#he’s their older cousin who they only saw every couple years growing up but now they’re adults and hang out on purpose sometimes

[nerdyenby]

One thing about Etho is he always winds up in some whack family dynamic. He doesn’t even seek it out, people see him and are like “you are my deadbeat dad now, thanks” and he’s just standing there like 🤨

[dragons-clause]

The Dragon's Clause

Sabo x Fem Reader CW: Forced marriage, intrigue, character death, fantasy violence, blood, magic, language, smut, 18+ mdni

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff

Chapter 7: The Grand Duke...?

You arrived without incident at Aquilegia, the town that was nearest the Duke’s estate, and under his protection, and were greeted by two different, but kind, individuals.

One was a young lady who couldn’t be much older than you. She was dressed in clean and crisp traveling clothes, that looked more functional than fashionable, but they fit her well. Short orange hair and deep blue eyes greeted you with a bright smile.

The other was an older gentleman who appeared to be a fishman. You knew of minks and fishmen, though you’d never seen either race directly until now. You were read up on other tribes as well, but the Nusjuro Empire wasn’t home to much variety. The coastal cities probably saw more diversity than Lulusia or Goa ever would.

He had mottled yellow skin, grey hair and mustache, and a frill along his jaw were a beard would usually grow. He was also in more practical traveling clothes, but there was more fashion in his than his younger companion’s.

“You must be Lady Lulusia.” The younger lady says, curtsying before stepping forward. “My name is Koala, I’m the head maid, and this is Hack. He’s the head butler.”

Hack bows. “We’re here to assist you with your things and see you to the estate.” He states evenly. Where there’s energy and a bright smile with Koala, he seems to be strictly business.

You can appreciate both approaches.

You look around a little, and notice it really is just the two of them. It could be that the smaller northern town has less crime than the capital, and armed knights wouldn’t be needed. It could also be a continuation of the trend of disrespect from the King and Crown Prince.

“Is this really everything?” Koala asks, looking at the three trunks you had with you.

Smiling warmly you nod. “I had spent several years as my cousin’s lady-in-waiting, and my Uncle and I had agreed I would only take what I needed on the long journey between Lulusia and Goa.”

“Long journey, but the tele-urk!” Koala grimaced as Hack stepped on her foot. His action had been smooth enough you’d almost missed it, but it seemed his younger counterpart was more animated than he was.

“I imagine the peace and quiet were enjoyable.” Hack offers, easily lifting two of the heavy trunks.

“It… was, indeed. A wonderful opportunity for introspection.” You agree, quickly composing yourself. You’d heard that fishmen were naturally stronger than humans, but the magnitude of that difference was impressive to see. Hack was carrying the trunks as though they weighed no more than a tray of snacks.

Magic aptitude was a little more rare among them, and almost unheard of among the giants, so far as you had read. You doubt that it was actually rare, so much as it was likely just underdeveloped. With other attributes geared toward their survival, it was just more likely that they hadn’t cultivated magic to the degree humans had.

Human magic was different from the force the beasts in the wilds wielded, even if the source of it all was the same. Even among humans, specialized magics varied so wildly from one person to the next, if they even reached the pinnacle to unlock it in the first place, that oftentimes it was hard to even see it as magic.

Magic was potential, and every living being had potential.

Koala took care of your third trunk, putting it up on its wheels and dragging it as you had expected Hack to do in the first place with the other two.

“There’s a carriage just outside, m’lady,” she begins. “It’s just a couple hours from here to the estate, but don’t worry. The carriage is one of the most comfortable ones the Duke owns. It’s even enchanted to stay warm.”

“That’s good to hear,” you admit as the three of you step outside the station. The sky was clear, and the sun was warm, but so far north it was far colder than it had been in the capital. Much colder than you were really dressed for. “Admittedly, I didn’t pack any winter clothes.”

“Worry not Lady Lulusia,” Hack takes a moment to load the trunks with a little help from Koala. “The estate is comfortable, and the Duke has already allocated funds for your use.”

“… I won’t be meeting him today then?” You do your best to intone the question as neutrally as possible, but you’re starting to feel truly slighted at this point. Koala provides you a hand to step into the carriage.

It is indeed very comfortable. The seats are thick and the backboard is just as plush. It’s markedly warmer inside the carriage, but not so much as to be stuffy. The Duke’s insignia marks a few places, and you’re surprised to see it doesn’t have any similarities with the Royal insignia mark for Goa.

“Our apologies Lady Lulusia,” Koala begins after she gets into the carriage with you. “The Grand Duke was sent on a northern expedition three days ago. He’d already reached the border and started the campaign when the King’s decree reached him.”

You nod in understanding. “To abandon a campaign at that point would be a waste of resources. Not to mention the damages the beasts could cause at the border if they were merely prodded and then left to be.”

Koala’s eyes go wide for a split second and then she smiles. “Exactly. Your understanding is appreciated my lady.”

“My father was a border knight,” you press your lips together. As much as you wanted to keep your sense of self close to your heart until you knew who to trust, this much wasn’t difficult to learn about you. “So I have a better understanding than some.”

“Until the Duke’s return I will be attending to your needs. We’ve been instructed to provide anything you require, and answer any questions to the best of our ability.” Koala leans forward a little, lowering her voice. “Be careful asking Hack about anything to do with the estate itself. You will not get him to stop talking.”

You smile, holding back a laugh, and think that it might be a good way to spend an afternoon if the butler has time to spare for it. It would probably make his entire week at the least, getting to go on about the history of a place he cares for so much.

“Is it old?” You question, realization settling in as you consider things. “I didn’t think there was a Grand Duke in Goa until recently.”

Koala’s smile never falters. “It is old! It used to be the capital of Goa. There was another country to the south where the capital is now, that covered most of the territories of Lulusia, Germa and Ilisia.”

“I think I’ve read about this.” You interject. “There was a war two centuries ago, and the Briss kingdom lost.”

“The lands of Briss were divided up among Goa, Lulusia, Ilisia and Germa. With access to more southern lands, Goa shifted its capital. Ilisia did as well, having been a more coastal kingdom prior.” She explains.

You nod. “It is the same story. Lulusia ended up giving most of its land to Ilisia and Goa, to build trade and strengthen an alliance between them. Lulusia needed assurances that their tributes were making the long journey to the Empire, and they needed food stuffs from Goa. It was less costly to give up what little lands they’d gained, than to start developing agriculture for the new territory.”

“Do you enjoy history, Lady Lulusia?” Koala questions.

You shake your head. “Not particularly, but I wanted to be sure I had a solid foundation when my Uncle made his decision.”

She nods, seeming to agree it was a good choice. As the carriage travels through the small town of Aquilegia, she tells you about it and its people. Koala explains some of the festivals and feasts that happen over the year, and speaks about the imports and exports. There’s not much farming this far north, but there are certain spices and wools that only grow here. The famous Fleece Breath sheep are more comfortable and efficient in northern climates than southern ones.

Because of that, the small town of Aquilegia is the richest town outside the capital, despite having nearly one-third of the population. Having such direct control on the wool trade from the sheep allows the Duke to keep the people fed and warm with little additional effort.

Due to the lucrative nature of the sheep and their wool, the second most common occupation in the area was some variety of knight or armed guard. It wasn’t just a matter of protecting the animals from theft, but also from harm. Delightful as their wool was, they were exceptionally stupid animals.

To the point that people would refer to someone as being “deep in the fleece” if they were too comfortable in their own ignorance.

“What do you enjoy, if I may ask?” Koala questions as you leave the center of the town behind.

You ponder things for a moment, trying to decide if you should admit to something scandalous, or lie. Either way could work for you in the end, and with the Duke likely stuck at the border for another week, there was no reason to hold back.

“My father taught me how to use a sword, and I do derive pleasure from the art.” You answer evenly, giving her a careful smile. “If it’s not too much to ask, perhaps I could make use of the Duke’s training grounds?”

Despite the near constant smile on her face, you were beginning to see the subtle differences that her expression could take. The delighted surprise is replaced by something a little more devious, and you’re certain that deviousness isn’t meant for you.

“Such could be arranged. I imagine today you’d prefer to get settled in and rest?”

You nod. “I assume it would take some time to have weather appropriate clothes brought in as well. Especially for something like swordplay.”

“Perhaps not too long, the Duke’s knights are quite varied, I’m sure we could find you clothes to borrow instead of making you wait, if you’re comfortable with that?” Koala offers.

“So long as no one is forced into sharing, I wouldn’t be uncomfortable with it.”

“Perfect! I’ve heard about the border knights in Lulusia before, the beasts along the mountains are just as fierce as the ones the Dawn Kingdom has to contend with.” She’s leaning forward, practically beaming and not even trying to control her excitement. “I’ve heard the sword style used by the knights there is efficient and deadly.”

“It is… beautiful.” You murmur quietly, eyes looking far beyond the confines of the carriage. Blinking away the memories you give Koala a careful smile. “I am more than happy to give a demonstration.”

[marahuyomae]

Writing Prompts for Tokyo Revengers Fanfics that I came up with and are now Gaslighting you to do my work helping you get out of writer's block

MIKEY EDITION

Male! Y/N and Female! Y/N is well-known as a Twin Detective Duo throughout their years of service and despite a seemingly obvious threat to Bonten's power- And yet, the Criminal Organization seemed to be obsessed with the twins. Despite the cat-and-mouse chase, the twins still look upon their goal of taking down Bonten. Finally catching the criminal organization, the criminals were forced to separate from one another and were locked up in different places in Japan. Each was interrogated individually. Some were avoiding answering the questions, but Mikey... MIKEY confessed to every crime they did. The twins only chuckled at him and this left Mikey confused, about to open his mouth when suddenly he began seeing the walls fade, he felt himself getting younger, he felt as if time was reversed. Only for him to look back up at the detective twins and was flabbergasted to see that they were therapists. And all those crimes, all those nights he saw blood in his hands, a hallucination, every death he saw was his anxiety. And the reason he was there finally came back to him; it was after Baji's death, he started to realize that the way he thinks is not normal. He saw how Hina's life went, how Emma's went, and a few kids who ran around. All of it was overwhelming, for it was nothing but a bitter truth- HE is not going through a bright path. Despite having a mental illness in Japan being taboo, he tried to seek professional help. He looked back up at the twins in front of him as the elder L/N spoke, "Imagine the glass I am holding is you, and the water inside it is your emotions. You were still young when you were forced to grow up right after your mother's death, and as a child, you are known to be fragile and vulnerable when it comes to your emotions. A child like you is supposed to be taken cared for, but that privilege was now gone after having your mother taken away from you along with your brother who stood up to your Father's role." she paused as she looked at her twin, "What Nee-chan is trying to say is that you have a crack, just like how this glass has one. Which resulted in the water leaking through the small crack, causing a range of actions from him. Your trauma caused a crack in your glass. And the crack resulted in your overflowing emotions to burst." The twins looked at Mikey, "In other words Mikey, you do not have a Dark Impulse, it's an Intermittent Explosive Disorder."

Mikey(Along with the other Sanos of course) and GN! Y/N (They are 2 years older than Mikey) are long-distance cousins... Like their blood-relatedness is so far far away rain rain go away. They haven't seen each other for a few years now, and when Y/N came back to actually try to take care of Mikey and Emma... That was their only intention, but Mikey being Mikey, actually sees Y/N as Shinichiro due to how similar they are...Despite the fact, he sees Y/N that way he still held love and respect for Y/N AS Y/N (but refuses to show that he cares for his elder cousin)... Y/N saw how clingy and dependent Mikey became and that is when Y/N started to think it was fun to leave Mikey alone for a couple of hours or days, only to come back with a crying Mikey... "I- III THO *SOBS* THOUGHT Y-YOU LEFT ME!" Mikey will bawl out and Y/N would just look at him with a gentle smile and coo, "Aww baby, you know that I would never do that, I only left for a while to avoid myself from thinking that you do not love the same. I am so hurt that you do not love your neechan/niisan ): " "NO NO! THAT'S NOT TRUE! I LOVE YOU NEE NEE/ NII NII! MORE THAN ANYONE WOULD! I NEED YOU! I LOVE YOU! PLEASE PLEASE....please... don't leave me." And once Y/N is satisfied, they would cuddle with Mikey.

Mikey is a greedy man, a lot of people knew that... He hates sharing what is his... and yet... Why does he feel happy and satisfied sharing you with Bonten... Why doe it feel nice seeing you get passed around like a toy?

Mikey thinks he is starting to have blackouts or some shit like that... but suddenly it wasn't actually blank episodes where you spaced out... Y/N actually went inside his body... and every time Y/n does, Toman or anyone else would be so scared like.. why da fawk is he being sassy or shit like that?!😨

Bonten! Mikey gets kidnapped by another huge ass gang that is overseas, and when he got kidnapped he got experimented on and was given a huge amount of highly dangerous drugs and it made him get the ability to control the structure of a cell... This prompt might get overly satirical for some of you... but my explanation for this is that we are all connected together... each cell and each atom is connected... If the human body gets overdosed by drugs... His cells would multiply and would heighten his senses... enabling him to feel everything around him.. and would be able to control a molecular structure.

A continuation to the space out Mikey with a GN! Y/N who occupied his body... What if Mikey wakes up every day in another body of one of his friends or people he knew and gets to live their life for a day.

Anyone can use this, as long as you reblog this for permission... Also, give credit and mention me once you made it...

[therewillbenoy]

A Final Goodbye.

“May you be in Heaven half an hour before the Devil knows you’re dead.” It’s Irish Catholicism in a nutshell - it’s funny, it’s slightly irreverent, it’s nonetheless God-fearing and it leans into tragedy. I walked past that saying on my grandparents’ porch every time I walked into their house. And now I’ve walked past that saying, on that porch, for the last time. I knew when I did it that the day was coming but I didn’t know it was that day. I didn’t know that my feelings about a place could be so intense that I’d refuse to enter it again.

Grief is a well practiced ritual in my life. Beyond growing up in a large Irish Catholic family, I also descend from cemetery people. For most of my childhood, my grandfather was the superintendent of a Catholic cemetery. If he wasn’t at the cemetery, he was pulling on a flat cap and heading out the door to a wake. “You take care of the people first and you worry about everything else later,” he’d say. I went to my first open casket wake when I was 6 years old and my mother had me kneel down in front of the casket and say a prayer. It was more of an introduction to the ritual of death than to loss. I didn’t know my great aunt very well and I wasn’t going to miss her. But I needed to learn the dance. And over the years I’ve learned it, often brutally and painfully. But there is solace in the dance, in having an order to things, in knowing all the steps and also in knowing when the dance will be done.

It was the dance that provided a map for me to find my way back to life after each loss that my family endured over the years. And, in the tradition of other large Irish Catholic clans, there was a lot of loss. Part of that map, the ritual of death, for me has always been gathering at my grandparents’ house. When we were broken, we found each other there - aunts, uncles, cousins and extended family members pouring in to pay their respects, bring food and just to be together. Crowded onto furniture in the small living room, with a portrait of Jesus hanging over the couch, we sat until the tears turned back to laughter, until we had assured one another that we were going to be okay.

The house saw more laughter than sorrow though, more life than death. When my grandparents bought it in 1958 for $9,300, my grandfather told my grandmother that he hoped she liked it because he was never moving her again. And he never did. They raised 7 children in that small cape, building on the side porch and building out additional bedrooms upstairs and in the basement to accommodate their growing family. Kids shared rooms and beds and the single bathtub in the house. They’d play outside all day with neighborhood friends while my grandmother did the work of cooking for and cleaning up after all those children. The children grew and the house was filled not only with their laughter but the laughter of their cousins, friends, significant others and, ultimately, their children.

My own life essentially started right there, my mother had been staying with my grandparents to be close to the hospital and was visiting with a neighbor a couple of doors down when she realized that she was in labor. I was the first granddaughter and the first niece, coming just a couple of years after the birth of my older brother who was the first everything. And I was treasured in the walls of that home. I say that now, at 45, with an understanding of just how much of a blessing it is to grow up feeling treasured. I knew, from my earliest moments, that when I walked into that house, faces would light up with smiles. There were so many smiles.

My grandfather kept a bag of candy in the kitchen drawer that stuck a little bit so sometimes little ones had to ask for help. And help was readily available. If you wanted to see up high, someone’s arms would lift you up and put you on top of the refrigerator and you would giggle in a mixture of excitement and fear and then reach back for the arms that would carefully lower you down. If there was a game of hide and seek going, someone would be willing to close you into the linen closet with a blanket over your head or even to lift you up onto the shelf of the coat closet if you were old enough to be trusted to stay on it. If it was summer, someone would surely turn on the water for you and pull a chair up to the sink so that you could spray an unsuspecting family member through the kitchen window. If you scratched your knee playing outside, Gram had band-aids with cartoons on them to patch you up. If you were losing in a game of penny poker at the kitchen table, Gramp would come up with some more pennies and slide them into your pile. In that house, you were always safe. People were always rooting for you and they were there to pick you up when you fell down.

Like a good Catholic family, mine gathered regularly on Sundays. There are decades of memories of that small house overflowing with people - people in the kitchen grabbing food and having “private” conversations by the sink, women in the living room trading gossip while cooing over the babies (there were so many babies) and men in the back room shouting about games on the television. I loved every minute of it. I loved listening to my grandmother, mother and aunts talk about all of the happenings in our world, from the drama in their friends’ lives to the most recent cover of People magazine. I loved my uncles arguing about sports and my grandfather casting them all as fools. It would be many years before I realized that not everyone’s family gathered like this, years before I realized the depth of my fortune in being born into this family.

