#maybe they just listened to their parents

[istra-ish-sucha-geek]

Sometimes we listen not because the subject is interesting, but because of love.

2020 lockdown my nephew came over everyday because no school. His parents had just divorced, and his mom moved a state away.

For 3-4 HOURS every day I listened to an excited ten year old garble through explaining Fortnite. Character descriptions, button combinations for moves, skins, YouTube creators specializing in Fortnight with moment by moment descriptions.

For the entire YEAR.

Zero of it was interesting to me. I have ADHD and the SELF CONTROL it took to sit through these hours of conversation were AGONIZING. There were times I was staring awake by chanting in my head “He needs this. He needs this. You love him so much. This is love right now. Keep loving him! KEEP GOING!!!”

There had to be a FEW times where my “Yeah? Wow! Okay, wait, I don’t understand.” Sounded bored.

BECAUSE I WAS SO BORED

But not too often, because he kept coming back (“the very next day”).

And here’s the thing:

If as a kid you experience a caregiver or grownup respond to your excitement, enthusiasm, and probably garbled explanations with visible boredom, disinterest, etc. that is going to effect you. That’s going to feel like disconnection. If it happens often enough, your nervous system is going to write that in as programming. So you’re going to be HYPERVIGILENT about things that remind you of those times.

That feeling rising up when someone says “Yeah” is a nervous system response to the threat of disconnection, which, btw, is coded as a SURVIVAL THREAT.

But that could be not what is going on in the NOW at all.

So ask. Show your hurt. Seek connection. “That didn’t feel good. I’m worried you stopped listening.”

Yeah some peeps are going to be jerks. Other peeps might just have gotten distracted. Or really be wildly disinterested PERSONALLY, but still working hard to listen because they love YOU (my husband loves maps. B O R I N G to me). Or maybe they’re just tired. Or maybe they WERE interested and your nervous system with kid code was mistaken.

"neurotypicals have this special way of saying 'okay' that makes you feel like shit after infodumping your special interest" anyone can do that actually

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 4

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy, seizures and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

"I still can’t believe that you aren’t freaking out!?"

Lizzie didn't even bother to open her eyes at that question.

She was laying sprawled out on the massive garden swing her father had built nearly two decades ago, with Mara curled up on her stomach like a massive judgemental heating pad. It helped some against the muscle aches that her latest seizure had left her with, and not really at all with the the feeling of tiredness and like she had been hit by a bus. 

Which was the reason why she was laying around on the garden swing and not actually help her father and Tasha’s mother with their…weekly gardening. 

Tasha poked her and Lizzie just sighed. 

 Tasha was completely and utterly unapologetic about interrogating her and Lizzie wasn't in the mood to actually answer her best friend slash pseudo sister slash whatever the heck you called the daughter of your godmother when your father was also her godfather.

Their little family it was, even when it wasn't the most normal one. Lizzie's father and Aunt Lou had grown up down the street together...had gone to school together, later on to university...and had been best friends all throughout that. They had each gone on to get married, and had Lizzie and Natasha weeks apart. Tasha's father had been died when she had been 2...and Lizzie's parents marriage had spectacularly imploded by the time she was 6 and after that...well. It had always been just the four of them.

"Because I'm not freaking out," Lizzie finally said with a deep sigh. She was trying to take another nap, but Tasha's incessant questions weren't exactly helping.

"You should be freaking out," Tasha said, completely disregarding Lizzie's need for peace. "Lando Norris, formula one driver, is reading your book!“

"And he's probably just reading it as a curiosity," Lizzie said, trying to rationalize things. She didn’t think that lando was actually going to finish the book. Romantasy was not the kind of things that a guy like Lando Norris would read for fun…and maybe that would make their eventual break up easier.

Even when there was a part of Lizzie that was melting about the fact that he had wanted to get Mara a gift for her birthday.

Still.

She drew her fingernails through Mara’s short chocolate brown fur. 

Tasha, however, wasn't having any of it. She gave Lizzie an unimpressed look. "Did you miss the part where Oscar Piastri is also reading it, because his girlfriend loves your series?"

Lizzie opened her mouth to respond but Tasha wasn't done yet. "We are talking about two formula 1 racers, who probably have tons of friends and maybe even more formula 1 drivers who are reading you book! They might even recommend it to the rest of the grid! And you don’t care! Who are you and what have you done to my Lizzie?!"

Lizzie couldn’t help but laugh at that, opening her eyes to look at Tasha energetically gesturing, blonde hair flying around as she twisted to look at Lizzie. 

"Maybe I am freaking out a little bit," Lizzie admitted drily. ���I just don’t have the energy to get all animated right now.”

Tasha harrumphed. “This is like the most interesting your life has been in years!“ Tasha said brightly. “First cafe guy, now F1 drivers that read your books! How is cafe guy by the way?”

"Fine," Lizzie said vaguely.

Tasha noticed and raised an eyebrow. "Just fine?" Lizzie could see the beginnings of a smirk in Tasha's eyes, and she already knew where this was going.

“He’s traveling for work,” she answered truthfully. It wasn’t a lie…and she wasn’t ready yet to admit to exactly who she was dating. She was pretty sure that Tasha was going to have a heart attack if Lizzie came around the corner with “Oh, you know the guy I am seeing? It’s Lando Norris.”.

“He saw me posting for Mara’s birthday and is now insisting that he’ll get her a gift,” Lizzie said softly. 

Tasha's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, seriously? He's buying a gift for your dog’s birthday? That’s the cutest fucking thing I have ever heard."

Lizzie nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, can you believe it? It's kind of sweet, actually."

"It's definitely sweet. So sweet that I am gonna throw up," Tasha agreed, a knowing glint in her eye. "And it definitely doesn't sound like just a fling to me."

Lizzie pressed her lips together at that.

“Uh oh,” Tasha said drily. “What’s going on in that head of yours Lizzie Lou?”

Lizzie sighed. “It’s not like it matters.”

“Why wouldn’t it matter?”

Lizzie hesitated again, scratching Mara’s ears as a distraction. “It’s just… my mum left when she couldn’t handle my epilepsy. If she couldn’t stick around, how can I expect anyone else to?”

Tasha’s whole face scrunched up in immediate protest. “First of all, fuck her. Second of all, that’s not on you.”

Lizzie shrugged. “Maybe it’s not fair to put that on someone else, though. What if I love someone, and then they realize it’s too much?”

Tasha poked her in the forehead. “Then they don’t deserve you.”

Lizzie let out a humorless laugh. “You say that like it’s that simple.”

“It is that simple.” Tasha flopped onto the swing beside her, throwing her legs over Lizzie’s lap. “Look, I stick around. Mara sticks around. Your dad sticks around. My mum sticks around. We don’t do that because it’s easy. We do it because we love you.”

Lizzie slumped against the swing cushions. "I know, I know. You all love me. But that's different."

Tasha rolled her eyes, reaching down to whack Lizzie on the head. "Don't be an idiot. It's not different. Not one bit. We love you, and that's why we stick around."

"But it's just you guys," Lizzie argued, her voice muffled against the pillow, she buried her head into."Family is different. This is like, romantically sticking around."

Tasha scoffed. "Oh, so family love is stronger than romantic love? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

Lizzie lifted her head to give Tasha a look. “No, you idiot. It’s just...it’s different, alright? Family is supposed to stick around. It’s like...a given. Romantic love...is supposed to be fun, and easy, and not have all these...issues.”

Tasha rolled her eyes. "Oh, right. Because the perfect relationship is one where nothing ever goes wrong and everything is sunshine and roses. That sounds like a load of horseshit to me.”

Lizzie groaned, burying her face into the pillow again. "You know what I mean. Obviously, relationships aren't always going to be easy. But...epilepsy isn't just a minor issue. It's a pretty big deal. A lot to handle."

Tasha ran her fingers through Lizzie’s hair, her touch surprisingly soothing. “Look, I’m not going to pretend like epilepsy doesn’t complicate things. Of course it does. But you’re acting like you’re some kind of burden, like you’re less deserving of love than anyone else. That’s bullshit, Lizzie. And you know it.”

“It’s just a shitty deal for anybody to take,” Lizzie mumbled. “He could have any other girl, any other girl that doesn’t get seizures, that doesn’t need a service dog.”

Tasha smacked her upside the head again, harder this time. “Shut up. God, you’re so bloody stupid sometimes.”

Lizzie winced, rubbing the spot where Tasha had hit her. "Ouch, that hurt."

Tasha snorted. "Good. Maybe it’ll knock some sense into you."

Lizzie huffed, shoving Tasha’s legs off of her lap in retaliation. “I’m just being realistic here.”

“No, you’re being pessimistic,” Tasha retorted. “You’re basically assuming that this guy is going to run away as soon as things get difficult.”

“Well, what if he does?” Lizzie asked, her voice small. “What if he realizes that I’m not worth it?”

Tasha rolled her eyes. “Then he’s a total idiot, and he doesn’t deserve you anyway. And there is a million other good guys out there who would happily take his place.”

“I don’t want a million other guys,” Lizzie grumbled, feeling like a petulant child. “I want that one, I think.”

Tasha gave her a sympathetic look. “I know you do. But you’re sabotaging yourself before you’ve even given him a chance. Give him credit, yeah? Maybe he’s not as shallow as you think.”

Lizzie sighed, knowing that Tasha was right, but still feeling scared. "But what if he doesn't get it? What if he can't handle it when I have a seizure?"

Tasha shrugged. "That's a risk you take with any relationship, epilepsy or not. But you won't know until you give it a chance."

Lizzie opened her mouth to protest but Tasha cut her off. "Shut up. Don't give me any more of your stupid reasons. You just need to let it happen, alright?"

Lizzie rolled her eyes, but deep down she knew Tasha was right. "Alright, fine. I’ll try. But if it all goes to crap, I’m blaming you."

Tasha grinned. "Oh, I’ll gladly take the blame if that’s how it goes. But I think it’ll be fine. This guy already sounds way nicer than any of the guys you’ve dated in the past."

Aunt Lou’s laughter rang through the garden and Lizzie turned to watch her father and aunt laugh about something or other. They looked younger like that. Carefree. Unburdened.

“You think they’ll ever figure it out?” She asked Tasha with a sigh.

“Nah. They’ll be living in denial in 40 years when we visit them in their old people’s home,” Tasha said drily. “You know. Still having biweekly scrabble nights and making each other playlists filled with love songs…and sharing a vegetable garden.” 

“Girls! What are we thinking for dinner?!” Her father called loudly as he helped aunt lou to her feet.

Tasha shot Lizzie a small grin, her eyes glittering with amusement. "Think we can con them into ordering takeaway?"

Lizzie snickered, the tension in her shoulders relaxing at the familiar banter. “Worth a try. You do the talking.”

“Always do,” Tasha said with a mock salute. She hopped off the swing, grabbing Lizzie’s hand and tugging her up as well. “Come on. Let’s go get some pepperoni pizza.”

[murmiss]

A sketch about Price's neglected daughter!y/n, and the kidnapper! Konig.

The living room was flooded with soft light. There were three people sitting on the sofas covered with burgundy plaids. Price was the first to take the most comfortable seat, sitting in his masterly manner. Next to him sat his faithful friend and comrade, Joshua, and the third person sat on a separate small sofa, wrapped in a plaid blanket-it was Megan, Price's oldest daughter. On the terry mat in front of them sat a girl of about five, the youngest daughter, who was playing concentratedly with a doll. She didn't seem to hear or react to anyone else

The girl, sitting in a separate seat, answered Joshua's questions with the same pride: "Yes, when I grow up I'll be a doctor, a surgeon! Or a-- A lawyer!"

Her father's soft laughter reached the children's ears, and the youngest daughter raised her head as well. Unconsciously, she smiled hearing her father's laughter. Joshua smiled as well, carelessly leaving his arm on the back of the couch and looking in front of him, directly at the youngest. He grimaced.

"What do the investigators say? "Mr. Brix caught up with his companion in one of the corridors of the police station. Price was pale, his hair was dirty and greasy, and there were dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. John's eyes were cloudy and he was clearly out of it. Not immediately reacting, Price mumbled something inaudible. Joshua stopped and tugged on his friend's shoulder to stop him. Josh's words sounded like warm encouragement, and his voice was confident: "We'll find her, buddy." Price only nodded in response.

But time only goes by. A day goes by, two days, a week, a month...Almost half a year your sister, Megan Price goes missing. Then the world turns upside down, or maybe-- And nothing's changed? You honestly don't know.

The days are monotonous and empty and the future is clouded with hopelessness. "Who am I?" is the question that keeps popping into your head for hours on end. "Who am I?" a person. "What am I for?" To live. "Who needs me?" I don't know.

It's like a dark abyss, a dragging slime or quicksand that slowly but surely drags you down. You don't feel anything, and you don't know if you've ever felt anything.

Where's mom? Where's your sister?

Nothing again. No information, no word or picture from your father, and only childish resentment.

Kindergarten. Parents pick up their children, hurriedly put on their shoes, and adjust their clothes before leaving. It's evening, but the father is still gone. Anxiously you look out the window, wishing you could see a native silhouette, but nothing but an old crow pecking at the garbage near the tank.

Lonely. Like always.

John forgot to pick you up, or more accurately, he was just with Maggie at her school's Young Poets performance. Omit that the performance ended early, and Price was just taking his daughter and her friends to a coffee shop to celebrate.

It's getting dark, and, the tutor calls Price, who arrives almost immediately. At first, he's embarrassed: gosh, he forgot about his kid! But then he seems to Forget Again, listening with fatherly warmth to Megan's newly composed poems. Sitting in the kitchen, with everyone else, you feel like you're in a family circle, with your own people, not noticing that the eyes are never on you. You babble happily, distracting your sister, "And me! Me too. ". But before you can finish, John says with a smile, "Good for you." You giggle happily in response.

