#i refuse to believe he'd call him son and would call him ANYTHING else

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 20 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: It was killing Bradley that you thought he was sneaking around behind your back. There was nobody else for him except his Princess, but he'd run out of chances with you. When you decide to go out for the night to blow off some steam, you end up drunk with a ripped dress and nobody to turn to.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, drinking, non consensual touching, and age gap (18+)

Length: 5300 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

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Bradley was calling out for you and Noah, but you were crying in earnest now as he stormed around his house looking for you. Noah seemed to be all cried out, but your tears were showing now signs of stopping.

"Princess!" he shouted, and when he entered the bathroom, he asked, "Baby, what's going on?"

Noah was calling out for him, but you were so angry, you couldn't contain yourself. "I can't believe you lied to me again," you managed to say. "I can't believe I let you lie to me again." 

You'd given him a second chance, but you never should have. Because now you were in love with both of them, and this hurt so much more than it would have if you had walked away after Noah's birthday party. 

You pushed his hand away when he reached for you.

"Princess, Baby, I can explain. I swear, nothing is going on."

You shook your head and wiped your tears away, because Noah was the most important thing at the moment. "He has a fever," you whispered, refusing to meet Bradley's eyes. "He's been crying for you, and I can't find a thermometer. I gave him some Tylenol." 

When Bradley looked past you to his son, you ducked out into the hallway. But before you could really go anywhere, Bradley's big hand had you by the waist.

"We need to talk," he rasped softly, pulling you a little closer.

"There's nothing to talk about," you replied, finally looking up at him. "You lied to me. Again. You told me I meant something to you. You said there was nobody else." Your voice was barely a whisper as you watched his face. How he managed to look so sincere while he lied was beyond your comprehension.

"It's not like that. Nothing is going on. I promise, Princess," he said, voice steady and eyes unwavering. "There's only you."

You wanted more than anything to believe him. You wanted to end this night in his arms. You started to melt into his touch, practically begging for him to explain this to you, but then movement caught your eye. When you glanced into the living room, there was another woman standing next to the couch, holding a bouquet of beautiful flowers.

You had to press your lips together for a few seconds until you had yourself under control. Then you looked Bradley in the eye and said, "Fuck you."

Quickly, you spun out of his grasp and ran back to the bathtub where Noah was still sitting. As you knelt down on the mat, he reached out for you. You knew you weren't going to be able to see him again.

"Sweet Noah," you whispered as you wrapped your arms around him. You kissed his forehead a few times while you sobbed, and he got your shirt all wet. "You'll feel better by tomorrow, I'm sure. Your dad will take care of you, okay?"

"Okay," he said, his voice soft and sleepy.

You could barely see him through your tears as you kissed his cheek and told him, "I love you."

Then you were back on your feet and shoving Bradley out of the way. But he followed you out into the living room where the woman you assumed was Helen stood with her pretty flowers and her tiny dress. You glared at her as she smiled at you when you reached for your tote bag.

"Princess, please, just let me explain!" Bradley was begging now. He could beg all night long, but it didn't mean you had to stay and listen to it this time. You'd found his begging routine so sexy before. But now he could fucking beg Helen for all you cared.

You wrenched open his front door before you turned back and hissed, "Leave me alone. Lose my number. And go take care of Noah." 

But he followed you out to your car, right at your heels. "Baby, it's all a misunderstanding. Please! I need you!"

"What do you need me for? An easy lay?" you asked as you practically dove for your car. "I don't have anything Helen doesn't have."

"Listen to me!"

"No!" you shouted. "Go take care of Noah!"

And then you climbed into your car and pulled out of his driveway as Bradley stood there with his hands raking through his hair. And you made it to the end of his block before your body was shaking as you cried. 

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

Bradley watched you drive away from him, still in shock over everything that was happening right now. He reached for his car keys in his pocket, but your words started to penetrate his brain. 

"Shit," he groaned, running back up to the front door. According to you, Noah had a fever, and he couldn't just leave him alone. Bradley sprinted past Helen and back into the bathroom where Noah was sitting in the tub.

"Come here, bub," Bradley whispered, scooping him out and wrapping him up tight in a towel. "Are you okay?"

"Where did she go?" Noah asked, eyes wide and concerned. "I want her to come rub my back."

Bradley swallowed hard. "She left."

Noah burst into tears as Bradley held him tight. "I want Princess! I want her to be my mommy!"

Bradley could barely breathe as he crossed the hall to Noah's bedroom. He knew how attached his son had become to you. Noah loved you. And he knew you loved Noah. That feeling was overpowering for Bradley, too. When he said he needed you, he meant it. His heart was demanding he be near you.

He froze just outside Noah's bedroom door before turning to the living room. Helen looked at him like the picture of innocence, clutching your flowers in front of her. 

Bradley's voice shook with a combination of sadness and rage. "Helen. You need to leave."

She looked at Noah all bundled in a towel and then back to Bradley. "Can't you drive me home?"

"No," he replied immediately, his voice now rough with unshed tears. "You need to be gone by the time I walk back out here. And leave the flowers."

He turned and took Noah into his bedroom and gently changed him into some pajamas. When Bradley kissed his forehead, he could tell Noah still had a slight fever, but the Tylenol must have helped. "Snuggle in under the covers," he whispered before heading for his own bedroom where the thermometer was. He took it back to Noah and found that he had a low fever. 

But Noah was already dozing off. It was late now, and as soon as Bradley was walking into the hallway, he reached for his phone. He tapped on Babysitter in his contacts, wishing he'd changed it to your name before Helen saw it at the restaurant. 

Thankfully, when he looked around the living room and kitchen, Helen appeared to be gone. He groaned as your phone rang until it took him to your voicemail message. The sound of your voice telling him to leave you a message had him sinking down onto the couch next to the bouquet of flowers that were meant for you.

"Princess, please. Please call me back. Nothing is going on with Helen. Nothing is going on with anyone. There's just you. I didn't know she was going to be at the restaurant tonight," he said, pausing before he softly added, "and these flowers are for you. Please."

Then he ended the call and let his phone drop to the floor. He just looked at it on his area rug. He knew he had been on his very last chance with you. You were kind and generous, and he wasn't even sure he deserved as much as you were giving him. But nothing was going on with Helen. You owned his heart.

His gaze was transfixed on his phone screen, praying he'd see it light up. But he got nothing. Eventually he stood and picked it up, trying your phone again and again, leaving you more voicemail messages. He couldn't even keep track of what he was saying to you, only certain that he was begging you to call him back. And then your inbox was full. So he texted you while he walked into his bedroom and collapsed on his bed. And there hung your purple crown on his bedpost.

When he finally fell asleep in his clothes, he'd heard nothing from you, and he was afraid he never would.

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

When you got home, you got right in the shower, needing to scrub the disgusting feeling from your skin. Bradley was a liar. Your hands were shaking as you tried to wash yourself. You were in love with a man who lied to you. And you were in love with his sweet son, too. You loved how it felt being at their house. You loved his stupid mugs and his coffee maker and when he bought fancy creamer for you. You loved making construction paper crowns and eating popcorn. You loved how it felt like Bradley was making love to you when you and he were on his living room floor.

You'd probably never stop crying. What was wrong with you? He was twelve years older and clearly emotionally unavailable. He was a mess, fighting for custody of his child. He was a walking red flag. And you still loved him.

When you plugged your phone in to charge it, you had to put it on the Do Not Disturb setting, because Bradley couldn't take a hint. You were not ready to talk to him right now. You might never be. 

Once you managed to sleep, your dreams were consumed by him. You could still hear his voice and feel his body heat when you woke up in bed alone. And you were just as angry with yourself the next morning. You should have been smart enough to keep all of your feelings at surface level. Then you could have enjoyed a physical relationship with Bradley until he found someone else to mess with on the dating app. Wasn't that what he seemed to want from the beginning? When he'd kissed you when he was drunk? When you gave him a blowjob on his couch? 

But you had to go ahead and want him all to yourself. You wanted the coffee cups with Princess scrawled across them. You wanted to feel his lips on your fingers while you fed him Skittles. You wanted his body weight pressed against you and his mouth on your skin. You wanted him to beg for you. 

You cried as you brushed your teeth and changed into your scrubs for class. When you picked up your phone, you were tempted to switch it out of Do Not Disturb mode, but you were too afraid to see if he was still trying to text or call. You weren't sure if you wanted him to or not. It didn't matter. You were so close to graduating. You could spend all of your time focusing on your final few assignments and then job hunting. You didn't even need to stay in San Diego. You could go anywhere. And then you cried some more as you tried to drink your shitty coffee, because you remembered you wouldn't be seeing Noah anymore. 

"Fuck," you sobbed, trying to wipe away your tears as you packed up your tote bag for class. And there was Bradley's house key that he had insisted you take again last night. Why the hell did he bother giving that back to you when he was messing around with someone else? And why did you agree to wait for him in the first place? There had never been an official label on whatever you and he were, so you really had no right to be this upset.

You put your textbooks in your bag without bothering to remove the key. You just didn't even want to touch it. And then you opened your front door to leave for campus. And there he stood.

"Princess."

Without meeting his eyes, you kept your chin held high. You squeezed out onto your small porch and locked your front door, fighting hard to keep the tears at bay. 

"Baby."

Then you reached into your tote bag until your fingers found his house key. You held it out to him, but he didn't take it. Then you noticed that the pretty bouquet of flowers you had seen last night was in his hand. 

"I don't need this anymore," you said as loudly as you could. Your voice was shaking, and you sounded like a child. He didn't take the key. "Take it!"

"That's yours. I don't want it back," he said, deep voice steady as you met his eyes. "I want you to keep using it."

Tears fell from your eyes as you spat, "For what? So I can walk in on you and Helen? How many others are there?"

"There's just you." He'd been saying that since last night. "There's only ever going to be you. Please, Princess. Just hear me out, baby."

But you cut him off and headed to your car. "I would have waited for you, no matter how long things took with Meredith. But I don't have time for this. I need to get to class."

He looked like you had hit him. "I can come back this evening," he said frantically, following right behind you. "Or you can use that key to my house and come by any time you're free. I'm begging you."

"I'm sick of your begging!" you said, no longer caring that he could see you crying. "I'm tired of your lies, too! Just take your damn key, and stay out of my life." You tossed it in the general vicinity of his chest and then heard it clatter against the pavement as you climbed into your car. 

He could stand on your sidewalk with those flowers all day long for all you cared. You drove to class and thought that perhaps you needed to find something to distract yourself for the weekend. 

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

Bradley bent to pick up his house key and took it back to your porch along with the flowers that had always been meant for you. Noah's fever had broken overnight, and after dropping him off at daycare, Bradley drove right to you. He didn't stop for coffee. He wasn't going to stop for anything. 

You thought he wanted Helen. The idea of it made him sick. He knew what you must be thinking right now. He'd made so many promises to you. Small ones and big ones. He told you he wanted you to feed him Skittles. He told you he wanted to be with you. He'd said everything in between. 

He set the flowers down on your mat along with the key. And then he prayed that you'd give him even three minutes to explain himself. But he could see that from your perspective, he probably didn't even deserve that.

"Fuck," he muttered, raking his fingers through his hair as he walked back to the Bronco. He needed to get to work. 

Upon arriving, he walked right over to Nat. "Why do you look like that?" she asked cautiously. "You were happy when I saw you last night. Did you see Meredith again?"

Bradley started laughing which made her look at him with even more concern. "I fucking wish, Nat. I wish that was all that I was dealing with right now."

"I literally saw you like twelve hours ago!" she said with alarm. And her eyes grew wide as Bradley told her about Helen waiting for him at the restaurant. "Penny had no right to do that to you! I'd be pissed too!"

"Oh, that's not even half of it." 

When he told her all about Noah and you and how it looked like he was sneaking around behind your back, Nat gasped. "No! But you love her. You would never."

He pressed his lips together and looked down at his boots. "Yeah, well... it certainly looks like that's what I was doing. And she's never going to forgive me now. Not after the last time when I tried to cut her off."

"Bradley," Nat said, patting his chest. 

"I went to her place this morning, after I dropped Noah off. She won't listen to anything I have to say." He could hear Maverick calling for them to head to their aircrafts. "She wants no part of me now."

Nat grabbed her helmet and his. "She probably just needs a day to cool off. Give her some time, and I think she'll listen to you." 

She handed his helmet to him, but Bradley stood in the hangar alone for a minute after everyone else cleared out. The last thing he wanted at the moment was to have to talk to Jake or anybody else. Like a dumbass, he checked his phone to see if you had texted him. Of course there was nothing. So he headed to his Super Hornet and ended up flying like shit.

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

After class on Friday, you went right home. A few of your friends had asked if you had any weekend plans. You tentatively told them that you were free, and they invited you to an off campus frat party Saturday night. But it was at a house that was associated with Greyson's fraternity. And you were a grad student now. And it wasn't really your scene. 

But you needed to keep yourself occupied. "Sure," you said eventually, agreeing to let your friend Lexi and her boyfriend give you a ride. At least this way, you could have a few drinks and know you'd have a reliable ride home. 

When you pulled down your street, you half expected to see the Bronco in front of your house. You weren't sure if you were relieved or upset by its absence. "You're pathetic," you whispered as you parked your car. Bradley's house key and those stupid flowers were waiting for you. He made it so you couldn't even get into your house without a physical reminder of what he did.

You kind of wanted to hear him out. Listen to the dumb excuse he made up. So you went inside with the flowers and the key and sat at your kitchen table. You read all of the texts he'd sent you. He must have had his phone on him all day at work, pleading with you to let him stop over, asking for three minutes of your time. Then you listened to the voicemails. And you really shouldn't have. Because that man's voice was like a weapon. It struck you so hard, you had to delete them before they made you feel any weaker. 

And then he called again while you were trying to delete the messages, and you almost accidentally answered his call. You'd had enough. You could no longer tell if you were more angry or hurt, so you went upstairs, took a bath and then got in bed for the night. 

But the texts and calls didn't stop. He was still contacting you on Saturday. You spent hours getting ready to go out to the house party, and even you thought you looked pretty flawless. But there were more texts from Bradley, so you finally wrote back to him. 

Please stop.

And then he did. You got in the back seat of the car when Lexi and Scott picked you up. And you rode all the way to the party with a phone that was finally silent. 

But the party was so loud, you regretted going as soon as you showed up. And you could feel eyes on you, on the bare skin of your legs. Your dress was short, one you had been saving to wear to Bradley's house. One you had hoped he would have been taking off of you. 

Then you saw Greyson, and his eyes were already on your body. You knew there was a good chance he'd be here tonight, surrounded by his idiot friends. And then it struck you how much you preferred spending time with Bradley and Noah, making dinner and coloring, listening to playlists and eating Skittles. 

"Hey," you managed to say when he made his way over to you. Silently you wondered if Bradley ever returned that hoodie to him. 

"What's up?" Greyson replied, licking his lips and letting his eyes dip down to your chest. "I'm surprised you're here."

"Me too, honestly," you muttered, knowing he probably wouldn't be able to hear you over the music. 

"Want a drink?" he asked as his friends made their way over to you. 

"I can get it myself," you replied, squeezing through the crowd toward the kitchen and the kegs. You poured yourself a beer as Greyson's friend Ryan bumped into you. When his hand lingered on your waist, you knew it was intentional.

"Hey, sorry about that," he said with an obnoxious laugh. He was huge. Almost as big as Bradley. If he kept working out, he'd get there someday. But you'd never liked him.

