#me and my friend had given the Mayor a full name

[catliker49]

AAGGGHH I want to keep you all Updated on what I am doing! Although as of right now it is not Welcome Home related (I apologise so much!! I can't wait to finish my project and be back to posting more! AH) However! If everyone would like, I can show progress on my Project so I'm not completely quiet for the next 4 weeks or so! I will give an Example of what I will show! One frame from my animation! The background and such is not finished, but here is Al! Me and my friend have been working on him, as well as his husband Toby for the past few weeks so we can have a Nice story to our work <:o)

[roosterforme]

The Intern Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Five minutes into an interview with you, and Bradley knew he was in trouble. You were attractive, funny and smart, and now the summer was stretching out before him like an obstacle course he would have to navigate carefully. At least a visit from an old friend should be enough to help him work through his frustrations.

Warnings: Language, mentions of smut and masturbation (eventually 18+)

Length: 4200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

The Intern masterlist. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner by @mak-32

When Bradley got to the Avio headquarters the following morning, he rode the elevator up to his office. He'd already eaten breakfast, gone for a long run and taken a shower, and he was still one of the first ones here. Except for Judy. He smiled when her desk came into view as he turned toward his office door. She was sweet, and it scared him a little bit how much she reminded him of his mom. She was a widow with one son in college, and Bradley would be lost without her. 

"Morning," she said, handing him his mail as he walked past without her even looking up at him. "You have a very busy day, and I already turned on your coffee maker."

He really needed to give her another raise. "Thanks, Judy. Hey, what time is that interview I have?" he asked, flipping through the stack of envelopes in his hand. 

Now she looked up from her computer and met his eyes. "Nine o'clock. And it's Ted's daughter."

"I know," he replied with a small smile. 

"Do you really think she would be a good fit? You'll be working on the yacht for weeks, and all she has is a graduate degree and a daddy with a bankroll." She handed him your résumé with a concerned look.

He shrugged as he skimmed the page again. "She has some related work experience. She volunteered to run the finances for a handful of Philadelphia based charities every year. Her references include the Philadelphia deputy mayor. But you're right, she's pretty green. I'll take this with me," he said as he held the résumé up and headed for his door. "Let me know when she arrives."

"Will do," Judy muttered. 

Bradley made himself another cup of coffee before he settled into his seat. His office had a fantastic view of the Pacific Ocean in the distance along with the Naval base at North Island where he'd spent several years working. Sometimes he missed it, other times he didn't. Flying was in his blood, but after five air-to-air kills, it seemed like he'd given up enough of his soul to the Navy. Now he was helping oversee the design of software components that would help keep aviators safer in the air. 

He turned his gaze from the view outside back to your resume. Your name at the top made him smile, and the more he read about you, the more he liked. None of the other people begging him for a job in his department had the same level of academic chops or philanthropic endeavors you did. And he couldn't imagine you begging for a single damn thing, ever. He tapped his keyboard, wondering what your LinkedIn profile looked like. 

Well. Your photo was gorgeous. It was professional looking without a doubt, but he knew better now that the way your smile tilted a little higher on one side meant you were about to deliver a line that would make him laugh. He wondered if you'd had the photographer smiling nonstop, too. 

Bradley paused with his fingers on his keyboard, but he couldn't help it. He typed your full name into the search bar and sorted it by images. There were more headshots of you from academic articles and a few newspapers, but when he scrolled he almost spit his coffee out. There was one of you wearing that same bikini you had on yesterday. When he clicked it for more, it took him to your private instagram page. 

He stared at that tiny thumbnail before he closed his eyes. Really, the way you looked wasn't why he asked you to come here today, and he'd spent a good portion of last evening trying to focus on anything other than how it felt to have your body pressed against his while he held you.

"Fuck," he grunted. He really needed to get laid. He made another mental note next to the one about Judy's raise. He would call one of his friends with benefits and get that taken care of, because if you agreed to join him for a couple months on the company yacht, he'd probably see that bikini again and again. And there was no way he could touch Ted's daughter. Not like that. Even if he wanted to.

And that thought brought him back to the main reason you would be here in the next few minutes. What kind of information could he get out of you? Bradley noticed that the profit and loss sheets from several departments didn't seem to add up. That had been the case for two quarters in a row. When he mentioned it to one of the harried looking accountants one floor down, he told Bradley they wouldn't have time to run an unnecessary audit before next quarter started. 

Someone in this company was doing something shady, and Bradley wanted to know who it was and why. He'd gone over those numbers for days, double checking his math. He knew he wasn't crazy, but he didn't know who he could safely take this information to, especially when the specs on the software they were creating was considered top secret. 

"Your interview is here," Judy's voice suddenly announced through his intercom.

Bradley quickly closed out of the photo of you in a bathing suit that was still on his screen and slammed his laptop shut. "Send her in."

A few seconds later, Judy was holding the door open for you, and you thanked her as you strolled in like you owned the company. Your hair was styled in some sort of clip, and you were wearing a perfectly tailored black suit. Bradley shook his head; it was rich that you called him out for his proclivity for Armani when yours was probably worth three times as much. His gaze drifted down your legs. Your black and white heels were the kinds of things he would love to have thrown over his shoulders in bed, and the bit of white silk peeking out above your jacket buttons reminded him of your skimpy pajamas. 

Inviting you here was a terrible idea. 

You smirked as you ran your right index finger along the charm from Tiffany's that hung from your necklace, and then you reached out to shake his hand over his desk. "Mr. Bradshaw. So lovely to see you again today." Your voice was playful, and Bradley gestured for you to take a seat while he tried his best to gather his thoughts. 

"I was a little afraid you'd show up in your bathing suit," he said, and you nodded as you crossed your legs and set your leather portfolio on your lap. 

"I can certainly understand the cause for that concern," you replied, not missing a beat. "However, I promise you'll see nothing but Armani suits from here on out if I end up coming to the office every day. Now what would you have me do for you all summer? Fetch your coffee? Give you the abridged version of the Wall Street Journal? Sit in on pointless meetings in the conference room across the hallway?"

"That's just it," he said, tilting his head to the side and taking in your neutral expression. He hardly knew what to do with the fact that you made him feel warm and slightly uncomfortable when you were being sassy. "We wouldn't be here at all. And actually, you could wear your bathing suit and swim half the time for all I cared."

