly. “You should. Because I’m not wrong.”

The silence between us stretched, thick with unspoken words. I felt like I was standing on the edge of something, and for once, I wasn’t afraid to fall.

“You’re doing it again,” he said softly.

“Doing what?”

“Doubting yourself,” he said, his voice laced with a quiet kind of sadness.

I opened my mouth to argue, but the look on his face stopped me.

“You’re a good girl,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You just don’t know it yet.”

My cheeks burned, and I looked down, unable to meet his gaze.

“Hey,” he said gently, tilting my chin up with his finger. “Don’t hide from me.”

“I’m not hiding,” I whispered, though the words felt hollow.

“Yes, you are,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “And you don’t have to.”

Before I could overthink it, I stepped closer, closing the small distance between us. “Spencer…”

“Yes?”

I hesitated, my heart hammering in my chest. But then his eyes softened, and I knew. I knew he would catch me if I fell.

“I want to kiss you,” I said, my voice barely audible.

Spencer's lips curved into a small, surprised smile. “You do?”

I nodded, my cheeks flaming. “Is that… okay?”

His eyes softened, a mixture of surprise and something deeper—something that made my heart race. “It’s more than okay,” he said quietly.

I barely had time to process his words before his hand cupped my cheek, his fingers feather-light against my skin. He was so close now, his breath warm against my lips. For a moment, we just stood there, suspended in time.

And then he kissed me.

The world fell away.

It started soft, tentative—like he was afraid I’d disappear if he moved too quickly. His lips brushed against mine once, twice, each touch careful and reverent. It was everything I hadn’t dared to hope for: tender, consuming, perfect.

But then I leaned in, my fingers clutching at the front of his cardigan, and something shifted. The kiss deepened, and Spencer’s hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. His other hand rested lightly on my waist, steadying me as my knees threatened to give out beneath me.

The softness gave way to something bolder, more urgent. His lips moved against mine with a fervor that left me breathless, and I couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped me. Spencer stilled for a fraction of a second, as if startled by the sound, but then his grip tightened ever so slightly, and I was lost all over again.

He tasted like peppermint tea and something uniquely Spencer, and I never wanted it to end.

When we finally pulled apart, I was dizzy, my head spinning in the best way possible. Spencer rested his forehead against mine, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

“That was…” He trailed off, his voice unsteady.

“Amazing,” I finished for him, my voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and intimate in the quiet of his apartment. “Yeah. Amazing.”

My cheeks flushed, but this time it wasn’t from embarrassment—it was from the way he was looking at me, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted, his voice low.

“Really?” I asked, my heart swelling at the thought.

He nodded, a small, shy smile playing at his lips. “But I didn’t think you felt the same way.”

“Spencer,” I said, shaking my head with a soft laugh. “How could I not? You’re… you.”

His brow furrowed slightly, like he was trying to puzzle out my words. “I’m not always good at recognizing when people care about me,” he said quietly.

“Well, I care,” I said firmly, my hand still clutching the front of his cardigan. “A lot.”

He smiled then, a real, unguarded smile that made my chest ache in the best way. “I care about you too,” he said softly.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was thick with unspoken promises, the kind that didn’t need words to be understood.

Spencer’s hand slid from my waist to my hand, his fingers curling around mine. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

I looked away, flustered. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” he said, tugging me closer. “You’re smart, kind, and strong. And you’re a good girl.”

There it was again, the phrase that sent my heart into overdrive. My cheeks burned, and I bit my lip, trying to suppress the shy smile threatening to break free.

“You really like saying that, don’t you?” I teased, though my voice came out softer than I intended.

“Only because it’s true,” he said, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.

The sincerity in his voice, the way he was looking at me—I couldn’t take it. I hid my face in his chest, my fingers curling into the fabric of his cardigan.

“You’re impossible,” I mumbled against him, though my tone lacked any real heat.

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he replied, his voice filled with gentle amusement.

I tilted my head up to look at him, narrowing my eyes in mock indignation. “You’re lucky I like you.”

His smile widened, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “I’m the lucky one.”

---

After we settled onto the couch, Spencer pulled a blanket over us, his arm draped around my shoulders as I rested my head against his chest. The quiet hum of the world outside seemed so far away, replaced by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Spencer?” I asked softly, my voice breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hmm?”

“This is real, right?” I tilted my head to look up at him, my eyes searching his face for any hint of hesitation.

He glanced down at me, his brows furrowing slightly. “Of course it’s real. Why would you think it’s not?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my cheeks flushing. “It just feels… too good to be true.”

Spencer’s hand came up to cradle my face, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek. “It’s real,” he said firmly. “I’m real. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away, focusing instead on the warmth in his gaze. “Promise?”

“I promise,” he said softly, pressing another kiss to my forehead.

And in that moment, with his arms around me and his words echoing in my heart, I believed him.

[crescenthistory]

Totally Just the Fifth and Sixth Wheel

Pairing: Regulus Black x Reader

Summary: Your and Regulus' private study session is interrupted by one Barty Crouch Junior who is inviting you on a triple date. You remind him for the thousandth time, that you aren't dating.

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: not proofread (who's got the time), fem!reader, longing, barty being barty, featuring wolfstar, rosekiller and james, fluff, sitting/half-cuddling without leaving space for god, typical marauders cursing and banter, me attempting to improve my dialogue and comedy, unresolved mutual pining, light discussion of black siblings drama, reader and regulus are teased relentlessly

Note: part two & part three

The Hogwarts Library was always slightly more still and calm on Saturdays, a luxury you made sure to never miss out on.

In a hidden-away corner, you and Regulus sat crammed into the same overstuffed emerald armchair. He sat normally, though slightly squeezed to the left, while you had your back to the right arm, leaning into his side with your legs sprawled across his lap. He evened the score by lolling his head gently against your shoulder as you both tried to focus on the parchment before you. It was an awkward fit – Regulus was all angles and sharp lines – but you never really cared, and neither did he.

"You know, if you had actually studied for Potions last night instead of playing chess with Barty," Regulus began, his voice a teasing whisper, "you wouldn't be stuck relying on me to help you through this essay."

He didn't bother lifting his head as he drawled, so you felt his breath on your skin. His dark hair, always perfectly in place, had fallen just enough to shade his eyes and tickle your neck.

"You're the one who insisted on going over three different ways to brew Amortentia, which, mind you, wasn't even required for this essay," you countered, smiling for no one to see.

He snorted softly. "It was for educational purposes. Not my fault you’re hopeless at memorising–"

"Not hopeless," you interrupted, smirking at him as he sat up straighter and fixed you with those cool, swirly eyes. "Just resourceful. Why bother memorising when I've got you?"

Folded in the crevices of his eyes and your words, there was that gentle push-pull between the two of you, a habit developed over years of being each other's only real reprieve. Your families were pressure cookers, a constant source of demands and expectations, of screaming and fears. It had tethered on explosion many a time, but through your years-long friendship, you had been able to make it a bit lighter together. Regulus had his complicated relationship with Sirius, but other than that, no one really knew how heavy it weighed on the both of you – just each other.

