#the balance of raising kids keeping the world safe for them and maybe even a subplot where shes lookin for love god im thinkin so hard

[pcktknife]

It feels like a waste that no one has done a magical girl show where the magical girls are all milves

im so mad at you for saying this cause now i have to live knowing theyre arent any good magical milf groups

[lazypanartist]

HELLO i fucking LOVE ur stobotnik and their kid series!!! its what initially got me to watching the movies and into the sonic franchise as a whole!!! can i request a stobotnik and their kid whos sort of like maria.... like they genuinely love the world and humanity despite (ahem) everything Ivo says. Maybe add in a sprinkle of shadow who sees reader and is taken aback by how similar they are to maria, and now stone + ivo has to deal with their kid having a new guard dog/brother HDSHSDH love ur writing, hope u have a good day!!

AHHH I'M SO GLAD I COULD HELP YOU GET INTO THE SERIES!! Super touched 💙💙💙

*Frantically googling Shadow's personality + Maria Robotnik*

*Having a Crisis™ because WOW OKAY*

Anyways! I've been working on this since the request rolled in, and am 100% invested. Willing to take related requests ^-^

Stobotnik + Sweetheart! Child, + Guard Dog Bestie! Shadow

Note: this is long. Like, LONG long

Your fathers have always loved you, if a tad.. oddly.

Papa Ivo doesn't understand your interest with the rest of humanity.

"What if one of those disgusting cretins gets my baby sick? What if someone actually wanted to hurt you?"

"No, it's far safer for you if you stay by his or Papa Stone's side. Or in the lab. The lab is VERY safe, you know. Well idiot proofed"

Not that he's calling his baby an idiot, of course -

Baba Aban, however, seems to understand you.

Of course he respects Papa's wishes, keeps you close when you do go out, but he tries to sate your interest in humanity best he can.

Always open to questions, and will try to answer everything as age-appropriately as possible.

"What does Papa do all day?"

"He builds things for the government."

"Why?"

"Because it pays well enough to raise you and keeps him busy."

"Why doesn't Papa like other people?"

He.. doesn't have an answer for that one. Not really.

"Just because" sounds too shallow, and "Because people can be horrible" is almost worse.

"To keep you safe."

It's not a lie, but it's not the truth, and the way you huff lets him know you're onto him.

Lets Ivo know before you two are finished with errands, in case you bombard the older man with questions next

They both try and keep you entertained in their own ways

Papa Ivo tries to keep you interested in his machines, how they can be used to better your life

Baba Aban takes you out for errands and helps teach you in the kitchen

Life is as balanced as it can be, considering your solitude growing up

Both dads help you set up a little greenhouse in the traveling lab

"For self sufficiency!" - Papa Ivo

"To give them a new hobby." - Baba Aban

"To keep me busy." - Baby You™

You know what's up

SO since we don't yet know how Shadow calmed tf down in the movie, bare with me here.

After the events of Movie 2 and then the unearthing of Project Shadow, you and your dads are living in the Crabmeat base deep in the Pacific

You and Baba Aban still surface occasionally for groceries and supplies, while Papa Ivo throws himself into his work to distract himself from his latest defeat.

During one surface visit, looking around the Seattle streets while on the back of Baba Aban's motorcycle, you see a strangely familiar figure on a similar vehicle.

You tug on your das's sleeve before gearuring toward the hedgehog

"Baba.. that's not Sonic, is it?"

He looks, does a double take

"Uh.. no."

He's stopping near the same lot the two of you are, and Baba instructs you to message Papa

"Found another alien hedgehog, will update"

He seems wary when the two of you approach, glancing between you as Aban steps closer, an arm in front of your chest to keep you back behind him

"Who are you?"

The hedgehog glares, and you slink just a bit closer to see him

"I am the ultimate life form."

"Decided by who?"

"That's none of your concern."

The two are almost circling one another now, Baba keeping you behind him, even if just barely

"It's my concern if you're here to.. to destroy humanity, or whatever."

You eye him from behind your dad, but he just huffs a laugh

"Destroy? I was created to preserve your human lives."

Your eyes widen again, catching his own before he glanced back towards your Baba

"Is that a problem?"

You tug at Aban's sleeve again, and he slows his movement, letting you peek out more from behind him

"No.. I don't suppose it is."

You finally slip out from behind him, smiling, and Shadow is hit, mentally, with the image of Maria, smile - the same energy as your own

A certain kind of sad loneliness, with an undertone of care

He doesn't know why he thinks of it that way

All he knows is that it feels like home again

The two of you see each other a few times after that, while out on errands with Baba

Papa wants to meet him - of course - but doesn't want another Knuckles situation

(He's very glad that the echidna didn't try and go after you for revenge - after the emerald was taken away, he wasn't sure he could have saved you)

So he lets you - and Stone - approach him on the surface

Not that you know explicitly that you're helping.

Neither of your dad's know about Maria - at least not explicitly - and Shadow still hasn't voiced why he's so attached to you

He finds himself following you whenever he sees you on earth

Of course you're with Baba every time, kept at arms length from Shadow, but he keeps coming back

Papa allows it because he hasn't made any threats

Baba allows it because he seems genuinely friendly

And doesn't seem to recognize him

Finally - FINALLY - Papa asks Baba to help bring him to the base

Respectfully, if possible. He wants to keep the peace, even if it's just for your sake

You get to be the lucky one to invite Shadow to the base

You smile when you ask if he'd like to come, and all he can see is Maria inviting him to see a new breakthrough from her grandfather

He says yes

Immediately

Your smile gets wider

"This is the first time I've invited a friend home!"

His poor, walled-off heart cracks just a little, and he gives Stone a Look™

Baba just glanced away before offering him a ride in a (rented) car

The two of you sit in the back, just talking to each other, while Stone contemplated how he got to driving one of the aliens.

To his home.

With his child in the backseat next to said alien.

As long as you're happy, and Ivo's happy, then he's sure he'll be fine

Shadow is still vague with answers around his past - every time you try and engage him about family, friends, childhood, home - he thinks of Maria

He still tries to answer you - he grew up in space, with his best friend and her grandfather.

She was.. sick. Very sick. And she died.

Conveniently leaving GUN out of the convo.

He sees the sadness you have for him - the same Maria held when she told him to go - and decides that he'll make space for himself in your life

If you let him.

ONLY if you let him.

The three of you make it back to crabmeat safely, and both of your dads hover, but let you interact how you want

Shadow sees a lot of Gerald in your Papa, but won't say anything.

He can't

Not yet, at least

He ends up staying the night, nested on your floor next to your own little fort, facing the door even in his sleep

Ivo tolerates it, if barely

He brought the hedgehog here to study, not to befriend his baby

"What if he has.. space rabies?!"

Stone just rolls his eyes as he shuts your door most the way, alarm systems all in place for the night

"This is the first time they've had a friend over, Ivo. We'll know if something goes wrong - just let them have this."

"This" turned into "a live-in best friend" rather quickly, to both parents' surprise (and your absolute delight)

Eventually, he caves.

He starts answering questions truthfully, the pain still rather fresh in his mind

He tells you about Maria, about GUN, about his purpose and pain

And you're there to comfort him

He's not graphic, and you don't push, and he appreciates it more than he'll voice, even to you

He figures that as long as you're willing to be there and listen, he'll be there to keep you safe company

Both dads are.. annoyed

Ivo thinks this new hedgehog is overbearing - always at your shoulder, keeping you company when he's supposed to be, never seeming to let you out of his sight

Stone thinks he's up to something, the way he lingers between streets when you're out, watching from the shadows (ha)

In reality, he's just trying to keep you safe

Your dads seem to figure that out when one of Ivo's ridiculous predictions comes true - you wander just a bit too far from Baba to look at some UV lights for your plants on Crabmeat, and someone grabs your arm as they walk past, jostling you enough that you yelp

Shadow is there in half a second, sending the aggressor to the floor before tugging on your hand, coaxing you down so he can look at the bruise forming on your bicep

Baba Aban is there a second later, lowering himself and helping Shadow turn your arm before helping you back up

"We should leave."

The three of you are silent until halfway back to the base, when Baba tilts the rearview to look at Shadow while he's druving

"Shadow.."

"What?"

He always glares when he talks to anyone besides you. Typically toward the floor or their chests, but right now he's looking your Baba in the eyes through the mirror, watching your father's gaze soften

*Thank you."

And thank YOU anonymous requester for all of this!

The requests for Sonic Movieverse, and this particular headcanon set, are wide open! Please send me reqs! I'm fixating like a mofo right now!!

[modernday-orpheus]

Okay, hear me out. If Tim idolized Batman instead of Robin, Bruce would be dead.

Disclaimer: I am not perfect and don't know everything there is to know about comics! Some shit here may be accidentally based on fanon rather than canon! Please be nice!

Tim, of course, respects and looks up to Batman. Bruce is his mentor and his father, so it's safe to assume he loves him as well. But his Hero™ is and always has been Robin, Dick at first but especially Jason judging by the timeline. Most people in Gotham view Robin as an addendum, an extra, nothing more than a kid sidekick. They’re disappointed if her shows up without Batman, and question his abilities. Tim’s hero worship combined with his knowledge of their identities, in this case, allows him to see things as they truly are. For Tim, Robin is a light in the dark, a balancing act with Batman, not his sidekick but his partner. He’s a necessary part of the Dynamic Duo because while Batman represents Justice, Robin represents this Hope for a better future. Sure, he’s just a kid; by all accounts he shouldn’t even be out there fighting, but maybe, if he is, no other kids won’t have to fight as hard just to survive. He represents the soul of Gotham, underneath the criminality and corruption; a city full of people, tough-as-nails, saying “No, fuck you, this is our city” despite the constant danger. He represents the people who come together in times of crisis, who help out their neighbors when each new disaster strikes. He’s trained in martial arts, of course, and he’s a skilled fighter, but Robin’s primary job is always the safety of civilians. He’s the one that gets scared little kids out of a burning building while Batman keeps the villain of the week busy, the one who stays behind with SA victims walks them home because Batman is too much for those things. He uses fear where Robin uses kindness, compassion, and love.

Tim sees this. So, when Robin dies and Batman is getting rougher, more violent, more careless, he notices. He notices that Bruce is picking bigger fights than he can handle, taking hits he could dodge, breaking four ribs instead of two, barely making it back to the manor each night. If he idolized Bruce, at this point, he would trust him the way the rest of Gotham does. He would assume it was a rough patch, and Bruce would recover, and that Batman would always save the day. He would see a solitary hero, the way Batman wants to be seen. He wouldn’t think it necessary to reach out to Dick for help, and even if he did he would think Nightwing would be enough help. He wouldn’t understand the importance of the Robin mantle, the specific role that needs to be filled. Nightwing can represent a lot of things; fluidity, positive change, and freedom come to mind immediately, but there's no world where Nightwing represents Gotham and Hope the same way Robin does. He can’t serve the same purpose anymore, not in that uniform. Bruce would die at Two-Face’s hands in that very first arc, I have not a single doubt in my mind.

Then, as Tim comes back to Gotham post-training and actually starts to help out, it’s common for him to be the conscience. He falls easily into the role of Robin, the role that makes him protector of the innocent. He’s not like Jason, raised by these streets in a very different way, though I wouldn’t say either is better or worse. Where Jason struggled and had to fight, out there each night pre-Bruce out of necessity rather than choice. He knows all the best hiding spots and back-alleys because it kept him alive. He chooses to be Robin because he needed a hero and wants to be that for other people. Tim chose those streets, and he chose them for Robin. He knows the best hiding spots because they put him closer to the action, because he raised himself on all those cold nights alone on rooftops with his camera. He knows the back-alleys because they made him faster, made it so his little kid legs could keep up with his hero so he wouldn’t miss a moment. He lives for Gotham nights, for the thrill of seeing everything, getting to know everything. He chooses to be Robin because where his parents failed to teach him how to be a good person, Robin stepped up. He bases his morals off of watching Robin help people, and because he’s a kid he assumes that it’s normal to behave with altruistic intentions and prioritize others.

There’s a point to be made here, briefly, about how this lends itself to Tim’s self-worth issues and insecurities. If his job is to assist, supplement, guide, and fill in the blanks when Batman fails, he doesn’t have the option of failure. He expects that how he does his job, as long as the job gets done, doesn’t matter because he doesn’t view himself as the hero. He never views himself as a main character in his own story; he truly thinks he’s doing what anyone else in his position would gladly do. This is why he overworks himself, why he’s known for living, for lack of a better term “like a goddamn ninja turtle”. It’s why he’s always Robin or Red Robin or even his public persona Timothy Drake-Wayne but rarely Just Tim. Very few people get to see Just Tim, normal Tim, because if they’re seeing that then he’s not doing his job.

All of these factors lead to Tim’s conclusion that if no one else can get Batman out of this state, least of all Batman himself, of course the next logical conclusion is that it’s his responsibility to step up and do the job. Furthermore, it’s only because he idolized Robin that he can fill the role properly because his relationship to Bruce, especially in the beginning, is nothing like Dick and Jason’s relationships with Bruce. He’s not his kid, doesn’t bring Robin’s joy and hope home, so instead he has to work twice as hard in the field to keep Bruce away from the edge. He’s the first of the Robins to view himself as Batman’s protector rather than the other way around, and he’s the only one who Bruce acknowledges when he tries to fill that role. Bruce accepts it when Tim manages him, reorganizes his files, forces him into the medbay, even when he very occasionally goes as far as to outright scold him rather than just pressure him to make the right choices. He’s given an inch and takes a mile, because he believes (rightfully, in my opinion) that if he doesn't then all hope is lost. And Bruce allows him to help, to guide, as much as he’s willing to because he’s not his kid first. He’s Robin first.

This mentality carries over to the Red Robin arc, where Tim spends an entire year chasing after Bruce to save him. He does it alone, and although he asks for help he doesn’t actually expect it. Furthermore, because his morals are based off of Robin in his infinite altruism rather than Batman with his rigid rules, he doesn’t mind working with Ra’s al Ghul. He doesn’t mind betraying Ra’s by killing his men, by blowing up his bases. He doesn’t tell Bruce about it to protect Bruce from having another murderer under his roof, and because he doesn’t think it matters enough. Bruce isn’t surprised when Tim is the one to save him. I believe he would have been if any other Robin had shown up. He and Dick have had a strained relationship for years, he and Jason aren’t even on speaking terms, Stephanie was so often full of rage at him throughout her run as Robin and is dead at the time, and he doesn’t even really have a relationship with Damian. Aside from all of that, he’s assumed dead. He can’t assume the Justice League will spend their time saving a dead man. And yet, despite all of that, he isn’t surprised when Tim is the one to pull him out of the time stream. He’s disoriented, sure, and a little surprised it was possible for him to be saved at all, and he even wants to hear about how he figured it out, but his doubt is never placed on the fact that Tim would be the one to understand and tear the world apart to bring him home.

I believe this also helps to explain Tim’s struggle with letting go of the Robin mantle, outside of the fact that he was the first to have the choice to move on taken away from him. If he’s always been Robin first, always felt the weight of that on his shoulders, what is he supposed to do when his very identity is stripped away right as he loses everyone who got to really know him as Just Tim? How is he supposed to cope with having to reconstruct his own idea of who he is with no one around to remind him? Humans are social creatures. We learn and grow with and because of each other. He’s encouraged by Dick to grow quickly out of Robin to fill a new role, which is a nice sentiment from Dick’s own point of view, but he’s lacking a sturdy foundation. Not because it’s not actually there, or because he lacks personality or morals, but because he truly views himself and all of his good decisions as just what anybody would do and what Robin is supposed to do. He doesn’t consider that following these morals makes them his, makes them the building blocks for wherever he goes next, he considers them to be traits of a character he no longer plays; a purpose he no longer serves.

(This is the second time I've posted this, so if you see another version that's why!)

[i-cant-stop-fandoming-help]

Bored so. Dra characters and if i think theyd be shit parents or not. (Not including people who are canonically parents)

I will reblog this with the sdra2 characters and what i think theyd be like as parents.

Mitch: he'd be an absent father

Kiyoka: i mean. She'd probably do decently enough. She wouldnt be perfect but she wouldnt be awful, either.

Kizuna: it really depends!! If shes a single mother, i think she'd really struggle with it. Both of her parents were bad, but still in her life, and as a single mother... i think she may unintentionally be bad. BUT!!! If she has a good partner, i think she, like kiyoka, could be a decent mother. I think she'd also definitely need to get some sort of therapy before being a mother, just so she can unlearn things that minako taught her.

Ayame: she'd definitely be a good mother! She'd make sure her child has a good balance between everything. 25/25/25/25 for games, excersize, schoolwork, and anything else. She would care a lot.

Kakeru: probably a good dad. I think he'd adopt kids, maybe teenagers, and try his best to make sure theyre happy as can be.

Kanata: like kakeru, i think she'd be adopting. And i think she'd be a good mom. After the good ando and his wife did for her, by adopting her and raising her with care and love, she'd want to do the same for other children out there.

Kinji: part of me is tempted not to include him because of the orphans.... hes actually their dad now. He was willing to kill to keep them safe so... hes at least decent. At most hes a great parent.

Haruhiko: probably decent. Not the best, not the worst.

Satsuki: i mean... i dunno she feels a bit complicated. She was raised in a large family. Her parents basically saw her as something else to help them profit, as they probably did with all of their kids. Almost all of her siblings saw her as competition instead of family. Keisuke was basically acting as her father, because neither of their parents did a proper job raising her. I think she'd have to realize how wrong all of this was before having her own kids-- only then do i think she'd be better than decent. Also i think it'd be best if she only had 2-3 kids because we are NOT repeating what her mother did. 21 KIDS???? JESUS CHRIST

Yamato: from the sounds of everything, Hanzo did a good job raising him. Because of his strong sense of morality, i think he'd be a good father. Not great, but not just decent, either. I think he'd help his kid with a lot of things, but possibly, unintentionally, make his kid worry about living up to expectations.

Mikako: i think she'd be a very caring mother. Not overprotective or a "they can do no wrong!" mother, but she'd care for her kids as if her life depends on it. I think, if there were ever a possibility of her finding out what kokoro did to her, it'd mess her up a bit and she'd worry more about failing as a mother.

Utsuro: ........would he even be present? I dont know. I dont think he'd even want to be a father.

Akane: its easy to imagine her as a mother, but shes gone through hell and back and she's experienced lots of poor treatment. She didnt really have a mother for a lot of her life, because her mother died when she was still young. She never knew her father. I dont think she really had any good parental figures in her life, other than the possibility of another maid or two caring for her when she was just starting out and when she grew up. But so many people have harmed her that... i think she'd be scared of having a child. I think she wouldn't want to bring a child into the world, knowing they could suffer the same hell she did. Knowing how cruel the world is. So, i dont know if she'd be a good or bad mom. I don't think she'd want kids.

Teruya: kojiro set a good example for him! He'd probably be a good/great dad! Bbbbbut theres a chance his kid could end up being terrified at the idea of being the heir to otorimart.

Tsurugi: SHIT FATHER!!! Maybe in a happier timeline, he would be decent. Maybe if given the time to escape the beliefs that his father placed on him, he would be decent. But if we go by the tsurugi seen in sdra2... i just dont think he'd be a good father at all.

Rei: AMAZING MOTHER. LISTEN TO ME. She's smart. She knows that what she experienced as a child was wrong. She would not want her own child to feel as unloved as she did. She was abandoned and had to fend for herself on the streets while she was still young. She would be hesitant on having a child, but she'd be an amazing mom to any offspring she has. I actually have written a fic with her as a mom! it's uh. for the fankidronpa i'm helping write. Here's the link. (it's going to be released in parts bit by bit as the fankidronpa itself actually releases, to expand on a character more :3)

Keisuke: i said it in satsukis portion, but he practically raised her. She was practically his daughter. (Meaning he likely experienced parentification of some sort which is a topic for another time.) But I think he'd actually do pretty good! At least... that's regarding DRA keisuke. SDRA2 Keisuke would not do as well, probably. He'd be decent, still, but after beginning to follow the same beliefs that Tsurugi follows... I don't know how to explain it, but I think he'd fail a bit in certain areas.

Ryutaro and Midori: Honestly? I don't know, with these two. But... I think they'd have to adopt. If they wanted children at all, I think they'd have no choice but to adopt. Why am i including them together?........ Listen they're the only ship i'm going to include in this post. They're their own people away from the ship, yes, but i think it'd be the same either way. The only difference is that I think ryutaro might not want children, and Midori would be worried about adopting a child at all due to the fear that she could die from any sickness at any random time.

Anyways it's 2:08 AM and I am your locally insane dra fan.

[the1975attheirverybest]

Not so secret Santa

A/N: no plot just vibes

Warnings: none, not proofread I am still without glasses.

———

“It’s not going to snow, Matty.” George muttered, warning him.