But he didn't hear you.

As you get older, you notice an unfair difference: for some reason, Megan has always been treated a little more reverently. Why was that? The answer is the same. You don't know.

"Do you want a strawberry ice cream?" a gruff, wheezing voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You look up and see Konig standing in front of you, immediately regaining your senses.

"Yes"-you answer briefly, and seemed to fall back into your thoughts, remembering Megan.

"She's fine," Konig brings you to your senses again. He smiles like a serpent, and there is no mask on his face. His face, covered in battle scars is open for all to see, but he doesn't care.

You nod.

Konig was an acquaintance, a friend of Price's, an old-school man with a strong temper and oddities, you thought. A handsome face with strong features, but covered with scars.

When Megan disappeared, Price became completely estranged from you. Desperate, he left the service six months after she went missing, couldn't take it anymore. He was like a robot, perpetually pale and embittered, almost never speaking to you. You often feel the emptiness, wondering involuntarily: what if this is him? When once again your father walks by with glazed eyes, you call out to him, "Father?"

There is no answer.

After about a year, he almost comes around, maybe talks to you more than a couple times a week or, on rare occasions, a day. And then... He just... Notices you?

Returning after school, Price greets you with the table set. He smiles, genuinely talking to you, discussing his day. Everything seems so nice. You eat an entire plate, not immediately noticing the catch. And even noticing it not that day, but towards the end of the week, when your father happily informs you that he has enrolled you in the poets' circle.

Why poets? Oh, yeah. Megan.

He's trying to recreate Megan in you, ignoring the fact that you're a human being too. With your own opinions, desires, morals and dreams. You didn't want to go to medical school just because when Megan wanted you to, you didn't want to go to dances and poetry clubs and perform on stages like she did.

You just want to be yourself.

Megan's gonna come back like thunder in the middle of the day. Just-- Coming home after a damn 1.5 years with no explanation. She smiles adorably as her father kneels like a slug, hugging her as tightly as if she might run away. He sobs, stroking her hands gently. Not that you like being a substitute, but... The slightest bit of attention attracted.

Things get worse, and Price is like a man possessed. He drives Megan every day to the university you're already attending together because John wanted you to follow in your big sister's footsteps. Now he really forgets. He just doesn't see, even worse than when Megan disappeared. In Price's eyes, it's just the image of his oldest daughter, his pride, that's all.

"must it really be lonely?"-The voice rumbles again. You look up. You see Konig again. He's wearing a medical mask. Is he afraid of the coronavirus?

"What?" you ask after a couple seconds.

"Get in the car, I'll give you a ride home." He nods nonchalantly at a maroon car. Definitely not his, but maybe a new purchase? Or not his? Oh, but you don't care, you just hop in his car, not wanting to wait for your dad or the bus. Either way, Price doesn't care when or who you're with.

Which becomes his mistake.

"Where are we going?" you mutter as the car starts to shake over bumps and the woods thicken.

"to your new and loving home, princess."

Konig's plan was perfect from start to finish, until a damn girl got in his way: Megan got caught at the worst possible moment, completely ruining all his blunders.

Then he kidnapped her, finding no other way out of this shitty situation, and locked her in his cozy basement, which was carefully built under his house, enlarged and arranged for you. All to make his Liebe Maus, you,feel herself cozy.

Megan wasn't you, she was noisy, annoying, and that's when Konig changed his plan, day in and day out setting Megan up the way he needed her to be, and when he did, he let Megan go, determined to never, ever expose him. That day she had purposely distracted Price by calling him to a newly opened café so that Price would forget to pick up his second daughter, giving Konig every opportunity.Megan acted to Konig's advantage, and if necessary, she would help confuse everyone so that his sun would never be found.

(Just a random sketch from the notes, possible errors, quick description. at the end of the text, the main character is an adult.)

[fawnhart]

sugar and rafes first time meeting ! ㅤ⭑๋ ࣭

You remember the moment your whole life started to crumble. It was a Tuesday, you think. Maybe a Wednesday? Doesn’t really matter. The days just blur together when you’re stuck in a house where you’re not allowed to live

You were listening to Jeff Buckley. You had it on repeat for weeks now, hiding it under a loose plank in the floorboards of your room. Your parents would never allow it. Not in a million years. Especially your mom. She’d explode if she ever found out. Everything was so god damn evil to her

But that day you thought you had time. She was supposed to be gone for at least another hour. It was Wednesday. Church group meetings. It was always a Wednesday.

You slipped the CD into your player old and busted up, the kind with the cassette tape thing but with a CD attachment, so it wasn’t completely outdated. You sat on your bed, staring out at the little slice of sky visible through your window, not really thinking about anything in particular just thinking. Then you heard the door downstairs.

“What the hell is that noise?”

You froze. Your heart dropped into your stomach. You thought your mom wouldn’t be home yet. You’d been so sure. You asked Mrs. Maggie to 1000% sure. But she was early. You scrambled to hit stop, but the music kept playing. Her voice, firm and pissed, was coming closer.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Your pulse raced. You shoved the player under your pillow just as she stormed into the room, her eyes narrowing. She was already clutching that look the one that meant something bad was about to happen.

“What did I tell you about this?” Her voice was tight and screechy.

“I wasn’t doing nothin’” you said, your voice shaky. You didn’t even believe yourself. You knew exactly why she was upset. But you had to try. You had to try to be normal for once, even if it was just for a few minutes in your own room.

“Nothing?” Her lip curled, disgust in every word. “Baby, you think you can just fill ya’ head with that filth and call it ‘nothin’?’”

You bit your lip, holding back tears. She stepped forward, pointing at the CD player under your pillow.

“This is demonic! I knew it. You’ve been listening to the devil behind my back. It’s not enough that you’re dressing like... like one of those whores at school. But now you want to be dirty on the inside, too?”

Your throat felt tight, like you couldn’t breathe. Your mind was racing. What were you supposed to say?

“You’re going to ruin everything I’ve worked for. Everything your father and I have taught you,” she hissed, her eyes wild with something you didn’t recognize. It wasn’t love, not even close.

“it’s just music,” you whispered, too quietly, but she heard you.

She grabbed the player from your bed and yanked the CD out.

“It’s. not. just. music,” she said, her voice cracking. “It’s a gateway. It’s corruption to the brain.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to tell her that all you wanted was to be normal, to have what everyone else had. a life outside of this house, outside of her rules. But the words never came.

She was moving now, pulling open drawers, emptying them onto the floor.

“all that filth you’ve been hiding from me and I’ve been lenient on is done for. I’m taking it all.”

She tossed your music cds, your makeup, your books. Everything you’d spent months gathering, everything you’d used to try to feel like you were an ordinary girl, was being thrown away.

And then, the worst part.

“Your father won’t stand for this. We’ll have you cleansed”

You faltered. Cleansed? It was such a cold, clinical word. But you knew what it meant. The prayers. The rituals. You couldn’t let that happen. You couldn’t live through that.

Your eyes were filling with tears, your chest tightening.

“I’m sorry!, I didn’t mean to. I won’t listen to that again, okay? I swear,” you pleaded, though you knew it didn’t matter.

But it was too late, she was already at the door

“You know honey, my church group has been just how ungodly you’ve been acting, but I didn’t believe them….. I hate that you proved them right”

locking it behind her with that final click that meant you were trapped.

You pressed your back against the door, the tears finally spilling over. You couldn’t think straight. Your whole body was shaking, your mind was screaming. I need to get out of here.

You knew what you had to do.

You waited for what felt like hours, listening to the muffled sounds of your mom in the kitchen. The smell of dinner wafted under the door, and all you could think about was how your entire life had been planned for you. You were supposed to be a good girl. A good Christian girl. But you weren’t. And you were never going to be.

Finally, when you thought your heart couldn’t take any more, you got up. You grabbed the little bag you’d hidden in the closet. Nothing but a few clothes, and the money you’d saved up from waitressing at ‘sticky’s’. Quietly, carefully, you pulled out the plank in the floor, grabbed the rest of your hidden things, and shoved them into your bag. You didn’t think twice.

You climbed out the window, holding your breath, praying that she wouldn’t hear you.

Once you were outside, you took off running.

You didn’t know where you were going, but it didn’t matter. You had to get out.

You ran for what felt like forever. The night was cold, but you didn’t care. It was better than being to the place you once called home.

You didn’t notice him at first.

You glanced around realizing you were for sure not on the cut anymore, the big tall houses made it clear to you were on figure eight now.

then you saw him

Rafe Cameron.

You’d seen him around, of course. He was one of the rich kids, always walking around with that stupid confident smile, like he owned the whole island. You’d never paid him any attention. You had enough of your own problems to deal with. But when you saw him standing at the end of the street, leaning against his car smoking god knows what, you froze.

You’ve heard the stories about Rafe Cameron. He’s the kind of guy everyone talks about but no one truly understands.

He’s always been a mystery, and he still is. But there’s something about him, something that draws you in, even though you know you probably shouldn’t get too close.

You never really expected to see him again, not after the way he disappeared seven years ago.

Rafe left figure eight right after that night, the night he ended up in jail. No one knows exactly what happened, but everyone has their theories.

Some say it was a huge mistake, some say it was just a matter of time, others say ward himself drove his only son out of town. But whatever it was, it was enough to make him walk away from everything. His family, his life there, his whole world.

He packed up and drove five hours away, living on his own, far from the memories and the mess the pouges he hated had caused.

In the time since, he’s built himself up. People talk about how he’s thriving now, working as a firefighter or something like that. Hard work, steady pay, and no one really bothers him anymore.

It’s like he’s trying to rebuild his life, piece by piece. But even though he’s been gone for so long, when he talks about his baby sister wheezie, there’s this soft, almost protective vibe about him

Now, he’s back in town, just for her birthday. It’s strange seeing him like this, but there’s something different about him. He’s older, quieter, and maybe even a little lost in his own way.

He was looking straight at you, his brow furrowed, like he knew something was wrong.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice muffled by his blunt but clear in the quiet night air.

You stopped in your tracks.

“Are you alright?” he asked, taking a step toward you.

You didn’t know what to say. Of course you weren’t alright!. You were running away from your own life, from your own mother. But you didn’t know how to tell him that.

“I... I’m fine,” you said, but even to your own ears, it sounded like a lie.

He took another step forward, still studying you with those eyes that seemed too kind for someone like him.

“I’m serious,” he said, his voice softer now. “You look rough.”

Your breath hitched. ‘Gee thanks’ Yeah, you looked rough. You had been rough for years. But hearing it from someone else...it hit different.

“Do you need a ride?” he asked.

You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know him. But you also didn’t know anyone who would help you, not like this. So you warily followed him

You stared at him, confused, trying to figure out if he was serious or playing some sick joke on you.

Then it hit you. He was talking to you like you weren’t just the religious girl with the crazy parents. He wasn’t weirded. He wasn’t judging you.

The last time someone came up to you, the whole town heard about it. Your parents tried getting them expelled from school for harassing you.

That was the last time anyone ever talked to you

“I know you know Wheezie,” he said, a little chuckle in his voice as he opened the door. “you can’t be all bad, right?”

Wheezie? then it clicked, the girl with glasses who could down 6 cherry milkshakes in a row, nice.

“Come on,” he said, the smile slipping from his face for a second, a real one this time. “Let me help you.”

You didn’t know if you were ready for help, but you were so damn tired. Tired of pretending everything was okay. Tired of running. Tired of fighting your own heart every damn day.

You took a deep breath and took up his offer.

He didn’t even look like the guy everyone made him out to be. Sure, he still had that wild, unpredictable look to him, but he wasn’t hostile. He just… asked if you needed help. Simple as that.

You didn’t know what else to say. You didn’t know where else to go.

He didn’t press you with questions. He just turned on the engine, his eyes flicking over you like he was checking to see if you were really serious about getting in.

"You're Wheezie's friend, right?" he asked as you climbed in.

You nodded, glancing at him, trying to gauge whether or not you were making a huge mistake. "Yeah... kind of, she’s always at the diner" you added, almost too quietly. You didn't want to give him the wrong impression, what 18 year old is freinds with a 13 year old?

He smiled just a little, but it was different from the smirks you’d seen on his face at school or around town. “That sounds like her” It wasn’t mean. It was soft

You can’t help but wonder what really happened in those seven years, what it was that changed him, but for now, you’re stuck here in the passenger seat of his truck, staring at his side profile as he drives.

Something about being around him feels oddly comforting, even though you know there’s so much you’ll never understand.

The ride was awkward, the kind of silence that felt thick enough to choke on. Rafe had the radio low, some song you didn’t recognize playing in the background.

You focused on the streetlights flashing by, the pavement blurring, but all you could think about was the tight knot of anxiety in your chest. You didn't belong in this car, in this moment. You should have been running in the other direction, but... for some reason, you weren’t scared. Not yet.

You had no idea where the hell you were going. That’s when he asked.

“So, do you have anywhere to go?”

You looked at your lap, clutching the bag tighter. You couldn’t tell him the truth, not completely. Not yet. "yeah" you said, your voice barely above a raspy whisper.

He didn’t say anything at first. But then you heard him exhale, like he was thinking it over. “Look, I don’t know what the fuck you’ve been through but….but you’re safe now,” he said, and his voice was surprisingly gentle, like he’d somehow sensed how scared you really were. “Ok?”

“Ok” You swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears. He wasn’t wrong. You were scared, terrified even, but for the first time in forever, someone wasn’t judging you for it.

No one in your family ever told you you were safe, ever told you that everything would be okay. You sniffled, the tears threatening to spill over.

You didn't want to break down in front of him.

