#I started playing it when I was 5 years old and watched my mom beat Onaga and it was SO fucking cool

[gophergal]

HAPPY 20TH ANNIVERSARY TO ONE OF THE BEST GAMES OF ALL TIME

[xo-cod]

fluff with simon battling fatherhood. and he gets a lil sad reality check <3 :")

this was rushed but i love the idea of simon realising his family he had will never be able to see the family he's created 🥲🤍

"kids, hurry up" simon called out with a stern expression as he waited by the end of the stairs, strapping the baby carrier to his chest and placing his youngest inside gently. the small baby stirred softly, a sleepy mumble falling from her lips as she closed her eyes once more feeling the steady heartbeat of simon's chest

"comin' daddy!" he hears the thundering of small feet running down the stairs, bringing a soft smile of pride to his lips to see his girls

"c'mere munchkin" he bends carefully to his knees, mindful of the baby strapped to his chest, and helps hana with her ballet flats while amara places a headband in her hair lopsided as she looked back to simon again.

"where we goin'?" his 5 year old asks as she twirled a little to make her dress spin while she looked at simon with such innocence it makes him want to protect her forever from anything and everything

"amara you stepped on my feet!" hana, his three year old scowled as she pushed her older sister back with a huff. the other gasps a little in shock and then her small face crumples into annoyance as she huffed

"easy easy, none of that now, alright?" simon eyed his daughters with a firm look and they both sighed and nodded slowly

"where's mum?" amara looked around for you and simon clicked his tongue, fixing her lopsided headbanded to sit right on her tiny head once more

"mum's at a doctors appointment so you lot are comin with me to the supermarket" he responds, grabbing their coats from the side as he helps them in to it. he's already got snacks stashed away in the bag for when they start to get cranky halfway through and he hoped the shops wouldn't be an overly long trip

"who did mum go with?" kids and their never ending questions but it makes him chuckle a little at their curiosity, zipping up their small jackets to ensure their warmth

"she's gone with her mum, nana" he speaks again, standing back up carefully as he pressed a soft kiss to his baby on his chest. he just about grabbed his keys when one of his piped up again with yet another question

"oh... where's your mum daddy?" hana asks so innocently, it makes him pause. he could feel his heart beat heavily under his chest, picking up pace as he stares at his little girl again. her eyes hold so much wonder, so much interest it's so hard to answer

"she's... not here honey. she passed away years ago" he stroked her hair, reminiscing on the past for a few seconds as memories of his mother flew by in his head. from her helping him get ready for school to the doctors appointments to making him food, the memories hit him like a truck even years and years forward. memories of tommy and his wife flooding his head alongside his nephew. every milestone simon had ever reached was shared now to a grave instead of the warmth his family provided. every happy occasion, every huge goal was said in a soft prayer to the sky instead of being celebrated loudly.

having children was something simon thought wasn't possible not with the lifestyle he lived and the past he came from. but it happened, you entered his life and blessed him with three beautiful girls he cherished with every part of his heart. only him and tommy couldn't watch their children play together and grow together, there was no visiting simon's mom on the weekend as she cooked her famous roast for the family to share. those dreams died the day he buried his family 6 feet into the ground

"oh... m'sorry daddy" his girls have shifted their happy chatty demeanour to a more sad one as they notice their father lost in his thoughts. he's snapped out of his trance as he looks back down to the girls who barely come up to his knees with a soft chuckle as he sits down on one of the steps. cradling them in his arms in a gentle hug. he could see the sharpness of tommy's eyes in theirs, the placement of the soft dimple in their smiles just like his mothers. even if his family physically wasn't here, parts of them were always carried throughout

"nothin to be worry for, darling. i wish you could've met her, she would've loved you three" he chuckled fondly, his heart aching softly in his chest as he holds his daughters close. maybe one day when they get older, he'll explain the backstory of their late grandma and their late uncle but for now, he'll bear that burden alone

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 5: Artemis, Goddess Of The Hunt]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 6.6k

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! 🥰

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

“So you smoked grass in college,” Aegon says, pondering you with glazed eyes as he slurps his cherry-flavored Mr. Misty. You’re in Biloxi, Mississippi where Aemond is making speeches and meeting with locals to commemorate the first summer of the beaches being desegregated after a decade of peaceful protests and violent white supremacist backlash. Route 90 runs right along the sand dunes. If you walked out of this Dairy Queen, you could look south and see the Gulf of Mexico, placid dark ripples gleaming with moonshine. “And swore, and had a boyfriend, and presumably, what, did shots? Skipped class on occasion?”

“Yeah,” you admit, smiling sheepishly, remembering. You stretch out your fingers. “I chewed gum, I talked during mass. And I loved black nail polish. The nuns would beat my knuckles with rulers, I always had bruises. I wore these flowing skirts down to my ankles and knee-high boots. My hair was a mess, long and blowing around everywhere. My friends and I would do each other’s makeup, silver glitter and purple shadow, pencil on a ridiculous amount of eyeliner and then smudge it out. If you saw a photo you wouldn’t recognize me.”

Aegon takes a drag on his Lucky Strike cigarette, weightless smoke and the tired yellowish haze of florescent lights. Buffalo Springfield’s For What It’s Worth is playing from the Zenith radio on the counter by the cash register. “I’d recognize you.”

“I used to skip this one class all the time. The professor was a demon. I could do the math, but not the way he wanted me to. Right solution, wrong steps, I don’t know. I learned it differently in high school, and I couldn’t figure out the formula he wanted me to use. So he’d mark everything a zero even if my answer was correct. I couldn’t stand that bastard. Then the nuns kept catching me sunbathing on the quad when I was supposed to be in Matrices and Vector Spaces. I racked up so many demerits they were going to revoke my weekend pass, and then I wouldn’t be able to go into the city with my friends. So I stole the demerit book and burned it up on the stove in my dorm. Almost set the whole building on fire.”

Aegon is laughing. “You did not. Not you, not perfect ever-obedient Miss America!”

“I did. I really did.” You sip your own Mr. Misty, lemon-lime. Across the restaurant, Criston and Fosco are eating banana splits—dripping chocolate syrup and melted ice cream all over their table—and passionately debating who is going to end up in the World Series; Criston favors the Cardinals and the Orioles, Fosco says the Red Sox and the Cubs. The rest of the Targaryen family is back at the hotel watching news coverage of the Republican National Convention, something you can only stomach so much of, Otto’s cynical commentary, Aemond’s remaining eye fixed fiercely on the screen as he nips at an Old Fashioned. “I was wild back then.”

“And you gave it all up to be Aemond’s first lady.”

You think back to where it started: palm trees, salt water, alligators in drainage ditches. “My father grew up in a shack outside of Tallahassee. No electricity, no running water, he dropped out of school in eighth grade to help take care of his siblings when his mom died. They moved south to live with their aunt in Tampa, and my father wound up in Tarpon Springs working as a sea sponge diver.”

Aegon’s eyebrows rise, like he thinks you’re teasing him. “Sea sponges…?”

“I’m serious! It paid better than picking oranges or sweeping up in a factory. It’s dangerous. You have to wear this heavy rubber suit and walk around on the ocean floor, sometimes 50 feet or more below the surface.”

“What do people do with sea sponges?”

“Oh right, you would be unfamiliar. You’re supposed to clean yourself with them, like a loofah. Soap? Water? Ringing any bells?”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “You’re a very mean person. Aren’t you supposed to be setting an example for the merciful wives and daughters of this great nation?”

“Painters and potters buy sponges too. And some women use them as contraceptives. You can soak them in lemon juice and then shove them up there and it kills sperm.”

“I suddenly have great appreciation for the sea sponge industry. God bless the sea sponges.”

“So my father spent a few years diving, and he fell in love with a girl who worked at one of the shops he sold sponges to. That was my mother. They got married when he had absolutely nothing, and by their fifth anniversary he had his own fleet of boats, a gift shop, and a processing and shipping facility, all of which they owned jointly. They just opened the Spongeorama Sponge Factory this past April, a cute little tourist trap. But my point is that they were partners from the start. My father listens to my mother, and she works alongside him, and it was never like what I’ve seen from my friends’ parents: dad at the office 80 hours a week, mom at home strung out on Valium, just these…deeply separate, cold planets locked in orbit but never touching each other. I knew I didn’t want that. I wanted a husband who was building something I could be a part of. I wanted a man who respected me.”

Aegon watches you as he lights a fresh cigarette, not saying what you imagine he wants to: And how is that working out? He puffs on his Lucky Strike a few times and then offers it to you. You aren’t supposed to smoke, not even tobacco—it’s not ladylike, it’s masculine, it’s subversive—but you take it and hold it between your index and middle fingers, inhaling an ashy bitterness that blood learns to crave. The bracelets on your wrist jangle, thin silver chains that match the diamonds in your ears. Your dress is mint green, your hair in your signature Brigitte Bardot-inspired updo. Aegon is wearing a black t-shirt with The Who stamped across the front. When you pass the cigarette back to him, Aegon asks: “What music did you listen to? The Stones, The Animals?”

“Yeah. And Hendrix, The Kinks, Aretha Franklin…”

“Phil Ochs?”

“I love him. He’s got a song about Mississippi, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware. It’s one of my favorites.”

“And I’m currently getting a little obsessed with Loretta Lynn. She’s so angry!”

“She’s sanctimonious, that’s what she is. Always bitching about men.”

“Six kids and an alcoholic husband will do that to someone.”

Aegon winces, and then you realize what you’ve said. Loretta Lynn sounds a lot like Mimi. He finishes his Mr. Misty and then fidgets restlessly with his white cardboard cup, spinning it around by the straw. You feel bad, though you shouldn’t. You wouldn’t have a month ago.

“Aegon,” you say gently, and he reluctantly looks up at you, sunburned cheeks, blonde hair shagging over his eyes. “Why do you ignore your children? They’re interesting, they’re fun. Violeta invited me to help her make cakes with her Easy-Bake Oven last week. And Cosmo…he’s so clever. But it’s like he doesn’t know who you are. He might actually think Fosco’s his dad.”

Aegon takes one last drag off his cigarette and discards the end of it in his Mr. Misty cup. Now he’s fiddling with it again, avoiding your gaze. “I don’t have much to offer them.”

“I think you do.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do,” you insist. “You can be kind of nice sometimes.”

He frowns, staring out the window. You know he can’t see anything but darkness and streetlights. “I should have been the one to go to Vietnam. If somebody had to get shot at so Aemond could be president, I was the right choice. No one would miss me. No one would mourn me. Daeron didn’t deserve that. But I was too old, so Otto and my father got him to enlist. Now he’s in the jungle and my mother has nightmares about Western Union telegrams. If I was the son over there, I think she’d sleep easier.”

I’m glad you’re still here, you think. Instead you say: “Your children need you.”

“No they don’t. Between me and Mimi, they’re better off as orphans. Helaena and Fosco can be their parents. Maybe they’ll have a fighting chance.”

The glass door opens, and a man walks into the Dairy Queen with his two sons scampering behind him, all with sandy flip flops and carrying fishing rods. The dad is at least six feet tall and brawny, and wearing a Wallace For President baseball cap. You and Aegon both notice it, then share an amused, disparaging glance. You mouth: Imbecile bigot. The man continues to the cash register and orders two chocolate shakes and a root beer float. At their own table, Criston is mopping up melted ice cream with napkins and telling Fosco to stop being such a pig.

“Me?!” Fosco says. “You are the pig, that spot there is your ice cream, do not blame your failings on poor Fosco. I have already let you drag me to this terrible state and never once complained about the fried food or the mosquitos. And that thing out there is not a real beach. The water is still and brown, brown!”

“For once in your life, pretend you have a work ethic and help me clean up the table.”

“You are being very anti-immigrant right now, do you know that?”

Aegon begins singing, ostensibly to himself. “Here’s to the state of Mississippi, for underneath her borders, the devil draws no lines.”

“Aegon, no,” you whisper, petrified. You know this song. You know where he’s going.

He’s beaming as he continues: “If you drag her muddy rivers, nameless bodies you will find.”

Now the man in the Wallace hat is looking at Aegon. His sons are happily gulping down their chocolate shakes. Criston and Fosco, still bickering, haven’t noticed yet.

“Oh, the fat trees of the forest have hid a thousand crimes.”

