#I’m running on 0 sleep already but I had to draw him

[mintitacos]

80s, 80s, 80s CATS!

A very fluffy and very huggable looking Wakko. Everyone say THANK YOU ANIMANIACS SEASON 2!

[fraiserabbit]

part 1 of the little Edward christmas tale i promised y’all :0

part 2! | part 3!

hc things >>

edward always carries a torch with him because once he tripped over some cracks in the pavement on his way home so yeah

den and dart both say “what he means is...” -- Den, whenever Dart runs off at the mouth and probably about to say something he regrets/would hurt someone and Dart, when Den struggles to pinpoint and articulate his thoughts exactly because he overthinks what he’s going to say :]

The holidays were already close, and Edward had just been given permission to hold a Christmas party for everyone on Ulfstead Castle grounds. “It’ll have to wait ‘til after midnight; there’s still work to be done on Christmas!” Sir Topham Hatt had said. There was so much to do! He quickly left for the night, waving to everyone on his way out to the main road. Edward tightly wrapped a large woollen scarf around his neck, tucking it into his brown overcoat. Turning on his torch and pointing it at the ground before him as he walked, Edward shivered. Sometimes he regretted choosing to walk to and from work. Percy did too, but at least the younger man also had a car to drive during Winter.

As he silently trudged through the harsh icy winds he began thinking about the party. He began thinking about everyone’s smiling faces over good drinks and good company, gathered around long tables. Their eyes lighting up from the sight of the Christmas tree, comfortably warmed up by steaming piles of food. The thought certainly helped Edward forget about the wind trying to cut through his scarf to get to his skin as he glanced over at the store lights that lined the street, still open and warmly welcoming anyone in its range. All manner of toys and trinkets were neatly displayed in the windows, staring back at him.

Oh yes, I’ll need gifts! But Edward began worrying about how he’d get everyone a gift they’d like. He couldn’t just give everyone another arts and crafts project like last year! Maybe I could draw portraits of everyone? He remembered his last attempt at a sketch of Toby. He remembered the hot, red embarrassment that flooded his cheeks when Toby looked over Edward’s shoulder at his pathetic attempt at a face. Toby insisted it was fine and he’d frame it up in the living room wall, but Edward had practically begged the man to hang it up in the wine cellar instead.

What can I do? Another origami figure? A clay model? Edward’s head hung as he slowly swept his torch over the pavement, carefully watching for cracks. I really can’t do anything else, can I?

Eventually he reached his flat. It was eerily quiet, but Edward found some comfort in it as he walked upstairs. He softly closed and locked the door, quietly gliding past shelves upon shelves of his arts and crafts projects into his bedroom. “All I’m good for are figurines and knitting…” he muttered to himself as he changed into a set of plain purple pyjamas.

Edward didn’t bother with his night routine. Instead he opted to lie down and stare at the ceiling. “No one wants a decorative pillow! Not everyone appreciates a wooden carving of a bird…come on, Edward, think!” His hands shot up and grabbed his face in frustration. He didn’t want to leave anyone out of his gift list, but he also didn’t want to just give nothing. Eventually he gave up, throwing the blanket over himself and shutting his eyes.

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

If he wanted to invite everyone he’d have to get started on invitations, and Edward really meant everyone. Of course, there was no guarantee that they’d show up. Other friends and families did exist, after all. Edward sat down at his wood carving desk with a large mug of tea, stacks of papers and envelopes, and a few pens. It was going to be a long night.

As long as Edward kept to a similar invitation structure, he’ll be able to go to sleep at a reasonable time. Just a small greeting, time and date, and venue…Edward decidedly added a quick note at the bottom: ‘Bring a gift for one other person!’ He paused. ‘If you want.’ It certainly lifted a weight off his shoulders; now he just needed to figure out who he wanted to give a gift to.

Occasionally, as he wrote, his pen would get caught in the deep scratches and grooves upon the wooden desk. Quite a few invitations featured small holes in the paper or sudden streaks of black ink across the words, but Edward figured it made them all unique in a way.

Finally, he reached the last sheet of paper. His tea was running dangerously low as he took another sip, thinking. Who am I missing? He legitimately couldn’t recall. Well, he thought he remembered everyone. Apparently not this person. Edward repeatedly tapped his temple with the end of his pen, searching his memory. He slowly shuffled through each sealed envelope, reading the names aloud. “Philip, Den, Mavis…” Finally, his eyes widened in realisation. “Diesel!” His face fell. “Diesel.”

He won’t come. Edward shook his head, picking up his pen. He won’t care to. The pen hovered over the page. He doesn’t care about anyone. Edward gripped the pen tighter, struggling to compose an opening line. He could probably write anything; Diesel wouldn’t read it. The man rolled his eyes. He’ll just throw it away anyway, because a steamie gave it to him. Edward began writing.

It is with my pleasure to invite you…It was immediately crossed out.

Please join us this Christmas night…He shook his head. Another line on the page.

Dear Diesel, I am writing to ask…Edward’s brow furrowed as he scribbled it out.

For the rest of the night Edward tried all sorts of openings to his invitation, but to no avail. The page was an erratic mess of black lines pressed deep into the paper, a few tears here and there. Now Edward sat, head in his hands, staring down at what little space he had left to write on. There was only room to write down the time and date, venue, and a brief message if he wrote it really small.

He couldn’t stay up any later, he had work tomorrow! Why was he struggling so much? Was he doubting that Diesel would come to the party that much?

I just need to have a little more faith in him, that’s all! Just a little more faith.

Yet his pen was hesitant as he finally wrote.

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

The winter wind bit at Edward’s nose as he patiently waited outside the Dieselworks’ gates, feeling the envelope in his coat pocket. Surely Diesel’s going to be here soon. He hadn’t seen the man the whole day while handing out envelopes to everyone, nor heard his engine’s horn once. Edward felt the beginnings of rain upon his head, so he hurriedly moved into the Dieselworks’ main building through the only open door. The lights were still on – Den and Dart were busy inspecting the engine of…Diesel’s train?

“Erm…excuse me.” Edward quietly spoke up, trying not to startle them. Den jumped anyway, though.

“Oh, Edward! What might you be doing here?” Dart placed his hands on his hips, grinning.

“Was Diesel just here?”

Dart thought for a bit, then replied, “He just left! Hang on, I thought you two hated each-”

“What he means is I don’t think Diesel particularly enjoys talking to steam engine drivers.” Den shot a look at his assistant almost as cold as the wind blowing through the open doors.

Edward ignored Dart’s remark, taking out the envelope in his pocket. “Well when you see him, could you pass this on?”

“Of course!” Dart took it, gently placing it on a nearby stool.

Den tilted his head, crossing his arms. “Should we say it’s from you though?”

Edward paused, rain on the metal roof filling the silence. He darted his eyes over to Diesel’s train, seemingly staring back at him. “Yes. Please tell him.”

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (June 13/2021) -        Wall Nut Sales

Fundy and Purpled work in Las Nevadas and notice that the roads of the city are misaligned. Foolish gets into a skirmish with Bad over stolen glass and ends up becoming a walnut salesman to get it back.

A brief summary of the week’s total events can be found at the end of the post.

---

VOD LINKS:

Purpled

Fundy

Ranboo

Foolish

---

- Purpled sets up in Las Nevadas to build a new UFO

- He speaks with Fundy, who shows him the new flag. Fundy also shows Purpled his child, Yogurt. Las Nevadas is lacking in food production

- Fundy walks him through the toll road to the outpost. They take from the farm to grow their own food. Fundy doesn’t approve of them keeping a fox 

- Fundy asks if Purpled has met the guy who calls himself “Meat.” Purpled has

- They go up to the Needle and Purpled challenges Fundy to an MLG contest

- Afterwards, Purpled builds a small shack

- They notice that the entire road system is one block misaligned from the casino center

- Purpled continues to go gather resources

- Fundy emerges from his hole in the ground and feeds Yogurt some berries

- Purpled makes a cow hole

- Fundy starts realigning the fountain

- Foolish logs on and Fundy asks him why he’s so handsome. (Foolish drinks chocolate milk)

- Foolish asks if Fundy is griefing Las Nevadas. He draws his weapon and starts drinking a strength potion. Fundy quickly says that he’s just revamping it

- Fundy returns to work on the fountain but sees Foolish put on Dream’s head as he walks away

Fundy: “Oh my god! I guess that’s why I thought he was handsome. That explains it.”

...

Foolish: I’ll be back in las nevadas later cya around!

Fundy: BYE! :3~~~~~~~ **** ^_^ :0 :D :WW::W:W:W

- Fundy keeps working

- He changes his shovel name from “I love HBomb more than 5up” to “Dap me up!”

- He finishes revamping the fountain and works on realigning the road

- Ranboo steals a few blocks of quartz. Fundy pauses the road work and goes over to the outpost

- Fundy plants a berry from outside the lava gate as a magic trick. Ranboo comes through and throws him some cookies

- Fundy finishes realigning the road and goes to the outpost. He sees Foolish lying on the ground beneath a trap door and leaves without another word

- While Ranboo does more outpost work, he occasionally checks on Foolish throughout. Foolish continues to lie on the ground beneath the trap door

- Later, Foolish works on the pyramid at his summer home some more

- He gets passive aggressive with the citizens of L’Sandburg (llamas) and Bad logs on to tell him to stop harassing his citizens. Foolish claims he was just trying to motivate them

- Bad tells his citizens (llamas) to prepare for war. To Foolish, Bad says to enjoy his buildings while he still can

Bad: CITIZENS OF L’SANDBURG! WE WILL DESTROY THE TOTEM MENACE

Bad: IT IS OBVIOUS THAT FLORIDA HAS HAD A NEGATIVE INFLUENCE ON HIM

Bad: HE MUST BE VANQUISHED

Foolish: It would bring me great pleasure to finally hack down your llama citizens

Bad: >:0000000000000

Bad: SO YOU HAVE CHOSEN DEATH

Foolish: no <3

- Bad runs over to meet Foolish face-to-face. He has one canonical bar of ping and slaps Foolish (the traditional greeting of L’Sandburg)

- Foolish notes how laggy Bad is, floating everywhere

Bad: I am currently not fully in this space o_0

- Foolish asks if he is drunk. Bad says that he is magic as he continues to hop around, lagging heavily. Bad steals stacks of glass and Foolish chases after Bad with an axe, attacking him

Foolish: “L’Sandburg was a mistake from the very start. I should’ve never let it -- from the very first moment they put a block of sandstone, I should’ve wiped it off the face of the Earth.”

- Foolish has trouble keeping up with Bad’s laggy movements. Bad starts dropping a trail of the glass on the ground behind him. When Bad finally stops, he offers Foolish a traditional L’Sandburg gift: blue glass

- Bad gets behind a random door on the road and hides. Foolish tries to get him to open it. Bad isn’t interested in cookies, so Foolish tries to sell him insurance. Bad is interested in neither insurance nor vacuums

- Then Foolish claims that he is a wall nut* seller. This sparks Bad’s interest

*the term ”walnut” was taken by another company

- Bad requests chocolate wall nuts. They cost five dollars for five nuts, and Bad throws Foolish one stack of glass for them

- Foolish knocks on the door again. This time, Bad throws him an Efficiency book and requests more wall nuts. Then several emeralds, again requesting another wall nut, then Ender Pearls

- Foolish offers Bad their premium wall nut deal to become a Platinum member. Bad continues to throw Foolish various items, each time requesting a wall nut. In return for the wall nuts, Foolish gets his stacks of glass back

- Foolish is out of wall nuts. Bad gets behind a door with a few spruce blocks as walls surrounding a 1x1 block area

Bad: this is mine

- Foolish asks him what he means. Bad says this block is his. Foolish strongly rejects this, and Bad asks for more wall nuts

- Bad returns to the chest and shoots Foolish. He asks for the arrow back, as it was a family heirloom. He leaves the 1-block house, but takes the door

- Just as Foolish is getting to return to building, Bad calls him for help. He’s trapped in a hole with a cow and turtle. Bad notices that Foolish sparkles (it’s a skin routine, apparently). Bad offers a fish in return for saving him

- Foolish tells Bad to kill the cow first. Bad refuses to kill Jeremiah (the cow), so Foolish starts waterboarding Bad (”accidentally, so it’s okay!”) to calm him down and unintentionally milks Jeremiah

- Bad starts drowning

- Foolish sleeps with both eyes open because he’s built different

- As Bad continues to drown, Foolish tells him that it’s evolution. He is on the way to getting gills, and eventually he will be a fish that Foolish can put in a bucket. Bad is delighted at the idea and tells Foolish that George was a pig yesterday

- The turtle is named Franklin now

Foolish: “Yeah, I’m definitely thinking we should kill one of these, if not both of them, before there’s too much, like, connection, and I’m afraid we’re already a little bit past the point -- it’s just gonna help you move on from the pit, you know?”

- Bad continues drowning as they chat. Finally, Foolish gets rid of the water. He is Bad’s hero, and Bad was the damsel in distress

- He tells Bad to give him the milk bucket, and when Bad refuses, Foolish puts the water back in the pit

Foolish: “Drown, you bastard.”

- Franklin (the turtle) and Jeremiah (the cow) both escape the pit. With only Bad remaining there, they continue to bicker about the bucket for a long while

- Bad finally gets out of the pit with scaffolding

- Foolish murders Benjamin and ends stream

END OF WEEK RECAP:

6/7 - Nothing much happens.

6/8 - Puffy writes a countersuit in the Lore Suit against Ponk

6/9 - Ponk shows Sam the valley, Fundy and Purpled officially join Las Nevadas, Ranboo receives an update from the Council

6/10 - Nothing much happens.

6/11 - Fundy and Tubbo spy on each other at the outpost

6/12 - George gets turned into a pig

6/13 - Fundy and Purpled work in Las Nevadas, Foolish bargains wall nuts with Bad

---

Upcoming Events:

- The court battle

- The final Egg lore stream

- Tales From the SMP: “Space Race”

- Ponk’s lore stream

- Dream’s lore video

[simothys]

@quaxorascal so i did immediately go to sleep after saying that (and then had the worst sleep i’ve probably ever had)

BUT. i have the post now. i got two scenes for Roxy and three scenes for Vincent that i rotate constantly. this is really long. you have been warned.

Roxanne

1) The Bridge

this was in the first arc whatsoever. and i feel like this is where I got a really good feel for who Roxanne Andromeda is. (for the more familiar with Eberron, our DM ran the module in the book for our first arc)

we had just been in a sky coach accident with a changeling impersonating Vilroy, Til’s childhood best friend. Dante dropped to 0, though Roxanne didn’t know this. And Roxanne dropped to the same bridge as the changeling, with the rest of the party on higher bridges. the changeling dipped into the crowd, and shifted. but Roxanne is all too familiar with that trick, and immediately picked them out of the crowd. she grabbed them and put a blade to their throat, holding them over the edge of the bridge.

they dropped their disguise, going to pure blankness. and my DM dropped the line of “they look exactly like you,” which fucked me up. interrogating them, she found that there was a trap lying in wait for them. after this, she drew her blade across their throat.

my DM begins to narrate, saying, “You pull the blade across their throat, and drop them into the city below.” and here, i stop him. because, no. that’s not what she would do.

instead of dropping this changeling, who could have been a family member of hers, into the city below. she pulled them back over the edge and rested them gently on the ground. and left, even as they bled, even as they said something intended for her.

(later we find out that that changeling has been marked as a danger to all changelings by the rest of the Tyrants/Web, and they let Roxanne and Til escape from Tarkanan as a favor for not killing them, and that’s when Roxanne realizes that the other changeling is marked for death.)

old art but this is something i never finished for that original scene

2) Mindfire

this requires a lot of setup to tell accurately. but basically Roxanne and Til split off to investigate a suspicious Red Cloak base. and fucked up bad. if u want the full story, feel free to ask for my notes from that sesh.

so they’re in an office, pretending to be interested recruits. the dude setting up the paperwork leaves to see a knock at the door, Roxanne gets a nat 20 int check to memorize the paperwork on his desk before he comes back (which we get some juicy goss from that).

when he comes back, his demeanor has changed. he knows who we are, and is pretending nothing is wrong. til wants to stay and investigate more, all of roxanne’s mental alarm bells are going off, and she tries to get out. but til is stubbornly firm in his ways, and roxy can’t leave him. when they both agree to stay a bit longer, the dude calls for Fairy to enter, and the dude leaves.

Fairy (full name Trafarius Dracmarius, bc our DM comes up with silly names when put on the spot) already nearly killed Orpheus. and knows far too much about the party for comfort. Til is pissed, and locks the door behind him, locking Roxanne, Til, and Fairy in a room. there’s some tense “negotiations”, aka Fairy runs fucking circles around Til in the conversation, and Roxanne is quiet. Til eventually draws his gun, and we roll initiative.

on Roxanne’s turn, she casts Dissonant Whispers. and this is when my DM goes, quietly, “Oh, I forgot you had that spell.” and im immediately afraid, because he asks me for a Wis Save as well. i’m confused, bc isn’t Fairy supposed to be the one rolling? but, no. I need to make one as well.

immediate nat 1.

(oh, the epic highs and lows of Roxanne Andromeda)

immediately she is knocked down to 1HP (from full health at 3rd level), and her mind is set alight. she knows exactly what this is. she was warned about it by Locrian in her Bard training.

spies in The Last War invented new kinds of mental protections, namely a homebrew spell known as Mindfire. it was forced upon all intelligence agents. if the target of a mind entering or psychic damage dealing spell has ever had Mindfire cast upon them, then both their and the caster’s minds are set on fire, as the spell attempts to burn out any information.

it’s bad. until next downtime, when Roxanne is able to get it healed, she has disadvantage on all Int and Wis checks, and must beat a DC 10 persuasion check when trying to cast any spell.

a little skip ahead, and Roxanne and Til are attempting to flee the building, with essentially the entire Cloakers force on their heels. Til is on the bottom floor, and Roxanne has been grappled on the second floor of the warehouse as they attempt to take her rapier from her. she breaks free to run to the railing, and Til spreads his arms to her, and asks her to jump, saying he will catch her.

my DM hits me with “You look down into his eyes, and you realize you’ve never trusted anyone like this. And you’re over the edge.”

(art from that!)

Vincent

1) “Vincent, you know three things.”

the monologue my DM did when Vincent was working out early in the morning. kills the me.

“Vincent, you know three things. One, you’re hungry. Two, it’s kind of cold. Maybe you should have brought a cloak. Three, it is too damn early to think about the capacity of magic in your life at 6:30 in the morning.”

magic is illegal in this setting so it’s a lot to think about.

2) “Wait, I have disarming attack now.”

Vincent and Zaz were sparring in the forest at night. He had just learned that Zaz was, in fact, a college of swords bard. not a fighter. And they sparred, no holds barred for the first time.

through Con checks, Vincent tired easily, but so did Zaz, and my DM asked how I thought Vincent shows that he’s done for the evening. and, well.

Vincent pulled Zaz in close with a disarming attack, pulling him in by the hand holding his rapier, and then pulled them both to the ground. before they hit the ground, Zaz blurted out a confession. a simple “I think I love you.”

(i technically have art for this one but it’s an old design of Zaz so maybe not)

3) Elathra

The first and (as of yet) only time Vincent killed an actual person, it wasn’t pretty. He grew up in Pangranos, so taking an animal’s life for food is no stranger to him. but a person? that was new.

we were fighting an artificer yuanti woman for our lives. she was dead set on killing all of us.

“Vincent, you do the one thing you were taught not to do. You hesitate.” when he killed her and she managed to succeed her death saves. (my DM rolled them all at once after Vincent got the killing blow for the narrative sexiness)

and

“Is [a murderer] all that you are?” “It’s all I can do, so it has to be.”

and

“You know how to kill snakes now.” when Vincent killed one of the snakes who was trying to kill Lukas, shortly after nearly failing to kill Elathra.

fucking kill me. i die every time.