Matty simply kept his eyes glued, out the window, on the starry night sky, listening to his friend’s pessimism soundtracked by the crackling of the fireplace, clinking of glassware, and the sound of John and Ross giggling over some YouTube video that one of them was showing the other.

George shook his head in defeat, weary of Matty’s unwarranted hope. He’d gotten Baby Hann to buy into the lie, too. Which is why George felt the need to balance him out. He didn’t want the kid to be disappointed. Matty had painted quite the picture. “Snowflakes so pretty. They look like tiny little stars falling from the sky.” He’d whispered into little Hann’s imagination.

“No chance of snow tonight.” George reiterated.

“You don’t know that.” Matty replied, his eyes still fixed on the window, holding the little boy’s tiny hand in his as he went on describing what snowfall feels like, watching his breath fog up the glass. “You’re not the god of weather.” He shot back at George again.

“I don’t have to be the god of weather to know that it isn’t going to snow. It’s London. The best we’re gonna get is slippery ice. Frozen rain.”

“Thor.” Matty suddenly said, finally pulling his attention away from the window and walking towards the fireplace. “The god of weather?” He explained in response to Ross’s puzzled look.

“Think that’s just for thunder.”

“Right.” Matty nodded. “Well, then, who’s the god of weather?”

“Jupiter in Roman. Zeus if you’re Greek.” He heard her voice from the doorway, his heartbeat rising, a smile creeping on his face, even before his eyes had turned to meet hers. “Jupiter.” He echoed. “Right. Thanks.”

She walked into the room with a bottle of wine, pouring some for everyone who’d raised their glasses in her direction. “Wine?” She offered Matty who gave her an apologetic look, shrugging. “Can’t. Babysitter duty.”

Her eyes lit up as she smiled. She always loved watching Matty interact with Adam and Carly’s son. It felt like Matty saw it as a responsibility to let his guard down and indulge the innocent, child-like side that everyone knew was still alive and well within him. So, the fact that she got to witness this tonight was great news to her.

Adam and Carly were all too happy to affirm that, grateful for the opportunity to be the ones drinking tonight.

Matty’s eyes followed her around the room admiringly as she made the rounds on everyone before settling,next to Charli, on the couch.

He couldn’t help thinking to himself how graceful she looked —like a goddess, her feet barely touching the ground — before he realized that Baby Hann had been trying to say something.

“Oh, yes! That’s right. Fire. No, you can’t touch it, Darling. Daddy said you could? Pretty sure he’d never say that. Sorry, mate….you know what you can do, though? Roast erm marshhh—-mellowsss??” The end of his sentence morphed into a question. He’d realized, mid sentence, that he hadn’t checked with the parents before offering their child heaping amounts of sugar.

Carly mulled it over in her mind. Maybe it was the contented joy of being around everyone in a stress-free environment, or maybe it was the wine she’d been sipping on, that had gotten her to loosen up, but she figured it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if her kid got to have a fun evening with his uncle Matty. Besides, if he got a sugar rush and refused to go to bed on time; he’d be his dear uncle Matty’s problem, not hers. “Sure” she mouthed to Matty to give him the green light.

***

“I’m starting to think that Matty came up with the marshmallow idea to avoid decorating the tree.” Ross observed as he watched Matty poke clouds of fluff onto wooden skewers and carefully place his hand over Baby Hann’s, teach ing him how to keep his fingers at a safe distance from the fire while still giving the marshmallow the “perfect golden color.”

“Oh, no. You mean that Matty is avoiding adult responsibilities and getting us to decorate his home for him while he has fun and eats sweets?” George laughed.

“How shocking.” Adam faked surprise.

“Uhhh- Adam?” They heard Matty from the other end of the room “Could you please come over here for a moment?” He called out.

Carly’s head whipped around. “He better not have given my baby any burns.” She tried to whisper into her husband’s ear, but everyone around the tree heard her. “Matty?! you better not have-“

“It’s nothing. He’s perfectly fine, thanks for the unconditional confidence, by the way.”

Satisfied, and not at all regretful of her doubt, Carly went back to debating the ornament color scheme with John and Polly.

Adam crouched down to be at eye level with his kid and Matty, who were both sitting on the floor by the fire. “What is it, then?”

Matty leaned in, “Erm, well, he wants to know how Santa’s supposed to come through the chimney if we use it to burn things and light fires.”

Adam’s face twitched, threatening to reveal his amusement, but he knew his son’s eyes were watching expectantly for an answer to what he believed to be a pressing issue. “Uhhh….” Adam thought about it for a moment. “Well, you see, Santa only shows up the night before Christmas. And….in the middle of the night. We’ll all be asleep. The fire won’t be on.”

“Ah! Right, cuz kids don’t understand thermodynamics.” Matty nodded along, seemingly as impressed with Hann’s answer as his kid.

Adam placed a sweet kiss to his son’s head before walking away again. He ran a reassuring hand on Carly’s back, letting her know that all is well. They could both hear faint remnants of uncle Matty’s conversation with their child, validating the strangeness of the idea that Santa would manage to deliver everyone’s presents on time if it all happens on one night.

“Love.” Matty stated firmly. “Love, and milk and cookies. That’s his secret.”

***

“No, no, no- I will NOT accept this ranking. It’s completely asinine.” Matty yelled out from the corner of the couch, a little too caught up in the passion of his feelings. “A Charlie Brown Christmas is CLEARLY the superior album.” He leaned forward as the debate between him and Jamie Squire had gotten heated, causing the sleeping child in his lap to stir. “Oh shit. Sorry little lad.” He whispered, Baby Hann none the wiser. “Also-“ speaking softer now, “remove Norah Jones from the conversation entirely. That album is just taking up a spot that could go to someone else.”

“You want to eliminate Norah Jones?” Jamie set down his beer. “Pray tell, what’re you replaying her with?”

“Uhhh- I don’t know. Only Weezer, The Beach Boys, James fuckin Brown….doesn’t Justin Bieber have a Christmas Album?”

“Justin Bieb- I can’t do this anymore. You’ve gone off the deep end. Call me back over once you’ve come back to reality, yeah? This conversation is over.”

Matty’s brows furrowed as he watched Jamie walk away from the seat that he’d only taken to get closer to Matty as they fought this out. Baffled by the sudden termination of the discussion, he moved his arms in the air shapelessly in a desperate attempt to get Jamie’s attention.

“No, Jamie! Come back- I think…I really think we could sort this out. We just need to establish a set of….criteria. Jamie- you coward! If you dare to have an opinion then you must be willing to defend it. I said come the fuck back!”

Matty’s self amused laughter got caught in his throat when he felt a whiff of her perfume. His head followed the scent as instantly as the instinct of a hunting dog. He hadn’t noticed that she was somehow standing right next to him. “Right. I hate to interrupt this….titillating existential debate but…it’s time for secret Santa.”

***

“What’s the matter with your face?” Charli approached Matty in the corner of the room, pointing to the sharp expression in his eyes as he kept glancing over at the other end of the living room.

“Who’d you get for secret Santa?” Matty answered her question with a question of his own. she immediately knew what was wrong.

“Oh! Oh, I see what’s going on here. You’re pouting.”

“I’m not.” He pouted.

“Yes you are. You’re pouting cuz you didn’t end up with a certain someone’s-“

“Hush!!! Are you crazy! She could hear us.” In a panic, matty placed his hand on Charli’s mouth to quiet her.

Charli licked his hand, causing him to retract it in disgust.

She chuckled. “So you admit it! You are pouting. For her.”

Matty rolled his eyes. But Charli was right.

***

“Sorry, babe. I already told you. I’m happy to trade, but only if you’ve got Charli’s name.”

“George-“

“You think I WANT Matty? I’ve been buying him gifts our entire lives. Charli’s about to be my wife. I want us to start this off with a tradition. I’d be happy to give Matty away. But only if you’ve got Charli what’d be the point in trading for someone else?”

“Well- I- don’t.” She glanced up at George and understood the look in his eyes. “But….i suppose - if I were to acquire Charli’s name….then we could make an exchange?”

George smiled, nodding subtly.

“Fuck. Fine. Stay right where you are. I’ll…go see what I can do.”

***

“Go on, ask him.” Charli nudged matty encouragingly. “Trust me, John already knows you’ve been harboring this secret crush. We all do.”

Matty’s eyes shot wide open, his ears turning red. “All of you?”

“Well, all of us except for her. She likes you too, you know.”

Matty felt his heartbeat in his ears, stuttering and tripping over his words “shut- uppp…sh-she does…NOT.”

Charli rolled her eyes. “God the two of you are clueless. It’s kinda cute actually. It’s like school children.”

She glanced at Matty’s face and pitied him for his anguish. “You’re like a lost puppy. Can’t help but rescue you. Cmon. I’ll help.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

***

“Okay, so, George has Matty, but he wants Charli. Charli is with Polly who will trade me if I can get her Ross. Ross is with Carly. Carly is happy to give him away in exchange for Adam...” I’m a fit of desperation. She tore up the napkin on which she’d been sketching out her network of secret Santas. Groaning and banging her head against the wall.

“Ouch, don’t do that.” She heard Vee, Ross’s partner, tap her shoulder from behind. “You look like you could use a drink. And some help maybe?”

***

“Okay, what’s the plan now?” Matty sipped his drink, glancing at Charli helplessly while she scanned the room and hatched out a plan of action.

“It shouldn’t be that difficult if we split up and double our efforts. You take Jamie and other Jamie. I’ll take Adam and Gabi….”

“And we meet back at John to make the trade.”

“Exactly.” They exchanged hopeful glance before branching off to put the plan into action.

On the other side of the room, George smiled thankfully at her.

“You got me Charli! Thank you!”

“Now hand over Matty’s name.”

“Fuckin gladly.” George presented her with her prized piece of paper, watching her burst with glee.

“You know what you’re gonna get him?”

A mischievous smile appeared on her lips. “I’ve got some ideas.”

George squeezed her shoulder. “Well, let me know if you need my help.”

***

Charli rush across the room to George as the dinner table was being set. “You won’t believe what just happened. I’ve got something to tell you.”

As Charli spoke, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Vee and Ross approaching, both giddy with knowing smiles.

“So,” Vee joined George and Charli’s secret corner, Ross right behind her. “You’re saying matty has her name? — sorry, wasn’t eavesdropping, you guys just look suspicious — well, guess whose name I just help her acquire?”

George burst out into laughter, earning judgmental stares from his group. “Do you think they’ll finally tell each other before the end of the year?”

“They’re so dumb.” Charli observed.

“We should do something.” Vee added, “you know, to help them along.”

Ross mused “what if we….just….added a love note. To each of their gifts?”

[specialagentlokitty]

Daryl x reader - take on the world together

Part 6:

Following Daryl up to the watch tower, you sat down inside while he stood by the door leading to the platform.

“The boy?” He asked.

“Human if that’s what you’re wondering, it’s why I cover him in my jacket when we’re out, and keep him close.”

Daryl nodded.

“How did you really come across him?”

“I was looking for something to eat, it was the second week of the outbreak, I was in a small town looking for sick or injured stragglers left behind, the town had already been overrun by walkers.”

You sighed, and you pulled your knees into your chest, wrapping your arms around then.

“I couldn’t find anything, so I was getting ready to leave and I walked past this house, I heard crying coming from inside, so I walked inside. I walked to the basement door, two walkers were there, looking like they’d tried to get it over with before they were bitten, and they failed, turned anyways.”

Daryl glanced at you before looking out past the prison.

“I crushed their skulls, and I broke open the door, and downstairs was the little boy, huddled in the corner crying his eyes out, he’d hurt his leg trying to reach a window to climb out of. I’d never been one for humanity, but I couldn’t leave him there like that, so I brought him with me.”

You sighed.

“Turns out the walkers I killed was his parents, they wanted this little boy to survive on his own, they left him all alone. I wasn’t going to do that, so I packed a bag with food, and some of his stuff, took a couple of hunting knives and got the hell out of dodge.”

“How’d you know the walkers didn’t like you?”

“Well, you got all these dead things eating living things but none of them coming after me? That’s pretty concrete evidence you know?”

He scoffed, shaking his head.

“Why did the wounds close so quick?”

“Small wounds heal in seconds, larger ones would be minutes but without a good died I’d be looking at weeks, months even. As long as it doesn’t destroy my heart or brain I’ll always heal.”

He slowly nodded his head, sitting down in the doorway.

“What do you eat?”

“Same thing you guys do.”

He glared at you and you raised your hands.

“I’m telling the truth, I can eat anything you can providing I balance my diet. In order to be up to full strength, I need blood. We survive on human blood, but that doesn’t mean we need to kill in order to do it.”

“We? There’s more? Blood? You survive on fuckin’ blood and you expect me to just keep you around? Is that why you travel with the kid? A snack for later?!” He hissed.

You slammed your hand into the metal wall beside you, making it creek as you put a sizeable dent into it.

“Say that again I’ll take your heart out your chest…”

Daryl stared at you.

He just wanted to make sure everybody was going to be safe with you around, that spencer was safe around you.

Clearly you didn’t want to hurt Spencer, but he couldn’t be so sure about anybody else.

“I’m not going to feed on anybody, you guys have it tough as it is without being hunted down by more creatures. I go out, I find small wildlife, maybe a deer if there is one and I feed on them.”

“Why not feed in walkers, plenty of them running around.”

You scoffed a little shaking your head.

“I tried. I’d much rather drink a whole bottle of holy water than do that again, they taste like shit, like, you ever eaten rotten food? It’s basically the same. I’d have to eat before they turn, cause once they turn the disease or whatever it is destroys everything inside.”

Daryl thought about his next question for a moment.

“Can you tell if someone’s infected?”

You nodded.

“All humans are, I don’t know what it is, but since the outbreak the smell of human changed ever so slightly. No matter how you die, if the brain isn’t destroyed you come back, illness, a wound, bitten.”

You went quiet for a moment.

“I can tell if people are infected, sick with a cold or something, same with animals, can tell if they’re sick.”

“The fuck are you?”

“The original walking undead, vampire. Got no heartbeat, no blood pumping inside me, no body temperature, as cold as a corpse, don’t succumb to human illness, or wounds, or age, better senses, speed, strength. Whatever a human would need to survive this shit, I have.”

He slowly nodded, and he grabbed one of his arrows, stabbing you in the shoulder and you grabbed hold of his wrist.

You bared your fangs at him, red eyes meeting his.

He pulled the arrow out and you raised your hand to your shoulder, pulling it back to look at the blood.

“Then why’re you bleedin’?”

You placed your hand over your shoulder, feeling it already starting to heal.

“Still got blood dumbass, still falls out when I get stabbed. My body still holds blood, any I uh.. let’s just say drink, it gets absorbed into my own body, becoming my own meaning I’ll still have blood, it’s what helps me heal.”

You moved your hand from your shoulder, looking at your blood before you looked back at him, red eyes boring into his own.

You pushed yourself up, squinting a little as sun got in your eyes and you stepped back into the shade.

“The fuck is your problem now?”

“These eyes, the sunlight, they don’t really mix all that well. But you stabbed me, so I don’t really feel like relaxing.”

“Shit, if I wanted to kill you I woulda already dumbass.”

You shrugged a little, crouching down and resting your arms on your knees as you looked at him.

He never dared to turn his back on you, he wasn’t stupid, so, he kept his back on the doorframe.

You kept away from him, not wanting to risk your own life because one wrong move would be all it takes for him to kill you no hesitation.

You saw his gaze fixed outside and you placed your hands on your knees, pushing yourself up.

“What is it?” You asked.

“They’re pushing the fence again.”

Daryl stepped outside and you followed him, hand just above you eyes as you scanned over the walkers.

“You got another trick for this shit?”

You walked around, checking the other fences.

“It’s the smell, all these humans in one area, warm bodies, still alive, that’s what’s bringing them here. You could leave a walkers along the fence, dead ones but that would bring a smell.”

You ran a hand through your hair, and you glanced at him.

“I might be able to scatter some of my own blood, but with that many of you guys in there I just don’t think it’ll work all that ways. I can put some on a few trees.”

“The fuckin’ good is that gonna do?”

“Confused some hopefully, any that come straggling will smell me first, think it’s me and hopefully stay away. I need to know what time the guard changes though, I can go out, but only when I know it’s safe to come and go.”

“You think that’s gonna make me trust you dead ass?”

You shook your head.

“No, but Spencer is here. He’s happy, I want him to be safe. He asked me to help, I’ll help.”

“If he asked you to kill us?”

“If he had a good reason to, then I would kill you without hesitation. I will kill anybody who dares to put him in harms way, don’t mistake this for kindness Daryl, it’s not safe anywhere, he needs food, he needs water, he needs a shelter. That’s all.”

“You really takin’ orders for a kid?” He scoffed.

You said nothing and he shrugged a little bit.

“Fine, do it. I’m on watch tonight.”

You nodded, and you quickly left the watch tower, jogging back up the path to the courtyard.

Jogging up to the gate, you waited for it to open and you looked around.

“He’s inside with my dad.”

You nodded at Carl and made your way inside.

Walking into the cell block, you tried to find the man, and you looked up to the second floor to see him walking out of your cell with Spencer in his arms.

You took the stairs two at a time, and you stopped in front of him.

“He went to sleep, I think he had a nightmare or something he won’t say.”

“Spence?” You asked softly.

You placed your hand on his shoulder, and he spun around, tears on his face.

“Hey buddy, what’s with the tears?”

“You’re okay!”

He flung himself into your arms and you laughed softly, holding him closely, running a hand up and down his back.

“Of course I’m okay, nothings gonna happen to me, alright?”

He sniffled a little bit and nodded his head, and you smiled a little at Rick.

“Thank you…”

He placed a hand on your shoulder, moving past you.

For the rest of the day Spencer stuck closely to your side, and you waited for him to fall asleep before leaving the cell.

Jumping over the gate, you made your way to the bottom of the watch tower where Daryl was waiting for you.

I’ll take out as many as I can while I’m out there, but I’ll focus on creating a diversion.”

He nodded his head, handing you your knife.

“Show me how you get in and out.”

You nodded, gesturing for him to follow you, the pair of you jogging down the path to where two fences meet.

Putting the knife in your belt, you climbed part way up the fence, then you jumped to the next one, jumping over the barbed wire and you landed on your feet.

“Well shit…” he whispered.

“Would be easier if I could break the wire but security and all that, go back to the tower, I’ll come up when I’m done.”

“One wrong move.” He warned.

“Yeah yeah you’ll kill me good and proper.”

“Damn straight.”

You turned around to begin your work.

With the cover of darkness you had the ability to used your full speed, strength, whatever you could in order to get everything done.

You killed walkers, disposed the bodies as far as you could, scattering your blood along street and the top of some of the fences so they couldn’t see it.

You did some hunting, killing a few small animals so you could eat to regain some of the energy you were using.

You also found some scrap metal and brought it over, using it to fill some of the gaps in the fences, crushing them together.

When you were finished you jumped back over the fence, running to the watchtower before climbing up.

Daryl was stood at the top waiting for you.

“I’ve done what I can for now, and covered a few small gaps in the fence.”

He nodded his head.

“They’re going to ask about it.”

“Not my issue, it’s safe, all I care about. What did you see out there?”

“Not much, a few walkers, couple of animals, too many trees to be able to see properly and I was too busy with other shit.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You walked over to the outside of the watchtower, slowly looking around.

For a human it was dark, and they wouldn’t be able to see much but you could see a lot more, you could see a few walkers wondering away, some a little curious but not wanting to come to close.

“It seems to be working.”

“Looks like it, guess you earned your keep for a while.”

You both went quiet for a few minutes, despite your efforts a few walkers could still smell the others inside.

“I don’t think it’s going to last for long, I’ll have to keep going out every few nights to kill them.”

“Don’t know why you’re telling me.”

“You’re the only one that knows, I want to keep it that way, I’ll need to match my time outside with your watches.”

“Oh hell nah, not a fuckin’ chance.”

You turned around.

“Daryl remember our deal, anybody else finds out I’m gone, you’re on your own. I can get to places you can’t, move faster, and move among the walkers. You. Need. Me.”

He grabbed you by the shirt, holding you over the edge of the tower, your cold hand gripped his wrist.

“We don’t need shit from a bitch like you…” he snarled.

“I could easily throw you off this building and to them walkers… nobody would ever find your body…”

“They’ll throw you and the boy out…”

You sneered, loosening your grip on his wrist and you help up your hands.

“Doesn’t change the fact I need to work on your watches…”

Daryl turned you around and threw you inside the tower.

“Fine, I don’t give a shit. Just get the fuck away from me.”

“No problem jackass.”