“Aegon, don’t,” you plead quietly. “He’ll murder you.”

“The calendar is lyin’ when it reads the present time.”

“Hey,” calls the man in the Wallace For President hat. “You got a problem, boy?”

Aegon drums his palms on the tabletop as he sings, loudly now: “Oh, here’s to the land you’ve torn out the heart of, Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of!”

In seconds, the man has crossed the room, grabbed Aegon by the collar of his t-shirt, yanked him out of his chair and struck him across the face: closed fist, lethal intent, the sick wet sound of bones on flesh. Aegon’s nose gushes, his lip splits open, but he isn’t flinching away, he isn’t afraid. He’s yowling like a rabid animal and clawing, kicking, swinging at the giant who’s ensnared him. You are screaming as you leap to your feet, your chair falling over and clattering on the floor behind you. The man’s sons are hooting joyously. “Git him, Paw!” one of them shouts.

“Criston?!” you shriek, but he and Fosco are already here, tugging at the man’s massive arms and beating on his back, trying to untangle him from Aegon.

“Stop!” Criston roars. “You don’t want to hurt him! He’s a Targaryen!”

“A Targaryen, huh?” the man says as he steps away, wiping the blood from his knuckles on his tattered white t-shirt, stained with fish guts. “All the better. I wish that bullet they put in Aemond woulda been just another inch to the left. Directly through the aorta.”

Aegon lunges at the man again, hissing, fists swinging. Fosco yanks him back.

“Are you gonna call someone or not?!” Criston snaps at the girl behind the cash register, but she only gives him a steely glare in return. This is Wallace country. There’s a reason why it took four years after the Civil Rights Act of 1964 to finally desegregate the beaches.

“We should go,” you tell Criston softly.

“Yes, we will leave now,” Fosco says, hauling Aegon towards the front door. Then, to the cashier: “Thank you for the ice cream, but it was not very good. If you are ever in Italy, try the gelato. You will learn so much.”

“I can’t wait ‘til November,” the man gloats, ominous, threatening. His sons are standing tall and proud beside him. “When Aemond loses, you can all cart your asses back to Europe. We don’t want you here. America ain’t for people like you.”

“It literally is,” you say, unable to stop yourself. “It’s on the Statue of Liberty.”

“Yeah, where do you think your ancestors came from?!” Aegon yells at the man. “Are you a Seminole, pal? I didn’t think so—!” Fosco and Criston lug him through the doorway before more punches can be thrown.

Outside—under stars and streetlights and a full moon—Aegon burst out laughing. This is when he feels alive; this is when the blood in his veins turns to wave and riptides. You didn’t think to grab napkins from the table, so you wipe the blood off his face with your bare hand, assessing the damage. He’ll be fine; swollen and sore, but fine.

“You’re insane, you know that?” you say. “You could have been killed.”