Your eyes lit up immediately as you leaned closer to his desk. "This sounds like a trap, but please, carry on. Tell me more."

He chuckled as he moved a little closer to you as well. "I'm being tasked with taking a few weeks to a couple months on the company yacht in the Mediterranean. I have the technical knowledge as well as the access to arrange meetings with members of Avio's European sales team to close some deals. This is all top secret information, but since you've got the right connections, I'll go ahead and tell you that the US government has given us the greenlight to sell our software to a select list of countries."

You licked your lips, and Bradley could barely focus as you said, "So you'll be the one calling all the shots. And you need to have access to some of these countries to schedule meetings and dinners and cocktail parties. You'll be working from the yacht in much the same capacity you are currently working from your office, still expected to head the research department here. But you'll have the added workload of trying to answer questions and sell the software in Europe? Did I miss anything?"

Bradley's eyes went a little wide as he chuckled. "No. Not really."

You were smiling now. "This sounds like half work and half sorority party, and let me tell you, I am more than capable of making both of those things go as smoothly for you as possible."

"Yeah," he said, his voice a little raspy now. "But you'll have to put up with me. And some of these clients have been known to be a little difficult in... a variety of different ways." Bradley's mind drifted to last summer when he'd been on the yacht for a week as well as the summer before that. The wealthier a man becomes, the more he seems to think he could have whatever he wants, and Bradley had seen some wild shit. "But I'll do my best to keep you comfortable and safe. The workload will be intense, to say the least. But it'll all be happening on a one hundred and thirty foot superyacht." 

You eyed him carefully. "This sounds like it was custom made for me, so you either want me or you don't, Mr. Bradshaw." 

Bradley smiled, and his gaze followed your hand as you touched that pretty charm again. "Oh... I want you plenty. Something tells me yachts and Mediterranean vacations are something you simply grew up with. I'm just trying to sell myself now."

The way you laughed reminded him once again of that night in December when you asked him if he wanted to share a bottle of wine with you. "You're very persuasive, Mr. Bradshaw. I can practically smell the sunblock and taste the pasta from here." You bit your lip and considered him, and it felt to Bradley like you could see every flaw and indiscretion inside of him. "Where did you go to school anyway? Yale? Brown? No wait... you look like a Princeton boy to me."

He shook his head as he pointed to his college diploma on the wall. "I went to a state school." 

You gasped, and your eyes went wide as you muttered, "Jesus," while you read it. "Political science? At the University of Virginia? Oh... you should be lying to people. I mean, at least say you went to Dartmouth."

Bradley tried and failed to hold in his laughter, because you truly looked scandalized by this turn of events. "Aww, come on, Ivy League. It's not so bad."

You sputtered with laughter, too. "Did you just call me Ivy League?"

"I sure did," he told you, still laughing. "It's about ten times nicer than what I was going to say."

Your soft gasp as your eyes positively lit up made Bradley's heart beat a little faster. "Well, what were you going to say?" you asked before biting your lip. 

Shit. You were trouble, and you knew it. "Never mind. My lips are sealed. Can't say that to Ted's daughter."

You sighed and rolled your eyes. "You're no fun right now, but I'm sure as soon as I get you loosened up in some Armani swim trunks on the yacht, you'll be an absolute pleasure for me to deal with."

The way Bradley's cock was twitching should have been warning enough. He was about to get in over his head. But all he could say was, "Does that mean you want the internship?"

Your smile tilted up a little higher on the one side. "Oh, absolutely." Then you stood before him looking like the cat who got the cream, and Bradley had to hope for the best as he stood as well. He could mark this as the first time he'd ever become slightly aroused during an interview, a sign that he desperately needed to get laid. 

He shook your hand and said, "We leave in a few days. Judy will help you get your visas in order. Sound good?"

"Sounds perfect, Mr. Bradshaw." 

The way you here still holding his hand and calling him Mr. Bradshaw left his voice barely louder than a rasp. "Judy and I will be in touch."

You turned and shot him a smile over your shoulder as you headed for his office door, and Bradley dropped back down in his chair. He'd call Callie about getting together to hook up before he left for Europe, but he had another more important call to make first. He cleared his throat as he opened his contacts and then put his phone on speaker. He was greeted with a familiar voice filled with laughter.

"Rooster! When are you going to get that yacht warmed up for me?"

Bradley just shook his head and said, "Hangman. You're not going to believe who my summer intern is."

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

You were floating on a raft in the pool wearing your second favorite bathing suit when you were greeted by the sound of your father's voice. "I sincerely hope you know what you're doing by wasting your time right now."

"Daddy," you greeted with a smile. "My day was a complete and utter success."

He checked his watch as he said, "Please, elaborate."

You had the trump card, but you knew all too well what it would be like if you didn't. Instead of lecturing you like you could tell he wanted to, he smiled when you said, "I have a job."

"Where?" 

"Avio."

He nodded in appreciation as he said, "I am actually impressed right now. You managed to secure an internship at the company I've spent decades with, and you did so without me knowing anything about it. Which department?"

"Research and development," you replied smoothly.

His eyes went wider. "With Bradley Bradshaw?"

Your tummy swooped, and you sucked in a breath at the mere mention of his name. Spending weeks working with him and entertaining guests with him was going to be... well, something. "Yes. With Bradley Bradshaw."

"Sweetheart," your father said. "He had a career in the Navy."

"Yes. He was an aviator," you recalled from his Avio bio.

"That means he's not going to put up with any nonsense. You don't make him repeat himself, and you don't give him attitude. I'll know immediately if he's displeased with you, I'm sure."

Bradley didn't seem stuffy. He'd already encouraged you to pack your bathing suits. Hell, you were determined to get him to join you in some fun. "Well maybe not immediately as he and I will be on the Avio yacht in the Mediterranean."

Your father stared at you, speechless. Finally he said, "I really don't know how you managed to get exactly what you wanted, but I applaud you, Sweetheart. Well done. I know it sounds fun, but you'll be kept very busy. I hope you know what you're in for."

When he finally wandered back inside after you promised to join him for dinner, you soaked up the last few rays of the dying sunlight. Then you made a mental list of everything you needed to spend the next few days packing as you brushed up on your French and Italian.  "J'adore mon travail. Amo il mio lavoro. I love my job."