You left the tower, slowly making your way back towards the cell block, trying to contain your anger

[haveihitanerve]

The League would admit they knew very little about Batman. They didn't know his age, his identity, hell they didn't even know his favorite food. But they did, however, know he had kids. How many was still unclear, but the Bat had used the plural form while comforting a civilian once, so thats what they based it off of. And while he was certainly tight lipped about many things, talking about his kids, or bragging really, wasn't one of them. "Bats really loves his kids huh?" Barry murmured to Hal as they watched Batman inform Wonder Woman about one of his children. "I mean they're babies, wait till they hit the angsty teens and I'm sure we'll be hearing the opposite." Hal muttered back. Barry snorted. "maybe if he's raising you. If his kids are anything like me he'll keep talking like this." Hal couldn't hold back a laugh at that. "Batman." Superman entered the room. Hal and Barry looked over at him in interest, and Batman stopped talking, turning to face him. "yes?" "You have a visitor." The alien said, and Hal could see his lips twitch, though he tried to hide it. Batman's eyes narrowed. "Who?" "Why me of course!" Twittered a voice and a black and blue blur cartwheeled into the room, landing confidently with hands on his hips long enough for them to take in his wide easy smile and his dark black hair before he was moving again, slamming into Batman with the force of a freight train. Batman didn't even twitch, didn't even take one step back to balance himself, just grunted lightly as the man wrapped himself around him like an affectionate leech. "Did you miss me?" The newcomer murmured, face pressed into Batman's chest. Batman grunted, which must have been the right sound to make because the man lit up, pressing a kiss to Batman's cheek. "aww i knew you did." Batman grunted again and the man unfurled himself from his side, landing on his feet instead. "Um, uh, hey there. Batsy, who is this?" Hal stuttered out. Batman glanced over at them, opening his mouth to respond, but the newcomer beat him to it. "I'm Nightwing! It's a pleasure to meet you." "nice to meet you too." Barry smiled, almost as enthusiastic, shaking his hand. "Why are you here?" Batman asked bluntly, but Nightwing didn't seem at all perturbed by his less than friendly question. "Well uh, Little Wing locked himself in his room and try as we might we can't get him out, you know he hasn't slept." Batman sighed. "Alright. I'll be home just as soon as I finish today okay? Try to feed him at least." Nightwing nodded. "Will do." "Wait- hang on, sorry." Hal interrupted. "You- you'll be home? Who- are you his-?" Nightwing's entire body spasmed with delight. "You mean B hasn't told you about me?" he gasped in outrage, spinning to look at the other man. Batman raised an eyebrow. "I did. Hal, Barry, this is Nightwing. My son." If Hal's jaw could have dislocated from his body it would have been back on Earth. "THIS?" Barry sputtered. They looked at each other. "That- that is a grown ass adult!" Hal exclaimed. Nightwing looked at him in amusement. "has dear old dad been giving you the wrong impression?" He asked. "You are not a precious little thing! You are not a baby!" Barry half cried. "You could snap me half!" "Like a twig." Wonder Woman agreed. "I won't." Nightwing assured him, far too confident and unbothered. "But you could." Hal stressed. Nightwing laughed. "Perhaps. I am Bat-trained after all." He winked backwards at his father. "anyway, I gotta get back. It was nice meeting you." And just as fast as he had come he was gone again, a blur of black and blue. Hal and Barry stared at Batman.

It was about a week later, when they had still not recovered from the shock of Nightwing being Batman's son, when they ran into Red Hood. The Red Hood. Leather jacket, signature red hood, multitudes of guns strapped to his body. Hal readied his ring. But the man just draped himself across Batman's with all the confidence in the world, releasing a sigh. "The brat broke into my safe house again." He whined, voice pitched surprisingly high for a man with his size and stature. "to steal my dog." Hal almost dropped his ring. And Batman, Batman, Mr. I hate guns and won't use them and they're bad, just looked at him, a soft smile on his face even as Red Hood waved at least two guns around his nose, and said calmly. "He just wants to spend time with his big brother. Maybe take him to the zoo next time." Barry was looking between them in confusion. "It can't be." He muttered. Superman coughed into his fist. "It is." He confirmed. "H-how?" Hal whimpered. "That is also not a baby! He's almost bigger than Bats! He could break Bats in half!" Superman chuckled. "But he won't." "But he could!" Both Hal and Barry half shouted. Batman and Red Hood glanced over. "Alright Old man I gotta go." "Alright. Drive safe kiddo." Red Hood rolled his eyes. "Its Gotham." Batman leveled him with a look and the Red Hood, the Red Hood, crime lord and gang boss, raised his hands in surrender, sticking his guns in his pockets. "Yeah alright whatever. See you at home." Hal was gaping like a fish.

"Did you have a good weekend Batman?" Superman asked, leaning against the Bats desk with a cup of coffee in his hands. Batman nodded, smiling faintly. "yeah. My babies went for a walk in the park yesterday. Red brought the dog. It was good." Hal and Barry collapsed and had a mental breakdown.

A year later, when they finally met Robin, the one who was, in fact, a child, they only had a moment of relief before the kid pulled out a katana. Batman smiled.

Love the slight AUs where Bruce as Batman has been a member of the league for ages, but he's somehow managed to keep his assortment of children under the radar.

Because it sets up the wildest misunderstandings within the league. He routinely talks about his babies, his children who are all so sweet and kind and occasionally assholes yes but only because they are young (and traumatized) hell I don't think the league would even be aware that they're adopted. So they're all thinking literal children

Barry: Bats really loves his kids.

Hal: I mean they're babies, wait till they hit the angsty teens and I'm sure we'll be hearing the opposite

Which means the day they finally meet Nightwing they don't know wtf to think. For one thing, how old would he have been when he had this kid???? Should they be worried about that???? And for the other, that is not a baby, that is not a precious little thing.

He could break someone in half. Like a twig.

He won't, but he could. And they can see that. (He's bat trained, they have seen what the bat can do they are not fools)

And they're like, okay. Okay maybe he isn't the baby (he is). He's got younger kids right? He's never said how many, they have 0 clues. They've been expecting 1 child, maybe 2 because he'd said kid in the plural exactly once when comforting an older woman while they were searching for her children in the aftermath of a rough battle.

And then a week later they run into Red Hood. In his leather, with his guns. And he drapes himself across Batmans back with all the self confidence in the world and starts whining about the "Brat" breaking into his safe house.

To steal his dog.

And yet again. He is not baby. He is bigger than Batman. He could probably break Batman in half given the bat didn't put up a fight. But Batman looks at him with probably the softest expression they've ever seen on that mans face and tells him very earnestly that the kid just wants to spend time with his older brother, next time they should try a walk. Maybe go to the zoo.

But probably not one of the babies. They're kind, and gentle, and at least one just loves reading and Bats has been trying to encourage that!!!

And then a day later he mentions his "babies" going for a walk in the park and they all instantaneously lose their minds at the confirmation.

[ravenspeakrp]

Welcome to Raven’s Peak, Caiti, we’re excited to have you! Artemis "Art" Lee Tyler (Naomi Scott, hunter) has been accepted. Please be sure to stop by the CHECKLIST for the follow list, tags to track, and other reminders.

OUT OF CHARACTER

NAME: Caiti PRONOUNS: she/her AGE: 35+ TIMEZONE: CST

IN CHARACTER

FULL NAME: Artemis Lee Tyler “Art” SPECIES: Hunter (in rebellion) AGE: 25 DATE OF BIRTH: May 6th GENDER IDENTITY: Female NEIGHBORHOOD: Downtown OCCUPATION: Barista WORKPLACE: Witches Brew POSITIVE TRAITS: Adaptive, perceptive, independent NEGATIVE TRAITS: Stubborn, evasive, insecure LENGTH OF TIME IN RAVEN’S PEAK: 10 years FACE CLAIM: Naomi Scott

BIOGRAPHY

TRIGGER WARNING: violence, death (including kids)

Once upon a time . . .

Isn’t that how all the fairy tales start? But maybe Art’s story isn’t a fairy tale . . . even if it includes things that most of the human world thinks belong in the pages of a book. Artemis Lee Tyler grew up knowing about the supernatural. She’d been raised in a hunter family with all of the pride and honor and bullshit that went along with it. By the time she was 13, she could name any number of ways to kill or immobilize various forms of supernatural creatures, and she’d never had a reason to question her place in the world.

After all, hunters were protectors, weren’t they? They protected the innocent, didn’t they?

Everything fell into place for Artemis – this daughter of hunters named for the goddess of the hunt. Yeah, learning the family business could be tough, and she learned how to handle pain, but she loved being involved in such important work. She got to go on a couple of small hunts – a vampire and a werewolf.

It all seemed to be perfect.

Her family moved to Raven’s Peak when she was 15 and she met a group at school who became a second family for her. For once, she got to enjoy something outside of the hunt. They encouraged her in her music and helped her find her own passions. Artemis learned to express herself in dress and bearing, not just worrying about the most efficient way to hunt or blend in. They ended up starting a band, and all of them dreamed of striking it big and making a name for themselves.

Still, she wanted to please her family as well.

So, she fought to find a balance between her two lives.

Then came her third hunt.

She finally got to go on a big hunt, when her family found a coven of witches planning a meeting. They intended to bag the entire group, coordinating with a couple of other hunting families in order to bring them down. Artemis looked forward to being part of this big event . . . until she saw the children. Little kids . . . Some of them looked too young to even be in school! It wasn’t a meeting of evil creatures planning to attack innocent humans . . . it was a family reunion to celebrate the summer solstice.

That night would haunt her nightmares forever.

Sometimes she still woke up covered in sweat with the screams of those babies ringing in her ears.

It changed everything – and Artemis began to pull away from her family, refusing to go on hunts and stopping her training. She rebelled against everything to do with the hunter’s lifestyle. It meant two long years of punishments and guilt trips until she finally reached the age of 18. She moved out and became effectively homeless, sleeping wherever she could find space – usually on a couch or floor at a friend’s house until their parents got nosy. Then she’d move to the next couch.

Though it also meant a time or two sleeping in the park or on the street. Not really safe, but a girl did what a girl had to do.

Now, she works as a barista at the Witches’ Brew, ignoring the disappointed looks of her family and fellow hunters. She hides the hunter’s mark on her clavicle and does her best to keep up with her bills as she spends her spare time with the band.

EXTRAS

FILLING CONNECTION: yes - Bank’s band mate

[astrolovecosmos]

Imum Coeli and Midheaven: Inner and Outer World

The Imum Coeli (IC) is the sign at the beginning of your 4th House, the Midheaven (MC) will always be the exact opposite of that sign at the beginning of the 10th House. The IC is the inner self, roots, past, upbringing, private self. The MC is your most outer self, reputation, ambition, career. The IC/MC sit on an axis and always have a relationship to each other. 

Libra IC - Aries MC: We see a struggle for expressing identity or needs when among family, growing up, and within their inner self. The Aries MC finds freedom in the outer world, maybe in the professional world by standing alone and being an individual. The Aries MC can seem aggressive, confident, competitive, or in charge when in the outer world of school, work, organizations, or larger or more shallow social events. But at home, in their closest relationships, in their private life they are used to cooperation, adapting to others, tries hard to keep the peace or harmony, and may be a people pleaser or lack discipline. There can be a complicated relationship with attention and admiration. In their private life they seem to be praised the most for obedience, compromise, and light charm. But they can find empowerment and a rush in being praised or admired for rebellion, conflict, speaking up, and passion. In the outer world they may stir up drama just for the attention or to feel liberated. At their best they embrace their more level-headed, calm inner self as someone valid, precious, and important but when in the outer world finds ways to get in touch with the warrior side of them. The MC learns to stand up for themselves and fight but must tap into the IC to do this without giving into pettiness, immaturity, or malice. 

Scorpio IC - Taurus MC: The Scorpio IC can be very secretive about their inner self. In fact hiding the self and feelings from family due to fear that they may seem too intense or sensitive is associated. They were likely a willful child or willful within their most inner self. This will can be contained by the Taurus MC’s calmness or practicality but ultimately their determination and strength will always be with them. For Taurus MC “determination” is their main keyword. To protect the more vulnerable and hurt side of their IC they can adopt an unmoving, stubborn, logical, and level-headed persona that the outer world can’t shake or pierce. This person is highly security conscious. The Scorpio IC feels safe by hiding their emotions and intensions. The Taurus MC feels safe through physical resources, wealth, and possessions. The Taurus MC might also feel safe by being in control and relying on their own predictableness and steadiness. The depth, mystery, and power within the inner self is not muted by the Taurus MC, but is underestimated and buried. There can be a great balance here between the rationality of the MC and the emotional, intuitive, and fierce IC. However they need to be careful not to let their fear of betrayal or fear of lack of control to get in the way. They contain and shelter a lot of potency from the outside world, sometimes they have a need to let that out! 

Sagittarius IC - Gemini MC: The Sagittarius IC has a need to be free. Maybe that is free from controlling parents, a religion, old traditions, or even from a mindset they are used to from an early age. Through a Gemini MC they’ve developed an outer self that is persuasive and charming - charming enough to help raise them to the top and out of whatever traps them. The Sagittarius IC can also indicate someone who moved around a lot or was exposed to many different ideals and people when young. There is a flexibility and versatile nature to their youth and programming. This carries with them into an MC that is highly curious, adaptable, and finds it hard to be satisfied with just one hobby, career, or subject. The association with passion, a zealous nature, and impulsiveness exists here. This could mean being an impulsive and energetic kid or this could mean growing up in an environment that was highly charged, fiery, and volatile. While there can be inner passion or being familiar with passion, their MC presents a much more cool headed, logical persona. With intellectual pursuits this person can find an escape from raging emotions and impulses. Sagittarius is connected to cons, exaggerations, broken promises, and false beliefs. This may manifest as feeling disillusioned by what one is taught as a child. They may feel tricked by family at some point. Or tricky behavior or a grandiose, over excitable nature has been engraved in them. In the more detached, always changing MC they can either still practice this more reckless behavior or let it all go with an outlook that wants to observe, study, and connect with others, even if those connections can sometimes be more surface level. They have a thirst for knowledge that is natural to both the inner and outer self. The Gemini MC has an open mind that can help fulfill the needs of the Sagittarius IC. 

Capricorn IC - Cancer MC: The Capricorn IC is well known for having a burdened or restricted childhood. There is an emphasis on growing up fast, taking on too much responsibility, strictness, being pressured and criticized, or being taught to repress emotions. The Cancer MC desires connection to the outside world, while emotions are hard to express they learn how to be good at making others feel comfortable, at appearing trustworthy, and sometimes they may learn how to reach out to create their own family via friends and coworkers. They have a personable touch in their approach to the professional or outside realm. This may seem very contrast to who they are privately, a much more colder, controlling, and restrained individual. There can be a desire to protect and take care of others. Capricorn is a fellow provider and protector however the need to take care of others, even nurture them could come from a desire to express feeling and affection. They are more comfortable expressing love or admiration through actions vs. words. However due to a desire to connect deeply with others they can easily get used and burned. Both Cancer and Capricorn are guarded individuals, and they learn fast to be skeptical and perceptive however it is hard for them to refuse a friend or coworker who asks for help or comfort. They can be deeply sympathetic. The outside world can see an approachable and understanding person but when you get close there is a heaviness or melancholy about them. They put on a very different warm and inviting face to the public. It is very important for them to get in touch with their inner child! A journey to learning how to express their emotions will likely be a long one, but it is such an important adventure when it comes to finding fulfillment. The Cancer MC is a way for them to find that closeness they crave, but they need to be careful of making bonds too quickly and being taken advantage of. Their inner self desires stability and safety to express their true feelings and self, the outer self craves closeness, softness, and to feel like they help or care for others. Many times the outer self tries to find closeness through careers that involve taking care of others or by quickly adapting and joining groups of friends/people. 

Aquarius IC - Leo MC: The IC of the “outsider” is the stereotypical interpretation for the Aquarius IC. Another common association is feeling detached or being estranged from family. Growing up in an environment that pushed for independence, conformity, and aloofness is associated. Growing up with influences that promote a strong sense of individuality can manifest too. The Leo MC desires esteem, recognition, and maybe fame. The Leo MC wants to stand out and be admired. An Aquarius IC who felt left out or alienated when young may learn how to be flashy, loud, attention-grabbing, and unique to feel more loved and accepted. They may use confidence or show off their intelligence and talents to gain admiration. Aquarius and Leo are both original and individualistic people, there is a drive to stand out and be genuine for the sake of living their best life. To the outside world they try to gain a sense of belonging, warmth, and passion through a fiery and sometimes selfish approach. The Leo MC can strive for luxury, class, influence, power, and praise - this can be sought after in many different ways. As a child or young person they could have had a side to them that was very altruistic, but through life’s trials they may have found more strength or empowerment by focusing on the self. There is positivity in both - the Aquarian nature to be driven by humanitarian pursuits and Leo’s self-love. They need to balance these parts of themselves. The outer self craves recognition for talents that may have been ignored or criticized when younger. The outer self may crave excitement and zeal the younger self was never allowed to explore and experience. They need to be careful of falling into egotistical behavior, arrogance, or chasing after fool’s gold. Confidence can also be a complex subject. Some play into a false, larger than life confidence to hide their fears while others grapple with a desire for real confidence but tend to fall back into the background. There is comfort in observing others rather than being in the limelight, this comes from the cool, airy IC. The charisma and ambition of their MC will take them far, the quirkiness, playfulness, self-reliance, and inner wisdom from the IC still needs to be respected. 

Pisces IC - Virgo MC: This person has a very sensitive, fragile, intuitive, and imaginative inner self. When younger there can be a lack of boundaries, a lot of uncertainty, vagueness or confusion, manipulation, illusions,  sheltering and over protection, or even spiritual or psychic attacks. To have a sense of boundary and stability they may grow to have a very cautious, maybe rigid, maybe prudent, skeptical, shy or reserved, and logical outer self. The Pisces IC inner child is fluid, indulges in fantasy, can be dreamy or whimsical, is kind, and giving. The Virgo MC locks this away with criticalness and maybe even harshness. This person can be prone to beating themselves up, especially with their interactions and performance in the outer world. The Virgo MC strives for perfection, always seeks to improve, likes to be seen as useful, smart, and put together. It is very important that the Virgo MC is appreciated for their help or talents and is seen as capable. The Pisces IC can indicate a person who is seen as “soft” or overly sensitive by family or close loved ones. There may be an urge to prove ones self or to seem like they don’t need help because of this. Pisces has a desire to heal and Virgo to serve, this person can feel pulled to help others. However Virgo’s over practicality can stunt the caring side or creative side of their IC. The Virgo MC’s desire or knack for helping other people can lead them to fulfilling careers but there can be a part of them that is too focused on trying to be flawless to really dive into their best path. The Virgo MC’s reliability, attention to detail, and realism can help protect them from being used and helps them set up boundaries. The Pisces IC has a gentler inner voice that they need to be careful not to ignore. 

Aries IC - Libra MC: Anger, identity, and independence are focuses in childhood or earlier years. Aries IC can be taught and raised in a hostile environment, an environment that promoted conflict, competition, anger, and aggression. They may have been raised with a lack of closeness and nurturing, promoting independence and separation. The Aries IC may be used to fighting. They had to develop thick skin as well as a defensive ego. The Libra MC gives them a chance to find peace and detachment. Due to a harsher environment growing up the Libra MC can have a huge need to be liked. They could have felt like they were always criticized and battled against when younger, in the outer world they present a calmer, charminger, and pleasing persona. With all that “battling” they may have learned or adapted to mediate. Both Libra and Aries tend to be social, dynamic, and sit on a contrast of self-awareness. Aries has a focus on self-love, identity, setting boundaries, and going after their wants and needs. Libra many times has been pinned with being the least self-aware sign. Libra can be associated with shallowness, detachment, and wanting to hide away from pressure, intensity, darkness, or flaws, especially the flaws and conflict within the self. Allowing their individuality to shine and to find inner peace among their internal conflicts is important. While the Libra IC - Aries MC is about fighting to express identity, the Aries IC - Libra MC is about finding peace and love for the self and identity. 

Taurus IC - Scorpio MC: Routine, stability, and security are important to the Taurus IC. This person may have grown up with a lot of structure and stability or a very chaotic environment that made them crave dependability and solidness. Early on they developed into a more pragmatic and reliable person, either by being raised this way or out of necessity. Taurus desires unchangeability and assurance, Scorpio can desire control and power. This person may learn that the best way to stay in control of their world is through intuition, intensity, and manipulation. The Scorpio MC allows them to follow their passion and gives them curiosity about the unknown, it can be a pathway from breaking free from their fear of instability and change. But this person will always struggle with letting go of control. The inner self can find peace and stability within them, but the Scorpio MC can be hypnotized and tempted by the idea of just letting their emotions go wild. They can also have a side to them that feels power hungry once they realize all they are capable of. The Scorpio MC tends to be attracted to all types of careers and they are known for a reputation that makes a mark on others. This placement reminds me of a timid child or overly practical person who tries something dangerous or crazy once and then it changes them forever. While following their passions and intuition can be freeing, they will always need to battle a need for inner security, overcome unhealthy dependency or attachments, and learn that they can’t worry about things outside of their control. 