"No problem," you said, scooting out of the way, wondering where Lexi had gone. You circled back through the living room and ran into her and a few other nursing majors you knew from your classes. They all seemed surprised to see you, and you realized they must come here every Saturday.

You chugged your beer so you didn't have to interact much. Somehow you felt above all of this. Like your time spent watching Noah made you want to be here even less than before. You were already uncomfortable, and when one of them asked if you were dating anyone, you felt tears behind your eyes. 

"No," you replied, holding your empty cup. "I haven't dated anyone since Greyson." It hurt your heart to say it out loud. "Hey, I'm going to get another beer."

The girls ended up following you to the kitchen where you chugged beer after beer and pretended to be absorbed by what they were saying. And with each passing drink, you started to feel a little calmer, a little looser. You made a few jokes about your professors, and you started to feel more comfortable. 

You were swaying on your feet a little bit, laughter bubbling out of you as you filled your cup up one more time. But Ryan was there again, and you heard someone whispering in your ear. 

"Try some of the punch." You turned to see another one of Greyson's friends. You thought his name was Ollie. 

"What's in it?" you asked him, and he smirked at you. 

But Lexi was pouring some for herself. "It's good! It's like a rum punch!"

"Okay," you mumbled, and she thrust a very full cup into your left hand. You alternated taking sips of the beer and the hot pink fruit punch. And as soon as you got to the bottom of both cups, you felt like you were on a cloud. Or maybe you were a cloud. Your body was soft. Your lips were numb. There was something you'd been trying not to think about. What was it again? Hmmm...

Oh yeah, you were trying not to think about Bradley. 

You laughed as Ryan placed his hand on your bare shoulder. "Let me refill that," he said. His voice echoed in your head, and instead of a normal response you giggled. And then you couldn't stop laughing. Because everything was funny. Lexi was sneaking off with her boyfriend, and Ollie was touching your hair. 

"Oh!" you sighed when you saw Greyson walk back into the kitchen. "I know you!"

"Jesus," he said with a laugh. "How much have you had to drink? You've only been here for like three hours."

You'd been here for three hours? It felt like thirty minutes. You opened up your little clutch and checked your phone. It was almost eleven, and you had no new texts. But your vision was a mess. You stumbled again, nearly spilling the cup of punch when Ryan handed it to you.

"I don't know," you told Greyson. "I don't know how much I've had to drink." Then you laughed some more.

He shook his head at you. "You were never this fun when we were together."

"Shut up," you told him with a soft hiccup.

"Yeah, Grey," Ollie taunted, "shut up!" You couldn't tell if he was making fun of you or making fun of Greyson. But you still found it hilarious. 

"Where did the girls go?" you asked after a minute. The room was swirling, and you thought you were alone in the kitchen with the guys, but you honestly weren't sure. Your stomach was starting to hurt from how much you'd had to drink. A few people filtered in to get more beer, and you couldn't tell if you recognized any of them or not.

"I'll go look for your friends," Ryan promised. "Just drink this while you wait." He handed you another drink, but he didn't leave. You sipped it while he watched you, and then your stomach lurched. 

Your whole body felt too hot. Suddenly your fingers could barely even hold the cup. You turned toward the guys, and it felt like you were moving in slow motion. As many times as you licked your lips, it still felt like your mouth was dry. So you sipped some more of the punch, and then you tried to hand it back to Ryan or Greyson. 

"Is it really rum?" you asked, your words unclear even to your own ears. "Did you drug me?"

There were more guys here now too. You thought. You weren't sure. Ryan exploded in loud laughter followed by Ollie.

"Listen babydoll, it's just grain alcohol. Not rum," Ryan informed you, and you desperately tried to remember how many cups you drank. That stuff was 80 proof, and now you could barely control your own body. They were all laughing at you, including Greyson as Ryan started talking again. "You think I'd waste drugs on you girls? That's hilarious. You're all easy. You all put out. I've slept with most of the girls at this party."

You couldn't swallow right. Your throat was burning with mortification as you tried to walk over to Greyson for help. But somehow you ended up with Ollie, and you weren't even in the kitchen anymore. 

"Where's Greyson?" you asked, feeling hands on your waist and your butt.

"He's right there," Ollie replied, and you turned to see Greyson dancing with someone else. "If you want some, I got weed and shit upstairs in my room."

"Grey!" you called out. He turned toward you and Ollie.

"What?" he asked over the music.

But when he came a little closer, you couldn't remember what you wanted to tell him. And then Ollie had a hand on you and Ryan had a hand on you. And then Ollie was talking to Greyson. 

"Hey, I'm going for it, man. You don't care? You still hooking up with her?" 

He was talking about you. Right in front of you. But you couldn't even tell him to stop it. You licked your lips again. So dry. You couldn't even talk as tears stung your eyes and your throat got tight. 

And then Greyson glanced at you before he said, "Nah, not anymore. I know she was fucking some older guy, but I guess he got sick of her shit too." Then he turned away from you, and you stumbled backwards. 

"Hey, it's okay, babydoll," Ollie said, guiding you closer to him. You were pressed against his body. He smelled like sweat, and you could feel that he was hard through his jeans. 

Your body wasn't working right. You tilted your head away from him, but then his mouth was on your neck and then your lips. His hand slid up to your breasts, and you wanted to die. "No," you begged. "Don't touch me."

When he reached for your shoulder and slid his fingers under the strap of your dress, you stepped back again. He ripped your dress. It was hanging awkwardly off one shoulder now, and you were holding your clutch so tight, trying not to lose your phone. 

"Don't touch me." You were met with more laughter. You wanted to throw up. "Where's the bathroom?" you asked loudly. 

"Upstairs," Ryan replied, and you raced for the steps. "I can show you."

"Don't be scared! I'll meet you in my room!" Ollie called after you. 

Bathroom. You need to find a bathroom. Then you could figure out what to do. But there were a handful of people in the hallway upstairs, and when you opened a door, you found yourself in a dark bedroom. 

"Hello?" you called out as you searched for a lightswitch. You tripped and landed hard on your knee. "Fuck." When you stood up, you found a lamp. The room was empty. Your knee was bleeding and the rip in your dress was so bad, you had to hold it in place so your breast wasn't visible. The room was spinning, and suddenly you couldn't catch your breath. You needed to get out of this house, but you didn't know what to do to make that happen. 

Then you were afraid this might be Ollie's room. The guys would come look for you. You could call Lexi. When you looked at your phone screen, all the app icons were blurred together, and you started crying. 

Bradley was at the top of your recent calls, and you let your finger tap his name as your eyes settled on the bedroom closet.

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

A day or two to calm down. That's what Nat told him you needed. But as Bradley eased himself into his bed, he had to fight the urge to text you again. You explicitly asked him to stop contacting you. He sighed and tossed his phone aside. He just wanted to see you, talk to you for a couple minutes. He missed you so much. He could explain this to you. He'd tell you how much he loved you. He'd remind you there was nobody else for him. 

The longer he spent away from you and out of contact with you, the worse he felt. It was early yesterday morning that you were yelling at him in front of your house, and with each passing hour, he was getting more desperate. 

Maybe this was it. Maybe he had run out of chances with you. You were too good for him. Too young. Too perfect. He wasn't sure he'd even be able to make you happy long term. Not as happy as you made him. But it was fucking killing him that you thought he went out on a date with another woman. 

Jake had been right the whole time; Bradley should have put you on display for the whole world to see. But now he had missed out again. Because of Meredith. Because of Helen. Because he was always hesitating. 

When his phone rang, he jolted upright in bed. 

Babysitter

You were calling him. It was you. It was nearly midnight, but it was you.

"Princess," he said as soon as he accepted the call. "Baby."

But he was met with the sound of you crying. "Bradley?" Your voice was soft, and you didn't sound quite right to him. He was up and out of the bed immediately. 

"What's wrong, Princess?" he asked, heart pounding in his chest as you continued to cry. 

"I know you're probably on a date with Helen," you said, words slurring a bit as he held the phone tight to his ear. "But I didn't know who else to call, Daddy."

"Baby. Tell me what's wrong," he demanded, his panic rising. 

When you just cried more, he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. 

"Please come get me."

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Hurry, Daddy! Go get your Princess! Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

PART 21

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[summerblueringo]

I was watching this interview with Felipe Massa, and here is some trivia about Kimi:

Felipe says Kimi is one of the strangest guys he’s ever met, but that he was a very fair and honest teammate. He wasn’t the type to insist on having things his way, and they could move on easily from any situation.

A big reason why Felipe thought Kimi was strange is that while he was usually quiet and spoke very little, after two glasses of anything he would become extremely chatty and touchy-feely, to the point that you’d have to shut him up if you wanted to get a word in! To quote Felipe: “It happened a lot of times, after a race, seeing him at night at a party and he, damn, he’d stick to you and wouldn’t stop hugging you and talking and telling stories and talking and talking and talking! And you’d be like, ‘Dude, let me talk too!’”

In a separate interview he says that when Kimi joined Ferrari, Jean Todt told him that he could drink if he wanted, but that he didn’t want to read tabloid stories about him falling down drunk in clubs like at McLaren. According to Felipe, Kimi respected that request and the team and no such stories were heard during his time there.

During January 2008 at Madonna di Campiglio, Kimi arrived to dinner a little tipsy, and continued drinking there. Michael Schumacher was also there at the same table (full of F1 and MotoGP drivers), wearing boots, leather trousers and a big metal belt buckle that made him look "like a cowboy" in Felipe's own words. A drunk Kimi decided to mess with him and started calling him “Texas Ranger.” At first Michael ignored him, but eventually pretended to find it funny because everyone else was laughing.

That same night, presumably after the dinner, Kimi cut the queue for the cable car. The trip down the snowy mountain took about ten minutes, and at the end he got out of it… naked. In negative 5/6 degrees Celsius. The man operating it (a ~70 year old Italian man), upon seeing the newest Ferrari world champion naked, exclaimed “Mamma mia! Mamma mia!”

Felipe says that Kimi mellowed out a lot after having kids, and that he’s a very hands-on father. One time Kimi’s son was playing with Felipe's son, and Kimi was keeping an eye on him by himself.

Some other tidbits I found interesting:

When Felipe was a child, Ayrton Senna refused to give him an autograph. That stayed with him for the rest of his life, and he has never been able to refuse a child an autograph. One time he was in a car with Michael Schumacher and there were a lot of people asking for autographs outside. One of them was a little boy, tapping on the car window. After a while of Michael not reacting, Felipe couldn't stand it and eventually nudged him and asked him to give the boy an autograph. Michael did so (and gave more people autographs in the process), and later when Felipe shared his experience, Michael told him he'd been right.

Felipe believes that Fernando Alonso knew about Crashgate. He doesn't have any proof and Fernando denied it when he brought it up (jokingly, Felipe said something like "that time you fucked me over"), but just from knowing him as a teammate Felipe is sure he knew.

One time Felipe peed in Jacques Villeneuve's drinking bottle.

[accio-sriracha]

Regulus upset and slams down the book of dark magic:You brought him into my life and now I want you to bring him back. Bring him back! I have never asked you for anything. I've never asked you for spells but do this. I know you can bring him back.

Narcissa: No, dear. We won't do that.

Andromeda: We don't do that.

Regulus tearing up but angrily flipping through the pages of the book:But you can. You can do this. I know you can. I remember. I found it here when mommy and daddy died.

Narcissa: Even if we did bring him back, it wouldn't be James. It would be something else. Something dark and unnatural.

Regulus: [Starts crying, and out right begs] I don't care what he comes back as. As long he comes back. Please do this for me. Please? Please? Please? Please?

Hello! This sounds like absolute soul crushing angst, so obviously I'm very excited to write this!

(This will be angst with happy ending, and it does contain background wolfstar)

He Who Falls Shall Not Rise.

A Jegulus One-Shot

═════════•°• ⚠ •°•═════════

"James Potter?" He whispered, staring at the mess of black curls in front of him, "You're Sirius' friend, right?"

The boy turned, a curious spark in his eye and glasses that slipped to the edge of his nose,

"Yes I am." His eyebrows furrowed, "You're Regulus Black." It wasn't a question.

Regulus nodded, surprised.

"Sirius told me a lot about you." He explained, looking a little embarrassed, "You have the same features."

"Oh." Regulus wasn't sure what else to say. He recognized James from pictures he found in Sirius' room the summer after he left for Hogwarts.

"Would you like to come with me to the library? I was just about to return some charms books. I could show you around?"

Regulus nodded eagerly, "That'd be great, actually. Thanks."

═════════•°• ⚠ •°•═════════

Regulus shook the thoughts from his head. They were so young then, barely even aware of what was going on in the world around them.

He gave a harsh laugh, wondering what it would have been like if he'd never introduced himself to James at all.

No.

He couldn't entertain the thought. The heartbreak he could handle... but, not having James in his life? He wasn't sure he ever would have survived.

"Regulus? Are you home?" Narcissa called, her voice gentle as always. He sighed, his cousins had a habit of checking in on him nearly every day.

"I'll be down in a moment." He called, wiping the tears from his face.

He thought about Narcissa, about how content she was in her life. Her son must have been... what? One, now? The time flew by too fast to ever keep track.

"Hello." He greeted politely as he walked down the staircase, trying to keep his hands from shaking.

In truth, he'd never been more desperate in his life.

Desperation was a funny thing, it made you do things, even horrible things, that you never would have imagined yourself being a part of.

Like what he was about to do now.

"Are you okay?" She whispered, "You look pale, dear."

He nodded curtly, the letter from Remus sitting like a stone in his pocket, weighing down his every move. He'd read its contents a hundred times before he really processed it.

Sirius was in Azkaban.

James Potter was dead.

"Good morning, Reggie!" Andromeda called, flourishing herself through the door. Her voice was... not so gentle. Her words echoed loudly through the large, empty house.

There was nobody left but him.

"Good morning, Andy." He nodded back at her. He wasn't sure he could stand another second of this. The pretending. The casual greetings as though his entire world hadn't just caught fire.

"Who is this?" Andromeda asked, pointing to an old photograph on the wall. He had just added it this morning. Regulus' chest grew tight.

"Sirius' friend." He whispered.

At the mention of Sirius' name both of their heads whipped towards him. He was used to that now, the fear in their eyes, the worry.

Sirius had turned out just like Bellatrix after all.

Regulus refused to believe it, refused to believe his only brother could ever do something like that. Especially to someone like James. Everyone knew how much they loved each other, how willing Sirius would have been to die for him. How willing they both were to die for James.

Regulus' breathing felt shallow. He wished he would have been given the option.

"Regulus... are you sure you're alright?" Narcissa asked again.

"He's dead." The words left his mouth before he could stop them, "The man in the photograph. He's- He's dead."

Narcissa leaned down to get a better look. She gasped,

"It's Potter." She whispered, sharing a look with Andy, "That's the man that Sirius-'

"Stop." Regulus cut her off, tears threatening to spill over, "Please don't say it."

Narcissa didn't waste any time pulling him into a hug, she pet his hair gently, apologizing profusely for upsetting him. Andy walked past to the dining room,

"Maybe we should sit down to chat, yeah?" She offered, pulling out a chair.

He nodded and sat down with them, trying to control his breathing.

"What happened, Reggie?" Andy asked, reaching across the table to place a hand over his own.

"I-" He cleared his throat, "James is gone." He tried to explain but couldn't get his voice to work.