Honorable Mention for Vincent:

Zaz crosses the dagger over his heart and holds out a pinky saying, “I promise I won’t melt down this dagger for the very pretty emerald in it.”

I cross my pinky over his and say, “I promise I’ll come back.”

this is only an honorable mention bc i forgot about it until I was looking for art but this one honestly should replace Vincent’s first one

[keorami]

So you know when you wanna write a funny situation but you realise that you have to come up with said funny situation? Yeah... I forgot that my sense of humor is atrocious, but at least I tried...? I couldn't focus on one long story so I decided to write several short ones instead! Hope you enjoy!

"I have the feeling you're not enjoying this sleepover very much."

Dream did not, in fact, enjoy this 'sleepover', because not only did it remind him that his only way out of this hell was stuck in here with him, but said way out had been nothing but insufferable since he got here.

"Is this about the bell-"

"You could have gotten us out of here."

Oh yeah, said way out also wasted their one chance at escaping on a fucking bell. Dream hadn't felt such anger in... he doesn't remember actually. He didn't get to feel angry often in here.

"Listen, it was a very important matter-"

He stopped listening at that point. It was the same tirade every time about clout and viewership and whatever that he honestly could care less about. Staring at and counting the cracks in the obsidian seems like a very interesting activity.

"Hey, are you listening?"

1... 2... 3...

"Dude."

4... 5... 6...

"How long are you gonna ignore me?"

7... 8- wait, didn't he count that one already?

"Look at me at least."

No, he doesn't think he will. Because then the bell will be within view, and Dream knows that if he wasn't so pathetically weak, either the bell or Techno would have been thrown into the lava by now. But he is, so he'll throw the next best thing: his body. And fuck whatever the pig might have to say about it.

"Dreeeeeam-"

"WHAT."

He whipped his head so fast his neck hurt a little. He was fully prepared to... well now he doesn't remember, because of all faces he expected Techno to make...

The fuckboy face wasn't one of them.

"Nooo don't be angry, you're so sexy haha."

Oh God, he just died and went to limbo didn't he?

He wasn't sure when exactly he collapsed on the floor, gasping for air in a mix of wheezes and coughing, but Techno was now hovering over him in panic.

"Dream please don't die, I don't want the last thing you ever saw to have been that face-"

Oh, if there was one thing he would make sure not to forget, it would have been that face.

~~~~~

"Man, I'm starving. When do we get food in here again?"

"Um, I don't know really. I guess whenever Sam is in the mood?"

"What."

"Yeah."

Sam hasn't dropped food a single time since he was locked in here. Well, add 'food' to the basic human rights Dream isn't getting. They're really treating this like a bucket list aren't they?

"It's... You'll get used to it."

Dream gives him some potatoes from his inventory, to Techno's absolute delight. At least Sam has great taste, he'll give him that. But...

"...They're raw."

"Well, obviously."

Listen. He loves potatoes. He'd say he loves them to death, if he could die. No matter how you cook them, they turn out delicious. But raw? He'd only eat them raw if it was a life-or-death situation AND he somehow had no source of heat at his disposal, and the likelihood of that situation happening is practically zero. So yeah, he doesn't like to eat them raw.

"And that's all you get?"

"If you can't eat it-"

Ah, those famous words. Now, he's fairly certain that Dream didn't mean it as a challenge, but at this point Techno is just too competitive to see it any other way. Look, you don't get to his level by being passive, okay? So it's perfectly reasonable.

What wasn't reasonable was the taste of this potato because what in the Blood God's name is this.

"What the hell is this."

"...A potato?"

"No, this is a fucking travesty."

And what a sight it was, the Technoblade swearing and ranting about potatoes, of all things. Dream could only last until "mossy cobblestone tastes better than this dry ass, stinky ass garbage" before he lost it. You gotta give him credit for lasting this long at least. Technoblade was too busy ranting to care either way.

~~~~~

This can't be happening.

"Dream."

"What."

He tries to sound neutral, but Techno can hear the snicker in his voice.

"You don't have to do this."

Surely he can reconsider-

"On the contrary, it has to be done."

Dream places a single card on the pile, which happens to be his last one. A Wild Draw 4, to rub salt into the wound. Techno decides that ending on that card should be illegal.

"Remember the deal. No bell for the rest of the day."

"NOOOOOOO!"

Unfortunately, that had been the condition he had to agree to in order to get Dream to play. Because apparently he was "ringing it all the fucking time and it was driving me crazy". There's that, and the threat that Dream would jump in the lava again if he refused. So clearly he had a choice in the matter.

He knew that there was a chance he could lose... but he had deemed it low enough to ignore it. How could he not expect the resident chessmaster of the SMP to utterly trounce him in UNO? He was a fool, and now he has to think about how to make up for the lost clout and money.

At least, judging from the quiet snickers, someone finds his misery funny. He finds consolation in knowing that he may have lost the battle but he won the war. In a way.

~~~~~

"So I almost got mauled to death but that was how I met Steve."

Dream stares at him the way Phil does when he does something particularly outlandish and he fails to see why.

"Can I ask a question."

"Sure."

"Why would the first thing you do upon running into a starving polar bear be hugging it?"

Of course he would question it, because obviously Techno's superior intellect is confusing to the common mind. He just really likes animals, okay? Steve's fur looked so soft and fluffy he just had to touch it, he almost got his face torn off and Phil never let him live that down. But he'll sooner accept governments than let Dream know that. He doesn't want to embarrass himself too much.

"See Dream, I live by a simple philosophy."

"Long live anarchy?"

"No. Well yes, but not just that."

Dramatic silence.

"Any animal is huggable if you aren't a coward."

Dream chokes on his potato, the only one he had eaten today, and Techno worries for a second before he realises that Dream is actually laughing.

"Tech- what-" His body is shaking. "-what is wrong with you??"

"It all started when I was born-"

~~~~~

And it's enough to send Dream rolling on the ground. It wasn't even that funny, but he supposes that prison does a number on you, and Dream's sense of humor was already terrible to begin with.

...Okay, now he had to make sure that the teletubby didn't laugh himself to death.

At the end of the day- at least Techno assumes it's the end of the day, he doesn't know how trustworthy his internal clock is anymore- the two inmates of Pandora's Vault are about ready to fall asleep, but Techno has one last thing to do before that.

"Dream, come here for a minute."

Said man gives him such a wary look that he almost feels insulted.

"...Why?"

"I won't bite, ya know."

"That's... debatable."

Bruh.

"Just get over here."

And Dream complies without any further complaints. Techno hopes he didn't sound too harsh, but his cellmate wasn't shivering uncontrollably, so he thinks he's in the clear.

"What?"

Techno lays his cape down on the very uncomfortable obsidian floor. Seriously, laying down for an hour is enough to make his joints ache. 0/10 would not recommend. How did Dream- right, he doesn't have a choice.

"What are you doing?"

"Making this prison less of a living hell. Come lay down."

"...I'm fine."

Why are you being so difficult, Techno wants to ask, even though he can guess the answer. When was the last time anyone did something remotely nice for him without any catch? Especially in here?

"Stop being difficult and sleep with me already."

Silence.

"...Pft."

"You know what I meant."

In his defense, everyone has their moments, and his usually don't happen that often.

"Stop being so difficult and-"

"Just... get over here. My cape is really soft."

"Is that why you wear it all the time?"

"...Among other things."

But mostly because it was really soft.

Dream still seemed apprehensive about the whole thing, and while usually Techno would have respected his wishes and left him be... the sight of his rival curling up in a corner of the cell, obviously trying to not aggravate his injuries as he did, was saddening even to him. Prime, he's really not good at this... but Dream probably definitely needs it.

So he pulls his roommate into a side hug, which is honestly the best he can manage without ruining his image. It's awkward, Dream is way too stiff, and maybe now would be the time to say something before embarrassment kills either or both of them. Something reassuring, comforting to help Dream relax in his presence for example.

"This is gonna be the best sleepover you've ever had."

...But the day he stops relying on humor for any kind of social interaction is the day it'll either stop working or get him killed.

"...This is so stupid."

And today was not that day.

Dream lets out a laugh, shaky but genuine, and relaxes. Techno sees that as a win. Since he's stuck here for a while, might as well make his favorite teletubby's life in here more bearable.

And it's finally over! It only took me... *looks at calendar* ...time is an illusion. Idk if I'm really happy with this, but on the bright side, it's... done? Now I really wanna continue that endersmile fanfic as I got some ideas, hopefully it won't take as long? God I am a writing disaster

Also if you saw any mistakes... no you didn't :)

[brunos-beloved]

wine and cards : bruno bucciarati x reader

summary: bruno comforts a wasted y/n, unknowing that he’s the reason.

word count: 1.7k

—✧—

“Va tutto bene, y/n?” Bruno asked, a concerned look softening his normally stiffly straight posture. You’d always wondered how he managed to keep such professional composure up for so long. You yourself had never had a problem with that either, but you rarely kept one up around those you knew didn’t need it or expect it, leaving that side of you for missions or deals. But Bruno? He was capo, and a very consistent and committing one at that.

“Y-yes, grazie Bucciarati.” The stutter that formed unwillingly came from the push of a hiccup at the bottom of your throat; you’d never been a drinker...but tonight was different. Tonight you just didn’t want to think of a way to deal with what you were feeling other than that, which you hadn’t even thought of yourself, but childishly took the suggestion from Abbacchio and the bottle of wine he’d popped open for himself. 

You recalled playing cards with Narancia and Fugo, now you knew you were a confident drunk. But you could only win for so long, and you came crashing down from the high. Now things seemed to be getting fuzzy, and Narancia and Fugo’s game you’d skipped out on produced squabble that felt like nails on a chalkboard to your numbing ears. Though, this messed up state you were in, this had been exactly what you’d wanted, right? So why did you suddenly feel so much more helpless and overwhelmed than before? Every word and every noise seemed to amplify the more you thought of it, and you felt a headache coming on, along with the desperate craving to just leave. Though your body didn’t move, and your limbs just grew more tired. The high was nowhere near worth this crash, you thought, even if it did seem to null your feelings for the capo for a while.

Although you had reassured him earlier, his long black shoes never did leave your gaze that had sunken to the floor. Was he watching them play? Even raising your head had become a chore with all the noise in your head and alcohol in your system. Rather than the side profile you’d imagined, you were met with sapphire eyes, focused on you rather than the boys. 

“Is everything alright, y/n?” Bruno repeated. His striking eyes seemed sterner than the gaze you’d received last time, so your own eyes darted back to the floor rather than providing an answer. Somehow though, that and your uncomfortable expression seemed to be enough for him. He offered you a hand with such grace you wondered again just how this man managed to present himself in such a way. From his composure to his very movements Bruno was someone who just mesmerized you with anything he did. That was the very reason you’d drank bottles tonight, you could never picture yourself keeping up with him, being enough for him, being wanted by him. That is what ate you alive. But, as a soft smile formed onto his full lips and in his beautiful eyes, black bob swaying as he tilted his head towards the door, how could you say no to an exit like that?

As expected, the way off your seat and onto the balcony had been anything but graceful. Rather than being lead by only his hand, you’d found him carrying half your weight, you tried not to hang off the arm supporting you. Unbeknownst to you, Bruno truly didn’t mind the close quarters. He’d always been so careful and doting towards you according to the others, but you’d assumed that was just how he acted with most he cared about, it was just in his nature. Finally arriving at said balcony, you’d couldn’t help but gawk at the stars. 

“I thought you needed fresh air.“ He mused, the same welcoming smile upon his handsome face. You couldn’t help but stare and feel lucky. You leaned onto the railing, feeling a chill breeze run through your hair.

“I did, thank you.“ Was all you could manage, staring at the way his olive skin soaked up the moonlight and wondering what it’d feel like under your touch. Another gust of wind ran across your bare shoulders, you couldn’t help but shiver. You’re cheeks were on fire, they had been for hours but now, in front of him, they felt completely ablaze, making the ice cold feel so much harsher. His warm palm landed onto your shoulder.

“Are you cold dolcezza? We can go back if-” Your mouth ran before he could even finish. You were finally back to enjoying the night, you weren’t ready to sleep and you weren’t looking to crash with your own thoughts yet again.

“No! I want to stay with you.“ Your boldness surprised the both of you, and a silent pause followed. Immediate dread ensued, and your blurry thoughts caused you to panic and defend yourself. “We don’t get to talk often, so it’s alright if I’m cold.” Even saying that made you crave a slap to the face, your inability to think anything through made you feel foolish, yet it had gotten you to say the truth. You slapped a hand over your mouth, as if it’d move on its own, then squeezed your eyes shut to sigh and hiccup. Opening them again to look up at the man, wondering if he felt the same, if his doting nature was for you and only you, rather than just anyone. Yet in your insecure mind that seemed so reaching, so you inhaled, “I’m sorry, I-I don’t know what I’m saying, you can leave if you’d like.” You said, though you prayed he wouldn’t. 

Your drooping eyes perked back up at the sound of a dry chuckle, it wasn’t something you heard often from a man so serious and hard-working, your heart tinged at the sight, remembering the heat on your cheeks. 

You’d gotten him to laugh. 

“Why would I want to leave? We don’t get time alone like this often, didn’t you say so?” You were equally surprised by the reply you’d gotten.

“I just thought what I said sounded stupid.“ You regret freeing your mouth of your palm for even a moment, realizing that acknowledging your stupidity only points out the stupidity you were trying to conceal in the first place. Bruno looks ready to laugh again, but luckily decides to spare your pride, and send you a smile instead. For that you were grateful. 

“Not at all, I thought it was sweet.“ He adds with no strain at all, easily honest. You breath stutters, and you’re also a little more grateful for your running mouth and wine stained lips. It’s your turn to chuckle, and Bruno takes the relief in your voice as a good time to leave you temporarily, coming back with a blanket for your chilled shoulders.

Bruno wraps it around you, careful and doting just like your friends had described, and your mind drifts from his eyes to his lips. “Here you go carino, better?” His hands haven’t yet left the ends of the blanket, so you’re drawn into him quite closely. The noise inside -a mix of blaring music and the gang reacting dramatically to a card game that got surprisingly competitive- muffles and fades, you wonder if it’d be alright to close the distance. All you’d need to do is cover a few centimetres, and you’d be pressed against his chest and in his arms, your stomach flips at the thought. Meanwhile, Bruno stares down at you, equally torn about letting go of you. You tear your head away and switch your gaze to the stars, your heart strained enough. 

“The stars, they’re really beautiful tonight, no?“ You feel Bruno shift, and his grip on the fabric around you loosens, looking out into the vast and dark sky like you’d asked. He hesitantly agrees, was he just breaking out of the same daze you were? When Bruno turns his head, you feel his arms about to free you, and without thinking twice, you use the angle of his face to your advantage. You grasped his cheek, pecking the other and drawing him back in. When you pull away slightly, his cerulean eyes are on you, and you wonder whether or not it was your place. Then the swift hands that had released you are easing into your waist, and your doubt dissipates, you’d actually thought correct. You can’t tell which of you closes the distance, but his lips are pressed onto yours, and your hands pull him in even tighter by the back of his neck. Your bodies press together, and the warmth he grants you is heavenly, so much so you wonder if you were dreaming, actually passed out onto a counter somewhere. Fortunately, when your eyes flutter open you instead see Bruno Bucciarati, blue eyes looking down at you with such fondness your heart could burst. You arms go from his neck to his shoulders, relishing in the soft fabric of his black and white suit as you press your face into his chest, humming in relief. You relax at the rhythm of his heart, the both of you enjoying the silent embrace.

After such warmth and relief all at once, you feel yourself sink into a soothing fatigue, and Bruno insists on getting you to bed. You wish to wrench yourself from the party inside the moment the mayhem of loud teenagers reach your ears, Abbacchio passed out in his room from his own wine presumably. 

“Well look what the cat dragged in! And with- Oooooh!” Mista whistles at you from the couch, you stick out your tongue at him, but you can’t help but grin as you lean back into Bruno’s arms and make your way up upstairs, eager to muffle the loud voices downstairs with your bedroom door. 

Once you arrive, Bruno helps you into bed, you reassured him you hadn’t had that much to drink, but he insists. The moment you curl up into bed you already miss his touch, needily flipping over to look back at him before he leaves. Your actions surprise him, he’d swore you would be out like a light, but you’re determined to see him out it seems. So, he humors you, and presses a tender kiss to your forehead before ushering you to sleep. 

“Buonanotte, amore mio.”

—✧—

first fic on here, it’s 12:30 AM, wooooooo :0 hope y’all enjoy :)

[as-a-matter-of-whump]

I've been wanting to ask this for awhile now, but may I pretty please get some Vincent giving Jonah some loving caring sickening wholesome fluff? (>0-0<)

I really hope it's loving caring sickening wholesome fluffy enough :D

This takes place right after the bath.

CW: painful wound cleaning, mention of suicide attempt, creepy/intimate whumper (as always :D)

‘Alright,’ Vincent stated and finally reached over to unlock the handcuffs, ‘I’d say you put on your pyjamas and we’ll take care of your arm afterwards… Here, I preheated the towel so you don’t freeze…’

He wrapped it around Jonah’s body as he stepped out of the tub, but then he turned around, got some medical supplies and headed to the door.

'Come over as soon as you're dressed, I can't leave you unsupervised for too long.'

He seemed to be in a good mood and Jonah couldn't risk ruining that. Entering the bedroom, he saw Vincent standing next to the vanity mirror, antiseptic, bandages and a bowl filled with water lined up on the wooden surface.

'Sit down my love, let me tend to that nasty wound now.'

Jonah obeyed hesitantly and held out his arm so Vincent could remove the bloodsoaked bandage. At first, he looked away, but in the end his curiosity was stronger and he turned his head around again. There, right beneath the jade bracelet, was the cut, not as deep as he thought it was, an angry red line crossing the pale white skin with smeared blood all around. In silence, Vincent started cleaning the wound with the warm water, dabbing the skin gently without pressure.

‘We have to take care that it doesn’t get infected,’ Vincent murmured after he was finished and started soaking a cotton ball with antiseptic. ‘Hold still, this is going to hurt a bit.’

He had only cleaned the skin next to the wound, but it still hurt so much that Jonah started to scream and tried to pull his arm away, but Vincent tightened his grip.

‘You stay exactly where you are, we have to get this done now. You remember that this is your fault after all, do you?’

Suppressing a sob, Jonah looked away again, waiting for Vincent to finally finish what he did.

‘Okay, erm… Normally, I would’ve preferred if you went to the hospital to get stitches for that, but since this is not an option, I’m going to clean the wound every evening now. Just try to stay as still as now and everything will be f- JONAH?!’

Without warning, the younger one had slid down from the chair and lay on the floor now, his eyes closed. Vincent dropped everything that he was holding in his hands, knelt down beside him and lifted his head.

‘Hey Jonah, can you hear me? Are you still with me?’

Slowly, the younger one opened his eyes, blinked and moaned silently.

‘Let’s get you into bed, my love. God, you’re so pale…’

‘It’s… I…’

‘Hush, don’t talk, just put your arms around my neck, do you think you can do that?’

This time, Jonah didn’t refuse the offer; he felt so weak and his arm hurt a lot, almost as if the antiseptic burned his skin. Vincent scooped him up, carried him over to the bed and tucked him in.

‘Do you want to drink something?’

‘Yes..,’ Jonah rasped; not drinking enough had probably been one of the reasons why he had fainted.

Vincent came back with a water bottle, helped him sit up and brought it to his lips. This time, he allowed him to drink as much as he wanted; the boy had suffered enough today.

Jonah looked down at his arms. The wound had been tended to properly and Vincent had even put a healing salve onto the bruises the restraints had left. It still hurt, but it wasn't too bad anymore.

'Make yourself comfortable and rest, my love. You should feel much better tomorrow.'

He ran a finger along the younger one's right arm and looked at him; suddenly he seemed a bit sad, as if he had something unpleasant to announce.

'You know you'll have to wear the handcuffs again tomorrow?'

'But… why?'

