#her books were such a large part of my childhood and just love listening to them analysis the stories and her writing

[mechaknight-98]

Gathering: Stomping ground

Author's note: Extremely sorry for the large gap in chapters. I was prepping for a cedh Tournament, hopefully I can reestablish some sort of consistent schedule after holiday season

A few days earlier

Eunbi Kwon glanced at herself in the mirror, a gentle smile touching her lips. She adjusted her scarf, feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation for her date with Dexter. They were meeting at a cozy café she adored, renowned for its artisanal pastries and serene atmosphere.

As she arrived at the quaint café, she spotted Dexter waiting at a table by the window, a cup of steaming tea in hand. His eyes lit up as he noticed Eunbi's approach, and he rose to greet her with a warm smile and happy wave.

"Hey, Eunbi! You look lovely as always," Dexter said, a hint of shyness in his voice.

"Thank you, Dexter. You're looking great yourself," she replied, feeling a rush of warmth at his kind words. The two embraced in a soft hug before sitting down together

They settled into a comfortable conversation, “So Dexter what have you been up to recently?”

Dexter tried to collect his thoughts before answering slowly “I just finished helping Eunbi with another side project and another photobook.” Eunbi smiled at that she loved that Dexter was helping one of her “little sisters” and that said little sister was still thriving despite the hectic life of an idol. Eunbi reached out to grab Dexter’s hand

“That’s so sweet,” Eunbi responded

Dexter smiles at Eunbi. After Dexter shared stories from his latest photography project, Eunbi talked about her latest venture into a new magical spell she'd been mastering, as well as her upcoming comeback album. It still amazed Dexter how she was still so free with her magic. (Eunbi is a white mage) Dexter struggled with it because his family had always taught him that it was a tool that was as dangerous as the sharpest knife.

Eunbi's eyes sparkled with excitement as she shared her experiences, and Dexter was captivated by her passion. He couldn't help but admire her dedication to mastering the intricate magic spells she often used on stage.

The conversation meandered from magic to shared interests in music and books. They exchanged stories of childhood memories, favorite songs, and the hidden gems they discovered in old bookstores.

They ordered a delightful array of pastries, teasing each other about who had the better choice in taste. Dexter convinced Eunbi to try the café's signature blueberry tart, and she watched his face light up as he bit into his favorite apple strudel.

As the afternoon waned, they found themselves deep in conversation, the passage of time seemingly forgotten. Eunbi felt a sense of comfort and ease around Dexter, a feeling she hadn't experienced before. He listened attentively, and she found herself sharing snippets of her life she'd never confided in anyone else.

“It’s so weird even though we’ve only known each other for a little bit I feel like I’ve known you forever, like you’ve always been a part of my life,” Eunbi said to Dex. Dexter smiled as he tried to think of an appropriate response

“You’re the best!” He decided emphatically. Eunbi smiled and chuckled at her friend’s unique way with words. Dexter began processing in his brain the current situation

“Are we boyfriend and girlfriend now?” Dexter asks seriously. Eunbi’s eyes widen as she looks at Dexter. She looks at Dexter full of appreciation and gratitude. Then she notices his hands shaking.

Seeing the power she wields over his heart she smiles and says “We absolutely are” Dexter’s hand stops shaking as Eunbi smiles at him even brighter. The next few days are quiet for the couple as spend time together and feel each other out more. This changes when Eunbi and Chaewon update Dex about Connor’s whereabouts and planned activities which results in the current call

“Yeah man, what’s up?” You say

“Oh is that Dexter? Can you tell him that his help with my Kaalia deck was so good? It runs so much smoother thanks to him.” Jen interjects

Connor listens to Dex's chuckle before he responds “You’re welcome Jen. I just wanted to talk to Connor about Pancakes and croissants.” Jen looks confused but you understand the code.

“hey, Jen I need to step out for a bit. I need to grab my clothes and stuff. I will be right back.” you say to Jen who nods in understanding. “Dex I will call you back in a bit.” Connor gets the rental and reopens the call

Connor stares at his Psionic Suppressors in the glove box. He knows Dex would tell you not to take it, but the power it scares Him.

“Glad you could call me back. “ Connor hears Dexter say, “So you’re going to an umbrella event with Yunjin as your friend I am going to ask that you take your weapons with you.” Connor stares confused at the phone

“Why’s it a strictly weapon-free gala thing?” Connor asks. Connor hears an enormous sigh from Dexter.

“you’re going to a gala where the Wesker triplets are making their public appearance, for Umbrella Corp. Mrs. Wong will also be there, and you know people still incorrectly blame her for the g-virus epidemic. If I were a person with an axe to grind and I saw that. I would absolutely do it there. The event reeks of a trap, to get even with the biggest biological arms dealers in the world.” Dexter says tiredly

“okay and do you have any proof of this? You have been out of the game for a while?” Connor questions

“No don’t do that! Don’t be bad. Do the smart thing and keep an eye out for yourself, and Jen, because if something goes wrong I can’t bail you out.” Dexter Bellows (he is completely right though)

“Okay, I will consider it,” Connor responds

“No absolutely not!! I want you to give me verbal confirmation right now that you are not going to take your psionic suppressors.” Dexter almost yells.

“Dude. Why are you so serious about this?” Connor asks Dexter who is quiet for a moment before he says something Connor never considered.

“You are my closest friend Connor. Even with Voruna messing with your head making it so we weren’t cool you are my closet confidant, ally, friend, whatever. if you die I won't have anything. So I need you to live who else is going to ride for me when things get tough.” Dexter says

"What about Eunbi?" Connor teases.

Dexter on the other side of the world furrows his brow before responding, "Listen buddy don't be such a smart alek."

Connor is silent. Dexter doesn't speak often but He decided to share his heart right here. So hearing him say those things throws Connor off. So he gives verbal confirmation.

“Great now that my heart is eased you are free to go,” Dex says

“Thanks, Mom I'll call you later…Wait wait wait? I got a question for you.” Connor says to Dex before he hangs up

“OI?” He responds

“How are you? I heard you recently Won a cedh tournament with Omnath?” Connor asks

There is a moment of silence you can almost hear the gears turning for Dexter.

“Well I, I…actually. I am good. Feeling wise, and I didn’t win I got fourth place among all of the 200 participants.” Dexter responds

“Oh, that's sick,” Connor responds.

“Yeah, thanks, man. Also before I go. How did it go with Aeri?” Dexter asks

“She put me in the brother zone.” Connor reply.

Connor hears Dexter laugh. “I am so sorry but that is too funny my guy…woo I needed that laugh” Dexter says confidently

“So what do I do?” Connor asks Dex. Who is silent again regaining his bounds to Help Connor

“Well, the Christian Church boy in me says. Go after Yunjin who has the hots for, but you don’t want to hear that so I will give you my recommendation for you; Try again. Heck, you may end up dating them both. or make the offer. I know you’re okay with polyamory so just go for it, dude.” Dexter responds. He’s silent for a minute then adds. “If you do choose one don’t give a rationale besides you were my first choice.”

“That sounded like it came from experience.” Connor teases.

Dexter laughs before saying, “It is not mine though. I watched my previous friend from college crash and burn doing this.”

“Oh, can I meet these friends? I thought I was your only friend in NYU” Connor jokes

“Sadly not anymore, due to him being dead,” Dexter responds flatly. Connor can hear the sadness in his voice.

“Okay well, I will call you later and ask for more guidance after this crap show,” Connor replies to his friend and roommate.

“OH also reminder we have that meeting with that big wig lady in South Korea for filming,” Dexter responds.

“Sick. Can we door magic this time instead of flying? I am so tired.” Connor asks his friend

“Oh yeah definitely” Dexter responds. After that, Connor hangs up. he gets back to his hotel and grabs the suit, then gets a text from Jen to meet her, winter, and Hosang at a nearby diner. When Connor arrives he smiles at his friends, glad to see them. There is a seat open next to Jen. He sits and chats with Hosang, Winter, and Jen eventually having talked long enough for it to be time to leave after they all ate. they all get up to leave and a wave of dread strikes Connor. Winter is the first to notice

“Um, Connor? Are You okay?” Winter asks. he turns to her and fakes a smile. “

Yeah I am good just got a weird vibe ya know.” he says to Winter. She nods as all of them go back to the vehicle. They all get ready and dressed then head to the Gala. That sense of dread remains in Connor though.

When The group finally gets settled in Yunjin notices Connor's collar and helps him “Gosh you’re hopeless.” she says as she spruces Him up. Connor laughs. “Jen there are some things we need to talk about,” Connor says reminded of the previous events. She looks at you and sighs.

“Later tonight let’s just have fun and enjoy each other’s time.” to illustrate her point she takes out her camera for a selfie with him. Connor smiles as they do a series of photos containing both cute and funny poses. After that Connor Jen, Hosang, and Winter all sit down at the table assigned to them. they are about to eat when Connor hears a familiar voice. his face pales and his blood runs cold.

“Connor" He turns to see none other than Alex Wesker. The man who destroyed his life. He was accompanied by two a woman who looked similar to him and a girl in a wheelchair who looked like she could be related to the other two. “See I knew it was you. Good to see you healed from the island,” he said smugly

Connor's fist clenches but Jen notices, opens his hand, and puts hers in. Connor relaxed a little. “I guess so Mr. Wesker but I suggest you don’t push your luck. There are plenty of people here who would love to see you torn apart.” you spit back

Alexander smiles. “I have always been a nuisance wherever I have gone. The masses never understood my genius,” he says smugly again

Connor's eyes narrowed as Alexander walked away. Connor was surprised when the girl in the wheelchair approached. She seemed timid and frail unlike the other two. Had it not been for the striking dyed hair and red eyes he would have thought she was normal. She got closer “Um are you Dex's roommate?” she asked meekly. It took him a minute to realize she was referring to Dexter. Connor nods. “Good can I ask if he is okay?” He pause. There is something off about her and Connor's powers kicked in but due to being out of practice, the information was extremely muddled the only thing clearly coming through was that she was not to be trusted. “He’s good, we actually have been working together.” Connor gave very little. Hoping that the wheelchair girl would not make a scene. The girl smiled

“That’s good we’ll probably all be seeing each other during Ultra Max Productions 4th generation GG showcase. Well see ya.” She says as she wheels away. Connor nods watching her roll away. His psychic powers telling him she was still not to be trusted but the rest of his senses saying “she was just a defenseless girl.” this puts him on edge however and it causes him to notice things you wouldn’t otherwise. For example each of the catering staff was wearing these conspicuous bracelets. He looks closer and begins to notice what’s on those bracelets. They are injection vector bracelets. he wonders what for, so you probe into one of the catering staff’s minds. It’s difficult at first because he hasn't done it in so long, but eventually he finds an horrifying answer.

“Oh No.” Connor exclaims

“Hey Connor?” Jen said when he finally tuned back into your friends. he gesture to all of them

“we need to leave now.” Connor says. They look at him worried. “Look you’re going to have to trust me on this. Please let’s get out of here.” he says. The group looks at him seeing his fear and nods. they begin to go back to the door. When they reach it a waiter approaches Connor.

“Oh we haven’t served the meal yet.” the waiter says pleasantly as he lifts his waist to show a firearm. “it would be a shame if you miss it.” he says pleasantly. As he does more waiters surround you. Connor zclench your fist trying not to freak out. As you are led back to your seats the “festivities” begin

“Hello, Esteemed guests and patrons of the new and revamped umbrella corporation. I am your host Carla Radames. (Carla squints as she looks at you) Oh is that the hermit? Well today just got so much better, but I am getting ahead of myself.” Connor watch as Carla steps down from the podium she was standing at. she begins walking to him

“As most of you know the new umbrella has been covering almost everything. With that reach we have unprecedented access. You can thank my daughter Astrid for that. She just loves to help her mom even if she was unaware of what she was doing. She's is such a good daughter but don’t blame her for what happens next. that was all me. Astrid just helped rebuild the company. it was my vision that allowed what you are all about to see. Waiting staff please reveal the main course.” Carla monologued. Connor watches in terror as the waiting staff turn their bracelets and begin transforming.

“See after my success with the C-Virus. I looked to my daughter’s twin half brother and half sister for guidance on creating this new virus. thankfully their notes were so well done. I was easily able to iterate on in it and improve to make this. I call it the X-Virus.”not wasting anytime Connor looks at Jen, Winter and Hosang. they all nod and make a break for it. Connor summons The Rev zero and begins shooting to give them cover.

“Oh I love a good chase scene.” Carla said. as Connor and his cadre of friends fight their way out. they quickly find these new infected are much different then the others previously faced. his bullets barely phased them. so he switched the rev zero to it's alternate firing mode which garned much higher success.

this leads to Connor and several others being pinned to the kitchen as Carla watched with a smile.

“I’m a mess, mess, mess, mess” Connor hears. he turn to Jen who’s phone is going off.

“Oh it’s a video call from Eunbi.” Connor smiles remembering he could call Dexter who would probably be helpful in this situation. he take out his phone to call him when he is pleasantly surprised to see him in the frame with Eunbi. relieved Connor says to Dexter

“Everything has gone toffee.” Connor sees the recognition in his face. In a flash he is there with weapons in hand and Eunbi close behind.

“What’s the situation?” He asks.

“It’s Mrs Radames. she is back with a new virus.” Connor answers

“Jeez it never ends does it? Okay I’ll run point you cover me?” Dexter responds. Connor nod

he does a few more magic gates and tells all of the normal people to leave. Connor asks Winter, Jen, Eunbi, and Hosang to guide them.

“Where can we find you two after this?” Jen asks.

“Well I am starving and I have been craving IHOP so let’s do that.” Dexter says. His calmness about the whole thing puts everyone, and everything at ease. Connor notices that wheelchair girl wheels over to him. she looks like she wants to say something, but can’t. he doesn’t notice since he turns to Connor and asks, “Did the Weskers have anything to do with this?”