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

Bradley was still chuckling as he got off the phone with Ted a few days later. Your father tried to warn him that you could be a bit of a handful. Like Bradley wasn't fully aware of that fact. As if he hadn't known since December. He could practically hear your disdain for his alma mater and your delight in international travel from his condo.

He was stacking his suits up in his extra bedroom along with several pairs of shoes, and he shook his head as he looked down at his swim trunks in his hands. They actually were all Armani, and you'd have a field day when you realized it. Or perhaps skinny dipping would become a thing?

Fuck. He needed to stop thinking about you like that. Callie Bassett was on her way over, so that should help alleviate some of this tension. He'd been friends with Halo for over a decade, and she had slowly and naturally turned into a friend with benefits over time. She was still in the Navy, and she was discreet. It was easier than having a girlfriend. It was all he had time for. 

As he organized his suits, he remembered you told him he looked like a Princeton boy. He could just picture you with a parade of preppy assholes following you around, and he wondered if you ever slummed it with anyone like him before. It made him want to pack some of his casual clothes including his Virgina baseball cap and his worn out golf shorts. So he did. 

Then his doorbell buzzed, and he went to let Callie in. He needed this taken care of right now. She smelled good, and she looked cute. She always did. And she wore something a little skimpy just for him. The kiss on his cheek in greeting quickly turned to her lips brushing his as she said, "I haven't seen you in weeks."

"Been busy," he replied, taking her by the hand and heading for his bedroom. "And I'm leaving for Portugal on Saturday."

"How long?" she asked, pouting a little bit as Bradley reached for the hem of her dress and eased it up and over her head in one fluid motion. 

"Couple months," he whispered, taking in her soft, naked body with his gaze. 

"Months?" she whined as he wrapped his hands around her waist and smirked at her. 

"Don't even act like we are anything close to exclusive, Cal. Now... how do you want it?"

She licked her lips and looked up at him with those familiar dark eyes just as his phone rang in his pocket. He didn't hesitate or check the number; he never did. "Bradshaw."

"Hey, State School. I have a few questions for you."

Bradley froze with your voice in his ear and Callie's fingers on his zipper. He grunted softly as she eased it down and touched him. He just knew if he closed his eyes and listened to your voice, he'd probably finish in her hand within two minutes. 

"Ivy League," he rasped, taking a step back away from Halo who was now standing before him completely naked and rolling her eyes.

"Are you busy?" you asked, and Bradley looked Halo in the eyes without remorse as he answered you.

"No. I'm not busy. I can talk." He held up one finger and zipped himself up as he left his bedroom in favor of his office. "As long as you tell me how you got this number."

You laughed as he sank down into his desk chair. "You think it's exclusive or something? Judy gave it to me. And it's probably listed on the company website."

Brat. He narrowed his eyes, adding a note to his mental list to make sure it was not listed on the company website. "What can I help you with?"

"Well, I'm packing and hoping for a little input from you."

"On Thursday night at nine?" he asked. "And don't you have a butler to help you with that?"

"Like you have anything else going on?"

Bradley thought about Callie waiting in his bedroom, but instead of ushering this call along, he asked, "What did you pack so far?"

You sighed. "Sixteen bathing suits, piles of lingerie, and sunglasses. And I'm only kind of kidding."

Fighting the urge to ask for more details, he said, "Unfortunately I can't let you wear any of that in front of potential clients. So throw in some suits and dresses."

"Some suits and dresses? You'll need to be a little bit more specific, Sir." 

Sir.

That one word was echoing through his mind along with your bratty tone, and he had to take a deep breath. "Why don't you bring the suit you wore when I interviewed you? That looked good. And so did the dress you wore to your father's holiday party. The dark green one."

There was a pause before you said, "You remember what I wore to the party?"

"Yeah," he grunted, rubbing his hand over his face in frustration. "It looked nice. Pack some cocktail dresses, too."

"How many should I pack?"

"How many do you have?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

Bradley laughed. "I'm sure you know better than I do what you should wear."

You scoffed. "You're acting like you've never spent a summer on the Avio yacht before."

"I haven't," he replied easily. "Just a few days here and there. I'm sure I'll be learning things from you."

"Then you'll be learning from the best."

He bit back a groan as he said, "That's what I'm counting on. That's why I hired you."

"I won't let you down," you promised, and Bradley believed you. "I'll see you at the airport on Saturday morning. Don't forget your swim trunks."

You ended the call before he could say another word, and now he was convinced you had called him simply because you could. If he was frustrated before, it was nothing compared to the way he felt now. Spending weeks on end with Ted's daughter was supposed to help him get to the bottom of the messy business with Avio, not cause other issues to arise. 

He unzipped his pants, intent on touching himself,  before jolting to his feet. "Shit," he muttered as he left his office and went back to his bedroom. "Cal?" he called out. "Sorry. It was a work call." But he was completely alone. He laughed as his phone vibrated in his hand with a text from her.

Have a great time in Europe. Don't bother calling me when you get back.

Bradley was sure he'd hear about this from his old friend Natasha when Callie bitched about him at work. But it didn't really matter. After she had a few weeks to cool off, she'd come back when he needed her again. For now, he'd take matters into his own hands and hope that would be enough.

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

Your father insisted upon seeing you off on Saturday morning which gave Bradley a few minutes alone with him. He was listening to Ted as he watched you struggle with your seven pieces of Dior luggage on the tarmac next to the chartered airplane. 

"Bradley, you don't know what you've gotten yourself into," your father told him with a laugh. "She's tenacious though. And whip smart. Make sure you challenge her, because she will certainly challenge you."

Now Bradley laughed as he shook Ted's hand. "I'll do my best."

"If she gets to be too much, just leave her in one of the marinas with her passport."

He would never do that to you. He doubted it would ever come to that. In fact, he was already impressed by the way you took care of things for yourself. Sure, you looked like you belonged in an ad for designer gym clothes with your leggings and soft hoodie zipped over your sports bra. But you were also taking your luggage from the back of the black Mercedes-Benz G-Class yourself.

"I can assure you that she and I will be just fine, Sir."