'I almost lost you, my darling… and I can't bear to see this happening again, so you will be restrained until I can trust you again. Maybe I'll order some soft leather cuffs so it won't hurt that much…'

'How long do you expect me to wear them if you're already considering-'

'However long it will take for you to heal, physically as well as emotionally, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see if it takes weeks or if this has to become a long-term solution... But we can look for something nice together and I'll let you decide which ones we're going to buy, how does that sound, hm?'

Jonah remained silent; what did Vincent expect him to say anyway? Oh, that's amazing, can I please have some bright red ones to draw even more attention to the fact that I’m your prisoner? Black wouldn’t be nearly as remarkable…

Absent-mindedly, he touched his collar, ran his fingers along the buckle and slightly fumbled with the padlock. The older man recognised it and picked up his phone.

'I'll turn it off for the night, okay? You’ve been good today, I don’t think you need to be punished.’

Jonah simply nodded and sat back, leaning against the headboard. He was so, so tired, but he knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep anytime soon.

'What's wrong, darling?'

Looking concerned, Vincent sat down on the edge of the bed, one hand resting on the younger one's shoulder.

'Nothing.'

'Of course there is, don't lie to me.'

'I don't, I just… I just can't sleep.'

'Oh.'

Vincent gave him a look of surprise, but then he got up again and headed downstairs. When he came back a few moments later, he carried two mugs; the sweet scent of chocolate filled the room.

‘Here, maybe this’ll help, my mum used to make cocoa for me when I couldn’t sleep as a child. Take it. I’m not trying to poison you.’

Carefully Jonah reached for the mug and took a tiny sip - it tasted so good, especially since Vincent hadn’t given him anything sweet for weeks. Closing his eyes, he brought the mug to his lips again while the other man made himself comfortable on his side of the bed and did the same. For a while, they just sat there in silence, enjoying their hot drinks; and just this once, Jonah was able to relax a tiny bit. While Vincent got up to put the empty cups aside, he sank down into his pillow, turned his head towards the window and looked at the star-studded night sky.

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Vincent asked, following his gaze.

‘Hmm...’

‘I promise I’ll take you outside again one day...’

‘Please don’t say that if you don’t mean it,’ Jonah replied glumly, ‘I know that I’ll be locked up inside this house for the rest of my life.’

‘Oh Jonah…’

Vincent turned around to face him and started running his fingers through the younger one’s hair.

‘You’re still so young, you shouldn’t worry about the future that much, the only thing that’s important is that we’re together, so I can make sure you’re cared for. And loved. You deserve all the love in the world, my sweet little turtledove…’

Slowly he bent down, pressed a tender kiss onto his forehead - and stopped as soon as he noticed the tears trickling down Jonah’s cheeks.

‘No, don’t cry, my love, please don’t…’

He reached out until he was able to grab the little fox plushie that was sitting next to the younger one’s pillow and held it out in front of his face.

‘Seeing you cry makes Paws sad… and we don’t want him to be sad, hm?’

When he looked up, Vincent put the fox down on his chest and gave his arm a little tug, so he could easily hug it.

‘There you go… It’s okay, dear, everything will be alright again. Just trust me this once, will you?’

Carefully, he put an arm around him, resting his hand on Jonah’s hand that was holding Paws. He would take care of his little family, whatever it might take.

***

taglist: @dannys-creative-corner @faewhump @legallylibra @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @whumpasaurus101 @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @starnight-whump @lave-whump @princessofonward @sophierose002 @wildlywhumping

[thedistantdusk]

Arcadia, Chapter 3

Thanks to everyone who followed along! Things are heating up with this chapter! Most of the referenced triggers from chapter 1 apply in this chapter specifically. Here's the link to chapter 2, if you're just seeing this now :)

Thanks again to @secretkeeper13, @accio-broom, @remedialpotions, @jamezbot, @jenoramaca, @not-steve42, @ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey... god, I'm forgetting people, and I'm sorry! But you're all amazing <3

___________________________

D A Y + T H R E E

As fate would have it, Ginny wakes before 0-700.

Not that she sleeps.

Nightmares, the likes of which she hasn’t experienced in years, torment her throughout the night. They leave her scared. Miserable. Guilty. Around 3 AM, she finally reaches for her Dreamless Sleep potion with shaking hands. For more reasons than one, she’s pleased that Harry’s slept on the couch.

She knows now just how stupid this entire mission truly was. The longer she analyzes it, the more she accepts that her bloody pride got her here in the first place. A chance for a promotion, however small, gave her false confidence in her ability to disregard a decade of sexual tension, all while trapped in close quarters with the person she wants the most.

She hopes Harry makes himself sparse today, though she knows that sounds cruel. But the longer they spend together, the clearer it becomes they’re on the cusp of something… and not something that would look good on a performance review. He’s been kind and understanding so far, even when she’s fucked things up. She just hopes she can ignore the most human parts of herself until they’ve dealt with this.

So at half-past 8, Ginny — Jenny — emerges from the house in a bright floral sundress and nude pumps. Were it not for the secret weapon clutched in her right fist, she might have fit in quite well... but Jenny has no intention of fitting in. Not anymore. In three confident strides, she marches across the front lawn, bends down, and spears the prongs of a lurid pink flamingo into the grass.

Yes.

She grins and takes in her work. How ghastly against the backdrop of earth tones! How repugnant!

Ginny steals quick glimpses over each shoulder, only to be met with the eerie, blanketed silence that’s defined Arcadia since their arrival. No activity at all. Which means she’ll have no issue with the next bit…

She strides to the mailbox at the end of their driveway and gives it a sharp kick. The post slides out of alignment, leaving it askew. Perfect. She returns to the house with a bounce in her step. Living with the twins taught her a thing or two about how to infuriate complete strangers.

She just hopes it’ll be enough.

___________________________

As luck would have it, it is enough. Her efforts receive reward more quickly than she thought— more quickly than she’s been conditioned to expect.

Scarcely an hour passes before she finds the warning she needs. And to be honest, it could’ve been there sooner; she just figured she’d give it that long before she checked.

Still, it’s not even 10 AM when she opens the door and sees it on their welcome mat: a folded paper with Pee-tri scrolled on the front. She can’t help but admire the sheer cheek as she unfolds it; this is the closest they’ll get to a public call-out for the way Harry insists on correcting everyone’s pronunciation. The message inside doesn’t surprise her, either.

Be like the others before dark. Or else.

Ginny glimpses out at the lawn, just to confirm— and yes. Sure enough. Just as she’d suspected, the flamingo's gone. The mailbox is straight. Everything’s back to normal.

She kicks the door closed with a smirk and wonders if they’re aware of how easily they’ve exposed themselves. How—

“What’ve you got there?” Harry calls from the sofa in the living room. He looks up from his laptop with bleary, dark-rimmed eyes. A wave of guilt washes through her; that sofa clearly didn’t get more comfortable overnight. Not that he would’ve accepted the alternative.

“Erm. A letter.” She waves in front of her and walks into the living room. “I’ve done a great job annoying them!”

He offers a gentle smile. “Any chance you’ll let me know who this ‘them’ is that you’re so worried about?”

Ginny rolls her eyes and settles on the other end of the couch. “You know I can’t—”

“Talk about your work,” Harry finishes, turning back to his computer. “Right.”

“Mm. Not exactly that I can’t… talk about my work,” she ventures, putting her feet up on the white ottoman. “More like I can’t give information until it’s essential knowledge for all parties involved. Based on criteria that I also can’t share.”

“Sounds like a fun job,” Harry deadpans, still looking at the computer. “But anyway, if I were to suggest something like… I don’t know…” He casually tilts the screen in her direction. “The fact that Oliver Skinner definitely has a criminal record, and maybe that’s worth looking into. You couldn’t confirm or deny that?”

Ginny just shrugs. “That’s correct. I can neither confirm nor deny.”

His theory is wrong, of course. Dead wrong.

They wouldn’t have sent an Unspeakable and an Auror into the country if this were a simple Muggle murderer. Harry would be able to suss this out, she reckons, if he had more sleep. Poor bloke.

He groans and cracks his back. “I’m starting to understand why King’s always so frustrated.”

“Probably because he has to deal with you all the time,” Ginny quips, reaching for a magazine on the floor. Ugh. Of course, it’s only the TV guide, Radio Times. They don’t even have a TV, but it came with the Daily Mail on Sunday.

Harry reaches for a glass of water on the coffee table. “Fine,” he relents, in between sips. “I’ll stay in my lane. But if I get bored, I’ll get tetchy.” He gestures to the computer. “And since they’ve given us this laptop, I’ve had time to do a bit of—”

“They’ve given me a laptop,” Ginny corrects, arching a brow. “As you’re well aware, Auror Potter, that is technically the property of the DoM.” She returns to the guide with a shrug. “I just don’t care if you use it, mostly because I don’t expect you’ll be looking up tits all day.”

He chokes on his water; Ginny just laughs and turns the page. Ooh, lovely! Eurovision looks particularly flamboyant this year…

“You’re absolutely right,” Harry says, once he recovers. “I’d never look up tits on government property!” He looks affronted as he hands over the laptop, but she knows he’s not done... not when he’s set that up so perfectly. Annnnd sure enough…

“You of all people should know I'm an arse-man, Ginny.”

Now it’s her turn for an unattractive snort as he winks over his shoulder and marches upstairs.

When he’s gone, Ginny rolls her eyes and opens her laptop. He’s an incredible liar on the arse-man front, but it was a good joke. A simple joke…. one that didn’t deserve looking into.

It’s just unfortunate that can’t stop these stupid fucking butterflies from erupting in her stomach like she’s ten years old again.

___________________________

He launches into the air again, the gardens of his neighbors spanning out in front of him. Each perfectly manicured. Each disturbing in its performative precision. None of this is real; none of this is life.

He pulled out the trampoline after dinner, when Ginny okayed it. He’s not used to that— checking before he does things. This whole exercise has been a great reminder that his teamwork skills are rusty, especially when he’s in a subordinate role. Ron left after their first year to work in the magic shop instead, which only made sense after… yeah. Harry draws a deep breath and jumps again. Ron and Hermione haven’t been problem-solving in his head for ages. There’s been no one to share the burden of choices or—

“OI!” Oliver’s voice thunders across the garden.

Harry smiles and takes another huge leap into the air. Just in time…

He rips open the fence door and stomps over, hands balled into fists. Harry’s never seen anyone look quite so furious while dressed in cashmere. And standing beside a trampoline.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Oliver hisses, eyes narrowed to slits. “Are you trying to make enemies, Henry? Is this entire estate a bloody joke to you?”

“Of course not!” Harry lands on his bum before he jumps up again. “This is very serious!”

“Oliver!” Sharon wails, hurrying over. “Oliver. Please! This really—”

“Keep your nose where it belongs, woman,” Oliver snarls, looking at her like she’s scum on his shoe. “No one wants your opinion!”

Sharon flinches… and this, more than anything else, gets Harry’s back up. “No need to take it out on her!” he snaps, climbing down from the trampoline. “Talk to me if you’ve got a problem, Ollie. Why not—”

But just as Harry’s feet touch the grass, something very weird happens: A dull buzzing fills his ears. Sharon and Oliver hear it too, but unlike Harry, they aren’t looking around in bewildered confusion. In a flash, the rage on Oliver’s face transforms into something much different: fear. And as the pressure grows, Harry can only watch as Oliver grabs Sharon’s hand, yanking her from the garden, when—

An unmistakable sound replaces the buzzing. A large piece of glass from somewhere in the front of the house shatters on the pavement. And with that, the buzzing stops.

Birds chirp again. Someone laughs in the distance. Harry jabs a finger in his ear, trying to clear it, but it seems Oliver’s returned to his furious state. He lunges towards Harry, a vein ticking in his neck, his hands outstretched as if to push him over— but Harry doesn’t have time for this. He’s already running around him, bolting towards the source of the sound, his hand inching for his pocket…

Because whatever they’ve got going on isn’t related to Oliver, is it? No… definitely not. That buzzing was too creepy to be muggle. Harry hadn’t really been convinced of the Oliver theory in the first place, even if the wanker has a criminal record for drunk driving. He mostly suggested it to Ginny to see if she’d give him any information.

Harry spots the broken glass the second he reaches the pavement. The lamppost right outside their house has shattered, light bulb and all. Bits of glass sparkle on the street, but the lamppost is at least 10 feet high. Harry scans around for signs of a ladder, or some form of a projectile… any method someone might’ve used to— oh! A baseball rolls around in one of the open garages across the street. He’s about to march over and collect it when his conscience stops him.

Because that’s the definition of circumstantial evidence, isn’t it? Harry sighs, rubbing his forehead. Snatching the baseball while working alone is one thing, but it’s not worth risking Ginny’s job. Especially because he reckons these thoroughly unmemorable homes are each equipped with monitoring systems. At absolute best, that would be… awkward to explain to the muggle police, especially without an obvious connection between the ball and the shattered lamppost...

Harry’s just about to turn back inside and write it off a freak occurrence when—

Shit.

His breath freezes in his throat.

What the...

He blinks a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it, but no...

There’s no weird buzzing this time… but something else is happening instead. The grass on the far side of their yard is bulging and curling, right in front of his eyes. The soil creaks as this… this mass — a huge sphere of some sort — passes through; bits of dirt fly into the air before settling back.

Harry’s veins turn to ice, his stomach churning. Work has introduced him to new, vile varieties of ghouls and nasties. He’s been bitten by a leprechaun. Stalked by a vampire. He’s encountered every disturbing otherworldly menace that one could imagine.

But he’s never seen anything like this.

His only solace is that it’s headed towards Mike’s empty house… this massive, rolling boulder that travels beneath the soil. ‘Boulder’ isn’t exactly the right term, though; he’s never seen a boulder move with a slinking, predatory grace. He’s never gotten gooseflesh from a rock, no matter how large.

And try as he might, he can only stand there, wide-eyed, his heart racing. Because now he knows for sure what Ginny only alluded to before: whatever they’re chasing isn’t human.

And it’s aware of them.

___________________________

The door creaks open less than five minutes after the glass shatters, but Ginny’s prepared.

She’s standing in the alcove just off the entryway, wand in one hand, fire poker in the other. It’s probably not the best strategy she’s ever had— but she reckons that if a Muggle were to catch sight of an altercation, it would be an easy memory supplantation. Wands and fire pokers don’t look that dissimilar, and—

“Ginny?” Harry calls. Directly into her ear.

Shit! She jumps into the air, the poker clattering to the ground.

“When did you learn to move like a cat?” she demands, turning to face him. “You nearly—”

“We need to talk,” he says brusquely. It’s only then that she takes in his wide, haunted eyes. His white pallor. The way he hasn’t even commented on the ridiculousness of her fire poker.

Oh.

He’s scared.

Scared in a way she hasn’t seen him in ages. Maybe ever. Which means he heard…? Shit. She’d might as well ask.

“What do you erm…” She toys with her wand handle. “Want to talk about?”

Harry heaves a tired sigh. “I’m only going to ask you this once,” he says flatly, rubbing his hand over his forehead. Then he blinks up at her, his eyes pulsing and stern. “What the fuck was that?”

“The… shattered lamppost?” she hedges. “I’ve no idea. I just—”

Apparently, that was the wrong response.

Harry groans. “You know damn well I don’t mean the bloody lamppost!” he snarls. “I mean that… that thing! First the weird buzzing, then whatever moved through the grass! It was like some creepy worm, or—”

“—not a worm,” she amends, staring at her cuticles.

This, too, was the wrong reply; she’s never seen him go from bewildered to enraged quite so fast.

Harry lets out a furious roar and kicks at an empty box. “This is why Unspeakables are so fucking annoying!” he shouts, tossing his hands in the air. “You never fucking say anything — even if it might help someone!”

Pfft! He can do better than that...

“Not sure what you expected,” she deadpans. “Would it help if I were a Speakable instead?”

Harry rolls his eyes and throws himself on the couch. Ginny just leans against the door… and waits. She can’t say she blames him for being angry. It’s probably made him feel vulnerable in ways he hasn’t in ages.

“The least you can bloody do,” Harry says, cutting into her thoughts, “is to let me know how to kill it.” He glimpses up at her, his chest still heaving. “Because if anything happened to you….” His hand curls around his wand, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “We both know I’d never forgive myself.”

Fuck.

Her heart clenches; as embarrassing as it is, tears sting the backs of her eyes. She wasn’t expecting that… but it makes perfect sense. He’s not angry because he’s vulnerable; he’s angry because he doesn’t know how to protect her.

Because he’s Harry.

Her Harry.

And try as she might, she can’t deny that. He’s hers… even though now he’s broken and angry and scared and alone. Which is probably why she loves the fucking fuck out of him.

No.

She stops herself, squeezing her eyes shut. Mission. Mission. They’re on a mission.

Right. She clears her throat and steps forward, two papers clutched in her hand.

“What’s that?” Harry grumbles as she hands them over. He scans the pages, brow furrowing. “Sugar… engine oil. Red Dye 40. What am I supposed to do with—?”

Ginny smiles and tries to make this easy. “It’s the report from the necklace. The thing that was on Mike’s medallion… it’s rubbish. Not blood, not some ghost slime. It’s just a weird mixture of types of rubbish.”

She should’ve figured he wouldn’t find this significant.

“What a brilliant scientific discovery.” Harry tosses the paper to the side. “Hermione would be thrilled.”

Ginny gnaws at her cheek, choosing her words carefully… but if he’s already seen it, if he’s already heard it, surely there’s no harm...

Harry rises to his feet and takes a step closer until he’s towering over her, all warm and brooding. They aren’t touching… not exactly. He’s just hovering close enough to give her strength, whether he knows it or not. When she finally gets the nerve to look up at him, his green eyes are swirling with more pain than rage. Truth be told, she prefers the rage. “I deserve to know,” he says thickly, like he’s suppressing something in his throat, “what the fuck is going on.”

Ginny breaks their eye contact. Some of this she hasn’t even shared with Attica yet. She’s violating about a million protocols by telling Harry first, but if they’re together on a mission…

“It’s… not what we thought. Not what I thought,” she admits softly, after a moment. “We came out here under the assumption of chasing something from the Thought Chamber. Something that erm… may have escaped. During a routine experiment.”

He’s not impressed, though. “Yeah,” he says, arching a brow. “I gathered all of that from your intro with the camera, thanks. Do you ever plan on telling me anything new?” He jerks his chin towards the window. “Because you’ve sure as hell never mentioned Evil Grass Monster Experiment #6, and that may have been helpful to fucking know before I saw it.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

His attitude is more infuriating than his actual words, but she lacks the patience for dealing with either. The bloody nerve, to act all impatient with information that’s kept secret for a reason...

“I don’t have to tell you shit, actually,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “And in case you’re unaware, I can protect myself.”

Harry pulls back with a laugh, but this one is cruel. Dark. The sort she’s never heard from him before. “Makes sense,” he says with a fake grin. Then he taps her on the nose. “Because when that thing outside inevitably kills someone else, we all know how well you’ll manage the guilt.”

Ouch.

She reels back, stung. He’s got to know that’s a low blow. Younger Ginny would have Bat Bogeyed him into oblivion, but she’s better now. She’s changed.

At least that’s what she tells herself as she glares at him, her hands fisted so tightly they turn white. “Say what you mean,” she manages several moments later, when rage isn’t clawing at her chest. “If you’d like to rehash our breakup, Auror Potter, I’m all ears!” She gives her best impression of an icy smirk. “This isn’t exactly professional… but then again, when have you ever been?”

Harry looks like he’s going to respond, but a loud vibration starts in his back pocket. “Fuck!” Now it’s his turn to leap into the air before he realizes it’s just his wand. And really, she’s tempted to laugh— but the look on his face helps her put the pieces together.

Because if his wand’s vibrating, that means it’s an emergency; only department heads can summon their employees like that. They’re the only ones with access to that sort of technology, not that she’s really interested either way.

“It’s King,” he mutters. She’s about to get on him for stating the obvious, but when he peers at her again, his face is filled with such timid yearning that she can only see the 11-year-old boy on the train platform. “Can I…erm. Use your mobile?”