"Yes." Narcissa nodded sympathetically, "He is. I'm very sorry for your loss."

Andy' eyes turned curious, "I wasn't aware you two were friends."

Regulus gave a humorless laugh, "Friends." He repeated, his voice raw.

He thought back to the day he told Sirius he was in love with his best friend, and again to the day James told him he loved him too.

"Were you... more?" Narcissa asked carefully.

Regulus looked away. He knew how sensitive the topic was with his family. He'd seen it with Sirius, when he'd first confessed to being in a relationship with Remus.

"You were, weren't you?" Andy leaned back against her chair, resting her hands on top of her head, "We had no idea."

Regulus nodded, "We preferred it that way. The only people who knew were Remus and-" He broke off, not wanting to see them react to his brother's name again.

"So you and Potter... you loved each other." Narcissa held his other hand, "There's nothing wrong with that, dear."

Regulus laughed again, closing his eyes and tilting his face towards the ceiling,

"Believe me, there's plenty wrong with it, Cissy."

"Reg, It's okay. Neither of us are going to judge you for-" Andy started.

"No, it's not okay!" He exploded, pushing back from the table, "He's dead, Andy!"

They stayed silent, he could feel their shock from his outburst. He was usually the calm one.

"I-" He couldn't keep the tears from falling now, "I miss him." His voice broke on the last word and Narcissa immediately pulled him into another hug.

"Regulus, I'm so sorry." She whispered, rubbing his back.

"I don't need you to feel sorry for me." He gently pulled her hands away, "Feeling sorry won't bring him back."

Andy's expression immediately grew suspicious, "Reg..." She started. He shook his head,

"No. Please, I- I can't lose him." He turned and grabbed a book from the shelf, the one full of dark magic spells, and placed it on the table between them, "Please. I never ask you for anything. I never ask you to do these spells for me, but please-"

Narcissa understood now, shaking her head, "No, Regulus. You know we can't do that."

"Why not!" He shouted, taking a step backwards, "I love him! I- I can't just let him go. I need to do something, I need to try!"

Andy sighed, pushing the book away from them, "Reggie, it's too dangerous."

"I can't just sit here and do nothing! Please! I- I'll do anything you ask me to. I'll be in your debt for the rest of my life just please! Please open the damn book and try!"

"Regulus." Narcissa's voice was stern now, "You cannot bring him back. He's gone. I'm sorry but... he's gone."

Regulus shook his head, sliding the book back to the edge of the table and flipping through the pages blindly, "No I- I've seen you do it, I know you can do it. You have to! I- I can't live without him, please!"

Andy grabbed his hand to stop him, "Even if we do bring him back it won't be James. He'll come back as- as something else. It won't be him, Reggie."

"I don't care what he comes back as! I don't care, I don't care! I need him! I just need him back! Please just do it. I know you can do it, please just fucking bring him back!" He could feel his heart pounding, he was mere seconds away from getting on his knees and begging them to try.

"Regulus! We can't!" Narcissa shouted, her voice more upset then he'd ever heard it.

"You have to-" He started.

"But we can't." She sighed and closed the book, "I'm sorry."

Regulus let out a wordless, angry shout and threw the book against the wall, watching it hit the ground with a loud thud.

"Reg-" Andy stood up from the table. Regulus slammed his hands down, rounding on Narcissa,

"You don't want me to be happy, is that it? You're just angry that I found someone who really loves me. You're jealous that someone actually cares! You and Lucius don't love each other and we both know it-"

"Regulus!" Andy called. He ignored her,

"You're just jealous, Cissy. You could never handle the fact that Bella and I were always the favorites. You can’t handle the fact that maybe I'm not like you! Maybe I'm broken... and flawed. Maybe I'm not the perfect heir to the black family throne like you thought I was. That I was capable of finding my own fucking personality, that I chose to be with someone for love and not blood status. Maybe I was never like you. That's why you're doing this, isn't it? Because you're angry I couldn’t be that perfect kid anymore."

Tears streamed down his face, soaking the collar of his shirt. He couldn't care less, he was angry, more angry than he'd ever been before, "If you won't help me, I'll do it myself."

"Regulus, stop." A voice came from the doorway.

"Remus." He breathed, turning around to face him.

"I know you're angry. Merlin knows how angry I am. But you need to stop."

"How did you-" Regulus shook his head, "How did you find me?"

"I came to collect some of Sirius' things." He didn't seem to miss the flinching from behind Regulus at the name.

Narcissa walked across the room to pick up the book and put it away. Trying to play off her shudder.

Remus sighed, "I'm sorry. Really, I-" He looked away, "I can't imagine how much pain you're in."

Regulus walked up to him then, and for the very first time, he hugged him.

"I'm sorry, Remus. I know you loved him too."

Remus nodded, pulling away, "I do. But we can't bring him back. It's wrong, Reg. You know it is."

Andy walked up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, "I would do anything for you, Reggie. But I can't do this. I'm sorry."

He turned to face her, watching the emotions swirling on Narcissa' face, the guilt on Andy's.

"I know." He brushed away the last of his tears, "I know. I'm sorry." He looked at Narcissa, "I didn't mean it, the things I said to you... I'm really sorry."

She smiled softly at him, he could see the pain behind it still, "It's okay, Regulus. I know you're hurting right now. I promise, it will get better."

Regulus took a deep breath, "I hope so." He whispered.

Remus patted his shoulder once, walking past them to the stairs, heading for Sirius' old room.

"Remus." He called, Remus turned,

"Yeah?"

"Maybe you should join us tomorrow for lunch. I think it'll do us all some good to have company."

He glanced at Andy and Narcissa, his expression was reserved, but he nodded anyways,