And then there was Barty, of course.

“Oi!” The familiar, obnoxious voice you somehow loved rang through the – thankfully nearly empty – library, making you tense for a split second before you exhaled. “Merlin’s bloody balls, you two are stuck in here again?”

Barty Crouch Jr. strode in, tossing himself onto the sofa opposite you and Regulus. He stretched his long legs out like he owned the place, flinging an arm across the back of the cushion.

“We’re not stuck,” you corrected him lazily, shooting him a glance from beneath your lashes. “We’re enjoying a bit of quiet. Something you might want to as well, seeing as we're in a library, Junior.”

Barty raised an eyebrow and then snorted, “Quiet? More quiet? You two sit in silence more than any couple I’ve ever known.”

You rolled your eyes, but Regulus – who you now, with the added presence, noticed was more tired today than usual – shot him a look that could have frozen hell over. As per usual. Barty, being Barty, didn’t care of course, just snickered for himself. He was the only one who could get away with constantly poking at Regulus, at both of you, with no more than witty quips thrown back. Maybe because he had been the one to pull you out of your shells, dragging you both into the light when you would have otherwise spent your time locked in your shared solitude and messy brains. Or maybe because he had been able to weasel his way into your hearts before you were old enough to realise he's a bit of an arse. By then, he was your arse.

"We're not silent, dear, we just aren't obnoxiously loud," Regulus hinted, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, you do sit around whispering all the time. One would have thought you were spellbound to your books – and each other." Barty grinned, not even a little apologetic. “Or maybe just by each other."

"Oh shut up, Barty," you scoffed, though not without a slight smile.

"I’m just sayin’!”

Regulus leaned back against the chair, his elbow brushing your arm. "You’re always just sayin' something,” he said, eyes flicking toward the fire. “And you’re always wrong."

Barty’s eyes lit up, leaning forward with a grin that could only mean trouble. “Oh, come on, Reg. It’s been years. You two, together all the time, acting like no one else exists. Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t killed each other or, better yet, finally gotten over yourselves and just snogged already."

This has always been Barty’s favourite game, teasing the two of you relentlessly, but it felt more pointedly overt tonight. Yet it didn’t stop the smile from tugging at your lips. Just because he's so very ridiculously wrong, of course.

“We have not–” Regulus began, but Barty cut him off with a wave of his hand. 

“Right, right, you’ve never even thought about it." He makes an, arguably poor, attempt at imitating Regulus' tone. "But let’s be real, everyone else think you're shagging, so maybe you should too– oh, speaking of–" Barty had a poor habit of cutting himself of when a new train of thought entered. "Guess who finally asked Evan out?"

The shift in the conversation barely registered with you; you are very attuned to rolling with the Junior way of conversing, but Regulus shook his head in surprise.

"You? And Rosier?" Regulus asked, staring Barty down with more interest than he had shown the poor sod all evening. "Are you serious?"

Barty gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes, but the grin never left his face. “Took him long enough, didn’t it?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I thought he was avoiding you after that time you hexed him in Transfiguration–”

“Self-defence,” Barty cut in, giving you a wink. “He had it coming.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Didn't he have it coming for trying to ask you out, Barty?”

“Like I said. Self-defence. Son of a witch should let me be the one to make the first move.”

You shook your head fondly, happy for your second-oldest friend. "What a gentleman you are, Barty. Happy for you though, finally the pining and drunken hookups have led to something of sustance."

Barty nodded gravely, in faux seriousness. "Exactly! And that says something, coming from the Queen of pining."

You kicked his shin under the table and he laughed a bit too loudly for the library, evidently pleased with himself.

"I do no such thing, thank you very much."

Glancing sideways at Regulus, his expression was carefully neutral, though you could tell he was happy for Barty. Though, you were sure, he would never say that out loud.

Barty, ever the troublemaker, wasn't finished yet. “Which reminds me,” he said, leaning forward again with that dangerous glint in his eye, “We’re all going out this weekend. You lot, me, Rosier... oh, and your brother too, Reg.”

Regulus stiffened slightly beside you, just enough for you to notice and Barty to ignore. “Sirius?”

“Yep,” Barty said cheerfully, “and his boyfriend, Lupin. They're finally official as well, trying to steal my spotlight it seems.”

You and Regulus share a glance, trying to take it in. Sirius and Remus had been dancing around each other for what felt like ages, but apparently, they had finally made the leap. Regulus' jaw tightened slightly. His relationship with Sirius was still relatively uneasy territory for him, but they were making an effort to heal it together. You moved on from him, focusing your attention on Barty, so Regulus could process undisturbed.

"Since when do you and Big Black keep tabs on each other, let alone plan a double date?" you implored, genuinely confused.

"Well, firstly, Treasure," Barty drawled. "I always keep tabs on my best friends' sometimes-shitty-sometimes-good-always-complicated siblings. Secondly, as I said, they're stealing our spotlight, so of course I got involved."

"Ah, so it's not voluntary?" You quirk a brow at him, jokingly challenging him.

"Is too! The bastards are lucky I even suggested it."

"Riiiiiight," you dragged out, cocking your head at a huffing Barty.

You rolled your eyes laughing, then glanced over at the boy whose lap you were partially sat in. His gaze had trailed off into his lap, thoughts clearly elsewhere. You and Barty made eye contact and he sent you a look that clearly said his involvement with Sirius was for Regulus and not actually to bother him. Over the years, you had developed almost a form of telepathy with Barty, always seeing the aggressive loyalty behind his actions.

You placed a hand instinctively on Regulus' elbow and he seemed to come back down to reality.

"Anyway, the six of us are headed for Hogsmeade next weekend for our triple date. You better schedule us into your shared calendar." Barty went straight back to teasing.

"There is no shared calendar."

"And there is no triple date," you added.

Barty’s grin widened, and he flicked his eyes between you and Regulus. “What do you call a date with three couples? Regulus and Treasure, me and Evan, Sirius and Lupin. That's three. Three Broomsticks, that's a date. Triple date! Or do you prefer French, Reggie, un triple rencard? More romantic for ya?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Regulus beat you to it. “We’re not a couple, Junior, would you just knock it off."

“Well, someone should tell the rest of the castle that, mate,” Barty said, smirking. “Everyone else seems to think you two are already married."

Before you could continue the seemingly never-ending argument with the grinning black-and-green-haired rascal before you, you heard footsteps and chatter approaching. Regulus whispered something in your ear about none of these buffoons respecting the quiet in a library as Sirius, Remus, and James appeared from around the corner. Sirius’s eyes flicked over the three of you, his gaze landing on Regulus, and giving a rather genuine smile.

“Greetings baby brother, sister-in-law and unfortunate acquaintance. What’s this I hear about a triple date?” Sirius asked, sauntering over like he owned the place, ignoring Regulus' groan.