Connor look at him confused s everything happened so fast. “Not directly more like they were used this time around. At least I think. I am still reeling to be honest.” he explains.

Dexter nods. “that’s fair. Let’s go then.” Connor follow his friend who has summoned a very scary looking sword. the two walk out to see a languid Carla watching.

“Oh the Paladin mystic Dexter what a surprise. Here to help with my revenge?” Carla says seductively. this makes Connor wonder about his friend’s relationship with the lady but now wasn’t the time to ask. His response is he lifts his sword up, and stabs the ground. a ball of Plasma explodes around them burning away many of the close infected. “Shame I missed you. Waiters please finish them.” Carla says as she takes out a grappling hook from her dress and flees the scene. the infected begin to close in on them. As promised Connor provide cover fire for Dexter. his mysterious sword leaving the infected as burned husks with each slash. they are able to clean up the remaining ones using Connor's secondary fire for the Rev 0 after clearing out the hall the remaining guest who had hidden approach Connor. One of them being Voruna. she smiles at Connor but grimaces at Dexter.

“Thank you cub.” she says as she embraces him. your friend sits down quietly waiting to leave cleaning his sword. Vector approaches the duo and says thank you in his own special way

“Your trigger discipline and aim have improved greatly.” he says in his gravelly voice. Connor smiles and give him a hug. they watch as Jake Muller and Sherry Birkin approach his friend. Connor follows their lead.

“Surprised to see you still alive kid.” Jake says to Dexter friend. He looks and smiled he shakes his hand. sherry leans down and kisses his cheek.

“What he means to say is thank you.” she says pleasantly. “Also nice tattoos they’re pretty cool.” she adds. Dexter gives his signature thumbs up and gets up.

“Ready to go?” Dexter asks. Connor nods as the two of them walk out and are approached by Astrid Wesker.

“That was surprising. I didn’t expect the two of you to be quite so strong. I may need to add security to your roles as I didn’t expect the two of you to display such strength. I look forward to working with you in a few weeks.” Connor and Dexter roll their eyes as you leave. Dexter and Connor walk out avoiding police and first responders. they eventually find the girls and Hosang waiting at the truck. “Shotgun,” Dexter says as he approaches. Jen smacks him playfully.

“Jinga? I was going to call it,” she said. Dexter smiles and hops in. The rest go to the second row.

“Where to now?” Winter asks.

“IHOP hopefully,” Dexter responds. The group laughs and so Connor drives to IHOP. the rest of the group clears out minus Dexter.

“I’ll cover Winter, Eunbi, and myself. can you cover the other half?” Dexter asks Conno nods to a friend as the two walk in. Unsurprisingly the group gets some looks. Most of them were dressed in high fashion entering an IHOP. after that they all get seated and Connor goes back to the truck to get changed. after seeing that the others follow suit. When they get back Connor and Jen laugh seeing Eunbi having taken her favorite seat. Dexter’s lap. Connor wonders if Dexter has gotten the courage to tell her how he feels. His admiration for his friend is quickly burned away when he sees what Dexter orders. Connor watches his friend order a breakfast burrito and cinnamon roll pancakes.

“I am so judging you for that,” Connor says while laughing, and he just shrugs it off.

Jen snaps her fingers at the exchange. “That’s what I love about you Dexter you always are you. You don’t change for nobody.” Dexter smiles and gives a thumbs up as he leans to the table. he is careful not to squish Eunbi. fatigue is present in his eyes. Eunbi smiles at Dexter and you.

“thank you for always protecting us. both of you.” Eunbi says.

“Anytime,” Connor says say. Dexter just smiles at Eunbi. after that the food comes, and Jen is vibing. Eunbi and her have always had the biggest appetites. While you ate you watched as Jen was vibing the whole time doing little dances here and there. As they all ate winter Hosang watched eagerly. Dexter was the first to notice.

“Hey what’s so funny?” he said as he watched the couple eating and laughing at the other four.

“It’s just you all are so American it’s funny.” Hearing this Jen smiled and scrunched her nose as she smiled at Connor. Eunbi looked up from her food and began giggling. Connor looks at his friend who had spaced out from the conversation and had gone back to eating. Connor sees Eunbi look into Dexter’s eyes. this is it. you think to yourself. the moment when Eunbi and Dexter admit they like each other.

Eunbi pokes Dexter’s nose. he smiles at her. She leans in closer he leans in closer, and they kiss. Yes, Connor thinks to himself. Connor and Jen high-five each other. when they break the kiss Eunbi has a funny look. her eyes were super wide and she said the weirdest thing to say in that situation.“I guess good guys don’t finish Last.” Dexter looks at Eunbi confused before kissing her again

[the-colourful-witch]

Hi, Fleur!

I hope you know that I absolutely love and admire your artwork, they are so creative and love how each and everyone of those characters are different in their own way.

You always make me smile when I see you on my dash, and I'm glad that you share your artistic talent with all of us. I hope you never give up on your art because you are so talented.

I have a few questions (Would it be alright if I send another ask?):

I was wondering if you have any HC's about your favorite HP couple (or any fandom)?

What is your favorite part/scene from the HP series?

If you won the lottery, what would be five things you would buy? No responsible answers, feel free to be silly ;)

I hope you have a good night/morning <3

Hiya! I hope you know how much you saying this means to me. Thank you for your support and love and I hope you'll continue to enjoy seeing my work on your dash :) Ask as much as you like! I don't mind at all :)

Let's start with the first question: I do have a headcannon about Ron and Hermione.. I've always imagined that Hermione would carefully pick out novels she thinks Ron will enjoy and give them to him. And he'll complain publicly about how she's trying to get him to study more and be bookish, but they talk about the books together and Ron will ask for another one because she knows exactly what he likes. He will listen to her drone on and on about what she's currently reading and tease her in between breaths. They have a bookish love language :) I also have a Harry and Ginny headcannon... Harry eventually falls in love with Ginny because she is being herself, being cool, fun, and witty. Harry would get a little insecure because suddenly he's not sure he is worthy of her. Because he didn't have a normal childhood, he worries he might be too serious for her, or that they can't have fun together. That's when Ginny takes him outside to play Quidditch, they play matches and let go of their troubles for a bit. Afterwards, they'll lie in the grass, talking and making jokes and Ginny tells him that she doesn't care that he's famous, because she just scored 99/100 goals on him. Harry kisses her because she is one of the few people that can make him feel like a normal person and his worries ebb away.

I might draw those headcannons one day, I'd love to do more story illustrations :) Second question: favourite part of the HP series (book and/or films)... Hmm, that's a tough one. There are so many to choose from. I think, from the films; there's this scene in 'The Prisoner of Azkaban' on the day they arrive back at Hogwarts. The boys are in the Gryffindor dormitory and they're taking those animal candies. I love that scene so much, because of the fun they're having, the rain pounding on the windows outside, and the fact that they're in their pyjamas. They were probably talking about their summers, exchanging stories. It's so wholesome, I love it! From the books, I absolutely love the scene in 'The Order of the Phoenix' where Fred and George escape Hogwarts on their broomsticks. They give a final 'FUCK YOU' to Umbridge and the chaos that ensues after that is just brilliant. With the swamp and the Niffler and McGonagall instructing Peeves on how to untwist the chandelier. It's brilliant.

I love most scenes with the twins. They're so funny :)

And last, but not least! If I won the lottery, what would I buy...? That's such a fun question. Reasonable answers aside, I would buy a ship. A large, beautiful sailing vessel. I would turn the thing into a sailing art studio and just travel the world and write and illustrate books. And I would paint the outside beautiful colours, I'd have a vegetable garden on the deck and a swinging chair to read books in. It would be a little paradise at sea. I love boats and my dream is to live on one :)

[approximately20eggs]

Please don't vote for Mob in the upcoming Mob vs. Shallan Davar/Veil/Radiant dissociation swag poll!

Beloved mutuals, I write today to make a desperate plea for Squimbo From My Polls, as I threatened to do earlier. This is relatively unimportant and I need to be working on homework right now but this matters, To Me.

You see, Shallan, and Veil, and Radiant, my girls, my beloved, my collective poor little meow meow, soon face Shigeo Kageyama from Mob Psycho 100 in @dissociationswagcompetition's tumblr poll bracket. And folks, I love both of these blorbos. I really do. But Mob does not deserve to beat Shallan and Veil and Radiant! Shallan specifically here is the QUEEN of dissociating! And she's swagful! She deserves to sweep this entire bracket! However, the Stormlight Archive fandom is a fairly small one, and Mob Psycho's is... not. Do you know the post that's about Squimbo from an obscure manga from 2004 vs Pikachu, where Pikachu wins based on pure name recognition? I fear an impending situation like that when Shallan's system absolutely DESERVES to sweep. Friends, I know we all like Mob. I ask you to listen to my plea and vote for Shallan's system instead.

Let me start with the obvious. The mostly non-spoilery. To start, Shallan, Veil, and Radiant are a canon DID system. Yes, canon DID, that's not demonized and is accurately, fairly represented! They aren't side characters, either; Shallan's system is arguably one of the two most main characters in a book series with a very large cast! It's awesome! And Shallan, to be clear, has dissociation issues besides purely being part of a DID system as well. She is constantly emotionally dissociating to cope with life. It gives her significant memory trouble. She dissociates hard and constantly and her mental illnesses are a significant part of the narrative. And let me re-iterate: Shallan's system is so so swagful. Shallan is quippy and funny and smart, Veil is an utter badass spy, and Radiant is a master swordswoman. So much swag.

Plus, she does the whole bottling up emotions thing. I get that that's why Mob is in this poll probably and let me tell you: she does all that and more. She deserves this win.

This enough should be enough information to vote for her, but I want to give specific examples, and that gets into spoiler territory. So, a cut is in order.

TO START I want to say that Shallan dissociates so hard that the count of people that she murdered and then forgot about murdering is up to FOUR!! FOUR PEOPLE. She dissociates so hard her dissociation has a body count. All were very necessary murders which is why I do not consider this demonization. Her motives were incredibly understandable, such as self defense or necessary to save the world. Does not change the fact that she entirely forgot about them.

Also. She does not remember like half of her childhood at least, during which some of those murders took place! It is commonly suspected that she probably has more people she's killed under her belt and we just don't know about it because she forgot about them. Very little is known about Shallan's past in general because she dissociated too hard and doesn't remember it. She managed to acquire a shardblade, one of the most powerful weapons in the setting, and forgot how she got it.

Also!! She's very avoidant of things that are trauma triggers, especially if they threaten to make her remember stuff she's suppressed. It's very significant because Pattern, her spren, keeps trying to get her to confront her past and move on, and she keeps fighting this every single book. This is an ongoing, deep internal conflict, and not something brushed under the rug.

Finally: this system is so swagful guys. They She got stabbed and thrown into a room full of corpses, experienced The Horrors as they were being carried there, and still got up to continue their mission later, over the course of which they took a crossbow bolt to the head and acted like it was totally fine and the others were crazy for being worried about them, and they pulled it out solely because they couldn't talk around it. PLUS they magicked up an entire army once. Also, she's witty, and always has a quip, and she's married to another swagful guy, AND she and her husband would be down for a polyamorous triad with Kaladin if he was, which he sadly isn't. So much swag.

So please vote for my blorbo please please please I'll love you forever if you do. the end

[londonfoginacup]

So I finally finished Grimmy’s book.

And like, first of all I have to clarify that I LOVE Grimmy. I am here today as a One Direction stan only because I started listening to Radio 1 with a veritable obsession as I walked from class to class at my local college in the middle of Ohio in 2012. When I started listening to Radio 1, it was through the Scott Mills podcast during the Olympics, and then as Scott and Chris filled in on the breakfast show for the week between Moyles and Grimmy.

This was how I was introduced to Grimmy.

I didn’t even get into One Direction until two years later, when I heard the world premiere of Steal My Girl on Radio 1 and I realised they were 🔥

So the point is, I’m a Grimmy stan first. Scott, Chris and Grimmy were my first loves, and I already owned and loved Scott’s autobiography (clearly ghostwritten in large part, not that I blame him), so Grimmy’s book was a must to add to my collection.

(And yes, of course I got it signed. I’m getting Jordan and William’s signed too, ordered that one this week. I am a SLUT for BBC DJ books).

So there’s my credentials. I love Grimmy. I feel a deep hatred in my gut when I witness Grimmy slander. Fuck off, he is full of happiness and life.

ANYWAY. His book is incredible. Delightful. I’m very sad it’s over (I HAD been reading a chapter a week, but I got greedy today). It’s loosely chronological, but each chapter is based around a theme so it jumps around a bit. Plus, it feels very clear from the introduction and onward that he wrote it himself (complaining about how excruciating it was to try to just sit down and WRITE 70k? Nothing is more relatable).

So much of it is about his childhood, about growing up with almost grown siblings and loving but older parents. About realising he’s just a little odd, and then realising he’s very odd, and realising that he’s gay and then embracing that gayness. He talks about his deep anxiety and his passions and finding the love of his life. I read a ridiculous amount of memoirs in my free time but this one did feel exceptionally like I was listening to a bestie over drinks. I love him and I want to read it again. Parts of reading about his childhood feel like sitting in sunshine.

And now that I’ve bored most people into skipping back out of this readmore and onto the next post, here’s my controversial take:

Grimmy spends about thirty pages on his time working Radio 1. Like you’re 7/8th through the book before it happens. And that portion is all about him and his own feelings and also his bestie Annie Mac. And I just want to say, Jesus Christ of course he didn’t talk about Harry. I can’t even think of a place in the book where that would have made sense.