"What have I told you about calling me Ted?" Bradley received a friendly cuff on the shoulder before shaking his hand and turning toward you. 

He picked up the last two pieces of your luggage at the same time and carried them to the cargo hold while you trailed after him. "I don't need help," you told him as he stowed them away. Then you added, "You look weird out of your Armani."

"I look weird?" he asked with a laugh as he glanced down at his chinos and Oxford shirt.

"A good kind of weird. Like when you wore that Fair Isle sweater last year."

Bradley examined your pretty face, and you didn't look away. He remembered the dress you wore to Ted's holiday party, and you remembered his sweater. Right now he was wishing he'd joined you for that bottle of French wine that night, something he'd remedy on the yacht. A flood of bad decisions just waiting to happen filled his mind as he said, "Go say goodbye to your father. It's almost time to go."

"Yes, Sir," you told him with your chin held high and a smirk gracing your lips. Bradley stood at the bottom of the stairs while you flung your arms around Ted and kissed him on the cheek. Then you came strolling his way once again, and he followed you closely up the stairs as you turned back and softly said, "I'm all yours."

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

Ivy League spells trouble for Bradley, but at least he knows it. And he didn't get an ounce of relief before getting on that plane. What could possibly go wrong? Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 20: A measurement of the future

A Megnitude is a unit of measurement of my own inner bullshit.

It’s really that simple.

It’s a Meghan thing. If you’re not a Meghan, you might not get it.

You can always change your name, of course. I did it!

In fact, I recommend it.

OK, so. I may be a dragon, but I’m also a trans girl. And we trans girls have a long and storied tradition of turning our own names into puns. We also have a common habit of looking in mirrors a lot and taking a whole bunch of selfies. It’s an understandable thing if you’ve had a lot of trauma over how you look – thank you, dysphoria – and especially if you’re in the process of healing from that. It’s actually healthy. Also, we end up having to draw a lot of boundaries, usually (though I’ve been kind of spared from that myself). And this tends to give us the reputation of being full of ourselves. At least, it’s a common criticism.

But, honestly, have you seen cis people? Holy shit, humans are so obsessed with how they look and how they’re perceived. And they criticize each other for it all the time, while dressing themselves up and grooming themselves carefully to be seen for what they feel they are. And trans people really aren’t the only ones posting selfies.

As a dragon, though, I’m definitely full of myself.

I don’t know if it’s the fact that I was raised by humans, or if it’s my instincts, or if it’s because my instincts are derived from how humans have shaped dragons through the ages. But my status in this world is utterly dependent on who respects and supports me, and if that status falls I run the risk of being killed. Either attacked by another dragon, or mobbed by angry and hateful humans. Or starving due to lack of support and access to food.

If I don’t step forward and fill the shoes I’ve been given, I’m in trouble. And I could always feel that, throughout my whole life. I was, for the longest time, on the verge of death because I couldn’t fill the ones laid before me.

So, when one morning those shoes were covered in scales and tipped with talons, and they finally fit, you bet I stepped forward and called myself “queen”. I literally felt like one.

As I’ve pointed out before, I’m not actually a queen. But I think people have embraced the title and leaned into it because it’s part of the games of Supporting Your Local Trans Woman and of Taking Pride In Your Dragon. 

Wentin, on the other hand, probably kept bringing it up because it knows how to push the buttons of its victims.

But, very similarly to a drag queen, as a dragon I am a symbol of royalty, of what it maybe could or should be. Maybe a parody of it, but one to be taken seriously in a way when within my domain. Not that I rule anybody, but that I represent the reason why everyone in my territory is there and part of it.

And looking back, I can kind of see how it all played out that way, too.

My audacity to speak up first, to scream the loudest in the mornings, to speak to the press and the Mayor publicly, to write letters to all of the local politicians and to the people through the news media, it all got attention.

Similar to how all the rest of us focused on Säure as a symbol of what’s wrong in our world, I became the center of his focus.

And like how he was just the latest in a long line of stewards of his family’s wealth and power, and how that estate will continue long after his death, I’m just the loudest voice of my neighborhood.

Also, finally, the mistake that Säure made was that he ostracized his own support network while he focused on me, ignoring all the work that my friends were doing.

So if we’re going to celebrate his absence, and we can certainly do that, we must do two things in the process of that:

Remember that he wasn’t the problem, just a tiny part of it. And so be ready to lay the groundwork for the next battle.

Don’t congratulate me. Congratulate yourselves. You took him down. I was just there sticking my tongue out at him while you did it.

And, I don’t have any idea of what our future is going to be. This whole planet is on the precipice of so much disastrous change. And with the advent of us dragons, it’s only going to get weirder. Especially when mating season arrives.

Oh, and if anybody is wondering why the law hasn’t stepped in to straighten things out, and why I haven’t had a big showdown with the police or the military, consider this. It’s been less than two months. And the whole world is dealing with this. Fairport’s kind of a small corner of all that’s going on, and Säure’s downfall happened so fast.

Already elsewhere in the world, dragons are both being attacked by their local militaries and courted by them. But only the most high profile or the most vulnerable of dragons yet. That kind of action will come around here eventually, and maybe soon, but with the work of our Artists and what was going on with Rhoda, the local forces were overwhelmed, I’m sure.

And maybe everyone’s still waiting for the national election to decide things more seriously.

So.

In the meantime.

While we still have the time to say such things.

Those of you living here who stepped up and became part of what we were doing, thank you. Thank you, with all my heart and my gizzard, for becoming, however briefly, my family. Thank you for saving me.

Love,

Meg

—

I guess it’s a Sunday morning. Barely, still.

I know I decided to provoke Säure on a Saturday, one day ahead of my public plans. And that that would mean that the following day would be Sunday. Today, in theory. But somewhere in there I lost track of the days, and I almost don’t care anymore.

I don’t think I know the date, just that we’re still in October. Presumably.

I could look at a computer, tablet, or phone or something to find out.

Instead, I’m licking the air above my tea in Rhoda’s living room, filling the silence between her vocalizations with long slow blinks.

I’ve never described her apartment, but now that I guess I live here I might as well.