Aegon pats your cheek twice and grins, blood on his teeth. “The world would keep spinning, little Io.” Then he starts walking back towards the White House Hotel.

~~~~~~~~~~

When the four of you arrive at your suite, Aemond, Otto, Ludwika, and Alicent are still gathered around the television. The nannies have taken the children to bed. Helaena is reading The Bell Jar in an armchair in the corner of the room. Mimi is passed out on the couch, several empty glasses on the coffee table. ABC is showing a clip they recorded earlier today of Ludwika travelling with Aemond’s retinue after he made an impassioned speech condemning the lack of recognition of the evils of slavery at Beauvoir, the historic home of former Confederate president Jefferson Davis. The reporter is asking Ludwika what she thinks makes Aemond a better presidential candidate than Eugene McCarthy, as McCarthy shares many of the same policy positions and has an additional 15 years of political experience.

“This McCarthy is not a real man,” Ludwika responds, her face stony and mistrustful. “He reminds me of the communists back in my country. Did you know he met with Che Guevara in New York City a few years ago? Why would he do such a thing?”

Now, Otto turns to her in this hotel room. “I love you.”

Ludwika takes a sip of her martini. “I want another Gucci bag.”

“Yes, yes. Tomorrow, my dear.”

“What happened to you?” Aemond asks his brother, half-exasperated and half-concerned. Criston has fetched a washcloth from the bathroom for Aegon to hold against his bleeding lip and nose. Aemond is still wearing his blue suit from a long day of campaigning, but he’s taken out his eye and put on his eyepatch. His gaze flicks from Aegon’s face to the blood still coating your left hand. On the couch, Mimi’s bare foot twitches but she doesn’t wake up.

“There was a Wallace supporter at the Dairy Queen,” you say. “Aegon felt inspired to defend you.”

Aemond chuckles. “Did you win?” he asks Aegon.

“I would have if the guy wasn’t two of me.”

On the television screen, Richard Nixon is accepting his party’s nomination for president at the Republican National Convention in Miami, Florida.

“He’s a buffoon,” Otto sneers. “So awkward and undignified. Look at him sweating! Look at those ridiculous jowls! And he comes from nothing. His family is trash.”

“Americans love a rags to riches story,” you say. And then, somewhat randomly: “He loves his wife. He proposed to Pat on their very first date, and she said no. So he drove her to dates with other men for years until she finally reconsidered. He said it was love at first sight. He’s never had a mistress. And jowls or no jowls, his family adores him.”

Aegon turns to you, still clutching the washcloth against his face. “Really?”

You nod. “That’s the sort of thing the women talk about.”

There’s a knock at the door. You all look at each other, confounded; no one has ordered room service, no one is expecting any visitors, and the nannies have keys in the event of an emergency. Fosco is closest to the door, so he opens it. A man in uniform is standing there with a golden Western Union telegram in his hands. Alicent screams and collapses. Criston bolts to her.

“It’s okay,” you say. “He’s not dead. Whatever happened, Daeron’s not dead.”

Otto crinkles his brow at you. “How do you know?”

“Because if he was killed, there would be a priest here too.” They always send a priest when the boy is dead. Aegon glances at you, eyes wet and fearful.

“Ma’am,” the soldier—a major you see now, spotting the golden oak leaves—says to Alicent as he removes his cap. “I regret to inform you that your son Daeron was missing in action for several weeks, and we’ve just received confirmation that he’s being held as a prisoner of war in Hỏa Lò Prison.”

“He’s in the Hanoi Hilton?!” Otto exclaims. “Oh, fuck those people and their swamp, how did Kennedy ever think we had something to gain from getting tangled up in that mess?”

“But he’s alive?” Aemond says. “He’s unharmed?”

“Yes sir,” the captain replies. “It is our understanding that he is in good condition. The North Vietnamese are aware that he is a very valuable prisoner, like Admiral McCain’s son John. He’ll be used in negotiations. He is of far more use to them alive than dead.”

“So we can get Daeron back,” Aegon says. “I mean, we have to be able to, right? Aemond’s running for president, he’ll probably win in November, we have millions of dollars, we can spring one man out of some third-world jail, right?”

The captain continues: “Tomorrow when your family returns to New Jersey, the Joint Chiefs of Staff will be there to discuss next steps with you. I’m afraid I’m only authorized to give you the news as it was relayed to me.” He entrusts the telegram to Otto, who rapidly opens it and stares down at the mechanical typewriter words.

“I have to pray,” Alicent says suddenly. “Helaena, will you pray with me? There’s a Greek church down the road. Holy Trinity, I think it’s called.”

Obediently, Helaena joins her mother and follows her to the doorway. Criston leaves with them. Otto gives his new wife a harsh, meaningful stare. Ludwika, an ardent yet covert atheist, sighs irritably. “Wait. I want to pray too,” she says, and vanishes with them into the hall.

As the captain departs, Mimi sits up on the couch, blinking, groggy. “What? What happened?”

“Go with Alicent,” Otto tells her. “She’s headed downstairs.”

“What? Why…?”

“Just go!” he barks.

Mimi staggers to her feet and hobbles out of the hotel room, her sundress—patterned with forget-me-nots—billowing around her. The only people left are Otto, Aemond, Fosco, Aegon, and you. The fact that you are the sole woman permitted to remain here feels intentional.

After a moment, Otto speaks. “You know, John McCain has famously refused to be released from the Hanoi Hilton until all the men imprisoned before him have been freed. He doesn’t want special treatment. And that’s a very noble thing to do, don’t you think? It has endeared him and the McCains to the public.”

Aemond and Otto are looking at each other, communicating in a silent language not of letters or accents but colors: red ambition, green hunger, grey impassionate morality. Fosco is observing them uneasily. Aemond says at last: “Daeron wants to help this family.”

“You’re not going to try to get him out.” Aegon realizes.

Aemond turns to him, businesslike, vague distant sympathy. “It’s only until November.”

“No, you know people!” Aegon explodes. “You pick up the phone, you call in every favor, you get him out of there now! You have no idea if he has another three months, you don’t know what kind of shape he’s in! They could be dislocating his arms or chopping off his fingers right now, they could be starving him, they could be beating him, you can’t just leave him there!”

“It’s not your decision. It could have been, had you accepted your role as the eldest son. But you didn’t. So it’s my job to handle these things. You don’t get to hate me for making choices you were too cowardly too take responsibility for.”

“But Daeron could die,” Aegon says, his voice going brittle.

“Any of us could die. We’re in a very dangerous line of work. Greatness killed Lincoln, Garfield, McKinley, Huey Long, Medgar Evers, John F. Kennedy, Malcolm X, Vernon Dahmer, Martin Luther King Jr., does that mean we should all give up the fight? Of course not. The work isn’t finished. We have to keep going.”

“Will you stop pretending this is about America?! This is about you wanting to be president, and everything you’ve ever done has been in pursuit of that trophy, and you keep shoving new people into the line of fire and it’s not right!”

“Aegon,” Otto says calmly. “It’s unlikely we’d be able to get him out before the election anyway. Negotiations take time. But if Aemond wins in November, he’ll be in a very advantageous position. The North Vietnamese aren’t stupid. They wouldn’t kill the brother of a U.S. president. They don’t want their vile little corner of the world flattened by nukes.”

“Still, it feels so wrong to leave a brother in peril,” Fosco says. “It is unnatural. Of course Aegon will be upset. We could at least see what a deal to get Daeron released would entail, maybe his arrival home would be a good headline—”

“And who the fuck asked you?” Otto demands, and Fosco goes quiet.

“Okay, then tell Mom,” Aegon says to Aemond. “Tell her you’re going to pretend Daeron made some self-sacrificial vow not to come home until all the other POWs can too. Tell her you’re going to let him get tortured for a few months before you take this seriously.”

Aemond replies cooly: “Why would you want to upset her? She can’t change it. You’ll only make her suffering worse.”

“What do you think?” Otto asks you, and you know that he isn’t seeking counsel. He’s summoning you like a dog to perform a trick, like an actor to recite a line. He’s waiting for you to say that it’s a smart strategy, because it is. He’s waiting for you to bend to Aemond’s will as your station requires you to, as moons are bound to their planets.

“I think it’s wrong,” you murmur; and Aemond is thunderstruck by your treason.

Without another word, you walk into the bathroom, turn on the sink, and gaze down at Aegon’s blood on your palm. For some reason, it’s very difficult to bring yourself to wash it away.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s mid-August now, the world painted in goldenrod yellow and sky blue. The Democratic National Convention is in two weeks. You and Aemond are posing on the beach at Asteria, surrounded by an adoring gaggle of journalists who are snapping photographs and jotting down quotes on their notepads. You’re sitting demurely on a sand dune, you’re building sandcastles with the children you borrowed from Aegon and Helaena, you’re flying kites, you’re gazing confidently into the sunlit horizon where a glorious new age is surely dawning.

“Mr. Targaryen, what is it that makes your partnership so successful?” a journalist asks as flashbulbs pulse like lightning. “What do you think is the most crucial characteristic to have in a wife?”

Aemond doesn’t need to consider this before he answers. He always has his compliment picked out. “Loyalty,” your husband says. “Not just to me or to the Targaryen family, but to our shared cause. This year has been indescribably difficult for me and my wife. I announced my candidacy, we embarked on a strenuous national campaign that we’re currently only halfway through, I barely survived a brutal assassination attempt in May, in July we lost our first child to hyaline membrane disease after he was born six weeks prematurely, and at the beginning of this month we learned that my youngest brother Daeron was taken by the North Vietnamese as a prisoner of war. To find the strength not just to get out of bed in the morning, not just to be there for me and this family in our personal lives, but to tirelessly traverse the country with me inspiring Americans to believe in a better future…it’s absolutely remarkable. I’m in awe of her. And when she is the first lady of the United States, she will continue to amaze us all with her unwavering faith and dedication.”

There are whistles and cheers and strobing flashbulbs. You smile—elegant, soft, practiced—as Aemond rests a hand firmly on your waist. You lean into him, feeling out-of-place, bewildered that you’ve ever slept with him, full of dull panic that soon you’ll have to again.

“How about you, Mrs. Targaryen?” another reporter asks. “Same question, essentially. What is the trait that you most admire in your husband?”

And in the cascading clicks of photographs being captured, your mind goes entirely blank. You can think of so many other people—Aegon, Ari, Alicent, Daeron, Fosco, Cosmo—but not Aemond. It’s like you’ve blocked him out somehow, like he’s a sketch you erased. But you can’t hesitate. You can’t let the uncertainty read on your face. You begin speaking without knowing where you’re going, something that is rare for you. “Aemond is the most tenacious person I’ve ever met. When he has a goal in mind, nothing can stop him.” You pause, and there are a few awkward chuckles from the journalists. You swiftly recover. “He never stops learning. He always knows the right thing to do or say. And what he wants more than anything is to serve the American people. Aemond won’t disappoint you. He’s not capable of it. He will do whatever it takes to make this country more prosperous, more peaceful, and more free.”

There are applause and gracious thank yous, but Aemond gives you a look—just for a second, just long enough that you can catch it—that warns you to get it together. Fifteen minutes later, he and the flock of reporters are headed to one of the guest houses to conduct a long-form interview. This will be the bulk of the article; you will appear in one or two photos, you will supply a few quotes. The rest of the story is Aemond. You are an accessory, like a belt or a bracelet. He’s the person who picks you out of a drawer each morning and wears you until you go out of fashion.

Released from your obligations, you return to the main house and disappear into your upstairs bathroom. You are there for fifteen minutes and emerge rattled, routed. You pace aimlessly around your bedroom for a while, then try again; still no luck. You go back outside and stare blankly at the ocean, wondering what you’re going to do. Down on the beach, Fosco is teaching the kids how to yo-yo. Ludwika is sunbathing in a bikini.

“What’s wrong with you?”

You whirl to see Aegon, popping a Valium into his mouth and washing it down with a splash of straight rum from a coffee mug. “Huh? Nothing. I’m great.”

“No, something’s wrong. You look lost. You look like me.”

You gaze out over the ocean again, chewing your lower lip.

Aegon snickers, fascinated, sensing a scandal. “What did you do?”

Your eyes drift to him. “You can’t make fun of me.”

“Okay. I won’t.”

There is a long, heavy lull before you answer. When you speak, it’s all in a rush, like you can’t unburden yourself of the words fast enough. “I put a tampon in and I can’t get it out.”

Aegon immediately breaks his promise and cackles. “You did what?!” Then he tries to be serious. “Wait. Sorry. Uh, really?”

You’re on the verge of tears. “I’ve been bleeding since I had the baby, and I hate using tampons, I almost never do, but Aemond wanted me to wear this dress for the photoshoot and it’s super gauzy and from certain angles I felt like I could see the pad bulge when I checked in the mirror, so I put a tampon in for the first time in probably a year. I’m not even supposed to be using them for another few weeks because my uterus isn’t healed all the way or whatever. And now I can’t get it out and it’s been in there for like six hours and I’m scared I’m going to get an infection and die in the most pointless, humiliating way imaginable.”

“Okay, calm down, calm down,” Aegon says. “There’s no string?”

“No, I’ve checked multiple times. It must be a defective one and they forgot to put a string in it at the factory and I didn’t notice, or the string somehow got tucked under it, I don’t know, but I can’t get it out, it’s like…the angle isn’t right. I can just barely feel it with my fingertips, but I can’t grab it. I’m going to have to go to the hospital to get it taken out, but I’m scared word will spread and journalists will show up to get photos when I leave and then everyone will be asking me why I was at the emergency room to begin with and I’m going to have to make up something and…and…” You can’t talk anymore. There are other reasons why you don’t want to go to the hospital. You haven’t stepped foot in one since Ari died; the thought makes you feel like you are looking down to see blood on your thighs all over again, like you’ll never have enough air in your lungs.

“Did you bleed through it? Because that should help it slide out easier.”

“I don’t know,” you moan miserably. “I mean, I guess I did, because there was blood when I checked a few minutes ago. I had to stuff my underwear with toilet paper.”

“Why didn’t you just tell Aemond you couldn’t wear this dress?”