Fine. Ginny nods towards the bedroom, her head still spinning. She’s still a bit angry with him, but he’s so fucking broken. They both are. And besides, they’ve got bigger problems. What could possibly have King so worried that he’d call Harry from a mission? The man is unflappable.

Harry returns a minute later, his face stony, jaw set. In another life, she might’ve seen the bulge in his pocket and asked if that’s just her mobile, or if he’s happy to see her.

Instead, she tucks her hair behind her ears like the seasoned professional she is. “There’s no reception inside,” she points out. “I’ve had luck calling Attica from up the street, right at the corner. Just watch out for…”

Harry smirks. “Grass monsters?”

Ginny draws a breath to consider her options. She could keep him in the dark forever, but isn’t that the whole point of this assignment? To learn? It’s time for the truth, she reckons...

“It’s erm. It’s called a tulpa, actually.”

His eyes light up at this. “A tulpa?”

Ginny shifts her weight and searches for the right words. “It’s a… it’s sort of like an evil imaginary friend, created by a group of people to do their bidding,” she explains, reaching for the discarded papers. “They come from the material of whatever’s underground. I’ve only heard of creatures made from clay or water, but since this village was built on a rubbish tip”— she flicks the papers with her fingers— “that’s our guy!”

She can almost see the gears spinning in Harry’s head as he studies the far wall. “So…” he says slowly, still peering off, “it’s basically an evil dump monster, made of rubbish, that can murder people.”

A laugh slips past her lips. It sounds a bit dumb when he puts it that way. She clears her throat and continues. “I was wrong because it’s not something that’s escaped, more like something that’s—”

“Formed,” Harry finishes quickly. For the first time all week, he sounds intrigued. Like he’s happy to be here. “So… they’ve made it to keep order, then?”

“It would seem so.” She shrugs. “I… honestly don’t know. But between the weird buzzing and the rubbish, it’s the closest match we’ve got. According to the system database, anyway.”

There’s another pause as Harry mulls this over. “So, how do we get rid of it, then?”

How fucked up is it that her heart warms at the way he says ‘we’?

Ginny brushes that aside. “Considering the mask in Gogolak’s house and the way they’ve made a point to tell us he’s in charge, I’d say he’s the one we need to get rid of.”

Harry crosses his arms over his chest but doesn’t object.

“Or at least… knock him totally unconscious,” she adds, swallowing; Gogolak’s a wanker, but she’d rather not kill him, either. “Beyond just being asleep. Because he sleeps at night, but the tulpa’s still here, which means he needs to be down for the count. Comatose, even.”

Harry’s wand buzzes again. Ah, shit; in all the hubbub, she’d forgotten about that.

Concern floods Harry’s face. “Give me five minutes.” He blinks. “Ok?”

She waves towards the door. “Duty calls.”

He gives her a weak smile and turns away; she begins the trek upstairs to send Attica an email update.

“Ginny?”

She stops to look down at him. Harry’s paused, halfway out the door. “Thank you,” he says softly, meeting her eyes. “And… I’m sorry. For everything. Ok? I’ll always, erm…”

But she can’t right now. She actually fucking can’t.

��Later,” she whispers, nearly begging. “Please. Let’s do this later.”

Because of course she loves him.

She’s always fucking loved him, even though that’s changed forms. It’s shifted. It’s evolved. He feels the same way… she knows he’s bloody feels the same way. She just doesn’t have the resources to deal with whatever this fuck is reigniting, right in front of her eyes, as the tulpa dances in the back of her head.

Luckily, he understands. Harry just swallows again, nods at her, and heads out into the night.

___________________________

As it would turn out, he was wrong about the identity of the summoner.

“Great news!” Hermione announces on the other end of the mobile. “MLE found Yaxley. He was hiding in a cave in Romania, just like you said.”

Harry snorts; he wishes that gave him more pride. “Well, if you’d listened to me months ago, then—”

“The important part is that we have him,” Hermione says, cutting across. “We need you back ASAP to prep for witness questioning. You’ll take the stand, of course. The trial’s set to start next week!”

He can practically hear her bouncing with excitement. Very little brings her more joy than trials of former Death Eaters.

“Erm… about that.” Harry rubs the back of his neck. “We’re actually right on the cusp of something here. I’m gonna need a couple more days to wrap things up.”

“Really?” Hermione sounds surprised. “Kingsley and Robards said you’d be pleased. Said you found this mission as useless as they did.”

Fuck, he was such an arse.

“Well, things… changed,” he offers lamely. “It’s going really well. This mission is so important to her. I’d just hate to leave at the last minute.”

“Ohhh?” Hermione draws out the word in a way that suggests she finds herself quite clever. Even before she asks, he knows what she’s on about. “How’s it going with Ginny, then?”

Harry rolls his eyes. Her coy prodding is obvious, even over the phone.

“As I already said, it’s going well,” he replies flatly. “We’re a great team. Always have been.”

But she can’t let him have that one, can she?

“Well… not always,” Hermione allows. “After Percy—”

Harry groans. For fuck’s sake, what’s her obsession with stating the obvious? “Yeah, well,” he retorts, “I’d like to know who you think did well after that, especially since…”

He trails off with a sigh.

Especially since what, exactly?

He toys with the fraying ends of his hoodie string.

Especially since Ginny was the last to speak with Percy? That she still carries the weight of the guilt for what she said that night? That she’s never admitted it, but that he suspects her choice to become an Unspeakable was influenced by the things she wishes she could un-say?

Harry makes a face. That’s corny as fuck, isn’t it? What a thing to pull from his arse...

Hermione interrupts his thoughts for a bit of bragging. “Well, Ron and I have done just fine.”

He can almost imagine her staring at her engagement ring in dreamy affection. The mental image makes his reply sound more bitter than he intends.

“Well,” Harry snaps, “Ron wasn’t the last person to speak with Percy. So I’m not sure how you could compare the two, really.”

Shit.

The silence on the other end tells him he needs to apologize, even if it’s true. Fortunately, Hermione gives him an easy out. “Anyway.” She clears her throat. “I’ll give you until tomorrow night, but we really need you the following day. If you haven’t settled this, we’re swapping you out. Got it?”

Harry sighs. He’s exhausted, but this couldn’t possibly take much longer. Ginny’s more or less got the proof she needs now. They just need to confront Gogolak, knock him out, and—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Harry cranes his neck towards the source of the noise. Huh… weird. Far up the street, flashing lights tip him off. That’s definitely Oliver’s Audi, the one parked in the driveway directly beside theirs. It’s in utopia blue with a metallic finish, a detail Oliver probably mentioned at least fifty times the other night. Then, while Sharon and Ginny were out walking the dog, Oliver began a mind-numbing lecture on the car’s exact miles per liter. Harry was a bit drunk, which is probably why he interrupted to ask a much more important maths question: How many blow jobs per week is too many, exactly?

Even from a distance, Harry can tell that Oliver’s nearly the same shade of murderous red now; he storms from the house and turns off the alarm with his key fob. But then he pauses, glancing around like something’s spooked him. He must decide it’s not that significant, though, because he huffs back inside soon enough. Fucking wanker...

“....Harry?”

“Sorry!” Harry shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry, that works. See you then, Hermione.”

“Can’t wait!” she trills. He doesn’t need to see her face to know she’s smug and grinning.

___________________________

Two minutes after Harry leaves, Ginny feels it again: that same sensation she experienced while walking Captain Bone.

She’s sitting at her laptop when it starts… this deeply unsettling shift. It stands the hair up on the back of her neck. She rushes to the window on instinct, but just like before, everything outside looks the same. There’s no “moving grass monster,” as Harry called it. Not yet, at least.

Still, she can’t deny it’s growing louder. Getting stronger. And now that she’s felt it for a bit longer, she can put more words to it. It’s like she’s plummeting through the absence of sound; like all the wind’s been sucked from the air. It’s a building pressure, a mounting unease, and before she knows it, her whole body starts to shake.

Then two things happen in quick succession: that weird feeling stops, and a car alarm begins to blare in the distance.

Weird.

She shudders. This whole thing is so fucking weird. Weird is her job, and this place is still Very Fucking Weird. Seriously, who enjoys living here? She’s reaching for her wand, just in case, when the front door slams open.

In retrospect, it’s a blessing she knows Harry as well as she does… because she can tell that those heavy, clobbering footsteps don’t belong to him. She knows he’s not the one drawing deep, ragged breaths as he marches up the stairs.

She hides around the corner of the bedroom, her heart racing, and goes through a mental list of spells she might use. Shield charms. Enchantments. The buzzing’s stopped, so this probably isn’t the tulpa… but who else would be here? Gogolak? It sounds more human than—

“Jenny?” a deep, soothing voice asks. “Are you in here?”

Her breath freezes in her throat. She’s only heard that voice once before… but it’s so similar to her former life that she identifies it at once.

“Mike?” A wave of relief washes through her. She shoves her wand into her dress as she comes around the corner. Sure enough, there he is, in the flesh. Mike Snodgrass. A man she presumed dead days ago.

“Hi!” Mike pants. He cracks a smile. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but.” He winces, wiping a palm on his ripped khakis. “Been hiding!” Fuck. His whole outfit (yellow Polo, khakis) is the same he wore days ago to unload their boxes, except now it’s filthy. Stained. Like he’s been living beneath cars and inside drains. He’s just missing his Saint Julian medallion, which she’s sent to the Ministry.

Ginny feels sick. She wrote him off as dead so carelessly...

“I’ve been trying to take it down,” he adds earnestly, peering at her. His cheeks are caked in something red and grimy, the same stuff she stuffed into her bra. He’s been tailing the tulpa, she realizes, her stomach plummeting…

Except he’s got no clue what he’s doing.

“I was about to leave the development, to just run away, but that’s when I figured out it was coming for you two!” He shudders, closing his eyes. It feels like he’s been waiting a long, long time to say this. “And I’ve been aimless without Jess in the first place. So what was the point in leaving, really, if I could save…?”

He trails off, clearing his throat; when he looks up at her again, there’s a flash of annoyance in his eyes. “I’ve been leaving clues, though! Why didn’t you listen?”

“Clues?” Ginny sounds like she’s a million miles away.

Mike’s nearly pleading now. “You had to go and kick the mailbox and stick the flamingo in the grass, didn’t you?” He raises his pointer finger. “And even though I left you a note, you had to make it even worse! It only attacks when the sun goes down, see.”

“You… you left the note?” she whispers. She was so certain that it was from Gogolak...

But Mike proceeds in such a rush it’s clear he hasn’t heard her. “It was about to get Henry by the trampoline, so I threw the baseball as a diversion. I broke the lamppost, too— which worked. For a second,” he adds hastily, glancing over his shoulder.

“How did you also set off the car alarm— oh.” Her head’s still spinning. “Buddy system. Right.”

Mike dangles a keyfob. “Covenant rules. Stole the spare off Jane.” He glances into the hall again before whipping back to face her. “It’ll need a sacrifice tonight, though,” he adds grimly. “And every night, until you all have perfect behavior. It was coming for you earlier, see. We aren’t meant to be outdoors after dark without a permit for dog-walking, so.” He shrugs. “If there’s an unapproved disruption like a car alarm, it knows just where to hunt.”

It’s then that the final pieces of this dreadful puzzle slide together in her brain. “Captain Bone,” Ginny breathes; she swears a feather could knock her over. “He was the first since we arrived. Punishment for us sticking out.”

“I couldn’t save him,” Mike laments. “It came up and snatched him. So I threw in my medallion, right after his collar, just to make them think I was already gone.”

“That’s… that was brilliant,” she admits, biting her lip. “Thank you. You didn’t have—”

“Nah,” he says firmly. “I did. For starters, you remind me so much of…” He stops mid-sentence, an odd expression on his face.

For a second, she thinks he’s being sentimental, but then she feels it too.

Shit.

The hairs on her arm stand up. It’s back… that weird way she felt before. Like the air’s sucked from the room. That creeping, clawing silence. This time, though, it only gets louder, louder, louder, until she’s throwing her hands over her ears, all hope of self-defense forgotten.

But Mike knows what he’s doing. He knows exactly what he’s doing. She doesn’t have the chance to object or get her wand before he’s ripping open the closet door and throwing her inside. Ginny opens her mouth in a startled cry, but it’s like she’s screaming underwater, the sound distant and distorted. Mike slams the door closed with her inside and stomps to the center of the room— but now the thundering, roaring wind is causing her physical pain… it’s so loud now that it reverberates in her chest, so loud that her hands shake as she reaches for her wand at long last, but fuck fuck fuck, it’s too late…

It’s too fucking late.

Because Mike’s made a choice. One he can’t take back. He just stands in the middle of the room, puffing out his chest, offering himself as the proud sacrifice, even as the noise grows so loud that Ginny screams her throat raw.

She feels it enter the bedroom, this looming, shifting mass— but by then, she’s certain her ears are bleeding, her eardrums bursting. Her whole body rattles and shakes as she peers through the slats in the closet door, but she’s frozen. Stuck. Miserable. She couldn’t cast a spell if she tried… even as the tulpa oozes into the room, lunges itself back, and swallows Mike with a sickening squelch.

Even though the slats of the door, Ginny’s sprayed with blood. Covered. And she’s dizzy now… so dizzy. A drop of blood trickles into her eye; she reaches up to wipe it from her face, and it’s only then that she hears her own screams again. They reverberate through the small space, anguished and pleading, so loud that she’s certain someone up the street could hear, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t fucking care. She just screams over and over and over, her nails clawing at the walls, until the world slips away into darkness.

___________________________

Blood.

It’s the first thing he smells as he charges up the steps. His chest squeezes, his eyes water, his head pounds over and over again with one word: No.

No. No. No.

Not Ginny. It can’t be.

But almost as soon as he smells the blood, he hears her screaming, and yes! His heart soars. Screaming is good; screaming means she’s alive and breathing and—

Fuck.

His dinner rises in his throat as he steps into the bedroom. He smelled the blood from the steps, he hadn’t expected… this much. It always takes him aback, exactly how much blood is in one human body, and he’s certainly never seen it sprayed, all over the floor… covering the walls. Covering the closet, even, where Ginny’s still screaming.

He flings open the door, thinking he’s prepared for what he might see. Somehow, though, none of that measures up. Because he’s dealt with tears in his line of work… but he’s never, ever seen her so broken. His chest clenches when he takes her in. Her perfect suburban dress — the yellow floral one, the one he liked so much— is now red and grimy, caked in blood, as Ginny rocks back and forth on the floor, sobs wracking her body.

Blood’s covering her face, too, and her arms. Dried trails of it have crusted around her eyes, like she’s fallen asleep wiping them away… or perhaps lost consciousness. The thought is too terrible to bear. He kicks the door open completely and brings her into his arms in one fell swoop.

She melts against him, her voice raw and broken. “H-Harry!” she manages. “P-please! I need-I need!” She begins to shake, pressing her face to his chest.

“A shower,” he says firmly, stepping into the en-suite. “You… you just need a shower. Ok? And maybe some calming draught, I’ve got some in my luggage, and—”

“No!” she cries, shaking her head. Her eyes are wide and filled with horror. “Don’t… don’t leave. Don’t leave me, Harry, please!”

“I… ok,” he allows, carrying her to his luggage to retrieve the bottle. She clings to his neck as he reaches for it, but she weighs next to nothing. Fuck, she’s so thin… he’d just been too busy eyeing her up to realize exactly how thin. What a complete wanker.

It’s not difficult to unzip the suitcase with one hand and pass her the bottle. “Take this,” he urges, thrusting it into her hands. “Please, Ginny. You’ll feel—”

She’s already downed it before he gets to the end of the sentence. She tips her head back, drawing air into her lungs. “Thanks.” Her voice is still hoarse. Ragged.

“Shower, then,” he murmurs, walking her into the bathroom. He feels her start to relax against him, her body growing looser, as he opens the curtain and turns on the tap.

“Thanks,” she whispers again, her head tucked beneath his chin. His fingers itch with restraint; he’d do anything, he thinks, to hold her against him. To press a kiss to her temple. To tell her he loves her and that she’s beautiful and perfect and he’s sorry, so sorry, that any of this happened and—

She peers up at him, her eyes more focused now, less wide-eyed and horror-struck. “Would you stay here?” she asks, biting her lip. “While I shower? Just so I’m not—”

“‘Course.” Harry swallows, putting her on her feet. She lands with unintentional grace, one foot after the next.

“And can you… erm.” She turns her back to him, lifting her hair above her zipper. His hands shake as he reaches for the clasp. He knows the exact shape of her back as he slides it down, over the middle bump of her white bra strap. He nearly unstraps that for her, too, before he catches himself. It reeks of intimacy, doesn’t it? All of this…

His eyes linger on the soft swell of her bum before he turns around, self-disgust hammering in his throat.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he adds feebly. He balls his hands into fists as her dress hits the floor… followed by her bra. And her knickers.

“Not your fault,” she croaks, stepping into the shower. He smiles, his glasses fogging up as he moves to sit on the closed toilet seat. Even covered in blood and traumatized, she can't bring herself to blame him.

She finishes several minutes later.

“Erm… towel?” She shuts the water off. “Could you?”

“Sure,” he soothes, thrusting one through the curtain. “D’you want me to leave, or…?”

Ginny manages a weak snort. “Nah. Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

He chuckles at the door as he turns around again. She’s right, of course; he knows every bloody inch of her… but it’s not quite the same now.

There’s a tap on his shoulder. He whips around to face her. Admittedly, she looks… better. The blood’s gone. Her eyes are still red-rimmed from sobbing, but she’s looking a bit less like a woman who witnessed a death. Which reminds him…

“Erm. Give me a second to get it all cleaned up?”

Ginny shudders and settles on the toilet seat; he immediately kicks himself for asking. “Yeah,” she says a moment later. “Just… come get me, ok? When you’re done?”

He nods.

___________________________

It can’t be later than 10 PM when he finally carries her to the bed, still wrapped in a towel.

He’s exhausted from the nights on the sofa, but he knows she’s worse off. He’s cleaned the bedroom fairly well, he thinks, considering. There’s a rust-colored stain above the closet that he reckons won’t go anywhere anytime soon. He just hopes she doesn’t see it.

He rests her on the duvet surface, fully prepared to head downstairs for the night— but the pleading look on her face informs him he’s got other plans, instead. So without sharing a single word, he spreads his palms, lies beside her, and waits.

It comes eventually, as he knew it would. One person can’t deal with all that, see all that, without eventually cracking. And as a fellow fucked-up individual, he would know.

It starts as simple tears, ones that he wipes away. It progresses into sobs… full-body sobs. The sort he heard coming up the stairs. He’s surprised she’s got any left, but Ginny’s always been the sort to keep him on his toes. And just as her water-dark hair starts to dry and sprout red tendrils, he faces the thing he expected least of all: a kiss.

She starts softly. Slowly. Her lips so tender and soft that he forgets everything. She moans against his mouth, her whole body leaning into it; he’s instantly reminded of how much he’s fucking missed her. How lonely he’s been. How could he have forgotten the tiny mewl she makes in the back of her throat as her tongue parts his lips? He must’ve blocked it out, he realizes, as she begins to slide her body against him, panting, as she tips her head back. His lips trail down her neck, nibbling and biting, as she grips his arms and hair and bum. Because if he’d remembered all of these little details, he’d have gone mad long ago.

He’s throbbing hard by the time he gets to the tail end of her towel, which brushes the tip of her thighs. He tries to adjust himself, to—

“You can take it out, you know.”

Oh. He blinks up at her, his breath freezing in his throat. She’s peering down at him, her lips red and swollen.

“I know you’re hard,” she adds, her voice still raw. “So if it’s uncomfortable… take it out.”

He arches a brow from his position at her thigh. He’s about to retort with something snappy. Something that might keep them bantering for ages. But Ginny has no patience.

“Please.” It’s nearly a command. She blinks down with glassy eyes, her lips swollen. “I want you, Harry.”