"Okay."

~~~♤~~~

It was a long time before Regulus' anger subsided. The grief never fully went away, he wasn't sure it ever would. But he was happy now, he was capable of feeling happy, something he didn't think he'd ever feel again.

"Can you believe Sirius was only four in this photo?" Cissy laughed, showing the old album to Remus, who watched Sirius fly around on a toy broom, knocking into things Regulus knew would get him into huge trouble for later.

Remus laughed, and the sound gave Regulus hope. One day, Sirius and Remus would be together again. He hoped he would be there to see it.

Remus checked his watch and stood, "I'm late for an order meeting, I'll see you all tomorrow?"

They nodded, waving goodbye as he made his way to the door.

He would never quite be whole again without James, but he would survive, and that was enough.

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[slytherwrites]

Hello, I hope I am not disturbing you. Your writings are great. If you are getting requests, can you write for yandere husband Pollux Black, Crygnus Black, Orion Black, Alphard Black, Severus Snape, Gellert Grindelwald, Aberfort Dumbledore, Albus Dumbledore? Please

You're not bothering me at all! I love requests! Here are your husbands lol

Characters: Pollux Black, Cygnus Black, Orion Black, Alphard Black, Severus Snape, Gellert Grindelwald, Aberforth Dumbledore, and Albus Dumbledore

TWs: Yandere Content, implications of forced sex, implications of forced pregnancy

Pollux Black

There was no denying it. Pollux was drunk out of his mind.

He'd always carried himself with guilt. A twin who's brother died in the womb. The firstborn son of his father, thus complicit in whatever he wanted, in order to keep his place in the family. He was man who's back was so spineless that it should've curled in on himself already. A disappointment, not proving himself better than Arcturus and not securing the switch in power between his branch of the family and Arcturus'.

But he was you husband, and you had to stick by his side.

"Baby," He crooned in you ear, "You know I love you. You know your the only one for me."

"I am aware."

"Oh, darling I need you, there's no one else for me." He continues, "Love is just what keeps me going. And love is just you in that dress."

"Is that some song?"

"Loving you is just what I do best..."

You take the cup from his hand and slip him out of his formal robes. The reception is over. Cassiopeia got out of this family and is married to someone who loves her. You wish you could say the same.

"It's how I feel, darling." Pollux continues, "I can't stand to see people around you."

"I'm all yours, Pollux." You tell him, "I'm all yours."

"When are you going to act like it then." He whines as more layers get removed between the two of you. You've holed up in the main manor, in one of the side rooms. Pollux is too drunk to apparate or use the floo network. And nobody in the Black Family would dare be seen riding the Knight Bus.

"I do act like it." You tell yourself, "I'm yours, Pollux."

"You don't say I love you. You recoil from my touch. You refuse to call me anything other than my first name." Pollux's tone gets serious, "You don't act like you love me."

"I love you." You tell him.

He grabs your shoulders and throws you onto the bed with him, "Then start acting like it."

"Pollux—" You tried to put some distance between the two of you, "Pollux, wait."

"No." His tone was much more sober, even if he was still slurring his words, "No. You are mine. Quit acting like you're not."

"Please—" You start but he interrupts you, "No! No. You are my wife. You shall act like it."

"I do!" You try to get back onto your feet, "I do!"

"I am your husband and you are my wife." He says, "We shall be one. We shall grow ourselves—our family."

What he means dawns on you and you know that this was always a part of your marriage contract, but you believed that by the time it happened, you'd be in love with him.

You tried and your tried but the light are off and the curtain is closing. This performance is over and act two's about to begin. This time, with a proper pureblood family from the two of you.

Cygnus Black

Cygnus was raised as a righteous man. He has a duty to the family—to live long and prosper. And he wanted to do that with you. Second-born son of the second-born line, he wasn't close to leading the family, even in his wildest dreams.

But he could lead his own family. And he wanted to create that family and that legacy with you and you alone.

"Spin." Your dress robes shimmered with the brightness of the stars themselves, the glimmer bouncing off of them in the waves of your turns, shining as bright as you do.

You don't say anything to him as he takes in your figure. You need to be perfect for him. It is your wedding day, after all.

"Muggles wait to see what they're partner is wearing until they are right in front of them." Cygnus notes, "What fools they are."

"How do you know what muggles do at weddings?" You try to laugh, tease him so that this moment isn't as daunting for you.

"Because I do." Cygnus growls, "Don't question your husband."

"You're not my husband yet." You laugh weakly for your own sake. Cygnus has always been quick to anger, quick to contempt. Hopefully you're quicker—especially than he is at action.

"Look at me." He grabs your arm and squeezes until all of the blood rushes from the hold, "You do not question me. I am your husband. It would behoove you to learn that quickly."

"Alright." You rub your wrist, comforting yourself, "I understand."

"I'll train you up. Don't worry." He says, "You'll learn before our children are born. You'll be an optimal parent. You'll be the perfect spouse. I'll make sure of it."

Somehow, you silently note, that you know that you'll never be as perfect as he needs, no matter how much he teaches and you endure.

Orion Black

Orion Black looked at you with a gaze so sharp it could pierce your body and soul. His straight black hair was combed neatly. His eyes were concrete grey and he kept his face just with the hints of what his beard could be if he didn't shave it regularly. His suit was crisp and clean and his shoes shined like motor oil.

He was well dressed and angry at something. And he was looking at you to fix it.

You took the initiative, silently accio-ing a bottle and a glass, pouring him a drink and then handing it to him. "Rough day?"

He takes the glass you offer, "News you won't like."

"What is it?" You ask, "I can handle it."

"I know, darling. You're so strong for me." Orion takes a sip of the drink and bridges the gap between the two of you, taking your hands into his, "They know the gender of Druella's baby."

The realization dawns on you, "Another girl."

"Yes," He offers you a sympathetic smile, "You've always been bright."

"I don't think coming to that conclusion took much brain power."

"I talked with my grandfather. He's expecting us to pick up the slack."

"Have the heir." You fill in.

Orion nods.

"No." You put your foot down, "That was the deal. I was to stay with you, play the perfect Black Family Wife and I would remain financed, protected, and untouched."

"That was if Cygnus was able to have a male heir." Orion says, "Do you think that I want to go back on that arrangement?"

"Then don't!"

"And have Bellatrix be the next Head of the Black Family?" Orion asks, "I'm already set up to be heir. It was always expected of me."

"It's not going to be expected of me."

"Yes it was." Orion's grip tightens, "We are already wed. You are mine. You cannot leave. Now you can do this the easy way, or I'll imperio you."

"You wouldn't."

He looks you in the eye and reaches for his wand. He doesn't say the words outright, but you made a deal with the devil so he wouldn't hurt you further. And maybe you will have to slide back on that deal a bit. But if you didn't, he'd take it painfully. And he would feel as if he could take more and more out of you.

You can keep some semblance of control this way. And what's one kid in the grand scheme of things?

Alphard Black

Alphard Black loved you to the moon and back. He was Hephaestus and you were Aphrodite, but like the mythical husband and wife, you were not loyal.

No, you'd found your Ares.

A muggleborn, in fact. Some man in the French Ministry of Magic who's been in Britain working on a project. Alphard didn't care who he was or what he done, except for when it was with you.

He used muggle means of subduing him. He's always been fascinated in the magicless. After all, he took you as his wife, even after his family threatened him.

It took all of his convincing to prove that you'd be a good partner, despite being a squib. You can still produce magical children after all. And he's not of the main line anyways.

But you had to go and fuck it up, didn't you?

He has your man tied up in a chair in the parlor, stripped of his wand and his clothing. He was still out cold and you came running when your darling husband told you oh, so sweetly that he had a surprise for you.

He stands over and behind your passed out lover. He's able to see your face when you notice what's gone on. And he can see the horror on your face as you see his manic smile.

"Alphie... what did you do?" You take a step closer, kneeling in front of your lover, "Alphie! What are you doing!"

"Don't Alphie me, sweetheart." He replies, "I saved you from a horrid life in the muggle world and this is how you repay me? By fucking some muggleborn swine!"

"Alphie, it's not what you think..."

"No, baby, it is what I think." He says, "I've been working and you've had a bit too much free time. So you took a man who would give you that attention. I'm sorry, darling. But I'll give you the attention you deserve."

"Alphie, please!" You try to reason with him, but he grabs a knife, "You can't do this!"

"Oh but I can. Knife to the head, incendio for the corpse, and aguamenti to put out the flames. It's simple, really."

You try to run to your lover, standing with him so that if Alphard was to light him ablaze, he'd have to do so to you as well. But Alphard casts a spell you don't recognize and you fall to the floor as you loose consiousness.

You come too as the fire dies down. Your lover no more than ashes. Alphard has himself pressed against your back, arms around your waist. He's singing the song at your wedding and it dawns on you:

You can never escape. You will never escape. The world that you admired so much and was desperate to be a part of you had a chokehold on you so strong that you were unable to leave it, even if you wanted to.

Severus Snape

You were in this marriage for your own personal protection.

The Snape name wasn't known as a Wizarding name just yet, but Severus was a halfblood. He could trace his lineage.

You could not, on account of being a muggleborn.

Honestly, with how Severus acted, you'd wished a death eater would take you out already. It wasn't nearly as torturous as being the wife to such an insufferable man.

"Darling," His slow manner of speaking irritated you, as if you couldn't handle him speaking any faster than this, "You mustn't linger about like that. You seem unhappy."

"And what if I am unhappy?"

"With the favor I have provided you?" He asks, "It would be foolish of you."

"Then call me a fool."

In all honesty, he was right. Staring out the window in the muggle home the two of you shared wasn't healthy for you. It only served to remind you of the home and happiness that you have since lost.

You change the subject, "How is your lord faring?"

"Better, now that he's decided on whomst his biggest threat is."

"Not Albus Dumbledore?"

"No, not Albus Dumbledore." Severus won't tell you more than that and you do not push the matter.

"Anything interesting in the potions you've been making?"

"No." He replies, "It is all the basics for getting a potions mastery. I will have to show it to the Potions Mastery Committee, down at the Ministry."

"You're heading into London?"

"I was planning on flooing, actually."

"Pick me up a new book." You turn to look at him, seeing him flip through the pages of his own book, "I've finished the last in that series and I want something of a similar author."

"Alright." He replies, not looking up at you. You look at his face, still ever-present in his book.

You suppose that he could be worse. He could be active in this situation, not just complacent in your slow torment under this roof. He could lay an unjust hand on you. He could treat you like the other wives of Death Eaters.

There is a mercy in how he acts. There is love in his distance.

You could reciprocate it, you could let it grow and blossom. But for now, you let the waves splash softly against the sand that is the foundation of your relationship with the man.

Gellert Grindelwald

Gellert Grindelwald doesn't love you.

The truth of the matter is that he's never loved anyone, only having obsessions. And, for all of his life, he's only been obsessed with two individuals: Albus Dumbledore—and you.

The fact that you have something in common with Albus Dumbledore makes you laugh. Him, one of the greatest wizards of all time, and you, a witch with so much self-loathing you almost formed an obscurus.

Almost, being the key word. For Gellert Grindelwald made it certain that you would not succumb to this deadly affliction, that you would find love within yourself and the world and its magic, so that you would keep on living.

And, it was all so he can keep you funneled away, hidden from the rest of the world in a small flat near Godric's Hollow.

It's embarrassing really, how quickly you fell for him. And yet, he does not love you, even after all that he did to make you love him.

You just stare off into the fireplace, awaiting his arrival. Because he's the only thing that keeps you from slipping into that state again. He's the only thing that brings you joy.

Aberforth Dumbledore

Aberforth wasn't the gloriest of husbands you could of had.

In all honesty, you befriended him to get closer to Albus. That was the real catch, your mother told you. Handsome, intelligent, hardworking—the world was falling at his feet and you could've been the woman smiling by his side, perfectly cared for and content while he tool the Wizarding World by storm.

But Aberforth had to actually take a liking to you, one he took violently, one that tarnished your reputation afterwards.

One thing lead to another and there was a child between the two of you. Aberforth made you an honest woman and you got yourself stuck with a child you didn't want, a job you hated, and a husband you hated even more.

At least nobody cares about what you did, out of wedlock. It's been decades now. You and Aberforth are over a century old. So is Albus.

And even if you can't call Albus Dumbledore yours, you still get to be near him and bask in his intellect. You two are friends, even if you always wanted to be something more.

Albus Dumbledore

He was an odd man. Never violent, even if you wished he would be.

He was kind, wise, put love as the forefront of everything, even though you didn't love him.

You didn't even like him. No, you were filled with pure, unadulterated hatred for your husband.

He's a gentle man. Smart, intelligent, caring. He keeps to himself on most occasions and lets you roam the walls of Hogwarts freely, just like you did, when the two of you were students.

You remember him well, you suppose. Back then, he wasn't like this. Back then, he was easier to endure. Back then, your dislike of him was validated.

Now, he's the war hero and headmaster of the greatest wizarding school in the world. He's saved countless of lives and mentored everyone who's walked through the walls of Hogwarts for the past century or so.

And it's exhausting, staying by his side. You're expected to be a proud person, prideful in your husband's work and all he has done, joyful in how the Dumbledore name has flourished and grateful for the man you've married.

But you are not here willingly. You would not have joined his side by choice.

You honestly hope Minister Fudge finds a way to oust him. Maybe his crimes in the wars will be released. Maybe he'll keel over and die already.

Because being the partner to such a perfect man is exhausting. Especially when you're the only one who sees all of his flaws.

[roseaesynstylae]

Star Wars: Republic Commando: Triple Zero, Chapter 1, Part 1

"Kal Skirata had committed the biggest mistake of his life, and he'd made some pretty big ones in his time."

It's begun. Kal Skirata is here.

Also, considering Kal's track record throughout this series, "mistakes" might not be the right word to use.

"No, this wasn't happening.

Inside the transparent tubes there was fluid, and within it there was movement.

It took him several minutes of staring and refocusing on one of the tubes to realize there was a body in there, and it was alive. In fact, there was a body in every tube: row upon row of tiny bodies, children's bodies. Babies.

'Fierfek,' he said aloud.

He thought he'd come to this Force-forsaken hole to train commandos. Now he knew he'd stepped into a nightmare."

I will confess: When I first read this section, I thought I might actually like Kal Skirata, just a little bit. Then I read the rest of the book and I realized, no, this guy is an asshole. But he is at his most sympathetic at the very beginning of this novel. If any fanfic writers out there want to rewrite him to be more likable, this bit is what you should build off of.

"Skirata knew from day one that he wouldn't like Kaminoans.

Their cold yellow eyes troubled him, and he didn't care for their arrogance, either. They stared at his limping gait and asked if he minded being defective."

To be fair to Kal, Kaminoans are pretty damn hard to like. And I too would be upset if someone looked at an injury I got and went "Are you okay with being damaged?"

However, Kal using the word arrogance is almost funny. Pot calling the kettle black, anyone?

"Jango slowed down tactfully. 'So, Ilippi threw you out?'

'Yeah.' His wife wasn't Mandalorian. He'd hoped she'd embraced the culture, but she didn't: she always hated seeing her old man go off to someone else's war. The fights began when he wanted to take their two sons into battle with him. They were eight years old, old enough to start learning their trade; but she refused, and soon Ilippi and the boys and his daughter were no longer waiting when he returned from the latest war. Ilippi divorced him the Mando way, same as they'd married, on a brief, solemn, private vow. A contract was a contract, written or not."

Okay. Um, I'm just going to list a few things.

Did you discuss this with her at all before you got married? I kind of get the impression that you just assumed she'd go along with it.

Eight years old? If Kal actually has the gall to say anything about child soldiers going forward, I'm going to explode.

Why do you sound surprised that she first left your ass and then divorced you? From what I'm hearing, you royally fucked up your marriage.

It's a Man's World: 1 (for Kal's assumption that his wife would just go along with him)

Mando-Shilling: 1 (why yes, child soldiers are fine and peachy if they're Mandalorian child soldiers)

"'Don't your sons talk to you any longer?'

'Not often.' So I failed as a father. Don't rub it in."

Considering how much you fail as a father in this very book, I am, in fact, going to rub it in.

"'Ko Sai said something wasn't quite right with the first test batch of clones,' said Jango, ushering Skirata ahead of him into another room."

*Looks over at the "the Bad Batch are the other half of the Nulls" theory that has consumed my brain and led me to reading this series in the first place* *Looks over at the fact that the Bad Batch are defective or "not quite right"* Continue.

(All GIFs in this chapter will from now on be TBB GIFs.)

Is This The Bad Batch?: 1

"'I always believe in being honest about setbacks in a program. We value the Jedi Council as a customer.'

'I have nothing to do with the Jedi,' said Jango. 'I'm only a consultant on military matters.'

Oh, Skirata thought. Jedi. Great."

(All and any unhappy Echo expressions, regardless of the actual context, are perfect for this.)

The nicest thing that has ever come out of Kal Skirata's mouth regarding the Jedi Order.

Jedi-Bashing: 1