You give him an impatient glance. “I’m tired of having the same conversation.” When do you think you’ll be done bleeding? When do you think it’ll be time to start trying again?

Aegon sighs. “Do you want me to get it out for you?”

“Please stop. I’m really panicking here.”

“I’m not joking.”

You stare at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I have fished many objects out of many orifices, you cannot shock me. I am unshockable.”

“I’d rather walk down to the sand right now and strangle myself with Fosco’s yo-yo.”

“Okay. So who are you gonna ask to drive you to the hospital?”

You hesitate.

“I’d offer to do it,” Aegon says, grinning, holding up his mug. “But I’m in no condition to drive.”

“But you are in the proper condition to extract a rogue tampon, huh?”

“Two minutes tops. That’s a guarantee. My personal best is fifteen seconds. And that was for a lost condom, much trickier to locate than a tampon.”

Perhaps paradoxically, the more you consider his offer, the more tempting it seems. No complicated trip and cover story? Over in just a few minutes? “If you ever tell anyone about this, I will never forgive you. I will hate you forever.”

Aegon taunts: “I thought you already hated me.”

You aren’t sure what you feel for him, but it’s certainly not hate. Not anymore. “Where would we do it?”

“In my office. And by that I mean my basement.”

“Your filthy, disease-ridden basement? On your shag carpet full of crabs?”

“You’re in luck,” he jokes. “My crab exterminator service just came by yesterday.”

You exhale in a low, despairing groan.

“Hey, would you rather do it on the dining room table? I’m game. Your choice.”

You watch the seagulls swooping in the afternoon air, the banners of sailboats on the glittering water. “Okay. The basement.”

You walk with Aegon to the house and—after ensuring that no one is around to notice—sneak with him down the creaking basement steps, the door locked behind you. Aegon is darting around; he sets a small trashcan by the carpet and tosses you two towels, then goes to wash his hands in his tiny bathroom, not nearly enough room for someone to stretch out across the linoleum floor.

You’re surveying the scene nervously. “I don’t want to get blood all over your stuff.”

“You’re the cleanest thing that’s ever been on that carpet. Lie down.”

You place one towel on the green shag carpet, then whisk off your panties, discard the bloody knot of toilet paper in the trashcan, and pull the skirt of your dress up around your waist so it’s out of the way. Then you sit down and drape the second towel over your thighs so you’re hidden from him, like you’re about to be examined by a doctor. Your heart is thumping, but you don’t exactly feel like you want to stop. It’s more exhilarating than fear, you think; it is forbidden, it is shameful, it is a microscopic betrayal of Aemond that he’ll never know about.

Aegon moseys out of the bathroom, flicking drops of water from his hands. He wears one of his usual counterculture uniforms: a frayed green army jacket with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, khaki shorts, tan moccasins. He kicks them off before he kneels on the shag carpet. He checks the clock on the wall. “2:07. I promised two minutes max. Let’s see how I do. Ready?”

You rest the back of your head on your linked hands, raise your knees, take a deep and unsteady breath. “Ready.”

But he can see that you’re shaking. “Hey,” Aegon says kindly, pressing his hand down on the towel so you’re covered. “Do you want me to go to the hospital with you? I’ll try to distract people. I’ll pretend I’m having a seizure or something.”

“No, I’m okay,” you insist. “I just want it out. I want this over with.”

“Got it.” And then he begins. He stares at the wall to his left, not looking at you, navigating by feel. You feel the pressure of two fingers, a stretching that is not entirely unpleasant. He’s warm and careful, strangely unobtrusive. Still, you suck in a breath and shift on the carpet. “Shh, shh, shh,” Aegon whispers, skimming his other hand up and down the inside of your thigh, and shiver like you’ve never felt before rolls backwards up the length of your spine. “Relax. You alright?”

“Fine. Totally fine.”

“Oh yeah, it’s definitely in there,” Aegon says. His brow is creased with comprehension. “No string…you’re right, it must either be tangled up somehow or it never had one to begin with. Maybe you accidentally inserted it upside down.”

“Now you insult my intelligence. As if I’m not embarrassed enough.”

“I should have put on a record to set the mood. What gets you going, Marvin Gaye? Elvis?”

“The seductive voice of Richard Milhous Nixon. Maybe you can get him on the phone.”

Aegon laughs hysterically. His fingertips push the tampon against your cervix and you yelp. “Sorry, sorry, my mistake,” Aegon says. There are beads of sweat on his forehead, on his temples; now his eyes are squeezed shut. “I’m gonna try to wiggle it out…”

As he works, there are sensations you can’t quite explain: a very slow-building indistinct desire, a loosening, a readying, a drop in your belly when you think about the fact that he’s the one touching you. Then he happens to press in just the right spot and there is a sudden pang of real pleasure—craving, aching, a deep red flare of previously unfathomable temptation—and you instinctively reach for him. Your hand meets his forearm, and for the first time since he started Aegon looks at your face, alarmed, afraid that he’s hurt you again. But once your eyes meet you’re both trapped there, and you can’t pretend you’re not, his fingers still inside you, his pulse racing, a rivulet of sweat snaking down the side of his face, his eyes an opaque murky blue like water you’re desperate to claw your way into. You know what you want to tell him, but the words are impossible. Don’t stop. Come closer.

Aegon clears his throat, forces himself to look away, and at last dislodges the tampon. It appears dark and bloody in his grasp. “No string,” he confirms, holding it up and turning it so you can see. “Factory reject.”

“Just like you.”

He glances at the clock. “2:09. I delivered precisely what was promised.” He chucks the tampon into the trashcan and then grins as he helps pull you upright with his clean hand. “So do you like to cuddle afterwards, or…?”

You’re giggling, covering your flushed face. “Shut up.”

“Personally, I enjoy being ridden into the ground and then called a good boy.”

“Go away.” You nod to where he disposed of the tampon and say before stopping to think: “You’re not going to keep that under your ashtray too?”

Aegon freezes and blinks at you. He smiles slowly, cautiously. “No, I think that would be a little unorthodox, even for me.” He pitches you a clean washcloth from the bathroom closet. “That should get you upstairs.”

“Thanks.” You shove it between your legs and rise to your feet, smoothing the skirt of your dress. “I owe you something. I’m not sure what, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Hey,” Aegon says, and waits for you to turn to him. “Maybe I’m not that bad.”

“Maybe,” you agree thoughtfully.

Just before you hurry upstairs, you steal a glimpse of Aegon in the bathroom, the door kicked only half-closed. He has turned on the water, but he’s not using it yet. Aegon is staring down at the blood on his hand, half-dried scarlet impermanent ink.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hi, it’s me again. I’m in solitary confinement. There’s a guy in the cell next to mine; we talk to each other with a modified version of Morse code. Tap tap tap on the wall, he taps back, etcetera etcetera, you get the idea. You’re not going to believe this, but he says his name is John McCain. Well, actually, he told me his name is Jobm McCbin, but I think that’s because I translated the taps wrong. I might be in the Hanoi Hilton, but at least they have me in the VIP section! Hahaha.

Every few hours the guards show up to do a very impressive magic trick: they wave their batons like wands, I turn black and blue. Sometimes one of my teeth even disappears. Isn’t that something? Houdini would love it. There’s a rat that I’m making friends with. I give her nibbles of my stale bread, she gives me someone to talk to. She’s good company. I’ve named her Tessarion.

Allow me to make something absolutely fucking clear.

I would very much like to be rescued.

[lecsainz]

if you can make one with Travis Kelce and reader where they have a baby and reader goes into labor with the baby

ITS TIME

˒ ⌕ masterlist . . .

parings: travis kelce x wife!reader

summary: that one where you're pregnant and it's time to meet your little one.

an: I went with Travis and Y/N having a five-year-old kid. I know you asked for a baby, but I wasn't sure how to do it and I just loved how the story evolved, so I didn't have the heart to change it. Hope you like it.

type: fluff ಇ

It was a typical morning, much like many others during your pregnancy. You got up and watched your husband sleeping as you searched for your slippers to head downstairs and start making breakfast for the family, despite Travis's wishes.

Travis didn't want you to exert yourself during the pregnancy – it was the same during Aiden's and now during Ivy's.

You were beating some eggs when you heard the little steps of Aiden coming down the stairs.

"Mommy! Is today the day?" the little one asked excitedly, hugging your leg. Ever since Aiden overheard your conversation with Donna that Ivy would arrive by the end of December, he became super protective of you.

"Not yet," you said with a smile, bending down to pick up the 5-year-old.

"She's taking too long," he pouted, running his hand over your belly. "Daddy promised she'd come faster." That made you laugh, earning a scowl from your son.

"I think it's time for Daddy to wake up, don't you think?" You innocently asked Aiden.

And you watched the little one run upstairs to wake up his father.

While you were setting the coffee table, you were surprised by a pair of muscular arms hugging you from behind and a kiss on your neck from your husband.

"Good morning, dear," Travis said with a huge smile.

"Good morning, Mr. Kelce." You turned and gave him a brief kiss on the lips, receiving an "Eww" from Aiden, making both of you laugh.

The rest of the day flew by; Travis had training with the Chiefs, so you spent the afternoon playing with Aiden, who bombarded you with questions about his sister.

As soon as the clock struck six, you decided it was time to prepare dinner, but the moment you got up from the carpet where you were building Legos with Aiden, you felt liquid running down your leg.

"Mommy? Did you pee?" Aiden looked curious.

And before you could respond, you heard the garage gate opening by Travis. "Honey, I'm home!" He shouted from the garage.

"I think it's time," you told him as he walked through the kitchen door.

"Time for what?" He looked at you, clearly not understanding.

"Mommy peed," Aiden said excitedly as if sharing a secret.

"OH MY GOD, IT'S TIME!" Travis realized and started panicking. "SHOULD I CALL YOUR PARENTS? OR MINE? I NEED TO TAKE YOU TO THE HOSPITAL!" Travis began frantically searching for the phone.

You found his hysteria amusing. "Travis, your phone is in your pocket," you approached and touched his shoulder. "Everything will be fine. We've done this once, and we'll manage again," you reassured calmly.

"Oh, dear, how are you so calm?" He asked, laughing.

"I'll get Ivy's bag," you said as you headed to the adjacent office. "Call your parents to stay with Aiden at the hospital!" You yelled to Travis.

"Can I bring my Legos?" Aiden asked, holding the plastic pieces, and when Travis called his mom. "Of course, buddy."

"Is Ivy coming?" Aiden ran after you to ask. "I think she already senses that you're getting ready to be an official big brother, sweetheart," you replied to him. "Ivy is coming!" Aiden ran off excitedly.

"Are we ready?" Travis asked as he helped you to the car, despite the small delay caused by your disagreement – him wanting to carry you to the car and you preferring to walk to dilate faster. "More than ever," you said, giving your husband a kiss.

[laelelinae]

please do twin dad!kuroo hcs

Have a good day/night

Twin dad Kuroo HC!

Not proof read!

HUHUHU I LOVE THIS!! GONNA MAKE A LITTLE BONUS!

Working on the rest of your requests soon💞💞

when he first found out your pregnant (you surprised him) he literally flew out from the sofa like IT WAS SO FUNNY

Literally started celebrating and jumping around hugging you,spinning you around 😭

LMFAO PROBABLY TOLD KENMA AND KENMA WAS LIKE “oh so you did the taco and burrito” (ykyk. 😣)

He surely went to pregnancy checkups,did your cravings together,always service you and just comforts you when your sick🫶🏻

But the thing is..he noticed your belly was WAYY bigger then how normal pregnancy bellies

Soo..when one of the checkups..

“Congrats ma’am ,you have twins”

His jaw DROPPED to the GROUND!!

He was literally jumping around like a literal rabbit ,telling everyone.

After knowing is twins instead of one child ,probably went more intense caring about you.

Soo..during the gender reveal party..well iconic,it was a cake

Kenma was holding his laugh in for some reason (docs told Kenma about the gender)

Honestly kuroo didn’t mind any gender in general ,is his and yours kid. He would just love them to death.

And..when you cut the cake..it was pinks AND blue?!

Boy,Kenma laughed like a monkey💀and he said

“Is a boy and a girl”

KUROO FUCKING FLEW OUT OF HAPPINESS ONG.

..okay after months of literal hell,you gave birth and Kuroo was holding his shit in to not cry.

. . . .

After a few years,your kids are 5 years old now!

And the boy surely was more attached to you yet he loves his dad,and the girl surely was attached to Kuroo more

Kuroo has tea parties and dresses up as a princess with your daughter AWWW!😭🫶🏻🫶🏻

He probably plays volleyball with your son,sometimes your daughter if she’s willing to.

Doesn’t have favorite,loves both equally a LOT.

Spoils the kids so much you lecture Kuroo about it

They have their own room with their favorite color (kuroo took HOURS to decorate them and make them good)

Brings the two to get ice cream often😭

Probably brings them to parks and his friends volleyball matches

His friends loves them :) (not the Drake way)

ESPECIALLY HINATA AND KENMA(SURPRISINGLY?!)

Made your kids called Kenma their uncle!! (Lowkey Kenma felt proud)

Honestly didn’t want to watch the kids grow up,he loved them running around the house.

OH YEAH!! The girls first word was papa and the boy was “mama” LMFAO

Always gives the best surprise to your kids,your kids loves your dad and Kuroo loves them too <333

BUTT when they were teenagers !! (13)

The type to say “no girlfriends or boyfriends till your 30”

“Dad,what the hell” THATS ALL HE GOT IN RESPOND

The type to also say “back in my days!!😔”

Whenever your not home,probably eats the most unhealthiest shit ever with them

Probably owns a “best dad ever shirt” AND A FUCKING MUG

The type to make dad jokes 👎

Probably tells his son about his teenage years in secret since his daughter probably does not gaf

Your son is probably more calm and mature but has a silly side and your daughter has a more bold and silly girl in general yk?

Leaves the daughter to you once she hits puberty yk? Girls girls <3

Probably practice volleyball with the two often!

Whenever Kuroo brought some stuff home from groceries and your kids try them and say like “oh ! This js pretty good dad!”

Next day,he buys PACKS of them 💀

When you guys were just all in the living room together he randomly mentioned how hard it was to ask you out on the date

And your daughter went like “of course dad,your a literal loser and mom is a literal goddess”

Your son calmly agreed 💀

He was SO OFFENDED!!

He would still pick them up even when they are in middle school,he sometimes would drive them to school!

Probably might not be the most emotional support father but he tries his best! <3

Literally would beat up that person if they ever make fun of your kid 💀

Goes on morning runs with your son whenever he can

Your kid still love their “uncle” kenma LMFAO

And your so glad kuroo gets along really well with your kids <3