Time takes its toll on everything and families are no different. The boom of marriages, babies and good times can change to divorces, financial struggles and hard times. My family wasn’t immune to any of that. When my parents got divorced, we moved in for a period of time with my grandparents. It was a difficult and confusing time but being there made it easier. My grandfather had been orphaned as a child and sent with his siblings to live with an aunt and uncle who likely resented the burden of having additional mouths to feed. He hadn’t felt loved or welcomed there and he told me that it was always important to him that all of us felt like their home was ours so that if anything ever happened, we could come there and feel like we were home. He wanted us to rumble through the cupboards and refrigerator when we were hungry, to lay down and rest when we were tired. His master plan was a life saver for me. We might have had to move but this had always been home. I lived there again in summers during college and if I could have stayed there my whole life, I think I would have. My grandparents doted on me as a college student just as much as they had when I was a toddler.

Over time, the people who were always there for you become the people who need you to be there for them. The kids needed to keep it down on Sundays because my grandfather was napping. My grandparents needed rides to their ever increasing medical appointments. They needed us to show up at the hospital and bring their medication list. On Christmas Eve in 2016, my uncle passed away. He was the second son that my grandparents lost to cancer, both in their 50s. I remember going to my grandparents’ house that night, like a rope was pulling me and everyone else there. And I remember going into the back room where I knew I’d find my grandfather sitting in his chair. I leaned down, tears rolling down my cheeks, to give him a kiss on the side of the head. He looked up at me and said “oh, God love you.” That interaction in the back room was our last, he died unexpectedly on Christmas morning.

My grandmother shined on, truly shined, until August of 2023. She was there, every Sunday, waiting for us in the living room, waiting to be surrounded by all the people she loved. She meticulously maintained a calendar on the kitchen wall with every birthday and wedding anniversary and you could always expect a handwritten card in the mail. She lived to hear all the happenings in our lives, to see the pictures and to tell us all the details of her day. Despite all of the loss in her life, she looked forward to the good things. She led us forward. And she did it from the chair in the right corner of the living room.

The chair is gone now. So is her plaid furniture and the navy blue wall to wall carpet. For weeks after she passed, we just kept going there on Sundays, filling the living room as we’d always done, holding onto something we’d always known. But the time has come to say goodbye to the house, a goodbye that my grandmother, the sweetest but least sentimental soul you’d ever meet, would have encouraged. And I have struggled mightily with this goodbye, refusing to return to the house once things started to change there. I thought that the reason for my struggle was that the house was my safest place in life, the place where I had always felt so unconditionally loved. And that could very well be part of it. But the real reason may just be that I don’t have a map for finding my way out of grief that doesn’t have 35 Mass Ave on it.

[justanothermerthurshipper]

This got way longer than I intended it to but

Chris: Only child (and if my vague maths from the Christmas radio show are right, his parents were about forty when they had him?, which I feel is important to the vibes).

Robert: Middle child. One much older brother who is Lucy's dad (I think for Lucy to be about 15 in PPGW, he has to be at least ten years older?) and the one sister who dated Chris. I hc his brother as being, like, a vet or something else 'successful' and his sister as a manager somewhere, with Robert vying for attention in the middle. He should have been the doted on miracle after his parents had only had his brother for so long, but his mum fell pregnant with his sister when he was a few months old and he soon got usurped. He's quite close to his sister but would never admit it, and the rest of his family relationships are quite tense.

Dennis: Only child. I also headcanon him as having older parents, so all his first cousins were adults by the time he was born and he didn't have a lot of kids around him growing up.

Trevor: Canonically has Dale, who I hc as being 5+ years younger, and who Trevor had to babysit a lot. Which means that now he is Weirdly Good with babies and younger kids. I used to hc them as having different mums before I found all the Trevor's Mum Lore on Twitter; now I feel like they're either full brothers or have different dads. I also have a hc that he has an older half sister via his dad's who he never lived with but who he's still fairly close to. I think there's a tweet that says he doesn't get on with his brother in law, though.

Max: Youngest child with two brothers. The youngest of all his cousins, too, and his grandma's favourite.

Sandra: Youngest of two girls (three or four year gap) with an X-Factor mum. They had a really competitive relationship growing up, and her older sister has since been successful in the media as a producer or something, but apart from an over-dramatic falling out every year or so they're very close.

Vanessa: Oldest of two girls (two year gap). Her sister is very different to her but they get on pretty well.

Annie: Second oldest with three or four brothers, and quite a few cousins. Was a weird combination of a tomboyish 'one of the lads' and surrogate mum growing up.

Jonathan: Oldest with one or two younger brothers, and two step sisters via his dad's second marriage who he's not particularly close to. They were all children of custody settlements, so when he and his brother's were staying at their dad's his step sisters tended to be at their dad's, so (apart from a couple of disasterous camping trips) they didn't see a lot of each other.

Lucy: Only child. Robert and his sister were young enough when she was born to be more like cousins, though, and she saw them fairly often until her parents got divorced and she only stayed with her dad and his family during school holidays.

guys what are your birth order headcanons for the cornley crew

[chris-evanslover]

Easy There, Tiger

Summary: OFC Tess is visiting her cousin Anna in LA, right before the Super Bowl. What happens when she meets a certain QB at the club...

WC: 1.6K

I’ve always detested Los Angeles. My older cousin Anna has lived here for a couple of years now and I decided to go visit her for a couple of weeks before I start my big girl job at a PR Agency in New York. There’s something about this place that is just seedy to me, however I do understand the hype. It’s a big city, oozing with celebrities and luxury, and it’s right by the beach. Growing up in New York City, however, has damaged any other city in my eyes, so I’m terribly biased. I just graduated college in the winter, ready to begin working towards the one bedroom, pinterest-esqe, brownstone apartment that every NYC dreamer thinks about.

“So, that guy I’m seeing is in with this big shot promoter. What do you think about going out tonight?” Anna said to me while I shoved my mouth full of Tostitos (scoops…obviously).

“What kinda party are we talking Anna?” “Not sure, BUT! There’s only one way to find out!” She smirked at me. “C’mon Tess, it’ll be so fun and if it’s not then we dip, no harm no foul.” She spoke.

“You promise we can leave if it sucks?” “Yes! I promise.” “Ok.” “YESSSS!!!!! I’m gonna let TJ know we’re in!” she leapt up from the dining room table and practically pranced to her room. This was going to be a weird night I could already feel it.

~That night, 11:00 PM~

The VIP section of the club that the promoter got us into was really cool I must admit. I was sipping on my second Tequila Lemonade when Anna’s man TJ came up to us. “Hey guys, you’re never going to believe who’s heading up here right now!”

“WHO??” Anna practically shouted at him due to the volume level in the club. I chuckled at her eagerness to meet celebrities. “A couple of the players in the Superbowl this weekend, my boy is going to introduce us.”

Rolling my eyes at Anna’s shellshocked expression, I found myself becoming curious as to who was going to show up. I guess I spent too much time in my head about it because before I knew it, Anna was pulling me up from the couch, causing me to almost spill my drink everywhere but luckily for once, God decided to look out for me.

“C’mon Tess let’s go meet cute football players!”

“I’m right here Anna” TJ sarcastically said as he rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, I want to get Tess a NFL player, how cool would that be” Anna said.

“No no, that’s not what we’re going to do” I stared at her pointedly. “And why not?” she asked, like I was being unreasonable for not wanting to be forced into flirting with a guy just because he’s a professional athlete.

“Because, Anna” I started, “I’m not a hookup person and you know that, and If there’s anything I hate more than hooking up mindlessly, it’s being set up. You know how awkward I can get.”

“Oh c’mon let loose! You just graduated, you’re stunning in this dress, and you deserve to have some fun, OH look, I think they just walked in.” Anna clapped her hands together and pulled me along with her.

Another thing you should know about me is that I hate the trope in books and movies that goes like, I saw him, he saw me, we are one, and all that love at first sight bullshit. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel a spark when my eyes met his. He looked familiar, I knew his name was Joe and he was the Quarterback for the Cincinnati Bengals, but that’s where my knowledge of him kind of ends.

I suck in a deep breath when his eyes catch mine, I quickly look down when I realize he’d caught me staring at him, God Tess you just made it so obvious. I decide to look up once more and notice that he’s still staring at me. We catch eyes once more and he sends me a small smile before being pulled into a hug by who I’m assuming is a friend of his.

Joe and his friends make their rounds around the VIP section, saying hello to everyone and quickly chatting, his friend who introduced himself as Ja’marr got around to Anna and I.

“Hello pretty ladies how are we doin tonight?!” Anna chuckled beside me and introduced us. “I’m Anna, my boyfriend TJ is friends with the promoter that you guys also know, this is my cousin Tess”

I’ll admit, I kind of spaced out until I heard my name and felt Anna nudge my side with her elbow. I looked up and saw that Ja’marr had his arms out to give me a hug so I hugged him back, saying the pleasantries ‘It’s nice to meet you’ ‘congratulations on the superbowl’ yadda yadda yadda.

I look over to Anna who was now hugging Joe hello and felt myself get hot immediately. I don’t know how I’m going to do this but get it the fuck together girlfriend. Anna must’ve said something funny because Joe pulled away laughing and I swear I would’ve committed arson out of admiration to hear that laugh again.

He turned to me and immediately opened his arms, “Hi there, I’m Joe it’s really nice to meet you”. I giggled (???bitch giggles now) and returned the hug, all I could spit out was “I’m Tess, congratulations”. He laughed and said thank you and motioned for me to sit back where I was before. By now, my tequila lemonade was long gone after I slurped it down due to nerves before.

“What are you drinking? I’ll get you another one.” Joe said, scanning my outfit subtly, however I noticed and dared his eyes to meet mine. When they came back up to my face and he noticed I knew he was checking me out, I could’ve swore I saw the tops of his ears go red, but it could’ve been the club lights.

“Tequila Lemonade please, thank you Joe” I said. “Tequila girl, alright I like it, I’ll be right back” Joe went to the bar in the upstairs section and got mine and his drinks before making his way back. While he was gone, Anna jumped on me like a tiger (no pun intended but fuck it we’re writing an imagine, pun intended). “HE’S INTO YOU!!!!!” “SCREAM IT LOUDER WHY DON’T YOU!!” “Tess, go for it! Kiss him he’s cute!”

“I’m not just going to kiss him!” “You need to put yourself out there! At least flirt with him!” “That I can do”

Joe came back and handed me my drink, before plopping down into the seat next to me on the couch. “So Tess, where are you from?” “New York” I answered while taking a sip of my drink (which was delicious by the way). “New York huh? What’s that like?” “Busy” I laughed “Very fucking busy I have to say, I’m starting a new job soon since I just graduated so I’m excited about that-sorry you didn’t ask about that” I laughed a bit awkwardly.

When I looked at him, he was smiling at me. “No please I want to hear more” “Um, well, I’m going into Public Relations, I have my eyes on a puppy at the animal shelter I’m thinking of adopting and my favorite sport to watch is ice hockey, no offense” Joe threw his head back and laughed “You’re brutally honest, I respect that in a person more than you know”

“YO! Joe!” Joe turned his head to Ja’marr calling his name “What’s up Ja’marr” “Nothin just wanted to talk to my best friend” Joe rolled his eyes and looked at me “This is what I deal with daily” making both of us laugh.

By this point I had drunk about half of my third drink and the alcohol was starting to really hit my brain. I giggled and leaned in a bit, loosing my balance almost falling over on to Joe but he caught me. One hand on my upper arm and the other snaked around my waist. “Easy there, how about some water, I’m going to get myself some too” “Please” I smiled up at him when he got up, he smiled back and walked to the bar. Immediately after he left, his spot was taken by none other than Ja’marr.

“No funny shit Tess, Joe hasn’t stopped staring at you all night. He’s genuinely a good guy I promise, give him a chance”

“He’s really nice” I laughed not knowing what to say to Ja’marr’s compliment.

Anna then told me that TJ had to get up early and that they were thinking of heading out. I frowned, not wanting to leave without talking to Joe more, but I also wasn’t that comfortable staying here without Anna and TJ. Joe came back with the waters and gave me mine when I stood up to meet him.

“I might be heading out, my cousin and her boyfriend have to leave” Joe’s smile faltered a bit, “I can’t persuade you to stay can I?” he asked hopeful. “Unfortunately I don’t know my way around here and there’s no way Anna’s leaving me alone. I’m sorry”.

“Could I get your number then? I’d like to see you again if that’s okay” “That’s more than okay”. I gave Joe my number and hugged him and the other’s goodbye. I headed out with Anna, before we could make it to the lobby I got a text from an unrecognized number.

(xxx)xxx-xxxx: Hi :) It’s Joe

(xxx)xxx-xxxx: Hi Joe, it’s Tess :)

A/N: Hi, I haven't written anything in literally forever but I'm excited for the Super Bowl and Joe is cute as hell so here's this. Let me know if you guys want a part 2 or request anything else, I'm horrible with idea's so please help a girl out!!! xoxo

[kung-laos-hat]

Infatuation

Liu Kang x Fem!Reader

This is my first fic on here :) not proof read yet‼️

Summary: Reader was an orphan Raiden found and raised in the temple. Despite being close in ages, Kung Lao and Liu were forbidden from really interacting with her because Raiden feared they’d become a distraction to each other. One night Liu Kang catches her sneaking around the temple, and doesn’t hesitate to seize the opportunity to talk to her

It was no secret that out of all the students Master Raiden took on, (Y/n) was by far one of his favorites. Although he would never dare to outright say it, the proof of this matter became pretty evident in their day to day life. (Y/n) was always the pupil standing behind him or to the side whenever another god payed the temple a visit, she was always given the most formidable missions and tasks, and to top it all off, she trained one-on-one with the Master himself and forbid most of the monks from interacting with her.

Now, Raiden could have placed this rule down for several reasons, but the most prominent one seemed to be because (Y/n) was the only female amongst his students, and so he mandated this in order to protect her well being. After all, who knew what evil might lurk in the hearts of these young men, Raiden thought. As one of his best pupils, (Y/n) couldn’t afford any distractions, nor could the others such as Liu Kang or Kung Lao.

Aside from that, Raiden had raised (Y/n) since she was a child, and as much as he hated to admit, he’d grown rather fond of her as not only a student, but as a daughter. So why wouldn’t he want to ensure no monk came to mettle in her business?

___

Raiden’s rule came with strict precautions and schedules to ensure (Y/n) would never really have to interact with the young men. I say young, because at the end of the day, (Y/n) needed someone to spar with, and Raiden couldn’t always be the one to fight her, so he permitted one of the trustworthy older monks to train with her under supervision every once and a while. Other than that, (Y/n)’s social interactions were limited to the household workers, such as the nurses.

This didn’t mean (Y/n) was oblivious to the existence of the monks around her age or younger. As the years carried on, and (Y/n) blossomed into a young woman, Raiden thought it was suitable to have her assist the children in their training. Her presence, he found, had a calming effect on the children and they quickly took a liking to her. However, this new position allowed her to see the monks around her age in passing or on the other side of the training grounds.

Still, none of them ever spoke to her outside of the casual greetings, thank you’s, and goodbyes.

___

“Do you want spar again later on today?” Liu Kang asked as he took a seat on the ground next to Kung Lao and grabbing his water.

Kung Lao ushered for him to pass the water to him. “Mmm,” He hummed thoughtfully, “We could try, but I think Master Raiden is having the younger monks use the training grounds while he’s out.”

Liu handed him the water and ran a sweaty hand through his hair. “If he’s out, then who’s leading them?”

Kung Lao took a generous sip from the bottle and placed it on the ground. “(Y/n)(L/n) is.” He answered, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

“(Y/n)?” Liu furrowed his brows together in confusion. “She’s been here just as long as I have, yet I don’t believe I’ve ever held an actual conversation with her.”

Kung Lao huffed, “Good. Master would have your head if you did.”

Liu gave him a puzzled look.

“Elder god’s rule!” Kung Lao cheered with false enthusiasm, “None of us are allowed to bother her. But as you can see, she’s been placed in charge of the children, so who knows? It doesn’t seem reasonable to me, really.”

“Huh.” Liu mused. I suppose he’d gotten so accustomed to his schedule that he didn’t even notice how little he interacted with the girl. Hell, he’d completely forgotten about that dumb rule.

“She’s an interesting girl, that’s for sure,” Kung Lao continued.

Just as he said that, the door in the hallway connected to their training court opened and the girl in question emerged, making her way down the hallway.

“Speak of the devil, there she is,” Kung Lao laughed.

(Y/n) turned her head at the sound of his voice and offered them both a smile and a wave as she passed by.

Kung Lao waved back enthusiastically. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” He whispered to Liu, but Liu was too captivated to respond.

His jaw loosened and all he could do was stare at her and only her, as if he was a camera in portrait mode. The wold around her seemed to blur and the light of the sun reflecting off of her skin and clothes made it seem like she was glowing. Liu Kang took in as much detail as he could; the tilt of her head, how her hair framed her face, the curve of her smile, everything. It all seemed magnificent and surreal.

He’d seen her before, surely, but somehow in that very moment something clicked in his mind. Something deep inside him had begun to build up and bubbled it’s way around his entire body. Liu felt like he was sick, but there was no nausea and his body didn’t ache. Instead his throat felt as it had closed and his chest tingled and burned. He brought a hand up and clenched the fabric in between his pectorals. As (Y/n)’s figure disappeared into the other side of the temple, Liu exhaled sharply.

“Liu?”

Perhaps this was the first time he’d taken the time to truly look at her, and that’s why he was feeling this way.

“Liu Kang?”

Maybe he’d been too concentrated on training and improving himself.

Liu was pulled out of his thoughts by Kung Lao flicking his forehead as hard as he could.

“OW— Lao—,” He whined.

Kung Lao chuckled, “I said your name twice.”

Liu’s frown dropped, “Oh, I apologize.” His gaze fell down to his feet in embarrassment.

A sly smile tugged at the ends of Kung Lao’s mouth as he realized what was going through Liu’s head.

“As I was saying,” He cleared his throat, “She’s beautiful. Truly something special, huh?” He teased.

Liu let out a sarcastic laugh and shoved the other male playfully.