Fuck. He groans, rubbing his cock against his palm to relieve some of the pressure. It doesn’t help for long, not that it matters; he’d rather focus on her, anyway. So with a slip of his fingers, the towel opens. She releases a breathy moan, tipping her head back.

Naked.

She’s finally naked. In front of him. His breathing grows ragged, his eyes scanning the territory somehow both totally familiar and completely new. She is thinner; he was right. Her hip bones jut out now, her stomach more sunken. But most of her is the same. The smattering of freckles on her chest. The way her breasts have puckered and darkened, the way her chest is rising and falling so fast. The thatch of dark red hair at the apex of her thighs.

“Well,” she quips. He blinks up at her as she reclines on her elbow. “Are you going to fuck me, Harry, or just stare all day?”

With that, he removes his glasses and gives her a smirk— her only real warning— before he kisses her one more time, just as his fingers spread her thighs.

She opens beneath him with a breathy sigh. Fuck, she’s so wet… he groans into her mouth as he dips his fingers further and further down. She’s dripping by the time he finds her clit… by the time he begins to swirl in tight circles. Clockwise. The pattern that screams of such intimate familiarity that it’s as if the years never passed.

He’s scarcely done anything, but she’s already writhing against his fingers, arching her back. “Please,” she slurs after a minute, “put them in.”

He’s never been one to deny her, has he?

It’s like muscle memory how quickly he finds his face between her thighs instead. He spares a moment of self-indulgence as he closes his eyes, breathing her in. She smells like home. She always has. It’s comfort… but more than that, it’s proof. Proof she wants him as much as he wants her. It’s why he stuffed his face in her knickers whenever he got a spare moment on the Horcrux hunt: one hand on that black lace, the other pulling at his cock. It’s bloody erotic, seeing proof of how much she wants him… but it’s more than that.

It’s love.

And despite all the things he’s forgotten tonight, he’d never forget this. He presses two fingers inside her, his hands shaking, and lets his body do the rest. Fuck, he’s missed this. She cries out above him, her hands grasping at his hair, tugging him closer. He’s never forgotten this… the way she tastes. The way she smells. The right way to run his tongue against her clit. Exactly how many fingers she needs, pressed against her just there… crooked in a certain position… just as she begins to thrust herself up and down on them, her cries growing louder, more insistent… and yesssss, there it is, she’s right there, right fucking there—

“Harry!” Her hair rubs against the pillow with abandon. “I’m… I’m so close,” she pants, her body starting to shake.

“Come for me,” he commands, his cock fit to burst, his face slippery. “Come for me, Ginny.”

He returns to her clit for a split-second before she says the words that change everything.

Her whole body tenses, a blush spreading up her chest. “I love you!” she cries, her voice strangled… and with that, she’s coming, clenching around him, her body shaking as he rides her through it.

What he doesn’t tell her is that he comes, too. The second those words wash over him. Those fucking words that prove he’s fucked up, fucked up, fucked up… but he can’t exactly help that, can he?

He just shoves his face into the duvet, thrusting his hips once, twice, and with a grunt, he’s off. His cock tightens and bursts, filling his boxers. Soaking through his jeans. He pulls back, dizzy, when the clenching finally stops.

Luckily, she seems too distracted to notice. Ginny’s half-asleep as he rises from between her thighs, pulling the blanket over her. He presses a kiss to her temple and makes quick work of removing his soggy clothes. Fairly embarrassing, this. Like he’s 16 again and rutting on the lawn.

He mutters a quick cleaning charm and changes into basketball shorts before settling down beside her in bed… making sure he’s on top of the duvet.

But as he drifts off, there’s something far less sentimental that hammers through his chest: They need to get their shit sorted.

Before he ever, ever lets that happen again.

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

being honest i dont get jm using a award to say he misses tannie... we don’t know 90% of their lives but they are very close to the point of still sleeping together sometimes. and going deep if they were really a couple jm woudnt miss taes dog right? and even as friends he could visit it. unless its because of their schedule right... this kind of comment sometimes confuses me and haters will use it as “they arent close” lol. i just wanted to know your pov.

Judging by Admin 2's reaction, as well as some others in our asks, I have a feeling I was the only one with a more realistic expectation, or lack of expectations, as I waited for the BTS profiles to be posted. Based on last year's, I knew expecting something grand out of Tae, and especially Jimin, would just be me setting myself up for failure, which is what I think happened here.

But, let's discuss it.

I spent a solid couple of hours making an excel table last night that contains everything every member said about every member (sourcing 3 translators for maximum insight) to see if really what Jimin chose for Tae is so "bad" that suddenly people are sending us asks like this one, and another one I'll add later down the line. And the conclusion I've come to is that...what he gave to Tae, as well as Hobi and Seokjin, as awards are the only ones that have any actual emotional/personal connection to them.

With Namjoon and JK Jimin basically states the obvious--Namjoon is tall and JK has gained muscle mass, meaning nothing new or with a proper emotional connection was stated; to Yoongi he made the same request many other members have made, so a work connection, nothing inherently personal.

Now, compared to that--Seokjin teases him/them, which isn't new info, so Jimin asked him to stop or do it less, a valid request which I'm sure he also voiced to Seokjin outside of this FESTA profile and also shows a degree of personal connection; Hobi gets requested to not walk away after asking Jimin a question, which again shows a personal connection and that it's a reoccurring thing; and lastly Tae with Tannie.

Something I've noticed is that some ARMY, who are used to our western celebrities and draw conclusions about idols based on those parameters, forget that BTS are busy, like whatever you consider busy, take that and multiply it by ten. During his vlive with Hobi and Yoongi back in April, Tae said that they are much busier and their lives far more hectic than any of us realize. Taking that into account, and the fact that one of the members (I think it might have been Seokjin) mentioned they work at least ten hours a day for 360 days a year with practice, MV and CF filming, photoshoots, interviews, recording and working on music, meetings, and many other things we have no idea about, do you really think Yeontan lives with Tae full time? A dog needs to get walked and fed but if Tae is out of the house every day for at least ten hours, what would happen to Tannie? He'd just sit around at home alone all day which just isn't fair, so I'm sure Tannie lives with Tae's parents much the same way Micky lives with Hobi's parents and/or his sister, JKs dog lives with his family, Holly lives with Yoongi’s brother, Moni with Namjoon's, and years ago Seokjin had to give his sugar gliders to his parents because he was too busy to take care of them.

Based on that of that, I'm not sure how often Tae get's to see Tannie. Probably not all that often, to be honest. So, if Tannie's owner doesn't get to see him often, I'd assume Jimin gets to see him even less (if we work on the assumption that Tannie lives with Tae's parents and thus Tae could only really see him when visiting them or when they visit him, that means Jimin wouldn't be able to see Tannie just like that either, since that would be like intruding on family time, right?). And we know Jimin loves Tannie, so him using that award to say he misses him and is asking about him shows care and an emotional connection to Tannie. Do I think Jimin also asks Tae privately about Tannie? Absolutely. And still, while Jimin didn't give Tae the, I don't know, "hot body Award" like Yoongi did with Namjoon or the "person I love most in the world award" (which we should know by now would never happen, and if you expected something of that intensity level, than I'm sorry but you've set yourself up for disappointment from the start), he still drew a personal and emotional connection between himself and Tae, as well as the pet Tae loves dearly.

More below the cut:

Jimin could’ve asked about the other pets of the members, but he didn’t, he only ever really talked about Tannie, and here he does it again, so doesn’t that show that he has a bond with him, a closer one than the other members since they don’t/didn’t ask about him (except for Hobi that one time on weverse)?

Speaking of Hobi, am I the only one who finds it interesting and cute that he only drew little hearts for Jimin and Tae when writing down their awards?

Also, we have to remember that these profiles are for us, fan content (remember when Jimin asked Tae last year to post more pictures of Tannie on weverse because ARMY miss seeing him, so what if this is drawing a connection/parallel to that?), and not meant as the members “confessing” something to each other that they otherwise wouldn’t or don’t have the chance to do so. It’s not meant to be all that serious and instead just be fun and nice for us to read, show us a bit of their dynamic and that’s it, no world shattering revelations to be found, from any of them. Or do you really think Yoongi doesn’t like Jimin just because he told Jimin he’s trying too hard to be funny? It’s just part of their dynamic. Or that none of the members have anything else to say to JK besides commenting on his body/appearance? As for vmin, I’d like to remind us of this moment from their Friends subunit interview for FESTA 2020:

Whatever Jimin and Tae want to say to each other, they don’t need FESTA to do it, or us to be there as witnesses. Like Tae didn’t already say enough by telling us that 95z is love. Or Jimin by writing Friends.

From anon: because of you I came back da Namjin. I am a senior army and 2 years ago I left Namjin because I thought they broke up. You made me three Vmin but after what JK wrote about Jimin and after Jm himself about his chances I think that vmin are not together or Jimin withdrew. I think Jk would not dare to write about Jm that he has cute fingers etc if vmin were a relationship. it goes too far and confuses Jk too much. I don't want to say that J / k*ok is real because it certainly isn't !!!!

Now this is where I just sit and sigh heavily because it’s exactly what I expected and I will admit it irks me to no end. Let’s establish a little timeline:

Based on the FESTA Mission! BTS 4 Cuts Teaser that was posted earlier we can deduce that at least part of FESTA was already being prepared back in the first half of March, since on March 12th Jimin, Namjoon and Seokjin had their salad making vlive. Let’s suppose that everything FESTA related was prepared and written out by the members around that time as well. Sometime later BTS filmed YOU QUIZ followed by LET’S BTS and BTSxGame Caterers and everything else we’ve seen after that.

Or going a little further back to sometime in November 2020 while they were preparing for MMA 2020 and the Black Swan performance. We got the practice video today and if you pay attention to Jimin and Tae even there you notice that while Tae is waiting for his turn in the choreography, Jimin runs past him after his part is done (0:55) and they pat each other or do a “high five” or something along those lines as a way to cheer each other on. A very “we’re broken up” or “I will break up with him soon” thing to do, right? Or in min-January when Tae posted seven pictures out of which three were of just Jimin after an ARMY on weverse asked if anyone had any nice pictures they could use as wallpaper for their phone. Between all that I’m having a hard time honestly finding any moment where either of them seemed sad or “cold” toward the other the way you would be and feel if the person you love pulled away from you or broke up with you.

If you are still unconvinced and still think that is what Jimin tried to communicate to us, would Tae really have gone on national TV and said he likes Jimin the most? And would Jimin have agreed that he likes him a lot as well? Or looking at the making video of their Kloud Beer CF that was posted today as well, would Jimin really be looking and interacting with Tae this way if he decided to end things between them?

Also, going back a little, your mention of Jimin reflecting upon opportunities/chances now that it’s a new year. My question is based on what you made the judgment that this comment has to be about vmin and not about something entirely different in Jimin’s life, or maybe something connected to BTS as a whole? Just because of him asking Tae about Tannie? Jimin, as well as Tae and the other members, have entire lives outside of just their bonds with each other, entire careers, passion projects, families, friend groups, and that little bit of time they have to themselves, so immediately thinking Jimin’s comment must be related to his relationship/bond with Tae basically makes it seem like Jimin’s life is a romcom or a TV show in which the only thing that matters is if the main character will date or remain in a relationship with character B or not, but life isn’t like that.

Personally it reminded me of something Tae said during their Bring the Soul documentary about how BTS had the opportunities to go higher faster but they decided against them. Perhaps Jimin’s comment was about something like this as well, especially since we know Jimin is a very private person and very selective of the personal things he shares with us and the ones he doesn’t.

For the FESTA profile JK decided to give Jimin the “Cute Award” with the explanation that his “Face, height, fingers are cute” which, honestly, is just saying something that a) is true and b) has been said in millions of ways by every member across the last couple of years. I don’t see what the issue here is? During one of the episodes of BTSxGame Caterers Seokjin said that Jimin is very cute and that he has a small, beautiful face, so really he even added the word beautiful in there, which JK did not, so what really is the issue here? The fact its JK, right, that’s where the issue lies, to which I ask why? On this blog we’ve already established that there is (in our opinion and based on everything we’ve seen and heard) no romantic connection between JK and Jimin (nor Tae), not now and not in the past either, so why is him saying that Jimin is cute (which he is known for even by people outside of ARMY, or like James Cordon calling him his cute baby mochi) is an issue but Seokjin or any other member is not? Either we use the same measurements for everyone or we don’t compare or make such assumptions about any of them.

What I find curious, because this does make it seem like you, anon, are someone influenced by J*k*ok shippers and their opinions, see an issue in JK saying that about Jimin, and how that’s “proof” that Jimin and Tae can’t possibly be together, and yet you took no issue to Namjoon basically saying he wants to give Tae an award because he is so handsome he is above every list or Yoongi comparing him to Michelangelo's David, both of these being much more superlative and grand complements/awards than JK saying Jimin’s face, height and fingers are cute.

It’s funny how things that Jimin and Tae have said about and to each other that make their bond very clear (I want to live with my lovely Taehyungie forever or here is my love for you while handing Tae a bunch of red heart balloons or 95z is love, a statement I’m sure he wouldn’t post if that sentiment weren’t mutual) are all questioned or ignored, but something as basically trivial as a comment about Jimin being cute is turned into a major issue. The mental gymnastics is fascinating.

Lastly, going back to the first anon and their mention of how haters will use Jimin’s Award for Tae as “proof” that they “aren’t close anymore”--why do we care? Like Namjoon said in the Mic Drop lyrics Haters gon’ hate. They will say a lot of things about a lot of things and even make things up if they feel like it to push their agenda, so really, regardless of what Jimin would’ve said, or not said, they would’ve found a way to twist it and make it fit their narrative. Besides, what haters think has no actual effect or bearing on what Tae and Jimin have with each other, and neither does what other shippers claim. Haters and other shippers don’t control the narrative, BTS do, and everything Jimin and Tae have shown us in 2021, as well as the last eight years, shows me that their bond has only ever grown stronger and closer and more beautiful and awe inspiring, even while haters claimed they stopped being friends years ago, so why should you or I care what they think?

Like Yoongi once said in one of his vlives about how haters can write all they want, he won’t read it while they will get sued.

[felswritingfire]

April Brain Rot #5

Prompts:

4. Adapt

(Detroit Become Human AU) Jack Howl x Reader

Summery: Jack turns deviant and murders your abusive father, now you're on the run, searching for a better future (and you meet some friends along the way).

TW: Violence; Blood; Broken bones mentioned; Mentions of abuse; Death (not reader or Jack); Emotional panic; Running away; Slight angst

Word count: 1,572

A note from Fel: I went feral when my last braincells decided to rub together and come up with this tbh (my girlfriend is my witness, I love her so much ;0;). I hope you enjoy! Because I had way too much fun writing this!

He had been a protector. He was doing what he was made to do. So why? Why did he feel like his circuits were about to overload when he stared at the mess of blood and fragmented bone that covered his closed fist. His ears flicked back at the sound of your labored breathing. Jack looked over his shoulder to see you leaning on your hands and arched legs trembling, the bloody nose and black eye with the dribble of blood leaking out the corner of your lips made him want to rip this man to shreds even more so than he had just done to him. He said the one thing that came to mind: “are you alright?”

The light on the side of his head blinked a yellow as your eyes drifted up to him. He waited for you, praying (an android praying- what a funny thought. Probably a malfunction of some sort) that you wouldn’t leave him. But, instead you looked at the bloodied face that was once your father and back to him before nodding your head slowly. “Y- yeah.”

“Are you positive? Your heart rate is still incredibly high.”

You nod again. “Yeah, Jack, I’ll… I’ll be ok.”

His eyes narrowed at you before he nodded and went to you, slow in his steps and gentle in the way he reached out to you. His ears flicked back at the sight of the blood smearing on your already bloodied clothes, drawing back for a moment. “May I pick you up?”

Your gaze grows watery the longer you look at him. A part of him fighting the urge to… panic? He wasn’t sure but the sense of distress was climbing in the back of his processor. “Please?” Your voice sounds so small as you hold your arms up to him like a child.

The android nods. He hooks his hands under your knees and your back, cradling you close to his chest.

The realization of what happened and what is going to happen weighs in his mind. He’d be considered a deviant for killing a man- an abusive man, but nonetheless he was human. He may end up adding to the end of the J-192 line that was slowly building against him already. He may have been a special edition android and one of a kind- but that doesn’t change what he’s done. And worst of all: he ripped your future straight from your hands (he can feel his chest cavity tighten at the thought, maybe he really needed repairs or he was more deviant than he thought he was).

Everything you worked so hard for- to escape you father by your own devices- and he’d gone and ruined it by snapping when that man had struck you far too many times in front of him. His processor is fuzzy on the details but he remembers how his sharp ears pick up on the sounds of bones caving in on themselves and wet squelch of blood beneath his fist.

As he went deeper into Detroit's streets he caught sight of a fire hydrant that was leaking water. He stopped by it, placing you gently on your feet before running his hands under it, the water turning pink as the blood ran down with it. He cupped his hands, pooling some water in his hands before gesturing with his head to lean down. You did, wincing when you moved too fast, he whined at you. “I’m ok, big guy.”

He nodded before gently splashing the water on your face, wiping the flaking blood off of your skin. His eyes sting with a wetness that he can’t quite place as he thinks (ha- what a funny word to pair with an android): this is how he repays you. After everything you’ve done for him: watching over him when you father had bought him; sharing your hobbies with him no matter if he didn’t understand; always talking with him despite him telling you that you didn’t have to; staying by his side as he began to act… strange: feeling his chest warm when he saw you, the way his face would flush if you got too close to him. He began to feel human and you were helping him learn how to be.

“I’m sorry.” He says suddenly as he pats your face with the bottom of his shirt.

“Why?”

“I should have never asked to kiss you, then you-” he felt himself shudder- “you would have never had to experience that.”

“Jack,” you whisper, resting your hands against his face. “If you asked me- I would do it all over again.”

Jack blinked, his light flickering between a yellow and a red. “... Why?”

“Why did you do what you did?”

“I didn’t want him hurting you! I-I…” he trailed off. Why did he do what he did? He had felt an awful rage build under his skin when he had been witness to it before- but he had never disobeyed the command to stay. That wasn’t supposed to be in his programming. But he had felt something so profound- so molten hot in his chest that he had to protect you because- because- “I would die without you.”

You smile, pressing your palm against his trembling chest. “And I’d die without you.”

He pulls you into a hug, holding the back of your head as he presses his nose against your hair. He can do this. He can do this if you’re by his side.

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

It had been a long time of ducking into abandoned buildings and shoplifting food (though Jack wasn’t too thrilled about that- you had learned that he was rather firm on the laws if stealing wasn’t a necessity to you two) but you had stayed together through it all. You had even found two more deviants: Leona and Ruggie.

They had decided to join you two after they almost mugged you and you had hit Leona with a pipe that didn’t do much to the android. He laughed and laughed after that, having to hunch over at how hard he was laughing. Ruggie began to join in and now you were stuck with the two of them as you and Jack made your way out of the city. Jack was quite snippy with them at first, always glowering at the two and barring his fangs when they got too close. Ruggie had come to find this as a sort of game, throwing a casual arm over your shoulder as you talked or pressing his face against yours while explaining that he used to be a ‘nanny droid’ (as he liked to put it). Jack would press between you two, glowering down at the hyena android who just laughed his funny little laugh as he slinked away.

Leona had simply found it as a perfect opportunity to mess with the wolf as he would press his fingers against the back of your neck or would rest his chin on your head when you were busy counting your supplies. Jack would growl at him, shoving against him to take his place of standing behind you.

Though, he grew a profound respect for Leona when he let it slip that he used to be a bodyguard. “Had to watch this annoying brat. It was awful, he never let me rest.” (he might say that, but on more than one occasion, you would catch Leona fiddling with a necklace with a blue feather hanging under the silver circle that served as it’s pendant). And Ruggie simply grew on him- no one being able to resist his lazy eyes for long.