Celebrities Grimmy mentions, that I remember:

- Amy Winehouse, because she’s one of the first people he really gets to know in That London

- Lady GaGa, because his dad loves her

- Adele, because she made him cry while his dad was dying

That’s it. That’s the list. This wasn’t a tell-all about his party days with celebrities. This was a book about GRIMMY. The more celebs in the book, the less people are going to be reading it for him. This was a book about growing up and becoming himself, and a book about finding himself after the radio. He knows that everyone knows what his life on the radio was like. This book was about the rest of him. About how he became him.

Really, out of the very few paragraphs devoted to radio 1, this is the one that stuck out to me;

Big Boss Ben told me this was his strategy, that Radio 1 had a job to do: appeal to the kids, hey them hooked into the BBC from an early age. They wanted to shake it up, chop the age range, lost listeners who were not relevant. […] They said I was surely the only DJ in history who was employed to make audiences smaller.”

Like, Christ. Imagine the toll on your self esteem.

Also, one last thought back on the rant;

Grimmy spends this whole book writing about accepting himself, and being so deep in his anxiety because of his initial rejection of self. He speaks about being a small scared gay boy to being a large, proud gay man. This book is about his acceptance of that part of him, as much as it is about anything else. I can’t imagine that he would even want to include Harry or Louis anywhere in this book. Not when they’re closeted as they are, and he wouldn’t be able to really touch on their friendship without leaving large chunks out. I’m sure their shared queer lives is a lot of what their friendship is based on. Why put a flattened, pale imitation of that in his book?

So anyway. No, Harry did not silence him or whatever. This book was about Grimmy. It wasn’t about Grimmy-name dropping-celeb-besties.

…plus, one direction was in there. Obviously.

[triviareads]

ARC Review of Full Moon Over Freedom by Angelina M. Lopez

Summary:

Gillian Armstead-Bancroft returns to her hometown Freedom, Kansas divorced with two small children, jobless, and feeling like her bruja powers no longer work. She runs into Nicky Mendoza, her childhood friend and former lover. Their renewed friendship may be tenuous, but they have to work together if they want to contribute to the ongoing renewal of the bar Gillian owns with her sisters, as well as Milagro Street as a whole.

My review:

Gillian and Nicky have history— they were friends on and off between elementary school and college. She asked him to divest her of her virginity after her freshman year of college. I got the sense he was her, to use historical romance terminology, "bit o' rough". On his end, he definitely saw her as some unattainable princess. It's revealed later that he was really cut up about her leaving, so based on this, I expected a little more of a Persuasion vibe where he's resentful towards her when she returns, but Angelina subverted those expectations straight away in the first couple chapters when they meet again. Really, the only thing keeping them apart for most of the book is their intention to leave Freedom at the end of the summer. Oh, and also, there's Gillian's shitty ex-husband :/

Listen, Nicky is a smooth operator. Always was, based on the flashbacks, and always will be. So he and Gillian, who is a little uptight and a perfectionist, work really well together even after picking up where they left off 13 years ago. It's one of those cases where the only things holding them back are themselves (their respective ambitions and realistically, GIllian has two children to think about as well). Like, I never had a doubt that had it not been for timing, they would have been together a lot sooner.

I'd say setting is a huge part of what made this book stand out. It's a small-town setting but in the best way, particularly because Angelina M. Lopez continues with the same theme from After Hours on Milagro Street, which is just how interwoven Mexican-American culture is in Freedom, Kansas, and how much the Mexican-American community contributed to the town. it's unlikely, as many characters in the books point out, because when you think of small town America, you think of, well, white people. But pocket communities like this exist all over the country, and it was established really well here, complete with an intricate fictional history. Revitalizing the town, specifically Milagro Street is a large part of the overarching plot, and both Nicky and Gillian are involved in different ways: Nicky with his mural in the historic train station, and Gillian with her financial planning skills that would directly benefit Loretta's and other minority-owned businesses in the area.

There is also a magical and supernatural element to this story, one deeply ingrained in the culture. The community at large simply accepts this idea that ghosts and La Llorona exists, that some people can be haunted, and some people are brujas (witches) who can use their powers and milagros for the betterment of individuals or even a building or community. At first I was surprised by this casual acceptance in the modern era, but then I realized there are cultural equivalents of this all over the world. I mean, I come from a culture where astrologers are regularly consulted, horoscopes still matter, and folk rituals like bhoota kola are performed. It's just a part of the culture (dating back to a pre-Christian America), and I loved how Angelina incorporated it into the story. Specifically, Gillian is a bruja (she learnt the art from her mom) but she's "lost" her magic and is now convinced she is a curse of sorts. Nicky is haunted by a cadejo, a spirit that appears as a black dog.

The sex:

It felt like there were less overall sex scenes compared to After Hours on Milagro Street, and I would say the tension between Gillian and Nicky is more of a simmering variety compared to Alex and Jeremiah in the first book. The sexual dynamic between them was a little teacher/student, a little "I'm the eldest daughter who feels responsible for everything and would like to be taken care of during sex", with interesting sides of a mild exhibitionist kink and "hot mom".

Here's what I appreciated most, sex-wise:

a) Listen if there's one thing Angelina loves to write it's an immediate sexual scene, let it be the heroine pretty much mounting the hero in the first 3 chapters (see: Lush Money and After Hours on Milagro Street), or in this case, immediately propositioning him upon meeting him again after 13 years. And it's great. It's like instant gratification for me 😂

b) I personally loved the tidbits she gave us of Nicky/Gillian's initial sexual relationships 13 years ago (similar to how Angelina did it in Hate Crush). It's an awesome way to get insight into their characters and the hints you get are pretty damn sexy.

c) Even the slightly out-there stuff during her sex scenes like some of the dirty talk (see: any use of the word "mommy") works because it feels real. Angelina writes the weird quirks of sex really well which actually makes the scenes hotter.

Overall:

Small-town romances can sometimes get trite real fast, but this book is definitely not one of them. It has the romance, a complex family dynamic, a mystery based on town history, along with supernatural elements. The love and care in the way Angelina described Mexican-American culture really comes across. I would absolutely recommend this book to anyone in need of a good contemporary romance that's sexy and emotional in equal measure.

Thank you to Harlequin and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for my review.

[ginevra11]

I don’t get why you getting all this hate. JK said Romione was a mistake she didn’t say Hinny was. She said Hinny were basically soul mates who understood each other, and Romione would have a lot of problems in their marriage because of their personalities. If people are still arguing over Hinny being right for each other they obviously didn’t comprehend the book properly. Harry doesn’t value being a coward or being a narcissist as appealing personality traits, therefore Draco and Snape are out. “But Snape did everything for Harry” No he did it for Lily not Harry. “Harry was obsessed with Draco, especially in the 6th book” No, he was suspicious of him and was annoyed no one was listening to him. The kid just lost his godfather the only family he knew. His freaken teammate/friend and best friend were hurt by Draco, and that’s not something Harry would forget. He was determined to not let anyone he loved get hurt again. He tried to inform the adults this time but no one listened to him and it annoyed the fuck out of him because he knew he was right. And guess what he was right! “Hermione was better suited for him” No she wasn’t. Harry was just too nice to tell her off at times. Hermione was always a sister and if you can’t understand that maybe read the book instead of watching the movies. They didn’t talk to each other for days when Ron left. When Harry and Ron fought or when he was dating Lavender he was annoyed because he had to spend more time with Hermione, which entailed studying. He was never able to open up to her and talk to her. If you read between the lines you’ll notice that. Ginny understood him and defended him. Even when he broke up with her she knew it was coming and understood why. When they were on the hunt she tried to steal the sword of Gryffindor for Harry, she was still loyal to a fault after he broke her heart. Don’t even get me started on how fucken adorable it was that Harry would search for Ginny’s name on the Marauders map and his last thought before his sacrifice was of Ginny, no one else but Ginny. He was willing to die for her so yeah sleep on that mate. She’s a “bully” umm she basically led the rebellion in DH to stop people of from being bullied/hurt by the Carrows and Slytherins. She put herself in danger to help others. After her brother died where was she? Outside helping a girl who was scared and hurt and comforting her. Oh yeah, that sounds like a big old bully to me. A bully who went with Neville to the dance even though everyone made fun of him she said yes, and basically told Ron she already had a date so she wouldn’t going with Harry (whom she had a huge crush on). Did she possibly do things when she shouldn’t have? Absolutely. She is hot headed, not going to deny that but she would never maliciously bully people like Draco or Snape EVER.

For all the Hinny haters let me explain it in a language you can comprehend:

NA-NA-NA BOO BOO

HARRY CHOSE GINNY AND NOT THE FERRET OR GREASY-HAIRED GIT 👅

It’s official. It’s locked, sealed and printed. And you can makeup whatever ending you want but guess what it’ll all be in your head because that’s not canon. Harry likes strong women with a fierce personality who are loyal so deal with it he chose Ginny and she was the right choice. Sorry for the rant, some of those comments just had my blood boiling.

I am terribly sorry for the late reply. I was packed with exams and a rough transition to an adult life.

Thank you so much for the wholesale ask. And the heartfelt rant is greatly appreciated. I pretty much agree with everything you said.

However, I have come to realise that Harry Potter is a treasured memory for a great number of people. People like it for its characters, for its story, for its message, for friendship and family but largely because it was a part of their growing up, their childhood. It is hence, very easy to relate one's personal life with the characters and experiences in the book. The variety of characters, shipping choices, analysis and theories about anything HP is a part of the people and their personal attachment to the series. The glorification of characters, of a ship or plotline, I believe, roots from personalized perception of the canon.

I try to 'ship and let ship' but not everyone is comfortable with the idea. Even within the hinny shippers we come accross a variety of opinions and perceptions. But sometimes people just don't want to understand or even acknowledge that not everyone has to share your beliefs. Mostly, the hate messages and bashing comments are a meh attempt to accomplish God knows what but sometimes it gets out of hand. The only way to harmony in this fandom is to stick to your characters and your ships. The others can be ignored and blocked. But the fandom is toxic and its methods are cruel.

Thanks for the excellent Hinny and Ginny defence. You have said all that I have wanted to shout at the top of my lungs. Hope to see the fandom being more mature in future.

[sammys-stupid-stories]

23rd September 2024

El padre sent me a bunch of photos that he was getting rid of so I could sift through them. I figured they were all going to be baby pictures since trying to get pictures from my siblings and I was like pulling teeth in our later years.

For the most part I was right. They were largely pictures of my family before I was born and a few of my baby photos. Going through them dredged up a lot of feelings I wasn't ready to deal with.

It's so weird seeing my parents together and happy, or my brothers getting along- to see them holding me and playing with their baby "sister". There's a picture of my middle brother (B) sleeping on a couch with me and several of my oldest brother (C) pushing me around in a plastic container like one would a toy car.

Then there's the picture of me in overalls hanging from a plant hook from the ceiling because it was easier to leave me there for hours on end instead of taking care of me.

There's one of me standing in front of the same TV stand that my dad would one day put my head through.

Pictures of C playing with our cats, not yet the monster who hanged one from our back porch. Or him and our mother, several years before he held her hostage with a kitchen knife. Before he was beaten by my dad and kicked out for his transgression.

So many pictures have our dad playing with us- one of me standing in his hand as he attempted to balance the baby like one would a vertical stick. That same year CPS would tell us they refused to make visits to us any more after having been called on to investigate our family several times by several different people.

In every holiday and birthday picture, my grandfather is present. The same man who abused his own wife and children was allowed around us all the same. He was even allowed to take us out by ourselves. He had the carrot and stick routine down perfectly by the time I came around. It's hard to hate the man who gives you ice cream and money and shows off magic tricks; especially when the rest of the family is so quick to brush off everything he does.

There's a picture of me playing with my uncle's puppies. Just two years later my mother and him would lock me in his backyard with the same dogs he trained for dog fights.

Jokes on him, I guess. I lost part of a finger, but he lost his legs soon after in an accident.

All of the pictures of my mother and I are from when she could dress me up in pretty dresses and show me off as her daughter. I didn't have the words for it, but even back in my childhood I knew I hated being a girl. I would fight her on everything from then on

One of the pictures shows me with a silver streak in my hair a year after cutting it. Both were heinous transgressions in her book. Both resulted in my punishment.

There's pictures of my mother playing with my little cousin like he was another son to her. Also of her making necklaces with his mother (who married into our family). Only a year later she would go to court calling her an unfit mother and advocating for his custody to remain with his abusive bastard of a deadbeat father. I lost contact with those two and only got to meet again a week before moving states by sheer luck of running into his mom at my workplace and she recognized me. The love and acceptance they showed in our brief lunch that I insisted on treating them to felt so foreign.

There's pictures of me constantly imitating my brother B. He got to wear goth clothing and dye his hair and listen to punk / rock music and I wanted to be like him. I wanted to be funny and cool looking too. I idolized him and it shows. It's odd to think about what happened between the pictures. We have our fucked up history too, but he was the closest to an actual familial relationship. Though he quickly started to pull away and distance himself from us.

The ones that hurt the most to see were the most recent photos. I didn't even know about them nor remembered taking them. It was a family photo session taken in our basement when I was around 14. Both brothers were adults who had been living on their own.

There's 2 that really caught my attention. The first is the three of us sitting on the brick ledge in front of our fireplace. I was in the middle. It was a simple picture, but the one following it had both of them "manspreading" and leaning against me to squish me, much like what they did when we all shared the backseat of a car as children. It's such a mundane picture: just siblings being siblings. And it made me long for that connection. It pained me to know that I don't have any relationship with them anymore.

But also... I never DID have that connection. Not really. C royally fucked up my life and I'm stuck living with severe CPTSD. I know it goes as far back as 5 years old, possibly further but my memory isn't great from there back. Last I saw him, he had found where I worked he tried to stalk me home and when that didn't work he harassed my coworkers, trying to get them to give him my info. I know it was bad because even my drama loving coworker decided against giving him any info, and she HATED me.

Now I'm just left... empty. I miss something I never had. Seeing those pictures drills it in that I have no one anymore. I ran away from my whole family. I only talk to two of my cousins, both far removed from the rest of our family.