Oh god you just love them 😭

[ghostfacd]

NEVER GROW UP (LIVVY’S VERSION)

au masterlist

author’s note: oh my!! wasn’t even expecting to write this, much less post this today but i got a sudden wave of energy? olivia hughes is the moment and she’ll always be the moment, this made me a bit emotional bc i hold this au close to my heart. as always, enjoy!

Olivia Hughes was born just a year after Luke, coming out a 7 pound baby with tufts of brown hair.

When Olivia was 3, the boys and her were playing indoor hockey in their living room. Olivia and Quinn were on one team, and Jack and Luke were on the other. Luke had thrown a fit, pushing Quinn out of the way to claim that he wanted to be in a team with his Livvy but Quinn only stuck out his tongue, announcing the start of the game.

The boys had gone fairly mild when playing with their baby sister, knowing that if they had played as rough as they usually did, it wouldn’t end up so well. When Ellen had called them for dinner, the score ended up being 10 to 4. Obviously, Quinn and Olivia won.

“Not fair!” Jack exclaims, puffing his cheeks out in annoyance. He threw the small hockey stick to the ground, running to the kitchen to grab his dinner.

“Lu wanna play with my Livvy next,” Luke says, motioning between him and Olivia. “My livvy. Not yours, Quinny.”

Quinn only flicks the small blonde boy’s forehead, giggling as he made his way to the kitchen.

“How was the game?” Ellen asked, smiling brightly as she watched her kids dig in a hurry. “Must’ve been real fun considering how fast you guys are eating.”

“It was mama!” Jack exclaims, his eyes wide with joy. “But Quinny no fair. Quinny always wins.”

“I’m sure that he plays fair, Jack.” Ellen smiles, ruffling her son’s hair. “Did you like it Luke?”

“Yes!” Luke places his hands together excitedly. “But next time, Lu gon’ play with Livvy. My Livvy.” He turn to hug Olivia, who was sitting right next to him.

Luke had called Olivia “Livvy” when she turned 2, stating that she was his baby and that he was going to take care of her until he grew old. Ellen and Jim, who were surprised at their young son’s statement, only smiled in relief, knowing their daughter had brothers she could rely on.

“Oh Luke and Livvy,” Ellen sighs to herself. “Never grow up.”

- - -

When Jack was in his sophomore year of high school, he had bumped into a pretty girl in the library, who he claimed was the “most prettiest girl he’s ever seen” besides his mom and Olivia. Olivia geeked, knowing that she might be able to have another girl who she could bond with if Jack managed to date the library girl he was so adamant on talking about.

Rory was what Jack called her, and Rory was just as beautiful as Jack claimed she was. Olivia knew that she was perfect for her brother, and that Rory was going to stick around for a really long time—well, at least she hoped so.

When Olivia got her first boyfriend, a boy named Max on the baseball team during the eighth grade, all her brothers had freaked.

“Boyfriend? You’re like 5!” Quinn exclaimed, his eyes widened in concern.

“I’m 13, Q.” The girl rolled her eyes, tapping her foot impatiently.

“Did he force you to date him? It’s okay Livvy, you can tell your big brother Luke. I will beat him up for you.”

“You’re like a freshman in high school Luke, you can’t do shit.” That got Jack an elbow to the rib, which made the middle boy let out a groan of pain. “Asshole.”

It’s safe to say that Max didn’t stick around for that long, and the pair broke up after graduating middle school, as Max was going to a different high school and Livvy knew she couldn’t do long distance.

It wasn’t until Olivia dated Gabe Perreault that she knew he was the one. He was a pretty boy with the nicest brunette hair Olivia had seen known to man. Maybe she was over exaggerating, but Gabe Perreault was an absolute catch.

The Hughes boys had obviously protested once again, claiming that Gabe wasn’t good enough for Olivia, and he just would never be. It was the first time she brought home a hockey boy, and that heightened her brothers’ fears, knowing the kind of guys some hockey boys could be.

What they didn’t know was that Gabe liked Livvy so much that he switched from Boston College to go to Princeton just so he could be closer to her. He dropped all his plans in a heartbeat, just to see Livvy smile.

He bought her white tulips on Tuesdays, her favorite, because Tuesdays were the only day his schedule didn’t really get in the way.

And when Gabe had overheard what her brothers had said about him, it felt like a stab to the chest. It hurt—like hell.

Livvy didn’t know what to do at first. Her brothers, the 3 she’s known her entire life, or Gabe? The boy that she loved just as dearly?

They ended up taking a break; but after a day, Livvy couldn’t take it and had to make amends with her boyfriend. How could she not miss the sweet boy he was?

“I know it’s not a Tuesday, Livs.” Gabe begins, a smile plays on his lips. “But I got you flowers.” And when her brothers saw their sister jump into the arms of the hockey player, they thought maybe he wasn’t so bad, and maybe they could even bond over their shared love for hockey.

“She’s growing up,” Quinn says, elbowing Jack softly.

“I wish she never grew up,” Jack jokes, though his eyes seem to water at the pondering of his baby sister finally growing up and finding the love of her life.

- - -

Rory and Olivia had became inseparable ever since Jack and Rory had started dating. When Rory first headed off to Umich for college, Olivia had packed loads of snacks and microwaveable meals in her luggage, hugging the older girl tightly as if she were her lifeline.

“Don’t forget about me back here!” Olivia joked, though there are a few tears that leave her eyes.

“Oh Liv, you know I could never.” Rory hugged the girl tightly close to her chest. “You’re practically my sister now.”

And when Olivia had received the phone call from her brother Jack after a few weeks of Rory not replying to her messages, she was beyond angry.

“What do you mean you just left her?!” Olivia practically screams into the mic.

“Whoa, what’s wrong Livvy?” Jack hears Luke ask in the background, but he’s too distraught to care.

“I didn’t know how to react when she brought up the pregnancy,” Jack sobs, “my brain just stopped working and I went on autopilot.”

“So you just walked out and didn’t tell her where you were going?” Now Olivia was getting even more angry. “Jack Rowden Hughes, you don’t do that!”

“I know, trust me, I know.”

“Well it seems like you don’t, Jack.”

And the next few hours are spent with Olivia lecturing her older brother, who’s currently in shambles at the home of his friend in Michigan. He didn’t know what to do, he wasn’t ready to be a father, not yet, not now.

But after Olivia told him that he was now an adult and he had to get his shit together, Jack realized she was right.

“You’re growing up Livs,” Jack sniffed. “You really are.”

“I’ve always been grown,” Olivia says, her eyes crinkled. “You were just all too busy to notice. Now get your girl back, J.”

And that’s all Jack needed to hear before heading to Rory.

- - -

The one time Olivia had visited Quinn in Vancouver, they were surrounded by cameras and news reporters eager to get a word out from the two Hughes.

Olivia sighed, having 3 brothers in the spotlight was clearly something. But she was proud of them, she really was.

It was all fine until a lady had asked, “your parents have played hockey and all three of your brothers are in the NHL, Olivia. How does it feel to be the only one in your family who doesn’t play the sport? Do you feel like a black sheep? Do you ever regret it?”

And Olivia is taken aback, wondering why it mattered so much to them that she didn’t play hockey. She just wasn’t interested, and that was all there was to that.

Quinn was about to say a remark against the woman when Olivia speaks up, not wanting it to break out in an argument.

“No, I never feel like the black sheep. My parents and brothers have always supported me in what I do, even if it’s not hockey. I’m currently majoring in history and diplomacy and I’m extremely happy with my choice, whether you guys are fine with that or not. Thank you.”

And that’s when Quinn Hughes realizes Olivia isn’t a baby anymore, and that he doesn’t have to speak for her anymore. Olivia Hughes was intelligent, well spoken, and even though Quinn would hate to admit it, his baby sister was truly growing up.

[anurst]

Girl Bradshaw

Summary: memories of Russia start to resurface and you decided to take a step and talk to Pete. How does he react?

Pairing(s): jake seresin x (fem)(bradshaw) reader

Warning(s): language, PTSD, nightmares, daddy issues, absent father figure, violence/abuse against reader (don't read if you're not comfortable with violence/abuse)

Part 5: Tears for the father

It's cold. So very cold. Your body's shivering and your undergarments do little to provide you warmth. You don't know much time has passed and you feel your body fading. Shit, you want to be back in Oceanside with everyone. You want to be eating Mexican food at the Ruiz family restaurant with everyone and laughing. You want your family.

Your body's weak and you feel your eyes getting heavy. No, you can't close your eyes. If you do, you won't ever open them again. It doesn't sound so bad, now that you think about. You'll finally be with your mom and dad again. The pain has long since faded and you let out a shuddering breath. Jensen will understand. He and everyone will understand if you close your eyes. But, your heart aches. You don't want to leave them. Not yet. There's still so much you haven't done.

You think about how Bradley will find out. Will they show up at his doorstep with news of your death? Will it be your team who tells him? Is he even going to be the one to answer the door? Maybe his partner will, or his kid. A weak chuckle escapes your lips as you think of Bradley's potential children. Without a doubt he'd name them after your late parents.

Or maybe it's Pete who's doorstep they set on. Your beloved godfather. You remember your mom telling you that when you were born, Pete cried tears as he held your small body. He whispered sweet nothings to you as Nick asked him to be your godfather.

"My baby chick," a sweet voice says from somewhere in the dark, small room. You know that voice, you've heard it before. But, you don't who it belongs to. "It's okay," it reassures and you nod. It's ok to let go.

You head shoots up at the sound of footsteps coming closer. Not now, please, not now. You're not sure if you could survive another beating. Your breathing picks up before you force yourself to get a grip.

The door opens and you stare at the dark figure. The lights behind the person hide their face and you give them a smug grin. "Couldn't wait to see me again?" you muse, every part of your body aching. The figure snarls and steps into the room. They grab your hair and you yelp as you weakly hit their arm.

"Let's so how much you run your mouth this time, girl."

You jolt up from your bed and press a hand to your chest. It feels like your heart is gonna beat out of your chest. Your fingers curl around the ratty t-shirt that you're wearing. Jensen's scent fills your nostrils and you can feel yourself calm down. He gave you the shirt a while ago but it still smells like him.

The apartment is quiet when you decide to get up. A look at your alarm clock and you see it's 4:30 in the morning. Your body's still trembling and you grab your blanket. Quickly, you make your way to living room and open the cabinets under the TV. For the next couple minutes you're connecting wires to the TV before popping a DVD into the DVD player. You let the video play as you lean against your couch.

"Baby, you are beautiful. Just like your mama. You're smaller than your brother was when he born. You're like a baby chick! That's what I'll call you, baby chick. My chick." Nick's voice fills your apartment and tears immediately fill you eyes. "I'll always protect you, Chick. I'll always love you." You wipe your tears with the blanket and sniffle.

"I miss you, daddy." You take a deep breath as the video ends and a different one plays. A gentle smile takes over your face as you watch. A five-year old you cluelessly walks across the stage as a ten-year old Bradley and Pete cheer wildly from next to the camera. Carole's giggle can be heard and the camera momentaily shifts from you to them. It goes back to you and wide smile is on your face as you catch sight of your family. You excitedly wave to them and pout as a teacher ushers you off the stage and back to your seat.

You look at the clock hanging up on the wall and read the time. 5:02 AM. You contemplate the sudden thought you had and quickly get up, your blanket dropping to the ground. You rush to get your uniform on and send a quick text to Jensen to not come by later.

The air nips at your skin a little while you're making your way to the gym on base. It's early in the morning and there's only a few people up and around camp. You make it to the gym doors and take a deep breath. Ava's words from last night replay in your head and you open the door.

Pete's grunts are the first thing you hear when you enter. His hair is sweaty and sticking to his forehead. The punching bag swings back violently each time he strikes it and you whistle.

"Wouldn't wanna be that punching bag." Pete's eyes widen as he pants.

"Braidy?" he whispers and you frown a little at the sound of your first name. Pete scrambles to stay something else and you sigh. You take a seat on the bench press next to the punching bags.

"Wanted to come see you," is all you say and Pete nods. He grabs his water bottle from the ground and takes a couple chugs before he wipes his mouth.

"How—uh, how have you been?" Pete cringes at his words. Really? That's the best he can do? He's glad you giggle at his question instead of getting angry. Although, if you did, he'd understand.

You intertwine your fingers and look down at them. "Been better." Well, shit. This is awkward and you're vague replies aren't making this any easier.

"You've got a great team," is the best Pete can think of. He doesn't wanna scare you off. Internally, he's happy beyond belief that you're standing (well, sitting) in front of him. Externally, he's tense and apprehensive. He makes small movements as one would when dealing with a scared animal.

You nod at his compliment. "Been with them for a long time."

"I can tell. They certainly love you."

"Mhmm." You're still staring at your hands with your head down. Pete's lip twitches.

"You ok? You've got that look on your face." You finally look at him and laugh.

"I had this dream. Wasn't a good one and I was watching these old videos that I have. There was one of my kindergarten graduation and I just— needed to see you. Make sure you were real or something. I don't know." Pete frowns at your explanation and takes a step towards you. You flinch at the movement, but the older man isn't deterred. He slowly and softly places a hand on your head and crouches down. You let him wrap his arms around your body and close your eyes.

You've missed him. As much as you tried to deny that you didn't, you did. Pete feels like home. He feels safe. He feels like family. You don't realize you're crying until Pete's wiping away your tears, his own falling softly.

"Why—why'd you leave me?" you whisper, voice broken and timid. Pete frowns as he takes a seat next to you. He wraps his hand in yours and sighs.

"After you called me and told me that what happened with Bradley, I thought that if I left you, that you and Bradley would make up. You're brother and sister, you need each other."

"I needed my dad," you countered. You both stare at each other and Pete smiles softly.

"It hurt me to leave you. You were my little girl, blood or not." Silence follows as you and Pete just sit next to each other. You lick your lips and your leg starts to bounce.

"You and Bradley have been in Miramar for the past two years," you say and Pete let's go of your hand.

"Yes."

"Did you guys think of me while you were together."

"Braidy, I think of you all the time."