The car slowed to a stop, and you realized you were at a diner, the neon lights buzzing softly. Rafe looked over at you, almost like he was waiting for you to protest or make some excuse. You didn’t. You just followed him out of the car, not saying a word.

Inside, the place smelled like burgers, fries, and cigarettes. The warmth was a stark contrast to the cold night outside, and it made you feel a little safer, like you were stepping into something straight out of a movie. Rafe led you to a booth and slid into the seat across from you. For a second, you both just stared at the menu, neither of you speaking. You didn’t know if you were supposed to order, or if he would. But then he broke the silence.

"What do you want?" He didn’t sound like he was expecting an answer right away. Like he was just making sure you were okay.

You looked at the menu, but your mind was elsewhere. You didn’t care what you ate. You just... didn’t want him to feel like he had to do this.

Like he had to take care of you.

“Just fries and a water,” you said, you didn't even know why you said it. It wasn’t like you had much of an appetite.

He raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t comment on it. He called the waitress over and ordered for both of you. A burger, fries, and a milkshake. When she left, he turned to you, his gaze softer than you thought he’d ever let it be.

"How are you holding up?" His voice was quieter now, the edge gone. He wasn’t the Rafe Cameron you’d heard about, the one everyone warned you to stay away from. He seemed... almost normal, it was freaking you out.

You shrugged, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "I don't know," you muttered. "Just tired, I guess."

He nodded, leaning back in his seat, but you caught him glancing at you every few seconds like he was still trying to figure you out.

“What are you running from” he said bluntly, his stare showing no signs playfulness, just a full serious look

you looked away, your tears sticking with your mascara and glitter eyeshadow “Home”

“Been there” he nodded taking in your appearance in, how could such a pretty girl like you be so alone and lost?

The food came quickly, and Rafe pushed the plate with the burger and fries toward you. "Eat," he said simply. “I’m not going to let you go hungry.”

You picked at the fries, not feeling hungry but not wanting to make him feel like you didn’t appreciate it. The milkshake was so cold and thick, and when you took a sip, you felt a small sense of comfort settle in. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

As you ate, Rafe kept glancing at you, almost like he was waiting for you to crack. When you sniffled again, wiping your nose with the back of your sleeve, he frowned. "I already told you, you don’t have to be scared," he said, his voice dropping a little. “You’re safe here. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

It was a strange thing for him to say, considering who he was. But in that moment, you believed him. You really did.

When you finished the milkshake and most of the burger, you felt a little more alive again, but the weight of everything of your family, of the lies, of everything that had pushed you to this point, was still there.

And you still had nowhere to go.

you just had a sparkly sack and a dream.

Rafe didn’t say much after that, just leaned back in his seat, and let you gather your thoughts. But when the waitress came by to take your plates, you stood up, and swung the creaky glass door open feeling that familiar unease creep back in.

"I’ll just go to the docks, the ferry leaves at 6am," you said, Turing around to see rafe as he followed right behind. You were going to take the ferry to the mainland, with the little money you had left. You weren’t sure where you were going from there, but it was something.

Rafe’s expression turned serious, almost annoyed. “No,” he said flatly.

“what?”

“I’m not letting you go to the docks. It’s dangerous, and I doubt you even have enough money to get anywh-.”

“You can’t fix everything!” you snapped, feeling all the frustration you’d been holding back suddenly spill out. "You can’t. fix. everything"

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Maybe I can’t fix everything,” he said, his voice firm. “But I can try to make sure you’re okay. I can’t just let you go off like that.”

You glared at him. “You don’t even know me. Why do you care?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. He just looked at you like he was weighing something in his mind. Then he exhaled, running a hand through his buzzed head. “I know enough.”

You stared at him, unsure what to say. Your whole world was falling apart, and yet, here was this guy, this person you should’ve never trusted, according to everyone you knew

but then again why does it matter what everyone says? if you’re going by that logic then you would be at the bottom of the barrel.

“You want to runaway right?” he said, voice steady. “I have a place, it’s 5 hours away, that far enough for you?”

“Do you even know how old I am!? Hello, I could turn you in right now for being a weirdo” you asked with sass, anything to get him off of your case

“ ‘sticky’s’ won’t hire under 18.” He said nonchalantly rolling his eyes, “unless you lied or where getting paid under the table? Then I could turn you and your employer in”

You didn’t know if it was the exhaustion in his voice, but something in you cracked. “i didn’t lie, I’m 18” you said your voice trembling slightly. “I’ll go with you. But no funny business, I will jump out of the freaking car” you said crossing your arms

“Whatever you say, sugar”

Was this a good idea? Probably not. You’re parents would ironically raise hell over this town once they found out their precious daughter had run off with Rafe fucking Cameron

© 𝐅𝐀𝐖𝐍𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

[bithcisweartogod]

it’s not that cheng xiaoshi doesn’t trust lu guang. he does, probably more than anyone. him and qiao ling are the closest people he has. hell, he willingly trusts lu guang with his life on a daily, blindly allowing the guy to lead him in every dive, never once doubting that with lu guang in charge everything will be fine. 

yet sometimes he can’t help but wish he would tell him more. not that cheng xiaoshi feels like he’s hiding something. he just wants to know more about lu guang. cheng xiaoshi himself has never been a particularly secretive person. he likes to share bits and pieces of himself with others, but only those that hover on the surface, not allowing too deep of a look into his mind. sure, he also doesn’t tell people everything. why would he? but lu guang barely shares anything at all.

those little crumbles of him that cheng xiaoshi managed to gather over the years either came as a result of pure observation or accidents. sometimes, if cheng xiaoshi asked, lu guang would tell him about the books he reads, or show him movies he likes, share songs he listens to. but that’s about it. cheng xiaoshi’s grateful for what he can get, but is it so wrong to want to know more about your partner? 

and yeah, maybe lu guang’s lack of desire to share stuff about himself comes from the fact that cheng xiaoshi can and will tease him about it but come on. that’s what friends are for! something, he has to share something! like, childhood memories, for instance. it doesn’t even have to be something deep or anything, cheng xiaoshi doesn’t expect lu guang to get into the heavy stuff like he’s in a therapy session. something light and funny though, maybe a little silly, that should be fine, right? everyone has these kind of stories! yet whenever cheng xiaoshi and qiao ling dive into this topic lu guang just observes them quietly, all small smiles and stifled laughter. 

qiao ling brought an old photo album one day. she found it during a major cleaning up session at her parents’ house. despite being her family’s photo album, it had lots of pictures of cheng xiaoshi, so she knew she had to bring it to the photo studio.

and there they were, the three of them seated on the sofa, looking through the photos. the pictures were really wholesome. little qiao ling holding little cheng xiaoshi’s hand at an amusement park, both of them smiling widely. she cooed at the image, and then, in the same sweet voice as before, she said: “remember how you threw up after that one ride that we told you not to take?”, leaving cheng xiaoshi frozen and lu guang laughing up his sleeve.

so that’s how it went. whenever cheng xiaoshi appeared in a photo qiao ling would add some details about its backstory, making embarrassing ones even more so. like, here’s a picture of cheng xiaoshi with mustache drawn on his face in black marker. he’s showing off, posing like a character from a movie.

“a few seconds after that he showed us the marker he draw those with and mom told him it’s permanent” qiao ling deadpans.

“and i took it very well” boasts cheng xiaoshi, crossing his arms over his chest.

“you cried like a baby” 

“did not” 

“i think you did”, intervenes lu guang, who had already turned the page, discovering a follow-up photo, that, although smudgy, showed a wailing cheng xiaoshi. so no, he did not, in fact, take it well. cheng xiaoshi’s ears turned red.

“you took a picture? i was standing there crying and you just took a picture?” he exclaims.

“sorry, sorry” says qiao ling, laughing. “it was too funny”.

cheng xiaoshi, of course, saw that as a challenge. he flipped through the pages of the photo album and then stopped, smiling in that manner of his that meant he’s up to no good. 

“look who we have here” he said melodically.

qiao ling scoffed. 

“it can’t be that bad, let me see— oh god”.

the picture showed little qiao ling, up close, definitely an attempt of hers to take a selfie on her parents’ camera. but the angle wasn’t the worst part. the makeup. what was going on. bright splotches of blue eyeshadow covered her eyes, her eyebrows looked like she got inspired by cheng xiaoshi’s mustache and drew them with a sharpie, her lips were over-lined with pink lipstick, and, as a cherry on top, glitter. it was everywhere. but little qiao ling seemed proud of herself, while the current one looked like she was holding back tears. she’ll definitely ask who and why decided that it would be a good idea to put this picture in the album when she comes home. 

meanwhile, cheng xiaoshi was laughing uncontrollably, less from looking at the photo and more from seeing qiao ling’s reaction. lu guang was covering his mouth, trying to hide a smile. 

“don’t worry, qiao ling-jie, your skills definitely improved” he tried to placate her. 

“i sure hope they did!” screamed distressed qiao ling, looking as flabbergasted as she was before.

she turned the page to try and change the subject. suddenly, a blurred something caught cheng xiaoshi’s attention. 

“what’s that?” he asked, pointing at the photo. 

and now it was qiao ling’s turn to laugh. 

“idiot, that’s your butt!” 

cheng xiaoshi looked at her, bewildered, then back at the photo and then the recognition finally sank in. 

“what the hell is it doing in your family’s photo album?” he tried to snatch the album away but qiao ling grabbed it first, quickly passing it to lu guang. with the way his palm covered his mouth it was hard to tell whether he’s laughing or genuinely concerned. 

“why— who even decided to develop it?” cheng xiaoshi looked over lu guang’s shoulder, not trying to hide the photo anymore now that he’s already seen it. instead, he buried his face into the fabric of lu guang’s shirt, mortified. 

“actually, you did” answers qiao ling, smiling from ear to ear. 

“what?!” 

“yeah! you were the one who brought it to us! you thought that the scar you got was super cool, so you decided to take a picture of it, and then asked aunt shao to develop it. and she did”. 

memories were coming back to cheng xiaoshi, the way his mom laughed and immediately agreed to his request. she sure had an interesting sense of humor. he looked at the photo again, more intently this time. 

“but you gotta admit…it does look cool. like a lightning…”

“wanna put it in a frame?” lu guang suggested, earning a loud snicker from qiao ling and a death glare from cheng xiaoshi.

they bickered over the photos, competing in who can make the other more embarrassed, but despite all the noise they made over this album, it felt good to revisit those memories. to look back on their past and laugh. to share it with lu guang. 

later that day, when cheng xiaoshi and lu guang were already in their beds, slowly dozing off, cheng xiaoshi decided to ask something. 

“lu guang? you asleep?” 

after a short period of time a muffled answer comes out 

“no”

a beat. cheng xiaoshi hesitates. 

“it’s just…you never showed us any pictures from when you were a kid. or any pictures of your parents” or any pictures at all. for some reason he felt unsure. like he’s stepping into a territory not yet open for him. “i wouldn’t be too surprised to find out you were born an adult” a quiet laugh. an attempt to lighten up the atmosphere. 

“i can just see you saying ‘thank you for carrying me all those nine months, mother’ and bowing to the doctors” he blabbers, trying to continue the joke, which earns a low stifled laugh from lu guang. 

“you’re ridiculous” he says, and cheng xiaoshi can hear him smiling. warmth spreads in his chest. after remaining silent for some time, lu guang speaks again.

“it’s nothing special, really. my parents just never liked to take photos. i don’t have anything to show, that’s it” 

it made cheng xiaoshi sad, the fact that he’d never get to see lu guang little. was his hair always white? was his attitude always so quiet and stoic? did he ever do any of the embarrassing things he and qiao ling were up to when they were kids? 

“you’re disappointed?” lu guang asks suddenly. damn, he’s uncannily good at reading his mind.

“don’t be silly” comes out cheng xiaoshi’s immediate response. then, turning to the side, he ads, “i have you here now. that’s all that matters”.

and that’s true. whatever past lu guang had, whatever things he’s purposefully hiding away from him…he’s here, with cheng xiaoshi. and, as lu guang himself said, he’s not going anywhere.

next day qiao ling comes into the photo studio again. in her hands there’s…a book? she places it on the counter, smiling happily. a book turns out to be a photo album. a brand new one, all pages empty, waiting to be filled. 

“it just hit me suddenly, after i left yesterday. it’s so stupid. we don’t have a photo album of our own! at the photo studio! absurd”.

and just like that, they started piling up a history of their own, capturing time in the pages of the album. a picture of lu guang on the sofa, fallen asleep in the middle of reading a book. sunlight dances on his skin. he scrunches his nose in his sleep. a picture of qiao ling pulling cheng xiaoshi into a hug. he tries to look annoyed but his smile betrays him. cheng xiaoshi with a braid. it looks a little messed up since his hair’s not long enough, but pretty nonetheless. lu guang patting a stray cat near the photo studio. qiao ling and xu shanshan hitting cheng xiaoshi with pillows. qiao ling smiling brightly as cheng xiaoshi scrubs the floor behind her. he lost a bet and was supposed to clean up for a month. lu guang eventually agreed to help him (he always does) and ended up taking the majority of cheng xiaoshi’s cleaning duties upon himself. lu guang with a pissed off expression, huge coffee spot on his shirt. he accidentally spilled it and cheng xiaoshi had to capture the moment as evidence that lu guang does in fact fuck up sometimes. lu guang smiling. lu guang posing with an awkward peace sign. lots of lu guang, actually. because cheng xiaoshi, unlike lu guang’s parents, likes taking photos. especially photos of lu guang. 

it’s not that cheng xiaoshi doesn’t trust lu guang. he does, probably more than anyone. so he knows that lu guang would tell him more when he’s ready. there’s no rush. he likes it even more like that - getting to know him, gradually, bit by bit. 

[crazydeershark]

Broken souls

Part 1.