If offended by the less-than-affectionate greeting he received, Barty did not show it as he grinned even more maniacally at what he likely saw as back-up in his torment of you two. "Good afternoon to you too, Big Black, we're just discussing the wedding colours. I am in support of emerald green, and I will listen to no other opinions as I know them best."

"No fair, I've known Reg the longest!"

"I do believe they would look lovely in a red," James teases as the group settles down around the table.

Regulus groaned softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "For the love of–"

"You guys can walk around in whatever colour you'd like – we aren't getting married." You tried to set a stop to the conversation now. The jokes didn't roll as comfortably off you when in larger company. Though you and Remus had become quite good friends through class and you were seeing Regulus through his healing friendship with Sirius, you still weren't entirely accustomed to the bunch up close all at once.

"Well, surely not now, but the day will come and it's never too early to start planning," Sirius quipped, his grin matching Barty's perhaps a bit too much. "I will be best man, yeah?"

"Absolutely not, I will!" Barty butted in before you had the chance to reply.

"Wouldn't you be her best man? Or man of honour or whatever?" James raised an eyebrow, trying to pick up on the dynamic.

"Of course I will."

"Then Padfoot can be Regulus'?"

"I have no idea why you are talking about pads and feet, but no, I will be best man and man of honour thank you very much."

"That's no fair!" Sirius cried.

"Shouldn't this be a decision the lovely couple makes?" Remus chimed in, trying to calm his partner with a smile.

"For Salazar's sake – we are not dating!" You cut the whole conversation off, emphasising your point with hand gesticulations. The table actually went quiet for a moment, the newest additions sharing confused looks.

"What?" was all James could say.

"We are not together," Regulus spoke up for the first time, rolling his eyes in true Regulus-fashion. "We're just close friends."

Barty snorted at that.

Sirius looked absolutely floored for once. His eyes flick between you and Regulus in genuine surprise. “Wait– you're serious? You aren't dating? Since when?”

"Since forever?" Regulus questioned right back at his brother, finding his groove in the sarcastic exchanges. "Can two people not be close without having to be shagging?"

Sirius and Barty both chimed a "no" at the same time, though Barty was finding much more humour in it all than the other. He added, "Well, Treasure and I can. Evan and Reg can. You two on the other hand..."

You felt heat rise to your face, Regulus' leg shaking you slightly as he began to bounce it. "Where did you all even get that from?" you questioned, looking at everyone but Barty. You were well aware of why he thought what he thought.

“I mean–” Sirius spread his hands, gesturing towards how the two of you were sat, as you suddenly became aware that most of your body was touching Regulus' in some way. "Look at you! You’re always together. You act like an old married couple half the time. And you basically let each other get away with murder. I'm still not entirely convinced Trouble here won't kill me if Reggie ever asks."

"Don't call me that."

"I probably would."

Sirius was unaffected by both comments. He look towards James for support, who was nodding emphatically, clearly shocked too.

"Yeah, no, I thought it was just, like, common knowledge that you have been dating for years," James said, raising his hands a little at the look on Regulus' face. "No offence, just how it seems from the outside, 's all."

"Not to mention you look at her like–” Sirius started.

“Like what?” Regulus cut in, his grip on you loosening, just a little.

Sirius blinked, still thoroughly confused. “Like you’re bloody in love with her.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, and out of the corner of your eye, you could see Remus suppressing a smile, engaging in some stare-down with his brother. You worried your voice would fail you, so you just shook your head disapprovingly.

Barty, never one to leave well enough alone, leaned back with a smug grin. “Told you tossers. The whole castle thinks you're dating, so you might as well get on with it."

"Well, we're not and we won't, so can you guys please just shut up." Regulus' jaw was still tight, scouring at his friends as he debated if that term was still one he wanted to use about them.

Sirius just shrugged, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Alright, Reg, whatever you say. But you’re both coming, yeah?”

You turned more into him as you scanned his face for an answer. Regulus held your gaze for a long moment, and you could see the wariness flickering just behind his eyes. You smiled, quirking a brow at him as if to say it's up to you, babe. He sighed and then said a low fine.

With a dramatised sigh, you turned back to Sirius and Barty and their expectant looks. “It’s not a triple date,” you said firmly, lifting your chin just slightly. “But we’ll join you as... I don’t know. Fifth and sixth wheels.”

Regulus grip on you tightened again as he settled back into his seat. “Exactly. Fifth and sixth wheels. Sure.”

Barty threw his head back and barked out a loud, unrestrained and frankly unnecessary laugh. “Sure thing, sweetcheeks,” he teased, grinning from ear to ear. “Whatever you need to tell yourselves. I’ll make sure Rosier knows it’s not a date.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, mumbling some indelicate words under his breath that only you could catch. You stifled a laugh, at which Regulus’ lips twitched – just the slightest hint of amusement given to you.

Sirius, still grinning, clapped his hands together like this was some great victory. “Brilliant. Can’t wait to see you both there. It’ll be... enlightening.”

Remus, who had been watching this whole exchange with thinly veiled amusement, leaned in closer to Sirius and muttered, “Enlightening? You've spent too much time with McGonagall.”

"Yeah, in detention," James muttered, evidently a shared trauma.

Sirius nudged him with his elbow, snickering. “Shut up, Moony.”

"Oi, that's no way to speak to your fresh boyfriend, is it, Black?" you teased, glad to have some revenge.

"Firstly, my darling not-quite-sister-in-law, you may refer to me as Sirius," he drawled with a lazy grin. "Secondly, I'll have you know he enjoys it when I'm a bit rude."

"Did not need to know that," Regulus mumbled with shut eyes as Remus swatted at his boyfriend to get him to behave.

"Anyway. We are happy for you." You smiled warmly, missing the shared glance between Remus and Sirius at your use of we. Regulus hadn't seemed to notice either, used to it.

"You won't be as happy when you have to see them sucking faces at this triple date." James' voice was laced with faux annoyance. You didn't bother correcting his use of the term triple date. Regulus scoffed, but it seemed to be more aimed at the idea of his brother sucking faces with anyone.

"You're just upset Evans isn't willing to suck faces with you yet, Prongs." Sirius' comeback caused a groan from James as his head thumped on the table – clearly he was right.

Barty made an ooooo sound, leaning in closer to poke at James, wanting to know all the hopefully-gory details.

With a tired sigh, you shifted back into the chair, pulling the Potions book from the table onto your lap once more, determined to return to your homework. You still had an essay due tomorrow, and Merlin knew Slughorn wasn’t going to accept any excuses, even from his favourite students. Regulus, sensing the shift in your focus, followed your lead, picking up his quill with a kind of forced determination. Your eyes met and you smiled at each other, back in the comfort of your little bubble, even with the overflowing table.

The chatter around the library became a dull hum as Sirius and Barty went from interrogating James to discussing the specifics of their plans for the weekend with Remus and James chiming in here and there. You didn’t need to listen – Barty would tell you all the ridiculous details later, no doubt with some embellished commentary on how hopelessly “in love” you and Regulus clearly were. He loved pushing his narratives, ever the comic.