The next couple of days Liu’s infatuation with (Y/n) would only grow stronger and more visible to Kung Lao and the others around them. It was interesting to see Liu become passionate about something other than being the “chosen one” for a change. Now the question was how long would it take before he couldn’t help but approach her?

___

Another tedious lesson was over and the two friends could not have been more eager to burst out of the room down roam the halls of the temple to their rooms, but Liu and Kung Lao knew better than to display such uncultivated behavior in front of their master. Once they and the other boys had been dismissed and were out of view from Raiden, Liu began his usual tangent.

“I saw her twice after morning practice, did I tell you?” He began stretching his arms above his head, “I waved and she—,”

“I know, Liu.” Kung Lao chuckled, “You told me all of this during our lunch. I’m beginning to think you’re becoming a little... obsessed with poor (Y/n).”

Liu slapped Kung Lao’s shoulder playfully, “I’m not obsessed, I assure you. I’m just curious as to why Master Raiden won’t let us talk to her.”

Kung Lao opened the pathway to their rooms and shook his head and they continued to walk. “I’m sure he has his reasons. And besides, it’s not good to be so fixated on this when you should be focused on training, Liu.”

Liu cocked and eyebrow at his friend. “What do you mean?”

Kung Lao stopped walking and gave him and knowing look, the corners of his mouth pulling up in amusement as if he was refraining a smile. “Don’t pretend like that little slip up during sparing a day ago while (Y/n) entered happened by sheer coincidence.”

Liu huffed and turned his face away stubbornly. “I didn’t expect her to be watching. I’m not used to fighting with an audience quite yet, that’s all.”

Now that was definitely a lie. Kung Lao knew Liu Kang saw himself as the golden boy amongst their peers, and who could blame him. He was a magnificent fighter.

“If that’s what you want me to believe, then so be it.” Kung Lao flicked the other boy’s forehead, then went off to tidy himself up before bed.

It wasn’t terribly late into the evening yet, but late enough that the sun has completely gone down and most of the temple residents were already asleep. Liu followed in his cousin’s footsteps and heading towards the showers. Afterwards the two boys spent another hour or so talking and playing games together until Kang Lao finally bid Liu goodnight.

Liu stayed behind to put away their things and was about to head out for the night, but when he stepped out into the open grand hall he noticed a figure quickly hide themselves behind one of the columns in the distance. His first reaction would of been to pounce and attack the being right then and there, but he knew he’d have to deal with a lot of angry side eyed glances tomorrow if it turned out to be a false alarm. A stealthy approach was better.

The boy casually pretended as if he was entering another section of the temple and hid behind the wall until he heard feint footsteps going the opposite direction. He took this opportunity to create some distance between him and the figure, just enough that it’d be difficult for them to sense them, but still allowed Liu to follow them.

Down the grand hall, towards the back of the temple, out into the training courts, and...

Into the greenhouse?

If this was a thief, they obviously weren’t a very smart one, for nothing of value would be found in the garden, Liu thought to himself. The garden itself was nothing impressive. Just a small room that was barely the size of a large shed. It contained a collection of flowers, potted trees and herbs that the nurses kept to replenish their stock every once and a while. Liu Kang peered in from the distance behind one of the trees outlining the entrance way, and finally identified the being as the girl he’d been thinking about nearly all week.

It was (Y/n). She placed a lantern that she’d been carrying with her onto the ground and look out a match from her pocket, then crouched down beside it. Seeing as the temple was in no danger, Liu Kang turned around to leave, but the shuffle of the branches startled (Y/n). She quickly summoned her (weapon/power) and darted out of the greenhouse. In her panic, the girl executed one swift blow to the tree, which Liu ducked and narrowly dodged.

“Calm yourself! It’s just me!” Liu whisper-yelled as he revealed himself, holding his hands in front of his chest defensively.

(Y/n) unclenched her fists and allowed her arms to fall to her side. She exhaled in relief, “You— what are you...? I apologize, I shouldn’t have assumed you were an attacker.” Her gaze fell to the floor in embarrassment.

Liu shook his head, “No, no, it was my mistake! I followed you out here on false pretenses that you were a burglar.”

The girl smiled and stifled a laugh. She tilted her head slightly upward to get a better look at the young man in front of her. He was in his normal attire, with his dark hair falling just about his shoulders and framing his face and neck quite nicely. (Y/n) would’ve been tempted to stare at him a little longer if not for the predicament she was in now.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Liu Kang. You see, I’m so busy during the day— and although I know Master wouldn’t approve of it, I come out here when everyone’s alseep just to have time to myself.” She explained frantically, “I don’t— please don’t misinterpret my intentions, I was just—,”

“It’s alright, (Y/n).” Liu smiled, slightly flustered, placing a hand on her shoulder, “No need to explain yourself further. I won’t tell anyone. In fact this entire conversation is technically forbidden, mind you.”

(Y/n) was looking directly at Liu Kang now, and something about his presence was extremely calming to her.

“That’s right...” She mumbled, “You should go then, I don’t want to cause you any more inconvenience, Liu Kang.”

“Just Liu is fine.” He could feel the giddy feeling in his chest growing stronger each time she said his name. In truth, he didn’t want to leave her just yet. He glanced back at the greenhouse and spotted the perfect excuse. “But before I go,” His hand trailed down from her shoulder to her hand, and she accepted it. Liu tugged her back towards the greenhouse.

“I see that in your hurry to kill me, you’ve lost your match.” He smiled playfully at her and picked up the lantern on the floor. Letting go of her hand, he summoned a small flame and lit the wick of the candle inside. Then Liu took (Y/n)’s hands and wrapped it around the side of the glass boy firmly.

“There.” He nodded in satisfaction. “Please accept this as my apology for interrupting your evening.”

(Y/n) let out a small laugh and nodded back. “Thank you, Liu, but,” Her eyes flickered down to the lantern, then back up at him with a hint of mischief, “now that you know my secret, how will I know if you’ll actually keep it?”

“What?” Liu frowned, pretending to take offense, “Is my word not good enough? In that sense, how do I know you’re not actually a burglar?”

“I suppose we’ll just have to keep an eye of each other from now on.” (Y/n) shrugged.

The two stared at each other for a moment, then bursted into a fit of giggles. (Y/n) sighed and placed the lantern on the ground.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow then? It works for both of us. Your secret stays a secret, and I get to talk to you.”

(Y/n)’s face heated up at his words, although I doubt Liu Kang could see it with just a lantern for light. “I look forward to it then. Goodnight Liu.”

Liu placed a small kiss on the back of (Y/n)’s hand, impressed with his own boldness.

“Goodnight.”

___

Bonus:

The next morning, (Y/n) rounded up the younger monks to observe the elder ones practice. She subtly waved to both Liu Kang and Kung Lao before taking her seat behind the children. Just as a match was about to commence, Master Raiden appeared in the entrance and made his way to the center of the court. The monks exchanged confused glances until Raiden spoke.

“Alright, which of you imbeciles destroyed one of my trees?”

[misstressshelby]

Lost Boy

Summary: You try your best to take care of the youngest Shelby and put him on the right track

Warnings: Language ( I really like the work fuck lol)

Word Count:1.358

Paring: Tommy/Reader (Reader is GN)

(A/N This is completely self-indulgent but while rewatching S2 I just got the urge to take care of Finn. He's just a baby and he deserved way better...also I have no idea how to UK school system works)

You hadn’t been married to Thomas Shelby for long, going on six months next week. You two had only known each other a year before he proposed and you had excitedly said yes. The wedding was simple with both families squished into the church. The reception was a different story. Cousins of cousins filled the Garrison and the streets outside. The party had gone well into the next morning. Long after you and Tommy had left, lost in yourselves and the thought of consummating the marriage.

You had taken up helping in the betting shop alongside Esme after your wedding. Slowly you were welcomed into the family meetings and dinners. Now you were ushered into the nook at the pub with open arms and jokes shared between the brothers. While you were getting closer to the Shelbys you still weren’t blood. You and Esme sat in on the meeting but never said a word. Occasionally you’d both share knowing looks or whisper about ongoings in private.

You had noticed during this time how the youngest Shelby was left unsupervised. Often forgotten in the chaos of Peaky business.

“Does Finn not go to school?” you asked your husband one night as you laid in bed.

“What good would it do? The boy can’t even read?” he chuckled before getting up to light another cigarette.

“We could get him a tutor, Tommy. We can afford it now.” You got up with him preparing for a fight.

“Where does he even stay most days Tommy? I always see him running around the street following Isaiah or in the pub. He should be in school getting an education.” You were starting to work yourself up now. Tommy just sat on the edge of your bed rubbing his hands down his face before tugging on his hair.

“I’ll deal with it.” He grunted and left for his office.

For the next couple of weeks, you saw Finn around the house more, usually in search of food. You had started sitting with him and eating the dinner Tommy would let get cold. You couldn’t help but grow fond of the freckled face smiling up at you. He would always wind up sweet-talking you into giving him desert. After these dinners, you had started sitting with Finn. Both of you would open a book and let him slowly sound out words for himself. You had set up a bedroom for him in one of the spare rooms. You slept better knowing he was safe at night. But it didn’t last.

It was payday so you and the other workers were at the Garrison drinking the money away. The other girls and you had downed a bottle of gin within an hour. You were tasked with getting another in the back of the pub. There you saw the lanky redhead bent over a table cutting Tokyo with an older peaky boy.

“OI, WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?’ You screamed seeing red.

The other boy ran off leaving Finn alone looking as if he’d seen a ghost.

“I-I was just having some fun. Me and boys-’ he stuttered out.

“Fun?! You’re not old enough to have fucking fun. Do you know what that shit does to your head eh? ”You marched over to him and grabbed the blue bottle out of his hands.

“The boys do it when we’re blue sometimes is all.” He winced when you grabbed him by the ear. Dragging him out of the busy pub ignoring the looks from the others you started towards the shop. The door bounced off the wall, shaking the pictures that hung there.

“Sit!” You pointed at the couch in the middle of the living room.

You found Tommy where you’d left him leaned over his desk with a cigarette in his hand. He looked up with his eyebrows pulled together as you barged in.

“Do you know where I found this eh?” You threw the small bottle at him, “ You fucking brother yeah was cutting it up. Fourteen-fucking-years old and doing snow Tommy?! You said you’d handle it.”

“I did-” He started with a drag off his smoke.

“Does it look handled to you, Tommy? Now I’ve tried not to say anything cus I know I’m not blood” Tommy scoffed at that. “But that boy needs some guidance before he ends up on the fucking streets.” You continued pointing towards the door.

“Yeah? Do you think I don't have enough going on?! I can’t run the bloody business, deal with London, Campbell, and chase after Finn all fucking day can I?!” Thomas got out of his chair.

“No you can’t Tom but we can’t just let him run wild either.” You lowered your voice a bit. Yelling at each other would get you nowhere but the silent treatment.

“Then what do you want me to fucking do?” Tommy lowered his voice too but the harshness remained.

“I want him to move in with us. I���m going tomorrow and signing him up for school. We’ll find him a tutor. He’ll have some catching up to do but that's fine.” You crossed your arms across your chest and continued. “He is a smart, sweet boy and it'll be over my dead body that he doesn't do something with ‘is life. He will graduate from school. If he wants to go to uni afterward then he’ll do that too.”

You closed the space between you and your husband grabbing his jaw before kissing him. You felt him relax a bit under you.

“Isn’t that the point of all this? So they can have a better life than us? Finn can have the things we only dreamed of.” Looking into his blue eyes you pleaded with yours.

“ He’ll move in tomorrow and you sign him up for Saint Andrews yeah.” He kissed your temple before leaving out the door to Finn.

It wasn’t easy taking in a teenage boy much less making him go to school. There were many nights spent screaming about homework or crying over mathematics.

But it was worth it because you loved your little family. After you moved out of Birmingham and into Arrow House things got a little better. You got Finn away from the older boys he worshiped. Tommy found him a tutor who came three days a week.

He wouldn’t admit it but he liked having Finn around the house too. The three of you had dinner as a family every night at your repeated request. Tommy and Finn would often ride horses together on the weekends.

You sat reading in the library when you heard Finn running through the halls.

“OI, where do you think you’re going?” You asked as you rounded the corner into the living room.

“A level marks were posted today, yeah? Let me see?” You held out your hand out expectantly. The young boy, well a man now, rocked back on his feet and avoided your gaze.

“It’s okay if you didn’t pass Finn, lots of people have to retake the exams.” You softly smiled.

Finn Arthur Shelby

Writing-B

Reading-A

Arithmetic-C

Nature Study-B

WoodWork-A

“You passed Finn!” You squealed while jumping up and down shaking the paper in the air. You hugged the boy that now towered over you and shook him too. Tommy ran into the room with Mary right behind.

“What? What’s happened?” Your husband asked with wide eyes.

Turning to him with a smile still on your face you started jumping again, “He passed! He passed!”

Tommy looked at Finn who was now grinning too, a blush on his face from the attention. Tom just put a hand on his shoulder and gave a slight nod of his head. That was the equivalent of the show you were putting on for Tommy.

“Finn we are so proud of you! You’ve worked so hard. I’ll have the cook make the custard you like for dessert to celebrate.” You kissed the redhead on the cheek. As you left to tell the cook of your plans you looked back at your two boys sharing a rare embrace. You couldn’t help but feel pride in the man you saw before you.

[sobdasha]

been thinking about the really weird dynamics of the Honda family

and the ways they parallel with the Souma family.

Tohru's relationship with Grandpa Honda has always been really inscrutable to me. It seems like Kyouko liked him quite a lot, and the feeling was mutual, so their relationship ought to be close, right? But despite relying on Grandpa around the time of Katsuya's funeral, I get the impression that Kyouko and Grandpa aren't very close after that? He takes Tohru in after Kyouko's funeral, but doesn't provide a place for her to stay during the renovations, and they don't seem to keep in touch.

I figured this was for the convenience of the plot. If Tohru was close with her grandpa, then she wouldn't have no family, no one left, after her mom died. If Tohru had somewhere else to go, it wouldn't be so vital that she be allowed to keep living in the Souma house.

I've been thinking about Shiki, though, and about Akito and Shigure as parents within the Souma estate, and I'm wondering now if this wasn't actually a parallel playing out in brilliant Takaya fashion.

Starting with a recap, because a summary of info is always useful to me:

Kyouko grows up in a family that is very much about Keeping Up Appearances and Knowing Your Place. Her dad is verbally and emotionally abusive and isn't above slapping people either. Her mother isn't affectionate and doesn't protect her, probably because she's primarily concerned with protecting herself from the fallout when anything sets off her abusive husband. Kyouko has never had her emotional needs met and she's never been socialized to see others as real people with real feelings. Before even 7th grade she's become part of the gang scene in a cry for help and attention, and because these are the only people she can kind of understand. Her father has told her she's kicked out of the house at least once prior before he finally makes good on it and disinherits her at the end of 9th grade.

Katsuya and his younger sister grow up in a family that is also very much about Traditional Values and Keeping Up Appearances. Grandpa Honda is a teacher, and he puts a big emphasis on Proper Manners (and probably also other things like Good Grades, Fitting In, and Knowing Your Place). He's stern and pressures Katsuya to become a teacher as well. We don't know what Katsuya's mother was like, but I'm assuming she was also not particularly affectionate. It's only after her illness and passing, probably when Katsuya is somewhere around 20, that Grandpa Honda reevaluates his life and what's most important to him.

From a young age, Katsuya flew under the radar by heavily masking--ie, he made a cardboard cutout of what society expected him to be, so Polite, Quiet, Respectable, Studying To Become A Teacher, while underneath it all being filled with apathy, resentment, and loneliness. His moral compass is deeply skewed--see his teasing of people, his attitude of looking down on people, his bragging admittance to using his father's influence to get away with things, his creepy expressions that are identical to those of The Root Of All Evil (ie, Shigure). He has no real interpersonal relationships--family, friend, or romantic. He's a 23 year old TA who is fixated on and marries a 15 year old girl because she's the first person he ever recognized as human--he saw her in the middle of a violent meltdown and it was the first time he was ever really struck by the realization that someone else might feel the same feelings he does.

(Which, in addition to the dubious legality and widely-regarded ickiness, is just downright pathetic. I'm sorry, but it's true. Fruits Basket itself backs me up.)

The first parallel that jumps out at me is between the stories of Kyouko and Katsuya, and Ren and Akira:

Ren is an Outsider. We don't know what her family life was before joining the Souma clan, but based on everything about her I feel it's safe to assume it was also abusive. A large percentage of the Souma family is against the marriage, but Akira is adamant because Ren is the first person he's ever connected with. Similarly, the Honda family (save Grandpa) disapproves of Kyouko and she remains forever an outsider to them.

In Kyouko's case, Katsuya is able to ditch his family and start fresh with Kyouko. Ren, on the other hand, has to live within the toxic Souma family to be with Akira. Both husbands die, leaving a grieving widow and child behind. Kyouko treasures her daughter and finds a new reason to live in Tohru, away from the rest of the Honda family; Ren, already jealous of Akito for getting in the way of her relationship with her husband (and not dealing well with being pulled even further into the Souma family bullshit with all this curse stuff), and trapped within the toxic Souma family with no one on her side, chooses to perpetuate the cycle of abuse.

The thing I've been thinking about most is the parallels between Tohru and the Honda family and Shiki and the Souma family:

As I said before, Tohru's relationship with Grandpa Honda is very strange. It's not just me--Yuki and Kyou make comments to this effect also, I'm pretty sure. But I think I can finally make sense of it now, if I think of it in light of Shiki.

I think there are a couple chapters of FBA out there that I haven't read (the one with Akito, and were there other chapters beyond volume 3?), but Mutsuki implies--and I think we should take this at face value--that Akito and Shigure hope that Shiki will leave the Souma family. They are not kicking their child out. They want this as loving parents, who have done their best to raise their child in a good home in the midst of a very toxic environment. I like to think they will do a good job of explaining this to Shiki, explicitly and clearly. Akito could have walked away from the Souma family, but she chose to stay because she had a hand in perpetuating the toxicity and generational abuse in the Souma family and she is taking responsibility for trying to end the cycle. She has finally stepped up as the head of the family. She could have walked away, but she didn't.