Gemini IC - Sagittarius MC: The Gemini IC is known for struggling to have their voice heard as a child. Communication and learning are key so this can also mean struggling in school/education, a lack of knowledge and encouragement from family members, or it can also mean growing up in a household that was highly communicative and/or focused on education. Both Sagittarius and Gemini are curious and are eternal students. Their curiosity stays with them even throughout adulthood. The Gemini IC can be used to a highly changeable environment, their Sagittarius MC can help feel more focused and at ease by always looking towards the future. But the Sagittarius MC still tends to be impulsive, maybe reckless, and scattered when trying to pick a career, go after a goal, and finish a project. Learning to work with their flexibility and taking advantage of their energetic nature is important. The Gemini IC can feel ignored as a child. The Sagittarius MC can be loud, opinionated, snappy, and passionate - this allows them to gain the attention they need and to be heard. In the outer world the Sagittarius MC is heated and goes off instinct, in the inner world the Gemini IC is more detached, is driven by logic and intellect, is airy, maybe playful or whimsical, always willing to learn, share, and listen. They may act like the student at home and teacher in the professional/external world. Sagittarius and Gemini are associated with both “student” and “teacher” archetypes. Knowledge is power to this person but what matters most to them is finding those who are willing to listen to them. The inner self craves someone who is open to hearing their thoughts, dreams, needs, and gossip or stories. The outer self, what their reputation is based off of desires to be the person others get advice from, get knowledge from, and are inspired by. 

Cancer IC - Capricorn MC: The Cancer IC comes from a sensitive place much like the other water ICs. They could have grown up in a highly close and attached family, a family that was overprotective, being very close to their mother, was raised where family loyalty was everything (maybe taught that they had to be loyal to family, even if their family wasn’t the healthies/treated them right), could have been coddled, and abandonment or lack of nurturing is also associated. The Cancer IC marks an inner self that is very soft, nurturing, caring, affectionate, and vulnerable. But the crab always hides behind a touch exterior. Even as a child while they may have been hurt easily they learned quickly to hide tears. Their closest loved ones likely see them as a nurturer, caregiver, protector, or healer. The Capricorn MC is highly ambitious! They tend to present a self-controlled, disciplined, no nonsense, and authoritative outer self. This person may have felt too sheltered, undermined, or taught that their softness wasn’t valuable and learned how to interact with the outer world through a hard and commanding approach. The Capricorn MC is calculated, logical, and their hunger for material and social success can be great. While the Capricorn MC can be helpful in gaining boundaries and inner authority - there is always a quest for more and the subject of self worth can be tricky. The Cancer IC is about caring and it could be they were forced to take care of themselves and others at a young age, hurling them into adulthood early and towards a colder form of independence. But both Capricorn and Cancer have a desire to attach and depend. Many times chasing after material success helps boost their feelings of worth, it makes them feel more secure, and respected. Finding a balance between career and the physical and family and the emotional is vital for them. 

Leo IC - Aquarius MC: A lot revolves around attention and praise for the Leo IC. They could have been the center of attention, an only child, spoiled, or the golden child. They could have also been neglected and attention starved, or maybe they were constantly put down and scolded, rarely hearing praise. Disappointing their family may be their worst nightmare. They could come from a family with a high standing in the community, has a very demanding and set code of beliefs, or a family that places a lot of emphasis on honor and good behavior. The Aquarius MC tends to go after careers that are unconventional, they have a unique reputation, and may have a drive to help others on a big scale or change the world. Leo and Aquarius are both leaders and this person has an inner leader and an outer one. The inner one can sometimes come from a selfish place of wanting power and adoration. The outer one see’s things with clarity and objectivity and acts in the best interest of a group/collective. The inner leader may have been taught entitled and arrogant values but learns about the human condition and to be tolerant and giving throughout life. Or the “inner leader” could have had selfish streaks when young as a rebellion towards the hurt they experienced. The Aquarius MC may act "quirky”, extreme, or try to stand out to gain attention they lacked in childhood. Or through a healthy sense of self-esteem they were able to grow into the unique individual that they are. The Leo IC at their best can be good-hearted, affectionate, loves in a big way, and generous. The Aquarius MC in relation to the big hearted and generous side of their IC wants to give back and does so with intelligence and originality. 

Virgo IC - Pisces MC: The Virgo IC could have grown up with a lot of expectation, with strictness, and a lot of criticism. Their parents may have held them to higher standards than other siblings or have demanded perfection from them. They can also grow up in an environment that was highly rigid, structured, and didn’t have a lot of room to explore emotions, creativity, and intuition. The Pisces MC finds it hard to deal with practical matters, doesn’t bother with the details or logic, and operates in a much more fluid, creative, and intuitive way. The MC in a way can act like a rebellion against the pragmatic, humdrum they are used to. The Pisces MC gets labeled with a lack of drive and ambition, I think this is an unfair take. They can just prioritize other things in life other than work or material things like friendship, family, spirituality, and art. Also they can take a more relaxed approach to goals and ambition in order to be free of high standards of their upbringing. They may have grown up being taught a very certain way to behave and interact with others. The Pisces MC allows them to take things personally and they treat others how they treat them rather than with fake politeness, or the opposite - judgment. While the Virgo IC needs stability and maybe devotion in their private life, they want to be seen as the easygoing one, the imaginative one, or elusive one. There is healing and awakenings through their MC, but giving their inner child some sense of security is important. Combining the caring and subtle, humble wisdom of both signs can be powerful. They may find a lot of fulfillment by helping or taking care of others, as long as it is on their own terms. 

[phoenixyfriend]

SW Suddenly-Omegaverse AU: Surrogacy, Worldbuilding, Obi-Mom

Truly the main irony of all this is that everyone considers Obi-Wan the Better Omega but Anakin is the one who's actually 👀👀👀 about pregnancy

Obi-Wan: I have the deepest respect for those who do it, but the idea of growing another person inside of me is weird and gross, no, thank you.

Meanwhile Anakin is like. Immediate baby fever. Someone actually approaches him like "hey... there are forms you can fill out to request an exception for pregnancy, and like... regulations" because he's that obvious about it.

I assume that if they've got safety nets for accidental pregnancies, then they're probably aware that there are people who want to do it on purpose? I feel like in an omegaverse where 'biological imperative to procreate' can be so much more intense, then maybe there's old precedent that stuck around even after suppressants got most of those hormones under better control.

Bit torn. Just know I want Anakin to Make Baby.

"Anakin, what are you--" "Do you think offering to be someone's surrogate would be acceptable to the council as a way to be pregnant without getting attached." "...what." "They'd probably accept that as a way to practice not getting attached, right?" "N...no, that's not... what?"

Anakin approaching Bail and Breha and being like “Do you... still want a kid? I would provide a kid. Do you want one here*?”

* in this dimension

Great way to give up the baby as a parent because he'd still be able to see them once in a while but also like... it's not HIS kid, technically. He can be a cool uncle who happened to give birth, which is distant enough to not be 'attached,' but close enough that his Tatooine-raised 'must ensure family is safe whenever possible' background doesn't flip out. It helps that 'Core World Royalty' is like... a top-tier family to be raised in.

(It would have to be post-war because he probably shouldn’t be risking his life while very pregnant. He needs to be reminded of that sometimes.)

Bail/Breha is an alpha/alpha relationship and while a pregnancy is still possible,* it’s a whole lot more difficult, and that's on top of Breha's canon medical issues that resulted in her heart and lungs getting replaced.

* AFAB alphas can get pregnant, and AMAB omegas can inseminate, but the success rate on that angle is much lower than the 'traditional' alpha/omega roles, as is any attempt at reproduction outside rut/heat. They're low-fertility overall for the non-dominant aspect of their reproductive system, which... ha, Anakin and Obi-Wan try to get explanations for why the senary system works the way it does, but it's a very longform history lesson that comes down to 'idk this got cemented so long ago that nobody really knows why anymore.'

AKA "why do you title these roles male omega and female alpha instead of intersex omega and intersex alpha since both parties have both genitals."

ANYWAY

Anakin: I want to make babies. But I don't want to get kicked out of the order. But I don't want to give up my own babies for adoption. But I can't keep my own babies if I want to stay a Jedi. So basically I want to have someone else's babies? Anakin: ...wait shit that's just surrogacy.

Anakin, calling up Obi-Wan: Hey are the Organas still struggling to have a kid? Obi-Wan: ...not really your business. Anakin: You're friends with Bail again though, right? Obi-Wan: I am, but-- Anakin: Do you think they'd want me to be a surrogate? Obi-Wan: What.

I can't decide if it's funnier for the Order to be like "I mean... technically there's no rules against this?" or if this is a precedent set by at least three omegas every generation because that's just how a/b/o manifested for omegas in a biological and cultural sense.

Bail: Wait, your former apprentice is... volunteering... to be our surrogate. Obi-Wan, exhausted: Yes. Bail: He barely knows us. Obi-Wan: He respects you and you're the closest people he knows that want a child and would be good parents. Bail: And he's just... volunteering? Obi-Wan: Yes. Also, you did say your primary worry was that a surrogate might be targeted for assassination and you couldn't ask someone to risk that, right? Anakin is very much able to avoid assassins, and would be staying primarily in the Temple anyway. Very safe, and not particularly scared of assassins in the first place. Bail: Your words say you approve, but your tone says otherwise. Obi-Wan: Anakin considers me his father. I'm not old enough to be a grandparent. Bail: Ah.

Anakin is a surrogate and enjoys it and everything is fine and then like a year later he's accidentally pregnant with his own and Rex's kid, and nobody knows how to ask if it's actually an accident.

A suggestion from @gelpenss:

OH MAN i.... have to drive home. But I just had a thought about like. I always want to poke at Betas in A/B/O like are they “normal” or different from our standard or.... but ANYWAY assuming they have a pheromonal thing I just think it would be neat if betas had the ability to be the Bucket of Cold Water. Like if caught early enough, and with the caveat it’s not permanent, a beta could arrest a rut or heat in its tracks until a more ideal time. Like. They aren’t birth control. But they are the remind me later button.

Okay done driving I am Returned to bring up why I brought up betas and it’s this: well okay 1. It plays nice with a popular but inaccurate dog breeding urban legend that female dogs will like, delay heat cycles? so that the bitches above them in pack hierarchy have first choice of mate selection. And I think in omegaverse it would be cool if that was a Bio Fact, and also historically enforced by the third designation. 2. It gives me an excuse to have betas have the Most Sensitive sense of smell because it’s their “job” to pick up on things before they go too far to be put on pause. 3. I’m just thinkin ‘bout a beta clone [...] just hovering around Obi-Wan because they found out how much stress his heat cycle causes and they’re like “okay cool I will help make sure it does Not”

I want to like a/b/o verses but betas niggle at me. I want to give them a hat and a Function that woulda helped before modern medicine.

I'm not sure how I feel about betas being able to delay heats, but I do like the idea of them having a more sensitive sense of pheromone smell than most. Most aliens assume it's omegas with the best sense of smell, and betas with the worst, but it's more complicated than that because they all specialize: Alphas are actually less attuned to pheromone smells, but more attuned to things that were useful back when humans were still a hunter-gatherer species. Omegas tend to be heightened towards danger smells like fire or aggression, and pheromones relating to children/care. Betas, as suggested above, are very sensitive to pheromone changes relating to mood and behavior of the community around them.

I like the idea that betas were historically the ones that ended up taking care children, unmated omegas, and so on during people's heats and ruts, because they kept their heads about themselves long enough to do things like cook and clean while someone was reeking of hormones. The checks and balances work out that betas may have lower fertility, but it makes them better able to support the network around them.

It works in with humanity's general collective history of thriving the most when working as a community.

Given that I decided that this is Jangobi, the clones might all subconsciously view Obi-Wan as Mom. Not intentionally, but, you know... Obi-Wan the not-evil stepmother. He doesn't know how he got into this situation, but he sure is here, and he sure as hell doesn't know how to get out.

Obi-Wan "I don't need to get pregnant, I have three million stepchildren" Kenobi

I definitely love "clones all want to make Obi-Wan's heats less stressful" but like in a different way from Whatever The Fuck Anakin's Got Going On.

Obi-Wan using the force to dull the pain in a Shiny's broken leg while the medic works on it and the Shiny just mumbles "Thanks mom" and everyone gets very embarrassed and pretends it didn't happen.

But then it happens again. And again.

Obi-Wan asks for an explanation from Cody and gets a halting response that, since Jango is technically their father, and his scent has been all over Obi-Wan recently... and Obi-Wan puts in a lot of effort to take care of them all.......

Anakin overhears the clones calling Obi-Wan "mom" and just. The most judgmental eyebrow raise.... Mostly in the sense of "You never let me call you dad" "Thought you said you weren't anyone's parent." "Hey, hey, Obi-Wan. What the fuck."

BOBA. BOBA ABSOLUTELY CALLS OBI-WAN MOM WHENEVER POSSIBLE. IT'S DEEPLY FRUSTRATING.

Obi-Wan eventually manages to admit that he's uncomfortable with it at minimum because of the gendering the word has for him, can they at least use the neutral 'buir' instead?

Word spreads like fire, takes like two days max for everyone to switch.

(Anakin demands cuddles as compensation for not getting to call Obi-Wan any true parental term for years.)

[modernday-orpheus]

Okay, hear me out. If Tim idolized Batman instead of Robin, Bruce would be dead.

(long post under the cut!)

Disclaimer: I am not perfect and don't know everything there is to know about comics! Some shit here may be accidentally based on fanon rather than canon! Please be nice!

Tim, of course, respects and looks up to Batman. Bruce is his mentor and his father, so it's safe to assume he loves him as well. But his Hero™ is and always has been Robin, Dick at first but especially Jason judging by the timeline. Most people in Gotham view Robin as an addendum, an extra, nothing more than a kid sidekick. They’re disappointed if her shows up without Batman, and question his abilities. Tim’s hero worship combined with his knowledge of their identities, in this case, allows him to see things as they truly are. For Tim, Robin is a light in the dark, a balancing act with Batman, not his sidekick but his partner. He’s a necessary part of the Dynamic Duo because while Batman represents Justice, Robin represents this Hope for a better future. Sure, he’s just a kid; by all accounts he shouldn’t even be out there fighting, but maybe, if he is, no other kids won’t have to fight as hard just to survive. He represents the soul of Gotham, underneath the criminality and corruption; a city full of people, tough-as-nails, saying “No, fuck you, this is our city” despite the constant danger. He represents the people who come together in times of crisis, who help out their neighbors when each new disaster strikes. He’s trained in martial arts, of course, and he’s a skilled fighter, but Robin’s primary job is always the safety of civilians. He’s the one that gets scared little kids out of a burning building while Batman keeps the villain of the week busy, the one who stays behind with SA victims walks them home because Batman is too much for those things. He uses fear where Robin uses kindness, compassion, and love.

Tim sees this. So, when Robin dies and Batman is getting rougher, more violent, more careless, he notices. He notices that Bruce is picking bigger fights than he can handle, taking hits he could dodge, breaking four ribs instead of two, barely making it back to the manor each night. If he idolized Bruce, at this point, he would trust him the way the rest of Gotham does. He would assume it was a rough patch, and Bruce would recover, and that Batman would always save the day. He would see a solitary hero, the way Batman wants to be seen. He wouldn’t think it necessary to reach out to Dick for help, and even if he did he would think Nightwing would be enough help. He wouldn’t understand the importance of the Robin mantle, the specific role that needs to be filled. Nightwing can represent a lot of things; fluidity, positive change, and freedom come to mind immediately, but there's no world where Nightwing represents Gotham and Hope the same way Robin does. He can’t serve the same purpose anymore, not in that uniform. Bruce would die at Two-Face’s hands in that very first arc, I have not a single doubt in my mind.

Then, as Tim comes back to Gotham post-training and actually starts to help out, it’s common for him to be the conscience. He falls easily into the role of Robin, the role that makes him protector of the innocent. He’s not like Jason, raised by these streets in a very different way, though I wouldn’t say either is better or worse. Where Jason struggled and had to fight, out there each night pre-Bruce out of necessity rather than choice. He knows all the best hiding spots and back-alleys because it kept him alive. He chooses to be Robin because he needed a hero and wants to be that for other people. Tim chose those streets, and he chose them for Robin. He knows the best hiding spots because they put him closer to the action, because he raised himself on all those cold nights alone on rooftops with his camera. He knows the back-alleys because they made him faster, made it so his little kid legs could keep up with his hero so he wouldn’t miss a moment. He lives for Gotham nights, for the thrill of seeing everything, getting to know everything. He chooses to be Robin because where his parents failed to teach him how to be a good person, Robin stepped up. He bases his morals off of watching Robin help people, and because he’s a kid he assumes that it’s normal to behave with altruistic intentions and prioritize others.

There’s a point to be made here, briefly, about how this lends itself to Tim’s self-worth issues and insecurities. If his job is to assist, supplement, guide, and fill in the blanks when Batman fails, he doesn’t have the option of failure. He expects that how he does his job, as long as the job gets done, doesn’t matter because he doesn’t view himself as the hero. He never views himself as a main character in his own story; he truly thinks he’s doing what anyone else in his position would gladly do. This is why he overworks himself, why he’s known for living, for lack of a better term “like a goddamn ninja turtle”. It’s why he’s always Robin or Red Robin or even his public persona Timothy Drake-Wayne but rarely Just Tim. Very few people get to see Just Tim, normal Tim, because if they’re seeing that then he’s not doing his job.

All of these factors lead to Tim’s conclusion that if no one else can get Batman out of this state, least of all Batman himself, of course the next logical conclusion is that it’s his responsibility to step up and do the job. Furthermore, it’s only because he idolized Robin that he can fill the role properly because his relationship to Bruce, especially in the beginning, is nothing like Dick and Jason’s relationships with Bruce. He’s not his kid, doesn’t bring Robin’s joy and hope home, so instead he has to work twice as hard in the field to keep Bruce away from the edge. He’s the first of the Robins to view himself as Batman’s protector rather than the other way around, and he’s the only one who Bruce acknowledges when he tries to fill that role. Bruce accepts it when Tim manages him, reorganizes his files, forces him into the medbay, even when he very occasionally goes as far as to outright scold him rather than just pressure him to make the right choices. He’s given an inch and takes a mile, because he believes (rightfully, in my opinion) that if he doesn't then all hope is lost. And Bruce allows him to help, to guide, as much as he’s willing to because he’s not his kid first. He’s Robin first.

This mentality carries over to the Red Robin arc, where Tim spends an entire year chasing after Bruce to save him. He does it alone, and although he asks for help he doesn’t actually expect it. Furthermore, because his morals are based off of Robin in his infinite altruism rather than Batman with his rigid rules, he doesn’t mind working with Ra’s al Ghul. He doesn’t mind betraying Ra’s by killing his men, by blowing up his bases. He doesn’t tell Bruce about it to protect Bruce from having another murderer under his roof, and because he doesn’t think it matters enough. Bruce isn’t surprised when Tim is the one to save him. I believe he would have been if any other Robin had shown up. He and Dick have had a strained relationship for years, he and Jason aren’t even on speaking terms, Stephanie was so often full of rage at him throughout her run as Robin and is dead at the time, and he doesn’t even really have a relationship with Damian. Aside from all of that, he’s assumed dead. He can’t assume the Justice League will spend their time saving a dead man. And yet, despite all of that, he isn’t surprised when Tim is the one to pull him out of the time stream. He’s disoriented, sure, and a little surprised it was possible for him to be saved at all, and he even wants to hear about how he figured it out, but his doubt is never placed on the fact that Tim would be the one to understand and tear the world apart to bring him home.

I believe this also helps to explain Tim’s struggle with letting go of the Robin mantle, outside of the fact that he was the first to have the choice to move on taken away from him. If he’s always been Robin first, always felt the weight of that on his shoulders, what is he supposed to do when his very identity is stripped away right as he loses everyone who got to really know him as Just Tim? How is he supposed to cope with having to reconstruct his own idea of who he is with no one around to remind him? Humans are social creatures. We learn and grow with and because of each other. He’s encouraged by Dick to grow quickly out of Robin to fill a new role, which is a nice sentiment from Dick’s own point of view, but he’s lacking a sturdy foundation. Not because it’s not actually there, or because he lacks personality or morals, but because he truly views himself and all of his good decisions as just what anybody would do and what Robin is supposed to do. He doesn’t consider that following these morals makes them his, makes them the building blocks for wherever he goes next, he considers them to be traits of a character he no longer plays; a purpose he no longer serves.

[userholland]

all for her [3]

pairing: dad!bartender!tom x female!reader

warnings: cursing, lots of angst

summary: a single-dad bartender, a supportive best friend and their continuous, unrequited love noticed by his optimistic daughter. is it possible to break a heart they never knew they had?

word count: 8.7k! 

a/n: another month has passed but! finally here’s part 3!!! sorry for the delay but i was caught in between this rut & midterms so it took a while for any big ideas to spark. but i’m so happy that so many of y’all have enjoyed this story. i want to say again that this is my favorite fic series i’ve ever written so thank you so so much for appreciating it! i may end with 5 parts, but i won’t leave y’all hanging!