Jason Todd x Civilian!Fem reader

Both Jason and reader are 15 to 16 here.

Summary: How you met Jason, your life before his death. Your bond and connection.

Warnings: blood.

A/n: Hi, I’ve never wrote ff before so please ignore any possible mistakes, remember its just fiction and enjoy!

It was a usual school night. You had a ton of homework, laying on your bed, text books spread around you. Your little bed lamp emanating a soft warm glow.

Yes, it was past your “bed time”, as if that mattered. Thankfully, your parents were gone on a date. You weren’t a child anymore. Who cared if you were gonna get that stupid F? You were far too tired to study more.

Until- *bang*. A loud, violent crash echoed trough your window.

Shit shit shit.

Yes, Gotham was a dangerous city, with at least 10 break ins, deaths or crimes being on the news every night. Was it some sort of robber? Killer? Rapist?

Silence. Deadly silence.

You quickly tip toed out of your room, opening your kitchen drawer, grabbing the biggest knife you could find. Phone in hand, already dialling 911. Sweaty hands shaking. You get left alone for one night and this is what happens?!

You were pretty sure you heard your window slide up. No. Maybe it was just a bird or something that crashed against your window. You were not delusional. Right? You were on the 4th flour after all.

Murders can climb.

You were panicking.

Suddenly, you heard a creak. Your door. Opening.

“Stay back! Im calling the police!” You yelled, voice trembling in fear. Was this genuinely it? Were you gonna die? Just like that?

“It’s okay! Im not gonna do you any harm!” You heard a boy-ish voice. He did sound pretty young.

“What do you want?!”

“Will you stop screaming?!”

“You’re screaming too!”

Silence, again. What the heck was going on?

“Okay, I’m going to open the door now. Don’t freak out or whatever.”

You held you knife in front of the door regardless.

Until you saw him. Red suit. Green shorts. The yellow “R” on his chest. Domino mask covering his eyes. Robin!

“Oh my god! Robin?!”

“And you’re back to yelling. Look, I-“

“Sorry.” You quickly apologized. “ I know you! I saw you on the news! You work with Batman!” You didn’t care if you were yelling. You couldnt keep your excitement in.

“You solved that case! With Two-Face! I heard he’s in Arkham Asylum now..”, you wouldn’t stop talking. “…you’re bleeding!” You pointed to his arm and thigh. Severe injures, blood dripping to your floor.

“Yeah, been trying to tell you ‘bout that.”

He explained how some guys were chasing him, his arm and leg got injured so he had to hide somewhere. Something about how he was trying to land on the roof and crashed into your apartment. Accidentally, of course.

After that, you slowly got used to his regular visits. At first, he came to thank you for helping him with his wounds, bringing you chocolates. You found that sweet.

Then he just kept coming, making excuses about how “he was tired,” or “he couldn’t find Batman”. It was hilarious.

You knew the truth, but you didn’t mind his visits after all. He was sweet, caring, and extremely funny. You liked that about him.

He was handsome too. Wavy, brunette locks falling over his forehead. His taller figure towering over you, and a smile he could barely hold in when he was around you.

You admired his skills, even if you found his suit “funny-looking”. (That actually offended him.)

You got close over time. He really liked you. Your smile, your jokes. You were perfect in his eyes. It was more than just a teenage crush to him. No one had ever listened to him or treated him like you did.

He took you up on rooftops, helped you sneak out. You saw how damaged yet beautiful Gotham was at night. Crime-ridden and corrupt, yet stunning.

His visits kept on going for a year and a half. Batman did find out, eventually. But he didn’t get the chance to speak with Robin.

One night, he showed up with flowers. Beautiful pink lilies. You loved them, but there was something else he had to tell you.

“Listen, I like you.” You listened closely, noticing the way his ears turned pink. “Im going on a mission, with Batman.”

“And… I really want to tell you who I am, sorry- I’m not the best at this-“

He was quickly silenced by a peck on the lips. You liked him too. You loved him.

His cheeks turned fully red that time.

You had to stay humble, because you were a tomato yourself.

Jason. His name was Jason. It suited him, you couldn’t explain it, but it did. He couldn’t wait to tell you, it was typical Robin.

He told you the mission would take two weeks, you listened patiently. He was going to come see you, reveal his identity. He promissed.

And you waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Two weeks passed. Slowly, but they passed.

Then three weeks,

A month,

Two months,

Robin was nowhere to be seen, or found. Batman returned with no sight of him.

You were left confused, and most of all broken. Did he return and not tell you? Where was he? Was this all some sort of sick joke?

No. It couldn’t be. He was Robin, your friend, your Robin.

The worst part of it, you had no one to talk to.

No one, at all. Your parents would have thought you wanted attention. Your friends would’ve said you were making it all up.

No one would have ever believed you.

And that hurt. It was the type of hurt you had never experienced, like someone took a sharp blade and sliced your heard in pieces.

You never got over it. You never stopped searching.

Weeks had turned into months. Months had turned into years.

All you could do was..move on, and wonder if any of it was ever real. Or if you were just imagining it.

A/n: alrrr what do y’all think?? I hope this is good enough. Also if you noticed grammar mistakes please point them out! English isn’t my first language!

[hukelughes]

your writing of frat luke made me think about frat quinn (which we don't see a lot i feel like)

can you maybe write something about a situationship with him

You nod along to what he’s saying, an easy smile on your face. You like him, he’s easy to talk to, knows exactly what to say at the right time, and wants to know you. He’s exactly the person who you should want.

“So, I just eat shit down this hill as like ten scouts are looking straight at me, I’ve never been so embarrassed.” He laughs, putting his face in his hands, shoulders shaking as he recalls the moment. 

Your smile slowly fades as you give him a fake laugh, something you’ve perfected these last few dates.

“This guy puts his stick in front of my legs, and I fall down, y’know, like eat complete shit down to the ice as everyone’s watching me. My coaches, the scouts, my parents, my brothers. I swear if anyone ever finds that clip, I’m retiring and moving to the Galapagos to become a fucking biologist.”

You burst out laughing, head falling back as he watches you with a soft look in his eye. “Oh my God, do you even have a biology degree?”

“Nope, I quit college in my second year and was a Sports Management major. I would be fired on my first day, I think.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. The other one was gently holding your waist, with your bodies facing each other and your faces closer than ever. 

“Aw, well it’s a good thing you’re making it big now, huh?” You mumble, looking down at his lips. You’re not being subtle, giving him hints about what you want for about an hour now. “Quinn, can we go back to your place?”

“Yeah? You wanna go back to mine?”

Nodding, you lean forward enough that your breathing lands directly on his lips. “Yeah.”

He breaks the distance, hands now going to cradle each side of your face. Your lips meet for the first time, immediately tasting the beer he’d been drinking. Putting your fingers in his belt loops, you pull him even closer, if that was even possible. Your tongues brush against each other as you both fight to lead. It’s messy, passionate, euphoric, and you don’t know if any other man could kiss you like Quinn Hughes.

“Are you listening? Hello?” He snaps his fingers in front of your face, breaking you out of the memory. 

“Yeah, sorry, your story just reminded me of something someone told me.” You grimaced, looking down to fiddle with your rings. 

“How about we cut this date short and just go right to the good stuff, huh?” 

His words send a cold chill through you, instantly waking you up from whatever trance you were in. “Sorry?”

“What, you don’t want to fuck me, baby?”

“Not really, no. I’m just going to go now, if that’s okay?” Without waiting for his answer, you grab your jacket and your bag. You can hear him calling after you as you walk towards the exit. Once you’re out in the cold Vancouver weather, you finally breathe out a sigh of relief. 

Fumbling with your bag, you take your phone out and open up your contact list. You stop at ‘H’, thumb moving around in circles before you just click on it.

It rings three times before you finally hear his voice.

“Hello?” Quinn asks, his voice voicing his confusion as to why you were calling him during your date. “Y/N?”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times as you try to gather your thoughts, before you close your eyes and let it out. “Can you pick me up?”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re still sharing your location with me right?” 

“Yeah, you should see me right away,” you hear him shuffling around, presumably getting up and grabbing his keys. “He really sucked.” 

“Did he?” Quinn hums, something about his tone tells you that he knew it all along. “Baby, I told you that you’re better off with me.” 

“I know, I know.” You absentmindedly kick a rock into the road. “I just thought our… arrangement wasn’t working anymore. Didn’t wanna get too emotionally involved with you.”

He chuckles under his breath, “yeah, well, it’s already too late for that. Here you are calling me to rescue you from your date.”

“Shut up. I was wrong.” You concede, rolling your eyes in the process. “What’s your ETA?”

“Hm, 5 minutes I think. Should be there soon, traffic isn't bad.” He estimates it's quiet for a second before he speaks again. “Mine or yours?”

“Yours, definitely yours.”

You aren’t talking about who’s place you’re staying at tonight. 

[l0stglitch]

What if there daughter started to drift a lot from them and what would they do to stop it and what pre cautions they would take to make sure it doesn’t happen again?tysmmm

The aftermath

Platonic Yandere lost boys x reader

The first half of this ask is kind of answered in this fic so I’m only gonna write about the second part.

Warnings- Physical and emotional abuse | Obsessive relationships

• They’d be pretty cautious after your depressive episode. Seeing you so fragile and broken made them hyper aware of how delicate your sanity and mental health are.

• They also don’t want to push you away again in the future. Adopting that cat you had found had certainly helped bring you closer to your fathers after the punishment, but you’d never truly be the same again.

• I think they’d become a lot more overbearing, particularly Dwayne and Marko (who have always been the most involved in your life). They’ve seen what isolation will do to you, and are determined for you to never be alone again.

• David would start to lose some of his previous control over how you are parented- particularly when it comes to punishments. The whole event would sort of shift the pack dynamics. David had always been the leader, as he had a much more dominating personality, however being the oldest, Dwayne also had a claim to power.

• Things are easier for you when Dwayne calls the shots. You aren’t punished as harshly over minor mistakes, however you don’t really have a choice in how you spend your free time. If Dwayne wants you to hang out with them, you better listen or Marko will get involved.

• Speaking of Marko, he’d definitely take advantage of his newfound freedom. Without David to keep him in check, he becomes WAY worse than normal.

• He’s already pretty bad with boundaries, but now that he has more power, he literally won’t leave you alone. Like this man will straight up come into your room and lie there next to you when you’re trying to sleep. He claims it’s because he’s worried you’ll become detached again if you’re left by yourself for too long, but really he’s just become extra clingy after your episode of disassociation.

• You can’t complain about it to Dwayne, because he’s got the same attitude as Marko. You need to be supervised and watched, or else you’ll drift away from them again.

• Even Paul gets dragged into it. When it comes to parenting you, he’s never really formed his own opinion on anything. He’ll just agree with whatever Marko says, unless it’s something extreme that might bring you harm. He just wants you to be happy, because when you’re happy, you’re more fun to be around.

• Surprisingly, you find yourself seeking out David’s company. It’s not that you feel bad for the way the others seemed to have lost respect for him, but rather he’s the only one that isn’t excessively coddling you.

• You can always tell by that smug look on his face that this is exactly what he wants- for you to come crawling right back to him. It doesn’t bother you much though. Maybe once the others realise that their overbearing nature is only pushing you away, they’ll drop the act and return back to normal.

• Of course, this new order is only temporary. There’s only so much David will put up with before he decides to take back his rightful position as pack leader.

• Once he’s back in charge, things begin to settle down again. Marko wouldn’t have as much control over you, but Dwayne would still he pretty needy.

• Even after David gains back the respect of the others, the way they punish you in the future would change. They decided it would be be more of a group decision rather than David having the final say.

• Unfortunately, the boys don’t really stick to this. They find it too much of a hassle to figure out a suitable punishment every time you do something wrong, so instead each of them just takes it into their own hands.

• David and Marko start resorting to physical violence as a way of keeping you in line. David thinks that the only way of teaching you a lesson is by eliciting fear from you. He’s always careful not to take things too far (for fear of breaking your fragile mental state) but one beating every now and again won’t cause any lasting damage.

• Marko has always been the most physically abusive, so things only get worse after this. He’s less restrained with his punishments than David- often throwing you into furniture or twisting your limbs until you swear you can feel your joints popping. He’ll scare you into staying silent about it, threatening you with even more pain if you go crying to Dwayne. Marko LOVES hearing you whimper and cry, but only when it’s because of him. If it’s because of David then he’ll hold you tight and stroke your hair, telling you that everything will be alright, and that he’ll always take of you.

• Paul kind of knows about how they treat you, but he doesn’t do anything about it. He doesn’t know the extent of the abuse, but he’s aware that something’s going on (he accidentally walked in on you getting changed and saw the bruises). If you fuck up around Paul, he won’t really do much. Sometimes he’ll threaten to report you to David, but never actually does it because he can tell that the thought of David punishing you makes you terrified, and he doesn’t want you to fear him.

• Dwayne is the only one who actually sticks to the whole ‘group punishment’ idea. It would be pretty hypocritical if he went against it considering he was the one who came up with the idea. It’ll usually be basic stuff like not being allowed to go to the boardwalk or not being allowed any dinner that day.

• All in all, they would certainly try to change their methods of parenting, but that’s not to say it actually works. They’ve solved the issue of you being distant, but now you’re skittish and nervous, especially around Marko and David.

• The only thing they actually learned from the months of you being isolated is that they don’t like leaving you alone. It fucks with your head, and it also means that they don’t get to spend as much time with you. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that they love you, but they’re always quick to remind you when you try to run away. One mention of a life without them and they’ll all guilt trip you about it for days.