"'Chief Scientist Ko Sai apologizes, as do I,' said Orun Wa. 'Six units did not survive incubation, but these developed normally and appeared to meet specifications, so they have undergone some flash-instruction and trials. Unfortunately, psychological testing indicates that they are simply too unreliable and fail to meet the personality profile requited.'

'Which is?' said Jango.

'That they can carry out orders.'"

First, every time we learn more about the Nulls, I'm going to point out the parallels to the Bad Batch and shamelessly propel my theory (mostly to make myself feel better). Second, have a little serotonin boost!

Is This The Bad Batch?: 2

"'We could do with a few wild cards,' Jango said carefully, moving between Skirata and the Kaminoan. 'It's good to have some surprises up your sleeve for the enemy. What are these kids really like? And how old are they?'

'Nearly two years growth. Highly intelligent, deviant, disturbed -- and uncommandable.'"

Quoth the Tech, "We're more deviant that defective."

"Ordo was doing pretty well for a four-year-old soldier,

They could learn to be heroes tomorrow. Tonight they needed to be children, reassured that the storm was not a battlefield, and so nothing to fear.

[...]

'It's okay, Ord'ika,' he said softly. 'I'm here, son. I'm here."

This is the most likable Kal Skirata is going to be. It's all downhill from here, guys.

I'm splitting this into two parts, so the jump to present day will be in the next post.

Jedi-Bashing: 1

Mando-Shilling: 1

It's a Man's World: 1

Shut The Fuck Up, Kal: 0

Deltas, Move Out: 0

Mird, My Beloved: 0

Is This The Bad Batch?: 2

Main Post

[therxtking]

How did Ira let this happen!?

That's something people forget about parents a lot. Even if you're an amazing mom, bad things can happen to your kid. She acted when she noticed Gordon getting a bit worse in middle school and tried to get him to talk to her, she took him to therapy (again) She cleared her schedule to spend more time with him.

He just. Didn't tell her things and pushed her away. He wasn't a caniquus and next to nothing is known about his species, so she only had his word of explanations to go on. She found out about Temper but not what he'd done or how bad he was, and she tried toughening Gordon up with his own boundaries and told her son to stay away from him. She offered to move schools, moves states, move countries but he lashed out and begged her not to, that she was overbearing and everything was her fault, leave him alone and let him grow and be independent as a way of getting her to stop trying to put an end to or find out about the extent of his self destructive behavior. She tried to get him to quit dance, she made him several times, but he got so much worse without it, and always promised to do better about taking care of himself.

Kids are crafty. She did everything she could. But he just wouldn't open up, he learned to lie and cover his tracks, he learned how to make her blame herself to redirect what she thought the issue was. Because if she found out, he'd have to give up the things that were really killing him slowly from the inside, the only things and people that made him feel good sometimes.

He pushed and pushed and pushed and went radio silent when he went to college. She had enough and hunted him down. They had a very bad argument over her trying to keep him safe and take care of her foal, and she finally relented. But she still texts him often. After years of seeing each other once or twice a year, he comes home shaking and crying, badly hurt. She asked what happened and begged and begged for him to open up, she loved him, he was safe, please please just tell me, let me help you... He lashed out again about her being too nosy, not trusting him, and being overprotective before asking her to take him to where his kind is from. He was years into adulthood. So with a crushed heart, she did. And he left. He didn't let her take him herself, and she respected his every wish. Even still, she keeps reaching out over text. Asking if she should visit, if he wants to come home for his birthday or the holidays, or just call. Please just call... But it's ignored for weeks until she gets a few paragraphs about the good, funny, and busy things going on and a 'I love you, I'll let you know when I've got the time.' and then weeks or MONTHS of nothing.

She still cries on his birthday, she still texts once a week, and she still reads parenting books and talks to a therapist to learn where she went wrong, because she believes she was awful to him or just didn't understand him. Because why else would he have turned out like that?.. Refuse to tell her anything all growing up, get so sad so anxious no matter what she did or how she took matters into her own hands to try and get him to leave situations that were obviously bad for him!.. But those were the only places he was happy. So she couldn't force him.

It was extra complicated with his difficulty making friends, and of course, the species barrier.

She tried so so hard. No she wasn't perfect but she did a damn good job for what she had.

And she doesn't think she's fit to be a mother anymore. She doesn't want to do that to another pup.

[tehuti88-art]

6/14/24: r/SketchDaily theme, "Free Draw Friday." This week's characters from my anthro WWII storyline are Bernhard and Tanja Dannecker, younger siblings of Margarethe and Christof Dannecker, children of Else Dannecker, stepchildren of Ernst Dannecker. (I haven't drawn Else's unnamed/deceased first husband yet.) I don't know much about them as they and Else are estranged from Gret throughout most of the story; only Christof shows Gret any sympathy for what she went through. There'll be more about them later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se.

Regarding their design, they're white Pomeranians.

TUMBLR EDIT: I'm not 100% certain but I estimate that Christof is maybe two years younger than Gret; Bernhard is two years younger than Christof; and Tanja is a year younger than Bernhard. Thus one reason they all look around the same age in my art, despite Gret being around 20 or so, meaning Bernhard and Tanja would be around 16 and 15 in this art. (Their father was a poor, low-ranking member of the Wehrmacht and Nazi Party--cannon fodder, Ernst Dannecker calls him, even though he was once such a soldier himself in the Great War--who was killed on the Eastern Front pretty early on. Else's children were born in relatively quick succession, and in one adult WIP I make passing mention that there were a few miscarriages and a stillbirth in among them.) Another reason they all look the same age is that they're purebred Pomeranians--compare them to their mother, who also looks the same. (Whenever I draw their biological father, he too will look the same.) They're all relatively petite in size--people keep mistaking 5' tall Gret for a child when she's full grown--and so always look pretty youthful compared to the Danneckers, who are purebred Siberian huskies (and are pretty tall in general, Walther isn't as tall as his son but he and Margit are both taller than average and I estimate Dannecker himself is probably around 6'4").

The rest of this will be truncated in Tanja's entry to save repetition.

Not much to say about Bernhard and Tanja, they're more background characters than anything. I've gone over most of the relevant info in the entries of the other family members already linked. (For even deeper info, see also Dannecker's parents, Margit and Walther.)

I never go into detail yet DISTURBING PLOT FOLLOWING, beware.

The gist of it is that Commandant Dannecker marries the widowed, destitute Else solely to gain access to her oldest daughter, Margarethe (about 14-15 at the time), who irrationally reminds him of his own deceased mother, Margit, with whom he'd been engaged in a relationship since adolescence. (His father, Walther, discovered this and sent Ernst off to military academy to break it off, yet WWI broke out, Dannecker went to the front, then came back home all grown up--and now, much stronger and fitter--and ended up murdering his own father so he and his mother could be together. Margit had no hand in this, yet went along with Dannecker afterwards, both out of love and fear. She justified the relationship, BTW, by mentioning how her father justified the same when she was young...hinting that this has been going on for generations.) Dannecker even wonders if his mother (from beyond the grave) sent Gret to be his bride in her place...it's quite messed up. Anyway, he grooms the entire family for a while--lavishing them with gifts and a comfortable lifestyle, making them dependent on him--before starting to abuse Gret much the same way Margit abused him. Gret is also targeted by Josef Diamant, a prisoner in her stepfather's labor camp, who plans to seduce her to help him kill Dannecker before Dannecker can kill him; except Gret decides to go along with this plot willingly. After the deed is done, she tries to contact her mother, yet Else refuses to believe her beloved Ernst would ever do such things; she's forced to acknowledge it's so only when Christof tells her that he witnessed the abuse one night, and then her reaction is to accuse Gret of seducing her husband. She willingly chooses a man who victimized her daughter, and who never even loved her, and disowns Gret.

Christof is the only family member to show Gret any sympathy; he helps her gather some things and go on the run (nearly getting shot by a jittery Diamant in the process), and continues to help provide for her throughout the war; afterward, he's the only one to get back in touch. Else never forgives her for Dannecker's death. And Bernhard and Tanja, who were also spoiled by Dannecker and brainwashed by Else to believe Gret is the bad one, keep their distance as well. (Incidentally, one threat Dannecker uses to keep Gret in line is that he'll do the same to Tanja--which he really has no interest in doing, he has eyes only for Gret--and will imprison her family in his camp. So the entire time, Gret keeps quiet in hopes of protecting the same family that turn their backs on her afterward.)

I don't know if Bernhard or Tanja ever reestablish communication with Gret or not. I'd like them to, but it seems more realistic for them not to. They always knew Dannecker only as a loving and devoted stepfather, and have no reason to doubt their own mother. IRL, it's all too common for victims to not be believed, even by those closest to them, and if I can't get anything else realistic about my story, then I'd like to get the emotions and interpersonal interactions accurate. At least Gret has Christof.

[Bernhard Dannecker 2024 [‎Friday, ‎June ‎14, ‎2024, ‏‎12:00:07 AM]]

[violaobanion]

Hello, Succession Anon again with my last message til I can watch more in the who-knows-when future! Ah, the family cycle of abuse pit. A trope I shall never tire of watching!

LMAO yeah, not everyone has had a chance to be terrible yet, so currently I have some characters I only feel sorry for. I imagine that will change very easily (except for the dog I saw for like 5 seconds in this ep; BEST PUPPER, 100/10, NO DRAMA FOR THEM).

Anyway, here is my liveblog! May you enjoy my ridiculous amount of rambling, and also a light scattering of screaming. And a silly amount of em-dashes to separate scenes.

———

Kendall: [lights a cig, has one puff, then stomps it out to drama walk into a building] Arresting him for littering and for being wasteful. Jail for 50 years!

(After everything else I watched in the first ep, though, this is so far down on the 'people saying/doing bad stuff' things that it'd be a footnote on Santa's naughty list.)

———

Kendall: Does anyone want to talk to their dad?

My headcanon here is that Logan sneezed and instantly went 'Hmm, sounds like I need to call one of the little shits'.

———

Logan: [says he's excited full of an emotion that expresses he'd rather watch paint dry]

I'm beginning to see why these kids have daddy issues.

———

RIP Greg in the mascot dogsuit. It must not have been pretty or smelled good in there.

Also, I completely spaced out from what Greg was saying the moment I saw a dog. PUPPY!

———

Roman: 'Hey hey, motherfuckers!' Refuses to elaborate ANYTHING except mockery. Leaves.

I don't know whether to like him or not, but I would steal his last french fry.

———

I have no idea how to comment on Logan not only knowing about his 'surprise' party but also trying to have a say in it.

Like, relatable on the part of not wanting people in my face because anxiety. But it isn't abt anxiety for Logan, it's abt control, right? Sir, a surprise party is meant to have surprises!

———

WHAT THE FUCK IS A PREEKEND?! Why can't they say Friday; Shiv, I'm with you on this.

———

Kendall casually saying he'd give a bj without knowing his dad is in the room OH GOSH THAT POOR MAN it'd be like my fam finding my smut list. I'd jump out the window instantly.

———

Tom/Connor: casually tells a kid that he's got water pumping rights and people are gonna kill each other for said water some day

SIR, WHAT THE ACTUAL F

I can't believe 'hey motherfuckers' Roman was the sane man there, but THANK FUCK HE SHUT TOM/CONNOR UP. Well, tried to.

(Edit for Clarification: Roman called Connor 'Tom' for some reason, so I got confused and just put Tom/Connor here. RIP Connor.)

———

Shiv: What's that; Date R*pe by Calvin Klein? Roman: You wish. Shiv: …'You wish'???

SHIV, WTF. 2. ROMAN, DOUBLE WTF. 3. FORGET WHAT I SAID; JAIL FOR ROMAN FOR 100 YEARS.

———

RIP Greg, gets slammed into a door the moment he meets Logan.

Currently feeling the most sorry for Greg here; if he gets pushed out of a window at any point, I'm not even gonna be surprised.

'Yeah, that's Greg, bad shit happens to him a lot. You get used to it.'

———

Logan: Where's Tom? Shiv: He's right here. Logan: Oh, well, nevermind.

Logan, you can't just murder a man like that.

———

Kendall's ex(?): I'm just hoping [her date] doesn't leave coke smeared all over the kids' iPads.

EXCUSE ME WHAT?!

Oh, that was a dig at Kendall. Uh, I'm sad for everyone now, wow.

———

Logan: In the event of my demise (hi s4), I'm adding Marcia and leaving her my seat.

WELP. THAT'S A BOMBSHELL.

Shiv: Uh, I'm gonna need my lawyers to look at this. Logan: Sure. By 4:00, ok? Logan: Also, I discussed this with Kendall, but I'm staying in power as CEO. Kendall: Wh-what? Logan: Let's eat!

I see where Roman got his 'go in, throw shit at the wall, then leave' tendencies from.

'Fuck this shit I'm out' started playing in my head as Connor left too.

———

The longer Logan is on screen, the more I start… losing emotions. He just called rehab 'the nuthouse', and is generally insulting his son.

Logan: Is that why you're paying a billion dollars for a gay little website? Kendall: It's a portfolio of online brands and digital video content.

So Logan is Succession's Elon Musk, and Kendall is his son buying Instagram.

Now Logan's egging Kendall into punching him/mocking him for nearly crying, and poor Kendall is having a breakdown in the bathroom. Good lord, I want to hug him.

———

The past few moments they've mentioned a game, drove off in SUVs, and now there are helicopters. I have no idea what is going on.

OH, IT'S A BASEBALL FIELD. Now I know what's going on. There are so many shots of Tom holding a box, and I think that's the gift he's been trying to give to Logan. I feel sorry for the dude, and I get the feeling that's gonna sum up the show: me feeling sorry for characters.

Yep, it was a gift. Logan doesn't care. Continuing to feel sorry for Tom.

———

Tom: You need any help, any advice, just don't fucking bother, ok? Just kidding! [later] I'm a terrible, terrible prick. Just kidding!

Greg: [confused and clearly has no idea wtf is going on]

Don't worry, bro, me too.

Tom: Would you kiss me?

SIR, ARE YOU TRYING TO SPEEDRUN ANY% STRANGERS TO ENEMIES TO LOVERS?!

———

Ooh, did Kendall just go straight to the media about his family? 👀👀

———

Roman: Can you hit a ball? Kid: Yeah… Roman: Great, I will give you $1mil if you hit a home run.

WELL, THAT'S NOT GONNA PUT PRESSURE ON THE KID! But dang that is a lot of money, good on you, Roman.

———

Roman: [tears up the check right in the kids face, then gives him the torn pieces]

Roman, every time I say something nice about you, you fuck it up. I'm getting a spray bottle full of water, just for you.

EVEN LOGAN WAS NICE TO THE KID! You know you fucked up when Logan was (temporarily) nicer than you.

———

Kendall: I'm gonna stuff your mouth with so much money you're gonna shit gold figurines.

So Midas kink?

Kendall: [goes into graphic detail abt gold cages and silver d*ldos]

WHEN I SAID KINK I DIDN'T MEAN I WANTED A WHOLE ASS SUMMARY ABOUT YOUR FANTASIES, KENDALL

———

…I don't even know what to say about Logan making the kid and his family sign an NDA. Like, at least maybe the kid is getting money after all, but W O W.

I should probably get multiple water spray bottles.

———

Logan: Do we have a deal? His kids: No Logan: [instantly collapses from insubordination]

WELP. EVERYTHING WENT STRAIGHT TO HELL IN A HANDBASKET, AND THIS IS ONLY S1 E1.

———

Everyone else: [chaos, drama, and depression] Frank: [resting on a chair after getting fired]

Be free, Frank. Get away from this! …OH, THE KID AND HIS FAMILY GOT TOM'S GIFT FOR LOGAN! Like, kinda happy for the kid/family 'cause they could sell that or whatever, but rip Tom. Logan loves hurting his family more than your Brand watch.

———

That's everything from my liveblog of ep 1! Sorry for only one ep liveblog, but hopefully it was an amusing read. This is gossipy hen/Succession Anon, signing off! salutes

Hi my dear anon!

Haha I love to see your liveblogging, this was a very amusing read indeed. You're observations are pretty spot on and hilarious, and it made almost nostalgic thinking about the time when I watched the shitshow (affectionately) for the first time 😌

A few comments:

Tom and/or Greg: There's a fine line between feeling sorry for and being annoyed by these two fellas. I think you're gonna cross it many times (and hopefully soon). Still love them both btw. But god. UGH!

*sigh* What would this show be without daddy issues, amarite or amarite? 😏

I would steal Roman's last french fry too 🤣

Fun fact: Roman's "you wish" at Shiv's perfume comment was unscripted, and so Shiv's reaction is actually Sarah's reaction. For a split second she falls out of character and looks at the crew. But when you don't know, it just looks like Shiv fucking baffled. I love that for her and I love Kieran's improv. It's not the last time he does that (but sadly not all his attempts make it. One of them was even too good???)

"SIR,WHAT THE ACTUAL F" is one the most accurate descriptions of Connor I've ever heard. That man is so out of touch. Send help.

Logan is the male equivalent of a Karen 🙂🔪

Frank is love, Frank is life. That man? *chef's kiss* right there

I remember last time I rewatched this (right before s4) thinking "LOGAN COULD'VE DIED IN THE FIRST EPISODE??" and then thinking what dream scenario that would have been. But oh well!

[justaradioguy]

At least you have them, he wants to argue. Your mother and your sisters and your sons.

Jealousy has probably always been his worst vice, the one that gnaws at him whenever he so much as lays eyes on a father and son playing catch in the park or two friends on a walk together or a couple holding hands.

At least you had Hughes. At least Breda doesn't talk over you. At least people believe in you. At least you know what 'home' means and at least you've heard 'I love you'.

He keeps it all back. It wouldn't be fair. It's not Roy's fault that Kain is like this. Roy is trying to help, even.

Being difficult, that's what he's doing. He doesn't even mean to, especially not when Roy had sought him out to help instead of the other way around.

Maybe this is why he's got people and Kain doesn't. Maybe his father and his mother were right when they scolded him. Weird, difficult, annoying, disappointing - those were the words they used most often.

Maybe, he figures, he should go back to what he knows, shrink away from Roy, and let the formalities slip back into his speech as he pleads his commanding officer to forgive him for forgetting the protocols.

But he doesn't want to. He's warm, and he feels mostly safe, and someone's being nice to him.

And it's not just any someone, it's the man who'd believed in him just enough to bring him onto his unit, who'd given him the only flicker of hope he'd ever felt before that.