I don't even have El Padre. Aside from texting him once every year or so, I'm nothing to him. After their final divorce, he married into a new family- one that's got grandchildren and people who love one another. He made it VERY clear that I wasn't part of his family anymore.

[personinthepalace]

Klickitcast - A Beverly Cleary Podcast

This is a podcast that I accidentally stumbled upon recently. If you enjoyed any of Beverly Cleary’s books, whether it’s Henry Huggins or Beezus and Ramona or Ralph S. Mouse, then I would highly recommend this podcast. The hosts, Phil Gonzales and John McCoy, go through all of her books in chronological order and discuss how the characters and Clearly’s writing develop ed over the years. It’s such a fascinating listen and such a lovely way to reconnect with some childhood stories- I can’t recommend it enough!!

[kuroos-babie]

falling in love with a single mom hcs

INCLUDES: nishinoya, tsukishima, yaku

you spent a good part of your childhood with nishinoya, chasing away the dogs that had a penchant of scaring your best friend shitless, climbing trees and playing treasure hunt

it was funny, to say the least, seeing how he grew from such a scaredy-cat to the energetic and confident noya everyone knows

throughout highschool you watched him chase girl after girl and he watched you turn down guy after guy

the dynamic you two had was that of a feral gremlin child and its chill owner holding the leash and everyone, including you two, thought you would always be together

everyday was fun with nishinoya's energy hanging around you, no doubt

but when he asked you to travel the world with him right after graduation, he was met with a hesitant refusal

"i'm planning to go to college, yuu"

"it'll be fun, y/n! like going on an adventure!!"

"visit me once in a while"

his heart clenched at the way you smiled at him with teary eyes, "i can't change your mind can i?"

with a soft shake of your head, he sighed

he leaves in three days

the first few months of him being away were filled with calls and pictures of his trips, smile seemingly wider and brighter than before and a part of you regretted not coming with him

but college starts in a week, and with that came missed calls and ignored messages

at some point, neither of you just remembered to hit the other up, caught up with the stresses of your own life and before either of you knew it, 5 years have passed

he came to visit home for the first time in years, no longer the boyish noya you knew but he still had that warm aura around him

you were the first thought to come to mind the moment he step foot in town, his whole body buzzing with excitement at the mere thought of seeing you again

so of course he went straight to your house, feet taking step after memorized step and hands clutching bags of things he got from his travels

"Y/N!!!!!", he calls out as he enters your house which was answered with a harsh shushing

turning a corner he saw you in the living room, lovely as ever-- he thought, and with a baby sleeping soundly in your arms, "the baby's sleeping, yuu"

"whose...?"

you laughed at the cracking in his voice, "mine, who else's?"

man, he looked like he was about to cry

he quietly approached you, careful as to not wake the baby

"for you", he mumbled while handing you the bag of snacks and stuff

the room was filled with silence after you hummed a short thanks

he was looking at the child's face, it looked like you, he thinks

he asked when you got married, "you didn't tell me, didn't even invite your best friend to your wedding", he whined

"i didn't, i'm not married"

his eyes were wide as they looked at you

you told him about getting pregnant shortly after college graduation and getting ditched

he thought of himself selfish as he heaved a sigh of relief

"it's fine though, my parents are helping me a lot", he notes how you looked at your baby with such fond eyes and his heart swelled, he felt like crying

you chuckled at the look on his face, "hey don't look so sorry for me, can't be happier to have her"

"what's her name?"

you looked at your daughter's face and pet at her cheek with a finger, "yui"

nishinoya couldn't hold it in anymore and so he let himself cry and pulled you close

and for the nth time since the day of your college graduation he asked you again, "come with me, y/n, let's travel the world" but you have a child "i'll stay with you here until she's old enough", he said while kissing the tears that slipped down your cheeks

"then we can all go travel the world together"

he liked working at the museum, he really does

at least that's what he tries to tell himself as he led the group of preschoolers through the sendai museum

they were cute, yeah, but also very chatty

especially this one little boy with the frog hat

"what's this called?"

"it's a fossilized remain of--"

"how about this one?"

"it's--", and before he could answer, the child was already running to the other side of the exhibit

he just sighs

the tour ended and he was getting ready for his lunch break, proceeding to the cafe by the entrance as he always does

his eyes almost caught the flurry of green that passed beside him but he chose to ignore it

but of course it wasn't long after he sat down with his order when he heard a familiar bubbly voice

"mama that's the dinosaur guy!", he heard the little boy whisper loudly, "he's so tall, like a brachiosaurus!"

he couldn't supress the chuckle at the child's remark and he turned in his seat, "so you were listening, i thought you were just bouncing all around the place"

"oh sorry, did he give you a hard time?"

your voice drew his attention and he smiled at the sight of your worried face, something that surprised even him, "not really, no"

he invited you two to sit and eat with him and he listened to your son ramble all about dinosaurs and prehistoric animals

"a smart one, i like him"

your son really liked him too and asked you to take him to the museum again and see tsukishima

and so it became a habit for you to visit the museum every friday with the little boy, waiting for the tall blonde to get off work so you three could grab something to eat

and every time he sees you in the little cafe by the entrancne with your son, tsukishima couldn't help but smile a little and pat at his chest to calm the subtle fluttering as he push the door open

it was a weird feeling he never knew would come so naturally at the mere sight of you two

he bought your son picture books and and figurines and copies of the "walking with dinosaurs" documentary

"we should watch it this weekend..." his eyebrows shot up for a moment at your meek suggestion

of course the little boy was elated, excited to have him over at your house "yes! let's go now! i wanna watch it with tsukki now!!!"

tsukishima returned his gaze on you, "if it's not too much trouble then i'd love to go now"

and so the rest of the friday night was spent on your couch with all the lights turned off and a narration of al the allosaurus' life

you looked over at the other side of the couch to see your son laying on tsukishima, eyes fluttering shut with the man passed out and lightly snoring

he must've been tired

you draped a blanket over the two of them and waited for sleep to visit you too and it soon did

morning came and you woke up to the smell of coffee

"i borrowed your coffee maker, i hope you don't mind", his voice was still low, trying not to wake the little boy

"yeah, sorry i didn't wake you up last night... you looked tired"

he chuckled as you walked over to the kitchen to take out two mugs and prepared some toast, "i don't mind, it was the best sleep i've gotten in a while. i hope it wasn't too much of a bother for you though"

you leaned on the kitchen counter as you took in his appearance; hair ruffled and eyes puffy with sleep, "i don't mind it one bit"

he huffed a laugh and looked over to the sofa where your son still laid

"he likes you a lot"

"so it seems, i hope you do too", his face was smug but you didn't miss the red that tinted his cheeks when you told him "of course i do, in fact i was thinking maybe we should do this more often"

his smirk grew, "just say you want to wake up everyday to the sight of me and leave it at that"

you rolled your eyes at his comment but smiled nonetheless, "oh shut up"

he had just come back from the nekoma volleyball team reunion, head lightly buzzing from the few bottles of alcohol kuroo forced down his throat

making his way through the carpeted hotel hall, he could barely make out the sound of little feet hurriedly padding on the floor and quiet sniffles

taking out the keycard to his room with the blissful thoughts of finally sinking into the soft mattress was interrupted by a soft bump on his thigh, a muffled thud and a small "ow..."

it took a few moments before the sight of the little boy on the hotel floor registered properly in his brain

it was well past 2 am... why the hell is there a child running around the halls

"uh... hi?"

big bright eyes looked up at him and he can't help but sigh at the sniffles increasingly growing louder

"where's your mama, little guy?", yaku crouched to the little boy's level, careful to keep his balance as the booze and exhaustion was catching up to him

however, at the mention of his mother, the little boy's eye filled up with more tears and was ready to burst anytime, "mama..."

"oh no no no no"

yaku's too tired for this

so with a sigh and a groan, he took the boy in his arms and entered his room

"let's look for her in the morning, okay? i think i still have some cookies in my room, would like some?"

the little boy nods his head, earning a relieved sigh from yaku

the rest of the night was spent with cartoons playing on the large hotel room tv, yaku leaning against the headboard with the little boy snoozing away while being tucked in his arm, cookie on his hand and crumbs all around

morning came and panic surged through your body the moment you realized your 3 year-old son was nowhere inside your hotel room

your hurried to the security desk to report and hopefully make an announcement, head reeling and aching with the sudden rush of adrenaline first thing in the morning

with your head in your hands, you let out a groan while trying not to cry at all the possibilites flashing through your mind

your wallowing was cut short with an "excuse me, i found this child last night"

turning your head back to the security desk, you see a man in his pajamas and slippers, hair ruffled from sleep and a sleepy little boy laying on his shoulder

"oh my god"

the whole conlict ended when you came up to them and introduced yourself, the little boy quickly recognizing your voice and whipped his head over to you, "mama!"

your son reached out for you and yaku couldn't help but notice how pretty your glossy eyes were despite how disheveled you looked

"mama, yakkun gave me cookies and we watched cartoons aaaaall night!"

yaku's eyes widened at the little boy's words and let out a nervous chuckle, "you make me sound so suspicious"

he turned to you and explained how your son bumped into him at 2 am and he was just too tired to bring him down to the security desk

"my tired tipsy brain thought it was a better idea to just let him sleep in my room and look for mama in the morning", he ended with the tips of his ears tinged red

you laughed at his nervousness, "well we can talk more about it over breakfast, what do you say yakkun? my treat"

with the way you were smiling at him, how could he even refuse?

the rest of the morning was spent with coffee and waffles, juice and fruits and chatter

he learned you and your son were in town for a few days, "i wanted to go see the fishies in the aquarium!", the little boy quips

with the new volleyball season just around the corner, yaku knew he'd have practices but he offered to tour you two around tokyo

he wanted to see you two again

briefly taking care of the toddler last night and having breakfast with you, he realized, were very much a welcomed change of pace in his hectic pro volleyball life

"are you my dad? mama told me daddy was working in tokyo" he remembered your son quietly mumbling last night, "i haven't seen him though, not ever"

the rest of your stay in tokyo was spent hanging out with yaku, your son growing more and more attached to him and slept over at his room every night

as promised, he took you and your son on a tokyo tour and even brought you to practice, introducing you to the national team and teaching your child receives

of course your trip eventually reached its end, promises of meeting again drowned in the little boy's tears as he tried to reach out to yaku

"we'll meet again, little guy", he says while ruffling the boy's hair, "i'll even go visit you and we'll play lots, okay?

of course he made a point of contacting you frequently, often video chatting during meal times and bedtime and a few more hours after, relishing in the time he could spend talking alone with you

"i can't wait to see you two again", he always says right after "good night"

taglist: @churochuu @bakarinnie @faithieeee @strawberriimilkshake @paulazockt @pattys-got-cakes @hidden-otaku-stuff @haikyuubabie @sachirou-senpai @your-local-abyss @stcrryskies @toosaltyforacookie @mrs-kuroojinguji @shawkneecaps @miyastrology @galacticstxrdust @wakaushi @boosyboo9206 @sugawara-sweetheart @threeconsecutivefs @chichibia @diyosku @curiouslilbeast @cowbeboppy @tsukkaria @yyvveess @kirakirasaku

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[vbpotter]

Mafoy (James Potter x Reader) Pt.2

Part 1 

A/n : Y/m/n stands for ‘Your Marauders nickname’

Also - Requests are open <3

" Sirius , Who is she ?" Harry asked as he came upon a Picture of the Marauders and Lily with a girl . The girl had always been in most of the pictures , but Harry never asked anyone about who she was . 

Sirius Froze as he turned around to face Harry , his face expressionless . 

The duo was currently sat in Sirius's room at Number 12. Grimmauld Place , Harry was going through pictures Sirius showed him as Sirius cleaned his room and told Harry about the story behind every moving Picture .

Sirius came up to sit beside Harry . Sirius gently took the picture in his hands staring at it .

It was one of Sirius's favorite pictures (Mainly because it didn't have the rat in it ) . This picture was taken on James and Lily's Wedding Day . Sirius - The Best Man- had his glass of Firewhiskey raised in the air , Remus was standing as the Gentleman he was - a large smile on his face . Then there were Lily and James , beside each other - not looking at the camera but into each others eyes . And then finally , It was Her. She stood there happily , her outfit very different than the others . While the Others wore suits and dresses , she stood there in a  sleeveless yellow floral summer dress . She looked effortlessly amazing . She stood out from the crowd , and her charming smile playing on her lips was just a plus factor to her beauty . Though , if you looked closely , her eyes were slightly glassy , Sirius couldn't figure out if they were tears of Joy or Sadness . But , he later realized that it was probably both . 

" Y/m/n"  Sirius whispered 

" Wait ... the fifth member of your group you never told me anything about ?" Harry asked and Sirius nodded , tears swimming at the brim of his eyes. 

" Tell me something about her " Harry said , his voice commanding and confused . No one ever told him anything about this new girl , and he didn't know why .

" Y/n Malfoy .......Yes Harry , Y/n Malfoy . Lucious Malfoy's younger sister " Sirius added , seeing Harry's shocked state.

" She was a Gryffindor..........And a Blood traitor in her family's books , much like me . She was the most beautiful person inside out , I have met till this date . She was the one who kept held us all through our dark times , she was the one trying to keep others happy , giving every piece of her to us . She was our little ball of sunshine, who lived in darkness , but none of us knew . Sometimes, guilt courses through me Harry , realizing that we could have saved her ....But looks like I failed in this , J-just like I did in everything" Sirius said , his voice cracking .

" She was tortured at home , Harry , mercilessly . She never told us , just to make sure we weren't worried . Her parents hated her , she was left in the shadows , the dark lord wanted her , she was broken .And to top all of it up , The Boy she loved never loved her back . He couldn't see how beautiful she was ,he never saw how strong she was , Never . Hell , she didn’t even need help to kick ones arse. But The Boy she loved , that one was blind , he was blinded by someone else and failed to notice that he had the perfect person right in front of him ." Sirius said as he tried to hold his tears in .