Tag list- @purple-lemon-8 @xjesterxjacksx @whatispopping69 @simplyreading96 @lostbetweenvampiresandmusic @humbuginmybones

[allergic-to-semen]

i just want to add on some additional thoughts- i think for a lot of people in hobbyist communities and nerd communities there is actually a point of pride in spending money on this garbage.

On reddit an argument i see ALLL THE TIME IS "well maybe you're just mad because you're broke." you can't afford the latest PC build, you can't afford the latest monster high skullector dolls, you can't afford the latest magic the gathering expansion pack, so why should we listen to you? You're just being a hater.

And that is a poor argument, especially considering a lot of these hobbies target children as well. I begun gaming as a child. I begun collecting dolls as a child. I begun playing cards as a child. Children do not income at their disposal, and their parents are going to hesitate to allow them to start a particular hobby when the barrier to entry is so high.

And that makes me sad.

We've already seen these demographics shift. Adults are now buying more toys than any other age group because kids can't AFFORD it anymore. As a kid, I could save up my allowance and get a nice barbie with good clothes and a nice face mold (remember the Fashion Fever line of the early 2000s?), I could purchase a disc at gamestop to play Fallout 3 on the family computer, and fifteen dollars was enough money for a decent enough starter deck for magic the gathering.

so, to those who say "oh well you guys are just broke haters," let me ask you, is that REALLY the world you want? Where these hobbies are completely inaccessible to kids?

something about the way nerd and hobbyist communities will settle for the bare minimum.

i'm a doll collector, and in my twenty years of collecting i have seen the quality of dolls, doll clothes, and other doll accessories degrade massively within the last decade, with the steepest decline in the last five years. yet whenever mattel does a release for barbie or american girl, everyone is CLAMORING for it. Doesn't matter if the factory face paint is wonky, doesn't matter if the clothing is thin or has loose threads. People will show up to spend their money. pcs and consoles are getting more and more expensive and everyone says that's just the price we have to pay to in order to game. games will release, unfinished, full of bugs, charging you out the ass for expansion packs and stupid shit like that, and we'll just shrug and say "well it's better than nothing."

shows on different networks and streaming services will cancel despite their loyal followings and we just accept that's the way it is now. they will botch storylines and lead fans on for seasons. and this is normal.

wizards of the coast literally used ai art for a magic expansion pack and people still bought it.

we need to stop riding these people's dicks. mattel, wotc, disney, or any other company does not give a fuck about us man. they care about increasing shareholder value. the customer liking the product is literally just an additional perk to them, not the goal.

i just dont understand why we keep doing this to ourselves. they aren't going to change. we gotta stop giving them our support.

[lexirosewrites]

Something vaguely spooky this week for slick sunday

[A weird Nosferatu (2024) AU tht I am writing on & off with very vague ideas of how a plot would work: O!Steve is sensitive to the supernatural & it's exacerbated by his first run in w the Upside Down, vecna dies in s4 AU, eddie lives AU & is exonerated........ so have an excerpt or 4 from different points in the story bc it's mostly just disjointed scenes I wanted to write down for now]

[This first scene is following Steve getting involved in the Upside Down at the end of s1]

At 17 years old, Steve Harrington bolted awake as he fell from the edge of his nest to the floor of his bedroom. Desperate to get away from the creatures of his nightmare. He felt feverish and near delirious with the images that played behind his eyes. Heads full of mouths that bloomed like a horrific flower to reveal petals of sharp teeth, and stinking black saliva. Wallpaper bulging till it was torn away by long digits that were more claw than any other idea of anatomy the omega knew. Memories of what was yet to happen swam through his mind; raw meat, dog like horrors, cold cement tunnels, a towering monster of melted meat, and a grandfather clock tolling only three times till it is shattered.

Phantom sensations of horrible pain seared through his entire body. Steve hadn't slept through the night since his heroism in the Byers house. He was lucky now to get four hours of sleep, if at all. Insomnia had not troubled him since he was 13 years old, and now he felt too young once again. Because he'd begun to hear them once more; the different voices that whispered every night, different visions of different futures, and he'd awoken three times in the past two weeks to find himself standing out of his bed on his way to either the front door or worst of all the back door.

The omega's heart pounded like it might break his rib cage, and his blood thundered feverishly throughout his body. Desperately, he climbed back into his nest and clasped his hands together. He did not close his eyes. He could hear the antique clock in the hallway ticking with the passage of time. The young omega was alone in the house as his parents were away for work.

Steve then did something he never thought he could do, he reached out into the night in search of something to ease his pounding heart.

"If those things are real then anything can be real and maybe someone is listening. Please if there's a God, an ancestor I never knew, someone, a guardian angel, anyone, anything that can hear me, please. I just wish to feel safe to sleep again, to have the piercing pain in my skull fade even just a little."

A soft chime from the clock in the hall.

"Please, answer me."

A second chime.

"Hear my voice."

The final chime of the clock and the digital numbers beside his bed, that he could not see as his unblinking eyes drifted to the moonlight pouring in throigh his window, denoted the time was 3am. He whispered a phrase that felt like it echoed further than the walls of his room.

"Heed my call."

His window opened.

[A scene in the summer of 1986, the young adults have gathered at the Harrington’s house for a night of movies & drinking & smoking]

Steve slips off into a hazy sleep laid out on the comfortable couch of the houses communal den that his father had scented briefly before his parents left for their trip, the scent has faded. His eyelids grow heavy as he wonders about when his parents will call (it's been longer than usual) and the noise of all these people he trusts lulls him to sinking into a dream.

He dreams of himself in a different place. In a forest of trees he instinctively knows are not native to North America. Steve stands on a gravel road that he can see leads to a cross roads. Further away upon the side of a mountain, a castle is carved. His heart feels it might stop as he scents lilac flowers. As he hears a breath that is not his own.

Steve wakes up. He is standing in his backyard facing the forest. Robin is holding his hand, tightly, and he can scent her distress.

[Later in the story when stuff w the nosferatu is ramping up & everyone in the pack gets involved]

Everyone is talking. Everyone is planning how to help Steve's sleep walking. When El speaks up.

"There is something more. Something you think you can't tell us, but that I cannot see." Her eyes are older than someone her age, and Steve feels his heart seize as the room goes silent.

"It isn't the Upside Down." Steve starts. "It's-- he's-- I was a lonely kid. I had people who liked to say they were my friend but no one really meant it. Not till all of you. I have had this happen before-- sleep walking-- it lasted for a year, when I was thirteen. I don't remember how it stopped, but after getting involved in all of this," he gestured to show he meant the entire alternate dimension situation that brought them together "it started up again."

"What else?" Hopper asked. Now in a mode of information gathering, of investigating.

"One night-- I was so scared from not sleeping and my parents were gone and I kept seeing things that hadn't happened yet, that I reached out. I called out asking for anyone, someone. Anything to answer, to help me sleep and make the pain throbbing in my head not feel so awful." Steve took in a deep breathe as he forced out the next words. "Something answered."

[Another snippet related to the above but idk how to connect it yet]

"I will jump into your dream." El speaks so assuredly, her tone so confident, and everyone is agreeing. Except Steve.

"No. No, you can't."

"Why not? I am strong again, stronger."

"Yeah Steve, El can kick this guys ass out of your head." Mike is actually using a reassuring tone.

"It isn't Vecna!" Dustin jumps in. "She beat him--"

"Exactly! He isn't Vecna! He's-- he's worse!" Steve is frantic, they need to understand. El cannot risk jumping into his dreams.

"How can this guy be any worse Steve?" Robin is holding his hand and Eddie has placed his on the omega's shoulder.

"Because he isn't a mortal who was born with powers by chance or inheritance or by the fucked up design of a government!" Steve stands, shaking off their hands because he feels sick with anxiety, and begins to pace the length of the living room. "Because he's older than all of this! He isn't someone who will just let me go because a mortal girl pops into a dream and says so! He doesn't exist in some alternate dimension beneath our feet, he exists here! In this world! He doesn't lie to me, he won't tolerate an intrusion, he will find you El! He will know you are there, he will know you're trying to be there, and he will hurt you!"

The room is silent and every eye is on him.

"He will hurt you all and he will make me watch."

I haven’t seen Nosferatu, so I’m not able to fully understand this one, but it seems interesting!

[billiesbabygirleilish]

Hey could you do one where the reader is the princess of whales and ran away to the states and soon right after her 18th birthday and and meet Billie at a Party and they have been dating for a while and Billie wants to meet the readers parents but the reader doesn’t want Billie to know that she is part of the Royal family because she scared that Billie won’t want to be with her anymore

an: ok this is crazy bc I STUDIED WELSH SOOOO yay for me. ALSO I really love the idea of royalty running away

Royal Escape

𓆩:¨༺✧ ♛ ✧༻¨::¨༺✧ ♛ ✧༻¨::¨༺✧ ♛ ✧༻¨:𓆪

𓆩:¨༺✧ ♛ ✧༻¨::¨༺✧ ♛ ✧༻¨::¨༺✧ ♛ ✧༻¨:𓆪 The California sun felt good on your skin, a far cry from the grey skies of London you'd grown so accustomed to. Here, in LA, you were just you. No titles, no protocols, just you, chasing a life that felt… real.

And then there was Billie.

You met her at some industry party a few weeks after you'd turned eighteen, a kaleidoscope of flashing lights and deafening bass. You, awkward and trying to look like you belonged, and Billie, effortlessly cool, her sleek black hair glowing under the strobing lights. You’d traded numbers, then texts, then dates at hole-in-the-wall diners and spontaneous drives down the Pacific Coast Highway. You fell hard, and you fell fast.

Now, six months later, you were perched on the edge of your couch, nervously picking at a loose thread. Billie was due any minute, bringing takeout from your favorite Thai place. The air crackled with anticipation, but also with a growing sense of dread.

"So," Billie said, setting the bags on the coffee table. "I was thinking… Maybe it's time."

You knew what she meant. She'd been dropping hints for weeks. "Time for what?" you asked, stalling.

"Time for me to meet your parents. I really dig you, you know? I wanna be a part of your life, all of it.” Her eyes, that mesmerizing shade of blue, searched yours.

Panic clenched your stomach. Your parents. The King and Queen. You could just imagine their reaction to Billie. Not that they were snobs, exactly, but they certainly had a… specific idea of who you should be with. And Billie, with her edgy style and unapologetic attitude, was the antithesis of that.

The truth was, you were petrified.

"It's just… complicated," you mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

Billie frowned, her brow furrowing. "Complicated how?"

"They're… busy," you offered weakly, already hating yourself for lying. "Really busy. With work and stuff."

"Okay," Billie said slowly, her voice laced with uncertainty. "But eventually…?"

You swallowed hard. "Eventually," you promised, the word feeling like a lead weight in your mouth.

The next few weeks were a blur of anxiety and elaborate excuses. You constantly deflected Billie's casual mentions of meeting your parents. You concocted elaborate stories about fake family emergencies and international business trips. You even considered hiring actors to play them, but quickly dismissed the idea as too ridiculous, even for Hollywood.

But the weight of the secret was suffocating you. You loved Billie, and you hated that you were keeping such a fundamental part of your life from her. You just couldn't shake the fear that once she knew the truth, everything would change. She'd see you as Princess Y/N, not just you.

One evening, you were at Billie's house, sprawled on her living room floor, listening to records. The air was thick with the comforting smell of incense and old vinyl. Billie was humming along to the music, her eyes closed, her face relaxed.

You watched her, a wave of affection washing over you. This, this was what you wanted. This simple, genuine connection. And you knew you couldn't let fear ruin it.

"Billie," you said quietly, interrupting the music.

She opened her eyes, her expression soft and questioning. "Yeah?"

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding against your ribs. "There's something I need to tell you."

The words caught in your throat. You started, stopped, started again. Finally, you blurted it out.

"My parents… they're not just busy. They're… they're the King and Queen of England."

The words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. Billie stared at you, her face blank. The silence stretched, agonizingly long.

"What?" she finally whispered, her voice barely audible.

You launched into a rambling explanation, your voice trembling. You told her about running away, about wanting a normal life, about being terrified of her reaction. You confessed your fears, your insecurities, your deep-seated belief that you weren't worthy of her.

When you finally finished, Billie just sat there, silent. You watched her, your stomach churning with dread. You had ruined everything.

Finally, she spoke. "So… you're a princess?"

You nodded, miserable.

Billie blinked. Then, a slow smile spread across her face. "That's… actually kinda badass."

You stared at her, dumbfounded. "Badass?"

"Yeah!" she exclaimed, sitting up. "Like, you ran away from royalty to live your own life? That's cool as hell."

You couldn't help but laugh, a shaky, relieved sound. "You're not… mad?"

"Mad? No way! A little surprised, sure. But mostly just impressed." She reached out and took your hand, her fingers intertwining with yours. "Look, I don't care if you're a princess, or a plumber, or a potato farmer. I like you for you. The you I know. The you who loves bad movies and sings off-key and steals all my hoodies."

You leaned forward and kissed her, pouring all your relief and gratitude into the kiss.

"So," Billie said when you finally broke apart, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Does this mean I get to wear a tiara when I meet your parents?"

You laughed again, feeling lighter than you had in months. "Maybe. But you have to promise to curtsy to the corgis."

The future was uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, you felt hopeful. You were still a princess, yes, but you were also you. And you had Billie, who loved you for exactly who you were, tiara or no tiara. And that, you realized, was more valuable than any crown.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

I like the idea of being called wasp anon thank you for giving me a name :)

And more silly ideas for X-Men au's

I've dubbed one "what's one more" because silly names are fun

Reader is a homeless teen who sees the mansion and breaks in one night planning to steal some food and stuff that a rich person wouldn't notice missing, when raiding the fridge one of the X-Men I'm thinking someone with a mutation that effects their looks (Kurt, Morph, anyone else) comes down stairs because of the noise they just think reader is another student they haven't met yet getting a snack reader realized "these people are like me!" And goes along with it in hopes of not getting in trouble.