— masterlist ☆彡

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

A week had passed since the gruesome bar fight and Tom was still left with a dark bruise surrounding his right eye along with another on the side of his chin and the start of his jaw. Luckily, there were no broken bones or dislocated limbs, but it was made known that he had a concussion after you forced him to go to the emergency room and get properly looked at by a doctor. As stubborn as he was, Tom tried listening to the careful instructions given for the follow-up appointments that would come, but everything went in one ear and out the other.

“We want to make sure each part of the brain that was impacted is still intact, so we want you to see this specialist and they’ll run a few cognitive tests to make sure everything is okay.” The doctor explained in simple terms as he scribbled the information on his prescription pad and ripped it off.

You nodded, taking the paper from him, “How much is all this?”

“It’s not too costly, but insurance should cover most of it.” He reassured, glancing at you before looking back at Tom’s chart, “I recommend a lot of rest and time away from work for at least two to three days.”

Tom quickly looked over, “I can’t take off work right now. I really can’t afford to do that right now.”

“Mr. Holland, we want to make sure that there’s no way you could injure yourself even more than now. You need to take a few rest days in order to relax and stay away from anything strenuous.”

“I’m a bartender, I think I can-”

“Tom... relax, please.” You retorted at him, your jaw slightly clenched.

Tom stared out the window with his side against the wall, feeling like he was miles away even though he was just across the room. You peered over at him a few times throughout the appointment, but you knew he didn’t want to be here. One of the strings of his black hoodie curled around his pointer finger, pulling on the coil before letting it spring back, repeating it a few times as the doctor continued informing to you.

He’d been fixated on the results of the DNA test. It was rooted in his mind from how many times he read over it, convincing himself it wasn’t true and it was a huge mistake. Doubt consumed his thoughts, wondering how he could have been so stupid to fall for the entire ruse even though Tom never regretted one moment of raising Summer. He loved her so much and would do anything to have her back, but finding out the truth made it harder for him to figure out if he should still be fighting for her.

Throughout the nights, he tossed and turned enough to wake you up, feeling his pull on the sheets. Sometimes you’d hold him from behind, curling your arms and locking them to make him feel safe. You pressed your cheek against his back, the eerily sound of his heartbeat against your ear as it quickly thudded. His thumb brushed over the top of your hand, remembering that you were still there, but when he closed his eyes, every thought crawled its way back in and cluttered his mind enough to make him want to burst into an angry fit.

After a few minutes, the doctor left you two to gather your things. Tom ran his hand over his hair as he started to walk to the door, but you blocked him from taking another step. With your arms crossed in front of your chest and your eyebrows furrowed, Tom knew that look was never good.

“Talk to me… C’mon, what’s going on? What’s on your mind?” You softly asked, still looking into his eyes.

Tom ran his hands down his face, a light groan leaving his lips from the frustration slowly building inside his entire body.

“I don’t want to talk about it now, Y/N. Please. I’m fucking embarrassed enough.” He huffed.

“Then when are you gonna talk about it?” You retorted, your eyebrows furrowed from concern, “You can’t keep the weight of the world on your shoulders forever.”

He shrugged, “I’m not Summer’s dad. That’s it! It was all fucking nothing. It doesn’t matter-”

“It’s always mattered, Tom!” You whisper-shouted, not wanting to make a scene with everyone passing by even though the door was closed, “What Maggie did to you was fucked up, but you raised that girl to be who she is now and that’s what matters.”

Tom gulped, his tired eyes beginning to water as he kept eye contact with you. His bottom lip quivered, but he quickly wiped his tears with his hoodie sleeve. The dryness in his throat hurt and even closing his bruised eye was painful to do, making him curse under his breath every time. He clenched his jaw tight as he rubbed the back of his neck, but you placed your hands on each side of his delicate face. 

It was hard to see him in this state where nothing mattered to him and there was a greyness that clouded over the great and wonderful person he truly was. It wasn’t the Tom you grew up with, not even close, so to see this side of him for the first time astonished you, and you weren’t sure what else it would take to see his old self other than getting Summer back.

He ran his hand over his soft curls, “Can we just go home?”

“Yeah, but remember we have a call with a lawyer tomorrow morning. He thinks you could get a good settlement deal since the guy who beat you up had prior arrests.” You reminded him, pecking his cheek then rubbing your thumb over the bruised skin under his eye.

Tom nodded, “You know we can’t afford this guy.”

“We’ll make it work.” You said, wrapping your arms around his waist with his around your neck.

He licked his lips, “Y/N, I’m not gonna make you pay for it.”

“Who said you were making me? I know you want her back as much as I do.” You sniffled, gently holding his face so he could look into your sincere eyes and saw the way they gleamed.

Neither of you wanted to surrender and it never crossed your minds to give up on Summer, but it was getting harder when you felt like Tom was a ticking time bomb and it could only take Maggie’s choice of words to pick at the one nerve no one else could reach to make him completely snap.

Your noses brushed together with your foreheads lightly pressed, both of you reminding yourselves that you had one another. Tom placed his hand on your cheek before leaning in, feeling how soft and light your lips were against his and tasting your minty chapstick. As your eyes tightly closed, you shared a slow kiss with your arms still loosely wrapped around his neck. It was a blissful kiss, one you hadn’t shared in a while, but it was comforting in moments like this where you were terrified of what was to come. 

When Tom pulled away, he planted a faint kiss on the center of your forehead, “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much more.” You mumbled as you looked into his beautiful, russet eyes, “C’mon. Let’s go home and put some ice on that eye again, maybe take a nap after.” You hinted.

He half-smiled, “That sounds nice.”

You quickly furrowed your eyebrows, pouted your bottom lip, “Hmm, and maybe take a shower, you look like hell.” You joked, raking your fingers through the front of his messy curls to the crown of his head.

Tom rolled his eyes and smirked, “You know you used to be nicer to me, like when we were kids.”

“Well that’s before I fell for you, I can’t get too soft… plus, I think it balances your ego.” You smiled, pressing your lips against his while the two of you giggled within another kiss.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Later that afternoon, you and Tom were napping on the couch with the TV on low volume. The birds chirped by the window and traffic was below the terrace, the sudden honks echoing between the buildings. You were laying between Tom’s legs, the fluffy blanket over your whole body. With your arms loose around Tom’s torso, you slumbered with your head comfortably against his chest. Tom wanted to go some sleep, blinking his dry eyes every few seconds to keep himself awake, trying to distract himself with his phone.

Light snores left your lips, your face hiding in his neck as you unconsciously curled up more. Tom stretched his neck a bit, making sure you were okay before running his hand over your hair. If he could lose Summer, Tom worried that you could slip away just as easily. He never realized how protective he was, hoping it wouldn’t push you away from his own faults and insecurities; he didn’t want to be left alone.

Tom kissed the top of your hair, nuzzling his face against the top of your head. Throughout this, you were his rock, an anchor to hold him down when things got to be too much and he couldn’t believe how supportive you were with how confused he was. You held him when he cried and you listened to him when he needed to vent. It was things you’d done before, but you both felt emotionally closer like another wall had fallen and there was nothing you couldn’t tell each other.

He slowly raked his fingers through the crown of your head to the end of your back, over and over as you peacefully napped before his phone vibrated against the coffee table. You stirred in your sleep, turning your head away and loosely wrapping your arm under Tom’s neck. As his vision cleared from his sleepy daze, Tom furrowed his eyebrows at the contact name.

“Hey, baby, I have to take this,” Tom said in a low tone, not wanting to completely wake you up.

You nodded, your eyes still closed, but Tom slowly got on his feet. After he placed the blanket over you, Tom went out to his bedroom so you could have some quiet.

“Hey, dad.” He answered.

“Hey, Tommy.”

His father always had the same monotone voice, like a poker face that he had to figure out since he was born.

“What’s going on? Is Sheryl okay?” Tom replied, sitting down on the bed.

Ever since his dad got remarried a few years ago, Tom and his father’s relationship slowly parted over time. With work, school, and a kid, Tom didn’t have time to take the backhanded compliments and concerned parenting skills that his new stepmom persistently gave to him on any family occasion. They used to have dinners together every Saturday night when Tom could get away from the city and school, but each one got worse. The last straw was around this time last year, it was Thanksgiving dinner and the blowout was something Tom tried to forget every other week. He couldn’t even bring it all up to you which was hard to keep since it’s been biting at his nerves for the last year.

As Summer got older, Tom didn’t want her to think she was “some kind of mistake” as Sheryl would put it. So for the sake of her, he told himself that his family wasn’t going to cost his daughter’s happiness and he never returned a call back until now. She asked about her grandparents around birthdays or holidays throughout the year, but it was getting harder for Tom to avoid the question when she wouldn’t give up sometimes.

Even though Tom’s mom was usually out of the country, she made sure to send presents, pictures and call every other weekend to make sure he and Summer were okay, but Tom would never admit to her if something was wrong. His mom was never there, not for him growing up and rarely now, but he knew she was trying to make up for it holiday after holiday.

“Uh, she’s well. We’re fine. I just wanted to call you and ask what’s going on… How’s Summer?” His dad genuinely asked.

Tom chuckled, “Why do you ask?”

His father hesitated for a second with his answer, “I haven’t heard from you in a while. Your mom called me and said that she hadn’t heard from you either. So, we’re just worried about you…”

“Yeah… yeah.” Tom raised his eyebrows as he rolled his eyes.

He heard his father sigh, “I know things weren’t the best the last time I saw you-”

“Some woman I barely know tells me that I can’t raise my daughter? That she was a mistake? No, dad. I should be visiting even more after that.” Tom retorted, grinning to mask how the anger was building up inside him slowly but surely.

“She’s your stepmom.”

“Not to me.”

Tom’s dad didn’t fight back his bitter attitude, “Tom, I just want to talk to you. It’s just you and me.”

“Dad, I’m really… not in the mood.” 

“Let’s get lunch… or dinner, maybe? Just the two of us.” His dad suggested, almost pleading.

There was silence between the conversation as Tom thought for a few seconds. As damaged as his bond was with his dad, he didn’t want to push him away. It would be what Maggie was doing to him, and to feel the separation from a child hurt like hell.

Tom sniffled, “Fine, yeah. Sure.”

“Great. Well, what about dinner tonight? Where do you want to meet?”

“Um, we can meet at the bar I work at… before my shift starts. Six o’clock.” Tom trailed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

Tom quickly hung up before he could burst into tears. In the back of his mind, he thought there was an ultimatum behind the real reason he wanted to talk, not thinking it was just some catching up. But, the stress of the past month had made Tom into a walking mess. Maybe this would bring back some old times, like when he was a kid in a baseball cap and his dad brought him to baseball games and carnivals when his mom was on business trips.

“Fucking Christ,” Tom said under his breath, running his hands through his hair. He blinked away the tears at the waterlines of his tired eyes, wiping them with his t-shirt before getting up.

It was still hard to pass Summer’s room and see it still untouched and empty. Tom kept it neat and clean, hoping it motivated his hope to have her back home. Sometimes he’d sit on her bed and think about the little life the three of you had together. She probably missed her stuffed animals she had tea parties with or the t-shirts she couldn’t fit in her bag. Maggie refused to let him over anymore, not after the last time they saw each other and how frustrated he got. It was hard to think that Tom was holding out for nothing, and Summer could never be in his life again.

He leaned against the doorframe, staring at the bunny sitting on her bed. It was the bunny you and Tom spent hours looking for sometimes, one day realizing that Summer started to do it on purpose. She would hide it in the last place you could think of and it became a race of who could find Mr. Fluffycakes first. She finally admitted one day that she thought it was a game that you and Tom liked to play, so she would try to find the perfect place to almost camouflage the soft, grey bunny.

Tom held it in his hands, bring it up to his face, and smelling the familiar, lavender-vanilla detergent. He sighed, glaring at the small paintings taped with scotch tape to her wall by the dollhouse in the corner of her room. It was Summer’s favorite Christmas present she had ever gotten, Tom’s mom hoping she’d like it after getting it from London. She traveled a lot, always sending things in the mail to Summer, but rarely making appearances with how much she did work. Tom hoped that would change from when he was a kid, but now he understood how his parents ended up separating.

“You okay, babe?” You grinned, leaning on the doorframe and glaring at Tom sat on Summer’s book nook.

“Yeah, just miss her.” He half-smiled, biting his bottom lip after and tossing her bunny on the bed.

You walked over, sitting next to Tom and wrapping your arm around his shoulder before kissing his temple trailing to the apple of his cheek then lightly pressing your nose against his cheek.

“I bet she misses you a lot too.” You replied. “Have you heard from Maggie? Any chance of… seeing her? Maybe a short visit.” You asked, pulling your head away to turn to him.

He nodded, “We haven’t talked. I don’t want Summer to see me like this anyways.” Tom said low, lightly touching his bruised eye.

“C’mon, you look noble and tough. She’ll think you’re more of a hero than you already are.” You joked, trying to get a smile out of him.

“Hmm, I wish I felt like that.” Tom sighed.

Trying to figure out the gears working in Tom’s head was always a mystery. You watched his brown eyes shift back and forth as he was leaned over, his elbows against the top of his knees. Another long sigh passed his lips and you could tell something else was really bothering him, not needing him to say it.

“What’s wrong, baby? C’mon, you have that furrow in your brow.” You tilted your head.

He bit the inside of his cheek, his pride fighting his urge to just open his mouth, but he had a soft spot for you like no one else could. The instant Tom looked into your eyes, he felt the comfort he knew he needed.

“My dad called me, just now.”

“Oh… Is that good or bad?” You asked.

He cracked his knuckles, shrugging, “Both, kind of...”

You didn’t know much about Tom and his dad’s relationship other than Tom hating his stepmom, in light terms than he used. But, he wanted Summer to keep in contact with them for as long as he could. So many years had passed since you last saw his dad, so it didn’t feel right to butt in when you knew the bare minimum, but last Thanksgiving was unforgivable in Tom’s book so you stood by his side on what he felt.

“We’re gonna meet for dinner tonight… at the bar. I want to take a shift tonight.” Tom added.

You sighed, “Tom, you can’t work. We have to go to the doctor soon.”

“Just tonight. I promise. I… I need to do something with myself.” He groaned as he ran his fingers through his hair, rubbing the top of his head before looking back into your eyes.

“Okay… I understand. But, just tonight.” You agreed and rubbed his arm, pressing your cheek against his shoulder.

Tom sat up, straightening his back and you pulled your face away from his shoulder to look him in the eye. Your faces were close together, a few inches away before he asked, “Can you come with me? ‘Cause, I don’t think I can do it alone.” He admitted then bit the inside of his cheek.

You tried to hide your smile, happy that he was opening up a bit at a time.

“Of course, babe. I’ll go with you for however long you need me.” You said as you trailed your hand to his, intertwining your fingers together and giving him a quick squeeze. Tom’s smile slowly painted on his tired face, bringing the top of your hand to his lips.

“Thank you. Really, thank you. You don’t know how grateful I am for you.”

“Well, I have all day.” You jeered and it made him smile again, wrapping his arms around you to scatter kisses on your cheek and neck.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The bar wasn’t busy during the late afternoon, before the fleet of college students and single women came through for the nightlife. But it was a relaxed spot when the sun was still out. A few husky men sat at the bar, eating chips and drinking pints to watch the various games on the flat screens or truckers stopping by for a nice meal and taking a smoke outside. It wasn’t the most formal place to meet up, but Tom had work in two hours so it was more convenient than worrisome to impress his dad.

You and Tom sat at a table for four, sitting next to one another and your arm linked around his. He was dressed in his work attire which was a dark-blue button-down paired with a white t-shirt with his name tag on the right side of his chest, solid black jeans that were a bit baggy on him, and his raggedy converse with the laces looped around the ankle once. He kept checking his watch every few minutes while he tapped his right foot against the floor and it began to make you a bit antsy.

“Baby, you need to relax.” You reminded him, lightly pressing your hand down on his thigh.

“I am. I’m just mentally preparing for what he’s gonna say to me.” He sighed as he sat up in his chair.

“Like what?”

“Oh, you really want me to go through the entire list?” Tom sarcastically joked, a half-smile on his lips.

You humored him with a giggle, but nodded your head, “You’re overthinking it. It’ll be okay and I’m right here next to you.”

Tom leaned in, giving you a light kiss that made your stomach fill with butterflies. You never knew how tender he could be when he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who enjoyed PDA. But, he became putty when he was around you by this point that it was hard not to want to kiss you when you comforted him.

He quickly looked down at his watch again, “He’s almost an hour late. He probably bailed.”

“Don’t say that. He’s gonna come, maybe, he’s just in weekend traffic.” You tried to keep his head up.

Tom rubbed the back of his neck, but he couldn’t help but slowly feeling the creeping feeling of abandonment on his shoulders. He wanted to give his dad a chance, he really did, but this was reminding him of how he was never the most reliable. It twisted Tom’s trust issues in every person he met and having to be forced to sit there, wondering and waiting, was eating Tom alive.

Another half-hour passed and Tom decided to clock in early. He didn’t feel like having to sit there for another hour, only to be asked and told exactly what he expected to hear. You told him that you’d sit at the end of the bar, staying with him until he specifically asked you to go home, but really you wanted to hang around to make sure Tom didn’t get into another bar fight that ended up with him having more than a concussion.

Some college students fled in and asked for a round of beers while others waited for their favorite cocktails. There was enough staff tonight that Tom didn’t feel overwhelmed like last few times, sometimes having to clock in on days he didn’t work because someone called in sick. The new guys were nice, most of them young and needing something to do during graduate school or trying to make rent.

As Tom wiped down the bar when a group of girls left, his manager, Teddy, called his name from behind. He quickly looked over his shoulder and tossed the rag in the bucket underneath the bar, walking over to Teddy who never failed to not have a clipboard in his hands. He never took off his wedding ring at work like some of the other servers and bartenders and even so, he gushed about his wife, Anna, when he could. Even though he sounded like a broken record some days, Tom admired how Teddy flaunted his stable, almost 20-year relationship.

“Glad to see you back, Tommy!” Teddy grinned at him, putting his hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah. I feel better, I just have to go to a few doctor’s appointments, if that’s okay with you.” Tom asked in the moment, crossing his arms.

“Of course! Of course. For how long you’ve been working here, I don’t think you’ve ever taken a sick day or called in last minute.”

“It’s just been two years, Teddy. You make me sound old.” Tom joked, cracking a smile.

“Yeah, but I still appreciate you. You’re a valuable asset.”

Tom didn’t want to take the compliment, but he still nodded and grinned.

“Hey, have you heard anything from that guy’s lawyers? Are they giving you any compensation?” Teddy curiously asked as he wrote with his signature, blue pen on the paper of the clipboard.

“My girlfriend and I found a lawyer, but I don’t know if he’s good enough to make sure I get the money I’m supposed to get. We’re working it out.” Tom reassured him as he glared at his feet.

Teddy smiled at Tom, big and sincere, “Well, as long as you have that support, you’ll be prepared for anything that comes your way. I’m sure your daughter will too.”

Tom nodded, “Yeah… She’s a great kid.”

He still hadn’t told anyone at work what had happened with Summer, seeing it was no one’s business other than everyone knowing he got hired because he was a single dad trying to provide for his daughter, at least who he thought was his daughter.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to work. Let me know if you need anything.” Teddy acknowledged before walking to the kitchen through the doors.

Tom bit his bottom lip before sealing his lips, looking out at the crowd coming in. Out of habit, he checked his watch again, but quickly turned away to not keep holding out with his dad to come. When Tom’s gaze landed on you, his eyes softened a bit at the natural glow you had. You were talking to a girl who you knew in college, both of you still sat at the end of the bar and you smiled and laughed with her.

As he walked over to where you were, your eyes went to him and your friend looked over her shoulder.

“I’ll see you around, Y/N.” She grinned, flashing Tom a friendly smile before she walked back over to her table of friends.

Tom’s eyes followed her then turned his focus to you, leaning on the bar, “Who was that?”

“She was in a few of my classes in college. Good friend. She thought that I had a pretty cute boyfriend too. Apparently, his black eye makes him look very brawny.” You teased, bringing your class of water to your lips as you watched him chuckle.

“Is he here tonight? I’d love to meet him finally.” Tom joked back.

The brightness was back in his brown eyes, a glimmer of hazel under the warm light. You hadn’t seen that gleam in a long time and it was a good sign and as much as you couldn’t know what was going through his mind, you just wanted more moments like this. Both of you away from the apartment where you weren’t secluded to walls that had too many memories built within them.

You leaned on the bar, your nose brushing against Tom’s before you shared a sweet, short kiss. You giggled against your lips as he did too, but you pulled back when you heard someone say his name from behind.