" She must have been a wonderful Person . The Boy was a bloody idiot , I am pretty sure about that " Harry said , though he was surprised when Sirius gave a shaky chuckle.

"Do you realize that you just called your dad a bloody idiot ?" Sirius asked . Harry sat there for a moment in confusion , that was until realization hit him.

But,before he could say anything else, Sirius continued .

" You know Harry , A part of loving someone truly is being happy in their happiness . Being Happy when they are happy and carrying them when they are sad . A part of Loving someone is accepting , accepting that you will be happy even if they didn't chose you . These things were accepted by her , unlike someone else " Sirius said and he basically spat the last part out for a reason Harry did not know, yet . 

"She accepted the rules of love, Harry . She did everything in her power to keep the people she loved Happy , even it meant loosing her own . And then there is the harsh reality that she was killed by her own brother" Sirius said , and a look of loathe crossed his face . Harry sat silently , taking everything in .

"I clearly remember it . We were on an Order mission , it was the most horrible we had ever been to . Spells here and there , glass shattering ,walls blasting , everything being destroyed . That was when Malfoy's hood fell off and he decided that it was enough . He caught sight of Lily , the only muggleborn in our group and sent the killing curse her way " Sirius said and Harry let a sharp intake of breathe .

" It all happened so  quickly that we were hardly able to notice it . I remember it . A loud shout of "Lily!" and then a flash of blinding green light and then a thud . And the next thing I know when I  turn around is Y/n . Her lifeless body laying on the Floor , scratches on her face and body , her lips slightly agape . But what made me scream was her eyes . Those beautiful E/c eyes looked calm and peaceful . I had seen them sad , broken , happy and cheerful , even angry .........But never so calm . It was as if s-she had f-finally found peace .......It was as if she was finally content . It was - " Sirius said , his voice breaking as tears finally started pouring form his eyes . 

"The death eaters Fled after that , and Malfoy , he didn't even glance at his dead sister . " Sirius wanted to continue , but , was cut off by Harry .

" What - What was My D-Dad's reaction ?" Harry asked hesitantly . Sirius exhaled shakily.

"James ...........He was broken.....Didn't even talk to anyone , not even Lily........Until......" Sirius said trailing off 

"Until?" Harry asked.

"Until a week later . A week after the attack , when everyone was still shook , It was revealed that Lily was 6 weeks pregnant with you ....." Sirius said .

"What?" Harry whispered .

"Hmmm..........That night , Y/n not only saved Lily , But she unknowingly saved you too , Harry . James , he was the happiest we had seen that week after that " Sirius said .

" If she was alive.........She would have taken care of you like her own son , if not better . Partly because You are James's son . But , the bigger reason being that you had spent your childhood without love , something she knew exactly how it felt like . " Sirius said , sniffing . There was another large Muffled sob echoing the room . It wasn't from Sirius, though .

Harry's head snapped towards the door , where Remus was leaning against the door , crying into his sleeves . 

"James and Lily did love each other, Harry. But for us , It was always James and Y/n ........." Remus said , his voice a muffled sob . Though , Harry wasn't listening . He didn't even know when Sirius and Remus left the room . 

As he sat there , staring at the young and beautiful girl on the photo, he realized that he had been saved by a person's love more than once .

[missymurphy1985]

The Writer (Tommy Shelby X Fem.Reader) - Part One

Warning - SMUT (eventually)

Request? Yes

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @heidimoreton

You looked in the mirror, straightening out your dress and taking a deep breath. Your boss David, who also happened to be your older brother, had arranged a meeting with you in the offices of the Birmingham Herald at 6pm sharp.

On the way there, you couldn't help but marvel at how you'd ended up here. Your husband had died two years after returning from war having suffered severe injuries, and after you'd taken on his job at the Herald while he was away fighting, falling ill on his return and subsequently dying, your brother, the editor, had kept you on so you weren't destitute. It was against all the principles of the time, a woman working, but your brother never once allowed the other men at the newspaper to talk down to you. You were the best storyteller and strongest journalist they had on the books and he would always have your back. The other men had grown to look at you as a sister almost - you were blessed to be in the position you were in.

Arriving at the Herald, you made your way to David's office.

"Y/n, I'm sorry to call you in this evening..." He smiled, embracing you and offering you a whiskey which you gladly accepted.

"I never have evening plans David, you know that. What was so important it couldn't wait til morning?"

"We've had an incredible offer and I want you to be the one to report it. The story is made for you."

"What is it?"

"Thomas Shelby has agreed to an article on his life to date!"

"Thomas Shelby? As in the Peaky Blinders?! Not a fucking chance David..." You recoiled in horror. You knew the man's history very well, you'd gone to school with his younger brother John and the stories of the Peaky Blinders were infamous. You hated the man - the thought of interviewing him mad your stomach turn.

"This story could launch your career into the big time Y/n! Think about it! The most secretive, elusive man in the country wants to tell his story to you!"

"To the Herald."

"No, y/n, to YOU. He asked for you. By name."

"How the hell does he know my name?" You'd written your articles under a male pen name so as not to distract readers from the content. Not all men were as modern as your brother and coworkers.

"No idea, but he specifically asked for you."

You mind turned - no one knew you worked at the Herald. You'd kept yourself to yourself, even moving out of Small Heath after your husband passed away. You'd lost touch with John just before he went off to war. There was no connection to the Shelby family at all.

"The reason I dragged you in at 6pm is because he wants to make a start today. This evening actually, there's a car picking you up in 30 minutes."

"David!! I can't do this interview for goodness sake, I'm not even close to prepared!"

"You have 30 minutes! Pull your finger out!" He laughed.

You'd crammed as much as possible in that 30 minutes as you could - your mind was whirring at 70miles per hour when the silver Bentley pulled up outside. Glaring at David, who simply smirked in response, you got in the car as the driver greeted you.

"Arrow House ma'am, won't take long to get there," the driver smiled as you asked him where he was taking you. Arrow House? His home? Why would the most secretive man in Birmingham want to meet you in his sanctuary?

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

Pulling up outside the huge mansion, you couldn't help but be impressed. The gardens were immaculate.

A middle aged lady greeted you at the front door and offered to take your coat. You smiled and handed it over, as she led you through to the dining room. You took the seat she offered.

"Would you like some tea Ms. Y/L/N?" You nodded, and she signalled one of the younger maids to action.

"Mr Shelby will be with you in a moment, please make yourself comfortable," the lady smiled warmly and headed out the door with your coat. You looked around the room. A large painting on one wall of the man himself with a large horse. There was a smaller picture on a cabinet just underneath that caught your eye. A beautiful blond woman, with piercing eyes and a loving smile, holding a small boy in her arms. You didn't know Thomas was married, let alone had a son. The house didn't seem to have much of a feminine feel to it though, it was borderline drab in its decor.

"My wife, Grace. And my son Charles." A voice behind you startled you, and you turned to see Thomas himself walking towards you, a glass of whiskey in one hand, a cigarette in the other.

"She's beautiful, Mr Shelby. And your son is adorable," you smiled, but he didn't return it.

"She certainly was." Your eyes grew wide as the realisation of what he'd said sunk in.

"Oh I'm sorry -"

"No need. It was a long time ago. Shall we get this over with Ms Y/L/N?" You nodded and he led you out of the dining room into a smaller one - clearly an office. The large oak desk sprawled out in front of the bay window. You took your seat opposite his at the desk and pulled out your pen and pad as he poured himself another whiskey. You shook your head when he offered you one, drinking the tea the young maid have brought in to you instead.

Your questions for him were simple at first. You asked about his childhood in Small Heath. His schooling. His childhood friends. Pretty much all one word answers, driving you insane, until you asked about his brothers.

"You knew John, didn't you?" He asked.

"Yes. Same year at school."

"Sadly, he's no longer with us. Shot by the Italians last year." You heart dropped - you heard through the grapevine that John had children and a wife and the news hit you like a freight train. You took a breath and a moment to compose yourself.

"I'm so sorry Mr Shelby..."

"I'm sorry too, I didn't realise you were so close?"

"We were close before the war. Lost touch after that."

"I don't remember seeing you with him?"

"My father wouldn't let me see him, so we had to be careful.."

"You and John were..."

"No no.. god no! Just friends Mr Shelby." He went quiet again, and sipped his whiskey.

Back to the questions. Mundane as they were, you needed them to get the full story. He wasn't forthcoming with the details. You had to really press him, but he spent most of his time drinking his whiskey and looking out of the window at the dark clouds rolling in outside.

"Listen, Mr Shelby, you clearly don't want this any more than I do so please, if you don't mind, I'd like to end the interview here." Your voice was stern, patience had officially gone out of the window he was so fixated with.

"Jack said you were feisty." You froze at mention of your late husband's name.

"How did you know Jack?"

"We served together in France. Good man."

"Is that how you knew my name?" He didn't answer, just nodded, again watching the weather changing quickly outside.

"Storm looks bad."

"If I leave now I should be fine." The first rumble of thunder made you jump, Tommy noticed your fear instantly.

"Scared of storms?"

"They used to scare Jack.." a second rumble had you grasping onto the chair.

"Stay until it passes." Was that a request or an order.. you weren't sure but he took your hand gently and led you into the hallway away from the window, into the main dining room again.

"Frances, have the curtains closed please." He spoke to the older woman who greeted you at the door and she dutifully obliged, closing the curtains in the large windows.

Tommy sat you at the table and gave you his glass of whiskey, your shaky hands accepting it this time. Every thunderstorm brought flashbacks of Jack's terror filled eyes.. his anguished cries of pain.. and ultimately the sound of the gun he placed at his temple before he took his own life. You took a sip of the warm liquid as Tommy sat beside you, a fresh glass of his own in his hand.

"Jack saved my life."

"He did?"

"Yes. We were underground digging.. we could hear the Germans on the other side of the dirt digging towards us... They broke through first and grabbed me. Jack beat them to death with his hammer to get them off me." Tommy's memory made you smile, and you laughed gently.

"He was always brave.. and strong. Put everyone else first. He never told me.."

"He never wanted praise, it was just part of his job. In return.. I said if anything happened to him I would make sure you were looked after."

"What?"

"The men at your office? They're under my watch. They respect you because you're a damn good writer, but they also know if they gave you any shit..." He raised his eyebrow and you couldn't help but smile. Even after his death, he was making sure you were okay. That was the Jack you wanted to remember.

"In that case Mr Shelby, I thank you."

"Call me Tommy eh? Here's to the bravest man in France." He clinked his glass with yours and you felt him almost begin to relax.

"I noticed a piano in the hall - do you play?"

"I did as a boy. My mother was a keen player, I used to watch her all the time. Gave it up after she died."

"I played for Jack all the time. It soothed him when he couldn't sleep." He smiled, a warm genuine smile that you couldn't help but return.

You'd spent the evening drinking whiskey and talking with Tommy, the whiskey hitting you much quicker than it did him, and you could feel your eyelids growing heavier.

"I have a spare room upstairs y/n, maybe stay tonight, I'll have my driver take you home in the morning." He stood before you had chance to argue and you followed him up the stairs.

He led you into a beautiful bedroom, the decor in here much more appealing than downstairs and the large oak double bed even more so.

"I don't want to impose Thomas..."

"That storm isn't letting up any time soon, and you're exhausted. You're welcome to stay. There's fresh clothes in the wardrobe. My wife was the same build as you, they should fit. I'll have my driver take you home at 7am. Goodnight Y/n..." His blue eyes lingered on yours a moment and you felt a rush of something you hadn't felt in a long time... Scaring you. Quickly looking away, you bid him goodnight.

[jaskiers-sweetkiss]

Coffee Shop Kisses

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Request: something soft with Yelena from @bright-molina

Summary: After moving back to her small Ohio hometown, the reader bumps into an old friend at her favorite coffee shop.

Warnings: none ?

A/N: Happy incredibly belated Birthday Bianca!!! Sorry this took so long for me to write but I really hope you like it!! This fic has everything: the gays, some light pinning, and chai lattes !

Masterlist

___

You couldn’t believe you were back in your small Ohio hometown. When you moved away after high school it was never your intention to come back but clearly, fate didn’t have the same plans as you drove through your childhood neighborhood.

It was nostalgic, driving through the familiar streets despite the changes in the neighborhood since your childhood. While the houses had mostly remained the same, you knew many of their occupants had changed. The Browns no longer lived in the house two doors down from yours, having retired to Florida not long after their children had moved out, and many other family’s you’d known growing up had followed suit. Others had downsized to smaller houses in other parts of the city, no longer needing the extra space. Now the neighborhood was filled with new families, young parents taking advantage of the location to raise their children.

Still, the atmosphere was largely the same, and if you let yourself you could almost imagine that the kids playing in the front yards and the street or biking through the neighborhood, calling out to friends as they passed, were the kids you’d grown up with.

It was strange, being back home. It felt stranger still to call it “home.”

It didn’t take long for you to fall back into a routine, despite the lingering nostalgia. You woke up every morning with just enough time to get ready and drive downtown to work, if you were lucky you’d end up with a few extra minutes to stop into your favorite coffee shop from your teenage years, which was conveniently located a couple doors down from your office. It was simple, sure, but it worked for you.

On the weekends you always made a point to walk to that downtown coffee shop with a book or some other activity, preferring the ambiance and the subtle noise of the building and its other patrons over the still silence of your house. Plus they had amazing drinks so you really couldn’t lose.