Shiki had no hand in making the Souma family what it is. Shiki is not obligated in any way to put up with that bullshit. Shiki can and should walk away from that toxic environment, go somewhere new, and be happy. He and his parents and all his non-toxic relatives can visit and call each other and still maintain relationships, but in healthier places, as everyone learned to do at the end of Fruits Basket.

This, I believe, is what Grandpa is also doing for Tohru. He's just less explicit and messes it up at first.

I don't know exactly why we don't see more of Grandpa's relationship with Kyouko and Tohru after Katsuya's death. Is it because Tohru, as the narrator, is prioritizing Only Me And My Mom stories? Is it because Kyouko didn't want to be a burden (is that part of where Tohru absorbed it)? Is it because Kyouko couldn't maintain a good relationship with Grandpa with the Honda Family Toxicity in the background?

The Honda family toxicity shows up in full force again when Kyouko dies. Tohru is a riceball that doesn't belong in the Honda family fruits basket. No one, save Grandpa, will take her in.

And then he invites his daughter's family, which he knows is toxic and will abuse Tohru, in to live with the two of them.

I don't know who came up with the idea--if it's Grandpa, that's a bit cold, as he should be caring for Tohru. If it's his daughter ("Dad, you're getting older, you should be living with us so we can take care of you") that does make sense, both as a reasonable social expectation (which dad raised her to adhere to) and as a power move (the Outsider shouldn't be getting so cozy with dad, and dad's inheritance, without supervision). I'm leaning towards the daughter, as I don't think the family combining was intended to get Tohru to leave. I think the remodel, though, was something Grandpa Honda saw as a good opportunity to convince Tohru to leave the Hondas.

I think "I'm having the house remodeled and I'm staying with my daughter, but you weren't invited, I could pull my weight or maybe you could find your own accommodations with a friend?" was intended to give Tohru permission to not feel obligated to the Honda family. I think it was intended to let Tohru find someplace she would actually be happy, a found family living situation where she could flourish. I think Granpda sincerely thought Tohru would move in with Hanajima, instead of into a tent, and realize that she was so much happier and fulfilled there that she never came back to the toxic Honda family and had no regrets.

Grandpa's judgment was a little iffy there but he tried.

I'm realizing that, if everyone moved into Grandpa's house because it was bigger, and it's being remodeled specifically for that purpose...the fact that Tohru is sharing a room with her cousin is very significant. Grandpa was so confident, there is no place for Tohru in that house. Tohru was never supposed to come back after the remodel.

(I don't know that much about houses so it's possible that they just didn't have room; depending on whether that's the uncle or the son, you've got to have 4 or 5 separate bedrooms, which I guess could be a lot. But this is a manga, they aren't strictly constrained to realism, and Takaya makes every damn detail count.)

Tohru isn't supposed to come back after the remodel, but she does. She does, and the family is toxic to her, and Grandpa tells her more overtly that she is not obligated to live here out of familial loyalty. If there's somewhere else Tohru is happier, even if it's a really unconventional living situation, she should feel welcome to choose that instead.

Grandpa's a parallel to Akito here. He's been becoming aware, since his wife died, that his priorities were all wrong. That he raised his children wrong. That Katsuya appeared to have no real emotions and had never connected with anyone outside of Kyouko and their daughter. (Maybe he learned to make work friends?? But I doubt it.) That his daughter is judgmental and cares more about the appearance of being proper than about not being rude.

Don't think poorly of him, Grandpa says. Deep down, they're just evil people. But Grandpa recognizes that he had a hand in creating those evil people. And instead of being like Machi's mom, who goes "well maybe I fucked up" and then throws her out of the family, Grandpa takes responsibility for the family he made. He recognizes that he raised his kids in a way that caused them to be shallow and rude and to think of people as means to an end, and he also recognizes that it would be shitty to reject his kids for turning out exactly as he raised them. He has to live with them (and his choices), he says, but Tohru doesn't.

Looking at it like that, I respect Grandpa Honda more. He seemed a bit wishy-washy before--useful for some plot and character development points, but wishy-washy all the same. But it's a tough decision, and having to prioritize people is always shitty. Grandpa not rejecting his daughter means sacrificing a stable home for Tohru. Akito staying as the head of the Souma family so she can ensure the freedom of the former Zodiac means that her child will be subjected to the same generational abuse, no matter how loving and supportive of a home life she and Shigure provide.

But they're both trying to do a right thing in a crappy situation.

And Tohru, like so many of the former Zodiac, does find happiness and fulfillment in the new family she's able to make for herself. She learns to make her world bigger, and she learns that leaving doesn't have to be the same as cutting ties. And so I'm very optimistic that Shiki will find the same.

[visd3stele]

magic and kids

summary:

A/N: I really hope you like it. Thank you for your requests. Loved writing it.

art credit: @phantomrin

TW: none

@britishbookworm2 requested (if you want to leave a request as well, click)

masterlist

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

It's been four years since Taryn decided the mortal world would be a more suitable place to raise her child than Elfhame. Even if her sister was now High Queen, the fairies would still make life hard for her and her baby. Maybe not on purpose, she admits it. But magic runs wild, free and unstoppable. Used to it, the Fae Folk barely notices the dangers. And frankly, they don't care. Not allowed to use it on humans as cruelly as before, some meaner courts claim innocent ignorance. How can an entire society of enchanted beings change overnight? How could they be expected to adjust to human fragility all of a sudden?

So Taryn took her baby, promised her sister to visit and fled to Heather and Vivi's. It wasn't as hard as she'd thought. Getting used to the mortal world, that's it. And if her baby had longer canine than normal, or his ears sharpened to pointy edges to the top, it passed unnoticed. Her son certainly didn't stood out the way Vivi did, even with light brown eyes that looked orange in the sun and rusty red hair. He didn't need much glamouring either, not like Oak, Oriana or Madoc. By the time she sent him to preschool his hair was long enough to cover the ears and no one seemed to notice the teeth even without magic.

For all the talk Taryn did on how she wanted her son to be free of his father in all ways, snapping at Oak when the boy tried to teach him magic before he knew how to properly walk and forbidding her family to bring Fairyland up, she named him Renard.

Fitting, though not what she should have done. Maybe part of her can't let Locke go, not entirely. She knew he didn't particularly wanted the baby, that everything he promised her were pretty lies. But for a few months, it has been real. Their marriage, their love, their lives. She saw her dreams come true, one after another: the mistress of an important household, throwing parties for courtiers, motherhood.

Now that everything she wanted snaped broken in tiny little pieces carried away by harsh winter wind, Taryn Duarte couldn't phantom having her child become like his father.

"It has nothing to do with magic, for fuck's sake!" Vivi exploded once, after Taryn better than not threw Oak and Oriana - who came to visit - out of the apartment for trying to reach Renard's magic. "He won't become a sly, selfish fox if he can change appearance or grow horses out of leaves. It's all about his up-bringing!"

"I want him to be normal, Vivi! That's why I took him here!"

Renard has been barely one year old when the argument happened. But it was enough to take his mother's words to heart.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Four years old Renard and twelve years old Oak played outside, jumping in crusty piles of autumn leaves. The princeling hadn't given up his plans to teach his cousin magic. He refused to let go of such opportunity: a friend he didn't have to hide of, one he could play with like he used to in Elfhame.

"Hey, Ren-Ren," Oak said, "check this out!" The older boy held up his hand, brows furrowed in concentration, lip grazed between his teeth. Nothing happened for an alarming amount of time. And then... the leaves twirl around the two cousins, splashing then with guts of wind and scarce dew as it swept them up in a friendly tornado.

Renard chuckled in delight, stretching to catch some of the closer leaves. But as soon as he touched one, the whole thing fell apart. "No!" Do it again, Oak. Do it again."

"I'm sorry, Ren-Ren," Oak faked a yawned and laid on the ground. "Magic is very serious business. Very consuming. I'm too tired to even move." He let his eyes close dramatically, watching Renard between his lashes. Truth be told, every time he did magic Oak felt good. Vibrant. As if the earth itself reached out and gave him life. But Renard didn't need to know that yet. He can definitely learn it by himself if Oak's plan works out.

The younger boy pouted and dropped on the ground. "Not fair," he muttered to himself.

"You know, Ren-Ren, you're half fae. That means there's a pretty good chance you're magic too."

"No, I'm not."

"You can't know that. Come on, give it a try!"

"No, Oak! I'm not magic. I'm not like Father, I'm like Mom. Like Mom, just like that."

Oak straightened himself, but didn't rose from the ground. "Ok, Ren-Ren. Listen up. Magic is not bad. It's fun. Don't you think it's fun?"

"Yes!" Renard nodded enthusiastically. "It's super fun. When you do it, Oak." At that the named boy own enthusiasm faded away in an instant.

"Thank you, Ren-Ren," he deadpanned. "But do you know what's more fun than watching me practice magic?" Not giving the kid a chance to answer, to even take in the question, really, Oak said "To do it yourself."

"Do you really think I should try, Oak?" Clearly, the little boy was attracted to magic. And clearly something was stopping him. But his older cousin slowly made whatever that was seem less big and scary, dragging him along in his qualms.

"Totally!"

Renard pushed his lips forward with his tongue, sticking it out through the gap in his teeth. Caramel eyes shone with desire, his red hair flown around by a cold, pleasant wind. "Ok," he gave in, as expected. "How do I do it?"

The smirk that lightened up Oak's face can only be describes as evil. Though no ill intention hid behind it. Only the knowledge his plan worked out, just like his sister, Jude's.

"Listen to me very carefully, alright? There is not just one way to make magic, Ren-Ren. You have to find your own. But for now, try the basics. Think really hard on what you want to happen. Something easy. Got anything in mind?" Renard frowned, then his eyes landed on a tree which still had some green leaves on its branches and nodded.

"Perfect! Now, imagine whatever you want to happen. Imagine it happening. Are you imagining?"

"Yes."

"No!" Oak groaned. "If you're paying attention to me, then it means you're not focusing on magic."

"But how will I know what to do if I don't listen to you?"

"I told you! Magic is your own, Ren-Ren. It comes naturally. So, dig it up. Use your imagination."

Renard tried to shut out the world around him, picturing the sole tree in his mind. A warm pull tugged at him and he followed. His magic, he tried not to dwell on the joy, but instead focusing on his practice. His magic reaching out. Because he reached out first.

The boy allowed the warmth to take control, guiding him through it. The tree now carved in his mind by detail wasn't enough. He needed action. But just imagining the leaves to fall wouldn't do. Renard couldn't say how exactly he knew it. He just did. Something more tender was needed. The half fae kid had to imply what he wants and trust his magic to follow his lead.

So Renard made himself cold. Chilly. Feeling a breeze of wind creeping inside his clothes, whipping his skin gently. Enough to rip a leaf off a tree, though. Which it did. The wind he summoned couldn't be felt, not really. Only by himself and the green leaves that departed one by one from their branch as if plucked by an invisible hand.

Oak gasped. Then grinned. And then he laughed. Renard broke free of his concentration, pleased to see his magic didn't falter. Not until every and each green leaf from his chosen tree didn't fall. The sight made him still in awe for a couple of seconds. But soon enough he joined his cousin with a bubble laugh, jumping up and down and running to tackle Oak in a tight hug.

"I did it, Oak! I did it!"

"Yes, you did, Rem-Ren. Indeed, you did. Congrats!"

"Can we show auntie Vivi? And auntie Oriana?"

When Madoc and Oriana first came in the mortal world, Taryn wanted nothing to do with them. But years of being cared for by the blue skinned, white haired, pink eyes woman showed their tale. She agreed to see her, but only her. She could be part of her child life, if she wanted.

"Sure. But don't you want to show your mom first?"

"Mom and auntie Heather work a lot. We can show them later." Renard said, but he felt his magic shrinking at the thought of his mother. His Mom didn't like his father. And his magic comes from his father. Is that why his magic doesn't want to reveal itself near Taryn? He hoped it was just him overthinking it, because he loves his Mom and wants to share this with her.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Oak stayed with auntie Oriana, who was his mother, so Renard couldn't bring himself to be upset over it. He would want to be with his mother as much as he can as well. So he did a little trick for auntie Vivi, who told him to stay where he was, brought a camera and ordered him to glamour the tea cups again. Renard made them look like pumpkins, since the Halloween being over the corner made him impossibly anxious - in a good way.

Turns out even mortal technology can be fooled by fae's magic. Vivi showed the clip to Heather, who coed over him until Taryn came home.

"Hello, treasure. How was your day? Wanna give mommy a kiss?"

Renard jumped into his mother's arms, pressing a strong kiss on her cheek before starting to tell her about all the fun he had with cousin Oak. "And then he said I should try magic too."

Tamryn stilled. "And?"

"Look, Mom!"

Renard broke a vase, then, with a twitch of his fingers put it back together. "Auntie Vivi says I'm a natural."

"Does she? That's amazing, sweetheart."

But his mother didn't sound thrilled. In fact, her smile wasn't even a smile at all, but a thin line. "I'm sorry, mommy. I knew I shouldn't've done it, but I didn't know why. Now I know: you don't want me using my magic. It'll make me bad, like father."

Renard pushed his lips up front, scrunched his nose up, wiggled his toes, all in an atempt to stop the tears hurting his eyes from falling. When he realized it was in vain, he took off running to his room.

When Taryn entered minutes later she found her son curled on his left side in the middle of the bed, hugging a black goat plushie his uncle Cardan gave him on his birthday tight to his chest. She hated herself for causing the pain struck look on her son's face.

"Hey, sweetie."

"Hi, Mom." Renard wiped his nose with his jumper's sleeve.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie. Mommy was just scared, but that's not your fault. You could never be bad. Magic is not bad. Of course you can practice all you want, but we'll settle some ground, basic rules first. Ok?"

"Really?"

"Rules you can never, ever break. Really."

"Thank you, Mommy! You're the best! Just wait until Oak hears about it."

A/N: Renard means fox in french. Also: oops, guess I finished it earlier than expected and didn't really felt like waiting days to post it 😅

[ladycatofwinterfell]

Second of her name

Summary: Arya names her first daughter for her late mother. Something that brings Ned both joy and sorrow.

Wrote an angsty Cat fic a couple of days ago, and now it was Ned’s turn to feel a mix of happiness and agony for about 2000 words. Enjoy!

I'm gonna gift this to @leialannister and @shining-m00nlight for the same reason Bran sends Hodor and Old Nan sweets during the harvest feast in ACoK. No reason but I love them.

The letter laid on his desk, just where he had left it the previous evening. Many times during the night he had considered going to his solar to read it again, perhaps even write his reply. It was more than due. He should have began immediately, but he had been unable to. He had also been unable to sleep.

He picked it up, read it through once more.

Father, I hope you are well. I also hope my brothers are well. I certainly am. Well, I admit I am sore and still in pain, but I am well all the same.

I am pleased to tell you that today my husband and I welcomed our first child. A strong and healthy girl that I have named Catelyn, for my mother. We hope to visit you soon, so that you may meet your first granddaughter.

Take care,

Arya

Ned felt himself smile. Smiling, happiness, was something he had had to relearn. Despite that it had been ten years it was still not something he was quite used to. His children and his grandchildren brought him much joy, that no one could doubt, but every time he saw them he was struck by that there was no one beside him to share the joy with.

Catelyn had dreamed of their family growing, yet she had not been allowed to see Robb’s first child. She had barely seen her last child. Not that the boy had seen much of her either, she had passed mere minutes after his birth. And he had quickly followed. Left behind was Ned together with the five children that remained to him.

Whenever the thought of that crossed his mind it was like the years had never passed, and his grief was still fresh. It was a wound that refused to stop bleeding. One day she had been happy about that soon she would see her babe, the next her cold body had been taken out of her bedchamber so that it could be cleaned for her funeral. It had gone so quickly.

She would have been overjoyed by the letter, he could see it before him. He could almost hear her laughter too.

Our first granddaughter, Ned, can you believe it?

He had trouble doing so. When he was younger he had not thought much about what children he would or would not have. But there he stood with five children and four, soon to be five, grandchildren. Robb had two sons, Sansa had a son and her second child would be born before the year ended. And Arya had a daughter. The small girl who had ran around Winterfell with her wooden sword, her hair messy and her dress dirty, had a daughter of her own. A little Cat.

Catelyn and Arya had clashed with each other often, but there had been more fierce love than anything else there. Arya was so much like Catelyn. Both of them had refused to see it, but it had become very apparent to him as Arya grew older. And he had been told that Catelyn had been more like Arya than Sansa when she was a child.

He sat in his chair, set on writing the letter. It took him long, the words simply didn’t want to come. Every once in a while he stopped, just staring at what he had managed to get down. He had not met his granddaughter, yet his heart was already swelling with love for her. And still it was hard to express that in a short letter. Catelyn had been so good at that, she would have known exactly what to write.

Once he had managed to finish the task he sent for the maester so that it could be sent to Arya. The maester took the letter and once more congratulated him on the little girl.

“I imagine you must be happy with the name Lady Arya chose” he then said.

“It is a beautiful name.”

He did not know what else he could say. Catelyn had been half of his heart, she had held large parts of his life together. He had loved her. And she had been ripped from him. Ripped from their children. Ripped from her life. But he was happy with that Arya had chosen to name her daughter Catelyn.

“I never met the late Lady Catelyn, but I have heard she was a remarkable woman.”

Remarkable was not enough to say what Catelyn had been. There was no word that was enough.

“We all remember her with warmth and love” he said.

Luwin had still been Winterfell’s maester when Catelyn died. He had been the one helping her through the birth, he had been the one who with deep sorrow in his voice declared her dead. Ned could not remember having seen the man in such emotional turmoil before or after that day. All of Winterfell had gone dark that day.