The layout is identical to what used to be my apartment. It’s sort of a C shape. You walk in the front door and after the short entry vestibule you’ll find yourself passing through the kitchen. To your right will be the sink and dishwasher, framed by the oven and the fridge. To your immediate left will be the door to the bathroom. It doesn’t take very many steps to go from there to the living room, which extends to your left. It doubles as a dining room if you put a table and chairs in half of it. The outside wall, opposite the door, has four windows. Then, if you turn left and walk the length of the room, you’ll find the door to the bedroom, and if you turn to go in there you’ll have turned 180 degrees from entering the apartment. The bedroom’s kind of small. There’s a closet tucked in between the bathroom space and the building’s hallway. To get to the bathroom from the bedroom, you have to walk back through the living room and the kitchen, but it’s not so far that you’ll pee before you get there.

But any apartment in the building will be exactly like that. I don’t think they even mirror them. So, the doors aren’t across from each other in the hallway, you have to go up or down the hallway a little to get to any neighbor.

But what makes it Rhoda’s is what she’s put into it, of course.

Her favorite colors seem to be shades of burgundy, various hues of green, and bone, with accents of gold or brass. And I can’t overemphasize the importance of green and bone in her life. She’s managed to find textiles with patterns of these colors and decorated both floor and wall spaces with them. And then, between woven wall hangings, she has photos of her child, Jacob, and of places that seem important. I know that some of them are places that they’d visited together, and others were related to where her family had grown up. And most of them are black and white, but not all. Those with color are intensely green. And every photo that’s hanging looks like it was taken by a professional photographer preparing for a gallery opening in New York, I imagine.

Very artsy.

She’s the photographer.

In the livingroom, there are the low bookshelves with books I think I should read, topped with ceramics and carved wooden things. Everything there was either found in a thrift store, garage sale, or a free bin. She’s spent quite a long time collecting it all. None of it came from her parents, I’m told. She’s as proud of it as I am of my junk, only she has reason to be.

And interspersed between all of that is her crochet supplies and projects.

The central piece of her living room is her coffee table which, as I’ve described before, is full of magazine clippings of animals from all over the world. Many of them are pretty standard fare for zoos and children’s books, gorgeous creatures that everyone is familiar with. But the rest of them are really exotic and strange, the types of creatures you learned about as a kid but then grew to believe couldn’t be real. Or the bizarre monsters from the deep that you didn’t learn about until just yesterday on your favorite social media or something.

I love that table so much.

What little furniture she has is eclectic and from different eras of design, but still managing to fit her themes of color.

And when I lick the air to enjoy my tea, I also pick up the volatile compounds from all over the rest of her apartment, and her sweat, of course, no matter how much she tries to hide it with soaps, deodorants and perfumes. My tongue is just that sensitive. It's also my favorite scent. Something natural.

The strongest smells, though, are the spices from her kitchen, the wax of the few candles she owns and uses, and her favorite perfume, which is reasonably floral but also a little herby and spicy.

I’ve never been a fan of perfumes of any sort, and hers still stings my tongue now. But I’m developing a sense of comfort in it anyway.

I really like the teas she has, as I’ve been rotating through them, because they’re all strong enough to couch my tongue in their esters and tannins and carry me mentally to various realms of vegetation and imagination.

Anyway, I don’t really see much of her bedroom. It’s her lair, not mine. I get to enjoy my spot in her living space, and sleep on my rug near the door, and that suits me just fine. I’d never fit on her bed with her in it, even as small as I am for a dragon. 

And I can’t sleep in my human disguise. I tried it once, and woke up in full dracoform. It really is like holding a muscle tight. I can’t help but relax it when I lose consciousness.

I can start sleeping on the roof again, though, with Säure gone. But I’m probably going to save that for the warmer months, unless Rhoda needs me to give her more space.

It doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen, though, because right now she’s talking about eventually moving and asking me if there’s any way I could move with her. By which, I mean she wants me around wherever she goes, apparently.

“I love the community here. I really do. And if I do move, I’m going to really miss the coffee shop. Maybe more than I’m willing to admit. But, Meghan, I still always feel like an outsider here,” she says. “I need… more diversity. I can’t put it any other way. I need more people who are like me, and I need more different kinds who aren’t. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes,” I say, because I’m pretty sure I know what she’s saying. Not because I feel remotely the same. I don’t need to. This makes sense to me.

My people, dragons, are extraordinarily diverse. But, before we knew we were a people, I was living amongst so, so many human beings who looked like me, and I was as lonely as anyone can get. However, very, very few of the people in this town are like Rhoda. It’s gotta suck.

The whole Pacific Northwest is notoriously bad for this. But, within this region, even moving down to Seattle would give us a wider range of people to meet and interact with, if we can get past that Seattle freeze thing.

That’s the other problem with this area. It takes a long, long, long time and some sort of secret password to get past friendly acquaintance to make a close friendship around here. Or, even to simply be considered a local. Some people were born here and have never been able to achieve it.

“I know that moving’s a really fraught topic for you dragons, of course,” she continues. “You’ve got your territories, and your humans, and your own politics. But, do you think you could look into it for me? Explore the idea?”

I tilt my head in question.

“You know I’m not moving without you,” she says. “Consider that a given.”

I pull my head up a little higher.

“Don’t give me that,” she says. “Meghan, I’ve adopted you. I’ve thought long and hard about this. I’ve had my moments. And I want you to really understand this. I’m not your prize. I’m not something you’ve just won by surviving whatever’s just happened. I found you. You’re part of my hoard. And I guess I like taking care of you, when you’re not galavanting around doing dragon shit all day, and I don’t want to stop doing things that I like. We should all get to do things we like.”

I very carefully smile at her instead of doing anything else, to make sure she knows I’m acknowledging her.

“And, also, about the immortal thing,” she says, taking an even more stern tone. “I’m going to tell you that I hear you. And I accept you. Even if you turn out to be some monstrously long lived thing of narrative spirit or something. Even if you see the end of the universe as you said. I think I’m even ready to accept that. Because, right now, you’re just you, and I get to know you as you currently are. And that’s what matters to me. But also, maybe because it gives me something that I find I can’t let go of.”

She stops. She doesn’t explain that. There’s a little bit of a tear in her eye, but she doesn’t wipe it. She lets it sit, and then nods.