Normally you enjoyed taking in the hustle and bustle of the small town around you as people completed their weekly errands, but that day you were lost in your head as you walked along the sidewalk. It wasn’t as if you were thinking about anything in particular (when reflecting back later you’d merely blame it on having had a long week at work), but rather than enjoy the people watching as you normally would, you let them all pass you by without a single glance, all the way down the street and into the line at your coffee shop. You ordered your usual without much fanfare, still having the presence of mind to drop your change into the tip jar on the counter. It wasn’t until you had gotten your drink that you were thrust out of your thoughts, quite literally.

You had only just turned around from the counter, about to start scanning the cafe for a seat when you were knocked to the ground, your drink spilling in your hands.

“Oh my god, are you alright?” Disoriented and still in a haze, the thick Russian accent of the woman who had spoken caught your attention.

A hand reached down into your line of sight and you took it gratefully, managing to keep the pitiful drops of unspilled chai latte in your cup as you were pulled to your feet.

“Let me buy you a new drink,” she offered though you barely heard her.

Now that you were back on your feet you got a better look at the woman who had bumped into you. She was of average height and had her blonde hair pulled into a double ponytail. You didn’t know any Russians but you could’ve sworn you’d met before.

“Do I know you?” You blurted out before you could think and the other woman blinked at you in surprise, brows lifting slightly.

“Perhaps,” she shrugged, “I used to live around here when I was younger.”

You narrowed your eyes at that, certain you would’ve remembered growing up alongside a Russian family, everyone you remembered was as American as they come. It was a small town in Ohio, after all.

“So did I,” you spoke slowly, still trying to ponder it out in your head. “Over on Brown.”

Her eyes narrowed at that, now scrutinizing you as well.

“I grew up on State Street.”

That’s when it clicked for you. You remembered them; family of four, two daughters. Natasha used to ride her bike down your street all the time which meant the woman in front of you must be…

“Yelena?”

“You remember me?”

“Yeah, holy shit! Your sister rode her bike through my mom’s flowers one time by accident, pissed her off for the whole summer. Plus, we went to preschool together.”

“Wait, Y/N Y/L/N?”

“In the flesh,” you replied, spreading your arms out dramatically.

Yelena took that as an invitation to really study you then, eyes flitting up and down as she fully took you in.

“You grew up quite nicely,” she spoke, tone appreciative and you found yourself blushing.

“I- I could say the same thing about you,” you stumbled over your words, feeling flustered. “I don’t remember you being Russian.”

You mentally cursed yourself for once again blurting something out before you could even think about it.

Yelena laughed at that and you couldn’t help but find yourself smiling at the sound. She had a cute laugh. It was fitting.

“Yes, well, my ‘family' and I were actually part of a Russian spy organization, sent to infiltrate a nearby SHIELD facility for some information, so,” she shrugged and you laughed at first, assuming she was joking before you realized she wasn’t laughing along.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Why would I lie?”

You fumbled around with your words at that, unable to come up with a proper response but feeling as though you needed to say something anyway.

“How about I buy you a drink and you tell me about it?” You finally settled on saying and Yelena’s brows lifted again in surprise.

“Sure, but I’m buying the drinks. I owe you for spilling your first one.”

You nodded in agreement, somehow having forgotten all about your spilled drink in the excitement of reconnecting with an old friend. An old friend who was very attractive, if you were being fully honest with yourself.

With new drinks ordered and retrieved, the two of you made your way to a small table by the front window of the cafe. True to your agreement, Yelena explained to you that her “family” when she’d lived in Ohio wasn’t actually her family at all, the entire thing fabricated for their mission, and that after their success she continued to work for the organization before finally getting out as an adult. She skimmed on a lot of the details but you got the sense that the entire ordeal was traumatic for her so you didn’t press. Though, you were quite amazed that the woman across from you (and the tiny blonde girl you’d played dolls with as a kid) was a former spy and assassin. In comparison, your own life story was much less exciting, though you guessed it also held much less trauma as well. Still, Yelena asked and she listened intently as you explained how you’d wound up back in your hometown all these years later.

After that, the conversation seemed to flow seamlessly from one topic to another, and it was so nice to talk to a friend and catch up that you didn’t even realize how much time had passed until you went to take a sip from your long-forgotten chai and found it ice cold. You checked your phone and were surprised to see that nearly two hours had passed and while you were planning on spending much longer at the cafe anyway, it still caught you off guard.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I keeping you from something?” Yelena asked, having noticed you checking the time.

“No!” You rushed to reassure her before flushing slightly at the knee-jerk reaction. “No, I just hadn’t realized how much time has passed. It’s been really nice to see you.”

“It’s been nice to see you too, perhaps we can do this again sometime?”

“I’d like that a lot.” You tried to fight the heat that you felt rushing to your cheeks once more. You weren’t sure if she meant it the same way you did.

“Me too,” she replied softly, ducking her head so that her face was out of view. “I actually do have to get going but maybe we can meet here again next week?”

“Absolutely!” You nodded, trying not to seem too eager and failing miserably. “It’s a date.”

Once again the words slipped out on their own accord and you were left scrambling to do damage control.

“I- I mean like, y’know-”

“A date is good,” Yelena cut you off with a smirk, though you could’ve sworn you could see your own nerves reflected in her eyes.

“A date then,” you agreed, flashing a nervous smile.

“Goodbye, Y/N.” She stood from her chair with a smile, pausing on her way to the door to press a quick peck to your cheek, and then she was gone.

You sat there, still as a statue, for quite some time afterward, your fingertips lightly grazing over where Yelena’s lips had been moments before. You really loved this coffee shop.

[after-witch]

Close to My Heart [Baby Mine Part 3] [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: Close to My Heart [Baby Mine Part 3] [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: He’s drugging you again. The bastard. 

Word Count:

Notes: yandere, stockholm syndrome, medical/drug content

He’s drugging you again. The bastard. The world is too much--too bright, too empty, too heavy and thick. The drugs he’s giving you make you sleepy, slow, heavy. 

And the room you’re in is so empty. Bare walls and a bed and an overhead light. The familiarity--scenes of years ago, of weeks spent in a room just like this one--is gutting. You miss the side table next to your bed with your books and notepad; you miss glancing into your daughter’s bedroom before walking downstairs to get a glass of water in the middle of the night. You miss your daughter. 

You don’t know how long these things have been gone, only that they are gone, leaving you with nothing in their stead.

Nothing but him, anyway.

He’s sitting on the end of your bed again. Staring down at you, mask on, eyes piercing even through the heaviness surrounding you. Your arms aren’t restrained anymore, but every time you move, it’s clear why he isn’t bothering: with all the drowsy-inducing sedatives built up in your system, you couldn’t muster an effective attack even if you tried.

And you’ve tried.

“How are you feeling?”

The same questions, every morning.

You press your lips together and smack them. Your throat is dry. You hope he brought your water cup. It’s the least he could do.

“Where’s my daughter?” You say, finally, voice dry and hoarse.

He doesn’t miss a beat.

“She’s safe. How are you feeling?”

“Let me see her.”

He shakes his head, a small, imperceptible motion.

“Not until you’re better. How are you feeling?”

His voice never loses its smooth, authoritative edge. You can’t say you missed this, missed the way he talked down to you like you were some weak little thing that doesn’t know right from wrong.

You lean back on your elbows, forcing your head to lift up enough to look him in the eyes. You try to muster an expression of disdain, but you don’t know if it’s registering anywhere but your own mind.

“Like shit. Fuck you, by the way.” You can’t help but take the tiniest bits of satisfaction where you can, and it doesn’t matter that your voice is hoarse and your arms are trembling and that you’re drugged to shit, because it gets a reaction fro him.

A small reaction, but still. His lips purse in a frown.

“Dear,” he says, oh-so-disappointed. “Your language.”

You let your arms give way, falling back against the pillow with a laugh that hurts your chest. Potty mouth, you think, I’m such a potty mouth. What did you read one time, some novel set in the American Midwest--better put a dollar in the swear jar.

“Stop being difficult.”

You snort.

Your head stays where it is, eyes following him as he retrieves a tray he set on the only other piece of furniture in the room: a bolted down chair, padded like a marshmallow. You’ve been tempted to point it out, tempted to ask him if he thinks you’ll try to smash your head open on a normal chair--why not pad your bed then, too? But he might just stick you in a straightjacket or something equally restricting if you so much as make a joke about harming yourself, so you don’t.

A rumbling, empty feeling in your stomach, the scratchiness of your dry throat, destroys any temptation to goad him more. He’s not above making you wait for food if you’re being testy, though you don’t think he’d go so far as to actually starve you. Just deprive you a bit, like he has a few times this week. So you force yourself to simply sit quietly and watch as he brings the tray to your bed, unfolding the little legs and placing it down in front of you.

He lifts up the cup of lukewarm water, a large blue cup you recognize from the kitchen. The little white straw peaking out of the top bounces around until you catch it with your lips. You barely listen to his words--’just a few sips, dear’--and try to ignore the tight, tingly feeling all this gives you.

Prickling humiliation, vaguely colored with childhood memories of hospital stays that made you feel helpless and alone, washes over you every time he gives you something to eat or drink. He always insists on holding the cup, on making you use a thin plastic straw--small sips only. He cuts up your food into tiny bites and only gives you a plastic spoon to eat with.

You dimly remember him feeding you thin broth some time ago, spoon knocking against your teeth every time you moved your head; but that was when your sedative dose was higher and stronger and you were so conked out of your mind that you kept calling him a doctor.

But you’ve graduated to rice and overcooked, bland vegetable that you can eat with a spoon. You know who he is, all the time, which honestly makes things a bit worse than when your stuffy mind thought he was someone else. Hooray.

Your fingers tremble as you press your spoon against the lumpy mash of vegetables. You can’t decide if he’s overcooking them on purpose or if he simply stinks at cooking now, having surely been years out of practice. They look even lumpier than normal, covered in a thick sauce; you bite down the urge to snarkily ask him if the sodium content from such a sauce is appropriate for your delicate health.

You’ve been his little home chef for how long now? Whipping up desserts and dinners like it was your profession. Whipping them up with a smile. And, before the birth of your daughter changed everything, whipping them up with a bright anxiety brimming underneath--anxiety for his approval. Did he like it? Was it too salty? The rice was cooked fine, wasn’t it?

And it wasn’t just the food, no. You’d wanted to please him in everything. In the way you cleaned, in the way you dressed, in the way you tried to soothe him after he’d clearly had a rough day while you sat at home, comparatively comfortable, reading books or fussing with the kitchen curtains again.

But true, honest (disgusting, dark, deep-seated) thoughts of pleasing him have been the furthest thing from your mind for years now. You allowed only the vainest of surface pleasantries to remain, for the sake of pretense, for the sake of getting away with the loving act long enough to get the two of you as far away as possible. Long enough to see yourself and your daughter free and happy, creating a new life--somewhere. Anywhere.

Well, look at you now.

A tear drips down onto your tray, running past your lips, warm and salty. The sight of the tear mingled with the smushed vegetables does it, brings you over the edge, and your shoulders shake helplessly as you begin to cry. You can already feel the exhaustion sweeping over you--the mere act of sitting up and crying and feeling something, feeling something so sad, means you’ll be out like a light soon. Your emotions feel so muted lately--the sedatives?--and when you do feel them, it’s so, so tiring.

His gloved hand brushes your cheek, brushes at your tear, and flinch away. You stare at the floor, white, bare. Rugs are a tripping hazard, you assume. Or maybe he wants to drive you crazy with all the light colors, the creams and eggshells and just-barely-there pale greys. 

You sigh, and look back at your tray. Your stomach demands it, so you lift up a spoonful of muddy-colored vegetables and take a bite. Despite your best efforts, the plastic spoon clinks against your teeth anyway. On your next bite, you go slower, steadying your hands--sometimes he insists on feeding you himself, if you mess up enough. You don’t think you have the energy left today to deal with that. So you eat, slow. Carefully. He doesn’t speak, simply watching as the plate of food, the vegetables and rice, slowly disappear inside you.

The sauce is salty and the vegetables are mush, but the rice is fine and you only wish there was more of it so you could stomach the vegetables more readily.

When you’re done, he holds the cup again, positioning the straw near your lips. You sip a little faster, greedy and thirsty, until there’s nothing left inside.

His eyes practically light up at the empty tray, and as he’s taking it away you leans in closer, whispering through his mask, “Good girl.”

Your stomach churns. Maybe the vegetables had gone bad. Or maybe hearing him voice praise that would have made your heart flutter before is making you feel sick.

After he sets the tray to the side, he takes his place--this time not at the end of your bed, but on the side, unnervingly close to you. You watch as he slides his hands behind his ears, slipping off his mask and setting it down on top of your bedspread.

But then he just… watches you.

You’re about to ask him what he wants, tell him to just spit it out already, tell him to fuck off if he’s just going to be a creeper who stares at you, when you feel something. Something different. A blooming, a wave, a strange feeling coming from inside your skin. Bone-deep, blood-deep.

And it’s then that you realize that he’s drugged the food with something new. Something strong. Something that does more than make you sleepy, like the stuff he injects into your arm.

Oh the fucker. Fucker, fucker, fucker. You feel it taking effect like a slow-going tide, radiating through your body. Tingles, light and airy, taking all of the sadness and stress and hate balled up inside you; soaking them up like a towel, until all that’s left inside you is a blissful feeling of forced relaxation.

“What did you do?” You ask, though it comes out as a whisper. Your head lolls a bit to the side. Was your pillow always so soft? You blink away that thought, try to focus on what’s happening: he put more drugs in the food, he put something in the food that’s not just to make you sleep and now your body is tingling.

He takes your hands in his--you dimly realize that you should pull away, but why bother? His grip helps your hands feel less floaty, anyway--and gives a firm squeeze.

“I know you’re still in there. That… untoward behavior with our daughter, none of that was really you.”

You smile. There’s a brief flicker of lightness in his eyes, but when you speak it flies away.

“You don’t know me,” you say, voice free of the snark and bite from earlier, but clearly grating to his ears all the same. 