They offer to walk reader back to their room letting them lead the way, reader who imagine having a mutation that lets them know where people are (enhanced smell or hearing as a part of their mutation) picks an empty room and says that they definitely live there and choses to stay the night and leave in the morning but they don't they meet all these nice people who think there new and they just play along somehow always narrowly missing the telepaths that could learn the truth, leaving the kitchen seconds before Xavier enters, checking out a library book and leaving moments before Jean enters looking for the exact book reader checked out.

Reader plays along because food, a warm bed, clean clothes, and no one judges them because of their mutation.

They take it as far as coming up with a fake schedule for classes and going to study sessions, heck reader didn't even know what and "X-Men" was until they managed to get their hands on one of the schools pamphlets.

Teachers, storm, Logan ect, just think that the email about reader joining their class got lost in the junk folder full of emails from parents screeching about grades or hateful emails from anti-mutent groups that got their emails.

They think they just forgot to mark reader as living in their dorm.

Reader lies about why they don't go in the danger room they just have a horrible medical condition that they conveniently forgot the name of

Reader makes sure to stay out of trouble to avoid having interaction with teachers that could figure them out.

The teens are now really obsessed with their new friend that just seemed to show up overnight their nice and kind and helped Kurt pick his lock after he left his key in his room! (Reader made them promise to never ask where they learned that skill) And they never go to parent teacher night saying their parents are just way too busy and live in another state.

Then there's the adults, reader is this child who showed up one day and started going to their classes and sat alone until they were invited for lunch by the teens they worry about reader they always seem on edge and only had three pairs of clothes until Jubilee invited them to go shopping they offer after school help but reader never shows up even if their failing they once saw reader pickpocket a kid who stole kitty's hair clip and get it back plus the kids wallet (they chose to ignore the theft) they wonder where reader learned these skills but feel it's rude to ask.

Until reader gets hurt one day when playing tag with the teens and they go to email readers parents about the incident they realize reader isn't in the school system infact reader never met Professor Xavier and it all comes to a head with reader sitting in the medical bay in a cast confused as to why every adult is shoving adoption papers in their face.

All in all it's just a bunch of chaotic lies and tactical bullshitting on readers part that they hope people believe.

It can be for literally any X-Men series.

Anyways thank you for listening to me ramble -the newly dubbed wasp anon!

F*ck yes, Wasp Anon! (I apologize for the long wait!)

This seems like maybe it'd fit in my reboot au of X-Men Evolution, X-Men Revolution, or The Animated Evolution, if you combined Evolution with TAS/97...

Reader, a homeless teen who was kicked out, snuck into this loaded house that full of more things than they've ever owned, it doesn't have mold or roaches, and theres food, LOTS of it. They're raiding the fridge, they're on high alert, they're gobbling whatever is closest and easiest to open, and then completely get lost in the fact they're eating for the first time in days and the food is good.

They're so lost in it, they don't notice Morph walk in, hoping to grab a glass of water, only to stumble on... a new kid? Huh. Must be recent. Well, mihht as well introduce themself and make sure they get back to bed, it's a school night! They ask to take a snack to bed, and well, why not? So off they go to find their room... and huh, the one this kid, Reader, they said their name was, lives in is a bit dull... Hmmm... this means a shopping trip is in order! They can do that this weekend! They bud the new kid good night, tell them where the bathroom and shower is, and leave an extra blanket by the door in case they need it.

Reader can't believe their luck. One, they'd didn't get caught; two, they now live here; three, they have FOOD. This. Is. Gold. They better keep this up though! If they get kicked out, they really will be sh*t out of luck, again... Except maybe since that person was weird, maybe this is a place for weird people? Huh...They can work with this-

Kurt is excited to have a new classmate, and they know how to pick locks and climb walls and how to hide snacks! They're so cool! And their mutation is useful, helping them sense where things are and different pheromones and how crowded a room is! It's like a dolphin, or a bat, or an owl, or something! Very rad!

Scott is trying to figure out when he missed the new kid coming in, but he figures they arrived late and just went to sleep. Of course they also know how to jerry rig first aid and are a master at capture the flag and hide and seek training. He wonders if they had to hide from someone before... Hmmm... He thinks their parents shouldn't visit. Or ever be near them again, if they're this jumpy about getting caught with food or hiding their protein bars. He'll try to keep an eye out for them...

Jubilee likes this new kid! They know have to how fun, they can do all kinds of tricks, and they are so good at color matching! They're perfect for shopping trips and picking out clothes to wear and new music to try! She's a bit concerned when they hide, or want to be alone, because that's not healthy signs, according to Xavier and Logan... She knows! She'll be their new friend, and help them break out of their shell! Then they won't be so scared, and she'll have a new friend, and everyone can have fun!

Logan is surprised to see a new kid in his classes, but assumes Xavier added a new student at the last minute. He's a little more suspicious when they happen to struggle with some of the homework. A few tutoring sessions in, and he finds they're a smart kid, they were just missing a few of thr basics. Who taught this kid? They're great when they understand what they're doing, but who forgot to teach them basics like subtraction and how to properly use adjectives in sentences? Sweet Nature, he has some words for their last teacher...

When the new kid ends up hurt during a training session, the Professor tries to find their paperwork so he can contact their parents or guardian or family... and discovers none. A bit more digging reveals they are not in fact a signed in student, but a runaway. And he feels sympathy for them. He looks up what he can about their real name amd background, and is horrified horrified find they ran away from home due to developing their gift, and being rejected... Well. That won't do at all. He decides to launch an investigation, and offers to have Reader placed under his or his friends' care...

What do you mean you don't need to be adopted? Yes you do, poppet, now please pick who you want as your legal guardian so we can start helping you get better. No, no arguing. You will rest, and we will talk about it later. Good. Now get some rest, and sweet dreams... We'll wake you up later to talk after a nap...

[woofwoofwolf]

Meeting the parents (ch.1)

Misc. masterlist: [link]

Bachira Meguru x Reader

Summary:

You fall down the stairs and into Bachira's arms. In your eyes, he sees the similarities and differences the two of you share and it touches him deeply. He sees it as a challenge he can't help but accept, no matter what it might bring. Or maybe he's just looking for a way to distract him from the boring party he was at, that too.

Notes: Fake/Pretend Relationship, toxic parents, Bachira Meguru is a Ray of Sunshine, Bachira Meguru is a Little Shit, both can be true but at first ch. it's mostly the second one loll, reader hates soccer, I call it soccer here for clarity but just so you know, It's football not soccer, No Beta, proffesional soccer AU, Aged Up

Rating: G

Word count: 2,290

AO3 link: [link]

Bachira iddly stood next to Isagi and Reo, waiting for their conversation with some old CEO big shot to end. He was glad Reo was there with them. As expected he knew how to handle the conversation elegantly and professionally, with the occasional back up from Isagi. Bachira knew the look he’d receive from these types of people if he were to open his mouth and he wasn’t really feeling like having to deal with that at the moment. 

‘What a shit party…’

They were standing just outside of the big venue hall where a big charity gala was being held. A bunch of the former Blue lock players had been invited to promote it and rake in more cash. Bachira had failed to find an excuse to not attend, so he spent most of the night sticking to Isagi’s side. The three of them had just escorted a rather drunk Igarashi to a taxi when they were stopped by a rather enthusiastic old man smoking just outside the venue. 

Bachira missed the days of Blue Lock, when dealing with these annoying people wasn’t part of the job and they were able to focus on only the sport.

‘Maybe I should try and get shitfaced too to get an excuse to leave,’ he thought as they finally said goodbye to the man. 

Just as he turned around, a woman dressed in a fancy dress, namely you, quite literally fell down from the stairs into his arms. Shocked, Bachira took a hold of your arms to steady you against his frame. Stumbling you grabbed a hold of his forearm to not face plant onto the concrete.

“(Y/N)!” a woman on top of the stairs shrieked and your hold on Bachira’s arm tightened. The lady herself almost tripped down the stairs chasing after you with what Bachira assumed to be her husband.

Bachira looked down at you, who was still secured in his arms. You stood frozen against him, teeth clenched looking down at your feet.

“This is all because you refuse to listen to us!” the lady hissed once she reached the bottom of the stairs. “Silly girl!”

Isagi, Reo and Bachira stood and watched in uncomfortable silence as your father nodded along to your mothers berating comments. All the while you wouldn’t spare a look their way.

“First you lie to us about some nonsense boyfriend in front of that poor Watanabe-kun, and then you have the gall to run away from us, I’ve had more than enough of your antics for tonight!”

Wow. Majorly uncomfortable. Did this woman not see Bachira and his friends standing there or something? 

He felt really bad for you, who finally turned to face them, though your hand was still unconsciously gripping at his arm.

Bachira then got a good look at your face. And more importantly, a look into your eyes.

‘Oh no, she’s CUTE cute…’

Bachira believed that a person's eyes were a window to the soul, as cliché as it sounds. In your eyes he saw a storm, a desire to break free and a willingness to believe in that freedom. He also recognised that pang of loneliness you carried all too well. 

“I’m not lying! He’s–” You made panicked, seemingly accidental eye contact with Bachira, who blinked back at you. You finally seemed aware that you were still holding onto him and you let go as if he was burning hot.

Your mother gasped loudly enough to pull all eyes back on her. “Don’t tell me–” she said in a whisper. “This is him?”

“What–” your head whipped back to Bachira. Looking into your eyes, Bachira thought he saw you do a panicked assessment. Your hand flew back to his arm and you squeezed it, hard. “YES! This is my boyfriend who I told you about!”

Oh. This party very suddenly wasn’t so boring anymore. 

In those few seconds of eye contact, what about him had convinced you you could pull this stunt? The way you were bruising his arm, was that your way of threatening him to play along?

‘How cute…’ Bachira grinned. He didn’t know why you, an adult woman, were in this situation that felt like a shoujo manga set in a highschool, but he didn’t really care either.

“That’s right,” he said sweetly, taking a respectful bow towards your parents. “It’s very nice to meet you, your daughter has told me great things about you.”

He heard Reo behind him disguise a laugh as a cough, while Isagi muttered a soft “Oh no…”

”Oh! So polite,” your mother giggled. “It’s alright, you don’t have to tell such an obvious lie about this rude child.” 

If you were to ask Bachira, it was your parents who were being the rude ones.

“Oh no no, she’s been wonderful!” You flinched at his wide smile directed your way. “Right, darling?”

“I, uh, sure.”

“I can see why you wouldn’t tell us his name,” your father finally spoke up. “Out of everyone, I would’ve never expected it to be Bachira Meguru. It’s a shame, but you we won’t be able to go public with this for a while.”

“Oh,” you responded, your voice a bit higher than before. “You know him.”

“Of course darling, you know he’s in your fathers favourite club, right?” Your mother laughed in a condescending way that really irked Bachira. 

“It’s very nice to meet you, I’m a big fan,” your father said.

You looked at Bachira with a forced smile “Club… Right. Soccer… Haha…”

“I’m really sorry about that, it’s so like her to not have interest in other people’s lives, she’ll make for an awful wife, I’m sure.”

Did they want you to have a relationship or not? He found the situation to be rather confusing.

“She’s been nothing but supportive, ma’m.”

“Really? But (Y/N) hates soccer!”

‘Is that so?’ Bachira could only see this information as a challenge.

He laughed loudly. “I must’ve convinced her otherwise with my overflowing charm.”

Your grip on his arm stuttered and he felt the disgusted glares of his friends on his neck. He could try to not be annoying, but he was having so much fun with this. There was that annoying laugh again from your mother.

“A-anyways, mom, dad, there you have it. So. Ehm, you can leave us alone for now.” You glared at Bachira, probably to tell him to keep silent.

“But I want to get to know him!” your mother whined.

“H-he can come by another time, right Machira-san? I really think he ought to bring me home for now, since I’m not feeling well…”

Bachira was amazed that your parents failed to notice that you got his name wrong, or even that they fell for your awful acting in the first place since your distaste of the situation was more than palpable.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” your father said. “We’ll be expecting the two of you at the estate within the month. You got that, (Y/N)?” He gave you a stern look.

“Yes father,” you muttered. Bachira detected a hint of fear. 

‘This won’t do,’ he thought, clenching his fists.

“W-well, in that case–” your mother started. “I guess that’s alright.”

God, he wanted to tell them off so badly. But he didn’t want to put you in an even worse spot, so he didn’t. After all, he didn’t know what was at stake for you. So instead he bowed and smiled pleasantly as your parents made their way back up the stairs.

Then, when they were finally out of view, you dropped your hands from his arm.

Damn, it was sore. You had for sure bruised him. Hot.

You glared at him in silence, as Isagi and Reo closed back in on the two of you.

Isagi shook his head at his friend. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“That was hilarious,” Reo laughed. “I hope that went as you had planned, (Y/N).”

“What plan?” You sighed deeply. “And hello to you too, Mikage-kun…”

“You two know each other?” Bachira asked, a hint of a weird feeling rising in his chest. Reo shrugged. 

“We just went to the same high school. We’re not close,” you said, quick to be defensive for some reason. “So what, this guy is one of your little friends from– what was it called again? ‘Blue Lock’? I should’ve realised that before I opened my stupid mouth.”

Bachira feigned hurt by placing his hand on his chest. “‘This guy’? How cold, I’m your boyfriend, you know!”

You groaned. “I’m such an idiot! Why did I say that!”

“Can’t you just tell them the truth?” Reo asked, an eyebrow raised in your direction.

“Tsk, don’t you think I tried? But they threatened me to go to this event and when I got here they introduced me to a marriage candidate!” you pulled at your hair. “I can’t believe they pulled a stunt like that.”