"You didn't answer my question."

Pete swallows deeply and a pit grows in the pit of his stomach. "We didn't talk about you." That's all you need to hear before you stand up. You wipe your nose and nod before walking to the door. Pete's quick to grab your wrist and you stop. "Braidy, we miss you. Bradley misses you. Please, just talk to him."

You scoff in response and rip your wrist out of his grip. "It was nice talking to you, Pete." You exit the gym as quickly as you can and walk. You don't where you're going, but you just keep walking.

Taglist: @potato-girl99981 @winterrebel04 @caitsymichelle13 @darhk-angel @madkill44 @cherrycola27 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @clockworkballerina  @krismdavis @phantomxoxo @piceous21 @laneyspaulding19 @multifandomfangirll @moron-says-what @rhirhikingston @startrekfangirl2233 @mightiestheroes @awesomebooklover17 @gizmodear @meritxellao @adaydreamaway08 @letsgomamas @midnightzonzz @imaslytherin0 @thesewordsxlibrary @shawnsblue @theficthatwaspromised @lily-jean94 @havlindzk @hypatia93 @madsothree @oneelleandaneye @a-beaverhausen @dempy @alissa3000 @boltgirl426 @bcon24 @inthestars-underthesun @tsnelf7 @nataddz @topguncultleader @harrysgothicbitch @sadpetalsstuff @rogersbarnesxx @loganrwebb @tom-cruiseishot @thewulf @nikfigueiredo @spencvrr @yogabigooby @coldmuffinbanditshoe @tye-dyemango @blahblechblah @keenmarvellover

[itsfairly]

A Culture of Our Own // Nanami Kento x Latine! F! Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Summary: Intercultural dating is still pretty difficult. But you make it work with Nanami. Today, you do it through music.

Notes: sfw, fluff, f!reader, established relationship, Latine! reader (though it's more Mexican-leaning), intercultural relationship and all that, self-indulgent, Spanish, no translations, not proofread.

A/N: Please note that this is more from my experience, it is also highly self-indulgent. And that is because Nanami is my man, sorry about that. Anyways, also HAPPY LATINO HERITAGE MONTH. this is for us y'all, i did my best for the community. I wanted it to uploaded it on the 15th, but life happened. But hey, I still uploaded this before the month ended, so it's a win.

Dating becomes interesting when you add culture into the mix. Did you think you would end up dating a Japanese man? Especially after a lifetime of your mother asking you to be with someone who spoke Spanish? No. But life had a way to play with you and a way to be nice to you.

Just look at him. Nanami Kento. Someone who was just as handsome on the outside as sweet as they were on the inside. So respectful, so breathtaking, and so dreamy. No one even came close to how much this man makes your heart jump at the sight of him. No, he might not know your native language. But he certainly made you happy and content at his side.

Of course, eventually, you start to explain your cultures outside of the common knowledge and general facts like holidays and etiquette. You start getting into pop culture and what is normally taken for granted in your culture. It's a slow process considering how spontaneous the conversation can be.

From "What does that mean?" when using slang to an inside joke your culture has, little reoccurrences become opportunities to learn more about each other. Sure, you might not be able to fully explain something or understand it, but it doesn't take away that you two start to weave your cultures into the relationship and mix them into one that becomes intrinsic to your dynamic.

Today, you had one of those occurrences when you were cleaning your place and he just happened to come early. When he knocks on the door, you let him in without missing a beat despite being in your full-on cleaning outfit and playlist. A playlist that consisted of old songs your mom used to play when she cleaned such as Bésame Mucho, La Mentira, Si Una Vez, and such. Real classics obviously.

Classics he's not familiar with.

"You're early." You noted with a smile, walking over to your phone and pausing your music.

He looks down at his watch, seeing that he is actually on time. He remembers how much you joke about your family being late to everything or how time is just really abstract for you after years of being told ahorita. A word that could mean anything between 5 minutes to two hours. He chuckles at your words, agreeing with you that he was early for you. The different perception in time between the two of you could be weird at times, but it never really brought many problems considering that both of you (you mostly) put in the effort to accommodate for it.

"Is there something wrong with wanting to see my partner a little early?" He asks, a small smile coming to his face as he walks closer to you, leaving a small kiss on your forehead.

You smile, happy to feel his lips on you once more. "No, but you're seeing me in the most typical way a Latina looks when cleaning. I don't need that image in your mind.

He looks up and down, trying to see this look you're talking about. Sure, you had baggier clothes and your hair was in a bun with a few hairs sticking out and decorating your face. He hums, brushing those hairs back behind your ears.

"I think you're exaggerating considering that we've dated for a while." He raises an eyebrow at you, smirking when he sees that you really think you look messy or bad for just wearing something more comfortable when cleaning. Nothing wrong with that and definitely not making you look ugly in his eyes.

"Still, what if you caught me mid-performance? This playlist doesn't play around, alright? It's classic after classic."

Nanami laughs softly, seeing how serious your face is with your words telling him that you mean every word. Though, now that he thinks about it, he doesn't recognize the songs from the small snippet he heard through the door to the moment you paused the songs. It makes him curious about them.

"Classics?"

You nod before taking your phone and standing by his side to show him your playlist. It is after a couple of swipes down that you realize he can't even read the titles of the songs since they are in Spanish.

"In Latin America." You clarify, getting an idea. You hand him your phone, tilting your head down as to give him permission. "Choose one, we'll put it on right now while I change my clothes."

He takes the phone and raises a brow as he tries to gauge the unfamiliar songs. "I don't even know what I am reading, dear." He deadpans, making you chuckle.

"Then choose one randomly." You say, guiding him to your bedroom so you can pick your clothes.

He looks at the phone, looking through the album covers of the song. He recognizes some of the artists that are part of mainstream pop culture, Shakira being the easiest to recognize. Yet, his finger presses onto a song that he doesn't recognize at all.

But you do and it's obvious from the way you slowly turn to look at him and instantly melt into a light sway of your hips to match the song's slow and romantic rhythm.

"I always knew you were a romantic at heart but I didn't know it came naturally to you." You tease, taking out a shirt and jeans that were much more suitable to go out than the baggier and frankly unflattering clothes. "Let alone that, but you also chose a classic among classics."

Sabor A Mi. Now that's a real gem across Latin America and generations. Guitar strings fill the air with a romantic and sensual sense that warms up the room while the yearning lyrics are contracted by the singer's soft whispers. More than a classic, it's romance 101 in music.

"I take it I chose a good one then." He hums, placing the phone on your nightstand, turning around to face away from you as you change. To him, even if you dated for quite a while now, that didn't give him a right to look. Even if you insisted there was no problem and that you didn't mind, he still turned around out of respect for you. No matter how many times he has seen you out of those clothes, he still wanted to be the gentleman that you first met.

The pure intention made you smile and the song amplified those butterflies in your stomach.

Quickly changing out and into your clothes, you walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and placing your chin on his shoulders. As you begin to sway on the spot with the music, you whisper, "A great one."

He's quick to follow your lead, letting you set the rhythm you have become so used to dancing after a lifetime of hearing boleros like this one. He doesn't have to understand the lyrics to understand how intimate the song is. The guitar strings and soft melodies tell him that enough. Enough to pull you closer to him as you two sway to the song.

He looks down at him, your head now against his shoulder with your eyes closed. He can see how relaxed your face is, the sun sweeping through your window and occasionally hitting your face with its light just enough to decorate your features. If his heart was struck by you once before, this moment served as a reminder of that.

"It's a nice song." He says softly, his hand running down your arm until it finds your hand. He entwines his fingers with yours.

You hum, looking up at him and lifting your head off his shoulder. "You certainly know how to choose them." You tease, stretching your arm as you separate your body from his, your hands connecting the two of you as you hold the other's.

He sees you smile, brightly and softly in a way that tugs his heart. God, you were so pretty. Plucked strings encourage him to pull you closer once more, seeing you spin until his arm is wrapped around you and your back meets his chest with a giggle.

God, he was so lucky to have you.

"I do." He wasn't talking about the song.

The song ends but you two continue to dance. Swaying and spinning in your bedroom without a care in the world. How could a match this heavenly happen against all odds? When neither of you thought you would date someone from a culture so different from your own?

Neither of you thought about that. Not right now when you were dancing so gently and oh so passionately at the same time. No words exchanged, just smiles and hums. Maybe a kiss here and there that either managed to steal. But words? No, just your phone playing songs about love you never thought you would live.

Oh, how wrong were you.

How wrong were you to think that when this moment showed that you were not only loving and being loved, but you were doing so in the way these songs made you feel. It was a dream. It was luck. It was a movie. It was music. It was him. Him.

"Please send me these songs later." He says, breaking the silence.

"You're gonna study these later?" You tease, chuckling at the idea of Nanami listening to songs he doesn't know what they are about.

"Maybe." He chuckles, lifting your hand as he spins you around. "You said they were classics, didn't you? I have to know about them if we're going to keep dancing like this."

You smile at him. After so many people were disinterested and even critical of your culture to the point that you felt like having to keep it private, he wanted it to be included in your relationship. Even celebrate it in a way. Why does it even come as a surprise when he always looked at you in awe whenever you spoke Spanish? Even if he didn't know what you said, he would always have this curiosity towards that part of you that was once criticized.

Nanami knew how to love you, but now it was clear that he knew how to love the culture you were so in love with too.

"You're right. You have quite the content to go over then. So do I. Not only do I have to go over Japanese culture, I also have to study a bit of Danish, don't I?"

He chuckled, pulling you closer to him and letting you two become one with the music once more. The world melting away with just the two of you existing in this very room.

Yeah, there are bumps in the road. Misunderstandings and uncertainties that could sour what you two had. But it never did. Not when he was so patient in sharing and learning. Not when you were so excited to know more and explain what made you you. Culture could be tricky, but for the two of you, it was what made your relationship so enjoyable. You may have had different upbringings but you were still similar enough to work well together.

Though it was something the two of you already knew, it was something that was confirmed to Nanami once he translated the song he just happened to choose by chance earlier today. Our souls have become close enough that I keep your flavor and you keep mine all well. It was funny how a song he just happened to tap on happened to describe why you two worked so well. You had different cultures that entwined together once you became a couple, having pieces of each other's culture embedded into the other.

He thought it was just a wonderful idea that it became one of his favorite songs that you've shown him.

Dating someone from another culture is interesting, scary even. But life was kind to you and let you meet Nanami, someone with whom you could unapologetically share your culture knowing that it would be as cherished as every other part of you. Someone who made it easy to share both cultures until you created your own. A unique culture that was both him and you.

A culture that tasted of both you and him because of how much you loved each other and stayed by your side.

Neither of you would have it another way.

[chaotic-starlight24]

Dallas Winston Backstory Headcanon

So I apparently wrote so much stuff that Tumblr won't let me post my Dallas headcanons altogether! So it will be divided into several parts. Dallas has so much potential as a character and everything so I got into the zone and wrote WAY MORE than I needed to :,) So if I write not as much for other characters that is why! Sorry if anything is ooc, I tried my best!

Warnings: Death, Violence, Angst, Mentions of abuse, Neglect, all the things you expect with Dallas

Pre-Tulsa

I noticed a lot of people headcanon Dally as Russian (WHICH IS NOT A BAD THING!!!) And I feel that’s reasonable. But I also feel that one of his parents is scandinavian. Light hair, blue eyes, and a tall frame are all very common characteristics of Norwegian and Swedish people. So let’s say Norwegian-American mother and Russian father?

We all know his home life was horrible. His mother was a bit nicer to him than his father, but quickly fell to being an alcoholic and drug addict. So while he was 1-5 she was okish, mainly just doing the basic things. Then past that it was left to his older siblings and he had to help with the younger ones. There were a total of 5 kids and he was the middle child. Then when he was around 9, his father came home in a drunken fit of rage and started a fight with his mother. Which eventually ended in him sh**ting her. Dally wasn’t exactly close to her, she was not a good mom in any way, but seeing your own parent killed in front of you takes a large toll on you. So that was when he ran out.

Throughout his childhood he had already started to hang out with a couple gangs of hoods around the city. So after running out he just joined in with them. They were horrible influences to him and several times Dally found himself helping in beating a teenager into the pavement after he forgot to pay in time for their dr*gs. The main gang he hung out with were dealers and also helped with…disposing of other people who caused a little more trouble than liked. The main leader of the gang was a kid nicknamed Snake Eyes. (For the newsies fans, he was a rougher and tougher version of Spot Conlon) Dallas looked up to him and learned a lot. Snake Eyes wanted everyone in the gang to have a nickname so it was harder to be caught. Dallas ended up with the nickname Southern blade since someone mentioned that they heard Dallas was a city down in the deep south. Dallas helped out with a lot in the gang. But he was also still a younger guy. So he was mainly tasked with stealing things, sneaking Snake Eyes into places, and aiding in a fight if worse came to worst.