“We’ve got to get you another tablet or something. I like talking, but I like hearing your voice, too,” she tells me. Then she leans over to fish her phone out of her purse, which she then turns on and puts down on the table, pushing it toward me. “Use that. You get to tell me anything you need to, you know. Tell me I’m full of shit with this move thing, if you have to. Though I might well argue with you about it if you do.”

I pull myself into my princess disguise to pick up the phone and open the AAC app, saying with my syrinx, “Thank you.”

“Of course, Sweetheart,” she says.

Then I type out what I can, “I don’t feel like talking. I am enjoying my silence. Talking is work. I’m Tired.”

“Yeah, OK,” she says. “After yesterday, you get to be tired. We all do.”

We sit and enjoy each other’s company for a while, like we’ve gotten used to, and it’s good.

Then I say, “My family is in Seattle. I want to visit them. It might go bad.”

She nods, and says, “I’d go with you if I could. But don’t let me hold you back, if flying down there’s easier.”

I smile. Then I decide to offer her another thought, thumbs tapping the screen rapidly, “I think if I move, it will have to be out in the country, away from any cities. On the edge of any territories.”

I try to do that thing where humans move their mouth sideways and attempt to look sardonic, or wry, or conciliatory. Like a visual, “I’m sorry, but I also understand.” 

She reacts like I got it right.

“Let’s survive the next few months and give it some years,” she says, waving her hand. “I’ve still got lots of bacon cinnamon rolls to eat downstairs, anyway.”

I frown in my way, which means I open my little human mouth a little, and type, “You helped me so much. I wouldn’t be the me I am now without you. Moving will help you. What else?”

“Friendship isn’t an exchange or trade, Meghan,” she says.

“What else?” I repeat.

“Well, OK, you’re holding it,” Rhoda leans forward a little and points at her phone. Then she jerks her head up and says, “Exit out of that app and click on Docs. Open the first file and read it.”

I do as she says, and while I do she continues talking a little.

“I can’t remember if I told you I was writing this. But I’ll repeat myself anyway.” She points at the phone some more, poking her finger at the air. “You really are the only person I know who can help me edit it. At least before I send it to a publisher or something. Either way, I need you to read it. Please.”

After another moment’s pause she speaks again.

“I told you that you had a lot in common. I don’t think I’ve said just how much. Maybe I was embarrassed or something. Maybe in denial.”

—

Jacob

Preface

I will never be done grieving, but it’s been too long and I am more than ready to start celebrating my child’s life again. I invite you to do it with me.

Let’s let him live in these pages and our hearts!

On August 24th of this year (2024), something strange happened to us all that I think he would have just loved. Three days later, it was his 26th birthday. And on that day, I decided to give my best friend a present in his name, though I didn’t tell her that at the time.

It was a small, cheap gift, one that cost me only a couple dollars for an app. It was the ability to talk. And I think that may have changed everything for her. Just like it did for Jacob and me when he finally put his own words together.

Talking isn’t the most important thing a person can ever do. There’s lots of other ways to communicate, too, of course. But so much of what we do in the world with each other is use words.

So when someone doesn’t talk when you expect them to, it can be profound. It can, sometimes, shake you to your core.

When your child doesn’t start talking at least by the age of two, you know something is going on. When the silence goes on to three and four years old, you start looking for reasons and maybe you start thinking you should have looked earlier.

But with Jacob, I had a way of talking without our voices a lot of the time, and that felt special. He taught me how, honestly, by reaching for what he wanted.

Once I realized that that was all I was going to get out of him for a while, I would see if he wanted anything by holding up various objects or foods to see his reaction. And if he ignored me, I knew he didn’t care for it. But if he looked at it and reached for it, it was his to have. And he did reach for me, too. At least I had that.

Over time, and fairly quickly, we developed a lot of ways of communicating non-verbally. Some of them were just like how most people do with their families, and others were unique between the two of us. But I’ll get into that in the rest of the book.

Maybe to the point that I’m getting to, I  also knew he could hear me, because I started reading and talking to him as soon as he was born. And even though most of the time he didn’t show the kind of outward interest that most children are said to show, he still would react to my voice sometimes. And when he started walking, he’d actually mind me, especially if I explained why I wanted him to do things or avoid other things.

I didn’t have nearly as much help as I should have, especially since I wouldn’t let his sperm donor into his life, or mine. And that is all I will mention about that man in this book, or ever. But without that help, I also didn’t have a lot of voices telling me what I should or shouldn’t do to parent him, and I went with what seemed to work for him. And I went with love.

I think that is so important. And he did show love back, in his own way.

That I was able to do this still amazes me, though. I had good friends at the time, who watched him too, and let me lead in parenting him, and I’m sure that’s what saved us both.

People really need their friends.

In any case, here is the part that I think is relevant to so many people now.

His favorite book right from the getgo was Everyone Knows What a Dragon Looks Like by Jay Williams and Mercer Meyer. So I read that to him every day. In the first days I was reading it to him it was really beyond his comprehension, but I loved the artwork so much that I just had to show it to him anyway. But I think he got it pretty quick.

And then, when we started going to the library together, he’d drag me over to the section where all the dragon books were and pick out a new one for me to read to him over and over again while we had it checked out. This was during that time when dragon books were all the rage and coming out in droves. It was the best timing.

And if this seems like a coincidence to anybody, I assure you it’s not. It is, absolutely, one of the reasons I was drawn to my best friend. When she spoke in the coffee shop about dragons, which she did whenever anyone mentioned them for some reason within earshot (and you really wouldn’t be surprised how often that happens in a college town coffee shop), it always reminded me of Jacob. When she was able to talk like that, she had the same manner as he did.

Because, I did, one day, finally get to hear Jacob’s first words.

You know, when you start hearing about autism, you start hearing stories like this, and you might think, “Oh, no. That’s too fantastic to be true.” Or, “None of the autistic children I’ve known have been like that.” But autistic people are all so different. Each one is such a unique treasure, with their own unique joys and challenges. And occasionally, one of them is just like one of the stereotypes or fairy tales.

Jacob was hyperlexic. By age six he was insisting on reading all of his own books, silently at the table, back straight, flipping the pages himself, when most children are still struggling to learn to read in first and second grade.

And, of course, I let him, because I was proud of him and it gave me time to get other things done.