But now, as you tried to force your attention back to your notes, the exhaustion that had been creeping up on you all evening settled in. You had barely slept the night before, and after a more exerting conversation than you had prepared for as you entered the library, you were reaching your limit.

Unconsciously, you let your body lean further into Regulus’s side, your shoulder pressing against his more firmly, your head coming to rest against the crook of his neck. It was such a small movement, something you had done hundreds of times before, but it felt more loaded in these surroundings. You could have sworn you felt Regulus' breath hitch. Nevertheless, your body naturally relaxed into his warmth.

Regulus tried to relax his posture to make it more comfortable for you, and let you rest against him without complaint. His quill hovered over the parchment for a moment, forgotten, as he swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the way his heart had started pounding in his chest. It did every time. It didn't seem like you had noticed before, so why worry about it now?

He told himself it didn’t mean anything – he said it a thousand times, you were his best friend. You had always been close like this. But Merlin, if his skin didn’t burn oh so deliciously where you touched him. If his mind didn’t wander to how you smelled, to the warmth of your body pressing against his. If he didn't savour the moment as if it would never happen again, as he felt so damned lucky that he knew it would.

He fought to keep his expression neutral, forcing his gaze back down to his notes, but the words on the page were little more than a blur now. He let his head drop onto yours as he kept rereading the same sentence.

Remus had drifted away from the conversation, eyeing the two of you. The others had – thankfully – moved on by now, but he risked elbowing Sirius slightly to point out how comfortable you two had grown together the second the attention was off you. Sirius had an eyebrow raised, his lips pressed into a thin line, but his eyes were glinting with that same, familiar mischief. Remus shot him a knowing glance, as if to say don’t push it.

Sirius didn’t say anything, knowing Remus was unfortunately right as usual, but the look he gave his brother spoke volumes. Despite what Regulus may want to think, he knew him. And he knew for a fact, that his little brother was in love. He smiled.

Barty and James had begun to bond over some grand plan to prank Evan during the supposed "not-date" this weekend. You had half an ear in the conversation, trying to catch on to whether you should warn Evan beforehand. But none of that really mattered to you at the moment. Not to you and certainly not to Regulus, who was trying desperately not to give in to the warmth spreading through him as your sigh fanned his skin.

You let your eyes drift close, just for a moment, feeling the weight of your pull at your consciousness. Caught somewhere between exhaustion and peace. Regulus noticed immediately and rubbed soothing circles on your back as he began to plot your escape to the dormitories.

You could have stayed like that forever. And maybe, Regulus thought, as his other hand brushed against yours where it rested on the armchair, he wouldn’t have minded if you did.

[rooksamoris]

💞 — 𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒.

💞 — in which professor divus crewel is down bad for his spouse.

💞 — divus crewel x reader

💞 — warnings: none really, just fluff and ace and deuce being ace and deuce.

💞 — around 700 words!! not very long, but yk it came to me when i should have been writing my essay (due tomorrow) since that card came out. ive been hella offline, my cousin had a malwi (yemeni bridal party) yesterday, and the wedding is tomorrow, and my other cousin is in the process of having engagement parties all throughout july--hope you enjoy!

“No way you get bitches,” 

“What was that, Trappola?” Crewel shot a glare at his student who was staring at the picture on his desk.

The picture was of him and his spouse, looking very happy. He looked relaxed in the picture, his arm draped around you while you held his face in your hands and kissed his cheek. The best part was that you were dressed in one of his designs, looking ever so elegant in the fur shawl over your shoulders.

Ace stiffened up and was sent a concerned glance from Deuce, “Uhm, nothing… sir,” he quickly corrected himself.

He could not help it—all the time he spent in Professor Crewel’s class was filled with a certain strictness that he did not think anyone would find appealing. The redhead glanced at the picture again, before back at his professor.

Deuce was sweating, praying to whatever was in the sky that he would not get caught up in whatever trouble Ace would be in. He almost wanted to shake some sense in his dormmate.

Crewel drew the silence out, just for the sake of intimidating his students a little longer before his brows softened. He would not do anything further wreck his mood, not when the love of his life would come over and share lunch with him. He sighed, raising a red gloved hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I’ll let it slide this once, pup.”

The cyan-eyed student visibly slumped in relief.

He handed each of them their corrected worksheets. They both had detailed notes written in the margins on what they could do to improve. He pointed out how Ace could use his skills in Magic Analysis and apply them to Alchemy, and gave Deuce examples that could make more sense to him. He was a strict professor, but that did not mean he was a bad professor. He knew his rowdier dogs could improve—he expected them to. He laid out the resources, they just had to use them.

“Thank you, professor!” exclaimed Deuce, bowing his head in respect as he held the page to his chest. Deep down, he appreciated his professor's willingness to correct his work so thoroughly.

Ace nodded, as if sharing the thanks with Deuce, before following his classmate out.

Things stayed quiet before you burst through the doors, carrying lunch bags with you, wearing that smile he loved so much. Your clothes were a bit of a mess, but when were they not? You were always running about and doing something.

Crewel stood from his seat, a softer grin on his face as he stepped forward, his arms reaching out to adjust your outfit. Gentle hands tugged at the collar and fixed your mixed-up buttons, “Now, I wonder what circus you just returned from,”

You laughed and leaned into his touch, “Just the kitchen, nothing too crazy, Divus. I made raisin butter and homemade bread,” you told him, excitedly.

His thumb brushed over some flour left on your cheek, “I can see that much,” he muttered before he moved to your side and slid his hand down to the small of your back, ��Come sit,” he said, guiding you to the seat across from his desk.

“You saved me from another lunch spent playing chess with Mozus,”

“Oh, come on. You act like spending time with him is a chore,” you replied, reaching into the bags to set the food on the desk for you guys to share.

He carefully moved his things out of the way, before taking his seat as elegantly as ever, “It’s only a chore when he spends thirty minutes deciding on his next move.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, “One day you’ll be just as old and spending thirty minutes buttoning up your vest. When that happens, I’ll remind you of this conversation.”

He let out a little laugh at that. Your joke just affirmed what he always knew, you would be with him forever, even when white became the natural color of his hair, even once his students were visiting him as adults with their own lives, and thanking him for his harshness. He let out a breath of contentment, before carefully cutting the bread you made for him, “How was work, my love?”

[tadc-harlequin-au]

New Puppet Unlocked: Caine, The Puppetmaster!

Caine's character description:

For the longest time, Caine believed that he was the only Puppet left who hasn't gone insane, and has spent living in near complete and total isolation for it (if it weren't for Bubble, his robotic Butler Blimp), drowning himself in booze for what seemed to be the remainder of his days.

That was, until Pomni suddenly arrived at his office out of nowhere and challenged him.

Her sudden appearance, her fierceness in battle and various other reasons, Caine sought to get Pomni to see the dire situation after a stalemate in their duel; That they're the last remnants of sane minds remaining in this forsaken lands and he needs her help for what must be done next, if they are to improve the world's conditions. Thankfully, the Harlequin was not actually cold-hearted, just hot-tempered.