Maester Luwin had passed from sickness the year before. Ned missed him.

When the maester had left him again Ned realized he had not told her about her namesake. And so he found himself crossing the courtyard to go to her sept. Her body, together with her last son’s, had been sent down the White Knife in a burning boat, according to Tully traditions. And she had no statue down in the crypts. At first he had wanted her to have a statue despite that she didn’t have a grave down there, but then he had realized how much she would have hated that. She never liked the crypts, insisted on that it wasn’t her place, that it belonged to the Starks.

He didn’t know if he even would have been able to visit her down there. He had lost his sister to childbirth, and his wife to childbirth. Could he see them stand next to each other, doomed to forever watch over the darkness with eyes of stone?

The sept had been her place. That was where she had found her peace. Ned found no peace there, but he did not know where else to go.

The scent of varying oils and ointments, as well as scented candles, made him nauseous as soon as he had opened the door, but he still entered and closed it behind him. The small sept was empty, as it always was during that time of the day. Despite all the years he had little idea about what to do. He did not know how to pray in a sept, the faith of the seven had so many rules and structures that his faith hadn’t. Though he wasn’t praying to her gods, he was praying to her.

Ned didn’t kneel, he didn’t turn to one of the seven faces. He didn’t even enter the heptagon where the seven statues stood.

You were right in that Arya would have a daughter, he thought.

Once when Arya had asked one of her many questions Catelyn had answered with that she would understand once she had a daughter of her own. Arya had then told her that she would have no daughters, only sons. But she probably hadn’t foreseen that Arya would name that daughter for her.

If the sun had been shining the sept would have been filled by a beautiful light in all the colors of the rainbow, but the day was cloudy and no rays of sunshine came through the stained glass windows. The sun had been out the day the sept was finished and she entered it for the first time. The picture of her smile as she thanked him for it was still vivid before his eyes. He had not loved her then, not yet.

She named her for you.

He remembered how happy she had been the short time she got to hold her babe before she died.

He looks like you, she had whispered.

She had been fading away by then, and she had known it. And so she had made him promise to care for the son and make sure he lived. He had made the same promise that he had made to Lyanna. But he had not been able to keep it, the babe had perished only hours after his mother. After Catelyn left him he had forgotten to give the boy a name. He had died nameless, and Ned had not wanted to give him a name after he was already gone. Catelyn would have hated that, she found names important. And therefore he wanted her to know that Arya had named her daughter.

He did not know what else there was to say. What more there was to tell her. Life went on as usual. The sun had not stopped climbing over the sky, the trees had not stopped growing, and the rivers had not stopped flowing. The world kept going, taking no mind of the loss it had suffered ten years past. He knew that loss though. Every day he woke up and was aware of that loss. It didn’t hurt as much as it had before, but it was still there.

He turned around when the door opened. For a moment he had been so caught up in the mixture of grief and profound happiness that he had forgotten he was not alone in Winterfell.

“Father” Robb said. “I must say I am surprised to find you here.”

He was surprised to find himself in the sept despite that he had been there so many times.

“I can see why” he responded.

His son was quiet as he closed the door.

“You’re here for Mother, are you not?” he then asked.

Ned took a deep breath before nodding.

“She should have been here” he sighed.

Catelyn should have been with him when he received the letter, Catelyn should have been with him during the night, Catelyn should have been with him when he wrote the response, Catelyn should have been in the sept to pray for her granddaughter’s health. And instead she was dead. Instead she was ash at the bottom of a river. Instead he would never again hold her in his arms.

“She should have been here” Robb agreed.

He walked past Ned and stood in the middle of the heptagon. He turned around and bowed his head to all the seven statues.

“I take it you did not pray” he said.

“No. These are not my gods, I don’t how to pray to them.”

“Me neither. Mother was always the one leading us in prayer, and I have forgotten her words, so I have made up my own prayers. The gods accept them too.”

He had made sure of that the children stayed with both their faiths even after Catelyn had died, but he himself had never followed that. He had loved Catelyn, but he held no love for her gods. The godswood was his place, as the sept had been hers. But apparently Robb had brought some of the faith of the old gods into the faith of the seven.

“Have you told your sons about their new cousin?”

Robb smiled then.

“Brynden is too small to understand, but Jonnel is happy. He much looks forward to seeing little Catelyn. I think he needs to be prepared for that he cannot play with her yet.”

“Jonnel is a vigorous boy.”

He was almost worse than Rickon had been. Not that it bothered Ned, he was happy to see laughing children run around in his castle. Jonell was always leading them, wild and curious about most everything.

“He is. He’s also full of questions. And when Alys told him Catelyn was named for his grandmother he wanted to know more about her, I believe she told him to ask you.”

“I shall expect him soon, in other words” Ned chuckled.

“Yes. You need not tell him how she died, but I would appreciate if you could give an answer to what he wants to know.”

“Of course.”

He did not want to talk to anyone of how she had died. The picture of it still reached him in his dreams sometimes, and it was always the same. He walked through an empty Winterfell, reached her chambers and opened the door. She was in her bed, surrounded by her own blood, and she clutched an already dead son to her chest. The moment he stepped into the room she died too.

“Thank you, Father.”

“You need not thank me.”

“Yet I will do it.”

Perhaps it was only because Catelyn was on his mind that Ned believed Robb sounded much like his mother in that moment.

“I’ll leave you to your prayers” Ned said.

He left the sept, breathed deeply of the fresh air outside. It was cool, most likely snow would start falling soon. It was a good day. A new Stark had been born. Little Catelyn wouldn’t be a Stark in name, but she had the Stark blood. And she was named for his wife, Lady Catelyn of Winterfell. Catelyn wouldn’t be forgotten, her memory would live on.

Oh the things he would have given to have her back. Oh the pain of knowing that it was impossible. And oh the happiness of knowing that soon he would hold a granddaughter in his arms.

[broadstbroskis]

the countdown | kevin hayes

a/n: @hockeynetwork ran another wonderful fic exchange this season! i had the lovely @fanfics-for-the-hockey-fan and one of the questions i asked you was for your favorite tropes. you gave me “families are super close and have a bet going on who realize they are in love with each other first.” this is...not quite that 😂 but similar and i hope you enjoy anyway 💚

8:43 pm

Olivia slams her car door shut and checks her watch, swearing as she jogs around to the passenger side to gather everything she’s brought. Besides her activity ring judging her for not meeting her goal, she’s late and she’s going to take so much shit for that.

She practically jogs to the door (or, well, as best as she can in her high heeled booties), plate of her famous chocolate chip cookies in hand, and then stops abruptly right on the front porch when the door opens before she can do it herself.

There goes her hope of just sneaking in.

It’s Jimmy. Of course, it’s Jimmy, with that classic Hayes shit-eating grin on his face as he greets her, even though this isn’t even his fucking house. “Livvy! Rolling in 45 minutes late even though you’re the closest one here.”

“This is honestly so rude of you.” She complains, even as she pulls him in for a hug. She wouldn’t have expected any less from Jimmy, who gives her just as much shit as her own older brother does and always has, ever since they were all kids growing up together in Dorchester. “This is how you treat me, after I show up here with cookies I made especially for you?”

His eyes light up, like she knew they would, even though they both know they’re not just for him. But her chocolate chip cookies are a big hit with all of them, and instead of calling her out on it, he reaches for the plate. “I’ll just take those from you now; put them somewhere safe.”

Olivia laughs. “Nuh-uh. Lemme in; it’s cold as fuck out here.”

Jimmy finally steps aside so she can follow him in the doorway, and only then does Liv hand him the plate of cookies, so that she can take off her coat, revealing the sparkly tank she’d dragged out of her closet just for the evening. “Where’s the champagne?” She pouts, as he leads her on a familiar route deeper into the house. “You came to greet me at the door and didn’t even bring me bubbly?”

“Kristin probably drank it all already.” He jokes, which is straight blasphemy, because she knows his wife set aside at least two bottles just for the two of them to share the minute she walked in the door. 

“My girl would never!” Olivia says confidently, and sure enough, the second the two of them walk into the family room to join the rest of the families, his wife is holding up two flutes of champagne with a large smile on her face.

“Livvy!” Kristin cheers and Liv finds herself being pulled into the blonde for a hug and a glass of champagne being thrust into her hand before anyone in her own family can even say hello to her. “You’re here, finally.”

“Oh my god!” Olivia takes a sip of her champagne and rolls her eyes, exasperated. “Every person in this room has been more late to something than I am right now! Jack’s never showed up to Thanksgiving on time or without a hangover in his life and nobody says shit!” She deflects to her younger brother, who holds his hands up innocently.

“We’re not talking about me right now, Livvy.” The grin on Jack’s face widens, somehow. “We’re talking about you lying to all of us.”

She’s absolutely taken aback by that because she hasn’t? She’d panicked in the group chat earlier about getting stuck on a call at work, and then stuck in traffic, which set her back getting ready to come over here and meet all of them. She would have been on time. She’s always on time. “What are you talking about?” She frowns, as a tall person drops an arm around her shoulders and squeezes. “I haven’t lied to anyone.” She looks over at Nolan and pulls a face at him, and then laughs as he deadpans one back to her. 

She’d been sure that her long time best friend’s roommate had hated her when they first met, but Kevin had been quick to assure her that was just how Nolan was. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that was true. Beneath Nolan’s resting bitch face that put hers to absolute shame, was an absolute sweetheart; she hated having to admit she was wrong to Kevin. 

“To anyone?” Jimmy and Mike, Liv’s older brother, are looking at each other with this ridiculous look of both disbelief and mocking. “Not lying about anything?”

“You saw me literally last week?” She addresses her brother. She’d gone home for Christmas; they’d sat with all their cousins at their grandmother’s and had a great time, just like always. “What the fuck are you on?”

“Olivia!” Her mom snaps, half-heartedly, not even looking away from the conversation she’s having with Liv’s dad and Kevin’s parents. 

But Mike merely grins at her. “I don’t know, Liv.” He says, as she’s lifted off the floor and twirled around. “You tell me.”

But she can’t really hear anything he says after that, too busy laughing and shoving at Kevin, trying (unsuccessfully) to get him to put her down. He does, finally, but leaves his arm around her shoulders, even when she tries to shove her shoulders against him in retaliation (a wildly unsuccessful attempt, he goes absolutely nowhere, she really just ends up bringing herself closer to him).  “Here’s my girl!”  Kevin cheers, shaking her enough that she almost spills what’s left in her champagne glass (and she would have killed him for wasting such a commodity). “ I told you to take off today.”

“Ugh, I wish I could have.” Except they have this huge launch in the first week of the year and they’re still putting finishing touches on, so that was absolutely not happening. It’ll be a miracle that they finish on time as it is. She’s going to pop so much champagne once this goes off.

Kevin, who’s definitely familiar with this work project that she’s been bitching about for months now, laughs; he knows she couldn’t take off earlier, even if she’d really wanted too, and he squeezes her shoulders once. “A few more days and you’re done. Forever.” She clinks her glass against his beer in a cheers. Bless. “Thank god.” He continues. “I don’t like the person you are when you’re 3am deep in emails, Livvy.”

“Lies.” She elbows him, the only time she can really get some leverage against him, when her bony elbow manages to find the spot just under his ribcage. “You love me all the time.”

“Well that’s cute.” Mike says, in that dangerous voice that Liv always finds hard to read. “Just the nicest couple of liars.” And it’s the way he says couple, that really does it for her, but it goes right over Kevin’s head, if the way he just leads her to the kitchen to put down her cookies and get a plate of food, is any indication.

-----

9:23 pm

“Okay, spill.” Kristin says, the second she manages to get Liv alone, not a terribly easy feat, as Liv’s been doing everything she can to avoid that. 

“Spill what?” Kristin’s got that look in her eyes, like she’s not going to let this go...whatever this is.

“Whatever’s going on with you and Kev.”

Olivia blinks. “There’s nothing going on with me and Kev.” Except that’s maybe not exactly true. It’s not a lie- there’s definitely nothing going on between them. They’re still friends, definitely still friends. But...there’s definitely not nothing between them either.

There’s too many late nights on one of their couches, spent doing absolutely nothing but talking. Too many lingering touches that don’t lead anywhere. Too many glances across a crowded room where she feels like a magnet is pulling her there in the first place, and then can’t seem to pull herself away.

So like. There’s not nothing. But nothing’s changed; they’re still goofy Kevin and organized Liv, best friends taking on the world (in Philly, now; together again, finally).

“Bullshit.” Kristin calls her out, but Liv’s saved by the arrival of one of Kevin’s sisters, who tries to wrangle them in for a picture before they all become too messy later.

It’s an easy reminder though, of how well these people all know her. So it’s probably time to lock it down for the night.

-----

10:05 pm

It’s quiet in the kitchen, where Olivia has made herself busy cleaning up after stopping in the bathroom. She’s gathered up leftovers of anything that needs to be put away, separated into bags and containers for everyone to take home, and then started on the dishes, when suddenly she feels a finger poke her side, before an entire arm wraps around her stomach.

“Stop that.” Kevin murmurs into her ear, trying to tug her away. “They’ll still be dirty for us tomorrow.”

“It’s fine.” She fights against him. “The whole thing took me like, five minutes.”

“You’ve been gone for fifteen.” Kevin says, wrapping his other hand around her waist and lifting her away from the sink. “And that’s not the point.”

He sets her down on the other side of the counter; the sink’s not even in reach anymore. She gets her revenge by wiping her wet hands on his henley, but Kev doesn’t even blink, still staring down at her. “I was almost done!” She protests.

“We can clean the kitchen tomorrow.” Kevin says calmly. “Come hang out with us. I know you’ve got this thing about cleaning and order and shit but I swear to God, Nols and I are not going to fight you on this; you can put everything back wherever you want to put it tomorrow.”

Liv bites her lip so he won’t see her laugh, but of course he knows and a grin immediately stretches across his face. “I’m going to hold you to that.” She says. “I’m finally reorganizing your spice shelf.”

“It’s chaos and we like it that way.” Kevin grins and it’s only when she shakes her head, and the ends of her hair actually hit his face does she realize how close he is.

“It’s anxiety-inducing,” She corrects, smiling right back as Kevin brushes her hair back from her face. “And I don’t know how you two ever get any food made here.”

“Meal service.” Kevin shrugs, but his voice is almost overshadowed by the sound of a gasp behind her.

When she and Kevin both go to look though, the hallway is empty, and Liv shrugs right back at Kevin, before they both grab fresh drinks and join their families again.

-----

11:18 pm

Once Nolan eliminates her from the annual beer pong tournament (fuck him AND his bony elbows that were definitely over the line), Liv drapes herself over her mom’s shoulders and squeezes. Across from her, the Hayes’ both laugh, and her dad just rolls his eyes fondly, but Olivia knows her mom and knows she doesn’t care.

In fact, she welcomes it. Her mom squeezes her hand and she’s grinning, always happy for these moments with her children. “Tough loss, kid.”

“It’s fine.” Liv says, not at all bitter. “Nols is a cheating cheater who cheats. Kev will avenge me.” He’s already up by three cups; it’s looking pretty good.

There’s more laughter, and then her mom is squeezing her hand again. “We’re really happy for you, you know.” 

Liv’s a little tipsy, so she doesn’t really question the strangeness of that statement. She kisses her mom’s cheek and hugs her again. “Love you guys too!” She says, and then goes back to watching Kevin clean up for the rest of this game.

-----

11:55 pm

With five minutes to midnight and Kristin crowned as this year’s beer pong champ, the attention turns to the countdown and a flutter of activity toward preparing their traditional midnight champagne toast. 

Olivia accepts her glass from her mom and then wanders off to find her phone quickly, dead set on getting a picture of the toast for an instagram post in the morning. It’s still in the kitchen, where she’d left it when cleaning earlier, and she grabs it off the counter, ignoring most of the messages on there in favor of checking the one from Kristin (what she could possibly have to say when she’s literally across the room…).

It’s not actually a text; it’s a picture. A picture of Liv and Kevin, right after Kevin had beaten Nolan at beer pong. She’d thrown herself at him; he’d lifted her up in celebration, both of them laughing and cheering.  They look happy and perfect and like something...it’s practically a boyfriend filter...except it’s two of them, her and Kevin.

Definitely not nothing.

“Whatcha looking at?” Kevin’s voice surprises her; she’d been so focused she hadn’t even heard him come up to her.

Liv’s so not the risk taker in this friendship; Kev’s the one dragging her out to new places and new things while she’s the one telling him to take a step back and think things through. And yet, even though it’s the scariest thing in the world to show him, it somehow doesn’t feel like she’s diving in headfirst at all as she tilts the screen a little for him to see. “Kristin sent me this.” 

Even though he’s standing right next to her, Kevin still takes a step closer and his free hand, the one not holding his flute of champagne, slides around her waist. “Hey!” He grins, squeezing her gently. “It’s us!”

“Yeah,” She says, much more quietly. “It is.”

He’s quiet for a moment then, but doesn’t move away either. “It’s a good picture of us.”

“It is.” She repeats, agreeing.

“That’s not why you showed me this, is it?”

“No.” Liv swallows the lump in her throat nervously. “It’s not.”

“Livvy.” Kevin says gently and that’s it. That’s all it takes for her to open up.

“I’m so tired of this, Kev.” She shakes her phone, like that’s going to explain everything. “This-this in between thing. This more than friends, but not quite more. I hate it here! I hate looking at this picture and seeing what Kristin sees but knowing that what she sees is wrong. I hate the uncertainty, I hate feeling like there’s this thing but then neither of us does anything, so it just lingers.” She takes a breath, set on continuing, but Kevin jumps in before she can.

“You just hate not knowing something.” He grins.

“Kevin.” Liv snaps crankily, but before she can say anything else to him, he’s pressing her back against the counter and kissing her.