“Damn,” Reo whistled. “I knew your parents were bad, but that’s some mediaeval shit.”

Isagi awkwardly looked on while you conversed.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said with a small bow. “My name is (L/N) (Y/N), I’m very sorry for disturbing your evening.”

“Ah! My name is Isagi Yoichi,” Isagi bowed in return. “Don’t apologise. I’m very sorry to hear of your situation.”

Bachira took his chance. “And I’m Bachira Meguru! Ba-Chi-Ra!” He sounded out his name to ensure you would remember this time.

“Nice to meet you,” you avoided eye contact out of clear embarrassment. He was going to have to fix that. “I’m sorry about… all that.”

“You love apologising, don’t you miss girlfriend?” 

Your expression turned flustered and you looked back at him a little startled. “Miss– huh?”

‘Cute. So cute.’

“If you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you just cut contact with them?” Isagi blurted out. His eyes widened in realisation. “I mean- that was a rude question, I appologise.”

“It’s alright,” you said, plucking at your dress to avoid eye contact. “I know it looks like I’m just tolerating all of this so I can mooch off of them for money. But the truth is that if I cut contact with them, they’ll do everything they can to make my life miserable. With their influence, they can make sure I’ll never find a job…”

Bachira felt disgusted hearing this. He couldn’t imagine a parent treating their kid like that, especially since his relationship with his own mom was so great.

“Scumbags…” Reo muttered. 

You sighed again. “It’s whatever. I can avoid them well enough in my daily life. I’ll just have to find a way out of this. At least I avoided getting engaged to that Watanabe Keisuke brat…”

You stumbled a bit when turning around. You’d clearly been drinking a bit. Bachira couldn’t blame you.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on driving home like that?” Reo asked, voicing his concern moments before Bachira could himself. 

“No, you idiot, I’m here with my parents, I’m going home using public transit.” You grumbled.

“Why don’t you let me bring you home?” Bachira smiled. “That’s what you told your parents anyways.”

“Huh? I just said that to get them off my case, obviously,” you snapped back, still on guard every time he spoke.

“The nearest train station is a 20 minute walk, you know,” Reo said. “Where do you live?”

You muttered the general area of your residence and Bachira recognised it as a not so nice area to live in. Your situation got more complicated the more he heard.

“That’s so far! Should we call you a taxi?” Isagi offered.

“I-I can’t pay for that…” you mumbled.

“Then it’s decided, I’ll bring you home!” Bachira cheered, excited to be able to talk to you for longer and to get away from the event. 

You eyed him suspiciously, clearly still unconvinced. “Haven’t you been drinking yourself?”

Bachira giggled. “I won’t be driving, I have a chauffeur, obviously.”

“Right. I forgot all you Blue Lock boys were loaded…”

Bachira looked at his friends, an amused grin on his face. “‘Blue lock boys’, she said.”

You took a step towards Reo, grabbing a hold of his shoulder. “Mikage-kun, I need you to be honest here, can I trust this guy?”

Reo looked up towards Bachira, who put on his best ‘innocent’ face. “He’s just an idiot who only cares about soccer, I don’t think you have to worry.”

You continued to glare at him. Reo sighed.

“He’s a good guy, (Y/N), you don’t have to worry, promise.”

Bachira slung an arm around Reo’s shoulder. “Shucks man, I love you too!”

“Get off of me, you idiot!” Reo shoved him back and Bachira held his hands up in defeat, a wide grin on his face.

“Well then, there you have it,” he laughed. “Tell my coach that I had to leave due to circumstances beyond my control, okay?”

“Tell him yourself!” Reo protested red faced, but Isagi nodded.

“I’ll do it. You take care, alright?” He then nodded towards you. “You too, (L/N)-san. It was nice to meet you.”

“L-likewise,” you mumbled with a pout. “And just (Y/N) is fine.”

She turned to Bachira, shoulders tense. “L-let’s just get this over with, so I can stop bothering you.”

Bachira smiled at you. Oh, but he wasn’t ready to let you go yet.

“Aye aye sir!” he saluted.

And so the two of you left towards the parking garage, where Bachira’s driver had parked his car.

Isagi and Reo watched after them in astonishment.

“We haven’t heard the last of this, have we?” Reo sighed.

“I’m afraid not,” Isagi said. “The way he was looking at her, we’lll definitely be seeing her again…”

A/N: OKAY SO, Honestly I usually prewrite all of my fics, but I just wanted to write this so I did. It was meant to be a one shot, but because I can only ever write long fics it seems, the ideas for how to continue this just kept flowing and I didn't do anything to stop it lol. So that's why I left it open for a chapter 2. (I might come to regret posting this since I'm a bit of a control freak when it comes to writing lol, who knows I might edit and repost, we'll see) I'll be really honest here: if you want a chapter two for this, engagement and comments will really help. It's not to hold this hostage I'd never do that, but I have other fics to work on and this isn't a priority unfortunately. Even though I love Bachira. A lot. So please let me know what you think! ALSO let me know if I should open a tag list for this..?

[tabletopsystem]

I think Judgement has a lot of potential to become my favourite Patron campaign because where all the other campaigns stumble across a loose fitting (maybe not quite as loose in PD) found family trope in the PCs, Judgement seems to very intentionally be doing it and it's working very well.

Buck is a father and Bebo has said he intends to just have Buck be a dad to everyone in silly and serious ways.

Paeon, while not explicitly taking on any one specific role, is a doctor, and a caregiver, and they like to go along with everyone else's ideas no matter how silly or bad intentioned they are. They have been bonding with the party in such a sweet way with all three of them (Fly fishing with Buck, going along with Mel's handshake joke, having fun with "Jaguire" Joe to the point that they just forgot about their plan with the spikes and just kept painting together). They give the vibes of a parent who cares a lot about their kids and wants to try and re-explore with them as they grow up.

Mel and Jaguar feel very much like siblings, even if that'd be weird cuz of how Jaguar's been treating Mel. I think this was especially emphasized in the most recent episode when they had a fight and then really started to open up to each other, especially with Mel actually paying attention to Jaguar for the first time and Jaguar trusting her with the stuff he considers to be his greatest secret. They feel like an older sister who gets annoyed by her younger brother but really does care about him, and the younger brother who just has a lot of cool stuff they're interested in that nobody else in the family really cares about. When Mel started actually listening to Jaguar he opened up to her instantly, and when Jaguar took a moment to be a little more grounded for Mel's sake, she saw that she could actually take him seriously.

Anyways yeah I love them they're a great family and I hope they really lean into it more.

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

i yearn for ponyboy angst after johnny and dally die and for once he needs darry and not soda...or more of the curtis bros grieving their parents/their friends/their childhoods together. just curtis bro angst all day every day. love ur stuff!

AGH!! TY LOVE!! this ask has been truly rottin' in my brain I thought about it durin' my ENTIRE shift today!! I hope you like it!! fic under the cut!!

also song >:D

"Pony?" Darry's sayin' my name in a way that implies he's been sayin' it a while. I blink at him 'n I don't know where I've been. My fingers are all wrapped up in my jeans, white-knuckled. I try to relax but my body doesn't listen to me one bit, so I forget it.

"I've been callin' you, where were you at?" He crosses the room 'n taps a finger gently to my temple, brushin' my bangs off my forehead.

I shrug 'n he worries at his lip. "Somewhere else, I guess." Darry looks stricken but that's how he always looks nowadays: worried.

"I gotta talk to you about your hair, Pony baby." I inhale sharply 'n Darry's face twists up a little more. He moves all slow, eases down onto the couch beside me 'n wraps an arm around my shoulders like I might fall to pieces.

"I'm not colorin' it I swear to God I'm not-" Steve had made a joke, some comment, maybe even just a suggestion, that I dye my hair back to its normal color. I don't think he meant anythin' bad by it. I dunno. I can see it more now. Darry's rough 'cause he's scared. Steve was mean when he meant to be kind. I think Dallas was like that. Rough 'cause he didn't know how to be soft.

I think I said somethin' awful to him. I was always doin' that. Bein' cruel 'cause it all hurt so bad. Last week Darry 'n I had fought 'cause it's all we knew how to do 'n I'd told him I bet he wished I had died that night. Just like-

I didn't mean it. I never meant it. I didn't know how to not mean it.

"Honey?" I shake my head. Darry's lookin' at me again with big scared eyes 'n I know I've done it again. Gone somewhere.

"Sorry." Darry cups the side of my face, there are new wrinkles alongside his eyes. He always looks like he's just waitin' for somethin' bad to happen.

"S'ok, baby. I ain't gonna make you do nothin' to your hair." Soda's beside me now, too. I don't remember when he got there. "We've been talkin' 'n baby... we need you to let us help you wash it."

I flinch. Hard. Straight back into Soda's arm 'n know he had it there, ready to brace me. "No." Darry sighs, glances over my head, 'n Soda gathers me up into his arms.

"Look, honey. I'm not gonna make you. But I think... you'll feel a bit better. You don't gotta take a shower or nothin'. Maybe a bath?" Darry tries, reachin' out 'n coverin' my hand in his.

"No." I don't know what it was. I'd gone through the damn fire 'n come out scared of the fuckin' water. That night in the fountain was a million years ago. Glory, I don't know how I had space in my head to even remember it.

But I did. Fuck. I did.

"Hey Pony? Can we try somethin' else then? If you humor me?" Soda's tone is pliant 'n a little too bouncy. It gets like that sometimes. But someone has to be alright. So we don't mention it.

He climbs off the couch, pulls me gently up 'n I don't fight it. Darry's got a hand on my shoulder 'n Soda's got his arms around me still 'n they were like this more. Since. Like if they weren't always touchin' me I'd fade right away into nothin'. Sometimes it was nice. Sometimes it made me want to bite 'n tear 'n fuckin' scream.

The kitchen counter is clear, a couple towels folded onto the table, a chair tipped back against the sink. Soda guides me over to the chair, asks me a million questions in those big brown eyes he has that I don't know how to go about answerin'.

Are you fine? Is this fine? Does this remind you of- Does this remind you- Does this-

"Look, if you sit here you can rest your head back 'n I can wash your hair out without havin' to get you any closer to the water. D'ya think... that's somethin' you can stomach?" Soda's off to my side doin' all the talkin' but I'm lookin' straight out at Darry. He's still got a hand on my shoulder 'n Jesus. Has he always looked at me like that?

He shifts his weight 'n furrows his brow. His hand comes up slowly like I'm a spooked animal that might bolt. Some kicked dog. Some scared foal. He cups the side of my face 'n it occurs to me. It's the same place he'd once struck.

Odd. Both times touched in fear. A million years apart. I'm not even sure he notices.

"Pony?" I finally tear my eyes off Darry 'n when I twist my head, he lets his hand fall back to my shoulder.

"Ok." My voice aches. It always does. Maybe from the smoke. Maybe from the cold burn of that still water rottin' in my lungs even now. "Ok, I'll try." The look that Soda 'n Darry shoots over my head is filled with such a palpable relief I nearly cry.

"Ok, baby. I know this isn't easy. D'you think you can... take his jacket off?" Soda already has both hands around my biceps, just gently restin' there like he knows I'm gonna flinch again. "I ain't gonna take it-" My eyes flicker to Darry 'n hurt flashes across his face (not meanin' it, not knowin' how not to)- "'n neither is Dar. I just don't wanna get it wet 'n mess it up, ok hon? But if it's too much I can just try my best to avoid it?"

I clutch at the collar. 'N I can hear his voice clear as day. You better not fuck that leather up. You have no idea how much trouble it was to steal.

'N I almost laugh. Almost.

"He'd kill me if I let you give it the kitchen sink treatment." 'N my voice sounds all thick in my ears. I want to laugh. I want Dallas to knock me up the back of my head for even thinkin' of it. I want-

"Oh, Ponybaby." Soda's arms are around me again. I'm cryin'. When did I start cryin'? Why? 'N it's one of those times I don't want them to hold me. Jesus. It makes me want to run. To let the ache in my throat dissolve into the burn in my lungs. I want to bite 'n tear 'n scream.

But all I can do is sit there. Stiff in the arms I wish I could melt into.

"Soda." Darry drops a hand onto his shoulder 'n gently pries him off of me. When he takes his face out of my neck his cheeks are wet 'n I don't know whether it's my tears or his. "He's not-"

Here.

For a long moment, none of us move. Like a gunfight. Or a caged animal. 'N then I drag blunt nails under my eyes 'n scrub my face 'n Darry blows out a long breath like he'd been holdin' it. He lets go of Soda 'n we all go back to pretendin' nothin' happened. Or at least I do.

"Do you... want help?" When I look down my knuckles are white against the collar. I flex my fingers 'n they burn like that time I'd split them against some socs' jaw. Or that night Johnny 'n I had slept in the backyard out under the stars 'n the cold scalded along my hands 'n cracked my skin 'n I'd bled 'n bled 'n bled-

"Don't make me do it." 'N when I'd looked up at Darry I knew he understood what I meant. I squeezed my eyes shut 'n felt hands roughened by labors of love that had done nothin' but leave him with callouses 'n scars rest at my neck. He pulls the jacket off quickly 'n the rush of winter air slinkin' through the cracks we'd never be able to seal up scorches against my bare arms. I don't open my eyes until Darry presses the bundle to my chest.

When I look to Soda again, his face is dry 'n he's wearin' this encouragin' little smile that tugs too tight on the edges of his mouth. "You ready, Pony?"

I nod. Just a bob of my chin that takes every last ounce of strength in me. Darry turns, yanks another chair close to my side 'n Soda guides my head down to the sink.

The tap flips on. A lonely titterin' against the empty bowl. I don't control anythin' that happens after. Not the low, whimperin' sob that snakes out of my mouth. Not the way my shoulders jar up 'n away. Not my nails bitin' into Darry's arm so hard they leave bloody, half moons in their wake.