Reinvigorated in his self-assigned purpose, The Puppetmaster now spends his time either indoctrinating reawakened Puppets and teaching them how to become "human" once more, tinkering/inventing new machines, having friendly debates or sparring with Pomni just to satisfy her urge to battle, and various other things.

Though, he still likes to drink.

Fun facts about Caine:

He is a massive drunkard.

He passes out in the most random places if he drinks too much. One of the most outrageous locations Pomni has found him in was at the chandelier on the main lounge, which even he can't remember how he got there.

Caine still acts boisterous and speaks mostly formally; though there are ways you can break his way of speech, the easiest way to do it is to surprise him.

He avoids using swears, says it's a gentleman's code. Though, some get past his mouth on a rare occasion.

He created Bubble out of loneliness, initially just wanting someone to talk to.

In a comedic parallel, he tends to limit Pomni's cravings for battle by holding her sword hostage as much as possible, of course to the Harlequin's frustration.

His second gold tooth on his bottom jaw was a result of his and Pomni's first meeting/duel. She ended up kicking him so hard in her rage, one teeth cracked in half and flew off.

He tends to look at everyone with a positive mindset and the want to see the best in them; although Jax seems to be a rare exception. Still, he lets the automaton be.

Most of his time is spent hanging around in his office. The only time you'll see him outside is if there's a task he needs to attend to, assembling Pomni back together in the cellar, another sparring match with the Harlequin, or when he talks to Z and/or Kingr, since they are both too big for the insides of the mansion.

Like almost every ADHD-person, he is prone to getting distracted easily.

He has a strict "no fighting in the premises" rule; instead, he tells them to literally take it outside (even if it means being on the neighboring lawn), as long as it's not on the INSIDE.

He keeps his shirt opened because he feels discomfort and suffocated when he buttons it up.

He doesn't like to talk about his past.

When asked what's his classification, he'll avoid and switch topics. His rare anger (but eerily-calm way of speech) comes out when you ask about it too much.

He does admit that his entire body was self-modified.

You can hear his arrival in a scene by the sounds of ball joints slightly cracking in place.

Aside from Pomni, he likes Kingr the most, finding the chess piece's presence calming. This has lead to jokes about a bromance happening between the two.

And just like Pomni as well, Caine fixes Kingr the most because the Helpful King tends to use himself as a shield for the Harlequin.

He's rarely seen without his cane.

He HEAVILY dislikes it when Pomni dies. When he is aware that Pomni is at the brink of death, he'll start panicking and telling her to go back and abandon the mission for now, through Bubble.

After Pomni's surprise arrival (and proof that he could still be hunted down if he wasn't careful enough), he took the manor up to the skies to ensure that the manor remains a safe haven.

Quotes:

"Greetings! I am Caine, and I am here to help you. That's all you need to know."

"I think we can arrange that."

"This is not part of the plan!"

"No fighting! Take it outside."

"Perhaps we can reach to a sort of agreement..."

"Hmm... quite intriguing."

"Why, I must say, this is quite the predicament..."

"Will you be mindful of your own sake next time, pretty please?"

"... I don't-... think that's how-... you know what, do whatever you want."

"... Okay, you don't need to go that far."

"You know what this calls for? [...] A CELEBRATION! [...] BUBBLE, TO THE LIQUOR STORAGE"

"You know, I haven't really thought this through enough--"

"BUBBLE! Did you chew through my latest project again?!"

"Oy vey..."

"I am aware of the effect that alcohol has on me. And quite frankly, I don't care."

"Strange, where am I? Who am I? What are we, but mass-produced products catered to extending one's stay on a desolate, abandoned realm? Are we even human anymore, or are we machines that think we're human in order to save ourselves from the pain of a fake existence? Hm? Oh right, I haven't eaten my dinner."

"Must we really resort to this method?"

"Oh, I just fixed that!"

"Apologies, I blanked out for a second. What were we talking about?"

"Bubble here can help you out on your dilemma. Just don't listen to him for any advices. Personally, I think sometimes he can make you jump off a cliff."

"What do you mean "I need to stop drinking"? I'm perfectly fi- *passes out*"

"Am I aware that it is an unhealthy coping mechanism? Yes. Do I plan to stop? Not exactly, there aren't a lot of options left."

"That is outrageous! Me? With her? That's... It's... *sigh* I can't. She'd never."

"May I just say, for once, what the actual fuck."

[lazycats-stuff]

I know the requests are closed, but I have a feeling I will forget if I don't ask. I am a big Formula 1 fan. What about batfam x batbro reader who is not a vigilante, and has been ignored and forgotten by everyone except Alfred and nobody notices that he left for the last few years (some time passed until reader got into F1). One day Alfred receives a package and he opens it in front of the family. Inside the package there is a box and a note that says: "To Alfred, I made it grandpa, I am the champion."

He takes out the box and opens it. Inside the box is a beautiful signed racing helmet. He smiles and the rest of the family is confused, asking him who sent the helmet. Alfred with a smile on his face explains batbro's racing career, from karting to the F1 and how he watches every race. The family immediately takes out their phones and google batbro, only to find that he is the current F1 champion, the youngest ever F1 champion, multiple times F1 champion and has never lost a race, giving him the nickname The Emperor, and that he lives in Italy. They follow him on Instagram, they watch his YouTube channel, they watch the highlights of his races and the skill he has demonstrated, all while Alfred is figuring out where to display the helmet. As the amount of highlights watched increases, so does their guilt, and they research the whole sport - the rules, the drivers, the racing calendar, everything. Finally, they find that the next race is in Italy - Monza (Italian Grand Prix) where batbro lives, and decide to go there with Alfred. They buy the tickets to watch the race from the finish line and sit there (they wanted to buy one to go inside the box and team's garage, but Alfred said no, because they might distract the reader).

At the end of the race (batbro obviously wins as he always destroys the competition, it's not even close), batbro exits the car, does the whole celebration with the champaigne and the trophy, does the short interview, and then Alfred approaches him with the rest of the family. Batbro is very excited to see Alfred and asks him if he got the helmet. Alfred says yes and then points at the rest of the family. Reader is curious and innocently asks Alfred if they are his friends. The guilt multiplies x1000, as Alfred explains who they are, but reader only knows Bruce from TV and somewhat remembers Damian because Damian was an asshole when he lived in the manor, but doesn't remember anyone else (not Dick, Tim, Jason, Duke, Cass or Steph). Reader always thought that Alfred was his legal guardian, because he is the only one reader ever talked to and the only one he ever saw in the manor, aside for Damian.

He takes them through the city, shows them where the best pizza and ice cream is, because he is basically a local, and they watch him talking with the people of the city in perfect Italian, giving them selfies and autographs and the people just loving him. Alfred is talking with batbro, asking him questions about the city and about his life, if he still pushes himself to improve. The family only listens and learns just how amazing their brother is and how much he knows and how much he can do. He is the F1 champion, knows more languages than any of them, has beaten Alfred in chess (none of them ever did that), has been knighted by the King of England, climbed Mt. Everest, and many other amazing things (batbro is basically a much better version of Bruce). He is even friends with the few civilian versions of the Justice League and Ra's Al Ghul (of course, batbro doesn't know who any of them really are).