She’s vaguely aware of her champagne crashing to the ground, never more thankful for the fake plastic flutes that their moms always insist on, but Liv really can’t be bothered, even by spilled champagne, as she grips Kevin’s hips to pull herself closer and sinks into a truly amazing first kiss.

“Aw, hell yeah!” She hears from behind her, and pulls away reluctantly, noting the equally annoyed look on Kevin’s face. “I knew it, let’s go!”

It’s Jimmy, looking entirely too pleased to find his brother making out against a counter than he eats off all the time. Actually, it’s all of them- Jimmy, Kristin, Nolan, her brothers, Kevin’s sisters, their parents. All staring at them with bright grins on their faces and bickering.

“I told you-”

“We all fucking knew-” Jack shoves at Mike.

“-they’ve been together for ages.”

“Hey, back up! Just because they were making out now, doesn’t mean they’ve been together for ages; I had New Year’s in the pool!” Nolan pouts.

“I’m sorry,” Liv says, apparently sounding terrifying enough that every one of them stops talking. “There was a pool?”

Every one of them freezes, but for barely a moment, before they’re all talking over each other again and bumping into each other in their haste to back up. “Come on, we’re not even going to ask when this happened?” She hears Jack complain. “There’s $500 on the line here!”

“It’ll stay that way.” Kevin calls and Liv buries her face in his chest to hide her laugh. “Not telling you now!” A few groans echo back into the kitchen as he looks down at her to confirm her agreement. “We’re not telling them...ever, right?”

“Oh, it’s you and me to the grave.” Liv confirms, pulling him down for another kiss.

[royivia]

The Neighborhood

Sibyl Campbell wasn’t even mad when she woke up on a hot ass May morning in her room, drenched in sweat. Instead, she bypassed anger and went straight to resignation because the HVAC system in the Robert Moses Houses was broken — again — and she didn’t have the time or the energy to bitch about it. In fact, the heating and cooling stayed shutting off across Groundview Gardens. It had become a predictable kind of disappointment in the neighborhood, more so than flooding during superstorms or the fact that no matter which part of the neighborhood you were in, you could feel the rumbling of the shuttle every seven minutes.

Sibyl had spent all night coughing and turning in her bed from the claustrophobic heat that agitated her asthma. Her mother had already gone to work, otherwise, she would have heard Mildred Campbell yelling in indignant patwa over the phone at an Arcadian Realty & Management representative “to fix the damn AC” before she threatened to call 311 on their ass, and report them to the city. Both Mildred and the AR&M rep knew it was an empty threat, but to shut her up, they’d call someone who’d tinker with the system and the air would come back on for a couple of days or so, before it chipped out. And then, the routine would start again.

Sibyl checked the weather. It was already ninety-five degrees. She took a puff from her inhaler and scrolled through her timeline. The same picture of a little girl with a big bright smile captioned with different variations of “RIP Destiny’’ and prayers for her family flooded her feed. Sibyl forced herself out of bed. The sweat on her body made her feel uncomfortable. She hauled a clunky, old portable air conditioner out from her closet and plugged it into the wall. Management would fine them for the spike in their energy use, but she didn’t care. She pushed the power button on, and waited for the box to cough out some hot air before it eventually cooled the room down from a humid haze to a lackluster lukewarm.

#

SOIL had been trying to meet with AR&M, the neighborhood’s collective management company, about the HVAC problem with little to no success for close to three years. They had circulated petitions. Tried shaming them in the local news. They even considered organizing a rent strike, which would have done nothing because everybody who lived in Groundview Gardens received subsidies from the city that made rent practically free. And as much as people were pissed about freezing their asses off in the winter or not being able to breathe during the summer, nobody was tryna fight free rent. So, SOIL decided to annoy the shit out of their landlords instead. On their way into their coolly ventilated corporate office buildings, occupying their lobbies, picketing in front of their luxury condos, and most effectively, managing to damage one, or two, of their solar-powered generators in the hottest month New York City had ever seen. A few arrests and some pissed off rich people later, management finally agreed to hold a town hall to hear from their tenants, which meant SOIL’s next plan of action was to convince as many people as possible to show up. Nefi Ramos saw it as a challenge that they could surely accomplish. Her neighbors were like camels to water in a desert. They were thirsty, and had learned to go without for as long as they needed to, but lead them to a watering hole, and they would drink.

“It’s too fucking hot,” she shouted into her megaphone. She was standing in front of one of the many large screens around Groundview that cycled between ads for things they couldn’t afford and AR&M’s infamous “neighborhoods of tomorrow” promotional video. Most people just used the screens to check train arrival times and the air quality. The next shuttle was two minutes away, and the air was currently “unsafe for vulnerable groups.”

“Are we just supposed to take this shit?” Nefi asked. “We don’t deserve to live like this.”

Around her, the rest of SOIL handed out cold bottles of water, popsicles, and fruit cups from coolers filled with melting ice, along with flyers to people walking towards the train platform. They walked past the demonstration uninterestedly, only stopping long enough to take a bottle of water. Everyone had gotten used to Nefi shouting at them to care about things beyond their control, and learned to tune her and the rest of her angry SOILders out, taking their flyers every now and then only to chuck them into the nearest trash can. This morning, a few people did stop to listen for a second or two, the heat getting the better of them, before they saw the time flicker on the screen behind her, and realized that they’d be late for work.

Sibyl, her camera always strapped to her body, snapped a few shots of her neighbor. Nefi was like a loud older cousin who wasn’t afraid of a little trouble, or frankly anything. She both awed and terrified Sibyl.

“It’s time for these slumlords to sweat,” Nefi went on. “We need to organize. Our voices are stronger together — ”

“What makes you think anyone gives a shit about what happens to us down here?”

Mr. Solomon had been on his way to the bodega to buy his morning loosie, but stopped to sit in his walker, taking a moment to catch his breath.

“That’s exactly what they want us to think, vecino.” Nefi softened her voice in that way she did when she was trying not to shout. “The more we believe that we can’t make them pay attention to us, the longer they get away with treating us like shit.”

“I remember when they first moved people into Groundview.” In the midst of reminiscing, Mr. Solomon started coughing aggressively, prompting someone to hand him a bottle of water which he drank quickly before continuing. “We were protesting and shouting in the streets, but they didn’t care then. They’re not gonna care now.” The history lesson quickly turned into yet another heated debate about neighborhood politics between him and some of the other SOILders trying to convince him to take one of their flyers. Sibyl used the opportunity to catch Nefi’s attention, who waved her over enthusiastically.

“Yo, did you hear?” Nefi handed her a fruit cup. “We finally got a meeting with the overlords! Are you gonna come?”

“Nahhh, Nefi. You know that’s not really my thing…I’m not an activist.” Nefi was always trying to recruit her for some radical ass shit that just never seemed worth the trouble of explaining to Sibyl’s very Jamaican mother.

“Nobody said you had to be. You live in this neighborhood, and have just as much say about what happens in it as the suits who own it.” Nefi sensed Sibyl’s hesitation. “Please Sib! Come so we have more people in the room. You don’t have to say anything. We just want those dicks to see that we have power. People power!”

Nefi was very proud of the fact that she had an uncle, or it might have been a second cousin, who had been a member of the Young Lords and, drawing on their legacy of fighting for the liberation of Puerto Ricans, was always going on about the oppressive nature of renting, and self-determination for poor people, and community empowerment, and, and…

“Aight — I’ll go,” Sibyl assured her, trying to cut her sermon short. Nefi hugged her and thanked her a million times before shoving a stack of flyers into her arms to pass out and post up around the neighborhood.

#

The singular garden in Groundview Gardens was usually ten degrees cooler than anywhere else in the neighborhood. It was created — not by the architects who had designed New York City’s newest development, but instead — by the community out of desperation as an escape from their cramped apartments. During the days, the older folks used it to grow their herbs, medicines, and flowers for their healing practices. The local farmers grew produce that fed the community. After school and on the weekends, all the kids hung out at the community center at the heart of the garden where they learned to dance, make art, and play music.

By the time Sybil got there later that night, Groundview’s collective of artists had already transformed the greenspace into their Saturday night hangout. One of the DJs was spinning records. People were dancing, drinking, smoking, having a good time. Dante, Sage, and Felix had bottles in their hands when Sibyl joined them at their usual spot. Their clothes were covered in colorful patches of spray paint.

“Did you finish it? When do I get to see it?,” she asked them excitedly. She hadn’t seen her friends in about a week, which meant they were either done with their latest mural or were taking a break before they disappeared for another few days. “Soon.” Dante looked tired, but excitement danced in his eyes. “Shoot anything good lately?” He leaned in reaching for her camera, but she quickly pulled back from him.

He laughed at her and took a sip of beer. Dante was her oldest friend out of the trio. There was a quiet protectiveness between the two of them Sibyl hoped they could always maintain.

“It’s been a minute since I last checked.”

“How come?” Dante asked.

Sibyl usually couldn’t wait to hold herself up in the darkroom at the community center to develop her film, but she had been putting off her latest batch. She’d fallen in love with photography while taking classes at the center as a kid. So much so that one day, her mother came home with an old film camera and Sibyl never put it down. That first summer, she ran around the neighborhood asking to take people’s photos. It felt so natural to her, though it had taken a while to gain people’s trust. Take their pictures for what? What was she going to do with them? Skeptics, but curious, they eventually agreed. They’d uncomfortably pose or force a smile, and then immediately ask her to see it because if they didn’t look good, she’d have to delete it. Then she’d explain how film photography worked, and they’d cuss her out for wasting their time.

Weeks later, she’d find them again — at the corner store, or at the People’s Garden, and give them the glossy prints she’d developed. Through her lens she could see they were secretly afraid she’d see the things they’d all spent so much time and concern trying to hide. But those things would all melt away when they’d see themselves — some for the first time — with the same worth and value she saw in them. After that Sibyl didn’t have to ask. They booked her for quinces and graduation parties and engagement photos. People would stop her when they saw her around. “So you not gonna take my picture? Girl, you know I look good today. Quit playing and snap something quick,” and they’d pose with more pride than before, as if to officially celebrate the triumph of living, something they didn’t know they had accomplished until they saw proof.

After seeing so many of her neighbors’ pictures, some of which she took, circulate in online memorials, something lodged itself in the pit of Sibyl’s gut. She couldn’t fully identify what it was, but it left her with little energy to feel or do anything else outside of going to school and work. But she didn’t know how to explain that to her friends without being weird or bringing down the mood, so she just said, “Been busy with school.” She quickly changed the subject before anyone tried to press her on it.

“Are ya gonna go to the town hall?”

“What town hall?” Sage asked.

“The one with management. About the HVACs.” Sibyl handed them flyers from her bag. “I promised Nefi I’d go, but I don’t want to go by myself. Someone come with me?”

“Pass,” Felix snorted.

“I’ll go. Should be fun,” Sage said with a smirk on their face. “I wanna hear what those assholes say their excuse is for not fixing shit.”

“I’ll save ya the trip. Sorry, you’re too poor for us to care,” Felix mocked. “It’s not like they’re all of a sudden gonna have a conscience ya know.”

“You mad negative bro,” Dante said.

“What?” Felix asked animatedly. “You really trying to spend the rest of your life down here? We all need to focus on getting the fuck up outta here instead of asking them to fix some janky ass vents.”

It’s not like anybody was trying to spend any part of their lives in Groundview, but lately it seemed like the rest of their lives wouldn’t take so long. The sound of the shuttle, more muffled than anywhere else, reverberated throughout the garden.

“I’m out the first chance I get,” Dante admitted. His answer wasn’t surprising to any of them, but this was the first time Sibyl heard him say it out loud. Dante was one of the more talented and disciplined artists in the collective. It would only be a matter of time before he blew up and left.

“What happens when ya leave though?” Sage was upset. “You get out, but what about the rest of us? Not everybody can up and leave right? Shouldn’t we try and make shit better for everyone.”

“That’s a trap, Sage. Shit’s not gonna get better,” Felix said harshly. “Does it ever hit ya, like really hit ya that there’s no future for us here? Everybody’s so busy working to get by, we don’t even have time to realize how fucked up everything is.”

“I’m not saying it’s perfect.” Sage shot back. “I just don’t think we have to turn our back on our community. That’s fucked up.”

“Don’t take it so personally, Sage,” Dante cut in. “Nobody’s turning their backs on anyone.”

“Besides, no offense to Nefi n ‘em,” Felix said, “but everybody’s wasting their time if they think those suits are gonna fix anything.”

Sibyl listened quietly. Groundview was all they ever knew. She had never considered leaving it, and yet she also was afraid to admit that she thought Felix might be right.

#

The middle school auditorium only had like fifteen people — half were members of SOIL — in there that Tuesday night, which was more than Nefi had expected. The handful of people who told her they wanted to go to the town hall, but couldn’t, were either working, or would get home too late from work and would have to cook dinner or iron school uniforms for the next day. Everyone else couldn’t be bothered; like Felix, they thought it was a waste of time. That nothing would come from it. Sibyl didn’t show. No one who attended the town hall actually thought anything would come from it either. If AR&M had wanted to do something, they would have done it a long ass time ago. The people who did show up were mostly Nefi’s elderly neighbors who were always ready to spit their anger into a mic because if they weren’t going to get a solution, they would at least get to cuss someone out, and have an audience to witness it.

Nefi worked her way around the room to thank people for coming. These things always felt like family reunions to her. Old friends hugging and catching up because they hadn’t seen each other in a minute, with work and family and life moving everybody in this or that direction, even though they all still lived in the same neighborhood. She finished up her greetings and joined the rest of SOIL, huddled at the front of the room. They went over the order of speakers, before Benjy, the group’s designated peacemaker for the evening, asked everyone to quiet down and get seated so they could start. He reminded everyone to keep it civil. Then one by one, people got up to the mic to direct their anger at the empty faces in tailored suits, sitting at the table in front of them, who could all care less about the people shouting at them. There was a lot of finger snapping, and “that’s right” and “tell-em’s” from the crowd throughout.

Finally about half an hour in, a young woman, with a little girl clutching on to the left side of her body, got up to the mic.

“My name is Mercy Brooks, and this is my daughter Angelique.” Her voice was shaking, in that soft, angry, pissed off kinda way that warranted attention. Nefi hushed the crowd down so that she could speak her peace without interruption. “My daughter’s asthma acts up almost every day. She can’t breathe. Ya should be fucking ashamed of yaselves. Our babies are dying down here. Is that what we deserve because we can’t do better? We just supposed to take that shit. You ever thought about what it’s like to live down here, huh? I’m sure ya don’t cause if you did, you wouldn’t think it was right to keep people living like this. Or do ya not care cause it’s not your kids?”

There was silence from the table, which was worse than feigning any sympathy or remorse. It set the room off into chants, which meant it was over from there. AR&M security shut that shit down quick right on cue, and if you weren’t arrested that night, you were brusquely escorted out. Management promised to set up some vague kind of task force with representatives from the neighborhood, but it led to nothing. A fucking disappointment, that’s what that shit was. And it wasn’t a surprise to Nefi or anyone else, but it hurt all the same. A few weeks later, that same woman who got up and spoke, her daughter Angelique died because they couldn’t get her to the hospital in time after she had an asthma attack. AR&M still hadn’t fixed the vents in their housing complex. And they still didn’t change the filters or fix the ducts in the other housing complexes so that it wouldn’t happen again after that. SOIL kept trying to drum up some kind of anger. Anything to get people to feel something. To do something.

Murals of Destiny, Angelique, and every other person who had died that year quietly popped up around the neighborhood. Vigils and altars with flowers and prayer candles accompanied them. But as much as people were upset or sad, no one knew what else to do except mourn and move on because it was clear to everyone that no one gave a damn about them. And so, what was the point?

##

They called it the Subterranean Housing and Inner-City Tunnels project, or S.H.I.T. for short. A plan to provide affordable housing for everyone who had experienced the worst housing crisis New York City had ever seen. People were evicted left and right. Families were priced out of their homes and neighborhoods. The shelter system, swelled beyond its limits for decades, finally collapsed. The streets and subway were overrun with people in sleeping bags and blankets. So nothing new, but it finally annoyed enough people to warrant action.

Naturally, the city contracted its most blood thirsty developers, AR&M, to help solve the problem, which was kinda like asking an arsonist to put out a fire they had proudly started. To no one’s surprise, they didn’t want to forfeit any of their luxury condos that sat empty while people slept on the streets. Instead, they struck a deal to create the largest scale of public housing of its kind, in exchange for absolute, unregulated freedom. The only problem was there was literally no land left for them to develop because they had already bought it all. And then one day, the chief architect of S.H.I.T. had an epiphany when he felt the uptown 6 train rumbling beneath his feet. There was an entire part of the city he had yet to consider. Where a majority of the people who needed housing were already living. Sprawling housing complexes with multi-unit apartments appeared overnight 150 feet underground, with the pilot site in the South Bronx. A new subway station and miles and miles of foot tunnels connected New York’s newest neighborhood to the world above it.

There were protests, anger, outrage! That the country’s most progressive city could so blatantly, and quickly!, shove all of its poor people out of sight only seemed to bother the poor people because everyone else praised S.H.I.T. as the most innovative solution of the 21st century. New York City had done the impossible, and housed every single person. That was grounds for celebration and federal funding. Plans were quickly announced to roll S.H.I.T. out across every major city in the country. To ease people’s concerns, the mayor at the time, eyeing a presidential run, promised that his own city’s underground neighborhood would just be temporary — transitional housing at best. Transitional to what, no one could answer. Temporary until when? Until they could think of something else. One year became five, became ten, etc., etc.

In time, AR&M and the city eventually added a couple schools, a hospital, a library, and a sad excuse for a park that residents eventually turned into the People’s Garden. Folks opened up bodegas, 99 cent and liquor stores, and made themselves at home. It didn’t take long to accept living where they did as another fact of life because they had no other choice. Over time, the plan to move everyone back aboveground disappeared from the city’s housing briefings. Then, the briefings disappeared altogether. The high rates of asthma and chronic bronchitis that seemed to come from living in Groundview occasionally made the nightly news, but not enough to cause major concern or stop neighborhoods like Groundview from popping up across the country.