Chisaki leans forward, and in your relaxed state you don’t attempt to move away. You simply register the closeness and focus on the way your body, your mind, is slowly deflating.

He squeezes your hands tighter. Too tight. They won’t float away, for sure.

“We’ve lived together for years. We’ve shared the same bed. We have a child together. You think I don’t know you?”

You whine--you don’t mean to, not necessarily, but your chest and lungs and throat aren’t cooperating. They’re too light for the sound you wanted to make, a guttural low sound from somewhere inside. Instead it comes across as childish and helpless and you suppose, that’s what you are.

“Lived together…” You laugh, shaking your head against the soft pillow. “But you kidnapped me.” He did, didn’t he, all those years ago. From a life you barely remember, especially right now; from people whose faces are scrubbed from your memory by time and trauma.

His fingers are stroking your hands now. It feels nice--it almost tickles. But the softness of the strokes, the way they tickle the tops of your hands, contrasts against his voice, firm, controlled, a touch of anger brushing underneath.

“I gave you a home. I indulged you in your interests, your hobbies, however silly. I gave you a family. Don’t act ungrateful.”

“M’not,” you mumble, reflexive more than reflecting. Trying to think about what he’s saying is hard, and getting harder by the minute. The tingling has now draped over your head and your thoughts are wrapped in cotton, thick and fluffy. You wish he’d talk softer. Everything else is calm, and the edge of something dark in his voice feels amplified a thousandfold.

“Look at me.” His voice is still too harsh. Maybe you should pet his hands to see if it helps, like it helped yours stay intact.

Before you can do anything, he speaks again.

“Don’t you love our daughter?”

Your head turns too quickly to look up at him, and you’re dizzy, but the words tumble out of your hoarse throat anyway.

“Yes. Oh, yes. You know I do.”

You may not remember the faces of others (your mother, your friends, your mother) but you remember your daughter’s face. Clear as a bell. Bright. You want to be with her so badly.

Another firm squeeze of your fingers. You squeeze back--hopefully it will bring him down to your level, to the cotton and balloons.

“Then why don’t you want to be with her?”

Why is he asking such a mean question? Your lips curl downwards in an unintentional childish mimic of a frown. They feel thick, almost numb, as you half-blubber out the words.

“I do want to be with her, but you won’t let me.”

His hands leave yours--you almost want to reach out, but they lay almost limp on your stomach--and he cradles your cheek instead. There’s warmth on your cheek and you realize that he’s taken his gloves off. Ah. Maybe your squeeze worked, after all; he only takes off his gloves when he’s happy, when he’s comfortable. When he wants to comfort you. 

Fuzzy memories of crying into his shoulder, of weeping openly on a bed in a long-forgotten room, mingled with the sensation of his bare skin against yours. Always soft, comforting. Enduring. Something you could rely on to release the pressure of your emotions and bring you back down.

“Because you’re unwell,” he whispers, voice as soft as the cotton wrapped around your thoughts. “You’re so unwell.”

The way he brushes his hand against your forehead feels nice. Maybe you’re sick, after all. 

You don’t even think about the words before you speak them, instinctual questions now going right from your surface thoughts to your voice and out your mouth.

“If I get better, can I see her?”

There’s a hand cradling your cheek again, and this time, you lean your face into the warmth. There’s that spark in his eyes again, but this time the look doesn’t melt away because of your ill-timed comment. You press your lips together to keep it that way, lest the thoughts flying out your brain make him upset again.

You feel so nice, like this, like you’re wrapped in the softest blankets in the world and there’s nothing, no hardness, no anger, no sadness, holding you down and making you cry. Just him and you and the warmth radiating throughout your body.

Why cry, when his hand is right here, when your body is so tingled and relaxed. Why cry, when all you can think about is how nice you feel, how calm he is, how calm you are.

Why cry, when the next words he speaks make your heart thud against your chest in pure, body-lifting joy.

“Of course you can.”

His hand trails along your chin, cupping it in a way that makes your stomach flutter.

“Now that I’ve found the right medicine for your… disposition, we can start the rest of your treatment right away.”

What he says should scare you. But there’s no room left in your body for anything but forced content and fuzzy softness and the smallest hint of deja vu, a wispy little thing cupping its hands and yelling warnings that you brush away with a smile.

[dem-obscure-imagines]

Second Chances

Ben Hargreeves x Reader

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Summary: With new threats about, the Umbrella Academy is looking for new members to (potentially) help save the world and your healing abilities make you the perfect candidate to join.

Note: Idk why I’ve been in a Ben Hargreeves mood these past few days, but have some fluff. Set in a no time travel no apocalypse au?

Warnings: Very mild mentions of death

Word Count: 1.2k

Reader is: Gender Neutral

When you’d called the Umbrella Academy claiming to be gifted like they were, the others were, admittedly, skeptical. Several times throughout their childhood, the Hargreeves had met countless parents with children they claimed to be special, and none of them ever actually were. But, with Reginald dead and world-ending threats lurking around every corner, the remaining Hargreeves siblings were a little more…open to having more help around.

So, you arrived at the house, with little more than your messenger bag, your laptop, your favorite mug, and some clothes. You figured you shouldn’t bring too many things in case they kicked you right back out, but they wouldn’t have any reason to. You really were gifted.

The monkey butler, named Pogo, welcomed you in, and a nice woman named Grace made a cup of tea for you, and in the meantime, the rest of the siblings slowly assembled in the living room. The first of whom was Klaus, who, as usual, was bored.

“So you’re the one who called, huh?” He asked, sizing you up.

“Yep. I’m (Y/N).”

“And what’s your ability?” Klaus asked, plopping down on the couch across from you.

“We’ll let them show us when everyone else gets here.” Luther asserted, entering the room. “Nice to meet you, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” You said politely, sipping from the mug of tea. Off in the corner of the room, you felt a…presence. You looked over there, your eyes narrowed, and sure enough, there was a bundle of energy concentrated there. Almost as though…

Huh. Odd.

You caught Klaus staring at you when you glanced back that way and he smirked a little to himself, although he didn’t explain why it had caught his attention. Given your faint knowledge of the Umbrella Academy members, heralded as heroes while you were growing up, you were fairly certain he was Séance, which could only mean one thing…

It only took the others a few more minutes to get to the living room, and so once everyone was assembled, a man who had introduced himself as Diego said, “Alright, so what’s your thing?”

“I’m a healer. I have healing powers and they’re…kind of ridiculously powerful.” You told them.

“Healing powers are great, but we’re going to need you to prove it.” Luther crossed his arms, focused on you.

“Okay.” You shrugged. There was a dead plant sitting in a pot on the coffee table, so, you concentrated, green energy manifesting around your fingers. You flicked them onto the plant, and when you did, immediately, it perked up, its brown and withered leaves filling out and returning to the green color they had been weeks prior before it had died.

“Woah.” Allison smiled, staring at the now, very much alive plant. “That’s…incredible.”

“Thanks.” You chuckled. “It, uh, works on people, too. Obviously.”

“Right. Well, next time one of us is injured, we know where to find you. Welcome to the team.”

“Thank you.”

***

And so, you moved some more of your things in, which included a large amount of books. You liked reading, so a lot of your time spent at the school was in the living room, curled up with a book and a mug of tea.

It was on one of those occasions that Klaus approached you.

“You can see him, right?” He asked, motioning to the…presence that was lingering next to him. It migrated swiftly to one of the chairs in the living room, and Klaus looked at it, seemingly listening to it before turning his attention back to you. “When you first got here, you looked right at him.”

“I cannot see him, no, but I can feel him. I don’t know if that makes any sense…It’s like a magnetic field, kind of. There’s a pull to wherever he is.”

“Ah. Makes sense.” Klaus nodded. “This is Ben. My dead brother. Our dearly departed.”

“Oh, uh, sorry for your loss.” You said, unsure of how to respond to such a statement. “And nice to meet you, Ben.”

Klaus looked to Ben before repeating, “He says it’s nice to meet you, too. I have a question, though, are you into spirituality? Like witchcraft? Or is this part of your gift?”

“I’m…not sure, actually. I collect rocks, but more because they’re pretty than any other reason.” You thought for a long moment about just what he was insinuating. “Huh…”

“What?”

“Hold still.” You told the empty space where Ben was supposedly sitting, calling your power to your hand and watching as the green light flickered around your fingertips. Then, you flicked your wrist forward, sending the energy in that direction.

Then, suddenly, a young man in a black hoodie and leather jacket appeared in the chair in front of you, staring at you dumbfounded.

“Holy shit!” You jolted, gasping and staring at him. “I did not expect that to work, honestly.” You admitted, giggling.

“You can see me?” He asked, looking down at his hands and then pressing them to his cheeks to feel his skin.

“Yeah, and I can hear you, too.” You told him.

“Am I…?” Ben murmured softly, feeling the fabric of his hoodie. He pinched himself.

Klaus walked over and poked him a few times. “I mean, you feel pretty real to me.”

“How did you…How did you do that?”

“I have no idea, but I guess we can add necromancy to my list of powers.”

“Is there something going on in…here…?” Allison was standing in the doorway, looking into the room. Her eyes landed on Ben. Immediately she teared up. “B-Ben?”

“In the flesh. I think.” Ben chuckled, still not positive he was really alive after all of his years as a ghost. Tears brimmed his eyes too. “Been a while, huh?”

Allison rushed into the room and hugged him tightly, tears streaming down her cheeks, and once she was done, she went to gather the others while Klaus took his turn, giving his formerly dead brother a hug.

As soon as Klaus let go of him, Ben walked over towards you and knelt down in front of where you were sitting, taking your hand, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Thank you. So much. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Of course.” You said softly. “I’d say anytime, but I don’t want you to die again anytime soon, alright?”

“Right.” He laughed. “I’ll try to stick around a while longer this time.”

“Good.”

***

With Ben alive again, the occasion called for celebration, which meant some family bonding and drinks and music, and while you didn’t really feel like part of their mismatched family yet, the Hargreeves welcomed you quickly as one of their own, especially given that you had returned their brother to them.

And once the party was over and the others were slowly but surely going up to bed one by one, Ben made sure to single you out, approaching you with a smile brighter than the others said he’d ever smiled during his first life.

“I don’t mean to be too forward, but, um, second chances and all that…” Ben rubbed the back of his neck chuckling to himself and blushing for the first time in about a decade. “Do you maybe wanna go to the movies sometime? Or like out to dinner? I’d like to do something to repay you, and also…get to know you a little better? If that’s alright? If not, it’s totally cool, I just—”

“I’d love to, Ben. That’d be great.”

“Awesome. Cool. Um, Friday at seven?”

“Friday at seven.” You nodded, smiling. “It’s a date.”

[nightingaelic]

could you do Fallout New Vegas companion’s reactions to a Courier Six who is also the Lone Wanderer telling their stories from their time in DC? (bonus points for Arcade’s reaction to them hating the enclave, and if that would make him decide to keep his past hidden even longer, or if he would still tell them?)

The logistics and implications of this make my head spin. This is also super long, honestly I should just quit writing reacts and start writing fics OH WAIT

Getting the courier talking was a tough thing to do, but on nights where the moon was full and the coyotes' howls were miles away or at least behind some stout walls, on nights where they were a few beers in and they hadn't seen another living soul in a few days, that Mojave Express deliverer started to reminisce. That wasn't really the surprising part, though. No, the surprising part was what they would remember, fondly or not-so-fondly: A world apart from the desert, a continent away on another coast, and stories of life in a vault, a missing father, pure water and a Brotherhood divided.

Arcade Gannon: Arcade didn't mind these moods, at least when they first cropped up. He nodded along as the courier talked about living in their father's shadow, about feeling cornered by their own family's legacy. He hung on their words about living in the cradle of America's history, about Project Purity, all of the gritty details of modifying a GECK to bring water to a devastated wasteland.

Eventually though, the courier's memories soured, with the arrival of Enclave remnants in their life. Arcade folded into himself with every harsh word, every jolt of plasma that had disrupted his friend's world relived in horrific detail. They gestured angrily as they described their newfound purpose, their battle for power with the fractured Brotherhood of Steel at their back, and their smug satisfaction at the moments they were able to crack open Raven Rock and the Enclave's mobile base crawler and lay waste to their tormentors.

It took a few rounds of these stories before the courier noticed he shrank and grew quiet whenever they neared the end of their story about breaking into another vault to find the GECK. They stopped abruptly one night. "What's up with you?"

"Um..." Arcade scratched the back of his neck and looked away. "Nothing. Nothing, I just... have some personal experience with the Enclave, myself."

The courier sighed. "Yeah, there's a few people walking around the West Coast that have similar stories to mine. Arroyo's full of them, for one. Is it something like that?"

Arcade took a deep breath. "I feel... well, it's a lot closer to home, for me. Close enough to raise questions, so I don't talk about it much."

"Close enough to..." The courier twisted their face up in confusion for a moment, before realization set in and their eyes grew large. "You were... your... oh."

"Mmm-hm."

"Well, fuck me." The courier smiled and popped a cap off of another beer. "I've been doing all the talking, haven't I? Let's hear your story about working with the guys in power armor who ruined my life, right after dad did."

Craig Boone: Whenever the courier started up like this, Boone couldn't help but notice a familiar twinge of regret and self-doubt in their voice. It shone through most clearly when they spoke about their time with the Brotherhood of Steel, the men and women they'd fought alongside and lost during their struggle against the remnants of the Enclave. It was there, too, in their story about returning to the vault they grew up in, setting the chaos that had arisen in their wake to rest, but not being able to go back to the way things were.

Boone didn't pry. He knew that feeling well. Instead, he cracked open bottles of beer, liquor, soda, whatever they had on hand during their nights in the desert, and just listened. He'd done the same for Carla, when they were younger and new to each other and he couldn't get enough of her voice and how it flowed endlessly, easily, the way his never could. He absorbed it all now as he did then: The joy, the pain, the loss, the fear, the triumphs and falls and abandoned dreams that filled the courier up and drove them to travel west, beyond anything they had ever known.