Then, one day, without looking up from his book he said, in a bit of a clipped carefully pronounced monotone, “Mama. Did you know that some people used to worship dragons. They made friends with them. And fed them food. And the dragons protected them and kept them safe.”

He didn’t know how to inflect a question to make it sound like one, but I was shocked. 

Of course, I knew the first words out of his mouth would be about dragons, if he ever spoke. Dragons were his passion. His first special interest, as the doctors would say much too late in his life. But I was not prepared for full sentences.

I think I was too floored and thrilled that my child was so articulate that I didn’t realize just what he was saying, even when he said the next thing.

And then he looked right at me.

But not in the eyes.

And said, “You feed me, so I will protect you.”

[inbabylontheywept]

Dale of the Dales: Part 1

The Dales were home to the hillfolk, a happy people, but also the only group shorter than the gnomes. Commander Alfonse Sprocket had been prepared to discuss the surrender of Honnillee with someone quite a bit… shorter.

“Welcome, welcome, how do you do? I’m Dale Chesher, named after these self-same lands, yessiree. Something to drink?”

The situation was so surreal that he didn’t fight against the warm mug of tan liquid forced into his hand. He took a sip and winced: The tea was far too sweet, syrupy even.

Alfonse hadn’t actually met a human before this moment. Apparently, they didn’t take to the altitude of Gnicaea very well. Most of the trade the two cultures experienced came second hand from the dwarves, who were friendly enough, but prone to exaggeration. When he’d heard the dwarves talking about the scale of a human, he’d written it off as a cultural tendency to lionize their friends.

Apparently, he had failed to give his fellow mountain-folk appropriate credit. The man in front of him was easily twice his height, and thrice his breadth.

“You’re the mayor of this town?”

Dale shrugged.

“We got maybe a hundred folk down here in Honnillee, we ain’t nearly so formal as that. If someone needs to be in charge for a spell, we let em’, but it ain’t a lifelong deal. Titles go to yer head like cheese goes to yer thighs, that’s a Chesherism, free-a-charge.”

He swept a hand towards the dining room, cutting off the Commander from further interrogations.

“If you got any more questions, it’d be easier to ask them sittin’ down. If the Gods wanted me to spend my life standin’, they wouldn’t have given me such a soft ass, that’s a second Chesherism for ya. Our folk don’t dine much together, more’s the pity, so we’ve got two options so far as the table’s concerned: We got a booster chair you could use to sit at my very own personal dining set, carried all the way from the Malantai, or I could sit criss-cross-applesauce here at a table that the Midford’s lend me for the evenin’, bless their teenie-tiny hearts hearts. You’re the guest; choice is yours. ”

The avalanche of words was hard to keep up with. Worse, the man didn’t even seem to be doing it on purpose: His face was placid, almost serene, and his every movement had a sort of lazy-summer-sluggishness to it.

He could do this all night. Alfonse, on the other hand, could feel his strength draining with every moment he wore his ceremonial armor. He was supposed to come here armed to the teeth, plated in silver, an angel of war in a land of peace. He was supposed to be terrifying.

Craning his head almost forty-five degrees up just to make eye contact did not make him feel very terrifying.

Less than thrilled by the prospect of craning his neck the whole night, he weighed his options: He could accept the use of the booster seat, which would put him at eye level, although he wasn’t sure how he would manage to get up there. Perhaps a ladder would be produced? Or, if none were sturdy enough to handle him in full armor, perhaps a ramp?

Alternatively, he could use the standard size table, which would leave him with an aching neck to match everything else.

Easy choice.

“I would like to use your dining set, Master Chesher. The craftsmanship is remarka-”

He was cut off mid-sentence as Dale casually scooped him up, crossing the entire room in three easy strides before dropping him casually into the chair. The indignity of it was almost as infuriating as the casual display of strength was intimidating.

Almost.

Fear held his temper in, but it did little to curb other emotions. His mouth was desperate to say something about what had just happened, and the odd lingering smells in the upholstery of the seat gave it an outlet.

“I...Why does my chair reek of boiled peas?”

Dale shrugged, slightly embarrassed.

“Ah, well, normally this here seat is used by babs still sprouting their fangs. Boiled peas and carrots are delicacies for em’, but you know how it is when you’re feeding a ween, they wind up wearing as much as they eat! And they eat a good deal sir, a very good deal, humans don’t get this big by being dainty-like. Been a long time since I’ve had any runnin’ around the house though. Miss my little scamps.”

Ah. So this was a child’s chair. He hadn’t counted on that. He deflated in his chair before forcing himself up right again, consoling himself.

Ah hell, it wasn’t like the shock and awe had been working well anyway.

“I see. Well, Master Chesher, are you ready to discuss the details of your hamlet’s surrender?”

Dale winced.

“My boy, I done told you: I ain’t a mayor and Honnillee ain’t mine. It ain’t anyone’s. Only people with any claim to the ground near here at them that’s buried underneath it, there’s a third Chesherism for ya.”

“I am not a ‘boy’, and we’ve heard this claim from the hill-folk before. All that you’ve said is both well known, and highly contrary to how Gnicaea sees things. This document isn’t going to write itself Master Chesher, so if you would quit stalling and-”

Dale exploded up, his chair miraculously keeping its balance even as it slid across the room and slammed into the wall.

“It’s called hospitality, Alfonse, and you may not get our ways but under this roof you sure as sin are gonna respect em’! Now this is how our evenin’ is gonna go: We’re gonna eat our vittles like civilized-folk cuz I’m an old godsdamned widower and I baked you a shepard’s pie with the late wife’s recipe, first time I done touched an oven in ten years, and I cried into it thinkin’ about her, so you owe me big for that, you hear? Then, we’re gonna have two drinks apiece out on the porch because it is a nice summer evenin’ and a man can be too sober for a thing just as easily as he can be too drunk, and you sir strike me as a man that’s been two drinks too sober since he was born. We get those done, evenin’s yours. And if you even think about talkin’ any more business before those’re done, I swear, I swear, I’m gonna hang your shiny metal ass off that chandelier over there and leave you there until the sun doth rise or my house doth burn, whichever comes first. Are we clear?”