He was taught that he had to be tough, be brutal if he wanted to survive. So he was. No matter what they were doing he convinced himself he had to do it to survive. Snake Eyes didn’t exactly have a soft spot for him but he looked out for him since he was younger than the other boys. He gave him a stern talking-to after Dally got caught and thrown in jail. But he still bailed him out. The rest of the gang pushed Dally around a lot more and he got a couple scars from these “play fights”. Snake Eyes killed the guy who did the worst though, he had thrown a knife across the room and was aiming for Dallas. Dallas only ended up with a large scar across the bridge of his nose but that guy ended up with a lot worse. Snake Eyes has laid a hand on Dallas whenever he gets super upset, but never enough to leave more than a bruise or a mark. (Not that that is justified in anyway)

Several of the guys catcalled girls a lot and definitely said some very inappropriate things. Which of course led to Dally learning from them. Should they have taught this 10 year old to be one of the smoothest talkers in Brooklyn? Nope. Did they? Oh yeah they did. But of course no girls took him seriously.

Snake Eyes drilled it into Dally’s head what to do when disrespected. Dally would watch him deck a guy for sneering in his direction. So Dally quickly picked up on it and Snake Eyes even taught him to be stronger. 

What made Dallas leave was when a real big fight broke out. Heaters and blades were pulled out on just about everyone. This larger gang leader was trying to take over and Snake Eyes ended up with a shot to the chest. Dallas tried to stop the bleeding because he didn’t like this new leader but Snake Eyes just told him it was for the better. He told him to hop trains and go as far from his past as possible. He also gave him his St. Christopher necklace and snake ring. So Dallas ran out of NYC at 11 ½. Snake Eyes was in no means a good person, but he was a older brother of sorts to Dally. Another person Dally loved, ripped away from him.

Dally grew up that day, he began to believe he shouldn’t care about anything since the world would just take it away from him. But luckily he never had it on his mind that maybe he should leave this world. He followed Snake Eyes' advice and began his journey, planning to try and make it to the deepest part of Texas.

Part two will be his travels pre-tulsa!

[rip-us-xoxo]

The park- Draco Malfoy x Reader (REPOST)

Posted DECEMBER 06, 2020

Reposted APRIL 16, 2023

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Request- hii! could u please write christmas prompt #6 with draco? maybe he’s at the park with scorpius and loses sight of him. while desperately looking for his son, he bumps into the reader who’s been the love of his life since they were little. fluffiest fluff of them all pleaseeeeee❤

Hii! I find Dad!Draco so flippin’ cuuute! Tysm for requesting!

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Warnings- nothing, just fluffff and Dad!Draco

——————————————————————————

It was a cold December day, the leaves were frozen off the trees and the floor was covered in snow. The park was in no condition to be played on, but children still went there to play with their friends in the snow. 

Draco and his son, Scorpius, were disliked by many. People were still wary of Draco because of all of the death eater and Voldemort drama, meaning that they passed that fear and hatred down to their children.

Scorpius had a hard time making friends, and to be honest, he didn’t have any which broke Draco’s heart. So, Draco brought him to the park everyday in hopes that someone would want to be friends with his son.

 Being a single dad was tough, Astoria had left for reasons unknown, she just left the moment Scorpius was born and left Draco with a son to raise on his own.

“Scorpius, look at me,” Draco told his son, who looked adorable bundled up in black and blue winter coats. “I want you to talk to some kids, don’t mention me, just talk to them,” Draco told his son, it was the same thing that he told Scorpius every time. 

Scorpius nodded very big and said, “Okay daddy!” before running off to go play in the snow. Draco smiled and sat down on a bench. 

While people walked by, Draco tried to smile at them but they just glared. He rolled his eyes slightly and leaned back into the bench with a huff. “I shouldn’t have been such a jerk,” he groaned and leaned back while covering his eyes, rubbing them slightly before removing his hands and putting them back in his lap. 

He looked over at all of the kids to see Scorpius trying really hard to make friends, that made Draco smile. He looked around a bit, taking in the scenery of the sunny but cold day. 

He then looked back over at the group of kids, but to his dismay, Scorpius wasn’t making friends anymore. Actually, Scorpius wasn’t there at all. 

Draco stood up and tried to look around to see if he could find Scorpius from a higher angle. “Scorpius?” he called out, there was nothing. Draco started to panic, “Scorpius?!” he shouted again. 

He frantically speed walked around the park, looking under everything, even pushing aside some snow in hopes that he would find his 5 year old son. 

While he was frantically walking around, he bumped into something. “Ah!” both people groaned as they stepped away. 

“Hey! Watch where you’re- Draco?” you stopped suddenly. Draco met your eyes, “Y/l/n?”. 

“Draco!” you exclaimed, “I haven’t seen you in forever!”. 

His heart thumped at your angelic voice. “Y-Yeah, me neither!” Draco mentally scolded himself, “Ya, no shit Draco,” he mumbled making you giggle. He smiled slightly, now his heart was beating out of his chest, it wasn’t only from panicking about Scorpius, it was the fact that he had been in love with you all throughout school, and apparently still was. 

Speaking of Scorpius, “I’m sorry, it’s not a good time. My son is somewhere making snow angels,” he told you, he didn’t want to leave but he needed to find Scorpius, he was his one priority. 

“Your… what?” you blinked, your throat going dry. “My son, his name is Scorpius, have you seen him? I don’t know where he is,” Draco said shakily hurriedly. “Oh,” you croaked out, “um, no I haven’t,” it went silent for a second. 

“Where is his mom?” you asked, hoping that Draco was single. “Oh, she left when he was born. It’s been me and the little guy for 5 years, he’s the best thing to have ever happened to me. Well besides seeing you here today,” he flirted, making your cheeks flush red. 

“You’re still the same, flirty and arrogant,” you laughed, “oh how I missed that,” you sighed. You too, coincidentally, have been in love with him since first year. 

Before Draco could respond, his head snapped in the direction of a child screaming, “Daddy!”. “Scorpius!” he exclaimed, holding out his arms and catching a body who rammed into him, “Oh thank godric, you’re alright. You scared me buddy.”. 

Scorpius mumbled a ‘sorry daddy’ before looking over at you. “Hi Y/n!” he greeted and waved. “Oh, hi little man,” you said and waved back. 

“Have you met my friend, Y/n. I met her while I was looking for you, she insisted that she helped me find you, but I told her I was tough enough to find you,” he said and puffed out his chest and flexed his muscles, making you and Draco laugh. 

“Yes, I have met her, she and I used to go to school together,” Draco told him, Scorpius gasped. “You mean, we have the same friend?! Does that mean she can come over? You said friends can come over!” he exclaimed giddily. 

Draco looked up at you, “Would you like to come over love?”. You blushed even more and said, “Only if you want me too.”. “We would love for you to come over,” Draco smiled.  

“She’s very pretty, don’t you agree daddy?” Scorpius asked and cocked his head up to his dad. Draco looked over at you and looked at all of your features, you were still perfect to him. 

“I think she is very pretty too,” he told him while smiling at you. “Aw, stop it, you’re making me blush,” you giggled and then shivered a bit, it was getting really cold. 

“Is she coming over? I want her to come over!” Scorpius asked impatiently while stomping his feet. “I think she would like that, it is rather freezing out here,” Draco looked at you, “you’re shaking.”. “Y-Yeah, it’s a bit chilly,” you chattered and rubbed your arms, trying to get warm. 

“Come here,” Draco said and took off one of his coats, it looked expensive. “Oh no, it’s quite alright,” you brushed him off and shivered once more. 

“I insist,” he said and wrapped it around your shoulders. You were instantly filled with warmth. 

“Alright,” Draco said and picked up Scorpius with a huff, “let’s go m’lady and m’lord.”. You giggled as Draco pulled you into his side while you started to walk. 

To anyone on the outside, you would have looked like a small family, but only you and Draco knew that it was the start of something beautiful.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

xoxo

[ubtendo]

Top 10 childhood videogames?

Wait, that's such a fun question, but I'm blanking on games I played in my childhood because I played so many😭

This list could have been a lot more obscure, but I tried to keep it more basic

Uhh and if anyone wants the reasoning for any game, I'm talking a bit about them under the cut

1. Tomodachi Life

One of my first actual games that I got to choose for my self and I still love it to this day. I mean if you haven't been struggling with the question "who in this ship could be a woman" because you made your favourite ship into miis with the plan on them marrying , but they are both guys and there is no option for a gay relationship, than have you even lived. I remember I got this game on my 10th birthday and I keept running back inside our house to charge my nintendo because I wouldn't stop playing for one second. Even now I still boot it up on my birthday first thing in the morning to see the mii version of my friends, family and favourite characters sing happy birthday to me.

2. Dragon Quest Monsters Joker

Hands down, if tomodachi life didn't exist, then this would have been my all time favourite game. I'm so surprised that I never see people talk about this game. If you like pokemon, then you will also like this. I watched my mom play it when I was really little, then we lost the game and my brother re-bought it a few years back, but decided he doesn't want to play it anymore pretty early on, so he gave the game to me. I only beat the final boss this year and my main complaint about this game is that lvl. grinding is PAINFULLY SLOW but I'm nothing if not patient so I got through the fight eventually.

3. Pokemon Alpha Sapphire

My first pokemon game and the one I replayed the most. If they never made a new pokemon game you would still find me playing this. I made so many memories in this game, I can't even begin to tell you any because I wouldn't stop. This holds a very special place in my heart.

4. Miitopia

Well when I first heard that there was a sort of successor / spin of of tomodachi life, I was set. I got it as soon as our store had it, and after losing all my games (story for an other day, sort of embarrassing, don't ask) I bought it again and I got my friends to play it as well and I was so happy. I remember that I was sitting in our garden and fighting the final boss only fo find out that that wasn't the final boss, I was so devastated but also so happy that the game wasn't over yet. What can I say, I'm just a simple RPG lover.

5. Animal Crossing New Leaf

In my opinion, a way better game than new horizon. I mean yeah, horizon got a lot of great features but it doesn't hold the candle to new leaf. This game just has such a sommer night vibe to me, but that might be because I keep staying up late to catch beatles all night on the island. Also THE MUSIC DON'T EVEN LET ME GET STARTED

6. New Style Boutique

I'm pretty sure I didn't buy this game myself, and it would feel weird for my parents to have bought it for me because I was a sort of tomboy-ish girl back then, but I played this game so much, and honestly I sometimes so today as well. Ok, maybe I only ever wore the bunny handbag and got the space buns hairstyle but I lived for that. I have the other 2 3ds games and the original ds game as well, but I haven't played much of them.

7. Go Vacation

Ok now we get a bit more obscure. Specially the wii version. I mentioned this before, but I loved the diving minigame and I spent hours underwater just doing that. Mainly I just loved running around the resorts and doing whatever. Me and my brother also sometimes raced down from the peak of the mountain in the snow resort and we placed bets on who would win. Fun game even tho I don't remember any other minigame except diving.

8. Cooking Academy

So my mom gave me her old laptop when I was idk seven? And she still had this game so she gave that to me as well. And I might or might have not burnt every dish that went into the oven. Honestly my cooking skills haven't improved since then, so I guess I'm just very consistent.

9. GTA 2

Ok so I actually never really played that game myself and I only watched my brother play on our uncle's old windows 98 PC. The funny thing is tho is, we were really young, like REALLY YOUNG. I'm pretty sure we never played the story and we just drove with the cars and tried to steal the police cars everytime and hunt down the hot dog car. Real nostalgic to me even tho I wouldn't play it myself even nowadays.

10. Sims 2

Again, my mom gave it to me with her PC. Sims 3 was already long out and I played that as well, but I remember this one much more. Maybe because my version had some weird graphic glitches where all the walls and the whole overworld looked like a red and black checkers board that would make your eyes bleed. Sims in general I remember very fondly because of my mama

[solar-halos]

i watched speak no evil w my brother and now i need to talk about it. not to make this about race but something that jumped out to me was that this movie would only work with the whitest fucking family you’ve ever seen. let’s start at the beginning

1) we did get there late so idk what purpose dunking on danish ppl served so let’s just skip to the part where they let their twelve year old daughter ride a scooter with a man they JUST met. if some white middle age man offered to let let me ride saddleback on his motorcycle my parents (or at least my dad) would be like hell to the mf no and then we wouldn’t be allowed near him or his wife or his son ever again

2) speaking of his son that’s another reason why the movie would be over before it started. that’s prob more of an immigrant thing though (or like a machismo thing) bc i don’t think i’ve ever been allowed to play with boys no matter how old we were

3) okay actually my mom would have been a little fooled by that british accent

4) oh my god if we went over to this family’s house and the hosts were like “you’re sleeping in the same room as our son! :)” my parents (probably both of them) would be like hell to the MF NO. and then we’d drive back home and go no contact

5) the lack of backbone killed meee. if for some reason we weren’t gone by then you know what would have done the trick? some unfamiliar man being our fucking babysitter. my dad would be PISSED. my mom would be like “a brown man? girl…”

6) the husband telling everyone to swim in their underwear? girl…

7) i’m kinda forgetting the other details so im officially done dunking on white ppl. no offense to agnes bc she was distressed but feigning her period while she was bleeding in the front was like ..?

8) OH WAIT. back to dunking on white people bc if my parents (even my mom!) found me in some family’s BED holy shit. they would not careee about that lady’s sob story they’d escalate shit so much that the hosts would just kill them right then and there

9) also that stuffed animal agnes had was sweet and i love the lengths her parents went for her but my dad would be like get the fuck OVER it girl. and then if i tried kicking the backseat well. haha. let’s just say thqt wouldn’t end well

10) okay but also if i showed my mom those pics i dont think she’d believe me no matter how weird these people were LOL. like she’d still try to leave but i dont think she’ll be like “omg you’re right!”