He'd been so excited, too. Maybe, in some other universe, he'd have called his mother to tell her about how somehow he'd caught Colonel Mustang's attention. And maybe, in that other universe, she'd have told him how proud she was and how he should have come home for dinner that weekend to celebrate. Maybe he would have, and maybe he would've had some friends waiting for him as a surprise, and maybe everyone would have been happy to see him.

Instead, he'd gone back to his dorm that evening, laid his jacket over his chair, tugged off his boots, and skipped dinner to go straight to bed so he could be well-rested and at his best the next day.

The sergeant forces that away the best that he can. Roy didn't come in here for a sad, insignificant story.

But it's still floating, the memory of how empty his room seemed that evening and of how he'd spent most of it fantasizing and of how that day had been his happiest memory even with how sad he'd been by the end of it.

Roy can never understand what Kain means by 'weird'.

Roy, like everyone else, has the rules of the game.

Roy has a family. They love him and he loves them and so the man cannot possibly get it, even though he thinks he does.

Kain can't be mad at him for trying, even if he's jealous, even if Roy doesn't understand him. He will choose kindness right now. He will choose kindness and love over the venom he could very well easily spit out instead. He will choose it through gritted teeth against every urge to be cruel to the world that is so cruel to him.

"I'm glad you have them," he says. "They'll turn up soon, I'm sure."

And it will sting. He knows it - he'll be standing there off to the side wishing someone were that happy and relieved to see him, but like always he won't say a word as not to ruin the moment. Roy can claim he considers Kain family all that he wants to, but when it comes down to it, he already knows that he can't compare to the people Roy's been telling him about.

Maybe he'll sit with Cid, because as far as he knows Cid doesn't have anything to rub in his face even accidentally. They can sit together in silence, one working while the other grieves in the weirdest way possible over a person who never existed at all. For now, though, and perhaps only for now, he has company and warmth.

"Do you think maybe there's some sort of chance that I'll have someone love me like that someday too, Colonel? Or even just be close enough, like... I dunno." He shakes his head, refusing to let himself finish his sentence.

"I'm being stupid, sorry. Thank you for the hug."

“You can’t protect everyone, mijo.” Chris always uttered that phrase since he was able to pick fights with schoolyard bullies. While she treated his bruises, she learned many of them came from more than his poor social status. No, they came from being the boy who couldn’t ignore when someone else was bullied. He always chose to step in, even if the bully was twice his size or the odds were otherwise against him. None of it mattered. 

“Tuve que hacer algo,” he’d say with ice against his cheek. “Alguien tiene que.”

That thinking stayed with him through to the present day. Schoolyard bullies became enemies on the battlefield, which changed daily, and he won more battles thanks to years of training. Still, with arms wrapped around Fuery, he remembered the ones he lost with painful accuracy. He nearly lost Fuery that day with Gluttony—if he had been one minute slower, he would have. Then, there was the battle he lost against the Fuhrer that put Fuery directly in harm’s way. Into the South. Into war. He couldn’t protect him there. He couldn’t do anything for him.

At least he could control a warzone. If he had been there, maybe—

But, he wasn’t. Additionally, Fuery could never know him the same way Hughes did. The monster who controlled a warzone so effortlessly, raising hell instead of ruling heaven, was not the same man Fuery held onto right now. He would not speak freely to that monster like he was now—honestly, without fear of judgment. 

Two incredibly different men sat with one another, and Roy hadn’t known just how different until now. For all his lack of structure from living in a brothel, he had rules. He had alchemy, which had laws of science to follow. Those, along with Chris and his sisters instructing him in social etiquette, gave him a firm foundation to stand on. By the time he reached the Hawkeye estate and the military, he was well on his way to becoming the man he was now. Then, there was the fact that their two brains undoubtedly worked in different ways due to more than nurture. Nature was also at play. 

Huh. 

“I think I get it. It’s easier to keep people at a distance. Safer. The Mada—my mother had a similar philosophy. She and my sisters… they handed me that set of rules you mentioned, I guess. I owe them everything if I’m being honest. But, that doesn’t mean you’re the only weird one. Just ask Ed and Al when they show up. They love to shit-talk me.” He let a smile sneak onto his face for a few seconds before he let it fade. “I’m not asking you to be fine. I won’t ask something of you that I can’t do myself, and we’ve already established I’m anywhere but fine. We can figure this out as we go.”

[shiros-scribbles]

Listen to me

Listen

I would do ANYTHING to see Cecil and Debbie get together just because I DESPRATELY want Cecil to become Mark's weird, supportive Step Dad™ and watch them both be insanely awkward in this dynamic together.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

No Such Thing As Stupid Question

This one is for you, Anna! @unclewaynemunson! Congratulations on your academic progress, I'm so proud of you!

Also on Ao3 for your convenience :)

As someone who showed as little interest in romance as possible, Wayne Munson didn't really expect to be come a parental figure. Maybe he'd get a dog when he retired, some older mutt from a shelter, and they'd sit in front of the trailer in quiet company, perhaps a bark here and there as Wayne sipped his beer. Wayne could imagine that. But a kid, never.

But of course, life had a peculiar sense of humor and his younger brother hit a new low - sadly admirable, given that he was already at the very bottom, but someone brought a shovel with him. Grand theft auto, petty crimes all over, domestic disputes (to put it mildly)...Wayne breathed a sigh of relief when he found out he got locked up before he escalated even further. He didn't want to believe Danny had it in him to seriously hurt someone, but given the right or wrong circumstances, he couldn't guarantee there wouldn't be a casualty like a random witness, someone trying to protect their property...yeah, Danny was definitely better off where he ended up.

As for his son Eddie...Wayne couldn't guarantee the same, even though he vowed to try his damn hardest.

Eddie was a scrawny kid with an ugly buzz cut and dark eyes so large he seemed afraid of anything and everything. When Wayne met with the social worker and they talked over coffee, Wayne couldn't help but notice how Eddie grasped his milkshake, as if someone would take it from him the very next second. His twitchy fingers wrapped around the glass in a vice-like grip and even though Wayne was convinced he was listening to every word said, he kept stubbornly staring into the drink, refusing to meet anyone's eye. And even though the kid was barely in middle school, Wayne found the rigid focus all too familiar, painfully so. It was the first time he found himself truly and purely hating Danny, feeling a burning coal in his chest at what his so-called upbringing did to this boy.

In the end, Eddie was sent to live with him, only a bag with clothes too big, a few trinkets and a single book, worn from constant reading. The Hobbit.

The first day, the now joint Munson household was quiet. Eddie was chewing on an improvised pasta Wayne had made - on his own, thank you for asking, with all three ingredients - and looking anywhere but at his uncle. And Wayne was a quiet man himself so sure, they could stay in silence until Eddie graduated and moved somewhere else, but there was a part of Wayne that didn't want this for Eddie. He wanted at least one Munson to turn out alright.

"Hope it's edible. I...don't cook much," he tried, swallowing a lump of poorly mixed spices.

Eddie's eyes were fixed to his plate. He nodded, the movement almost indiscernible, and then returned to his pasta.

So Wayne tried again. "I saw that book you have," he mentioned and boy, was that a wrong move. Eddie almost curled into himself, his eyes darting to Wayne for the first time - but not with curiosity. With defiance and fear.

He didn't say anything, only stared at Wayne. As if he was daring him to say something, do something.

So Wayne did. "It looked interesting. The Hobbit? I've never heard of it. Is it any good?"

The slight relaxation in Eddie's shoulders seemed promising. "It's my favorite," he said, his eyes returning to the pasta, stabbing a few offending pieces with his fork. "It has an adventure in it. An unexpected one."

Wayne huffed a quiet laugh under his breath. "Ah. So somethin' like this?"

Eddie looked at him again with those large dark eyes. "...yeah."

And then it was quiet again, but this was less forced, less tense. Wayne thought that maybe this was how Eddie would be normally, a withdrawn soul just like himself, but just as he chewed on the last mouthful of less than ideally cooked pasta, Eddie broke the silence.

"Why'd you take me in?" Eddie blurted out and seemed to regret it immediately, biting in to his own lip. "It's...it's not like you knew me before and you could have refused, I...I would understand that. I think. But you agreed to let me stay and I'm grateful and all, but...I just don't get it. Why?" Pausing for a moment, he added "sorry if that's a stupid question. I just want to understand."

It might have taken Wayne a second longer than ideal to answer, but he didn't want to spit ketchup on the poor boy who already seemed flustered enough. He held his finger up and quickly washed down the food with a gulp of soda. "First rule of this house, son," he said and smiled at Eddie, actually smiled, although his facial muscles protested. "Ain't no such thing as stupid questions. Anything you want to ask, just ask. And if I know the answer, I will give it. Understood?"

Eddie was maintaining eye contact now and he nodded eagerly. Almost too eagerly. It made Wayne reconsider in that very second, because this wasn't a withdrawn soul like he'd suspected - this was a boy who wanted to open up to someone so, so badly. "Yes," he muttered and Wayne couldn't help himself, he reached out, slowly, and ruffled whatever hair remained on Eddie's head. And Eddie didn't move away, just watched his hand like a hawk and, when he ensured he wasn't in any danger, even leaned into it, giving Wayne a small smile.

Returning to his side of the table, Wayne leaned in. "Why'd I take you in? I could give you a bunch of reasons, none would fully cover it. Obligation, sure. You're family, that's another thing. But most of all, I just..." He trailed off, finding the correct words, the truthful words. Throughout all of it, Eddie was watching him, waiting. "I guess I just want to give you something better, Eddie. Danny and I, we didn't have the best family, not sure how much he told you. And there ain't much we can do to fix ourselves, but I look at you and I think...maybe I can make a difference right here. Because you seem like a bright kid to me and I just...I just want to do right by you. Even if I'm the only one."

Eddie swallowed thickly, fidgeting. "And...and if I turn out like him?" he mumbled, struggling to keep the eye contact. "What if you...you do that, but I still fail?"

Damn, Wayne Munson did not cry, but the fear, the insecurity in Eddie's voice tugged at something in his chest. He reached over again and grasped Eddie's bony shoulder. "Then you'll still have home here for as long as you want. All I want from you is to give it your best shot. That work for you?"

The boy smiled at him and nodded, wiping at his eyes. "Yeah."

"Good." They were grinning at each other over dirty plates, the smell of ketchup and cheap soda between them. "And I meant what I said. Anythin' you want to ask, go for it. No question is a stupid question."

Eddie smirked at him and Wayne might have detected a glint of mischief in his eyes. He thought he'd bend over backwards to keep it there, to give this frightened kid a bit of childhood back. "Anything, huh?" he asked.

"Yup. But count on me askin' a lot of stuff too. Like," he paused, rubbing his chin in deep thought.

It was ridiculous. But Wayne remembered what the doctors told him when he returned from Vietnam - sometimes to get moving, you need something unexpected, something to confuse the anxiety right out of your brain. So he dug deep and hard into his imaginative side and pointed at Eddie. "What is the single superior animal noise? No long thinking, go."

Eddie blinked at him, once, twice, and then he burst out laughing. He kicked his knee into the table and the dishes rattled around, but he couldn't stop himself. He was wheezing, grasping the side of the table and trying to breathe. And if that didn't make Wayne's heart swell. "You...you looked so serious!" gasped Eddie between snorts and giggles.

"It's a serious question. Now, Eddie, what's your answer?" Wayne tried to keep his face under control, but Eddie's grin was contagious.

The boy cleared his throat and leaned forwards, brow furrowing in concentration. "So many fine choices," he said in a contemplative voice that made Wayne nearly choke on his soda because it sounded like a poor imitation of a British TV celebrity. "I have to go with ribbit. Unique and well-balanced." Glancing at Wayne, he shot back. "The soup to beat all the soups!"

Wayne smirked and crossed his arms. "That's an easy one. Bean soup. And before you ask - not from a can."

"Knew it."

It gradually becomes their thing.

Whenever Eddie is lost in thought, when he comes back from school with a new bruise, Wayne shoots a ridiculous question at him, what is the best race in the Middle Earth for a basketball tournament, what is the ideal number of dried peas to have in your kitchen, and Eddie's smile is back, as radiant as ever.

When Wayne returns from the plant, grumbling about the stupid idiots from the previous shift making his job harder, he finds Eddie bouncing on his feet, waiting for him to come home to ask what is the ideal sole color for running shoes. "Not the shoe color, the sole, Wayne, what is the sole color that makes you just want to run? No thinking, go!"

Even years after Eddie's hair has grown into the thick wavy locks that Wayne isn't envious of, nope, not at all, they still randomly yell questions at each other across the trailer. Eddie hollers "WHAT'S THE FUNNIEST FRUIT IN THE WHOLE WORLD WAYNE?!" and Wayne shouts back "IT'S PEACH BECAUSE IT'S STUPIDLY HAIRY JUST LIKE A CERTAIN NEPHEW OF MINE AND STOP YELLING, BOY!". Wayne asks between quiet puffs of smoke outside "if you had to wear a hat for the rest of your life, what hat would that be?" and Eddie blows out a circle and snickers "a top hat." There's a joke there and Wayne smiles to himself, wondering if he should acknowledge it.

And eventually, when his boy is returned to him after the hell that was March of 1986, when Eddie slowly heals and the Harrington boy doesn't leave his side, Wayne has the perfect question but he bides his time, watching the two fools dance around each other like the foolish fools they are (has he mentioned they are fools? Because they absolutely are). He's hoping he won't need to ask the question, maybe it will be enough to just wait, but nope, he's had enough. Life is too short for people like him and Eddie. So he grabs a couple of beers, drags Eddie to the porch of their government-funded house and after a couple of cans, starts their favorite pasttime.

"What's the best pink thing to ever exist?"

"Plastic flamingos," responds Eddie and sips his beer. "The one piece of clothing humanity should have never invented?"

"Ties, who's supposed to learn to tie that thing...the best cat name?"

"Household or wild?"

"Wild."

"Fluffles. Imagine being eaten by that in the woods. You'd never live it down, even after dying. The most humiliating job ever?"

"TV weather guy. Must suck to be wrong all the time." He doesn't even pause, just continues in the disinterested, flat tone they always use for their late night rounds of no-stupid-question. "The best place to take Steve for a date?"

"Somewhere calm, I think a picnic, he doesn't do well with a lot of loud noises or people," replies Eddie immediately. He sips his beer and freezes, mid-gulp, when his mind finally catches up with his mouth.

Wayne just pats his shoulder reassuringly. "Sounds like a great plan to me." When Eddie doesn't answer or move, he adds "swallow, boy."

Eddie pours the rest of his beer into his mouth and chuckles at Wayne, breathless. "That sounds more like a second date idea. Uh, shit. Sorry. I mean..."

"I'll pretend I stopped listening at the picnic," says Wayne, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays his sternness. "Just stay safe, Eddie. But if I have to keep watchin' you and that pretty boy dance around each other for a week longer, I swear I'll have you two sit down and talk it out, kindergarten style. So you'd better ask him out before I give him the talk."

With the corner of his eye, he sees Eddie nodding, grasping the can for support. "Will do. Just...are you..." He bites his lip, turns to Wayne. "Does this change anything?"

"I sure hope it does!" Wayne flicks the ash off his cigarette. "For one, I'd expect your room to be much cleaner when you get a boyfriend."

They're both chuckling now, clinking their empty beer cans together. "Smart ass," says Eddie but it has no bite, no venom. "Thank you, dad," he says quietly, and Wayne can't help himself, he throws his arm over Eddie's shoulders and pulls him into a very uncomfortable sideways hug. It's the best hug in his life.

When Eddie throws open the door the next Friday and hollers "WHAT IS THE BEST CHAPSTICK FLAVOR FOR KISSING?" and Wayne answers, he gets corrected for the first time. "Wrong," says Eddie and wipes at his mouth, still grinning wildly. "It's cherry."

And Wayne gets proven right once more when, not even a year later, after rebuilding of Hawkins, practically adopting Steve into their small weird family, Eddie proves to him that he's not just scarily observant, but he learns the worst tricks in the book.

Because sure, Wayne might have buried his own needs and desires so deep they're practically at the Earth's core, but then there was a sympathetic man close to his age, maybe a bit younger, who approached Wayne and told him he's so happy for him that Eddie is back, that he taught Eddie in middle school and he never believed a single word about his involvement because that boy is incapable of harming anyone, that's what he said. And he invited Wayne for a beer because some people were still treating the name Munson as the plague itself and Wayne might be finding himself looking at Eddie and Steve, wishing that he was younger, he had more courage...

So he's still mostly lost in those thoughts when Eddie starts pestering him during one of Steve's shifts, meaning they're home alone and bored. It's late July, they're both sitting on the porch, sipping beer again, and Wayne has already answered questions about the mug to end all mugs, whether soccer would be more fun to watch with human-sized insects and who is the single person from all Hawkins to be sent to Mars to never return. And then Eddie asks "what's the best movie to take Scott Clarke for the first date?" and Wayne's brain short circuits.

When he comes to, Eddie is smirking at him sympathetically, offering him a new can of beer because Wayne dropped the old one. "Come on, did you think I wouldn't notice?" he asks and nudges his shoulder. "I can sense the "desperately in love" Munson eyes from a mile away. I've got them patented, you know. So. Your answer?"

Wayne coughs and stammers out that it would have to be something smart because Scott is smart. And that he isn't smart enough to figure out what he'd like, so it's not really a good question...

But Eddie just shakes his head and reaches into his pocket, producing two tickets to the Hawkins movie theatre. "Wrong, Wayne. Or not completely. Mr. Clarke - Scott, shit, that's difficult to get used to, he loves smart things, but he's also a massive nerd, as our lady Applejack loves to call him and everyone within a certain interest group. And I happen to know there's something called RoboCop playing tomorrow. I also happen to have two tickets right here, to know that Scott is free and that he'll be waiting for you 15 minutes before the movie starts."