That last part stumped Boone a bit, though. "Why didn't you stay?" he finally asked one night.

They looked surprised. "Stay? Stay where? I didn't have a home anymore."

Boone shook his head. "With the Brotherhood. Or some other settlement."

"Like Megaton?" The courier sighed. "I thought about it. Close to the vault, friendly people, easy work... I guess I just didn't want to wind up... stuck."

They flushed red and looked away from him. Boone knew why they were embarrassed, but he also knew the truth in their words.

Sometimes the courier cried after they had finished, though they did their best to hide it. Boone pretended not to notice. He was pretty sure they knew he was pretending, but he was also pretty sure that pointing it out would be worse than just letting it be an open secret between them. The silence between them endured, but something grew inside it and flourished. Some kind of deeper understanding.

Lily Bowen: The more the courier spoke, the more Lily made connections in her muddled mind. Of course they knew the basic layout of most vaults, they had grown up in one. Of course they were extra-sensitive to the Mojave heat, they had come to the desert from the cooler of the two coasts. Of course they'd been extra-wary around the super mutants or nightkin of Jacobstown, they had only known angry super mutants looking to grow their own numbers through any means necessary.

Their shared experience of growing up inside a vault reminded Lily of happier days, and she often asked questions about Vault 101 during the courier's stories. "Were you sweet on anyone inside your old home?" she asked, with a big smile befitting a proud grandma.

The courier blushed. "That's not very polite, Lily."

"Oh, I'm sorry, dearie."

"No, no it's okay." The courier smiled. "There was a boy who picked on me a lot, but I never figured out whether he did it because he hated me or liked me. His name was Butch. And there was Amata, my childhood friend. She was the daughter of the Overseer."

"Daughter of the Overseer?" Lily grinned. "I'm sure she was a lovely young woman."

The courier looked a little misty. "Yeah. She was. Probably still is."

Lily pulled a handkerchief that used to be a small tablecloth from inside her overalls and handed it over. "Maybe we can go back there together, pumpkin," she offered. "I always wanted to travel to the capital. We can visit your friends, see the sights."

"Yeah, maybe someday." The courier accepted the gift and blew their nose. "I've got some things I need to finish up here before I even think about wandering back east, though."

"Then let's make a list and do our chores," Lily said happily. "Number one?"

"Ohhhh, man." The courier smiled up at her. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Raul got a faint smile on his face whenever the courier started up like this, as if their memories reminded him of another place he had come from, another time. While they couldn't have more different backgrounds, pasts- hell, he had several hundred years on the courier, even if they shared the same road today- there was something in the description of the other roads they had walked that made him feel warm on a cold night.

"What's on your mind?" The courier asked him one night, when Raul's smile grew larger than usual.

"Nada, boss," he reassured them. "You're just a good reminder that I can change my mind about the future anytime I'd like. Tell me the one about that radio DJ again."

"Again?" The courier rolled their eyes. "Why? I could tell you a million stories about Underworld and all the ghouls that lived there, but all you want to hear about is Three Dog. You'd probably have more in common with the Underworld folks, honestly."

Raul nodded noncommittally. "Sí, but my favorite stories are about people who had to rise above bad situations and become someone uncommon. Anyone who's able to do that is either fighting for something great or running from something terrible. Sometimes both."

The courier shot him a skeptical look. "Three Dog's holed up in his radio station 24/7, he's not running from anything or out fighting for anything. All that stuff about 'the good fight' is a load of bull."

"Now, now, Six," Raul chastised. "Just because he looks like your average pendejo doesn't mean he isn't doing his part. You even told me his radio show is inspirational for the Capital Wasteland folks."

The courier held their hands up in the air and bobbled them, as if balancing an invisible scale. "The duality of man. Being an average pendejo, or convincing everyone around you that you aren't actually an average pendejo and can pull off miracles."

Raul laughed. "And which one are you, boss?"

"Eh, I'm still figuring it out."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Cass was never one for fixating on her own past, but she couldn't help but sympathize with the courier whenever they deigned to add onto their unbelievable story. It was hard enough for her to navigate her own damn life: She couldn't imagine being called upon to steer an entire area's destiny.

After another night of recalling their life inside a vault with their dad, then their unexpected loss of him right after being reunited on the surface, the courier stopped suddenly. "I'm sorry," they said.

Cass paused her swig of precious whiskey. "What?"

"I keep going on and on about my dad, and here you are not knowing what happened to yours."

"Eh." Cass took her drink and waved her hand around until the burning swallow made its way down. "S'loads of people in the wasteland without a clue what happened to their pops. I'm not special. In fact, I'd say it probably hurts a bit more, what happened with yours."

"Well, all the same." The courier sank deeper into their seat and examined their own bottle of spirits. "I feel like an open book, tonight. Anything you want to know about where I came from that I haven't already spilled?"

Cass thought for a moment. "Tribals."

"What about them?"

"Does the East Coast have them? You're not the first traveler I've met from there, but none of you have so much as mentioned any tribals out east."

"Mmm." The courier looked thoughtful. "I guess we do have them, though maybe not in the traditional sense. There's a mess of them in Point Lookout for sure, and at least one tribal group in the Capital Wasteland outright, but beyond that things are more... loose. Fewer intact families, fewer intact homes."

"Huh." Cass took another drink. "Maybe that's where my dad went."

She let the courier stew in the awkward silence for a bit before she grinned and reached out to smack them. "Just kidding. Keep going. I want to hear about that giant robot again."

Veronica Santangelo: Veronica usually sat and listened, spellbound, picturing a chapter of her order that had realized the very thing she kept trying to tell the Elders and made the ultimate sacrifice to follow their hearts anyway.

Well, maybe Elder Owyn Lyons hadn't come to the same realization as her, but he had had a change of heart that split his company and cut them off from almost everyone they had ever known. It had been five years since the High Elders had instituted radio silence toward their East Coast chapter, and so far there had been no attempts to re-establish contact.

Veronica prodded the courier for any info she could get about the Capital Wasteland Brotherhood of Steel. The courier let slip pretty early in their friendship that Elder Owyn Lyons had passed away, which wasn't unexpected. The man was 76 years old, after all. She learned on one particularly emotional night that his daughter, Elder Sarah Lyons, was also dead, something she wasn't sure even the Western Elders were aware of. That memory was clearly painful for the courier though, so Veronica didn't press for details.

"And the Enclave?" the Scribe asked one night, arms wrapped around her knees. "Are they completely gone?"

The courier grew cold. "Yes. I made sure of it."

"Right." Veronica nodded. "So the Brotherhood took over the air force base they were at. It must have been chock-full of tech and resources, if it was the Enclave's last stand."

"It was." The courier sighed and shifted in their seat. "And it woke up some of our brothers and sisters to their original mission in the Capital Wasteland. I thought maybe that selfishness had died with Liberty Prime, but... well, I didn't like it, so I left."

"Mmm, yeah." Veronica nodded again, sympathetically this time. "I know how you feel. Felt."

"Feel," the courier agreed. "I just wish there was more I could've done. Maybe there wasn't anything else, short of seizing power."

"You'd definitely get pushback for that in the Brotherhood," Veronica agreed. "But you might get that chance out here in the broader Mojave."

ED-E: At first, ED-E enjoyed the stories, trumpeting and cooing various beeps at the appropriate moments for emphasis. The one time the courier began badmouthing the Enclave, however, the eyebot waited until they had finished before playing back the first tape that Dr. Whitley had recorded before its trip.

The courier listened to the scientist's words from years ago, deflating slightly as it played out. When the tape had finished, they stood up and checked the eyebot over. "He sent you toward Navarro, huh?"

ED-E beeped affirmation, and the courier sighed. "But Navarro was already gone. I'm sorry. I guess I'm... well, me and the Brotherhood of Steel back east are responsible for your previous master's decision to send you away. Might be responsible for more, too."

ED-E beeped sadly. The courier pressed their forehead against the eyebot's metal dome in apology.

Rex: Well, surprising for most. Rex was not most. As soon as the courier got really into their recollections, Rex usually yawned and went to sleep. He stirred when he felt their hand reach down to scratch the ruff of his neck, or pat the glass dome that held his brain.

"Good dog," the courier said, through the veil of sleep. "You remind me of another pup that used to follow me around."

[universallychaoticpan]

What I wouldn't give to stay like this

Armin x reader

Times like these were few and far between, when the scouts weren't in constant peril, running for their lives or outwitting the government. It was rare to just have moments like these, when he could sit in the silence of Hange's dusty libraries, reading over the books she'd let him borrow in his room, or laughing at Eren and Jean's faces as Captain Levi chewed them out for the umpteenth time that morning alone. But now, with the afternoon light that filtered through the windows dappling the quiet room in sun and shadow, he felt a warm kind of peace he hadn't known since the early days back Shiganshina. Sometimes he still longed for those days, painful though they were, when the most constant things in his life were the neighborhood bullies and Eren and Mikasa always being there when he needed them. Even though he felt slighted, weak even, he couldn't deny that he'd also felt safer than he did now. At least then he also had the comfort of the gargantuan walls that enclosed them, keeping them hidden from the view of the titans and at the same time, making it so they never had to see the awful brutes.

Of course, the wall falling brought pain, suffering, mourning and death. But no one in the walls was a true stranger to any of those things. They lived every day with the threat of the blade just above their heads, knowing it could fall, that the hammer could drop at any given time and when it did, they would be at the mercy of the same cruel world they'd spent a hundred years hiding from. Yes, the fall of wall Maria had brought untold anguish to his life. But selfishly, he was also glad it had happened. Because the same events that caused him to lose the only home, only family he had left, also brought him closer to the family he'd chosen. It had brought him to you.

You, who he'd seen for years around Shiganshina in his childhood, trailing behind your mother who held your tiny hand firmly but not unkindly as you toddled behind her through the town square. You, who'd used to ask the kinds of questions your teachers never really could answer, the ones about what was outside the walls, about the titans and why they'd even appeared. Secretly, he'd admired you for years, you boldness and candor as your teachers sputtered out the uniform answers to the questions you never really stopped asking. He remembered growing a little older, listening halfheartedly to Eren's impromptu freedom speeches, eyes carefully watching you walk, alone this time, through the square, haggling and speaking with the merchants with an easy smile. Oh, what he wouldn't give for you to smile at him that way. Even better, if he was the cause of the way your eyes lit up, the corners of your lips parting in a short laugh.

You, who he'd thought he'd never see again when the wall fell, when the colossal titan leered over the stones and the sounds of misery became far more than a memory. He remembered rushing past your house, deeper into the city, crushed with a large boulder the way Eren's was. Terrified, he watched from behind a pile of rubble as titans began rooting through the remains of what used to be your home, finally deciding you were beyond saving and tearing off to safety.

He'd accepted your fate as one of the many dead after the fall of Shiganshina all those years ago when he followed Eren and Mikasa into the 104 cadet corp, bound for all different branches of the military once they evolved from awkward teenagers into glorified titan fodder. He tried not to dwell on that part too much. It would break him to linger on it too much. Instead, he simply listened to the others as they stated their names, their hometowns- none of which had been ransacked by titans the way his home had. Beside him, Eren and Mikasa sharply did the same, before he too added his voice to the fray. As far as he knew, no other survivors from Shiganshina had given into the madness of actually seeing the titans devouring people whole and then join the military, embracing the possibility of facing them again.

He zoned out more than a little, matching the cities he was hearing to the few maps he'd seen

Karanse district

Trost district

Dauper village

Jinae village

Ragako village

Shiganshina

Wait-

Armin couldn't stop himself from doing a double take, eyes widening as he took you in for the first time in years. Your features were more drawn, more defined, having lost the softness childhood had afforded you, your eyes darker with sorrow, your mouth set in a dead serious line so different than the lively smile he'd grown up seeing. You'd grown up, same as he had. But that didn't change the fact that you were here. You were alive. And for the first time in years, he felt the flutter of hope, of giddy infatuation, both thins he thought he'd released years before, when he resigned himself to simply mourning the girl he never knew.

But now, as if back from the dead, you had miraculously appeared once again. And Armin wasn't about to let his chance go to waste.

He started talking to you, finally, tentatively sharing memories from Shiganshina, your reactions betraying your surprise, but also your eagerness to hear from someone else who spoke about Shiganshina past the tragedy that had occurred there years ago. You began to seek him out, sparring with him in training, laughing and chatting with Eren and Mikasa at dinner while Armin tried to combat the blush he knew was dusting his cheeks as he watched your eyes come alive again.

The four of you found little pieces of home in each other, and for once, it didn't feel like a terrible reminder. Instead, it felt like a comfort to know that you were all still here, and fighting for someone. Eren, avenging his mother, freedom at the forefront of his mind at all times. Mikasa, always ready to fight beside those she loved. Armin, who at last wanted to prove he could stand shoulder to shoulder with the people who knew him better than anyone else in the hell of a world they lived in, and you, advancing every day for the lives of your family who, like Eren, you'd seen die at the hands of titans before someone ripped you away towards safety.

Eren and Mikasa found strength in each other. You and Armin found a new kind of solace. When you found those simple moments apart from the world, it almost felt like you could afford to be normal teenagers, laughing flirtatiously and bursting at the seams with a whorl of emotion. He'd read to you from his books, you would listen attentively, asking those same questions that had peaked his interest in you all those years before.

And now, in the quiet of Hange's library, with the other remaining 104 scouts out helping with Eren's titan experiments, there was a new feeling of understanding that came over you both as you tripped over your own feet, alamost taking him down with you.

He caught your hand.

He pulled you in.

Your breath left you suddenly, faces inches apart.

And there, painted in dusky golds and purple shadow, your lips met, petal soft and light as a summer breeze.

What he wouldn't have given to stay in a moment like that forever.

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