Though now, Jack was happy as he stacks the last of the bags of soil on top of each other in the corner of your store, basking in all the plants that lined the shelves in neat little rows on shelves. You had scraped the money to buy a building, get a business permit and open up a little plant shop in Toronto, Canada through some odd jobs and a collective effort from each of them.

He watched you chatter to some women, never seeing you smile so wide in the time he’s been alive. He pulls at the sides of his beanie, glancing at Ruggie through the crack in the door to the back whose tail wags gently as he tends to the budding plants, Leona sleeping (well, “sleeping”) on the hammock that you had put up for him with the flowers in the back.

He looks back to the little cacti he stood next to, a familiar warmth blooming in his gut. The orange rays of the setting sun illuminates the curve of your face as you go and walk the lady out (who happily holds her lilies and poppies in her arms) and wave to her as she leaves before closing the door and flipping the ‘open’ sign to ‘close’. You sigh before you turn to find Jack looking at you with a smile on his face as he stares at you. You walk to him and grab his hands and rest your head against his chest. “We did good.” You murmur.

He nods. “We did.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

A chorus of over exaggerated gagging brings you and Jack you of the moment and you laugh as Jack turns and yells at a grinning Ruggie and a scowling Leona to: “shut up!”.

<The Next Chosen Character>

Thank you for reading!

[snuggetfish]

Majidad family headcanons..? 🥺👉👈

Say no more 💖 This is LONG so I've put it under the cut!

First off, how many children would Majima want? Frankly, the man’s so happy to be given the chance at fatherhood in the first place that even just one would send him over the moon... but he wouldn’t say no to more. He’s paid enough visits to Kiryu to feel that twinge in his heart, hearing the echo of so many cheery voices around the orphanage. 

So, if it at all possible, he’d love to see his dream about having his own little cuddle puddle of kids become a reality. He’ll maybe slightly underestimate how difficult it’d be to take care of them all, but he’s Majima Goro, moulded by fate to be one tenacious bastard. He’ll pull through, somehow, with the help of a loving partner willing to go the distance with him. However, if he did only have one kid, you can bet they’d be spoiled absolutely rotten. You might think that the roles of good cop/bad cop would be obvious in a crazy yakuza dad+presumably civilian spouse couple, but think again, because Majima is a complete pushover when faced with cute puppy eyes. 

Extra serving of ice cream after dinner? He'll pile gigantic scoops into his bowl and then give up not even halfway through, sliding it towards his child. He can't really wink, but they get the picture. “Who in ever is gonna finish this for me?” Five minutes more at the park? Sure thing, they can have the whole hour and maybe Kiryu-chan might show up in the meantime too so they can... schedule their next fight. No throwing down in front of the kid! I think also once Majima becomes a dad, his priorities shift. Slightly, but noticeably. He still upholds his vicious reputation, but he isn't living at the edge any more, fighting through each day like it's his last, defusing bombs with little regard for safety. If surviving up until now was luck more than anything, with a child in his life, he's going to make damn sure it becomes a certainty. He's got something so very precious to stay alive for.

When they're still very young, Majima would be a great help in comforting them during the night. He typically gets back at late hours anyway and relishes the chance to spend a bit of time with his child, instead of immediately collapsing into a restless sleep like he always used to. If they're awake or crying he'll comfort them as best as he can, even with his whispered voice now hoarser than he remembers it and no knowledge of lullabies... but hey, pop songs will do too. 24h Cinderella anyone? Though if they're sound asleep, he'll stick to just holding their tiny hand for a while, feel it clasp gently around his fingers... 

First things first, the gloves come off, always. "Skinship" is a Japanese word put together from English that I think is great for describing the kind of parent-child intimacy he'd want. On mornings where can afford to sleep in, it wouldn't be uncommon for his spouse to find him on the couch, dozing on and off with the baby nestled on his chest. He's afraid of falling fully asleep and missing the tenderness of the moment, plus his nightmares are not something he'd ever want his child to know... So he'll stay like that, stroking their back and peeking through a lidded eye at his partner who's busy making breakfast. Also on this topic, an idea that occurred to me recently: you know how Majima's tattoo has one of the snakes' heads on the left side of his chest? Well... call him superstitious, but he'd only hold the baby on the right side. Can't have it threatening his sweet pea. 🥺️

What about once they get older? Well probably Majima would start waking up with unexpected “extensions” made this his tattoo, in black marker. Possibly some scribbles on his eye patch as well, which he’ll still proudly wear to work. And if you know what’s good for you, you really don’t want to be the one making fun of a Mad Dog that’s sporting a little heart doodle on his face. Kisses? Yes, absolutely. As we learn from Dead Souls, Majima would not shy away from smooching his child. A “good night” kiss, a “good morning” kiss, a “have a nice day” kiss when they’re off to school. One day the kid complains that his beard’s too scratchy and Majima doesn’t even think twice before he goes back to being clean-shaven. 

I think at some point they would also have to be introduced to the domain they're going to be ruling (though only as children!): the Majima Family. Nishida would be promoted to “designated driver", for a kid all too eager to ride on someone's shoulders while daddy's away in a meeting and the Kamurocho Hills construction site would be getting a new foreman. Their duties would include drawing on the blueprints and shouting words of "encouragement" at the men through dad's loudspeaker, whenever he needs a break. Bet Majima even gets them a little hard hat and everything, custom-made! Ok so it also doesn't take long for them to figure out a fun game to play with the new family members, a hazing ritual basically: show up on the day of their first office duty and annoy the hell out of them. Men were nervous to begin with, but now they're confused and pissed, like who the hell is this brat and who let them in? Kid plays the silent card: doesn't say a word about their name or their dad's, just keeps running around and getting in their business. 

After chasing a lightning-fast kid all around the whole office, Majima comes in and they think they're saved. Surely the boss has 0 tolerance for little intruders.... Though, of course, the intruder immediately runs to daddy and it slowly... very slowly dawns on them. Kid’s grinning from behind a leather-clad leg and the poor newbies have gone white in the face mentally counting how many fingers they're gonna have to give up. But it’s all fun and games... mostly. Of course a Majima descendant would inherit his mischievous nature.

But hey at some point, uncle Saejima comes back. Though Majima’s maybe a little reluctant at first, eventually he can’t but see the value of his kid training with his kyodai in the dojo. For self-defense, but also to develop their athleticism. Saejima’s of course happy to spend time with his niece or nephew, though... you know how in Y4 one of dojo's mechanics is that the students can just skip your lessons if they're not feeling motivated enough? Majima’s munchkin would absolutely do that. Slide underneath the big tiger’s legs and make a run for it! 

I think Majima would find it terribly endearing if the child at some point started dropping Kansai words here and there. And that’s in spite of Saejima chiding him that his own accent is fake and that the kid probably picked it up from the “real source”, a.k.a Saejima himself. Heh, dad and uncle might bicker sometimes, but they both make it clear just how much they love the little one.

Now, raising a child as a high-profile yakuza is obviously not going to be all rainbows and sunshine... I think Majima would love nothing more than to indulge in the cozy fantasy of being an ideal father, spending all his waking moments playing with his kid, putting his energy and creativity to good use, just generally making sure his son or daughter get the best childhood he's never had... but it's a fantasy for a reason, because he's grounded enough in reality to know that it's not going to work out as idyllically as that. 

He's fulfilled his and Saejima's dream of climbing the yakuza ranks, although it's come at the cost of being a notorious figure, with scars both external and internal. How is he going to protect his family? How much time is he really going to be able to dedicate to his kids? How is he going to keep them from walking the same dark path he has? Not a day passes where he doesn’t ask himself all those questions... doubly so on nights where he comes home to find that they’ve wiggled in his bed as well, cozy and safe in his partner’s arms. And it hits him that they’ve already grown up so much and he fears he’s missed out on so much, on making a positive impact in their life...

Ultimately, I don’t believe Majima would want his kids to grow up involved in the yakuza. Yet at the same time he can’t entirely hide his career. Maybe that’s a good thing because it teaches him that it's never as black and white as "if I leave, they'll be safe; if I stay, they'll die". One can raise a child to be strong and, above all, make their own decisions and carve their own path, even as a dad who's for all intents and purposes a criminal. The yakuza are, after all, a fact of everyday living, hidden in plain sight, given how pervasive they are in business and politics. A kid that's seen the flip side of the coin (within reason, because you bet Majima would still be fiercely protective of them) would surely be well equipped for life. It’s what he hopes, at least. If I thought the last ask was long...oh boy. I’d like to deeply thank all my friends off whom I’ve been bouncing these privately ideas for months now!! 💙💙💙 I didn’t think there’d be much interest in Majidad headcanons, but I’m happy to have been proven wrong!

[1tsnoya]

HI love can you do a HC where the reader is in like a 'team slumber party" w the whole Karasuno vbc bc hONESTLY my heart is so soft for that idea like they're all jus vibing 😭😭 love my babies so much

IMPORTANT | a/n: i believe that i’m shadowbanned so my message history disappeared and my posts will probs slack for a bit >:( pls don’t mind </3 super sorry babes ! hopefully it gets resolved soon

✧･ﾟkarasuno sleepover✧･ﾟ headcanons

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

↳ it was like 2 in the morning and the gc with the volleyball club was blowing up

↳ everyone was awake and it was just CHAOS

↳ so it made you wonder — wtf would a giant sleepover with us all be like

↳ so u asked just that in the gc

↳ the responses were...

tsuki: no way

yams: cmon it’d be so much fun!!

kageyama: sure

hinata: LETS DO IT

noya: FUCK IT UPPP

tanaka: YUH GET INTO IT

daichi: sounds interesting

tsuki: fine

suga: i’m down!

asahi: me too!

yachi: i’m scared

kiyoko: it’ll be fine yachi

↳ so it was scheduled for friday night at 6pm

↳ and when everyone got there WOW it was so loud there was so much going on

↳ everyone finally calmed down when pizza was ordered hksksjhs

↳ a debate about pineapple on pizza went down

↳ HUGE SUPER MARIO PARTY GAME HOLY SHIT

↳ there were 12 of you (including yourself) and max was 8 players so kiyoko, yachi, asahi, and tanaka sat out

↳ tanaka was yelling at noya and hyping him up though and so was asahi at suga

↳ hinata picked diddy, kageyama picked the goomba, tsuki picked bowser jr, yamaguchi picked shy guy, suga picked yoshi, daichi picked donkey kong HSHSJJSH, and noya picked wario obvi

↳ so. much. SCREAMING

↳ tanaka: “NOYA OHMY- dont fuck this up you need to roll 4- LETS GO BABY LETS GET A-”

↳ he rolled a 4 pure luck and him and tanaka started running around screaming “LETS GOOOOO”

↳ tsuki: “you have 0 stars”

↳ noya: “wtf i’m still gonna win-”

↳ daichi was clueless at first but then really started getting into it

↳ suga was hyping everyone up but was super determined to win

↳ kageyama had the WORST luck. he could have sworn that the game was against him

↳ hinata made fun of him HAA

↳ SUPER CLOSE GAME BETWEEN SUGA AND TSUKISHIMA

↳ tsuki won are u fr?

↳ after another round, tanaka and noya suggested spin the bottle

↳ sigh

↳ they obviously were hoping to kiss kiyoko

↳ she played ONE round. ONE

↳ landed on yachi ofc<3

↳ SO MUCH YELLING WHEN IT WAS JUST A QUICK AND SMALL PECK BETWEEN THEM

↳ yachi was so nervous it was hilarious

↳ OH AND THEN IT LANDED ON TSUKISHIMA AND YAMAGUCHI

↳ tsuki did it like it was NOTHING

↳ cue the screaming. again

↳ after a few more turns, it started getting late so asahi took some uno cards out of his bag

↳ everybody changed into their jammies and sat in a circle

↳ hinata was wearing some old tee from grammar school as his pj shirt and the first and second years FLAMED him

↳ anyways. uno game. right

↳ tell me why daichi got the worst cards every turn

↳ hinata was peeking at other people’s cards

↳ kageyama was pissed off by how many cards he kept having to pick up

↳ so. many. plus 4 cards. from suga

↳ but ohohoh he got some karma

↳ yamaguchi placed down a +4 to give to yachi (he picked it up and was s o s o r r y) then she placed another one down to give to hinata, THEN HE PLACED ANOTHER +4 AND LASTLY TANAKA ADDED 4 AND GAVE IT TO SUGA

↳ 16 fucking cards- he was scared

↳ yamaguchi won <3

↳ and then asahi whipped out another game

↳ family feud....

↳ you can already tell how bad this is gonna get

↳ team #1 consisted of: hinata, kageyama, daichi, yachi, nishinoya

↳ team #2: tsukishima, asahi, suga, kiyoko, tanaka

↳ yamaguchi wanted to be the steve harvey of the night so you helped him keep track of points

↳ in the gc, asahi texted a msg for someone to bring a button

↳ tanaka brought a “nut” one 💀

↳ you placed it in the middle of the table. boom. what could go wrong?

↳ round one began...

↳ tanaka vs daichi

↳ yams: “name something you find sand in after a day at the beach”

↳ the fucking button SLAMMED AGAINST THAT TABLE AND SOUNDED LIKE IT WAS GOING TO BREAK

↳ tanaka: “MY ASS-”

↳ the GIGGLING THAT ESCAPED EVERYONE’S MOUTHS-

↳ daichi was just “:O um. my turn-or?”

↳ noya: did he get the point?

↳ kageyama: he is on the OTHER TEAM

↳ hinata: i guess but it was a good answer..

↳ i’m pretty sure you can already guess what team won

↳ a few more rounds were played and it was like midnight so you put a movie on

↳ tanaka noya and hinata sat in the front, laughing at every single thing going on

↳ kageyama: “hinata if u don’t shut ur FUCKING MOUTH”

↳ yamaguchi: “can you raise the volume?”

↳ tsukishima: “no they just need to shut the fuck up before i go over there and-”

↳ a pillow was thrown...

↳ shit went down..

↳ asahi: “come on guys let’s just watch the movie”

↳ daichi threw a pillow at him

↳ cue the surprised pikachu face @ daichi

↳ yachi was sCared

↳ so her, kiyoko, and you snuck off to the bathroom while chaos erupted between the boys

↳ kiyoko: “okay when they all fall asleep, i want to mess with them”

↳ yachi: “are you sure that they won’t kill us-?”

↳ OHOHOHO a plan was devised

↳ you three waited until the screaming died down a bit and then walked out

↳ feathers everywhere, uno cards all over the floor, and the nut button was smashed...

↳ wtf happened you left to the bathroom for like 6 minutes-

↳ “ummm...”

↳ “so...”

↳ “bed..time?”

↳ it was 1:30 in the morning and i’m sure you can already tell who was wide awake

↳ daichi, kageyama, asahi, yamaguchi, and tsukishima were trying to get ready to sleep

↳ you and the girls were trying to stay awake for your little plan

↳ hinata, noya, tanaka, and suga were just... wired

↳ yeah did suga surprise u? nope not me. that boy is chaotic at sleepovers don’t @ me

↳ they set up a smash game (while the others were sleeping) so tsuki woke back up to beat everyones ass-

↳ it started getting loud until daichi got up like - “shut✨the fuck✨up✨”

↳ so everyone quieted down HSJSHS

↳ you joined in on the game and teams were formed

↳ you and tsuki vs hinata, noya, and suga

↳ tsuki: “just pls don’t fuck this up-”

↳ you and him won😫obvi

↳ at the end when it was only tsuki and suga, he kept RUNNING AWAY FROM HIM

↳ suga was just — :p u cant catch me

↳ and when he did.. yikes..

↳ everyone eventually fell asleep

↳ except you, kiyoko, and yachi

↳ kageyama grumbles in his sleep, daichi sleeps like a serial killer, suga was just-he looked like an angel, asahi was lowkey breathing loud, noya and tanaka were SPOONING, hinata kicks in his sleep, tsuki sleeps with his headphones in?? and yamaguchi turns around every second

↳ it was time for the plan nehehehe

↳ kiyoko put makeup on kageyama, tanaka, and asahi

↳ yachi started doodling on daichi’s, noya’s, and yamaguchi’s faces

↳ you put an alarm set to go off in the morning and blast ‘deepthroat’ by cupcakke on tsuki’s phone ***yes he still had his headphones in

↳ and you all put some creepy clown doll right next to hinata’s face so that it could be the first thing he wakes up to

↳ next thing you know it’s 7AM and all you hear is “hUMPME FUCK ME-”

↳ tsuki was the first one awake and was already grumpy

↳ he thought that it was noya and tanaka’s idea to mess with him so he like shoved them awake

↳ “cupcakke? really?” and then he stopped to look at their faces

↳ yachi drew some fucked up shit on noya’s face and tanaka was wearing red lipstick with pink eyeshadow

↳ “it’s too early for this...” HE LEFT TO THE BATHROOM LMFAO

↳ oh god and then everyone woke up

↳ you and the girls were fake sleeping and listening to it all go down

↳ breakfast was.. interesting

↳ hinata was traumatized from that clown incident (he scream sounded like it came from his little sister) the boys were trying to rub off their makeup and it was smudged all over their faces, and the other boys were just ... trying to ignore the drawings on them

↳ ofc yachi drew a mustache on daichi

↳ oh and noya was trying to play the drawings off as tattoos😔

↳ you don’t even wanna know about breakfast-

↳ everyone agreed on pancakes and well...

↳ batter was everywhere and the smoke detector went off

[2ndstar-ontheright]

Little Tim Drake’s No Good Day

Fandom: Batman 

Characters: Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne (Batman)

Words: 1059

Summary: “I was wonderin if you could write a lil fanfic with a baby regressor Tim Drake - like ages 0-3! - having a tantrum cause of stress and Bruce, like the good dad he is, helps him calm down n stuff!” -Requested by:  WonderingLullaby. I hope you like it! Also I’m sorry if it’s kind of cliche and cheesy, but that’s what makes it so wholesome am I right?

Friday evening couldn’t come any sooner for Tim Drake. What with school, helping Mr. Wayne fighting crime, and trying to keep himself out of harm's way, it would’ve been shocking if he weren’t as stressed as he is now. He barely got any sleep last night and got in trouble for falling asleep in class. So you could say he wasn’t in a great mood. As he continued to walk home, he could feel himself getting smaller and smaller. “Oh wow! How convenient Tim!” He snarked. (Which I mean, it kind of is since you’re almost home already Tim!)

He continued on his way home until he saw Wayne Manor. Walking up the front steps, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. He could finally take a break! A little one to be exact! All he had to do was get past Mr. Wayne and things would be a-okay. It wasn’t that he didn't approve of his age regression, rather it was because he didn’t want someone he idolized to see him in such a small state. “I don’t want to bother him anyway, He’s busy.” He said going up to his room. 

Shutting the door, he walked towards his bed and slumped off his backpack. Going over to his closet he picked out a little outfit which was: a bat hoodie and a pair of baby blue stretchy shorts. He crawled back towards his bed with his box labeled “Tiny Tim Things”. After what seemed like forever to little Tim, he was finally ready to be little. But, when he tried he remembered that he had science homework to finish. Getting grumpy, he bunched up his blanket in his fists. “Why did Miss Swamp have to give us homework on a friday? That’s so mean!” He asked. Sighing, he got his homework out and sat at his desk to finish. Before long 2 hours had past and Mr. Wayne was calling him for dinner. Still in a sour mood he set his work aside and walked downstairs. 

Bruce had been working in his office on a new hotel design. The hotel would only have 3 floors and instead of a pool it would have a drawing room that would display the works of his favorite artists. Such as: Georges Saurat, Lee Stan, Kane Bob, Rembrandt, and Frida Kahlo. He was snapped out of his work when he heard his son, Tim, come home. Walking out of his office, he hoped to catch a glimpse of him before he retreated up to his room. Hearing his footsteps go up the stairs, he was too late. He sighed, shrugged it off, and went into the kitchen to make dinner. 

He had taken notice of how stressful the past few weeks have been for Tim, so he decided to make his favorite, lasagne. After 2 long hours of cooking, dinner was ready. “Tim! Dinner’s ready!” He called. 