There were still those who remembered life before Groundview, and vowed to move out of the neighborhood as soon as the opportunity arrived. They kept the dream close to their hearts. And if it didn’t happen during their lifetimes, they’d make sure it would happen during their children’s. More realized it was a fool’s dream and moved on. Eventually though, everyone adapted to the vibrations of the shuttle inside their kitchens. The white, fluorescent lighting that lit every corner of their world like a harsh, artificial sun. The damp, muggy air that arrested their chests if they tried to breathe too freely. And the humming of the massive ventilation systems that heated and cooled their cramped, windowless apartments — when they decided to work.

#

An Artist’s Treatise on Survival

I don’t know how we do it sometimes. That is, put up with all the shit that life throws at us. Work jobs that exhaust us with little in return. Take care of our families with little to no support. Do so much with so little. And still be able to smile or laugh in the midst of it all. Then, I remember: it’s because we have to. No one else is gonna pay our bills if we don’t. No one else is gonna put food on our tables for us. No one’s gonna bail us out. Naturally, you learn to hustle. To channel your frustrations into working around the way things are because trying to fix things that were built broken takes time you don’t have when you’re just trying to get by.

What gets me even more is how we’ve perfected survival itself as an artform, and created whole new types of living from abject desperation. We wasn’t supposed to, much less find reasons to enjoy life, but we did anyway. Some even take on the added challenge of trying to make life more bearable, more enjoyable, for the rest of us. For example, sometimes when it felt like there wasn’t much to appreciate. That you were resigned to the fate of being alive and not living and didn’t deserve any better. You’d see a mural. On the way to the laundromat. Or the corner store. While you were running errands. Or walking home, bone tired, from the train after another long, shitty day at work. And like all good, beautiful things, it reminded you to breathe. You didn’t always know who created it. Or couldn’t remember if it was there the day before even though you’ve walked that way millions of times. You just knew that it was, in its own way, encouraging you to make it to tomorrow. Bright bursts of color and story interrupting the mundane, tiresome every day you’d come to accept with no protest. After a while, it becomes easier to accept a simple truth about living. That we can still manage to find a reason to laugh, to enjoy life, despite it all, and that we can be the source of our own power. It’s kind of audacious of us to still try and find joy even if it means creating it for ourselves. Maybe that’s why we do it.

#

At first, it started off as harmless tagging, and they kept it up chasing the thrill of not getting caught. Then they tried to outdo each other. It became a sport: who could paint the better mural. Get the most buzz around the neighborhood before they got painted over. But the better they got, and the more the murals looked legit, the longer they stayed up. Until they stopped painting over them altogether because people loved them so much. They didn’t belong to the creators anymore. They belonged to the neighborhood. And before they knew it, they’d created something much bigger than any of them could have imagined.

The tunnels just seemed like the next natural step for the graffiti artists in Groundview. Miles and miles of blank walls? Dante, especially, saw something to keep him busy after his brother died. Besides, painting murals felt like the only thing he could do. He’d stopped going to school. He’d just paint. When he ran out of ideas to paint, he asked Sibyl to see her portraits, and he started replicating them across the neighborhood. He was relentless — portrait after portrait. Sage and Felix started helping him out because they worried he would lose it, spending all that time in the tunnels by himself. He was grasping for something, but he didn’t know what it was. Until he saw it, lying on the ground near a garbage can.

The Groundview Residents’ List of Demands

The People of Groundview Gardens demand financial and social restitution for all residents, especially those who developed chronic health issues from living underground and/or have lost loved ones because of it.

The People demand New York City move all Groundview residents back above ground into rent subsidized apartments.

The People demand New York City disband all underground housing policies so that no one else has to live in Groundview Gardens or any other housing project like it.

Until the first three demands are met, The People demand Arcadian Realty & Management fix the HVAC systems in every single housing complex it owns and regularly maintain them.

Once Groundview Gardens is fully evacuated, The People demand New York City turn the entire neighborhood into a public memorial to commemorate the loss of life, preserving the art and The People’s Garden.

After the town hall, and the supposed task force, proved to be a bust, SOIL had created the demands to deliver to the city. They circulated leaflets with the five bullet points, but no one would take them seriously. Dante himself, admittedly, had checked out, and had ignored SOIL’s literature, up until that point. The demands appeared overnight on the walls of the tunnels in bold white paint for everyone to see. They were the last thing everyone saw coming into Groundview and the first thing they saw from the shuttle on their commutes leaving the neighborhood.

#

Nefi kept waiting for the moment when her neighbors would suddenly realize that they were angry — very angry. They’d decide they were fed up once and for all and refuse to settle for less anymore. They’d riot in the streets. They’d protest in front of AR&M’s offices. They’d refuse to go into work until something changed. Their anger would get everyone’s attention. Her own rage had burned intensely inside her for as long as she knew herself. She learned to channel it through SOIL trying to make Groundview a better place, even though everyone told her it wasn’t worth it; it wasn’t possible; it was a waste of time. But it was either that or literally set some shit on fire. But, it didn’t matter how many rallies, tenant meetings, town halls, or demonstrations SOIL organized. Nefi learned that she couldn’t have a revolution without people. And the people? They were tired and overworked. They didn’t have time to overthrow anything. And, even though no one would admit it, they were also afraid — afraid of change, of what they could lose, of realizing that something greater than what they had come to know was possible. So to save themselves, and Nefi, further disappointment, they rebuffed her again, and again: Nefi you need to chill. Girl you’re doing too much. Don’t waste your time. Nothing’s gonna change. After the town hall, and years and years of holding hope, the fire inside Nefi dulled until she couldn’t recognize herself anymore. She conceded her rage for high-functioning hopelessness. She withdrew from her friends, from her neighbors, from SOIL, only tapping into enough energy to wake up, go to work, and make her way back home. The days bled into each other, so much so that when the night Nefi had been waiting for eventually came later that August, it caught her completely off guard. It caught everyone off guard because it wasn’t the HVACs or the deaths of toddlers, or even the wrath towards AR&M that finally set people off. But it shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone who’s lived in New York City long enough because it was the one thing that could incite the level of large-scale anarchic rage Nefi had been holding out for — and that was the MTA.

#

The night in question, the air was hot, muggy, and heavy with potential. Like any other evening, people were heading home from work, the collective exhaustion weighing down on their bodies, stamped into their faces. They waited together, huddled in a sweaty mass on the sweltering Third Ave-138th St. platform for a train that felt like it would never come. When an empty shuttle finally did arrive in the station, the doors opened to the grating sound of a man’s voice coming through the train’s speaker system:

“Attention passengers. This is your conductor speaking. Due to unplanned construction up ahead, we are disbanding all trains to Groundview Gardens at this time. I repeat, we are disbanding all trains to Groundview. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

This shit had happened plenty of times before. A disruption of service that made it difficult to get home. Everybody was so used to it and had even come to expect it. The inconvenience of being poor and powerless consistently working against them. It too had become a predictable kind of disappointment. Even the audible, collective disapproval was muted and slightly rehearsed, nothing more than a reflex. They would have to find their way home, some two-odd miles on foot, through the tunnels. But that night, Ms. Claudette, who had been on her feet all day at work taking care of her elderly patient and still had to go home and iron her scrubs for the next day, was fucking tired. She had paid her fare. And, she had paid her taxes. She had also paid her dues in this country — twenty-seven years worth of struggle and debasement — for what? This could not be it. Life could not just be disappointment. The least she expected was that the train would get her home like it was supposed to. She decided that she was going to let the conductor have a piece of her mind.

“This is nonsense. Tell me, just tell me, how am I supposed to get home?” Her boisterous St. Lucian accent traveled well beyond her.

Folks who heard her echoed in agreement, hyping her up. “They have the nerve to raise prices for this shitty ass service,” someone said loudly. They all collectively decided to board the empty train. The construction workers in their hard hats and massive boots, the women with their large tote bags and their tiredness neatly folded away into themselves. They were all going to sit on the train, until it started up again. It was going to take them home.

The conductor was tired too. Nothing as deep-seated as his passengers, but something not too far removed. He had no skin in this game though, and his job didn’t pay him enough to care. He was annoyed; they were keeping him from clocking out. And so, after listening to a bunch of people passionately curse him out, he told them to, and I quote:

“Write a letter.”

It happened so fast. I mean, when I say shit popped off before anyone could swallow their spit. Someone knocked over the trash cans on the platform. Someone else, set them on fire, with what to this day no one really knows, but their latent anger seemed to have ignited what they didn’t know was inside them.

The riots lasted for weeks. People boycotted the MTA and didn’t go to work.

The restaurants aboveground shuttered because they were understaffed. Construction on all the new developments stopped because the workers, a lot of whom lived in Groundview, refused to show up. People aboveground had to stay home because their nannies and house cleaners weren’t able to come and relieve them like they had come to rely on. Groundview had forced the city to come to a complete stop. The mayor held a press conference saying she didn’t condone the behavior of the vandals at the train station. SOIL led protests and demonstrations in front of city hall until she had to hold a second press conference to apologize for her statements at the first press conference. She promised she was going to make sure that it would never happen again — not just the riots, but the unnecessary deaths in Groundview, the resentment the residents felt towards the city. They were going to fix the HVACs, and the MTA! They were going to heal the great divide the city had long thrived on once and for all, if, and only if, the workers called off the strike and went back to work. It sounded so sincere, everyone wanted to believe it. Tired of holding all the power, they asked SOIL to represent them at the bargaining table. Deals were made. Hands were shaken. And things went back to a semblance of normal with a few slight adjustments.

#

Sibyl was heading out of her apartment when she saw a piece of yellow paper on her front door.

60 DAYS NOTICE TO INCREASE RENT

Mildred Campbell 207 167th St. (GG), Unit 10E

Beginning September 1, 2041, the monthly rent will go up an additional 5% for all units located in the Robert Moses Houses. Please make the appropriate adjustments within the AR&M digital payment system.

We appreciate your continued tenancy.

Sincerely, Arcadian Realty & Management

Pieces of yellow paper were taped to every single door she passed on her way to the train. It had been a year since the last time the heating or cooling had stopped working. Everyone held their breath celebrating, just in case that was when the heat would shut off or the air would decide to stop working again, but it never did. The number of deaths and hospitalizations went down, and everyone seemed content enough after the strikes and boycott ended, to go back to work. The trains even went back to running as efficiently as possible for the MTA, always teetering on the edge of collapse, but never actually approaching it for fear of recreating another opportunity for mass rebellion.

On her way to the shuttle, Sibyl saw a group of people congregating near one of the murals. She clutched her camera in her hand, ready to raise it to her face, when she heard a voice she didn’t recognize shouting through a megaphone. It belonged to a man she had never seen around the neighborhood before, and he was walking backwards while talking to a group of people Sibyl also didn’t recognize.

“Groundview is the latest up and coming neighborhood in the city,” his voice echoed. “Some of the most promising young artists have gotten their start in this urban — ”

She didn’t stick around to hear more.

After the riots, small groups of tourists descended regularly on Groundview like vultures to see the murals they had seen in viral photographs. They’d rudely block the paths from the train platform, or take up way too much space on the footpaths of the tunnels posing in front of the murals for pictures. Not long after that came the opportunistic hacks who had never stepped foot in Groundview before, running “culture tours’’ around the neighborhood. The residents felt like they were stuck in some sick and twisted museum. Out of annoyance, they banned the tours and non-residents from the People’s Garden, preserving their one last sanctuary in the community.

Sibyl had been in the middle of it all the first night of the riots. She was on the subway platform on her way home from classes and started snapping pictures once she realized what was going on, catching the fervent energy better than anyone could describe to everyone else who wasn’t there. She had no idea her photos would end up everywhere. But they did, and they not only helped draw attention to the plight of her neighborhood. They also drew attention to the wealth of talent germinating underneath the city. Her photos of her friends, their murals, and the other members of her neighborhood, had also attracted a lot of attention that felt good to the young artists who all of a sudden saw opportunities previously unavailable to them right at their doorsteps.

The shuttle arrived on the platform before her. Sibyl boarded the cool air-conditioned cart; the beads of sweat on her skin quickly evaporated. Nefi had warned them to be careful early on. “These things always end up having you exploit your own people for a cheap come up, and it’s never worth it.” Everyone thought she was trippin’. There Nefi was again just looking for another cause to fight now that her crusade against A&RM had seemed to come to an end. Even Sibyl thought she was overreacting at first. People were finally paying attention to Groundview. If she and the rest of the artists could help show the world how important the lives of the people who lived there were, maybe things could change for the better.

The train disappeared into the tunnel towards the 138th St. station. A lot of things had quietly changed over the last year and a half. Many of the families who had lost loved ones, including Dante’s, received settlements from the city and moved out of the neighborhood, leaving a sizable number of the apartments empty. Leading to perhaps the most visible addition to the neighborhood. AR&M had a couple of the younger artists looking for their own big break paint over SOIL’s list of demands and replaced it with a more “aesthetically inviting” message for the new visitors to the neighborhood: Welcome to the Mural District. Sibyl had only heard the tour guides call it that, in an unveiled attempt to rebrand Groundview. It didn’t take too long to find out where they got it from. The name and the welcome sign led to intense debates between the artists in the collective, including her friends, about people selling out and what they owed to each other as artists and their neighbors, which led to a few people splitting off and doing their own thing. The mural made Sibyl sick to her stomach, and she tried her best to avoid seeing it on her commutes. Then one day, someone started covering it up with black graffiti making the message unreadable.

No one knew who it was because they never got caught, but it didn’t matter to AR&M. Like clockwork the next morning, they had cleaners paint a fresh welcome message over it in time for the daily tours at noon. When the welcome message started appearing on the AR&M screens, the screens started getting covered in graffiti too. After a few months, Sibyl expected the guerilla painters to give up and move on, but they didn’t. Fresh graffiti kept appearing over the mural and on the screens, prompting AR&M to deploy their clean up crews, and then the routine would start again. Sibyl looked out the window in anticipation. “OURS.” The word, written over and over again across the mural, quickly came into view and then vanished out of sight.

[remmyswritings]

adored by regulus headcannon// potter cousin! reader

@kashishwrites​, I absolutely loved loved loved writing this headcannon.  I really hope I did him justice in this one. 

It might be insanely long because my brain just wouldn’t stop but I have a feeling you’ll like it :)

taglist: @willowbleedsonpaper​ @summer-writes​ @obsessedwithrandomthings​ @firewhisky-kisses​ @potterverseimagine​ @in-slytherin-we-trust​ @masterofthedarkness​ @imboredandneedalife​ @lila-lilakk​ @strawberriesonsummer​ @kalimagik​ @62442-am​ @nebulablakemurphy​ @pcseidcnsvoid​ @curious-curios​ @jenniweaslee​ @cherrycolakxsses​ @peeves-a-legend​ @booksmusicteaandanimals​ @heart-of-tempered-steel​

*Not my GIF*

While you happened to be related to James Potter it was soon discovered by your fellow Hogwarts students that the two of you were nothing alike

Where as he pranked students and caused mischief, you were typically the student that people went to when they needed help or comfort, it was part of your Hufflepuff nature

Nonetheless you were known for having a pretty big bite and for standing up for younger students, using your sass to get back at the bullies

Of course you were still close to your cousin and as such met his friends and surprisingly became increasingly close to Sirius

To him, you were the only one who he felt comfortable with sharing his home life with and be completely vulnerable in front of

So when you met Regulus one day in the library, it was no shock to Sirius that you would reach out to him

But poor Regulus he had no idea what to do… I mean here was this beautiful, sweet Hufflepuff who happened to be best friends with his older brother and now here she is sitting with him in the library, of course Regulus did the one thing he could think of, be completely quiet

You on the other hand recognized his anxiousness and decided that you would just be there for him without pushing, waiting for when he would make the first move

It was about a month later when that happened, “Y/N?” “Yes Regulus?” “Why do you sit with me?”

The sadness in his voice broke you, “Because I want to be your friend Regulus... Is that okay?”

You looked up from your book to see him staring back at you with such awe. He couldn’t wrap his head around the face that you wanted to be his friend, but he could tell that your intentions were pure so he agreed

He definitely saw you as this pure little thing in his life so he swore to never involve you in anything regarding his family

It took him close to a year to admit to himself that you had wiggled your way past his walls and into his heart… by then you had gotten Sirius and Regulus to make up and help Regulus find a place to stay after he ran away from home

Now the one problem he had was trying to figure out if you felt the same way, which you did, but our boy doesn’t want to lose you and he’s way to oblivious to how you automatically smile whenever you see him and how your eyes always search for him whenever you enter a room

The only person who sees all of this is Sirius and since you were the one who brought the two brothers together he decides to meddle to get the two of you together

James is all protective of you and at first refuses to help Sirius but then Sirius forces him to observe you and Regulus one day instead of focusing on Lily and that’s when he realizes his best friend is right

One night, he convinces Regulus to help you brew Amortentia and while he is sitting there with the two of you he asks you what you smell

Being so consumes by the fumes, you momentarily forget who is with you and reply, “I smell expensive cologne, parchment paper, the forest after it rains, and mint.”

Regulus can only stare when he realizes that you feel the same way, that is until Sirius clears his throat and reminds him that he hasn’t answered the question, “Oh… I smell parchment paper, sunflowers, lemons, and vanilla perfume.”

When he got to the last smell he had practically mumbled it but you were close enough to him to hear it.

A blush grows on both of your faces and as the two of you become stuttering messes, Sirius slowly leaves the room to give you some privacy.