11) the cheating beat was what rlly did it for me. like if that were my family the movie would be over before it even started. like i was confused why the wife kept saying her man was angry bc he never even yelled at her and the closest he ever came to lashing out at agnes was trying to get her to stop kicking his seat

12) he rlly was so in love with patrick though i thought there’d be at least one kiss between them

13) why did ppl (read: men) in the theatre start BELLY LAUGHING when patrick kept kissing the wife? gross

14) dude. if we didn’t manage to escape once (even tho we def would have… no way would either my parents drive back for a stuffed toy) my parents defintely would have kept driving even if patrick did push their son (who wasn’t rlly his son… but im gonna keep calling him that bc i don’t remember his name) into the lake. like for me my mindset for scenarios like that is “oh well u don’t rlly know how you’d react until it happens to u” but i know EXACTLY how my mom would have reacted. she would have kept driving

15) i do love the wife though. i feel like they were trying to make her annoying but we all need people like her. the food throwing scene was so upsetting (im a sensitive baby) and the husband not having a backbone drove me crazy. actually the husband was pretty much useless even before he broke his leg

16) i hate that uppity “im not gonna stoop down to their level” mentality. patrick literally said he was gonna take ur 12 yr old child as a child bride and u didn’t end it??

[ilkkawhat]

tagged by @room-665 and @judyalvqrez, thank you both!💜💜💜💜

last song: Children of the Elder God by Old Gods of Asgard--in full. After that I was skipping through songs as I pulled into my neighborhood and driveway lol. honestly still seems like AW soundtrack music is like, the one thing I never skip since I got into it last November.

favourite color: Purple!

currently reading: House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski, have been for a while lol I gotta get back on it. My mom got a bit of a kick out of seeing me moving the book around and flipping to the back and such 😂

currently watching: Series wise, nothing really since I finished Sorjonen...I've been just kinda watching a lot of youtube videos or movies. Been thinking about getting back into Only Murders in the Building (I watched the first two seasons I think? Maybe the 3rd? See I just gotta start over lol) and then watching Poromafia for my next Ilkka series (beyond just skimming), and I'm probably gonna start Interview With a Vampire sooner or later cause it's all over my dash EDIT: FUCK i forgot I'm watching Star Trek Enterprise! very slowly, I watch it while I chill downstairs with my dog when my parents go out shopping (he's got bad separation anxiety and is not allowed to go up the stairs anymore for his safety so I just go to him)

last movie: Rewatched Hell House 2 in full, started watching Butterfly Kisses last night but couldn't stay up to finish it. Trying to get in the mood for spooky season and last year I got really into the found footage sub-genre.

sweet, spicy or savory: Savory...not good with spicy (lol says a woman who works with chipotle peppers. We mill dehydrated pods and it was so strong the other day I legit threw up on my way out) but on a mild level I'm okay with it. Do like sweet stuff but I do have limits with it.

relationship status: Single, probably always gonna be that way and that's fine lol. But if I happen to meet someone maybe I won't be as much of a coward as I have been with other potential relationships I could have had...it also sucks cause I can't say I'm surrounded with the most pleasant relationships (my parents especially)

current obsession: Primarily Alan Wake, secondary Ilkka Villi and really just the Remedy Verse as a whole--I think work's just beating me down too much to enjoy really anything right now but god do I just crave for the atmosphere and aesthetic of Alan Wake 2 right now

tea or coffee: Coffee though I'm not against tea at all and will admit I haven't drank as much coffee as I used to, I stopped during one summer cause it was too hot and I think I may have lost my idk taste? tolerance? for black coffee but I do get iced french vanilla coffee from mcdonalds like once a week lol. (really I just drink a lot of celsius for my daily caffiene fix)

the last thing i googled: Rune Factory 5 cause I saw it's on sale on the Nintendo e-shop and I'm debating getting it even though I have tons of other games I should be playing and let's be real, I'm just gonna continue playing Alan Wake 2 for the tenth time tomorrow instead of even playing the recently bought Star Wars Outlaws 😂😂 but RF5 is like, 20 bucks and that's the cheapest I've ever seen it so it can't hurt just to get it in the library and maybe start it later

breaking the tag chain but if anybody wants to do this, go for it and say I tagged you

[seriouslycromulent]

My rewatch of The John Larroquette Show (so far)

In my effort to keep my Larroquette obsession thriving, I've recently started a rewatch of The John Larroquette Show. Like Night Court (which I rewatched in 2022), I remember watching this show when it originally aired.

But unlike Night Court, my memory of most of the episodes is a bit fuzzy. I remember the main characters and their personalities just fine, but not so much what happens in terms of the storyline.

Regardless, I'm enjoying the rewatch, and I'm pleasantly surprised by how much the show holds up over time, how evergreen the topics are, and how strong the jokes are. Seriously. They are constantly telling jokes that I swear are as old as vaudeville, but they kill in terms of laughs from the audience and from me as well.

Example: In s2e8 "The Book of Rachel," Mayim Bialik guest stars as a young hippie-ish woman named Rachel who shows up in hopes of finding out if John Hemingway (JL's character) is her real dad. She's narrowed down the search to 3 men who knew her mom, who was living wild and free back in the '70s, around that time.

When John asks how her mother's doing, Rachel says, "She's doing pretty good. She's been clean for about 5 years now." John, a recovering alcoholic who's been sober for 1 year, says, "That's great! So no more drugs and booze, huh?" And Rachel says, "Oh no, there's still plenty of drugs and booze. She's just been bathing regularly for 5 years."

I'm not telling it very well in writing, but I swear to you, that joke is funny as hell, and Mayim and JL's delivery is perfection. Plus, it got a huge laugh from the audience, which speaks to its timeless nature.

Anyway, I just wanted to share a thought or two on the show so far. (I'm on episode 12 of Season 2, just in case anyone wants to know the context.)

Here are some random thoughts I've had so far:

Like Night Court, the show does a solid job of mixing comedy and drama. The first season is a bit more drama heavy because they dealt more with the recovery storyline, but I think it still worked and the whole concept is still pretty daring (i.e., revolving around the unglamorous lives of people who work in and around a bus station at night) even compared to today's sitcoms, which still tend to play it safe.

JL's hair in the first season is absurdly long. Or at least it gets to be absurdly long about halfway through the season. And it's not a good look. Not because he looks bad with long hair, but because it looks like it takes a lot of upkeep. And a man who is working 3rd shift at a bus station and lives in a halfway house/SRO building doesn't seem like he'd have a strict hair care regimen to make it appear perfectly tamed at all time. Seriously, at one point I had to ask out loud, "I wonder if they curl the ends with a curling iron or do they use rollers?"

This may be the first TV show I ever saw Chi McBride in. Despite seeing him on plenty of TV shows and films over the years, I never knew he had such a lovely singing voice. I'm glad they gave him a chance to share his singing talent. His version of "Danny Boy" in season 1 was very good.

The 2 corrupt police officers who blatantly flaunt their bias and awfulness are both funny and a great commentary on what was happening in America at the time (i.e., the Rodney King police beating, and the aftermath of the verdict was still very fresh in everyone's minds then). Sadly, it is an evergreen topic for the U.S., but I think it says a lot about the writers for TJLS that they attacked the subject so openly and didn't shy away of being critical of police or lampooning them. I don't think a modern American sitcom would approach the subject so brazenly and unapologetically today. JL has said in a number of interviews that the show was kind of ahead of its time. And I'm inclined to agree with him, at least in some areas.

It's so cool going back to watch old TV shows and catching actors who have now become bigger names in the business. I just watched an episode with Jane Lynch working as a mental health care professional. Of course, this was way before she found success on Glee and The 40-Year-Old Virgin.

Does JL manage to work in a reference to Samuel Beckett into everything he works on starting with this series? It's starting to function as his own career Easter egg at this point. I'm not complaining. Just wondering.

I know Don Reo created the show, but I suspect JL had a small amount of his life's adventures and details shape the John Hemingway character (like the Beckett references, his running commentary on anything that happened in the 1960s, his openness about being friends with anyone from any background, etc.). But the only way to truly know this is for JL to 1) tell us in Q&As or interviews, or 2) write an autobiography already, dammit!

In s2e1 "Changes," JL sits down in a chair by swinging his leg over the back of it, and I immediately thought of the Riker Maneuver. I know JL did it before Jonathan Frakes on TNG, but it will always be the Riker Maneuver to me.

Another way the show was ahead of its time was in its portrayal of sex workers and trans people. Most of the time, it's played for comedy on the show (I mean, it is a sitcom after all), but there's a very real attempt to share stories of Carly, Teddi and Pat that are humanizing. Teddi and Pat are trans sex workers, but they are accepted by most (not the male cop) and aren't just the butt of jokes. They even get included in simple things like group poker games and asked to watch the lunch counter when Dexter runs off to do something or other. That might seem like not a big deal, but at that time (the mid-90s), most inclusion of hookers and trans folks on TV usually involved heavy drama like trying to save them from their lives or begrudgingly acknowledging that they were a part of society with disdain and ridicule. And the overall acceptance of Carly as a friend and possible love interest without trying to save her or judge her was also a bit ahead of its time. And when there were moments of judgment, they were faced head on and challenged.

[quack-n-cheese]

THIS SCARED THE EVER LOVING SHIT OUT OF ME! I remember this so damn clearly out of the absolute fear and horror I felt the night I saw this. I was about 4 to 5 years old, I was sitting in the living room with my mom. We loved watching Brain Games together. I remember I was on the floor, with my legs crisscross apple hands on my lap, tapping my knees excitedly. I was also rocking back and forth in anticipation. I looked up at my mom, who’s sitting on the couch behind me with a twinkle in my eyes pointing at the screen. Brain Games was THE shit when I was younger. I cannot express how much this show influenced me as a child and how it affected me as a person. This was my first ever exposure to psychology. I’m currently working to get a minor in psychology. Like now that a think about it…it’s pretty crazy that this show had effected my life despite not having seeing it in like 7 years. But anyway, back to that godforsaken zombie. We were watching Brain Games on cable at the time, so we had no control over the episodes. Most of the time this show was pretty chill, it had social expectations with hidden cameras and stuff. This episode started off like all the rest, the intro sequence played with the short theme song, and the narrator guy started narrating. Footage of a little car turning the corner in a green area played on screen. I’ll never forget the narration of the guy: “focus on the car on your screen”. So I focused on the screen with all my might, the words of Brain Games were sacred to me. Then out of nowhere, this fucking zombie jumped out of the corner of the screen with the fucking loudest sound playing along with it. We had our surround sound speakers on because we watched in action movie shortly before. THIS THING made me scream so loud it would’ve powered that city from monsters Inc. I remember the sensation of the fear and shock so vividly. I stood up and jumped over to my mom, and started hugging her while sobbing. My heart skipped a beat from the loud sound, and the visuals. My lungs hurt from screaming so loud and and hyperventilating from the fear. My chest ache and felt twisted from the anxiety. And to add insult to injury, the narrator mockingly said “Oh~? Where you scared~” Fuck you man, that fucking sucked! My poor mother will try to console me, looked up at the TV with the face of betrayal. She trusted this program to entertain and educate her daughter, and now had betrayed her. I cried for the next 3 minutes while the episode played in the background. Other than that everything else was tame, but that zombie in the beginning, shook me to my core.

In conclusion, please put a jump scare warning so I could switch my speaker settings.

And fuck that zombie!

[mslizzybeth]

I lived in a tiny corner house for over 20 years. I lived with my mom,  dad, and 2 younger sisters. We had a cat and a dog. When they passed, we had another cat and another dog.

The two houses beside ours were rented multi-family style homes. We witnessed a parade of neighbors coming and going.We heard the arguments through open windows and doors. We watched many celebrations unfold–Birthdays, anniversaries, and cultural holidays.We met all the pets that lived on our block. As time passed, we watched the street get damaged. There were potholes and cracks everywhere.The street signs fell down from wear and tear. The sidewalks started to separate. Slowly the town came in to repave the street and replace the signs.

We spent all of our free time outside making the most of each season. In the spring, our laughter and shouts filled the air as we ran around, playing games like Cops and Robbers and chanting hand games – “Shame, Shame, Shame, I don’t wanna go to Mexico no more, more, more” To beat the heat in the summertime, We always hooked up the Slip 'N Slide. In the Fall, we were the only house on our street to decorate for Halloween. Complete with caution tape, fake blood and tombstones. We had the spookiest house on the block.. And by the time winter came around, we had snowball fights, built igloos, and even a few snowwomen to celebrate the season.

WHile we played, our parents started doing some DIY home renovations. We ripped up the old blue carpet because it was bad for my mom’s allergies. We changed the ugly tiles in the kitchen to something a little more modern. The walls got a fresh coat of paint making the space look clean and new. The bathroom, which had been falling apart with shower tiles dropping one by one, was updated with drywall and a new sink and toilet.

The doors in our bedrooms kept jamming so we removed the doorknobs. The front door started to give us trouble as well and we kept getting locked out. So we purchased a brand new beautiful door.  Over the years, we went through 10 phones, 5 mattresses, 4 couch sets,   3 microwaves,  2 refrigerators, all within 1 home.

Our house witnessed 3 proms, 3 high school graduations, and 3 first days of college. Our house was the setting for a whole bunch of sleepovers, fights, tears, and laughs. The house remained a witness to our past. Now, when we drive past that tiny corner house, we can't help but wonder about the new stories and experiences it continues to hold.