The more he talks, the more their hearts break. Seeing how happy he is, how he smiles and how much he loves Alfred and doesn't even remember them, they finally break. They ask him to come back with them to the manor, but he says no, because he has a life here. They want to just kidnap him, but Alfred immediately puts a stop to that, and nobody can go against Alfred.

In the end, they settle to just asking him to visit them. Batbro answers maybe when the season is over and if they have everything he needs to keep his body and reflexes in shape (F1 drivers train a lot).

The season finishes, and batbro is once again crowned a champion. He finally goes to the manor and after hanging out with Alfred, the rest of the family just try to love him and get to know him while helping him train and keep in shape. Bruce puts a racing simulator in the manor and everyone challenges batbro, but he simply destroys them (Tim doesn't know if he should be pissed or happy, as he always thought he is the best at videogames). After all the bonding and fluff, it's time for batbro to leave. There is a lot of hugging and Alfred makes batbro promise to visit whenever the season is over. Bruce even decides to sponsor batbro's team, just to see Wayne Enterprises logo on batbro's car.

After that, they never miss a race on TV, and even their respective hero teams watch him race and cheer for him.

I know it's a long ask, but I just had to get this out of my head. Thank you.

Okay so, it's a long one as you all can see. But not a problem. Also, I have no clue about F1. None. Absolutely none. I've heard of reflex training, but anything else is just... Not a clue. So a quick heads up if there are any F1 lovers reading. I'll do research, but still... A heads up... Also, 2.4k words. Enjoy.

Summary: Family forgets about (Y/N). He's now an F1 champion.

Warnings: (Y/N) is forgotten, but Alfred is his biggest supporter, don't worry, everyone else are simply assholes, simply put

Alfred often wondered if (Y/N) has made his dream come true in Formula 1. (Y/N) loved racing more than anything, always playing racing games and when possible, he would watch Formula 1. (Y/N) even had a dream of going to Italy, which he did make true. But racing is a cut throat sport, just like any other. Not a lot of people make it in the that sport. Only a chosen few make it to the big leagues.

But Alfred knew that (Y/N) would make it. Ever since he was a teen, he would go carting whenever he could and Alfred would follow. (Y/N) was talented, that was for sure. When he moved to Italy, for their Grand Prix. Alfred remembers how they always watched the races together, even if it meant that it would be in the middle of the night due to the time difference. But to Alfred, all was worth it, seeing (Y/N) so happy and excited.

When Alfred was outside, he saw the a delivery person coming, driving the truck. Alfred was confused, not expecting a delivery. And none of the family members had ordered anything...

" Alfred Pennyworth? " The delivery man asked, opening his truck.

" Yes, that is me, " Alfred answered, watching the man rummage through his truck before taking out a package.

" This is for you. Please sign here. " The man tapped the tablet and Alfred signed, taking the package and going back inside, putting the box down on the kitchen counter. He looked it over, trying to figure out who sent it to him, but he couldn't figure out it out...

He took a knife and opened it, removing the duct tape. In the package was a box, with a note on top of it. Alfred tilted his head as he took it and read it over.

To Alfred,

I made it grandpa. I'm a champion now.

Love (Y/N).

Alfred took the box out and opened it. It was a beautiful racing helmet, signed with (Y/N)'s signature. Alfred was moved as he gently moved the helmet around, checking it out. Oh, this is going to on his shelf. Absolutely.

" Alfred? What's that? " Bruce asked as he looked away from the TV. That attracted the attention of everyone else, the sight of Alfred holding a racing helmet... That came in a package... That's signed too.

" Where did that helmet come from? " Tim asked, tilting his head as he approached Alfred.

" It came from (Y/N), " Alfred offered a simple explanation, not really caring to elaborate more, instead opting to examine the helmet in more detail.

That now got everyone's attention. (Y/N)? What?

" Wait, it came from (Y/N)? " Jason asked and Alfred nodded.

" He started carting and soon he feel in love with racing. He moved away and started his career. I watch every race, no matter how late or early it is. "

Now that is something that they didn't know. All of them took their phones out and googled (Y/N). And their jaws nearly dropped when they read about him.

(Y/N) Wayne, also known by his nickname Emperor, is champion again. For those who don't know, he got that nickname because he has never lost a single race since he started racing professionally. This championship is his 6th one and he is the youngest champion ever in the history of Formula 1...

They didn't bother to read the rest before going on every singe social media there is. Absolutely every single one there is. They were going to do their jobs as detectives. But suck at their job as a family. Really, really, suck as a family.

They watched all the highlights from the races, watching (Y/N) smile as he won. But more importantly, watching his determination and drive (pun intended) as he drove, focused and clearly in the game and in the control.

While they were watching, they were consumed with guilt. So much guilt. How could they forget that he even existed. How the hell could have they do this? Bruce felt like a failure, no he is a failure. The rest of them felt the same, clearly guilty.

Alfred on the other hand, couldn't give a damn. He moved around, trying to figure out where could he even display it. While he wanted to keep it private, he wanted people to see it... Maybe also teach the others a lesson. Sure, the guilt may be eating them from the inside and out, but, they must reap what they sow. So, he didn't feel sorry for them in the slightest.

Now, where to put this helmet...

After all of that, the family made sure to learn everything there is to learn about F1. Absolutely everything. Rules, important drivers, everything. Not to mention, they bought tickets to go to Italy, to see the races. Apparently, there's a Grand Prix, an Italian Grand Prix. It was in Monza, in Italy, where (Y/N) has also decided to live. And yes, Bruce wanted to get the tickets to see the box and the team's garage.

Alfred has vetoed the idea straight away. (Y/N) really needed to focus on this race, it's a Grand Prix after all. And Alfred wanted (Y/N) to focus. It's game on as the saying goes and right now, (Y/N) needed to make sure that he focused on his race. Sure, him losing is not likely, but still. Just in case.

So, Bruce had to be happy with sitting near the finish line. He watched (Y/N)'s car with out most attention. He watched the way he drove the car, how he showed dominance. Bruce could only imagine how much he had to think, how much he had to determine, make moves on the spot, maneuvers... Bruce had nothing but respect for (Y/N).

They all cheered when he won.

Of course, there was the champagne, where he was essentially wet with it. It was tradition, a funny one at that. (Y/N) was laughing and then smiled, looking at his trophy with a warm smile on his face. To him, this sport isn't about money. It's about racing, something he loves doing the most. Something that his heart is in and something he will do for as long as he can.

(Y/N) did a short interview and once finished, he smiled widely when he saw Alfred. He ran into his arms, making Alfred laugh.

" You came?! " (Y/N) asked excitedly and Alfred nodded.

" I had to see you win this Grand Prix in person, no? " Alfred said and (Y/N) nodded.