The next day the two of you show up to the Great Hall hand-in-hand and both Slughorn and Sprout begrudgingly hand over a couple galleons to McGonagall because out of all the teachers she was the only one that had bet correctly that you hadn’t been dating beforehand

Your relationship with Reg is filled with a lot of love and adoration, he happened to be touch-starved and doubted that he would ever find someone to love, so he always makes sure to have a hand on you at all times

When his anxiety flares up, he tends to go into himself and it does result in tiny arguments, but its mostly his anxiety speaking for him so you’ve learned how to calm him down and make him feel safe

Around the time that he would have joined the Death Eaters he is instead given the possibility to join the Order and he takes it, and you being you also join

Of course not only do you end up being surrounded by a protective boyfriend, but also a protective cousin and a protective friend

Now that does end up with you and Reg fighting because you feel like he’s straining himself with all this work just because he feels like he has to prove himself when he doesn’t need to do anything like that

One night words are said and you two really hurt one another so you go and stay with Alice and Frank for the night knowing that if you went to Lily, James would get all mad, and if you went to Marlene then Sirius would get all mad

Nobody else knows about your fight until you two show up separately to an Order meeting and although you are still hurt by what was said you still find yourself standing next to Reg and holding his hand

Thankfully, he realizes why you had gotten so frustrated with him and doesn’t volunteer himself for the next mission that is brought up

The meeting ends and he still hasn’t let go of your hand, “Can we talk, sweetheart?”

You nod and pull him towards one of the corners to give you a bit more privacy

When you finally look him in the eye, you can see all the hurt and pain he is carrying, “I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have said anything like that to you. You’re right, you are so right. Please forgive me.” Your heart breaks when he practically begs for forgiveness.

“Of course I forgive you Reg,” you cup his face in your hands and gently bring it down so he looks at you, “Hey, it is okay. We are okay. Let’s head home darling”

You knew it would take a couple of days for Reg to forgive himself so you made sure to treat him with extra love. You made his favorite food, cuddled him every day and night, and made sure to remind him just how much you loved him.

Then one day you woke up to find Reg already in the kitchen and this is pretty rare so you try to steal a little bit of what he was making, “You know if you wanted to try you should have just asked sweetheart. It’s very rude to steal food from the chef.”

After that you knew everything would be more than okay

[zhuilingyizhen]

zhuilingyizhen coffee shop au

I remember I saw someone say that wn always owns a coffee shop in these AUs, and to that I say, yeah pretty much. (ft. wangningxian and jyl x jzx x wq)

Wen Ning owns a cute little coffee shop! He supports his baby cousin, Wen Yuan, for the first couple years.

Wen Qing runs her own practice, for children though, across the street, and three very frequent customers happen to be two Jins & a Jiang, if you get who I’m talking about. 0-0

jl and wy (turned lsz later, long story) probably played a little together as kids but it’s not super important

Anyways, wn’s coffee shop probably burns down or something in a series of arson attaccs against the Wen family. Wq’s practice doesn’t get destroyed though, and she gets some help from a certain extremely rich couple who used to go to her.

But wn is super worried bc his wittle bb cousin is gone 0-0

And then a Yuan runs off and falls into a river and dies.

Jk jk, he almost dies! And loses his memory. He’s about 6 at the time, btw. Some stranger (COUGH WWX COUGH) finds this little baby dRowNinG and saves him, bc ofc only wwx would be suspiciously near a river in the middle of nowhere.

Wwx takes keeps him for a couple days, but realizes that he has no clue how to parent, so he takes him to the Lan orphanage.

(Yes, the Lans run an orphanage and you can take this hc from my dead, cold hands.)

(Seriously, I have so many ideas for this. Ask me.)

(Dw this is still a coffee shop AU!)

Anyways, wwx takes him to his just-a-friend, lwj. Lwj looks at this child and looks at wwx.

He also has no clue who this child is.

But he really goes and named him “to long for”, staring right into wwx’s eyes.

Wwx skips away to annoy his brother or something. Idk.

So lqr, running this orphanage, takes lsz in. He also gives lwj a look when he finds out what this child was named, but... shush.

Since he’s in an orphanage, he takes the Lan name. He also meets Lan Jingyi, who is maybe 7 if this happens after August?

Ljy’s mom was not very good.

Meanwhile wn is crying his eyes out bc his bb cousin probably died in the fire and now he’s sad and it’s all his fault & :(((((

Ofc, being the amazing, bamf older sister she is, wq refuses this response.

She makes wn come work for her now, so yay! They have one less person to support, so it don’t as bad but,, but,, WEN YUAN IS DEADDD :((((((((((((((((((

So sad.

Anyways, jl probably asks once why that kid he used to play with is gone. They attend the funeral, but wn is always on da lookout for anyways who fits the description of lsz.

jl doesn’t remember him that well anyways, so oof. His parents lowkey like wq but jzx is a shy bastard and wq is uselessly gay for jyl so this won’t end up well.

But since this is a lsz-centric coffee shop AU...

Lsz grows up under the amazing teaching of lqr, probably learns an instrument or two from lxc, gets parented w/bunnies by lwj, and uselessly crushes on ljy. Like he does.

And then time skip to him in college, and he wants to start a coffee shop bc it reminds him of his childhood, that he doesn’t remember.

But yeah. Coffee shop AU.

Oyzz, who is jl’s friend goddamnit let jl have friends both his parents are alive, drags him to every coffee/tea shop in the area bc he has an obsession with good drinks. Which eventually leads them to lsz’s cozy little tea shop.

It’s moderately popular, sometimes ljy will sing for entertainment (bc yesss 🥺) and it’s pretty good! Lsz is out of college (so 22, bc he didn’t take a masters) and started the shop, ljy’s doing god knows what (maybe signed a record deal w/ someone who went to the cafe and heard him singing? a dumb luck sorta thing. Or perhaps lxc has a production company :eyes:)

but ljy sometimes helps out or just hangs around the shop.

Anyways, oyzz likes his voice a big lot, befriends ljy, and now jl has to go there every weekend bc he’s whipped for oyzz.

He also gets to watch oyzz and ljy be big gay for each other, so yeah. Huh. jl sorta befriends lsz, bc ofc he does. They’re both a lil sad, but fun!

Also, jl and wn are pretty close now bc jl has wayyyyy too many uncles.

Lsz doesn’t remember wwx, but lwj sure as hell does.

Surprisingly, wwx and wn, going out on a not-date, as just-friends, end up going to the tea shop & wn is surprised at how similar it looks to his coffee shop from all those years ago.

wOw whAt a cOinCidEncE!

jl probably recommended it to wn and wwx, bc ofc he did.

Matchmaker extraordinaire, I say. Jyl and jzx are just 🥺 so proud of their child

But they’re also uselessly crushing on wq, who isn’t usually oblivious but thinks it’s just a doctor-patient transaction.

side plot: wq and jyl go out one night and end up sleeping together and the next morning jzx makes them tea & breakfast and then casually asks how it was and jyl says “it was great” while wq chokes on her tea & is very confused:tm:

Yeah, they get together bc I love background ships.

But wn is kinda sus at how similar it looks. He thinks maybe they went to his coffee shop before, and orders tea. But then he sees the one barista and thinks “wait a second...”

Bc the barista (lsz) looks scarily familiar, he just doesn’t know why. Oyzz is just over in a corner sipping his bubble tea.

One day, after the tea shop closes and the junior quartet are the only ones left, and lsz asks to speak to jl. Alone.

Ljy and oyzz are looking at them like 👀 👀 but they leave together to go to some bookstore or something, idk.

So now lsz and jl are alone. They’re sorta friend-acquaintances, but now jl’s a little confused as to why tf lsz wants to talk to him.

Lsz explains that jl seems familiar (coughiwonderwhycough) and says that he lost his memory at a young age and that wwx found him. jl is starting to put the puzzle together.

Lsz basically asks him out on a date, but neither of them know or think it’s a date, so jl agrees.

They both go there seperate ways, and when oyzz and ljy find out the next day, they realize that they’re going on a date.

Ljy is very excited for lsz!! But what is that pain he feels—

Ofc, they stalk jl and lsz on their date, bc they are stupid and don’t realize they might have feelings for them. At least they realize their feelings for each other. Ljy & oyzz get together!! :))

They’re also oblivious though so they don’t notice a Ling & Sizhui’s :/

Wn ends up taking over the tea shop so lsz can go off and get his masters

Eventually the junior quartet stumble into a relationship ! Hopefully ! it’s really quite a mess until sizhui gets a dna test taken at wn’s request. found family turned actual family is an old trope, but one we will accept <3

[emerywrites]

Fanfic: “Please don’t make a fuss”

So, I recently got back into Harry Potter and reread all of the books. Percy Weasley is one of my favorite characters and since its his birthday I wrote a fic. I hope that people enjoy it. :) 

 Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Percy hated anyone making a fuss about his birthday. For twenty years he got away with passing it by with little acknowledgement. One year his daughters decide to change that.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: survivors guilt, PTSD

Percy always did his best to ignore his birthday. During the time that he had been estranged from his family, he had seen little reason to make a fuss about his birthday and the habit had stuck with him. Soon after he and Oliver had reignited their relationship, he told him that he didn’t want any birthday celebrations. Oliver had respected that other than a small gift and a “Happy birthday, love” the morning of August 22nd every year.

When Molly and Lucy were old enough to understand birthdays, things had changed, of course. They insisted on making homemade cards and having a cake. Percy allowed it and ate a small piece of cake as he admired their artistic efforts.

He remembered some particularly interesting cards on his birthday after they’d turned five. “That’s you, Daddy, and that’s me and that’s a dragon!” Molly had explained as she pointed to barely discernable shapes she had drawn in crayon.

“Oh, a dragon, how unique, dear,” he said to his daughter before leaning over to mutter to Oliver, “She’s been spending too much time with Charlie.”

Lucy showed him her own art of their family playing quidditch and Percy had been just as encouraging. It was easy to enjoy a birthday with small children who were an easy distraction. When they were young, he could allow his birthday to be more about them than himself.

But as they got older, that changed. His daughters wanted to get him gifts with their pocket money. They asked why they had birthday celebrations at the Burrow for everyone else in the family and why they went to see Papa’s family on his birthday, but never did any of that for Daddy. It was difficult to explain the complicated emotions that went along with Percy’s desire to not think about his birthday. So, he never did. He only ever said that all he wanted for his birthday was peace and quiet with his husband and daughters.

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Molly and Lucy were fifteen and August 22nd had come around yet again. They successfully avoided mentioning his birthday other than a kiss on his cheek that morning with a “Happy birthday, Dad”. The rest of the day was spent in Diagon Alley getting their school supplies and of course a special gift for Molly for being made prefect and Lucy for being made captain of the quidditch team. Percy was more than happy to make their successes the focus of the day.

After they got home, Molly ran upstairs to try on her new robes with her prefect’s badge. Moments later she came running back down. “I can’t find my badge!” Percy promised her that they would look until they found it.

Then Lucy piped up with, “I think you left it at the Burrow yesterday, when we went to show Grandmum and Granddad.”

Molly gasped. “You’re right! We have to go get it, right now.”

“Alright,” Percy agreed. “Ollie, you take Molly to get the badge. Lu and I can get started on dinner.”

“Dad, you know how Gran is, she’ll be disappointed if we don’t stay for dinner,” Molly told him. “We should all go.”

That was when Percy got suspicious. But he didn’t want to act paranoid and relented into going along. He side-long apparated with Lucy and Oliver with Molly. When they showed up outside of the Burrow, Percy immediately knew something was wrong. None of his nieces or nephews were outside running around. Usually there were at least a couple of them always underfoot no matter where you went around the Burrow.

He got a bad feeling that he knew what was about to happen. “Ollie, I’m not feeling too well. The three of you can stay. I’ll just go back…” But the three of them were already going up to the door. Percy followed, feeling his stomach twist into a knot as he desperately hoped that he was wrong in his prediction.

They entered the Burrow, just for the entire family to shout, “Surprise!” Every one of his siblings and their families were there, crammed inside his childhood home. It was overwhelming to see all of their smiling faces, there for him. Percy’s first instinct was to bolt and he would have if it had not been for him backing straight into his husband’s strong chest. He swallowed hard and plastered on a grin.

Percy kindly thanked them for such an amazing surprise. Everyone explained how it had all been Molly and Lucy planning the whole thing. Oliver hadn’t even known about it as the girls knew that he could never keep a secret from Percy.

Percy told himself, he would just get through the evening. He could do it. He’d often enough kept up a façade for politicians and department heads that he had to socialize with. He’d managed to trick Death Eaters into thinking that he wasn’t a threat to their take over of the ministry. It should be easy to pretend to his family that he was happy on his birthday.

They all sat outside at tables magically extended to their limit to hold the, what seemed to be, ever-growing number of Weasleys. Percy sat next to Oliver who was holding an enthusiastic conversation about quidditch with Ginny. His daughters were a bit further down the table talking animatedly with their cousins. He caught a few words of Molly bragging about her new status as prefect in the up-coming school year. Percy tried not to think about his twin brothers’ teasing about “perfect prefect Percy” and how he kind of wished he could reminisce with Fred and George about it. And, now he was thinking about Fred…

Percy hadn’t even noticed that his mother had gone inside. Then she was suddenly coming back out into the garden, floating a towering chocolate cake that had his name in icing. Freddie and Roxanne’s set of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes patented fireworks flashed and screamed through the sky. Percy thought he was going to throw up. He flinched and saw flashes of the walls of Hogwarts castle coming down… Fred’s lifeless eyes…

Percy stood abruptly, knocking his chair backwards. Everyone’s attention turned to him. Smiles faded from their faces when they saw the panicked expression he wore. “I have to go,” he said shakily.

He ran inside, knowing that there was no way he was steady enough to apparate. The intention was to take the floo home but the powder was not on the mantle where it usually was. He was about to try and summon it when Oliver came running in.

“Percy! Percy, what happened out there?” Oliver’s voice was so concerned and that just made Percy feel worse for making a scene.

“I can’t do this, Ollie,” he said hoarsely. There was a lump of emotion in his throat that made it difficult to get his words out. “I can’t be here.”

“Why not, love? I know you don’t like people to make a fuss about your birthday but the girls really wanted to do something special. They wanted to give you a proper birthday.”

“And they are lovely for wanting to do that. But you don’t understand!” How did he explain it? How could he, when saying it out loud would hurt more than anything?

Then Oliver was much closer. He put his hands on either side of Percy’s face and used his thumbs to wipe away the tears that Percy didn’t even realize he had shed. “Love, you’re scaring me. What is going on?”

Percy gently took his wrists and pushed the hands away. “I hate my birthday,” he said slowly. “After… after I left, I stopped caring about my birthday. I had my work and it just felt like another distraction.”

Oliver nodded. “So, you’re out of practice in celebrating. We can fix that. We’ll just start a bit smaller next time.” He laughed as if it was that easy.

“That’s not it!” he snapped. He was shouting. He didn’t mean to be but no one understood and they wouldn’t until he got it out. He couldn’t help but look away toward the fireplace. The words that sat on the tip of his tongue weren’t supposed to be out there. They were meant to stay there in his heart, slowly eating him alive. At least there, they couldn’t damage anyone else. “My birthday is just a reminder, Ollie! It’s a reminder that I get another year, year after year! I get to grow old and Fred doesn’t! It’s a reminder to my family that the wrong son survived! I can pretend… I can pretend that I’m okay if I just don’t let anyone make a fuss about celebrating. It feels wrong to make them celebrate it.”

Percy finally allowed himself to look at Oliver. His husband was staring at him, his mouth opening and closing like he didn’t know what to say, but was struggling to find the words. But just past Oliver, standing at the threshold of the kitchen, was his father looking at him with pain-filled eyes.

“Is that what you really believe?” Arthur asked as he approached. “That we think the wrong son survived?”

Percy really wished he had just pushed through and gotten to the end of the dinner. He should have found a way to keep the smile on his face and his bum in his chair. Now, he was hurting his father all over again. “No!” he tried to lie. “I…it’s…” Both his father and his husband looked at him with pity and that was humiliating. There was no point in lying when they could see through him like a ghost. “Yes, that’s… that’s always what I believed. How could I not? It felt like the cost of me returning to the family was Fred’s life. Like it was some sort of horrible exchange. And you lost, someone as well-loved as Fred to get me… the broken one who came back too late.”

“None of us have ever thought that,” Arthur said with an adamant shake of his head. “Losing Fred was a tragedy. That loss is always going to be there. But I also got a son back that day, Percy. And I apologize, that we obviously didn’t do enough to make you feel fully welcomed back and that you thought we wouldn’t want to celebrate having you.”

“Dad, you don’t need to-” But then his dad was hugging him. It was strange. He tried to remember the last time his dad had hugged him like that. It had been a while.

When he was eventually released, he realized that Oliver had slipped out of the room. His dad looked at him and cleared his throat. “If you need to go home, I can tell everyone that you weren’t feeling well. But I think everyone would really love for you to stay.”

“I’ll stay,” he said softly as he adjusted his glasses. “Molly and Lucy did put a lot of work into this.”

The reassurance had been needed but the fear of being unwanted still sat like a heavy stone on his chest. But then he followed his dad back outside to the garden. Everyone turned to look at him and in overlapping voices said how happy they were he came back out. George came out of nowhere to throw an arm around his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, I told the little troublemakers to cool it with the fireworks,” George whispered into his ear. “They can set me off too sometimes.”

Then George was pulling him over to the cake, sitting on the table. The candles had been placed and were alight. A spell had been used to keep the wax from melting onto the icing. Molly and Lucy ran up beside him.

“Make a wish, Dad!” Lucy encouraged.

Percy let his eyes fall shut for a moment as he made his wish. Then he opened them again and blew out the candles. Everyone cheered and his mother gave him a kiss on the cheek before she went to serve the cake.

The overwhelming love he felt in that moment was almost too much. It had soothed his fear to the point that it had gone dormant. It would come back but he had a feeling its potency had been dulled.

“What’d you wish for?” Lucy asked softly.

“For every birthday to be as amazing as this one,” he replied.