Wayne gapes at him, mouth hanging open and speechless for the first time in his life. His eyes are traveling between the tickets and Eddie's smile while he's desperately trying to stomp out the flames of hope in his heart. "But...but what if he doesn't see me like that?" he asks and he hates how small and insecure he sounds, but Eddie needs to understand that things are different for people like him, for his age, his...whole person.

His nephew - no, son - throws his head back and laughs into the setting sun. "Look at that," he grins and shoves the two tickets into Wayne's hand. "That has to be the first stupid question I've ever heard from you. Let's see..." he taps on his chin, pretending to think. "Ask me again tomorrow after the movie, okay? If you still need to ask."

The next evening, Eddie leans next to the door when Wayne returns from the movie. "So..." he drawls, raising his eyebrows. "Do you still need me to answer?"

And Wayne huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. "Nah, no more stupid questions in this household."

[aphroditesmoon]

kerosene (part iii)

jacaerys velaryon x targ!reader

summary: after you find out your family has been orchestrating a plan to use you as a scapegoat to assure your brother's reign. You pledge your allegiance to the black queen and switch alliances as pleaded by your secret lover himself, prince jacaerys velaryon.

A/N; this is kind of a filler chapter since I've been busy w exams to write anything, but I promise the next chapter won't be as boring💀🫶 also do you guys want smut in this series orr

taglist:

@simrah1012

@remuslupinwifee @whenmypartysover

@green-lxght @blakebearsblog

°°°

You had spent the whole day after your arrival, sleeping.

Jacaerys had insisted you stayed in his room first and refused to hear any complaints from anyone. Though you now share a chamber, you had not seen him since he's led you to his room to rest.

The moment your eyes had met, his composure broke and he all but rushed towards you, pulling you into his embrace, you face buried in his chest while he holds you tight. It did not matter to either of you on who's watching, you were finally reunited, nothing else mattered.

You were led inside to explain what was going on, and so you faced the true queen and told her of the wedding date being cut short in order to secure lord Borros' alliance for the war.

Though the queen held a worried expression, the prince consort seemed pleased by this statement.

"Borros' only wants what can benefit him, if he can't marry [name], then he would gain nothing with the greens, we can try and persuaded him to send his troops in our defense instead." He suggests.

This made the queen snap at him. "And what do we have to offer him? We have no daughters to wed to him, do you wish me to sell back this girl off like her mother did?"

Daemon shook his head, still remaining calm.

"No. We marry Jacaerys to one of his daughters."

°°°

You had thought that the early conversation would've kept your mind from sleeping, but with the tiredness of your journey, sleep found you fast as you indulge yourself in the warmth and comfort of your lover's bed.

Jace had only entered hours later, you had not noticed him at first, only when you feel the dip at the opposite side of the he'd you lay on, you realize he was there.

Even in the midst of your sleepiness, you reach a hand out to him, he immediately holds it in his own, intertwining your fingers together, you open your eyes a little and see him leaning over you, a concerned expressions washes over his face.

"Is it about what Daemon said?" You guessed.

He shakes his head softly before planting a kiss on your forehead. "Not tonight my love, go back to sleep hm?" His voice was gentle yet it sends shivers through your spine everytime he speaks.

You're often reminded of how much you've missed to hear it.

Too tired to argue with him, your body obeys and your eyes shut closed again as you let the peaceful slumber overtake you.

°°°

Jacaerys wanted to make his stepfather chew his own foot.

Your unexpected appearance had granted him a few moments of joy before that arseling had opened his mouth and completely ruined it.

He couldn't believe you were there, and that exactly what he said to your over and over z as he held you in his arms, afraid you'd disappear if he doesn't hold on tight.

You had simply assured him that you were real and present, slipping your hand in his and squeezing it hard, before his parents had interrupted.

The suggestion was absolutely horse shit if he'd say so himself. Lord Borros' alliance was as easily replaceable as a fucking shoe.

He had shown where his loyalties lies when he agreed to the marriage arrangement with the greens, who's to say he wouldn't betray them if Alicent had came up with a new arrangement herself? after all, she had sons as well.

He had made sure you were safely tucked in his bed before going to confront his parents.

Daemon was unbothered by his display of anger, calling it a child's tantrum, fueling his rage even more.

"You are only againts this because you wish to wed that girl." He points out.

"[name], has nothing to do with this.

-I admit I have strong feelings for her, but I would do my duty, if it was a good strategy. This however, would be a fragile bridge between our family and the Baratheon's, Lord Borros' is a serpent under the covers, trusting his allegiance after he's openly stated his loyalties to Aegon would be a mistake even a fool could see a mile a way." He force himself to speak calmly, refusing to let his stepfather rile him up and paint him as immature.

Before Daemon could interject, his mother steps in cutting both men down.

"I agree, with Jacaerys, The Baratheon's alliance would be a fragile one, that is if he'd even agree to one.

-I understand, husband, what you are trying to do, but it's far too late for our houses to meet an understanding, He has disrespected our house and spoke againts his father's oath for me as the true heir of the iron throne, to almost beg for his help is unseemly and humiliating."

Daemon seem to have soften at his wife's words, he sighs heavily before nodding at her.

"Before we make the wrong decisions, we'll try to solve the one in front of us. [name]. It won't be long until Alicent finds out where her daughter has went, and she doesn't even have her dragon here for our use, she'll only be seen as a hostage." It was Rhaenyra's turn to sigh, her eyes seemed tired as she rubs her face.

"We'll come up with something in the morning, it's been a full day for us all, let us rest" the prince consort spoke. They all agreed and bid eachother goodnight before leaving.

Relief and warmth spread through his whole body when the view of your sleeping came into view.

He changed himself into his nightclothes quietly, not wanting to wake you.

Though your eyes flutter open anyways when he goes to lay next to you, propping himself up with his elbow to study your face.

His hand grasp yours that was reaching out to him and he feels his heart relaxes as your skin touches his. He had missed the feeling of it.

"Is it about what Daemon said?" You asked groggily. He shook his head shushing you back to sleep. He would not have you worry over his mess, not when you've already been through so much to be here, to be with him.

°°°

You have never been in a situation this uncomfortable and awkward.

Sitting next to your lover,. opposite his parents, as you try to enjoy breakfast without feeling nausea.

You can't tell if the urge to throw up came from nerves or the tiredness of your journey. It didn't matter at the moment you supposed.

"So, I think it's a good time to, discuss certain issues at hand, now that we're all here." The Queen stated.

She gave you a reassuring smile, contrasting Daemon's analysing stare at you. You muster the courage to reciprocate with a small smile back.

"[name], I hope you know that your presence is very welcomed here, I know it must have been hard to make the decision you did, to leave you own family, to risk ser Harrold's life. And if it's anything I know about you at least is how much you hate causing anyone harm, I applaud you of your bravery, sister"

You were taken aback by her speech, not really by the speech itself, but by her calling you sister.

It truly warmed you that she saw you as her own family.

"Thank you ...sister. You are right, it has not been easy." Was all you could speak out. You had refused to think of your mother's panic or ser Harrold being questioned or tortured, you could not bare to think it.

Your eyes stare back down at your food as you let thoughts of the consequences of your actions run through your mind. Gods protect ser Harrold, and Gods protect me from my mother's wrath.

Jacaerys senses your body tensing and slips his hand in yours, reassuringly squeezing it. You were grateful he was there.

"Though, I am grateful for your presence my dear, war is near. You should know I do not intend to let them get away with taking my throne, and my son." Her tone becomes more stern as her smile slowly disappears.

"Your dragon, Ciervo, I hear, is being put in chains?" You nodded. Daemon hummed thoughtful.

"I'm guessing we can't trust any guards to try and free him, do you have any other allies at court besides ser Harrold, [name]?"

You nod your head again before stating: "Ser Erryk." This has Daemon pleased.

"Of course, his brother has sworn his loyalty to us, It's only logical the other feels guilt for being apart from him." He thinks out loud.

"This is good. It's good that they are twins too. We can switch their places, Erryk can tell us of their plans while Arryk takes his place, and then again." Jacaerys starts.

"This way, we can continually get information without raising suspicion." Daemon immediately agrees with the prince, a rare sight indeed. They all looked to the Queen for her approval.

"Very well. Tell ser Arryk to write to his brother discreetly to discuss ser Erryk's alliance, we must first be sure where his loyalties lies. It could be that his kindness to [name] was done out of pity or affection to her and not for us." She reasons.

You could feel Jace's hand tighten around yours suddenly. Though when you turned to him, his face remained composed and guarded as he nods at his mom's explanation.

Daemon signals at Jace to go and he nods at him before rising from his seat, squeezing your hand before letting it ago and sending you a small smile. He leaves immediately to find ser Erryk to deliver his mother's order, leaving you with the two dragons.

Rhaenyra eyes you carefully before smiling softly at you. "Now, let us discuss your place in my court, and what we do with your situation."

[starlightshadowsworld]

Jercabeth Circe Island AU where Jason is on Circe's Island with Reyna and Hylla, Percy isn't Guinea pigged at the start.

First bit

Annabeth and Percy getting closer to Jason, only calling him by his true name when no one can hear and see his face light up everytime. He doesn't say much, if anything at all around Circe but he tells a story with barely any words.

It's a comforting silence between them.

They refuse to call him boy like Circe does, Annabeth has to physically stop herself from yelling at her when Circe "accidentally" spills a drink on Jason. Luckily Percy manages to duck behind and dries him off Jason shakes his head in silent alarm but he's thankful and it shows on his face.

However, unluckily Circe saw and turned Percy into a Guinea pig, threathing Jason with the same if he disobeyed her. Jason however did disobey her and managed to pass a message onto Annabeth and telling her where he was being held. Allowing for Annabeth to free not only Percy... But the rest of the captives.

But as much as they've grown to care for him, Annabeth and Percy have to choose the quest, and the look Jason gives them as they leave and chaos is flooding around him is one that breaks their hearts. There's tears in his eyes that he doesn't shed, he doesn't say a word but he doesn't have to.

There's nothing they can say, Jason shakes his head softly and walks away to join Hylla and Reyna who are calling for him.

When they leave they don't look back, Percy takes it the worst because he said... He said to him he'd save him but he couldn't. The betrayal in Jason's eyes burns him inside, and Annabeth isn't much better.

They gained his trust and left, neither wanted to but they had no choice. They were running out of time and yet neither felt good about leaving Jason behind.

Meanwhile Jason ran with his older sisters, he felt his own heart ache and fell into anger. He had believed, he had truly believed they had meant it when they said they'd save him. But it had been like everything else on Circe's Island, fake.

And yet Jason screamed into the winds with something akin to rage and greif.

The pirates were freed, taunting them over their rescuers being the one to leave them behind. And taking them captive, Hylla held him in her arms and Reyna sat beside him, concern in their eyes. He looked down, apologising to them, that this was his fault.

"You didn't know, you wouldn't have known they'd do this"

"It's okay, we're strong Jase. We are family, we will get out of this together."

They did not blame him, they blamed Annabeth and Percy who they saw as nothing. Who had taken advantage of their brothers kind heart and left them here to rot. But they would survive, they were daughters of Bellona and the son of Jupiter, the Child of Lupa.

They would not go down like this.

Perhaps it's a blessing that as they continued with their quest, as the others began to plot their way through survival that they would forget each other... For now.

But that ache in Annabeth, Percy and Jason's hearts as if something was missing never left.

Because the mind may move on but the heart never forgets.

@derpy-grackson Soo I may have made it a weee bit angsty. But hey we get pirate Jason soo win win.

[beclynn-herondale]

Similarities that I see between Jace and Céline

(these are just my thoughts. Press read more to see them.)

↑ this chaotic energy. You think he got it from Stephen? Nah.

Her anxiety reminds me of Jace's. And like their thought process was similar in ways.

They both struggled with belonging.

Céline corrected Robert when he said "Just like a warlock. Always for sale."

And Céline was like "Always on sale."

Again Jace energy.

Céline knew Amatis, Stephen's wife. At least, she knew enough. Amatis was sharp-tongued and stuck up. She was opinionated, argumentative, stubborn, and not even that pretty. There were also rumors that she still secretly associated with her werewolf brother. Céline didn't much care about that—she had nothing against Downworlders. But she had plenty against Amatis, who obviously didn't appreciate what she had. Stephen needed someone who would admire him, agree with him, support him. Someone like Céline. If only she could make him see that for himself.

_

Jace's smile was as bland as buttered toast. "Go on, go after him. Pat his head and tell him he's still your super special little guy. Isn't that what you want to do?"

But he couldn't look at Simon without wanting to kill someone.

“And even back then, in that stupid coffee shop. When I saw you sitting on the couch with Simon, even then that felt wrong to me—i should have been the one sitting with you. The one that made you laugh like that. I couldn't get rid of that feeling. That it should have been me.”

↑ Their bitterness, anger, jealousy, and envy towards the person who had the person they wanted and in general has the same energy in my opinion.

They both were angry and jealous of people who had it better or they considered to be good—Like, that was why Jace hated Simon so much at first, because Simon was everything Jace thought he'd never get to be, he just didn't realize it.—And Céline was angry of the kids in the academy who had loving parents and good childhoods, and weren't damaged like she was—they both were angry because somebody was someone or had something they thought they'd never get to be or have. (In Céline's case she never actually got it, not really.)

They both like to wander around when upset.

They both aren't too fond of the Silent Brothers. And I think that has to do with their head being full of certain things they don't want others to know, and the Silent Brothers speak in your mind, almost like they're reading your thoughts.

They're both observant, which could be from growing up in abusive and toxic environments but could also just be they're observant people.

They both can tell when someone is off. We see this when Céline sees through Valentine's mask. Jace often saw through the lies of people in TMI and still does.

And the both hate being pitied. Like it angers them when people pity them, we see that with Jace quite often in TMI, but we see it when Dominique says this: “Every Downworlder in Paris knows about poor Céline Montclaire, wandering the city like a murderous little Éponine. We all feel a little sorry for you.”

And then Céline thought this: Céline lived with a steady, secret simmer of rage, but now she felt it boiling over.

↑ Again, the above reminds me of Jace. He lived with anger that he kept under control but would boil over when triggered.

They're both sensitive. And get hurt easily.

“I wish I could be more like you,” she admitted.

In what sense?

“You know, just shut off my feelings? Feel nothing. For anybody.”

There was a long pause, and she wondered if she had offended him. Was that even possible? Finally, his cool, steady voice spoke.

This is a wish you should dispense with. Feeling is what makes us human. Even the most difficult feelings. Perhaps especially those. Love, loss, longing—this is what it means to truly be alive.

__

“I think—my father was sorry he had a parabatai,” he said. “Now I have to go live with a man my father was sorry about. I don't want to be weak, I don't want to be sorry. I want to be the best.”

If you pretend to feel nothing, the pretense may become true, said Jem. That would be a pity.

↑ They both wished to feel nothing, and had Jem tell them that wasn't as great as they thought. But they both still desperately wanted to not feel.

When she was a child, her parents had often refused her iratzes after training sessions, especially when her injuries were caused by her own mistakes. Let the pain remind you to do better next time, they told her. All these years later she was still making the same mistakes.

_

“No! it's better for your parents not to know it happened at all. It was just bad luck that one of them got me. I'm a good fighter,” Jonathan protested sharply.

“It's my fault I got hurt,” said Jonathan. “I know excuses are for incompetents. It won't happen again.”

↑ this bit on making mistakes, or when getting hurt.

Céline always carried a misericord blade.

↑ Reminds me of someone else who always carries blades.

They both were aware of the consequences of putting a rune on someone that they weren't 100% sure were Nephilim, and it was different circumstances but they did it anyway. Jace gave Clary her first rune and Céline gave Rosemary her first rune (I think).

More furious at her own instinct for mercy. After all, her parents had never shown any to her. Her parents had done their best to teach her that mercy was weakness, and cruelty was strength.

_

Jonathan said the word "weakness" with horror. Jem wondered what a man who had drilled a boy to fight like that might have considered weakness.

↑ Mercy, kindness, gentleness, etc. Was taught as weakness to them both growing up.

They both hate being predictable. Kinda like when Rosemary knew Céline would keep her secret. Céline hated that she knew that. Remember in CoA when everyone was guessing that Jace said no to Valentine, and he hated it.

They both never really felt like they were ever a kid. Because again, the environment they grew up in forced them to grow up faster than they should have. Which is why Jace didn't think of himself as one when he threw himself into battle.