Tom’s dad stood there, his hair was a salt-and-pepper shade and a few lines along his face. The shoulders of his cargo jacket were wet from the downpour outside, a few raindrops dripping down his forehead and nose.

“Hey, Dad…” Tom sighed.

You turned to Tom, “Go, it’ll be okay, baby.” You reassured him, placing your hand on top of his.

“Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.” Tom said before giving you another kiss then walked around the bar to meet with his dad in the middle of the floor.

“Do you wanna sit?” His dad asked him, gesturing his hand to the table next to them.

“Yeah, I just have a few minutes,” Tom said, pulling out the chair.

His dad furrowed his eyebrows, “What happened to your face? Did you get into a fight?”

“Uh, yeah. Sort of. It’s not important.” Tom deflected as he lightly touched his eye, not thinking his bruise was that noticeable in the dim lighting of the table.

“I think it’s important.” His dad chuckled, leaning on the table to get a closer look, “C’mon, who was it?”

Tom nodded his head, “That’s not why you’re here to talk, Dad.” He said lowly, crossing his arms.

“Well, I wanted to catch up. How are you? How’s Summer?” His dad tried to carry the conversation in a more positive manner, hoping he could connect with Tom without it becoming an argument.

“Um, Summer’s fine. She’s in kindergarten this year.” Tom replied.

“Wow! Kindergarten already? It’s like yesterday you were that age. You would always wear that damn baseball hat everyday… your mom would throw a fit and she tried to hide it from you all the time, but you managed to always find it. Ah, she just loved when your hair grew out.” His dad chuckled, leaning back in his chair and he glanced over at you.

“Yeah… She’s getting older.”

“You have a picture?” His dad quickly asked.

Tom pulled out his phone, scrolling through his gallery until he found a picture from a few weeks ago at her birthday party. It was when Summer was blowing out her candles, her knees pressed into the chair cushion and her one hand pushing her up on the table while the casted one was by her side as she tried to reach the top of the cake.

“She broke her arm? Geez, what’s going on in your lives?” His dad smiled at the picture before Tom took his phone back.

“Her and Y/N went ice skating and she fell and… it was a whole thing, but she’s okay now.”

His dad grinned, “Is that Y/N over there?” He nodded his head in your direction.

Tom looked over his shoulder at you, still sat at the bar and you were talking with one of the bartenders. You crossed your leg over the other as you carried the conversation with a glowing smile painted on your lips, gesturing with your one hand while the other cupped your drink. The red and yellow lights strobed against your face, highlighting it past all the people passing by to get drinks or dance on the other side of the room. You felt Tom’s eyes glued to you, making you stare back at him and give him a playful wink.

“Yeah. We’re... dating now.” Tom admitted, glancing down at the table and drawing slow circles with his index finger on the polished wood.

Tom’s dad smiled, “Yeah well, you always had a crush on her. Glad to know you guys are still close. She was always a nice kid and… from what you told me, she was good with Summer.”

Every time Summer’s name was brought up, it struck Tom’s nerve and it made his face heat up. The more he talked about her, the more upset he got about what was going on complied with the other things going on in his life. Tom clenched his jaw, not able to reply and his dad could see he was upset. Even though Tom was growing older and he was his own man, his father could always tell when something was wrong. As much as Tom didn’t think anyone could figure him out, his dad could read him like the back of his hand.

“Is something else going on? Other than me just showing up?” His dad tilted his head to try to look at Tom.

As Tom’s pride fought his ego, he didn’t want to feel like he was suddenly giving into his father now that he was sitting in front of him. The idea of talking to his dad made him upset and brought back cruel memories, but now that he was venting and talking about things he thought he would be angry about, this seemed like a better time than any other to explain what was really going on.

Tom picked at his nail, trying to find the first words to say to how he felt without it feeling like a corny, emotional sitcom moment.

His face heated up, “I… I sort of found out that I’m… not Summer’s biological father.” Tom pinned his lips, tears developing by the corners of his eyes saying it out loud.

Tom’s father was shocked, not showing it on his face, but he gulped, “Are you sure?”

“A hundred percent. I took a DNA test at the doctor’s and… it sort of just… Well, I trust it enough to take it one time. The girl who’s her mom took her away, probably just for the child support, but I can’t figure out what to do… It’s been a month without her and I can’t sleep anymore, Dad. I raised her and I never doubted she was my daughter until now.” Tom choked up, a dryness in his throat making it hard to take a deep breath. He ran his hand over the top of his hair, weaving his fingers through the fluffy brown curls and pushing it away from his forehead.

His dad took a few seconds to contain his thoughts, wanting to truly think before he spoke and knew how much Summer meant to Tom.

“And on top of that, this asshole threw a punch at me at the bar last week and that’s how I got this.” Tom gestured to his eye, “And now I’m trying to get a settlement, but I don’t think I can afford the lawyer, and… everything is falling apart.” Tom trailed, finally looking right into his dad’s eyes who’s were similar to his.

Tom lowered his head, trying to hold his tears back at the sudden release of everything on his mind.

“I know you raised that little girl so well and I’ve always admired you for that.” His dad started.

Tom ran his hands down his face, sniffling as the whites of his eyes turned a light red. He couldn’t look at him as his father started to talk, worrying it was going to be a backhanded compliment and it was the wrong decision to do this.

“But, it’s gonna be hard to get her back if she’s not yours… but, if you find out more about how the mother feels about Summer and the whole situation, I can get in contact with a good lawyer or steer you in the direction of one.” His dad offered, but Tom nodded his head in response.

“Dad, I can’t do that.”

“I’m your father and I’m not gonna leave you hanging like this… I know you love Summer and you raised her. I’m not gonna let you drown yourself in a settlement on top of that, okay?”

“I’m not a kid anymore. I can take care of this-”

“You’re not, I know that! You’re a grown adult who’s just needing some help and that’s fine.” His dad emphasized, understanding how hard-headed his own son could be.

Tom nodded, “I want it to be a loan. I can pay you back for however long it takes.”

“No, no. Let me help you out… as your dad. I’m not a bank, I’m not… anyone else. I’m your father and I know that if you were taken away from like Summer was to you, I’d want everything to be as smooth as possible.” His dad explained, trying to show how much he truly cared about his son despite the cold, bitter tension between them for the past year and a half.

The two of them sat there with the noise of the people’s conversations around to fill the silence, but Tom came to his decision and he nodded, “Okay. It’s a deal.”

They didn’t even shake hands, let alone hug, but the thankfulness was implied. Tom’s dad grinned at his son, the one who was just a little kid he wishes he truly gave the world to instead of sitting here thinking he had a lot to make up for. 

“Other than all of that, have things been good otherwise?” His dad asked, glancing up at him.

Tom chuckled, “Just this and not much else. It’s been pretty boring without Summer around. But, Y/N has made it better.”

“Is she a keeper?” His dad grinned.

“She’s more than that. She’s really great and I could… see her in my life forever.”

His dad smiled, “I remember when she broke her arm and you just went on and on about dropping her homework at her house. I had to… call the school and get the parent contact information and then you were all jittery and nervous in the car. Even gelled your hair that day.” He recalled, smiling at the memory.

Tom blushed, “I wasn’t that nervous.”

“She really is a sweet girl. I’m happy for you.” His dad appreciated him, nice to see a smile finally on his face.

“Thanks, Dad.” Tom’s smile curled up, patches on red painting his cheeks at the thought of you even if you were sitting a few feet away.

“Well, it looks busy here so, maybe we can reschedule for an actual dinner. One that I don’t have to tip you for.” His dad jokes as they both stand up from their seats.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course. Definitely.” Tom nodded, running his sweaty palms down the front of his pants.

“It was really nice to see you. Don’t be a stranger.” His dad stood in front of him, staring at the mature and put-together man his son had become in the blink of an eye. It was a bittersweet feeling that maybe their time apart was leading up to this moment.

“I won’t.” Tom grinned, leaning in and wrapping his one arm around his dad.

His dad linked his arm around him as well, his hand meeting Tom’s back and giving it a few rubs before they pulled apart.

“I’ll keep in touch with you about the lawyer.”

“Thanks again.” Tom nodded.

You glanced over your shoulder, watching them go their own ways and his dad gave a quick wave to you. When your eyes shifted to Tom, he had a glow on his face, wanting to hide his smile by sealing his lips. You couldn’t help but grin, swiveling the barstool around to face him and you reached out for his hand.

“How did it go?” You simply asked, placing your hand on top of your knee.

Tom nodded, “It was fine, we can talk about it more when I get home.”

“No, tell me now.” You giggled, not wanting to put a damper on his news.

He half-smiled, “Just know that everything is going in the right direction. My dad said he’d help me a little bit with the settlement stuff and that way I can focus on Summer and what we’re gonna do.”

You ran your thumb over the top of his hand, “I’m really proud of you, you know that?”

“It was nothing-”

“It was something.” You retorted with a sweet smile, giving a light squeeze to his hand, “C’mhere.”

You placed your hand on his cheek, pulling him in to press a soft kiss on his lips. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t easy, but he didn’t want to take pride in something that seemed silly after it had happened. Luckily, he had you to remind him that he was taking the steps he needed to get Summer back. It was the first time you could see the light inside him even if he didn’t want to show it. Just from the difference in his smile, there was that gleam of hope.

As you pulled away, you sealed your lips and grinned at him. Your nose scrunched up as you both giggled, suddenly overwhelmed by the happiness filling yours and Tom’s hearts. You brushed your nose against his, your foreheads pressing together before he gave you another light kiss.

“Okay, I gotta work. You should go home, get some rest.”

“Well, I kind of wanna stay. It’s nice here and you’re just someone cute to look at.” You tilted your head.

“Why don’t you order something, on me, relax for a while and I’ll try to get off work early. Maybe, we can pick up ice cream on the way home to celebrate.” 

“Celebrate? Must have been really great news that I can’t wait to hear in detail.” You jeered and he planted a light kiss on your forehead before rounding behind the bar. He grabbed his rag, shoving it in his back pocket and you turned around toward him.

“What would you like to drink tonight, ma’am?” Tom said jokingly, placing a cocktail napkin on the bar in front of you.

Your lips to the side, “A rum and coke and make it dirty, Mr. Barkeep.”

He chuckled as he pulled a glass off the bottom shelf, beginning to make your drink in swift moves. He looked so natural behind the bar as he poured the bottles in intricate ways, finishing off the beverage with two cherries.

“Let me know if you need anything.” He smiled followed by a wink.

“Nothing I can say in public.” You teased before taking a sip of your drink.

Tom smirked at you before moving down the bar, tending to other customers with a natural smile on his lips. You tilted your head with your drink in your hand, almost in awe of him and how handsome he was.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The night was getting louder while the crowd was growing, some people passing by bumping your shoulder even though you were still sat at the bar. You saw a few friends and struck up conversations with them to catch up, not completely bored while Tom was working, but you were worried about him. You hoped that he wouldn’t oddly hurt himself, having to take him to the ER and give him a good “I told you so” talk on the way there.

As you worked on your second drink, your phone vibrated in your purse and the screen lit up. You furrowed your eyebrow at the unknown number but still decided to take it in case it was important. You asked your friend to save your seat as you took your purse, moving through the crowd to get outside. The rain was pouring still, but you stood underneath the awning of the bar as people ran under it, drying themselves off before entering.

“Hello? This is Y/N.”

“Y/N? It’s Summer.” She whimpered, her voice at a whisper.

She stole Maggie’s phone that she left on the charger in her room, sneaking it away and using the emergency numbers written on the tag of her backpack. Tom didn’t answer first, making her worried so she decided to call you and hoped to hear your voice she missed so much.

Your heart dropped, “Summer? Are you okay?”

“No, the lady is mean. She makes me go to bed early with no bedtime stories like Daddy said she would. She-she’s not fun and she leaves me with a strange lady next door.” She sniffled, curled up behind her bedroom door.

“Wh-What strange lady?”

“She’s old and mean too. I don’t wanna be here anymore. I wanna be with you and daddy.” Summer continued to cry at a low volume, muffling her whimpers to not let Maggie hear in the next door.

You felt your heart breaking, not sure what to say since she wasn’t your kid but, in a way, she was. You pinched your nose bridge and the heavy rain making it hard to have a clear mind.

“Um, um, have you talked to your dad? Are you safe?” You asked, frantic as her.

“N-no, Daddy didn’t answer. Please come pick me up. I hate it here.” She wept, her voice shakey as she begged.

You nodded, not able to take it anymore, “You wait there, we’re gonna come to get you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The time was almost midnight, but a loud knock echoed against Maggie’s door. She groaned, getting herself out of bed and thinking it was a drunk at the wrong apartment or someone playing a prank. As she approached the door, Maggie put her hair into a bun to clear her vision when she approached the door in the dark. After flicking on the light switch for the warm light above her, she opened the door and saw Tom dripping wet.

“Tom?... It’s almost midnight. I told you not to come here again.”

Tom sighed, “Y/N got a call from Summer and she was upset.”

Maggie rolled her eyes, “I can’t believe she took my phone. Jesus, what did you teach her? Because she’s been acting out in school, whenever I’m at work, I can’t take her anywhere!” She complained, her arm slapping against her side as the other held the door open.

“I didn’t teach her that. You’re the one who doesn’t know her and I know you’re not treating her right.”

“Oh, how do you know?”

“You leave her with some strange woman when you’re not here?”

“It’s my mother, Tom. I work, I have an actual job, okay? Not some side gig at a crappy bar where I can live on my tips.” She retorted, but it made Tom’s anger quickly grow.

Tom ran his hand through his wet hair, almost defeated by how defensive she was.

“Why are you doing this? She’s upset and she wants to see me.”

“Well, Summer is just a kid, she’ll get over it. Not getting her way is a part of life, Tom. God! You babied her so much that she just comes crying to you.” Maggie hissed at him, ready to slam the door in his face.

“She is a baby! She’s a kid, Maggie. She called Y/N because she can’t stand you. Do you think that’s good for her? Being here?” Tom yelled back, his jaw clenched and his face heating up.

“You know, I’m getting really sick of you saying what Y/N thinks is good for Summer like she’s her stepmother or something.”

“And where were you being mom of the year? Huh? Why do you have such a problem with her, Maggie? She’s the one who helped me throughout raising Summer, not you because you were never here!”

Maggie crossed her arms, her only defense since she didn’t have any words.

“Where were you when she took her first steps? Her first words? When she got her first A in kindergarten? Did you take her to the hospital when you thought she had a peanut allergy or when she fell ice skating? Who was there for her, Maggie?!” Tom persisted, his eyes filling with tears at how angry he felt.

Maggie couldn’t look Tom in the eyes because it was all true, she knew it this whole time, but hearing it out loud made her even feel a bit guilty.

“So, why do you suddenly want her now? Is it money? Or do you really want her to be in your life? I can arrange it any way you want if you really do what her back in your life, but I don’t think it’s fair that you just swoop up and take her away when she’s my kid too. A kid that I raised since you left her on my doorstep six years ago.”

Maggie chuckled out of spite, “You’d never get it.”

“Then tell me! Tell me so I understand. It’s just us right now. Y/N isn’t here and all I want is Summer back home so, what is the reason, Maggie?” Tom asked, his voice a bit more calm, but still frustrated that he hadn’t gotten a straight answer the entire time they had been standing there, “I know there’s a reason why you didn’t tell me all these years that she wasn’t mine. You know it and I know it… I just want you to be honest with me. Okay?” Tom retorted.

She sighed, stepping outside and closing the door behind her. As she rubbed her hands down her face, her breath was shaky as the truth was trying to inch out of your mouth.

“I… Summer’s dad and I were dating and I told him about her and he was… upset. Like, he thought I was just a bad mom and he said he’d leave me if I didn’t just take care of her.” She huffed, shrugging at how stupid it sounded coming out.

Tom was baffled, but he let her explain herself without interrupting.

“H-He left to Vegas or San Diego or wherever. He left me again and now I just… I wanted to prove myself!” She whined, gritting her teeth as a tear trailed down her cheek, “But, she hates me and I don’t blame her, but I know I’m not a mom. I never… wanted a kid, okay? I just… I wanted him back.”

All Tom thought was that she was selfish. He could yell and scream all he wanted, taking Summer away from her in the next few seconds, but nevertheless, he controlled his breathing and tried to hear her out.

“Anything else?” He asked looking down at his feet, his arms crossed and feeling a chill from the AC.

Her eyes were teary, but she nodded, “Don’t hate me, please. Please.” She begged at a whisper.

“I don’t… Just, do the right thing now and let her come back home.” Tom sighed, his voice broken as well.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Your body felt on fire from how anxious you felt, your foot tapping against the floor of Tom’s car. You waited, thinking your heart was going to burst in your chest if you had to wait any longer. A few minutes went by, concentrating on the time on the radio, but the heavy rain made the car windows look like stained glass. You hated biting at your nails, but you couldn’t help it after hearing Summer’s scared voice.

You curled up in the passenger seat, pulling on the seatbelt. You couldn’t just sit there anymore and do nothing, but stare at the dashboard and listen to the rain hitting the windshield. Your eyes began to tear up, wiping them quickly with the sleeves of your shirt, but you turned your head when you heard the back door open.

Tom was soaked from head to toe by this point, but Summer was curled around him before he set her on the seats. She had her backpack on, her hair damp and she was in her matching pajamas. Rain dripped off her noise and she wiped her wet forehead with the back of her hand.

“You get buckled in, just buckle in, okay?” Tom told her, still standing in the rain as he gave her the buckle of the seatbelt.

She nodded, guiding it across her body and pushing it in the lock until she heard the click.

“There you go.” He nodded, shutting the door and walking around the front of the car.

You sealed your lips as tears ran down your cheeks, tasting how salty your tears were. When Tom sat down, practically throwing himself into the car, your eyes met and you smiled at him. There was a sense of relief back in your lives at this moment, possibly a perfect one. As you glanced over your shoulder, Summer’s head was against the door and her eyes were heavy, but you reached your hand back to meet hers, holding it so tight that you never could think to let go again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

tags/taglist: @felicityparkers @dhtomholland @duskholland @sinisterspidey​@itstaskeen​ @tomhollandsgirlfriend​ @bi-writes​ @infinite-imagination​ @honeyspidey​ @hollandcrush​ @sunsetholland​ @pparkersbitch​ @namoreno​ @calltothewild​ @spideyspeaches​ @veryholland​ @osterfieldshollandgirl​ @slutforsebstan @bi-lmg​ @sunshinepeterparkr​ @annathesillyfriend​ @madmadmilk​ @antigoneidk​ @hollandcreep​ @wierdflowerpower​  

[clarawatson]

It Only Takes a Taste

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x [Fem]!Reader (GN pronouns, fem coded stuff, but I’m not sure where this is going as a larger work so we’ll say Fem!reader to be safe) Summary: You work at a diner. Aaron Hotchner falls in love with you. We’re not kidding around trying to make us all sound like profilers, just accept the diner life, we love it here. W/C: 1498 Warnings: none yet!  A/N:  First chapter of that diner!au i was talking about here! AO3 ps. I forgot to tag people, so: @willowrose99 & @genevievedarcygranger my beloveds. If you want to get added to the tag list jump in my inbox and i’ll try to remember to add tags every time i post. Where am I in this series?  01 | 02 | 03 | 04 |

~

When you first meet him it’s 5am and raining. You’re switching over shifts for your friend, Rita, because she’s been doing night shifts at the diner. This late into her pregnancy she shouldn’t be working, not technically, but she needs the money and she’s got insomnia because of the baby, so she works nights now. There’s always someone working with her, be it Joe (who’s got far too much muscle for a chef) or Lola (who can beat anyone to a pulp with a pie tray). In the early hours of the morning a bunch of tatt’ed bikies come and sit and talk about their extracurricular activities (definitely not legal) because one time there was an armed hold up and the police didn’t turn up until two hours after it had happened. People don’t like holding up a diner full of men who eat their own motorbikes for breakfast.

But when he comes in, he’s not any of them. He’s not even one of Lola’s nightly hook-ups (she needs the money, you don’t ask). He’s too well dressed in a grey suit (or is it black? Maybe it’s black), trying desperately to shove his I.D. badge in his pocket. He has a look about him that says ‘I’m part of one of the alphabet soup agencies’. A smile on his face, dead in the eyes, and the weight of the world on his shoulders. He fumbles with his wallet as he squints to read the menu behind the counter. The rain’s stopped dripping from his hair, instead he’s got droplets like his woken with the morning dew upon him.

“Hi love,” Rita coos as she hangs her apron up. She has a look about her that says she’ll eat this man for her breakfast. It’s an effort not to curse those pregnancy hormones some days.

“Go home,” you tell her, swatting her arm. “Put your feet up, rest, sleep while the baby does or some shit.” Rita sticks her bottom lip out and pouts, but she’s making grabby hands for her purse, which is stored where the tea towels used to be. Far too high to reach even when one’s not pregnant. You grab it down for her, ignoring the showering of thank-yous.