“I made your favorite. Lasagna!” Bruce said, bringing the dish to the table. “Can you set the table for me, Tim?” Tim nodded and walked into the kitchen to get the flatware. Once he got the plates and the silverware out he walked back to the table. 

As the 2 of them began to eat, Tim felt himself getting more upset. Bruce took note of the fact that he hadn’t eaten anything and chose this moment to see what was bothering him.  “Tim, are you okay”? Tim shook his head. “Oh. What’s wrong buddy?” “Nothing.” “Tim, c’mon talk to me. What’s wrong?” Bruce said sternly. “I SAID NOTHING!” Tim yelled, pushing his plate onto the floor. He tried to run off, but slipped and fell onto the floor. Lasagna all over him. His eyes filled with hot tears and knowing that his dad would be furious, he started crying.

Bruce looked at his son in shock, he hadn’t seen him like this in a while. “I guess things were a lot more than they seemed” he thought. Tim’s sobs filled the silence as Bruce’s heat broke. Suddenly, it hit him like a batarang to the Joker’s henchmen, “He hasn’t regressed to help with his stress until now. That explains the tantrum” He realized. Standing up, he walked over to the boy to try and calm him down.  

“Tim, you know that it’s not okay to throw things and yell at people. Especially me, right? ” Bruce said, putting a hand on Tim’s shoulder. Tim looked up at him and sniffled, “ Yeah, I know. ‘M sorry papa!” “It’s okay kiddo. But next time something’s bothering you, talk to me about it and we’ll work it out! Don’t keep it inside until you explode and get upset, okay? You’re not a volcano!” Bruce joked, wiping his tears away. “Yeah. Vo’canos are scary!” Tim giggled. “Yeah” Bruce laughed, “Now you know how it feels for me when I see you get upset like that. It feels pretty scary,” He said seriously. “M’ sorry Papa, I don’ wan’ you to be a’scared” Tim replied. “This kid” Bruce thought, “How did I get a kid who’s so sweet?” “It’s okay buddy. I’m not scared, I’m just glad you’re okay. Now, I believe it’s time for a little robin to get a bath” He said smirking at the end. “Nooo! No bathtime!” Tim said laughing. 

Later that night, after Tim, his clothes, and the mess had all been cleaned, Bruce walked back upstairs to say good night. Tim had been the same as he left him, in his pajamas with his stuffed dog in one hand and his bottle in the other. Bruce smiled at the scene as he saw him trying to read a book, “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No-good, Very Bad Day” to be exact. He chuckled and rolled his eyes at the irony. 

“Papa! Can you read a story, please?” Tim asked, holding the book out to him. “Of course buddy,” he said, taking the book. “I went to sleep with gum in my mouth and now there’s gum in my hair...'' Bruce began. Before long, Tim fell asleep to the story. He closed the book and placed it and the bottle onto the nightstand. He tucked Tim in and kissed his forehead before leaving the room. “Good night little one” He whispered before going to bed himself. And the Bat family fell asleep peacefully under the moon’s watchful eye.

[uwuwriting]

The writings on his skin Shinsou Soulmate au

Soulmate au with communication via writing on their skin.

Oh god this is bad, I’m not happy with it at all. My original draft got deleted and I had to rewrite this at 2 am and I’m dead. I didn’t proof read it because I swear I’m gonna pass out so I’m so terribly sorry for butchering this. I love Hitoshi to the moon and back I hope he has the most wonderful birthday I LOVE HIM. Hope this doesn’t suck that much. Love ya. 💖💖💖💖💖

Rules 

warnings: mentions of bullying, some angst, fluff

When Hitoshi was young he used to believe in soulmates. He couldn’t wait to meet the person that would fit him like a puzzle piece. In the early age of five, Shinsou Hitoshi was filled with positivity and hope. Hope that in the future he would get to enjoy all the things he liked with someone special. 

He was so excited for the first day of school. some of the kids from his neighborhood would be in his class; they didn’t like him they were really afraid of his quirk and would make fun of him all the time, but he didn’t care. He would make new friends and just ignore them. Stepping into the classroom he was met with about 18 new faces. 18 possible friends. A smile spread across his face as he made eye contact with one of the kids. The boy was playing with some LEGOs as Hitoshi made his way to him. 

“Hi I’m Shin-”

“AHH IT’S THE MONSTER!!!” the boy cried out as he stumbled backwards putting a respectful distance between them. The whole class turned to look at them and one by one all the kids slowly took a step back. They were all afraid of him. They all wanted nothing to do with him. They-they.

“He’s a villain!!!”

“Someone call All Might!!!!” 

More children joined the mocking and the cries for help. A group of boys, two of which he knew, walked up to him growls leaving their mouths as -even though Hitoshi was a tall child- they towered over him. Pushing him to the ground, one of them snatched his backpack emptying the contents on him before throwing it at a corner of the room. 

“Villains are not allowed here! Jihiko-sensei will kick you out, villain!” Right on cue, Jihiko-sensei stepped into the room, her eyes landing immediately at his wide eyed face and trembling form. 

“Boys that’s rude!” grabbing his backpack she started putting back his scattered supplies.“Apologise to Shinsou right now!”

Reluctantly the four boys bowed their heads, mumbling an apology before rising their noses up in the air and walking away, leaving a terrified Hitoshi on the floor. 

During the first day of school he knew that he wouldn’t be getting new friends and with that his doubts of even having a soulmate bloomed to life. 

Middle school was not as bad as elementary. He had gotten used to the teasing and the name calling. He couldn’t say that it didn’t bother him; it really did but he had learned not to show it. Even now, years after that fateful first day in kindergarten, he had no friends. All of them pushed him away, some more politely than others, leaving the word ‘villain’ lumming over their heads as they turned him down. He was fine though. No soulmate mark had appeared but at this point he couldn’t really be disappointed. After all, someone like him -a monster, a villain- didn’t deserve to have a soulmate.

It was a normal day in his boring middle school. So boring that Hitoshi had turned to doodling on his arm. It was not a habit, he hadn’t done it before since he saw the doodles as tattoos and he didn’t want to give others more reasons to call him evil. Plus he liked his arms clean. But he was bored and it was hot and he wasn’t functioning correctly. At some point during his history class, he fell asleep. He woke up to a light tickling sensation running up his arm and a dim shine appeared on a spot near his wrist. 

‘You can’t draw….’ 

He blinked once, twice expecting the words to disappear but they didn’t. They didn’t fade, they were real. Bold black letters stared back at him as he marveled at the sight. He … he had a soulmate and he could actually speak to them. Snapping out of his trance he scrambled for a pen and thought of a response. He didn’t wanna seem desperate. Deciding on sarcasm he wrote beside their own message. 

‘Well excuse me Picasso’

 He waited for a response for what felt like centuries. This was amazing, incredible, astonishing all of those long pretty words writers use to describe their female characters in poems. Would they want to meet him? Did they live nearby? Were they the same age? So many questions swirled inside his head he almost missed the mandala pattern that appeared on his wrist. The design became more vibrant and visible as the minutes ticked by. It was beautiful. 

‘What’s your favorite color?’

‘Purple….why?’

‘Be patient sweet soulmate of mine, you’ll see.’ 

His heart skipped a beat. Oh lord he hadn’t even met them yet and he was already getting butterflies in his stomach. Slowly purple highlights started to appear on his skin, matching the black outlines perfectly. They truly were a Picasso. 

‘There now you have true art on your hand.’

‘Confident are we?’

‘Only when it comes to inter-soulmate communications.’ 

He liked them. He knew that from the first moment. A smile took its place on his face as he saw new letters forming on his skin, warmth blooming in his chest as he stared at their conversation. Soulmate...maybe he wasn’t so lonely after all. 

UA High. This is it. He was finally here. A place where heroes were made. It’s his time to show all those pesky brats that called him a villain that he could be a hero. A fine one at that. Getting placed in the general department was a disappointment and kind of a let down. He thought he did well on the exam. Apparently, having a grape quirk was more hero material than his brainwash. He wasn’t fazed though and neither was his soulmate. They hadn’t stopped speaking since their first conversation back in middle school. His day would start with a small, sloppy good morning scribbled on his wrist. They were there for him whenever he needed someone to rant to and he was always their shoulder to cry on. Well inky shoulder? They had agreed to keep their identities a secret along with their gender leaving everything to the hands of fate. 

‘She shall bring us together, babe.’ They always called him that, not that he minded. 

‘Well she should hurry up kitten.’ And he in return he given them that pet name. They never complained. He hadn’t mentioned which school he applied to, only that he would be becoming a hero. So when they mentioned something about a Bakugou Katsuki he was intrigued. 

‘Yeah he is in my class. Super annoying 0/10 would not recommend.’

 They went to the same school. What a coincidence. Maybe fate did work fast. Choosing his next words wisely he replied. 

‘So you are in class 1-A huh? Funny.’

‘How do you know that?????’

‘I’m in the general department that’s why.’

There was no response for some time. He knew Aizawa was a harsh teacher when it came to discipline, he gets a taste of his discipline every afternoon at six,  so he didn’t write anything else. Later that day, during his training, the familiar tingle distracted him. Glancing down on his arm, he totally missed Aizawa’s capture tool coming straight for his leg. Before he knew it, he was swiped off his feet and started hanging upside down from a branch of a nearby tree. 

“You are distracted Shinsou!” Aizawa sighed below him. Hitoshi read the message quickly before turning his attention back to his teacher. 

“I’m sorry Aizawa-sensei.” 

“Yeah yeah just don’t be like that during your training with my class. You remember that it starts tomorrow right?” Aizawa said as he got him down, letting him fall with a loud thud. 

“Yes sensei I know.”

“Great, now go get some rest I don’t want you passing out the moment you step in the forest.” 

Shinsou had never gathered his things quicker. Draping his jacket over his shoulders he sprinted to his dorm, an idea forming in his mind. He didn’t know if you wanted to meet him yet but he sure as hell wanted to see you. Grabbing a pen from his desk he scribbled under your previous message. 

‘Can you draw one of your mandalas on my wrist?’ 

Y/N was late. Like super late. She had missed her first alarm and had only gotten up because of the pounding at her door. She had stayed up the previous night drawing something for her soulmate. She kept messing up and redoing her work one too many times. Reaching her classroom she slid the door open and tiptoed to her seat seeing as Aizawa-sensei hadn’t gotten out of his sleeping back yet. Sitting down she let out a sigh of relief as her friend leaned over to her. 

“Late night with your soulmate???” She sang teasingly which only made Y/N roll her eyes. 

“Shut up Sky!” Soon they were instructed to put on their hero costumes and meet their homeroom teacher at the edge of the mini forest right in the outskirts of the school grounds. 

Skipping out of the girls locker room she looked down at her wrist where the mandala from last night looked back at her. She ran her fingers over the lines wishing she could see the design on the recipients skin.  

“Come on man! We’re gonna miss the intro move your ass!” Sky grabbed her arm and yanked her forward, ruining her moment of longing as they made their way to the forest. 

Aizawa-sensei was accompanied by another person. A boy almost at his height with vibrant purple hair and the most tired eyes Y/N had ever seen. He was staring at the class giving small nods when someone asked him something. 

“This is Shinsou Hitoshi. Most of you will know him from the sports festival, he fought the problem child.” Midoriya hid his face in his palms at the name. “He will be joining the hero course come next year so have fun training with him.”

Shinsou raised his hand to scratch his neck, a nervous habit Y/N concluded, when she saw the intertwining lines on his wrist. The purple stood out. It was more vibrant on her design, slightly losing it’s shine on his pale skin possibly because he received it. Was that? Was he? 

“Who wants to pair up with him?” at that her arm shot up instantly, without even thinking. Aizawa motioned for the rest of the students to find their partner as she made her way to him. He was taller up close, her head barely reaching his chin. Extending her drawn on hand she greeted him. 

“Y/N L/N, nice to finally meet you Shinsou.”

Bonus:

The house was quiet. Oddly quiet. Hitoshi let his bag drop next to the coat hanger as he took off his shoes. The TV could be heard playing from the living room but no voices accompanied it. Where was she? Making his way to the kitchen he found a bowl full with steaming soup that looked like it had just been made. He left it on the table, his first priority being to find the girl he was looking for. Slowly walking up the stair he heard a humming coming from the room down the hall. 

Once at the top he made his way to the pastel violet door, grasping the knob and pushing it open. He was met with the back of his soulmate, humming the soft tune he had heard earlier as she rocked steadily back and forth. The mess of purple hair on her shoulder raised its head revealing those stunning e/c eyes he adored so much. 

“Daddy…” the little girl in Y/N’s arms let out a low sleepy mumble. Turning around she saw her husband standing in the doorway of the nursery, a smile adorning his face as he looked at Kei. Kei, at the sight of her father, started doing grabbing motions trying to leave her mother’s embrace. Hitoshi let out a low chuckle as he took the two year old in his arms, letting her wrap her chubby arms around his neck and nuzzle into his neck. 

“Happy birthday Toshi.”

Shinsou Hitoshi could have never imagined he would be here today, holding his daughter as his soulmate stared back at him. He was happy, beyond happy actually. Words could not express. Extending an arm out to her, she took it tucking herself under his chin as one of her hands came to rest on the back of her baby. Kissing both of his girls, he squeezed them closer to him.  

 “Thank you kitten. For everything.”   

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan​ @the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​ @axerrri​ @reinyrei​

[ivyglow]

More than friends | Carter Hart

A/n: Sooo, I was supposed to be done with this piece before our win last night, but my laptop keeps stopping, and the new one only arrives this week, in the meantime I’m stuck with this one and taking longer than ever to write the requests. Anyway, thank you for the patience, and if you want to support my writing, you can always like, reblog and share my posts with a friend you think might like it.

Shout out to Tori for the amazing job proofreading this piece. You’re the best, @guentzgoal​

PS. The songs mentioned in this chapter are Hozier (work song) and Ed Sheeran (friends). 

Requested: Yes

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mention of Friday’s mess aka 5-0 against the Canadiens. 

Summary: You’re the media management to the Philadelphia Flyers, and during the bubble time, you get closer to Carter being the person he runs to after the terrible game that day. You two finally realize something more developed between the friendship.

When everything started to crumble down, he wished for you. He’d imagined that you were probably in your room cuddled up with a bunch of blankets listening to your Hozier-favorites playlist while sipping cold tea. Carter occasionally even wished for everything to be a nightmare, that he was just sleeping on your couch while you watched one of your favorite horror movies, any different situation would be better than the current disaster happening. 

He couldn’t help but blame himself for every little thing. 

He was the one that let the puck reach the net four times, he thought. 

Somehow his head made him sure of this thought when he was pulled off the ice to the bench. He was angry, afflict, and all he wanted was for the team to score at least once or twice, so the loss wouldn’t be as awful as it was feeling at the time. 

But as you would sometimes say to him, “das Leben ist kein Ponyhof,” and even more than to hear your strange sayings, Carter liked to internalize them, because usually, they were great instructions for life. And to think that “life is no pony farm” was useful in times like this, it reminded him that it doesn’t matter how much he wished or worked, sometimes, it wasn’t meant to be. However, it didn’t erase your feelings, and that’s why he was fuming when he closed the door and went to the locker room. 

He tried to look unbothered enough to the media on the aftergame conversation, but on the inside, Carter was drowning in stress and guilt. During the drive back to the hotel, he thought about texting you to let you know he was crashing in your room that night, but he got carried away reading what people were thinking about his performance in the game. 

Most of them hated it.

And so did he.

Carter was thinking about how poorly he played when he knocked at your door, and you probably thought the same, but Carter wanted, no, he needed to see you and hear you, and he was sure you wouldn’t let him down. Your presence always did wonders for him and his self-esteem. He would probably hear “das Leben ist kein Ponyhof,” for the hundredth time, talk about how shitty he was feeling and let you caress his hair, and only this itself would make his day a little better. 

When the door opened to show you wearing a bathrobe, Carter lost his air for a couple of seconds. The mop of curls wet sitting on the top of your head, the dark skin, long lashes, full lips...everything about you was perfect to him, and he cheesily thought that maybe in another lifetime you were his queen and he would bow and adore you like you were the most perfect thing to walk the earth. 

“When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth, no grave can hold my body down. I'll crawl home to her” Hozier was softly playing inside your room.  

Carter thought about what to say, but nothing seemed to be enough, nothing made justice to how he was feeling on the inside, but he knew by the look in your eyes that you understood everything, every little detail, every bruise, and every deep and shaky breath. 

You took the bag from his shoulders and dropped it on the side of the door, before grabbing his hand and bringing his body closer. You watched the whole game while working on some management reports, as part of the media management team. You wished you were there. Nevertheless, just like the hockey team, everyone had a specific task, and yours today was writing and studying some more essential ideas discussed previously. You were not expecting Carter to show up at your door so soon. You knew he would eventually come around, and Carter said himself that he preferred to be close to you whenever he felt bad because you knew exactly when to ramble about yourself to take his mind off whatever was bothering him and when to listen to him and give advice. 

As soon as his scent hit your nose, you closed your eyes and enjoyed the hug. He was warm, and his hair was still wet from the shower, the fabric of his suit brought some kind of comfort when it came in contact with your skin and all you wanted to do was hold him until all his anguish was over. 

“You’re okay, we’re okay,” you whispered, peppering kisses along the exposed skin of his neck and jaw, the available surfaces when you crushed against him. 

You felt Carter nod his head, before finally putting a small space between the two of you.

“I’m sorry I forgot to text you to ask if I could just show up and…”

“Hey, it’s fine, we’re friends, no need to stress over this. And yes, you can crash here tonight as long as nobody notices, you know,” you traced his nose and the crease in his eyebrows.

And as much as you noticed every little detail of him, you were not able to see the way his face twitched when you said “friends” because as much as he loved your friendship, he got himself wishing for more in times like these. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, dropping a kiss to your forehead.

You disappeared to take off the moisturizer from your hair, and Carter took the time to make himself comfortable by taking his jacket off along with his shoes, letting the blankets on the couch engulf his body. 

“Das Leben ist kein Ponyhof,” you whispered when you came back. Now dressed in your pajamas and with your hair slightly damp, you lay beside your favorite goaltender on the couch. He dropped his head to your shoulders and made himself small, so you could take care of him the way he liked. And so with your favorite playlist playing and your fingers massaging gently at his scalp Carter fell asleep. 

He woke up with your voice distant, and a playlist still going, although it was not the Hozier one anymore. The room was darker than when he lay there, the only source of light coming from the open windows and one lamp, he noticed that you had lit a candle on the coffee table and that there was also a cup of water sitting there. 

Carter felt cared for and loved. He loved how your little details always made him feel better.

“I called room service, they’re getting our dinner here soon…” you appeared in the room again with your cellphone in your hands. “What’s up?” you asked, laying beside Carter one more time. 

The distance was little, and he thought about the way your friendship worked. It felt like more than friendship, and Carter took his time thinking about how he never sleeps with his friends like he sleeps with you. The way his friends cared about him but never the way you did. How he wanted to kiss you goodbye every time you parted ways and how he wished to just lay with you for as long as possible, just taking your scent in, enjoying your company, and your very specific playlists. 

“Hartsy?” you called again, confused with how he just zoned out. “Is everything okay? What are you thinking about?” 

He shifts on the couch, and now your faces are even closer. “Nothing...I was...this is a good song, never heard it.” 

You chuckled before directing your attention to the lyrics playing as background noise. Your heart did a little double-take, and you couldn’t help but turn your eyes to the face in front of yours.

“Friends just sleep in another bed, and friends don't treat me like you do. Well, I know that there's a limit to everything, but my friends won't love me like you. No, my friends won't love me like you.” 

You shivered when his thumb found your chin bringing your face even closer. It slipped through your face drawing little dots connecting every far end. You enjoyed the feeling, and though his hands were calloused, the pad of his fingertips felt soft and comfortable against your skin.

“Are we friends, or are we more?” his voice was so low you were sure if you weren’t staring at his lips, you would not understand. 