like Jace I don't think Céline liked to upset the balance of things, meaning they don't pry and don't pressure. Which often gets them labeled as "not too bright" or "unobservant" they're both observant, they just don't say it out-loud. Jace is definitely like this, but I see Céline as this too. Stephen said she always needed to be told what to do, but I don't think it was that exactly, I think she just didn't like to upset things. Which growing up in an abusive and toxic environment does that. But I think it's also just part of who they are.

That sweet and obedient daughter of the provençal countryside. They knew how devoted she was to her parents. Such a dutiful daughter.

↑ Valentine often called Jace his obedient son. I see Jace in this part as well. Sebastian called him Valentine's "sweet boy."

She could close the door on the past, start again. She could choose a life without pain, without suffering or fear.

But who would she be without pain?

This also reminds me of Jace. Obviously he did end up choosing to walk away from Valentine. But there are times he doubted, because in reality he himself didn't know who he was without the pain he'd experienced, without his past with Valentine. And they both believed that the pain and suffering had made them stronger. Jace later knows that isn't true, but I see the similarity there.

They're both said to have vulnerability about them that made you wan to protect them. To keep them safe. Jocelyn said you couldn't really hate Céline, and I think it's kinda the same with Jace.

Both of them refused to ask for help. Thinking they could do it all on their own.

Céline could tell how much it hurt—and how determined the woman was to reveal no pain. She knelt by her side. Rosemary flinched away. “Let me see—I can help."

_

“Tell me what happened first.” She tried to yank her wrist back, but his grip was incredibly strong. “I can help you.” — this is in Clary's pov.

↑ Their willingness to help the pretty stranger they didn't know.

They both often felt they didn't have a choice in some things.

They both felt achingly alone at some point. And very much misunderstood.

The thought of losing the only family they ever had scared them, and they were willing to do anything to keep them. Even if in Céline's case hers wasn't that real.

They were both said to be beautiful, and breakable. Fragile almost. These were Jocelyn's words. That beautiful things were easily broken.

They both grew up denied of love and care.

Céline had low self esteem in a lot of areas. We often see Jace as the confident character who doesn't have insecurities or low self-esteem. but he does. Jace didn't like himself, his looks don't play a part here, he didn't like himself. He actually didn't feel good enough or worth much, that's why he made so many superiority jokes, because he truly didn't feel good enough but had to make everyone believe he did. Céline didn't feel good enough either, but she tried not to let it show.

Their childhood gave them bad coping mechanisms and suicidal tendencies. They both self harmed in ways, believing that pain made you stronger is one of them.

We often look over the fact that while some of Jace's mental struggles did come from the trauma of his childhood and growing up around war, that he was already at a high risk with a mother who experienced similar things. Because if you have a parent who has mental illness the offspring are at higher risk of developing one. And his childhood didn't help with that.

And we know what they both truly wanted was to be loved and safe. Really. Jace always thought he wanted to fight all the time, but by the end of tmi he realized he just truly wanted to be happy and left alone, he just wanted Clary and his family. Céline wanted that too, but she never got it.

You all realize they would understand each other, right? Like if Cassie ever did something where they somehow met, Céline would understand Jace and he would understand her.

Céline would have never raised Jace with anything but love and care. She would have made sure he never knew a childhood like hers. But he did. He ended up knowing what that was like. And it would have broken her even more to know that.

But she would probably stab Valentine in the face, which I'd like to see.

Friendly reminder that Jace looks like her around the eyes (no I won't shut up about this.)

There's probably more but until we learn more we won't know. Just remember he may be a Herondale but Céline is also there.

@khaleesiofalicante I tagged you 😎

[buckyjamess-archive]

𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓲𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲 ❁ 𝓫𝓾𝓬𝓴𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼

chapter eighteen • a/n: last chapter folks- wanna thank all those who interacted/read it, I hope you enjoyed it! ♡ gonna miss these fools, ngl • wordcount: 2k • warnings: nothing but fluff. Parenthood. Babies. Kids.

summary

going through  rough years after losing your husband, you try to raise your daughter the best you can. With the help from the wilson's you make the best of it but the road is bumpy when sam introduces you to his friend.

masterlist

His hands are warmer and maybe even bigger as his fingers are intertwined with yours, gently swaying back and forth, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand or a light squeeze to remind you he's still there. 

a few steps ahead, rosie groans, huffs and puffs as she pushes the stroller the best she can. Talking to her little brother who gurgles back just as much. 

"You're really heavy!" 

a soft pink, round handbag with minnie mouse printed on the front hangs loosely in Steve's other hand. Handed to him seconds after leaving the restaurant by Rosie herself as she offered to push her little brother back home. A heavy diaper bag he'd taken off the stroller to take away some weight, hangs of his shoulder– you told him you could carry one of the two but Steve being Steve, refused your offer and instead clamped his hand in yours.

A day out planned by the man walking next to you. A day with the four of you, letting Rosie and JJ get used to Steve being around for more than the two hours every night before getting tucked in. That Steve wasn't just a friend anymore– though Rosie 'just knew' when you told her Steve was more than a friend, a special friend. 

'I don't kiss my friends like that' 

Rosie didn't mind, or at least you think. She was good with everyone, stranger or not. Opening up to Steve wasn't a problem, becoming friends with Steve came easy for the girl. 

And bucky, bucky would always be dad.

'Now I have three daddies. My real daddy, my normal daddy and steve.' 

And though you never intended to let Steve in your life so quickly, it became serious pretty fast. 

Delicately glueing back each other's pieces left of a broken heart; giving solace, a shoulder to cry on and someone to hold. Steve and you never intended to become this, you were just friends, used-to-be-coworkers. It happened. Bucky no longer floating through your head every other minute or feeling that ache in your chest– just you and Steve and for now after the heartbreak Bucky caused you could in all honesty say that Steve Rogers treated you better than anyone ever did.

The stroller comes to a halt when Rosie stills in front of the apartment block. She let's go of the stroller and places both hands on her sides, bright yellow sunglasses resting on the bridge of her nose, she sighs heavily. 

"That was heavy." 

You and Steve chuckle at Rosie her stance as if an old man admiring his self-built furniture, sarcasm dripping from her body yet as innocent as can be. 

"I bet it was, kid." 

"Yes, JJ eats too much." 

"Says the girl who ate all my fries." 

Letting go of your hand, Steve hands Rosie back her own bag which she happily takes– slipping the diaper bag from his shoulder, you wrap your hand around it and carefully toss it over your own. Hand digging in to find your keys. Taking the few steps up the building, you push open the door and watch how Steve casually carries the stroller and JJ up the steps and follows Rosie in the building.

The walk to the elevator is short, the three of you and the stroller packed tight in the small space– you stay quiet, watching the interaction between Rosie and Steve, your heart grows ten times its size. You thank the gods above for giving you all these amazing men in your life, even if they broke your heart in different ways- teaching you the ways of life, giving the best things to ever exist, trusting you, caring about you..loving you.

Riley, your first real love. The one that changed your life forever. Teaching the ropes of this crazy thing called adult life. Be the calm to your chaos. Showed you love like you'd never had before– sure enough about it all to put a ring around your finger and giving you the most important job of them all; be a mother to a beautiful, funny and feisty daughter. Riley who gave you real heartbreak, leaving an empty hole in your heart and took a piece of your soul with him

Sam who stood by your side through it all. Going through the process together of losing a spouse and partner on the field. Your shoulder to lean on when things got rough, a friend of your man turned into your best friend– showing you the meaning of family by letting you into his own.

Bucky who stole your heart so fast, you never had a chance to let it settle– a wild man willing to wait. A wild man who showed you that life after Riley could be something beautiful; taught you how to love again, brought you back to life and gave you the gift you call your son, gave Rosie a father figure. Bucky the best mistake you'd ever made in your life.

And maybe all these men were needed to get you with the one. Without Riley no Sam and without Sam no Bucky, and you'd never have met Steve if you didn't move to Brooklyn. All these men lead you to him.

Steve. The man who picked up the pieces and put them back together– the man you so desperately needed in your life. The calm that Riley once gave you and the wild and silly bucky once showed. The one for real this time.

Even if things didn't go your way, men changing every chapter of your book– life was pretty amazing. 

Steve must've seen the slight wobble of your chin and your eyes filling with tears. His firm hand back into yours, you look up to meet his blues, you shoot him a tight lipped smile.

"Mommy, why are you crying?" 

You inhale deeply, quickly wiping away the tears that have made their way down your cheeks and not trusting your own voice, you smile at your daughter but shrug. 

"You know what I think?" Steve quips, the hand that's intertwined with yours now snaking around your waist to pull you ever closer into his side "I think mom's just really happy." 

Rosie nods unsure but gives a toothy grin "then I'm happy too, then we're all happy." 

"Then we're all happy." 

He reads you like an open book, something you got to love and hate over the last few weeks. Nitpicking little flaws to get under your skin or be the biggest sap whenever you're feeling down; he knows you like the back of his hand. 

"This is so stupid," you breath out a shaky chuckle "Jesus, I'm crying in an elevator–" 

"It's not stupid," Steve reassures "we're all just very happy, right?" 

"Yeah." You nod. 

Squeezing your side, Steve let's you know he's there and plants a kiss to your temple before resting his chin upon your head.

"I love you, sweetheart." 

Bucky can't quite believe it himself; just a month ago he labeled Steve Rogers as his arch enemy and wish bad things upon the blonde and now, now bucky hopes and wishes the blonde would treat you better than anyone else– welcomed Steve into the mess. 

At ease, okay, alright but above all grateful. You didn't kick him out of your life or that of his kids– you wouldn't be the first mother to do such a thing, he's seen it on TV multiple times. Bucky's grateful that you and him still were a thing just not the same. Parents of your kids, friends.

Though jealousy would strike once in a while and he reminded himself of the mistake he'd made, It was good this way.

Big helium balloons in the shape of letters and numbers float above the table shoved against the wall, reading 'JJ 1 YEAR'. Silver birthday garlands hanging from ceilings along the baby blue and white balloons– table filled with snacks, gifts and drinks. Cramped in your apartment but done together– texting back and forth, nights of planning brought you all here, JJ his first birthday.

Friends and family here to celebrate something the two of you made from love.

Bucky leans against the kitchen bar, one hand tucked deep into the pocket of his jeans and the other wrapped around a bottle of beer. Eyes upon the small crowd gathered and lands on Steve, barely on his knees next to a side table, small plastic tiara on his head as Rosie applies makeup on the guy's face from the set she'd just got as a gift from uncle Sam.

Bucky smiles, at least you picked a child magnet, a guy who'll love his kids as much as the two of you do. 

Bucky scans the crowd again and spots you without any problem, another smile on his face at the sight of his godchild hailey holding JJ, probably gossiping around with you.

It's good this way.

"Hey man." 

Snapping out of his own world, Bucky meets the eyes of a man he hasn't spoken to in months; sam. Not since he got to learn about Bucky's mistake.

"Hey." Bucky shoots him a tight lipped smile.

Standing still next to Bucky, Sam leans against the bar in the same stance and follows Bucky's gaze to the crowd to you, his son and hailey.

"He looks like you." Sam confesses "scary." 

Letting his head fall, Bucky chuckles and nods "at least we know it's mine." 

Sam chuckles along till it dies down, silence falling over both men as they keep watching the scene in front of them. How you leave Hailey with her nephew and mingle with some friends– bucky can feel Sam's eyes burning on his face. 

"Told you so, didn't I?" 

Bucky snorts "Let's not go there, I've learned my lesson." 

"Do you?" Sam quips with a grin on his face "No new love on the horizon?" 

Bucky nods, he has learned his lesson and he knows he'll never find someone like you again– he has definitely learned his lesson and definitely not ready for something new.

"No man, I'm going to focus on my kids." Bucky breathes out a soft chuckle "apparently I still have two." 

"Rosie loves you– I have to thank you for that, giving Rosie a father figure." 

"Wouldn't trade it for anything else." 

"I know." 

Another, comfortable silence falls like a thick blanket. Knowing each other well enough to know what they're thinking– a smile creeping on both men's faces at the sight of you pushing yourself past some people and beelining towards the duo.

"Mind If I join?" 

Scooting aside, both Sam and bucky make space for you in between and your arm that snakes around Bucky's back gives him a warm and fuzzy feeling– he pulls you closer into his side with his arm dropped over your shoulder 

"A year ago you nearly passed out." You mumble softly 

"I didn't pass out." Bucky scoffs 

"I said nearly–" 

"Not even nearly." 

"The nurses had to sit you down." 

"They never–" 

"They did!" 

It's a game of back and forth, getting underneath each other's skin and Bucky hopes things like this will never change even if you decided to spend the rest of your life with steve. The silly arguments, the silly fights and the lame jokes– bucky would be alright as long as that stayed. 

The squeeze around his side makes Bucky aware you're still there. Locking eyes with yours, one's he's found himself lost in many times before, he copies your smile. 

"What?" 

"Nothing– we did good." You state.

Though things didn't go the way it was supposed to, the two of you did good indeed, more than good even. 

"I think we did amazing." Bucky smiles back.

Wrapping his arm around your shoulder a bit tighter, he places a quick kiss on your forehead before following your gaze into the crowd, his daughter, his son, his family and steve.

It's good this way.

"So, guys," Sam clears his throat from beside you "really gotta know what happened on hailey her birthday party that day." 

"No, you don't." You and Bucky chuckle in unison "you really don't."

Taglist: @farfromshawn @Nicollettemarie @wooya1224 @felicityofbakerstreet @agentmstark @sierrax023 @lilyevanswhore @qhbr2013 @buckybarnesobsessed @themaddies-obx @aloserwithoutacause @aanngie @sebby-staan @sweetth1ng @starrystarkey93 @libidinexx @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @gasly-kvyat @brown-bi-beautiful @peter-laufeyson @im-squished @meshlababy @lindseyrae20 @cb97skies @qwccrr @ssprayberrythings @yougottalovefandoms @jbcalway @realgaytrash @natyvwe @poetryazenth @winterberryfox @ahahafudge @okiegirl24 @0moondoodler0 @why-wait-4-eventually @abzidabzy

[acourtofthought]

First off, Lucien has NEVER called the Illyrians anything.

He told Cassian to quit the "brute act" indicating he didn't think that's how Cassian actually is and only because Cassian was being feisty, Lucien said nothing of the Illyrians. He's assigning Cassian's behavior toward Cassian as an individual and nothing to do with his race. Had Lucien thought Cassian was a brute because of being Illyrian, that all Illyrians are brutes, then he wouldn't have told him to drop the act because he would have assumed it impossible.

It's Cassian who claimed "who says it's an act?"

Lucien initially had issues with Rhys and the Night Court Inner Circle because Rhys himself perpetuated a certain image in order to keep Velaris safe. While understandable, you can't then fault other characters for fearing them, for being convinced of their lies (something Feyre even played upon as recently as ACOWAR)

Second, Amren herself calls Cassian a brute:

Az and Rhys have discussed the Illyrians being brutes:

Rhys had started thinking of Tamlin as a warrior brute:

I think "brute" is more an issue of stereotyping, brute being synonymous with "aggressive dumb jock".

Really, the one who seems to have a true issue with the Illyrian race is Az himself who hates an entire group of people simply for the fact that they're Illyrians.

Or those in the Night Court who refused to follow a half bred High Lord.

And yes, Beron killing Jesminda simply because she wasn't of an appropriate blood line for his "High Fae son" is a major issue which no one denies but Beron is clearly set up as being a villain in this series.

The quote of Mor / Eris looks damning and while I think Eris was meant to be a villain at one point, recent books have made it clear that SJM is changing the direction of his character so just as Rhys once did awful things to protect his Court, I think we'll see a similar reveal for Eris. At this point in the books, it's difficult to say what is him playing a part versus what is actually him.

And back to Lucien, he was in love with and set to marry a lesser fae so claiming he'd have a problem with the Illyrians for being lesser fae is flat out wrong. He thought Jesminda was his mate which is his "equal in every way".

I'm not saying there aren't race issues throughout the series, of course there are. Did Feyre not kill a wolf that she thought might be fae at the start simply because she was convinced of the stories she had been told about them? That's why she was able to break the curse, "a human who killed a fae with hate in her heart."

Weren't we told of a war that had one side with fae protecting the humans and the other believing the humans should be their slaves?

But honestly, SJM seems to have written Rhys, Cassian, and Az as having more hatred towards the Illyrians than anyone else ever has because of the misogyny that exists there.

No, I don't think Eris, Nesta, Amren, Rhys, or Az (all characters who used this term) calling Cassian or the Illyrians "brutes" should be applauded but I definitely think out of all the characters who have made remarks towards the Illyrians, Az is probably the one with the most major issues.

Complaining about Racism against Illyrians in this series but praising the Vanserras when they say blatantly degrading shit about Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel because of their race is so…?

“I love when Eris, Beron, and Lucien call them brutes” So you love when moc are degraded and seen as inferior to white men because of their race? Because that’s exactly why they’re called brutes. Mind you these are the people who dedicate their entire accounts to calling out the secret nuances (racism, classism, and misogyny) of Acotar. But I guess to these people being racist and misogynistic is fine as long as you’re white, male, and a redhead.