" Oh, did you get the helmet? " (Y/N) asked as he cradled his trophy, making sure to hold it more comfortably.

" I have, yes. " Alfred nodded. " Thank you for the gift. I'm so proud of you (Y/N). You did so great. "

(Y/N) smiled, knowing that Alfred meant it. " Thank you Alfred. " He glanced behind Alfred, seeing the rest of the people behind Alfred. " Are these your friends? "

Now that was a hit to the soul. Or below the belt, but it wasn't meant as an insult. It was actually genuine. Really genuine. And that hurt thousand times more rather than some sort of insult.

Alfred explained who they were and (Y/N) genuinely couldn't remember them. Oh, has the family (everyone but Alfred) messed up. Truly and utterly messed up. The bar was already low, but somehow, by some sort of twisted fate the bar has went even lower. Bruce couldn't help all the guilt that has risen up to his heart. And a realization set in heart.

He failed as a father. He failed. No, failure is an understatement. He was essentially going to rot in hell. That's how big this was. Bruce was a complete and utter failure in his humble opinion.

" I thought you were my guardian Alfred. " (Y/N) tilted his head as he said so.

" Well, clearly not (Y/N). "

" Well, I remember Bruce from TV and all and the only sibling I remember is Damian because he was an asshole, " (Y/N) explained and it all made sense to the family. You can't forget someone if that someone is an asshole after all. And this is Damian we are talking about anyhow and he is an asshole anyway.

After the dust and everything settled, (Y/N) has decided to give them a tour of Monza, a city where he now lives. The family has never been to Italy so there was a certain excitement in the air, despite the situation at hand. (Y/N) knew this city like the back of his hand, making sure to know all the spots that have good, local food. Not to mention, Italy has good wine and awesome pizza.

Not to mention, the variety of pasta.

And gelato.

And so the tour has began. Of course, you start with the food places first. Historical sights could come by later. Right now, good food, drinks and a nice walk will do everyone good. Clear heads and all. (Y/N) was stopped a few times and asked for selfies and for some autographs. Of course, (Y/N) took the photos and signed the photos, conversing with the fans in fluent Italian. He acted like a local. Well, he probably a local at this point.

Everyone watched, feeling utterly guilty. Alfred being the exception, of course.

But despite the guilt, Bruce was going to make it right. Would it be right away? No. Would it be easy? No. Would it be hard because it would mean you have to take responsibility for being an asshole and failure? Yes. But is taking responsibility for your actions a green flag and simply a show of maturity?

Also yes.

Watching (Y/N) smile and talk so lively with Alfred... He talked about a lot of different things. He took up hiking, going to some of the most famous mountains and tops, during the time where he takes a a break and can go without some training. He beat Alfred in chess. Alfred Pennyworth. No one in the family did that. Never. He speaks a shit ton of languages. More than the entire family combined. And Bruce, at that moment was struck with a realization that (Y/N) was a far better version of him.

" No? Why? " Bruce asked, perplexed. Why would (Y/N) say no to coming back to the manor? Bruce could give him everything he could need to continue racing.

" My life is here. My friends, heart, passion... And I prefer Italy over USA anyway. "

Okay, now Bruce thought about kidnapping him back to the US. Alfred knew exactly where it was going and he glared at Bruce, telling him with his eyes that if he even thought about doing that, Alfred will have no choice but to unleash his anger. And Alfred is the only reason why the manor is running anyway. And if he were to go onto the offensive, it would be a disaster. Cold War, but worse.

" Well... How about a visit? " Bruce asked, Alfred nodding in approval.

" Once the season is over... But I will need to train too. Drivers train a lot.

" Of course, that won't a problem at all, " Bruce said with a lot of confidence. He knew that he could give (Y/N) the best simulator, the best gym, whatever he asks for, Bruce will do it. No questions asked.

And that's exactly what has happened. Once the season ended and (Y/N) was crowned the champion, (Y/N) came to the manor after a long while... To say the very least. Everyone was just happy that (Y/N) wanted to come. That's all that they could ask for anyway. Bruce made sure to make the best simulator possible. Best simulator race ever, Bruce called it.

He also made sure that he had a place where he could exercise physically.

And they made sure to let (Y/N) know that they loved him and were trying everything to make sure he knew. Of course, not to the point where he was overwhelmed. They made sure to keep their promise of respecting the boundaries that (Y/N) has set. And yes, Bruce has got the best simulators and has made a great area for (Y/N) to train during the off season.

Others challenged him, but (Y/N) was too good. Now, Tim wasn't sure if he was impressed or just straight mad. A mixture of both, Tim would say. It just proved that (Y/N) was truly good and could backup his hype, not to mention skills and dedication to his sport.

Alfred has never been happier. He would cook (Y/N)'s favorites, make sure that everything was taken care of. He missed (Y/N), what can he say? He truly was proud of (Y/N), missed him and promised himself to go to most of his race, live. He swore to it.

But, all good things must come to an end. It was sad to let (Y/N) go, after all, they were trying to repair their relationships, but when the season and races call, there is nothing more they could do. (Y/N) had to go back to Italy. There were so many hugs, kisses and promises. (Y/N) has been happy with the change of their heart and he could see that it was genuine. He saw it was genuine.

And it warmed (Y/N)'s heart.

" (Y/N), you better come back once the season is over. " Bruce said to (Y/N), hugging him yet again, for the probably nth time.

" I will, don't worry. "

" Also, I'm your new sponsor. Having the WE logo on your car sounds great. "

" What, you need the exposure? "

Bruce chuckled and let (Y/N) go to the car where Alfred was waiting to take him to the airport. Once the car went away, Damian checked his phone, letting out a huh.

" I think Ra's paid for first class. "

" I'm not shocked. "

And once the season started again, everyone watched (Y/N)'s races. Including Ra's, who occasionally came. Bruce and Ra's had to agree to a truce during that period of time. But in the end, it was worth it. Even heroes from the Justice League came to support (Y/N) at Bruce's house.

Of course, in civilian versions. They couldn't let Ra's know.

Alfred on the other hand went to (Y/N)'s races live whenever he was able to. And he would make sure that Bruce foots the bill. Bruce is more than able to afford it.

[bunnwich]

im so happy that attachment worked! im glad u like the gift, bunny (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

if it's alright with you, i'd love your take again on what conflicts one would have if they were dating leona. after all, relationships aren't perfect and im assuming in the beginning, lots of things could be difficult to manage.

im under the impression leona isn't used to compromising. he's more used to people adjusting for him than the other way around. at least at the start. what other conflicts do you think could arise and how will you get past them?

thank you again, bunn! (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠) have a great day!

Conflicts When Dating Leona

Hi friend! YES, THIS IS A REALLY INTERESTING QUESTION. First off, I think irl most people have emotional baggage based on trauma, how they grew up, and often, unfortunately, this can get projected onto a partner in their lowest moments. 