The new guy (who is getting more and more handsome by the second) is still looking at the menu. He doesn’t look like he’s going to stop looking and order any time soon.

“Are you sure you’re fine to take the metro in this weather?” you check. She’s rubbing her swollen belly and looking longingly at the booths that haven’t had anyone sit in them for hours now. 

“Wait forty-five minutes and I’ll take you!” Joe yells. He’s slaving over something in the kitchen even though it looks like no one’s ordered in hours. “Wife gave me the car ‘cause of the storm!”

“Forty-five,” you repeat and point her towards the seat that she’s been eyeing off. Rita sighs, nods, then goes out to the seat. “What can I get you?” Usually when addressing the customer you’d add something gentle like ‘sweetheart’ or ‘love’ or ‘dear’ because the customers like it and they come back because they think you’re treating them like a long lost friend.

He bats his dark eyelashes and rubs at his forehead.

“I don’t know.” He sounds tired, balancing on the very edge of exhaustion. He might just fall off into a pit of sleep that he won’t wake up from. Been there, done that. “Do you guys do coffee?”

You laugh and point to the brewed pot beside you. There’s one for each table, free refills with a pie purchase. It’s written in decorative lettering right above you on the blackboard.

“We can put it in a take-away cup. It’s before six so it’s free anyway,” you offer. The last bits a lie, but Joe doesn’t care about a cup or two of coffee going missing. He’ll catch it up later when he flirts with all of the mom’s coming through after school drop off. The new guy nods and pulls out a ten dollar note and shoves it in the tip jar. You raise an eyebrow at him, but he nods anyway. He’s like a broken bobblehead.

“I know.” He goes to the sweets display and searches through it like he’s looking for something specific. Maybe he is. You’ve not seen him in the diner before, and neither has Rita, but maybe he’s one of Lola’s regulars. Maybe you’d judged him wrong. 

“Anything caught your eye?” you ask, leaning over the counter as if you could see it from his angle too. Maybe you do it to show off just that little bit of cleavage. He notices, then looks like he’s done entirely the wrong thing as he licks his lips and blinks like a school boy.

“S-sorry,” he stammers, and Rita giggles. You point at her and give her a stern look, but she just puts her hand over her mouth and lies down on the seat. She’s still silently giggling because her belly keeps bobbing above the table. 

“I just…” he has that exhausted look on his face again.

“Long day at work?” The answer is always yes for the people who work at the alphabet agencies. He nods. “Take a seat, grab some coffee, take a minute. It’s only just gone five, you’ve got time.” 

He nods. He looks like he’s gotten his words all mixed up and they’re just sitting in his mouth, refusing to leave. Tongue tied doesn’t exactly encapsulate what looks like is going on inside his head. He sits at one of the chairs in front on the counter, and takes the coffee cup gratefully as you pass it to him.

He’s definitely an alphabet soup man. He sits in this weird stance like he’s countering his weight against a gun. His shoulders are hunched forward as if he spends hours a day doing paperwork. He’s got a nervous twitch in his hands like sitting still is only going to bring the next case.

You think about making a joke about turning on the cellphone jammer, but last time Joe made that joke the whole place ended up swarming with cops. Absolute disaster. No one’s going to do that one again. 

“Cherry, berry or apple?” you ask, grabbing a plate.

“Sorry?”

“Cherry, berry or apple?” Rita repeats from her booth. “For the pie, sweetheart.”

“Uh, I didn’t—“

“Eat it,” Rita growled. You pull a face at her even though she can’t see you. The guy smiles.

“Apple, please.” Well mannered. Sweet. He looks elated as you slide the apple pie to him and hand him the canned cream.

“Not as good as fresh, but it’s better than nothing.” 

He puts a generous amount on his plate. You half think he might like it more than proper cream. Rita leans up just enough to look at him as he digs in, fanning herself playfully before sighing and collapsing back down.

Joe brings out his tray of caramel salted cookies. They’re thick enough to look like cakes with a gooey caramel center, and they usually sell out pretty quickly. The new guy watches them intently.

“How much trouble am I going to get into if I give those to my son?” 

“How old is he?”

“Ten.”

You smile. That’s a good age. “How much do you hate his teacher?” 

He considers this with a gentle tilt of his head. “Not a lot. I’ll give it to him after school.” He pulls out his wallet again and Joe looks like he’s just hit the mother lode as he grabs one of the cardboard boxes. 

“If you really want to spoil your kid, y/n here can write really pretty on top.” You glare at Joe. He shrugs. He’s covered in cake batter and cookie dough, and smells like pancake batter. He’s always smelling sickly sweet, and like a well lived in home, despite looking like the living embodiment of Gaston. “She does it for my wife all the time.”

The handsome man’s phone buzzes. He checks it, then shovels the rest of his pie in his mouth like a starved man. 

“I have to go,” he says. He gives Joe another ten and tells him to keep the change. Joe looks like he’s about to break into a song and dance. You pour a fresh cup of coffee into a take-away cup and slide it across the counter to him. He thanks you a thousand times over then goes. With his cookie.

“Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?” Rita screeches the moment the door shut with it’s little jingle. “I’ll-show-him-my-cleavage-but-I-won’t-ask-his-name?? No wonder you can’t get a date!”

“I’ll do it next time.” Not that there’s ever a ‘next time’ for these alphabet soup agents. They’re always looking for the next place to go to so they don’t have a ‘regular place’ that can be ambushed. 

But in a perfect world... you’d see him every day.

[sirisuorionblack]

An unsafe home

Sirius Black x Slytherin!Reader

Requested -  A Sirius X reader story where the reader is a Muggle born and a Slytherin. So when the tension of the war gets heavy in the castle she gets attacked by some fellow housemates. Maybe regulus is involved? I don't know. A protective and scared Sirius who just realises how violent things are starting to get even at a "safe place" as Hogwarts.

Warnings - Injuries. 

A/N So I went a little overboard here and perhaps it may be rushed in the end. And Regulus has got quite a major role in here. Anyways, hope you enjoy @too-many-unhealthy-obsessions 

“Another one,” Remus muttered, grimly as his eyes scanned rapidly over the newspaper, ignoring the minimal amount of food he had on his plate.

Sirius sighed, “Who?”

“A muggle-born,” James read over Remus’ shoulder, discreetly placing two more toasts on his place, “In a muggle town. It's not the worst case, she’s been there to meet her parents, and...all of them,”

Sirius winced, “Enough, Remus,” he gently pried the newspaper off his best friend’s fingers.

“It's growing rapidly,” James whispered, “Dunno what's gonna happen next,”

Peter, who sat next to Sirius, shivered. Noticing that Sirius looked at James, subtly shaking his head, asking him to drop the topic.

“Sirius!” A voice called him, happily. He knew the voice way too well for he has heard them rant for hours in the end and he had listened without a hint of annoyance.

Sirius whipped around to look at you, walking towards him with a wide grin, your green robes contrasting amidst the red and yellow on either side. You were different, you were unique and above all you were his. Sirius loved you, loved you more than anything in this world, after all, he had thousands of reasons why.

“Hello,” You greeted him with a big smile, almost startling him to think of how lucky he is.

Sirius pulled you into his arms, kissing you softly, as though you would break if a speck of dust fell on you, but both you and Sirius knew that wasn't true but completely opposite. Pulling away, he placed his forehead to yours.  

“You guys are so cute,” Lily cooed.

Sirius laughed as you buried your head into his shoulder, “I know, Evans,”

“But not as cute as us though,” James said, grinning at Lily, who shook her head with a subtle smile on her face.

“I still don't know how I ended up with you, Potter,” she said, kissing his cheek.

You glanced at Sirius and then at the two of them and back at him, “I know what you are thinking, darling,” He said, and then raised his voice, “You need to stand your point, Evans,”

“Oh, shut it, Black,” she rolled her eyes and then laughed.

“Alright, then, ladies and gentlemen,” You pulled away from Sirius and held the strap of your bag tightly over your shoulder, “Unlike you seventh years, we have some real studies to do,”

“Well, the sixteen year olds nowadays are real arses, arent they?” Remu commented, smirking at you.

You scoffed, “Trust me, Lupin, you haven't been with a thirteen year old for very long,”

Regulus joined you as you walked to your Potions class, “How are you?”

Remus chuckled, “She’s not wrong though,” he said to James.

“What the-?” you chuckled at the sudden choice of question.

“Did you complete the potions assignment Slughorn gave?” Regulus asked, skimming through the parchments in his hand.

“Did you?” you asked. Regulus gritted his teeth and shook his head.

You sighed having a vague idea of what might have taken his time. Smiling, you linked your arm with him, “Slughorn loves you, Reg, so, no worries,”

“Woah, look at that, will you?” a group of students blocked your path, the silver and green ties flashing as the malicious smirk on their faces made the two colours look dirty.

“What's wrong with you Black boys, one hanging out with the same mudblood his brother shags,” A girl in the front said, twisting a piece of hair between her fingers, a nasty smirk on her artificial pink lips.

Before you could react, Regulus had his wand out. “Regulus, no,” You warned, tugging his arm, “Let's leave,”

“Aw, to where?” The girl asked, “To that traitorous disappointing scumbag of a lover you have?”

She struck the nerve and she knew it for she let out a maniacal laughter, pulling out her wand from her robes.

“Stupefy!” “Petrificus totalus!” The two of you yelled simultaneously.

Slytherins behind the girl laughed and giggled watching curses fly off from two ends of two contrasting wands and motives.

A beam of red light flew from yours and the girl - Carie, you heard after one of the Slytherins cheered her - ducked it, hitting the buff boy behind her.

His nostrils flared as he held out his own wand, hurling curses towards you just as Carie did. Regulus raised his wand too, trying to fend them off but another Slytherin kid engaged him in a duel of his own.

You were getting exhausted, struggling to keep up with the hexes thrown towards you. Suddenly, there was a different burst of green light from the tip of someone’s wand, hurling right at you.

The next few minutes were spent in a blur - the green beam hit you right in the chest. You gasped, feeling as though the air was knocked out of your lungs as your head spun rapidly. Struggling with proper balance, you felt your body curve into a graceful arc and sensed the shirt of your school uniform get wet. The vicious dancing black spots took over.

On the opposite end of the castle, Sirius sat in his transfiguration class, doodling on the piece of parchment before him and often glancing over Remus’ shoulder at what he is writing.

Suddenly, a violent shiver ran down his body, a feeling of dread settling on his chest.

“What's wrong?” Remus asked, irritatedly, finally looking up from his parchment.

“I dunno,” Sirius mumbled, taking a deep breath and loosening his tie. Remus glanced at him, concerned one last time before returning to his notes.

Sirius glanced around the room for his friends, James was seated before him with Lily, raking a hand through his messy hair and staring at her while she listened intently to Professor McGonagall, Peter was to Sirius’ left, twisting the quill in his hand.

Sirius rubbed his neck, the restlessness rising within his figure as he shuffled in his seat.

The moment the bell rang, Sirius dashed out of the room, not even caring to take his bag as he rushed down the corridor in search of his brother and you.

He found Regulus first. Unfortunately, his little brother stood right before the hospital wing that did nothing to stop the dread rising in Sirius.

“Reggie,” Sirius gasped, “I mean, uhm, Regulus, have-are you alright?!” He spotted the red blotch on the front of his shirt.

“Yeah,” Regulus breathed.

“Then what's this!?” Sirius asked, panic raising to an unwanted amount.

Regulus took a deep breath and shuddered. He looked around the corridor as if expecting someone to be there, once he realised it was after all deserted, he threw himself into his elder brother’s arms, holding Sirius tightly.

Sirius drew a sharp breath as he uncertainly wrapped his arms around Regulus. He could feel his brother shaking, “Reggie, hey, it's OK, I am here,”

“She-they-(Y/N)-” Regulus stuttered into Sirius’ shoulder.

“What's wrong with her?” Sirius asked hurriedly, pulling away from Regulus, who took a shuddering breath and gulped. He raised his hand, pointing towards the hospital wing.

Sirius looked at the door and then back at little brother, the grip on his arm tightened, “Come with me?”

Regulus’ filled with tears as he slowly shook his head, pushing his brother away he ran.

“Reg-” Sirius watched as his brother disappeared into the corner and clenched his shirt tightly, looking down at it, he realised the red liquid - which resembled so much like blood - was now on his white shirt too.

Wiping his tears, Sirius warily walked to push the door of the infirmary open, afraid of what waited inside for him.

The smell of blood and potions filled his nostrils making him flinch. Sirius looked at the bed around except one crowded with nurses, he hoped his (Y/N) wouldn't be there, he hoped.

“Mr Bl- Sirius?” Madam Pomfrey looked at Sirius, her eyes widened. She rushed to him, “What are you doing here?”

“(Y/N),” Sirius said simply, looking behind her shoulder.

“Sirius,” she placed her hand on his arm, “She is not here,”

“Oh? But Regulus said-” he pointed behind him.

A young nurse rushed towards Madam Pomfrey and whispered to her. She sighed in relief and nodded, “Sirius, she is alright,”

“So she is here?” Sirius asked, hopelessly looking around, his eyes were drawn to the crowded bed however he distracted himself.

“Sirius,” Madam Pomfrey moved to stand before him, her hands on his arms, squeezing with motherly affection. She sighed and looked as though she was contemplating something, “She is here. I will let you see her only if you assure me that you would stay calm, am I clear?”

Sirius nodded rapidly and desperately. Madam Pomfrey took a deep breath and guided him to the farthest bed - the crowded one. He felt the air knocked out of his lungs as he realised that, after all, his hope was squashed into a pulp.

You laid on the bed wrapped in a new robe and the infirmary white sheet pulled up to your chest, nurses by you, checking your pulse and pouring measure potions into goblets. Sirius felt his world crumble as he saw your discarded white blouse, it was drenched with blood, the white colour almost invisible; if he hadn’t known better he would have thought you were simply asleep. 

Sirius grabbed whatever was next to him, providing support to his shaking figure. His breath came out in struggled pants. The red stain on his shirt is the love of his life’s blood.

Madam Pomfrey watched as the boy shivered and his knees wobbled as though he would collapse any second. She watched as he blankly stared at the ground, his mind, perhaps, occupied beyond necessary that allowed tears to well in his eyes but not drop.

Sirius drew a deep breath as he stumbled towards you, alerting the nurse who glanced behind him at Madam Pomfrey who shook her head.

He crouched before you, one hand cupping your cheek the other resting on top of your hands that laid on your stomach. With Sirius’ wobbling lip he leaned up to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“What happened?” He asked to no one in particular, his eyes still scanning your face.

“We don't know,” Madam Pomfrey answered, honestly, “Regulus had barged in with her, she was unconscious,” and she hurriedly added, “She is alright now,”

“When will she wake up?” he asked.

“Within an hour or so,” Madam Pomfrey muttered.

So, Sirius waited, often heaving deep breaths to calm himself. This was supposed to be his home, where he could be safe and protected, where his loved ones could be safe yet here you were.

Every since “Voldemort” was rising, ever since he ran away from Grimmauld Place, ever since the tension between him and his little brother rose, Sirius just wanted to take you away, away to a place where he knew you would be safe and secure, not a thing can harm you. Just you and him, like a family that he always wanted - protected, protective, safe and loved beyond measure. 

“Sirius,” You mumbled, squeezing his hand.

“Puppy,” Sirius whipped his head to look at you, “You alright? What happened?”

Gulping, you pulled Sirius closer, resting your forehead against his. Sirius moved so that he was sat on the edge of the bed, leaning towards you.

“I love you,” You gently whispered. Finally, the tears that were collected in Sirius’ eyes broke free and rolled down his cheeks rapidly.

Before you could react, Sirius smashed his lips to yours in a wet kiss. It was salty from the tears that still leaked from his eyes.

You pulled away first, hurriedly wiping away his tears although it was of no use, “Sirius-”

“I love you,” he took a ragged deep breath, “So much,”

“I love you too, Sirius,” you leaned to kiss his forehead. Wiping the tears from your eyes, you chuckled wetly, “It's OK, I am alright. Nothing is wrong. I am alright, Sirius, look at me”

“You couldn't have been,” a dry sob racked his body, drawing a gasp to tumble from your lips. You pulled him even closer, holding his hands that cupped your cheeks tightly and allowing him to rest his head on the crook of your neck.

“Please, please, it's OK,” you tried to console him.

Sirius pulled away and wiped his tears as you watched him intently. You tried to sit up and to help you, a young nurse was immediately at your side and that's when you realised there were people watching the interaction.

The nurses understanding the situation shuffled away from your bed to others’.

“What happened?” Sirius asked, shifting closer to you after nodding slightly as though asking for permission.

“Just-it was nothing, Sirius,” you mumbled, lying through your teeth and you knew Sirius found out.

“What happened, darling? Please, please, tell me,” Sirius said on the verge of begging.

You looked around using the time to contemplate your options - You could either tell him and refrain him from marching to the Slytherin common room (which would be definitely hard) or you could not tell him which is absolutely not possible.

You took a deep breath, taking Sirius’ hand in yours, holding it tightly, “I just -I-the Slytherins,” you sighed, “A duel, Sirius, and I missed it,”

“A duel!?” Sirius yelled, his forehead scrunched in confusion, “Who!?”

You were silent making Sirius repeat his question this time even insisting that before, “Carie, Carie Travers,”

The rage that painted on Sirius’ face was unlike anything you've seen before. His grey orbs were ablaze with fire and hatred as his body shook.

“Sirius,” you said, worriedly. He gritted his teeth, nose flaring as he stared at the goblet on the bedside table.

He let out a deep breath, composing himself and he nodded, “Travers, isn't it?”

“Sirius…”

“No, no, don't worry, I won't do anything,” he said, frightening calm.

“Sirius, please,” You said but he ignored it.

“How? How did the duel start?” He asked, looking into your eyes, intently.

“Not now, Sirius, please,” you pleaded, not wanting to deal with it now.

Sirius sighed and leaned in to kiss your forehead, “I'm sorry,”

“It's OK,” you uncomfortably wrapped your arms around his torso and Sirius held you for a few minutes before shifting so that he leaned against the headboard and you protectively within his arms.

It wouldn't be OK. Perhaps, worse but not alright, Sirius knew that, of course, he did but he vowed to himself that he would protect you at any cost even if that means he would have to give his life, “I love you, mon amour,”

[rumblelibrary]

The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler

Chapter 1

Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.

While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and a minor depiction of a fight. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: I am a nerd for a good Victorian novel and a sexy Alienist.I have always been charmed by Laszlo’s mind and inner conflicts. So I took the chance and tried to have a run into that rollercoaster.  The story is placed between season 1 and season 2.

Diary belonging to Dr. Laszlo Kreizler.  This is a professional book of annotations over medical treatments of an alienist toward his patients. Do not disclose and send it back to the address if found: Kreizler’s Institute, xxxxxx, New York City (NY) L.K.

Samuel Griswold Goodrich, Illustrated Natural History of the Animal Kingdom (c1859). Contributed for digitization by University Library, University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign.

Schiller in his “Die Weltweisen” wrote: So long as philosophy keeps together the structure of the Universe so long does it maintain the world’s machinery by hunger and love. From the philosopher point of view sexual life takes a subordinate position in human’s life, from recent studies pushed by European philosophers, everything is about sexuality and its development. I like to think of the experience of being an alienist as the process of Queen Penelope that, while waiting for her husband Ulysses return, undoes her craftwork every night. I undo the fabulous constructs of people’s beliefs to go back to the rough sketch that stands at the beginning of their loss, their complex, their pain. Maybe that’s why working with children is so motivating and fascinating. They can be saved and yet, I am well aware, some of those sketches already traced in their young lives equal to scars that not even the most advanced theories could cure. But I can sooth them. I can prevent them the torment, the anguish, the recollection at night of those monsters. I feel like a poet would be a better alienist than a philosopher, but I have got no poetry nor philosophy in my veins, but the cold experience of the razor blade judgment of Life itself.

Today I observed a fight among the children at the Institute. Age range between 10 and 12. Boys. The fight was over the possession of a side of the playground, the territory of a pack  of youngsters formed under the name of Steven. Peculiar lad, coming from a military background finds comfort in replicating the schemes he lived in his family. He takes the role of the Father/Captain of the team and subjects children that come from a similar background story, but do not posses his same attitude to the command. All quiet on the front, until the space he declared is own spot got affected by the presence of others.  Intruders. I knowingly let the events unfold to see how Steven would react to his challenged authority. His reaction was, at first, worded, a sketch, a stage-play of an action he witnessed over and over, and he knew the part so well that some of the contending kids lowered their stance against him. Among considering to mildly intervene into this pyramid scheme of authority, another boy, Jan, calls himself on the role of the educator and hero of the masses and proceeds to unfold a wild and well assessed punch on the newly declared dictator face. Balance is established again. No need for me to arbitrate, once more the laws of nature seem to apply to children as in a state of nature.