And when his thumb found your lips opening slightly, you closed your eyes, too overwhelmed with the new sensations to bother with an answer. You wanted him to crash the space between your lips and finally dive in, you wanted him to be more than friends, and you wanted to comfort him after everything. 

You wanted Carter and Carter only. 

You wanted to be more than friends.

Carter tested the waters by dipping his face and caressing your nose with his. He liked the way your faces seemed to fit in place, and he was determined to kiss you when the bell rang loudly in your room. 

“I have a saying for this,” you breathed out, wanting to laugh about the situation. “Aller Anfang ist schwer.” 

“And what does that mean?” 

“I’ll let you know later,” you fooled before getting up and going to answer the door.

Your legs were like jelly, and your mind was working at a fast pace, but still, you tried to keep composure.

Eating dinner after that interaction shouldn’t be easy, but it was for you and Carter, so he handled it so well it made you even more sure about how much you liked him. It wasn’t a real talkative dinner, but considering that hours prior, Carter was like a sad puppy, to see him smiling shyly at you was a victory. 

“Can I sleep here tonight?” he asked when you finished. 

“You already did,” you tried to mess with him, and Carter rolled his eyes before getting on the couch again. “Of course you can, Hartsy.” 

And so the rest of the night was just you and Carter randomly talking and listening to your playlist. He didn’t ask his question again, and neither did you, but you knew he was thinking about it when you went to bed. Especially laying there side by side. 

You were used with his naked chest and with his sleep pants, but it felt different that night, and the question keeps replaying in your head. So this time, you were the one to voice it. 

“Are we friends?” you turned to him. 

Carter sat in front of you, grabbing your hands. His fingers were cold against your palm, and you shivered one more time that day. 

“We’ve been ‘friends’ like this for more than a year, and even though I don’t know the turning point I know we are more than that and have been for a long time now,” his voice was firm like he was sure about what he was saying as he thought about it before. Your eyes dropped to your intertwined fingers, and you took a long breath before Carter started talking again. “Friends just sleep in another bed, and friends don’t treat me like you do...everything my friends do to me feels different when it comes to you.” 

It was the blink of an eye before your lips were connected, and you tried containing the growing smile between your lips. Carter’s lips were soft against yours, he felt like a summer day, one you waited a whole year for, and when it finally happened, it felt surreal. It wasn’t weird kissing him. It wasn’t odd sleep laying on top of him that night because it felt natural, it wasn’t anything new for the two of you. You were friends at the start, sure, but at some point, it turned into more, and you both handled it like it was only a friendship. You were happy to finally realize it had been more between each word, each interaction, each cheek kiss, and hug.  

Sleep came easy that night, for you and him. 

And even though his severe loss earlier, Carter felt valid.

You were there, you were his number one fan winning or losing, and he was happy he got to have a stable relationship with you. 

“Do you have a saying for that?” he asked jokingly.

“Unfortunately, no,” you held his face close, lips centimeters away. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to spend time with sayings when I can spend time kissing you,” you confessed.

He chuckles, “Suddenly, life feels like a pony farm.” 

You can find more of my work here

[amyscascadingtabs]

rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky

It’s the perfect little getaway, exactly what they needed. It would be even better if she could only stop thinking.

“So, tell me.” Jake holds her hand over the table, forcing her back to reality. “Five top moments for us 2019, go. Countdown-stylez.”

Three different New Year's Eves, as celebrated by Jake and Amy (and Mac).

read on ao3 💕

december 31st, 2019.

The hotel guests checking in before Jake and Amy are a family. A little girl with blonde hair, maybe four or five years old, is carrying her own pink backpack and making up dance steps around her father’s feet as he goes through the information with the receptionist, and an even younger boy is hiding behind his mother’s legs as he watches the people in the lobby with wide eyes. Looking up, Amy realizes that the mother’s open coat is revealing a baby bump, too. She’d put her at six, maybe seven months pregnant. Three kids. Amy feels a pang of jealousy.

Even with the observation skills of an experienced detective, it shocks her how good she’s become at picking out families and pregnant women in any crowd. It’s an interesting talent, but measured against the pain it causes her, Amy wouldn’t call it a very useful one. She notices Jake looking at the kids as well, a daydreaming look on his face, and somehow, that makes her pain worse.

The idea behind going away to a hotel upstate for New Year’s was so they could get away from the stress for a moment; go somewhere else, rest and relax, forget about the pregnancy master calendar they’ve stared themselves blind at for a few days. Amy didn’t realize how impossible it would be to get away from all the other reminders.

She draws a breath of relief when the family in front of them gets the keys to their room, the little girl running first towards the elevator and her brother laughing as he chases after.

“Cute kids,” Jake whispers, watching them longingly.

“Yeah.” Amy tries not to think about the negative pregnancy test she threw away in the bathroom trashcan before they left. “Really cute.”

//

“I’m excited you said we could drink tonight.” Jake toasts his White Russian with her glass of Sauvignon. “It’s been a while.”

“I know, “ Amy feels the guilt wash over her. “Well, it’s not New Year’s Eve every day. I think we’ve earned it.” And I already took a negative test, she thinks.

“We sure have.” He gives her a closer look, pressing his lips together like he always does when he’s worried about her. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Just tired,” she says. It’s not technically a lie. “I didn’t sleep that well last night.”

“Lucky we have a huge hotel bed to help with that tonight, then. Seriously, this place rocks.”

Amy’s prepared to agree on that part – she did her research the moment it stood clear they would both get New Year’s Eve off. After getting their room, they’ve spent the evening getting massages in the hotel spa, dining at the surprisingly nice restaurant, and now they’re admiring the view from the bar on the top floor, waiting for the fireworks. It’s the perfect little getaway, exactly what they needed. It would be even better if she could only stop thinking.

“So, tell me.” Jake holds her hand over the table, forcing her back to reality. “Five top moments for us 2019, go. Countdown-stylez.”

“Number five!” She rolls the r and holds on the i, earning herself an amused look from the older couple next to them. “Okay, I’m going to go with… that date you took me on for my birthday. I can’t believe you got into the puzzle bar this time!”

“I might have convinced the guard to let me in because it was your birthday, but still a good one. Number fooo-uur… the Cinco de Mayo-heist. God, that was fun, even if the tasing hurt like a bitch.”

“Agreed. Number three – when Holt finally invited us to that dinner party and I almost didn’t lose my cool once.”

“You keep telling yourself that, babe. Number two… the Jake way. Seriously, I still think we should try that again. It was awesome.”

“It was, but also way inappropriate,” she reminds him, but he just shrugs. “Number one, then.”

“I know which one is mine, but you go first.”

Amy swallows, then sighs. “Mine is after the manhunt. When we decided to start trying. That’s still my favorite moment.”

“Mine, too.” Jake looks her in the eyes, and she knows the bittersweet feeling is shared. “It’s going to happen, Ames. I know it. Maybe this month’s the one.”

Amy doesn’t have the strength to correct him, tell him she’s already taken an early test and that she’s lacking any confidence there’s going to be a second line when she tests again in a couple of days. Luckily, she doesn’t have to, because right then, the fireworks that have been going off a few at a time in the distance begin to multiply as the countdown starts.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four…

Amy leans forward so she can be kissing him already when the new year begins.

Three, two, one… happy new year!

The crowd around them erupts into cheers as the sky glows with colorful explosions when burning bits of metal lighting up the darkness outside. Jake kisses her deeper, seeming to forget that there are people around with a bit of alcohol in his system and his hands cupping her face. For a moment, Amy lets herself just be happy.

~

december 31st, 2020.

The instant Amy closes her eyes for the more-than-well-deserved nap Jake told her to take while he made dinner, Mac begins to cry from his crib again.

“McClane, please,” Amy pleads, as if reasoning with her two-month-old would solve his discontent. “You can't seriously be hungry again, that’s insane.”

She tries with the pacifier first, checking his diaper, even standing up and walking around with him for a bit to eliminate anything else, but Mac is still clenching his fists and only looking even more furious with her, so Amy gives in. She sits down with him again, unhooks one side of the bra and lets him find his grip, exhaling when the peaceful suckles begin and the desperate crying finally ceases. She swears it looks like her son is side-eyeing her for taking too long, but to her defense, she fed him for a good forty-five minutes only a little over an hour ago and it's exhausting being used like a human pacifier. Growth spurt, Camila Santiago said when Amy called her in tears yesterday, and the problem-shooting section in the 0-3 months baby-binder had agreed. Amy would argue that sounds way too innocent for something which is turning her otherwise happy and smiley baby into a constantly hungry and crying mini-monster who won't close his eyes for more than twenty minutes at a time.

There's a soft knock on the door after a few minutes, and Jake peeks in. He’s wearing his fancy kitchen apron, which Charles gave him for Christmas with the comment that there’s nothing sexier than a dad who can cook. It hasn’t magically improved his cooking skills, but Amy’s willing to admit that it does look good on him.

“You guys doing okay?”

“He is, for now. I’m going crazy. How’s our dinner going?”

“Well, I haven’t burnt it yet, but there’s still time,” he grimaces, sitting down at the foot of the bed. “Do you need anything, babe?”

“Sleep, but that’s not going to happen.” Amy rubs her eyes. “It’s fine. He’s got to fall asleep at some point, though, this is nuts.”

“Don’t challenge him, he’s breaking records,” Jake says, leaning forward to tickle Mac’s feet. Mac reacts by kicking at the boob he’s not currently feeding from, making Amy curse. “Oops, sorry. Anyway, I’m sure he will fall asleep at some point, and we can have a nice, calm New Year’s dinner. I mean, he has to be exhausted, right?”

“God, I hope so. I’m starving.” She can see Mac’s eyelids getting heavy, but every time she thinks they’re about to fall closed, it’s like he twitches and stares at her, wide awake. “He’s lucky he’s cute.”

Jake grins. “Lucky indeed.”

Mac starts pulling away at that moment, a little bit of milk still dribbling from his cheeks. Amy reaches for one of the muslin blankets that’s never more than a few feet away in their home nowadays, lifting him so he’s upright against her shoulder and patting him on the back. She expects a burp, but instead, she gets an unpleasant surprise when he spits up, managing to get sour baby puke down her back and in her already greasy hair. She groans, giving Jake an exhausted look when she sees him stifling a chuckle.

“Hey, I’ll take him. You go take a shower and I’ll put him in the BabyBjörn. Maybe that will do it.”

“That’s the hottest thing you’ve ever said,” Amy mumbles, and she’s not entirely kidding.

She makes the shower as long as she possibly can. Most days, she has to shower with Mac in the baby bouncer on the bathroom floor, so even the chance to be alone in the bathroom for more than five minutes feels like a luxury. She lets the shampoo really lather and the conditioner take its time to sink in, trying to massage the knots in her neck and shoulders under the hot water. She can hear Mac still fussing from the kitchen, and it makes her feel guilty even though he’s barely left her arms today.

“He’s fine,” she whispers to herself like a mantra. “He’s fine. Jake can handle it. He’s perfectly fine. Everything’s okay. You deserve this.”

She still skips the make-up and nicer clothes she had been planning to put on, throwing on a pair of maternity leggings and one of Jake’s old hoodies instead.

The dinner looks fantastic, some sort of chicken baked in the oven with rice and a lemon sauce, and Amy’s actually impressed. She imagines it would have been even nicer if she could have eaten it warm and together with Jake, but they only make it through toasting in orange soda and the first two bites before Mac wakes up from his ten-minute-nap, wailing as if he truly believed he’d just been abandoned. They end up having to take turns eating and walking laps around the living room with him, because he starts crying again if they stop moving for a second or as much as make an attempt to put him down. Amy is suddenly relieved they said no to her brother Tony’s New Year’s party-invite.

She can barely believe it when after what feels like the fiftieth or so feed of the day, Mac falls asleep. Curled up like a little frog on her chest and letting out the cutest of baby snores, he finally seems to relax, and Amy doesn’t even dare to breathe too sharply for the first ten minutes. Eventually, though, once it seems like he’s not going to wake up from the slightest movement or a raised voice anymore, Jake tucks them both in under a blanket and gets the Ben and Jerry’s from the freezer and orange soda from the fridge. Then he gets another blanket for himself, and they snuggle up together in the corner of the sofa in front of the tv. From live footage at Times Square, Amy can see crowds of people waiting for the ball to drop.

“Wishing you were there?” Jake winks, but she just laughs.

“Are you kidding? Cold, crowded, and you can never even get a good view. This is better in every way.” She strokes her thumb over Mac’s dark hair. “I have this one and you. That’s all I need. And ice cream,” she adds, digging out a piece of cookie dough from the tub.

“You’re right, it’s pretty damn close to perfection. Top five moments of 2020?”

Amy shakes her head, pointing to Mac. “No point. They’re all about him, anyway, and they’re all too good to compare.”

“True that.” Jake shakes his head. “Hey, isn’t it crazy that although he’s been kind of a nightmare today, I’ve already forgiven him?”

“No, it makes perfect sense, because I’ve almost wanted to give him away several times and now I can’t even remember why.”

“Having a baby makes us kind of crazy, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely. I wouldn’t change it for the world, though.”

“Me neither. Not even if I was offered a role in the next Die Hard-movie and Taylor Swift did the soundtrack.”

“That’s pretty big,” Amy laughs, leaning in for a quick kiss. “Would Taylor Swift do the soundtrack for Die Hard, though? Realistically speaking?”

“It’s a daydream, Ames!”

She has no time for a comeback, though, because right then, the countdown starts on the tv and Jake raises the volume a few bars so they can hear.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four…

p;

“New Year’s kiss,” Amy says, holding Mac up slightly so they can both reach him.

Three, two, one… happy new year!

They both smother his cheeks with kisses at the same time as the fireworks explode over the sky in the distance outside their windows and the crowd begins to cheer on tv. Mac doesn’t even flinch, completely oblivious to the celebrations going on outside. Amy sighs.

“How can he magically sleep through all of this, but wake up the second I put him down in his crib at night?”

Jake shrugs. “Babies, man.”

~

december 31st, 2021.

Amy has only started to take off Mac’s winter overall before he starts trying to flee, kicking wildly with his boots and pointing towards the kitchen where he’s already spotted Rosa. Jake notices her struggle and is quick to help her, and the instant the toddler is free, he hurries off towards his best friend.

“Wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo!”

“Mac! Hey, happy new year, man!” Before Amy can even take off her own jacket, Mac is already in Rosa’s arms and babbling excitedly as he plays with her gold necklace. Amy wonders how much of what Mac’s saying actually makes sense to Rosa, but she’s nodding and smiling and seems to have abandoned whoever she was previously talking to in favor of the one-year-old.

“Jake. Amy.” Kevin appears to take their coats, shaking their hands. “Welcome. Drinks and hors d’oeuvres are in the living room, and I see your small child has made himself at home.”

“He found Rosa, yep.” Jake grins. “And he has a name.”

“Ah, yes… McClane.” Kevin nods. “Very well. I have to go check on… the kitchen. Enjoy your evening.”

  “He’s never going to like me,” Jake whispers to Amy the moment he’s left.

“Well, I think we both might have lost a few points with the name choice, babe.”

“He’s one to talk names, he’s got a dog named after a cheese!”

“I know, but we can’t tell him that. Come on, Jake, I have to find something to chew on before I get sick.”

“You can always blame it on the alcohol, if you do.”

“Jake.”

“Just kidding,” he grins. “You go check on Mac and Rosa and I’ll locate the snacks.”

 It turns out Rosa is more than willing to guard Mac for the evening, currently showing him the model train she's found in the library. Mac is watching with focus as Rosa helps him turn on the button that makes the train drive around the tracks, laughing as it lets out a choo-choo sound.

“Your son is much cooler than the rest of these lame partygoers,” she shrugs when Amy asks her if she's sure it's fine. “He says what he's thinking, unlike the rest of all these dum-dums.”

“Dum-dums,” Mac repeats, proud. Rosa nods.

“Exactly. I’ll call you if something happens.”

 And so, in an unexpected turn of events, Amy finds herself able to sit down for most of the evening without having to chase a wild toddler around to keep him from whatever dangers he could somehow manage to get himself into in Holt’s and Kevin’s house. She supposes it looks quite antisocial of her, and maybe it is, but she’s six weeks pregnant and the early symptoms of nausea and fatigue seem to be coming on both stronger and faster the second time around, so Amy doesn’t really care. She’s got lemon sparkling water for a non-alcoholic drink, a paper plate of carrot sticks, salted crisps and almonds, and she’s not going to talk to anyone unless they sit down next to her. It’s practically heaven. Jake checks on her from time to time, assuring her multiple times that they can just leave early if she wants to, but however tired she feels, Amy doesn’t want to insult Holt that badly. They’re staying until midnight as per proper New Year’s party etiquette, and then — and not a second later — they can go home so she can crash in bed.

 Rosa finds her again when Mac begins to get sleepy, rubbing his eyes and yawning but still shaking his head when Amy asks if he's feeling a little tired. He crawls over to her arms anyway, laying his head on her shoulder and hugging his arms around her chest.

“Thanks for looking after him,” she tells Rosa, but she just shrugs.

“No worries. I don't get to hang out with him enough. Your kid is dope.”

“Douh,” Mac whispers, mimicking her, and Rosa laughs.

“Repeats every word you tell him, too,” Amy says. “Yeah, he’s pretty awesome. Come over to our apartment at five-thirty in the morning on any weekend and you can hang out with him all you want. I won't stop you.”

Rosa scrunches her nose. “I’ll consider it.”

“He’s in a great mood then, I can assure you that.”

“I'll take your word for it. Also, Jake was tipsy talking baby names with some etymology professor when I saw him last, and he seemed very intense about it for a guy who's not currently thinking of naming any new babies. Or?” She raises an eyebrow.

“No, he just get thats intense when somebody implies McClane is a weird name,” Amy says, and makes a note to herself to remind Jake about their agreement not to tell anyone else at least until the twelve-week mark. “Which, to be fair, I warned him that people would think. But here we are anyway.”

“It is a weird name. Couldn’t imagine him being called anything else, though, even if I still don’t understand why you agreed to it.”

“There was a really good PowerPoint involved.”

Rosa looks at her questioningly, but Amy shakes her head, knowing there’s no point in explaining the unexplainable.

“Hmm. You guys are weird. You make pretty great kids, though.”

“Yeah.” Mac has fallen asleep by now, drooling a little bit on Amy’s shoulder. She kisses the top of his head and thinks of the abstract idea of her second kid, the thump-thump of an already present heartbeat they got so lucky as to hear on an early ultrasound yesterday. “The best.”

 As midnight draws closer, most of the guests take on jackets, scarves and shoes to venture out into the garden to watch fireworks. Not wanting to be left out, Amy and Jake manage to get a half-sleeping Mac, who wakes up suddenly interested when he hears about the promise of fireworks, into his overall and join them. It’s a surprisingly good view from the garden, the cold winter air waking them up, and Jake points out the vibrant displays in the sky to a drowsy Mac, who blinks at them dazedly. It’s so cute it makes Amy tear up. Being both a mom and newly pregnant does that to her; she’s given up trying to fight it.

  It’s hard to believe that two years ago, she was toasting in champagne in a hotel bar and wondering if they would ever make a baby together, and now she’s standing in a garden watching Jake with their one-year-old son and knowing that next New Year’s, if all goes well, they’ll be parents of two.

“What are you thinking of?” Jake must see her tears, because he looks worried, but Amy just smiles.

“Just how quickly things can change. How happy I am. And how much I love you.”

“Love you, too. Top three-hundred-and-sixty-five moments of this year,” Jake says, hugging her close so they’re standing in a little family bubble. “Every single day I get to wake up with and then come home to my family.”

  Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four…

  They both lean in so they can smother their son with kisses, and he laughs as he figures out what’s about to happen.

 Three, two, one… happy new year!

  The sky explodes with color, Jake and Amy attack their son with kisses, and as the new year begins, Amy thinks she might just be the luckiest person in the entire world.

~