I think that there could be some smaller issues that would arise when dating Leona, but I think that depends on what a person can tolerate in a relationship in general, and what each individual can vibe with. We ALL have imperfections, and often in long-term relationships, it comes down to finding someone whose flaws are compatible with your own and being able to balance and nurture each other in healthy ways. Also letting the other person have “ugly” moments and still being able to love them.

Here are a few things I think might come up in a relationship with Leona that could be hard to deal with.

1.) Messy Lifestyle: 

I think Leona is used to others cleaning up after him and making his own meals. It’s not that I think he couldn't do it himself, I think he just chooses not to learn bc of his privilege and the acceptance that his life will "always be like this", so “what’s the point.” He lacks the motivation to improve his life. Half of it, I think, is depression, and the other is…he's just a brat. He's a spoiled rich kid.

So a S/O who comes from a poor or humble background (like Ruggie) or someone with a strict routine (Like Vil)  wouldn't be able to tolerate something like this. I think there's a difference between “dirty” and “messy” and I don’t think he's unhygienic (contrary to old fandom HCs), BUT he IS messy. He’s a complicated man, I think he both cares little about his appearance and cares a lot. Obviously he cares little about wrinkles and buttons, BUT he cares enough to braid his hair and wear flashy jewelry. Though I suppose the fact that he has a deal with Ruggie to care for him and his room, he at least has some standards. He’s a prince!

I do wanna believe (at least in my timeline with Yuu) that Leona learns to live more of a humble life and bonds with the common folk of his kingdom as he takes a job in the community. (Maybe one day he’ll figure out the microwave.)

2.) He Has Toneal Issues/He’s Bossy:

 I think while it may not come from a bad place, Leona tends to think he knows best for everyone. I think he tends to view everything as “big picture”, a chess board, if you will. And he feels as tho he sees everyone clearly (He doesn't), but he feels he does so sometimes while “trying to help you improve” or “giving you advice.” I can see him being a pushy or a know-it-all. And even if coming from a place of “I see your potential and I just want you to be better”, for someone who is more…sensitive, this could be an issue. I can see him having issues sugarcoating things or always using a “nice” tone. It's not that he can't, he just doesn’t mostly. Now, as his S/O I think he is softer on you, but when he gets too stuck in the “mentor Leona” mindset, I can see him being a bit too harsh.

3.) He HATES Being Ignored/Not Listened To:

To kind of go hand in hand with my above point, I think Leona feels as though important people in the past have ignored or not listened to him. And if he feels as though you don't trust, listen or respect him, I can see him getting hung up if in a bad way, OR projecting this past pain onto a partner. Again, this wouldn’t be all the time bc I choose to believe Leona is a self-aware person. Based on the reflections we’ve seen in Chapter 2 light novel and his Chapter 7 dream. HE KNOWS HE'S KINDA A MESS. But, if he feels as though he’s not receiving “adequate attention,” I can see him being a bit clingy or overbearing. We ALL have insecurities, and I firmly believe that nurturing each other’s inner child in a relationship can be key, so making sure he feels like he takes a high precedence in your life is very important to him, considering how highly he would think of you. 

4.) Letting Him Be Right (Sometimes):

Futhermore, Leona is VERY opinionated and I think that while he needs a strong personality to square up with him, you might need to pick your battles and let him take that mentor role he loves so much. He’s got a bit of an ego, and I think he values his intelligence and thrives on the idea of being a caretaker and giving advice. So when he sees others take his advice and “need” him, he feels valued and validated. I do firmly believe in caretaker Leona. He’s smart enough to know when you got this and when to step back. He loves that you're independent! (He wouldn’t choose you if you weren't tough.) BUT, he does like to be needed by you. And if he’s having a low point, I can see this popping up from time to time as a point of frustration for him.

5.) Mood Swings/Clinginess

I do think that once he is invested in someone, all of his insecurities about being needed and wanted will surface. He wants to feel acknowledged by you, to be reassured that you love him. You DON’T have to worship the ground he walks on, but since you would be one of the closest, if not the closest to him, that can be a heavy burden to bare. He can be moody and will need reassurance, even if he doesn’t know how to ask, but he acknowledges himself in Chapter 7 that he “craves attention” more than most. This sort of codependency could be too much for someone who is easily overwhelmed.

Leona’s got Flaws, but He’d Never Stop Trying Being the Best For You.

I think it is a bit of a taboo subject in a way, but dating/marrying someone with deep trauma or a mental illness is NOT always easy. They can sometimes act in ways that are unfair to you based on their trauma, and working out a healthy balance can be hard. I like to read Leona as mature and self-aware, and so I think with time and patience, he would learn how to balance his emotions and keep himself in check with his partner. He’s used to being alone, so it might take a little getting used to. Even so, he’d always apologize (despite what people think). A serious relationship would be all-encompassing to him, and he considers you a “team.” I do think that through disagreements and even fights, Leona would be surprisingly easy to talk to after or through it. He’s logical and empathetic in his own right. 

I think that when ppl “give Leona” flaws, they usually go the “he's aloof.” or “he cares but he's never says I love you out loud" route. And meh, I just don't believe in a SERIOUS established relationship, Leona would be “low-key.” about anything. It would be very apparent how much he loves you. He would never want you to feel how he did. Contrary to popular HC, I don't believe he would have an issue saying how much he loves you either. He's just a bit of a grump and can be a handful. “Mm, I'm sorry. Truly. You know your Lion loves ya.”

That's just what I think anyway, and what I HC! Thank you for your ask!! This was a really interesting one to unpack! I love the subject of imperfect love and relationships bc I feel like it's such a nuanced subject that isn’t brought up a lot. AND THANK YOU AGAIN FOR YOUR ART I LOVE IT SM! 💚💚💚

[facingdeath]

My little sister Hiba

A smart and cheerful child girl turned by the genocide into a frightened child suffering from constant loss, far from her father.

vetted by @gaza-evacuation-funds @nabulsi

Give her attention, she deserves to be listened and helped, read the story below! 👇

she may no longer be a little girl in this genocide, but without a doubt she left our house when she was young, never understanding what was going on around us.

but now she has grown up a lot, and has known a lot, she has known loss, displacement, hunger, thirst and separation.

What hurts us all the most is my father’s separation from her at this age.

Not a night passed during these long months without her crying, wishing for my father to return, fearing for him sometimes and fearing for us sometimes.

Nothing can console her little heart that has only grown in this genocide.

Here she is trying to entertain herself a little playing chess with her friend.

Give her a kind comments please,I want to tell her your comments.

Heba needs to:

evacuate Gaza and this genocide with us

continue her life safely

gathering with her family and meet our father in Egypt

playing safely with her friends

complete her education

Please help us, SHARE or DONATE

(Any donations how much is small it will make a difference in our life)

Campaign link

You can also donate here to improve our quality of life in the tent.

Direct donation link by PayPal

@what-is-my-aesthetic @tenaflyvipers @ifihadaworldofmyown @justice-for-jacob-marley @neil-gaiman @nabulsi @vakarians-babe @ibtisams @palestinegenocide @plomegranate @palestinegrill-blog @gazavettersalt @patrik-star @gentlemanuniverse