Meet John Moore over lunch. His job at the newspaper is picking up, he is charmed by the spirits and the wits that he finds in his shared office with all the other writers. He mentions many, goes on and on over qualities and troubles, gossips and tendencies, and even little scandals here and there. To be aware of all those details gives me no interest, but to see a dear friend so invested clearly gives me something to pick up. To consider also the amount of details and the way he describes this or that member of the journal, I can do a small exercise of analysis. It is almost too easy because John is painfully genuine, even some of the kids at the institute would beat him hands down in a battle of lies. The more he likes somebody, the more he goes on about all the details and the characteristics, often letting aside the physical appearance. When he doesn’t like somebody he has a couple of adjectives for the wits and around four or five for the physical aspects that usually indulge on some repulsive idiosyncrasies.  John is a man that painfully fits in the storyline of The Picture of Dorian Gray: to him physical beauty is spiritual beauty and, of course, the other way around. This part of him surely intrigues me, makes me want to tease more from him. But, as a friend, it concerns me as John is way too prone to purposelessly decide that somebody with good eyes is also a good human being, which is a very romantic and admirably naive way of judging matters. I noticed some names that keep repeating in his narration. I dread that it is synonymous of a soon encounter from my side with the objects of his admiration. Fetiches, I dare to say, that I will have to annihilate before they sediment into his mind, perpetuating a narration that soon sees John being mislead by others.

Reserved: Tickets for the Eroica, Symphony n. 3 by Ludwig van Beethoven. Thursday evening.

Note on the show: the first movement lacked the pathos needed to begin with, I am not sure that the guest orchestra really managed to portray the wider emotional ground needed to withstand the whole representation. As the evening progressed there were some outstanding performances by the cellists. Still not approving the choice of reprising the early quick finale movement against the lengthy set of variations and fugue that we are used to in presence of the Eroica. Underwhelming the performance of the horn and oboe, vital in the comprehension of the genius of Beethoven. 

Niki is a new addition of the Institute, quite old for the standards. He is already 16, he will leave when summer ends to some expensive college his family meant him to stay. His parents expect me to make him “normal” in the time we are allowed together.  He is Austrian and I let him act it out like I don’t understand German for the first week of hist stay until today. I believe I hit his pride, which is good, in the moment I answered back to one of his sneaky comments. Now he knows. He is not safe from me, he doesn’t like it. The young man has a tendency to danger, risky tasks and edgy situations. In his mother’s own words “Niki is not afraid of anything”. The phrase didn’t raise any excitement in the father, rather some sort of painful acceptance that is role as the alpha male of the house is probably not only being challenged, but  already diminished, if not abolished. I have taken in consideration that Niki will break himself a bone or two in the process of the therapy, probably out of the spite of boredom or rebellion. It took him less than few days to turn himself into an outcast among the outcasts, which only drives me closer to analyse the complexity of his narcissistic wall of self defence. I gave him a physical challenge to lift a certain weight, he is a pretty skinny one, he didn’t like the challenge, but I am sure he will take it. He is a brainy guy, he hates to be questioned on unfamiliar ground. He won’t sleep at night thinking about it.  A challenge, in this first phase, can only bring me closer to the ease of his pains. To continue the observation.

It is a sad privilege of medicine, in particular the one I practice, to be able to witness the weaknesses of the human nature and the reverse side of life. Nevertheless, I oblige this same privilege of the study as life moves into shades of darkness. To be aware of it gives more solace to my soul than to be victim of patiently waiting for the inevitable unfolding of the events. To be able to understand more about psychology would bring more comfort and elevation to any human being, the times might not be there yet, but eventually something will move into the direction of a more wholesome approach.

Dinner meeting with Sara Howard, at the restaurant Jardin Des Cygnes, 7 pm sharp.  Do not expect to reach the dessert. Do not know if John will be participating due to undeniable tension among the two and the fatal despise of John over French cuisine.

The case that Sara unfolded tonight to my ears feels more and more like pulled out from some gothic book or from the mind of a Roman historian that needed to justify the godly origins of an Emperor. One killing, apparently random, a very constructed iconography over the body. Signs and insults, shapes and drawings. Is this a work of art? Does the killer wants his victim to be his Mona Lisa? His David? I am charmed and destabilised. If this was a murder like any other, then why to spend so much time into it? Based on the description the act of killing itself was quick: a sharp cut over the throat, almost like not wanting to ruin too much the surface to use as base for, what? I keep rerunning those symbols over and over as Sara described them to me, my mind is flooded with the designs of greek philosophers that needed to explain themselves why the sky is above our head and never collapses on us. Hilarious how, no matter the science advancement, in the mind of many the sky stands inevitably overt their shoulders, suffocates them, brings them to a death of the soul and not of the body. Is all this graphic charade indeed only a form to scream for attention?  To stress the eyes of an unaware viewer? It seems ridiculously elaborate, a scream for attention would be quick, it would be like guided by instinct, not reasoning, craftwork. Any man with a knife can paint in blood red the walls of a room and that’s asking for attention. That is the primal howl: look at me! I am here! But this one.  I don’t know yet.

Spent the early morning reading anew my copy of The Metamorphosis by Ovid. Didn’t touch it in a long time and I got bedazzled by the world of terrible sensuality, anger and selfishness of those gods and mortals. I think back at all the deviances and weaknesses of human kind and I try to relate it to all of those humanoid figures. Niki would be a minotaur, the lonesome son left in the labyrinth and his strive for success is his bull’s head. Or maybe a centaur, because of his wits and strategic thinking. I might keep up the process, maybe this is the way to understand my patients better, to understand the killer better. Must remember not to romanticise it. Greek gods were probably the first form of self indulging of a society that needed gods to be forgiving and allowing favours and punishments, but only in exchange of sacrifices. But the sacrifice never comes from the God’s will, but from the will of the man that perpetuates the act of killing. To sacrifice someone or something is the sadistic response to a lack of love deeply inherited in human mind that becomes neurotic. Is the killer giving the God of his own neurosis a body to feast upon? 

I talked with Jan this morning. The young boy is about 10, but he acts like a full grown adult. I could easily asses that’s the reason why he could challenge Steven in that fight. Two children mimicking adults situations they know too well. Jan is son of an industrial man, but he is also son of the dialectics of the industrial revolution. He sounds like he swallowed some of those books about working class rights and communism, probably pushed by a resentful surrounding (mother?uncle? the midwife?) over the social role of his father. As much as incredibly smart and lectured, Jan lost most of his early occasions in life by spending a considerable amount of time using his fists. The anger ever present in the young boy always surprises me, he seems to be holding a power, a strength of a full grown man in those tiny arms. Nevertheless, he is already the tallest of the group. He is surely an idealist, which makes him also tragically fragile. His strength mixed with his heart of gold can make him the best of the heroes or the worst of the villains. He apologised for the fight, he specified how he didn’t like the sound of Steven’s voice, more than the sound, the level of pitch.  I can’t stand somebody shouting orders, I just don’t listen anymore. He is so mature even about his own feelings, almost a gentleman in his chivalry toward the weaker children, honest with his open heart and resentful against any form of injustice.  I am not spared by his ways, he would come at me whenever he feels like I was being partial over some of the kids, his sense of justice blinds him and transform a perfectly balanced boy into a ranging animal.

Ordered book, to be delivered around tomorrow evening: Introduction à la méthode de Léonard de Vinci by Paul Valéry. Suddenly feeling myself as a gross ignorant in art themes. I always regarded myself aware of the artistic personalities and tendencies of present and past, but this new amount of perceptions over the human figure and the human body leads me to document myself more. I could ask John for advice, but he wouldn’t take things at matter that seriously. I can almost hear him say how I can make gruesome a pleasant topic such as art. I should probably wait to see the body to push any further aesthetic study, but I find myself not being able to stop. I reckon, I can allow myself a vice or two.

Today I saw the body of the killed man, courtesy of the Isaacson's. To be fair, I had underestimated it. In Sara’s descriptions, probably due to her more analytic mind, all the charm of the representation got lost in favour of a less cryptic and reasonable understanding of the act. Sara got what some alienists will call a masculine mind, which I don’t perfectly agree on. If I apply that same approach John would be a very feminine mind, all wrapped up in romanticising even the ugliest. I guess that dividing the world in “fragile and gentle” and “strong and powerful” is just easier to explain the fluctuation of something that doesn’t need a real name or a category like human inclinations on thoughts.  I got a feverish sense of patience by looking at the body. Each symbol traced with sapient slowness, dense of the time that the killer spent with the body. That is a work of hours, he had time and meaning. He had resources and was able to spend not less than the time he needed to reach, a vision? An ideal? A message? Is it the message meant to be understood? Am I supposed to unravel it or it is maybe just the way the killer communicates within himself? And if I do decifrate the code, will that bring me closer to him? Or to his next victim?

Reminder: ask John to replicate all the symbols on the bodies in the correct measure and order. It might be needed some hard convincing. Addition: scheduled meeting, his house, 3 pm.

It wasn’t a day like any other when I met you. Or maybe it was, and that’s why I got so struck by it and now I am here playing it over and over through what my memory clung on so desperately. In my own experience, life was often similar to swimming in a lake. Those rich, dense lakes in the north of (illegible cancelled word) were my father used to bring us during summer. I still feel the pull, the draw down toward the abyss. It ashamed me, in a way, the fear that such a simple feeling aroused in my young mind, unaware nevertheless, that such a feeling would follow me through all my existence. It was a prophecy and, like most of the prophecies, was a riddle. I cradle in my heart the charm of those days, the mindless happiness. The foolish feeling of freedom. Little I knew that freedom would be taken away from me that soon, that the body that used to navigate me over the dense waters, helping me to fight the haul toward the unknown, would become my own cage. That day. Today. The day where I met you, the day I was afloat.  The child gasping for air felt the wrench become a gentle push and now he is floating on his back over the scary waters of reality and malice. It gave me relief and it gave me terror, because since that very moment I knew that I would never be able to move on from the sight of you. From the feeling of your eyes lingering on me. From the smile you so easily shone upon me. From the whiff of imported perfume that hit me when you turned on side exploding that swan like neck. And nothing, not even my stern look, could dim that wave of hope that your sole presence washed over me. The abyss roars, calls me to a home of damnation and terror and curses my name and yet you repeated that hell-bound name of mine after me and I felt safe.

John told me so much about you, it feels like I have always known you.

The rope is gone from my neck, the guillotine won’t fall on me, I am spared, I am free.

I have read your latest article, I am thrilled to help with the case.

I am in disbelief.

Your voice.

Dr. Kreizler

How dare you? How dare you to come into my life, to appear, like a vision, mystical, in a way I despised at University when all those theology students talked about the divine. In this very moment I can’t recollect much of what you said, something about the case, about going with John at the obituary. It feels confusing, I feel overstimulated, my memory fails me, I am not sure anymore. I write these few lines and it is passed the hour of the witches and I wish, I demand, to never see you again, because life should never grant hope to a condemned man. 

[thefirsttree]

A personal update + my next game

OK, time to do this. I’ve been meaning to do a big DAVID WEHLE™ update for a while now and explain why I haven’t released a new game yet, but you know how life gets in the way. Especially when life is a quarantine hellscape, you have three beautiful, amazing, exhausting kids to raise, a spouse’s job you support, a viral YouTube channel that turns your brain to mush, a thousand emails waiting in your inbox since your game is free on the Epic Games Store (with an impressive number of redemptions too! … meaning lots of emails and customer support issues), etc., etc. What also contributes to my lack of updates is because… I just don’t really like posting online. Fascinating correlation, I know!

Don’t worry, this isn’t going to be a venting/ranting blog post (well, maybe a bit), because my life is seriously AMAZING and INSANELY BLESSED and LUCKY. I can’t believe how many dreams keep coming true, so much so that I feel I don’t deserve it and I really pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes… but I did want to at least be honest, because I owe that to myself.

Wow, where do I even begin? Well, how about we start with the reason I’m even a full-time indie game dev now: The First Tree. This small hobby project I worked on at night morphed into this gargantuan beast (or fox) that took over my life the past 5 years. Which is great! I’m living the dream! And yet, I really didn’t expect it to do as well as it did. At its core, my game is a slow-paced, sad walking simulator (ahem, I prefer the term “exploration game,” but you know what I mean) that somehow seemed to launch at the right time to the right audience. It resonated deeply with some of you, and for that I’m eternally grateful. I still get emails almost daily how my game changed their lives in some formative way. I’m beyond honored.

However, with that spotlight came criticism and demands from the ever-present, insatiable internet. I would randomly be surfing the gamedev subreddit trying to decompress, and I would see a comment by some rando saying how much I didn’t deserve my success, and how it was all one huge lucky fluke. And I believed them!

And to add to it, some devs considered me an indie marketing “guru”, which I was uncomfortable with. I worked hard to market my game every week, and after my GDC talk, people assumed marketing was my passion; the reason I got up every morning. Just to clarify… NO, I don’t like marketing, and I hate being the center of attention. I don’t like asking people for money and wishlists. But I did what was necessary because I was passionate about telling stories, and I wanted to give my story a fighting chance to be seen on the crowded pages of Steam.

So now, you’re probably wondering “well then David, why did you make fancy YouTube videos showing off your success? Not very modest if you ask me.” This honestly could be a long blog post all on its own, because my experience of putting myself in the spotlight and becoming a “content creator” is… complicated. It was an unusual step for me, especially since I never even showed my face online (as a game developer) until my GDC talk.

First off, I always wanted to teach and start a YouTube channel. I love video editing, especially since I’ve been doing it longer than making games! It’s a huge passion of mine. And teaching people who didn’t know they could make and finish games was a huge motivator (and it’s been so rewarding already). But the second reason is, I was scared. I was self-employed, and I was riding the success of a “huge lucky fluke” that would probably not happen again. I wanted to make sure I could provide for my amazing family, and give them food and health insurance and security in these tumultuous times. I was turning my lifelong passions and hobbies into a business, and it wasn’t as simple of a mental transition as I thought.

So, I went all in on YouTube and the accompanying online course called Game Dev Unlocked. I spent years editing the scripts and videos, and polishing them to a shine. At first, no one watched my videos, no one was buying… and in the blink of an eye, the YouTube algorithm picked up my main autobiographical video (“How Making Indie Games Changed My Life”), and I started getting 5,000 subscribers a day. Right now, I’m at 150,000 subs, which is still hard for me to believe. I always had a dream of earning 100k subs on YouTube, so I was pretty happy with the whole thing. Sales were OK, but mostly people didn’t want to buy the course. Then the emails came in…

Something you should know about me: I am a textbook “people pleaser,” and if someone asks for my help, I take it very seriously. If someone is mad at me, even if I didn’t do anything wrong, it’s all I can think about, and it ruins my day. So, taking an onslaught of people begging for help and multiplying that by an impossible amount of people for my brain to truly comprehend thanks to the internet… and let’s just say it wasn’t a healthy mix.

I received thousands of emails from people who were begging me for some kind of reassurance that everything would be OK. That their dreams would come true too. And I wanted to help every single one of them. I went from a nobody working on a game for fun to becoming a spokesperson for the indie game dream. I couldn’t even get a shake from the Chick-Fil-A drive-thru without someone recognizing me and asking for game dev advice. And it didn’t stop there… I would get emails from suicidal kids asking for help, teenagers from Afghanistan asking me to get them out of their country, and on one occasion I received an email from a hopeful game developer in a war-torn country who had just experienced a bomb blowing up their neighboring village. His friends were dead, and he was hoping he could finish a game before he died too, and he needed my help. How do you say no to something like that? Didn’t I owe it to everyone because I was lucky with my hit game and I needed to “pay it forward”? (Something people constantly reminded me of)

And then to top it off, after you’ve given everything you’ve got to other people in need… you get hate mail in your inbox. You spend the whole day serving your children and strangers on the internet, then when the kids are finally asleep, you hit the bed to relax and take a look at your phone to decompress, and you randomly come across an angry gamer in your Twitter mentions telling you your game they got for free sucks, and that you took away a potentially great game from them and that your apology isn’t good enough.

Long story short, I went to a mental therapist for the first time in my life. I was broken trying to care for two toddlers and a new baby in a pandemic (which is very, very hard), taking care of my course students who gave me their hard-earned money and demanded results, and the countless people begging for help on the internet. I was this introverted, internet-lurker trying to take on the weight of the world. I was so tired and hurt that no one cared about me and my needs… only what I could do for them.

Quitting my day job and making this hobby my full-time job has stirred up… mixed emotions. This statement may disturb some of you, but I was definitely 100% happier when I had a full-time job and I was working on my game at night. I missed working with the amazing team at The VOID, working on Star Wars… back when the success of my game was this abstract thing I could only daydream about. Mostly, I was making my game for me with no outside expectations to pay the bills or satisfy the ever-demanding internet, and that brought me a lot of joy.

It’s not all doom and gloom though! I’m actually very happy now and in the best shape I’ve been since the pandemic started. I’ve had to confront my weaknesses and personality quirks, but I’m a better person for it (and I’m sure these issues would’ve come out eventually). I hired an awesome community manager for Game Dev Unlocked who is helping SO MUCH with the emails, I can’t even tell you the mental burden it alleviates. I even leased a co-working office to help separate work from my home, and that’s been a huge help too. I’ve decided to work with my old friends from The VOID on a cool, new VR experience. It will take me away from my projects a bit, but I’m ecstatic to work with a great team again (and not manage anything, whew).

These are all things I would’ve never guessed I needed, because I thought I knew myself pretty well… turns out I didn’t.

The reality is: running a business is HARD. Running it solo is even harder. You have to remember, I was burnt out on The First Tree well into the Steam release in 2017, but I kept working on it for 4 more years due to my fears of failing again and not earning enough money for my family.

So, I was wrestling with the age-old concept of commercialism and art. There was this dichotomy of doing whatever I wanted and being true to my vision (what most people assume the indie dev dream is like), and doing only what customers wanted to buy. This is something that has killed me with YouTube… in one specific instance, I was super excited to make the exact video I wanted to make. I loved every part of its creation, and I thought it had a message that would inspire everyone. I lovingly edited it over several weeks, posted it, and excitedly waited for the stats… and it was by far my worst performing video.

This is not a new problem. Even the Sistine Chapel by Michelangelo was a commission forced upon him by the very violent Pope Julius II. My wife and I regularly talk about the fine balance between artistic integrity and commercialism, a problem she is very familiar with as an artist who constantly needs to balance what she wants to make with what the customer wants to hang up in their home.

For The First Tree, I was lucky. It was pretty much what I wanted to make (I had to compromise a lot of things of course), and it turned out millions of people wanted it too. Recently, I thought the safe business decision would be to do it all over again, so I started work on a spiritual successor to The First Tree (an idea that I may revisit one day since I do love the story idea). But that isn’t happening anytime soon. Trust me when I say I am now currently burnt out on animal exploration games.

So that realization left me with a question: what do I do next?

I’ve decided I need to make a game that I want to make, for me. It will be a bit different and I’m almost certain most fans of The First Tree will not love it… but it’s an idea that gets me super excited. It’s an idea that could help me fall in love with game development again.

A few more details: this game will be story-driven, first-person, and will use the Unreal Engine. That means development is gonna be slow going, because I have to learn a whole new tool. The “smart business” decision would be to make something quickly in Unity which I’m already familiar with… but I want to do this for me, and UE5 looks like a lot of fun. I’m also shooting for an early-ish release date so I avoid burn out and I keep the game short: I want to release it in Fall 2022, but knowing game development, it will probably take longer.

With the help of my therapist, I’ve also concluded that I’ve been too accessible on the internet and that my self-worth isn’t determined by the amount of people I try to help online. Of course, I love helping people and seeing them succeed, but I need to step back and focus on my family and myself. I will delete my social media apps on my phone (I will still post big updates occasionally) and stop responding to most emails, tweets, DMs, etc. It’s not that I’m ungrateful… in fact, if I don’t say thank you or at least acknowledge the incredibly nice people who share a sweet message about my game or want to tell me how I inspire them (still hard for me to believe, lol), I feel a ton of guilt… but I need to let that go. Please know I’m extremely grateful to all the fans who follow my work, so even if I don’t thank you directly, I truly mean it: thank you.

I will still post and stream occasionally on YouTube when I want to (and I still do live Q&A’s for my GDU students). The online course sales will help support my family as I work on a potentially risky game idea (and my new job will help alleviate the risk too). I’m gonna try one more marketing experiment and sell a mini-course soon (and add an Unreal section), and after that I’m done working on it. A gigantic thank you to the people who bought my course and are part of the amazing community, it has helped me and my family tremendously, and it’s inspiring seeing the games you make!

I’m a bit worried about the whole thing since this new game idea could flop, which could definitely affect my family. But a sappy, high-school yearbook quote is coming to mind…  I think it applies here: “A ship in harbor is safe—but that is not what ships are built for.”

Thanks for reading,

David