"No. Soda, no. Soda. I can't." Darry smooths one hand over my forehead 'n I reach for his wrist, catch it tight 'n hold on like if I don't let go he can keep me out of that night. If I can keep him here I can't go back.

"Pony?" Soda drops down so he can see my face. Reaches out to wrap me in his arms 'n I flinch. Fuckin' flinch. Right back 'n up into Darry's lap.

'N none of us are movin' again. Soda's falterin' in place, arms half reached out 'n face a mask of hurt 'n Jesus why do I always hurt the people I love? Why can't I stop bitin' the hand that wants to hold me?

"What is it, Pony? Are you here?" 'N I can't make my voice or body or anythin' work the way it should. But before I can stop it I choke out-

"Darry." 'N Darry lets out a little noise from somewhere so far in the back of his throat it comes out like a whimper.

"Oh, little colt." 'N suddenly his arms are around me again. My face is pressed into his chest 'n I'm heavin' deep sobs that have been rottin' in my chest for too long. Since before Dallas or Johnny. Before the week in the church or that night in the park. Maybe since Mama. Since Daddy. Since the last person to call me that was put in the freezin' Tusla earth.

"I love you." 'N it's whispery 'n waverin' 'n also the surest thing I've ever heard. 'N this time when I feel Soda return to my side, feel Darry open his arms 'n hold us both like were disappearin' before his eyes I just let myself be held. "You're here."

I am.

'N then he's shiftin' 'n I'm clutchin' his shirt tighter 'n he's pettin' my hair 'n tippin' my head back 'n not makin' me let him go though I'm too goddamn old 'n too big to be beggin' for my older brother.

"Keep your eyes closed, colt." 'N Soda's whisperin' somethin' low 'n soft 'n just louder than the sound the tap makes as it drip drip drips against the sink. 'N when the water runs along my temples 'n along the line of the scar that I'll carry until I die from the night I lost two brothers I don't think of the fountain.

No.

I think about the hot afternoon I won my first track race, felt sweat slide along my brow 'n saw the sun glint off Dallas' silver tooth even from way up in the stands. Hear the whoop of his voice still marred thick 'n heavy with his New York drawl. I think of runnin' home through the lot dodgin' the fat rain drops 'n stoppin' only to let Johnny catch up. Throwin' my head back 'n laughin'. Of the spray of a passin' car. I think of Soda laughin' as he flicks the spatterin' of water left on his hands at my face when we finish the dishes 'n mama not even scoldin' us.

I think of Darry's hands wet from the laundry as he runs a thumb absently over my face. Memorizin' it with calloused fingers when he thinks I've dropped off to sleep. The gentleness of his achin' love for us. Low 'n constant 'n how had I ever missed it?

"We're done, honey." 'N then I'm buried in his chest again, Dallas' jacket pressed against my stomach 'n Johnny's letter tucked into the inside pocket closest to my heart. Bangs drippin' cold between my brow, along my nose, 'n minglin' with tears never gone long enough to dry. 'N for the first time since it all, I'm right here. 'N it doesn't even hurt. It just aches.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

What would the stardew valley villagers think if one day their good pal farmer just casually dropped the fact they used to be into something crazy, like an illegal fighting ring. "Yeah I hiked out to an abandoned building at the outskirts of the city every Friday to fistfight people in the basement. It paid 10 times better then my shitty office job ever did but only when I won. There were some real actual martial artists in that ring too, even broke 2 of my fingers punching 1 guy, I miss hanging out with those dudes. Fighting actually relived a lot of stress for me, I didn't quit because I got hurt or anything I quit because my neighbors/coworkers wouldnt stop fussing over me when they saw me after I got hurt in a match. There's no acceptable way to explain how you get a black eye at the end of every week that doesn't raise alarm or get the cops called on someone. I'd probably get back into it if it didn't take a bus ride into the city to get to. I'm not even sure if the 1 i used to go to us still there, i might be able to find one of the other fighters and ask but its not guaranteed any if the other fighters i used to hang out with are all even still in that city"

"Wtf," said all the residents at the same time.

That's it, that's a headcanon. Thanks for the ask! ❤️

Alright, I'm kidding, but the way you wrote that ask, dear anon, is pretty funny heh 😁 Thanks a lot for the question, by the way! Enjoy 💖

_________________________________________

SDV villagers react to Farmer who told them about their illegal fights in past:

"Sir/Ma'am/Mx., this is Wendy's Pierre's." With all due respect to Pierre's best customer, why is Farmer telling him all this behind the counter of his store? Here's your seeds, fertilizer and saplings and goodbye. He has to work and he doesn't care about their- Wait, hold on, don't you dare tell that to his daughter-!

But Pierre was too late with his warnings: Abigail was standing nearby and had heard everything Farmer had said. The amethyst lover looked at them adoringly, because holy shit, underground fights in the city.... Farmer is so cool and badass in her eyes! Naturally, she wants to hear their stories of illegal fights (only when her parents aren't around).

Caroline called out to Abigail "on some very urgent business, quick!", bestowing Farmer with a shocked and concerned look. Seriously, she looked at them as if Farmer had just confessed to murder or something. Now she didn't really want her daughter hanging out with them, afraid that Abby would pick up the crazy idea to join the fights too.

Oh... Yeah, Elliott's friend has, uh... quite an interesting past. And what surprises the writer most is not even Farmer's underground battles themselves, but the fact of how they drastically change the trajectory of their lives and yet adapt to the environment with ease. From an office worker to a no-holds-barred fighter, and now a farmer. Well, if they want to write a biography, this would definitely be fun to read.

"Uh, what?" What did Farmer just tell Leah? The artist had listened to her dear friend's story about growing a giant pumpkin while she was finishing a new painting, and now how they were discussing Farmer's criminal past. Uh, cool and all, but maybe they'd better change the subject? Can they go back to telling stories about pumpkins?

"Ha ha ha how interesting, thanks for sharing!" Although Penny stood like a statue, motionless, her body slowly moved away from Farmer, who had just answered the teacher's question about their hobby in general. This was something she was definitely not prepared for, and, with a nervous smile, ended the conversation. How Penny moved without moving even a finger of her hand was a mystery.

*Shane put his can of beer away* Ok first of all, what the fuck. Second of all, he didn't really give a damn that Farmer was running around in dodgy places and fighting over money in Zuzu City, to be completely honest. Especially since the chicken man himself had done some crazy shit in his youth, not his place to judge or something. And last of all, what the fuck.

*Sob* "A- Aunt Marnie... Uncle Shane..." "Mommy! Sam!" "Uncle Linus!" Oops.... Apparently telling Jas, Vincent and Leo about 'the hobby' with detailed descriptions of violence wasn't Farmer's smartest idea (seriously, what did they even expect?). The kids have tears on their cheeks and their parents/guardians give Farmer a not-so-kind look. Now the delinquent farmer need lots of ice cream and mangoes so the local kids will forgive them.

Oh, so that's why Emily senses such an unusual aura around Farmer. Hmm? Ah, no, she just thinking out loud. Emily gets a little upset by such detailed descriptions of fights (she can't stand violence), so she politely asks Farmer to omit the details of their fights. An unconventional choice to 'relax', but it's not her place to judge people. And Farmer found some good friends there, so that's great!

Huh, now Marlon and Gil know where their new Guild member got their fighting skills from the very beginning of their arrival in the Valley. Fighting ring, eh? Marlon had dabbled a bit in all sorts of battles and fights for money too when he was Farmer's age - pretty good income, booze and friends. Though then he quickly gave it up as he found his purpose as adventurer and devoted himself to defending the Stardew Valley from monsters. Gil was the same, but he had been practicing his "hobby" a little longer than his one-eyed colleague.

Oh, goodness! So much violence and blood in Farmer's stories. Pity poor Evelyn's old heart, she can't listen to such cruel battles. So Farmer better stop talking and silently accept cookies and tea from sweet grandma and tell about their work on the farm.

Hmph! 'Underground battles', what a nonsense! Today's youth go to some abandoned buildings, fight, break laws and feel cool. If George wasn't confined to that damn wheelchair, he'd take Farmer down in one moment. And anyway, Farmer should stop this talking about their fighting, because George's wife doesn't like to talk about violence at the kitchen table.

"Tough fella, huh?" Alex regarded his friend Farmer for about half a minute. Really quite a formidable opponent if the athlete were to ask Farmer to fistfight in a friendly sparring. Though he's most interested in Farmer's diet and routine, since even before their farming career started, they look very healthy ("just don't suggest anything illegal, got it?").

*Sigh* The Wizard already knows. All. That. Farmer, how many times does he have to tell you he knows about your past? He's a wizard. A wizard. Someone who can see the future of others in a crystal ball and such. So unless Farmer brought him purple mushrooms or void essence, please don't distract Rasmodius with their stories, he has potions to brew.

"No freaking way, dude!" "Yes freaking way, Sam." The guitarist nearly fell off his chair when Farmer told him how they used to fight all sorts of big guys in the city in addition to their clerk jobs. Mega cool and hardcore! Sam will of course listen to more stories from his friend, but one moment, just let him close his room door so his mom or dad doesn't accidentally hear them.

Though Jodi doesn't particularly need to hear it from her oldest son's room - Caroline has already shared gossip and warnings with her during their weekly aerobics class. Which makes Jodi wary now, though she won't say her worries out loud. She won't treat Farmer any worse, they're good neighbors after all, she's just... worried about her sons, alright?

"Farmer, a word." Huh, they wonder what Kent needed from the Farmer. "I'll be honest: I don't know what your reasons were for your illegal fighting, it's none of my business and it's not for me to judge you. But don't suggest anything like that to Sam and Vincent, got it?" The veteran doesn't really care about Farmer's past, he just worried about his sons. Well, his kids are smart and won't get involved in anything illegal but just in case. Nothing personal.

That explains to Harvey how there are so many scars on Farmer's body. Quite a large number for someone as young as them. So how long had they been participating in these questionable activities? A month? Over a year? Some of the scars have long since healed. Wait, you know what - no need to tell him this further, because the first stories with such violence already made the doctor feel sick to his stomach.

"Uhhh..." Maru is shocked. "Goddess, did you really get paid so poorly in Joja that you had to do this as well to earn your bread?" Pretty shocking detail about Farmer, but hey, at least they made friends with many people back then, that's a good thing, yeah? Honestly, the inventor doesn't know how she should respond to that or what to say.

Ok, too much information for Gus... People are different, it's just that the owner of the Saloon doesn't understand how Farmer can talk about it so calmly and openly. He'd still understand if the Farmer told him about their illegal fights after a glass or two of strong wine/el, but they told him sober. They would, this, be careful who they told it to.

Sebastian took the cigarette out of his mouth and uttered a delighted 'wow...'. So, a job at a soul-sucking corporation during the day and bare-knuckle fighting at night? Damn, crazy lifestyle. But why didn't Farmer quit their job at Joja then? And why did they quit everything and become farmer now? Sebby's in no hurry to go home and if Farmer has some free time, maybe they'll tell the local emo about their fights in Zuzu City.

Haley sighs tiredly. Yoba, why does she have to be surrounded by weirdos? The guy who always wears black, her own sister's so weird with her crystals and aura nonsense. And now this new farmer is telling her wild facts about their life... It's so unfair!

"Aye," was the only thing Willy replied before taking up his smoking pipe again with his teeth. Not that thel old fisherman didn't care what Farmer was saying, but first of all, it would be better for both of them to sit in silence so as not to scare the fish away right now, and secondly, Farmer should not tell every person they met about their illegal hobbies. Other people might misunderstand them, or even use this information to blackmail them.

"What the fuck are you yapping about, kid?" Pam only partially heard their story, as the alcohol in her body already makes her feel very sleepy. Then there's this weird shit from Farmer. But also... if Farmer would now set another mug of beer for her, them she would listen to them, their every crazy story. With her eyes closed.

As soon as Demetrius hears exactly what Farmer told Maru, his wife Robin has to keep her hyper-parenting husband from taking drastic actions he might regret. So while he's sulking in the lab and glaring at his daughter and her friend, Robin gently explains to Farmer that this kind of talk about their illegal hobby isn't to everyone's liking, and if you can, don't mention it in front of her hubby and kids, okay? Especially such a detailed description of broken limbs (the picture comes to mind is unpleasant, to say at least). No offense.

What?! Illegal fights?! And Farmer's telling Lewis this as a reason to be proud?! They should be ashamed of themself! Doing... stuff like that. And what would their grandfather say if he knew their grandchild had such a secret? "I don't know, Lewis, what grandpa would say to your secret-" !!! Get out of his house! Hmph, the youth these days...

With each sentence, with each detail in Farmer's story, Marnie's face grew paler and paler. Her imagination was building such shock content over Farmer's story that the rancher asked them to stop. They had a hobby that helped them relax and earn money for living before moving here, that's a good thing. She doesn't need any more details.

"... Look, are you going to buy seeds or not?" Time is money, and Morris doesn't like to waste time listening to all these customer stories. Nor should Farmer tell the Joja general manager at all that they've been involved in some not-so-legal flights. Because Morris was advertising coupons in someone else's store without remorse, so what's to stop him from using that information to blackmail Farmer for the benefit of the mega corporation he's working.

".......Uh-huh." On the one hand, Clint had been stuck with the forge all day, and wouldn't mind chatting with Farmer, a friend and regular customer. On the other hand... What? Okay, he didn't care what they'd done in the past. One topic did interest him though. "You were already popular back then and you must have had a crowd of fans, right? Tell me, do 'wrestlers' like that attract women?" He wasn't desperate enough to get into illegal fighting too, but it was still interesting to hear what they'd say about it.