Alfonse blinked once, twice, three times. He’d been in the military a long time, climbed his way from boot camp all the way to the top. He’d been happy enough when he reached a rank where he didn’t get reamed on the daily, but it’d been so long that he’d dealt with anything besides excessive ass-kissing that he didn’t know what to do. To be honest, it was actually pretty damn refreshing.

He realized that Dale was still waiting for him to speak.

“Crystal clear, Dale. Just got one question for you.”

The human glared at him, suspicious as he’d ever been.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Does it get any easier?”

Dale’s face twisted up in confusion.

“Does what get any easier? Bein’ an old grump? Every damn day.”

Alfonse scratched the back of his head. Yeah, that hadn’t been a very clear question.

“No. Being a widower.”

There was a pause as Dale searched his face for any sign of lying, even a hint of manipulation.

He couldn’t find any, and the suspicion gave way into a begrudging sympathy.

“Ah. No. You just get stronger. Gimme a moment, this’ll be easier to talk about while eatin’ pie.”

Alfonse nodded, watching as the giant left. He was surprised at how empty the room felt without him. They’d barely been talking for two minutes, and he already felt closer to this stranger than he’d felt with anyone back home in years.

He had a moment to think back on how the dwarves described humans, beyond just their height, and couldn’t help but marvel at the accuracy. To think that this was the one thing you could trust a dwarf to be honest about. What was the phrase that he’d heard at the tavern, all those years ago...

Humans bond with strangers like they’re friends, friends like they're family, and family more than life.

He wondered where he stood on that list. It'd been a while since he'd had a friend.

[serknighted]

Hey there, hello! Welcome to tumblr! Please tell me about your OC, I'd love to know about them! As much as you feel like writing down!💖

Thank you for the ask :D!

So I have... a few OCs for Fallout (This isn't even all the Fallout characters I have, just some of the ones I write about the most). The one I probably focus on the most though is the first one, on the left. His name is William S. Moore (although we'll just be calling him Moore, since that's what he prefers to go by). I might make more posts for the other three (plus the ones who don't have full references yet) in the future! But for now... I wanna talk about my little guy...

(pictured: a young Nora and Liam Moore)

William Shepard Moore, Sole Survivor of Vault 111, Sad Widowed Father of Several

(Pre-war)

Born the 9th of September of 2033, Moore's family originates from Ireland-- however, they quickly relocated to America to seek better opportunities for their only son, and so the family moves from Europe to Massachusetts. Moore always showed prowess more for history & literature than science, always being fascinated by world history, and more importantly, law. Being raised in a world with a constant fear of Communism, he sought to understand politics and the government that seemingly caused nothing but fear and panic in his family & friends. Despite how gifted he was, he was quite the trouble-maker, and his father believed that enlisting in the army would whip him into shape, just as it had done for him. Graduating at 18 in 2051, Moore decided to take his father's advice, and enlisted in the army.

His behavior was relatively clean while enlisted, and it wasn't until a war-time injury occurred two years later, with shards of grenade shrapnel made its way right near his right eye, that Moore found himself in dire trouble. While he lived and escaped the injury relatively unscathed vision-wise in the end, he was given a nasty facial scar, and the treatments and surgeries were plentiful and painful. Luckily for him, though, the nurse who took care of him most often was another soldier named Nora. When he was inevitably [honorably] discharged to rehabilitate from the injury, he promptly enrolled in college, deciding to study American Law. When he found out that Nora had enrolled in the same college as him, he jumped at the opportunity to try and befriend her, and throughout their long college years, they fell in love, and eventually got married after both got their masters in their respective fields.

Moore had a comfortable life as a lawyer; he was happy with Nora, with plenty of money to spare. Although the two of them believed they would likely never have the family they wanted due to Nora's chronic illnesses, it was discovered that Nora was pregnant with their first and only son-- a miracle baby, to say the least. Such a miracle inspired Moore to finally pursue something he had dreamed of for years, which was running for Mayor of Boston. He believed he could make the world better for his son, and he had already worked so hard on what he would do if he were to run, so he decided to run for office in 2076, just a year before the bombs fell. Although he had many supporters behind his back, his detractors were many; it had become exceptionally clear through media leaks that Moore had not been given the most mentally stable of minds, and many believed his PTSD made him entirely unfit for office; some using it as ammo to fire at his more left-leaning values. Moore was already exceptionally shy, but this treatment made him regress into his shell-- he forced upon himself a "perfect political persona," of sorts, completely repressing anything undesirable, and causing him to become more toxic in his own views of his masculinity. He would never get to see if this strategy worked, as the bombs fell before election day.

(pictured: post-war Moore)

(post-war)

Moore's story has many themes; it is him finding who he is while trying to survive the wasteland, and just as importantly, trying to find the family that he had lost so many centuries ago. The Wasteland of the Commonwealth is a ravenous, unloving beast, but while it may be cruel, there are some hidden good-sides to its chaos.

The first few months out of the vault were a kind of hell that Moore cannot even remember. He actually has no recollection of the time he spent in Diamond City or Goodneighbor, much to the dismay of Hancock. No one (including Moore) knows how he survived so long by himself, given the intense dissociative episodes from the new trauma of losing his entire family, and the Commonwealth itself being a never-ending reminder of the battlefield. The only reason he found his footing was because he had managed to accidentally stumble into Goodneighbor; the kindness of the residents to take him in and nurse him back to health while he was in his absent, half-dead state is one he can't remember, but still appreciates. Hancock was the one who paid out of pocket for the stranger to receive treatment ("no one is dyin' in my town. Not if I can help it.").

He befriends Preston Garvey afterwards, and the small group begin rebuilding what they can as they try to help Moore find his son. Moore takes quite well to the role of a leader of the Minutemen; he didn't think he would, but it makes him feel a bit better knowing he has people to back him up. It takes him many, many months to begin tracking down leads for where the Institute and his son might be, and he makes a few unlikely friends along the way... mainly the Mayor that took care of him way back when.

Moore is bad at forgetting, and hates remembering. He only travels constantly because he feels the need to be away from things that remind him of a life he no longer has. Nothing hurts more than the loss of his wife. Nora was more than the world to him; she took care of him, and he dedicated his life to her in return. Sanctuary reminded him of her, the songs on the radio about love, the giant Hubflowers that bloomed her favorite color... He hated remembering her, because he hated that he could never have her, again. His strong, fiery, extroverted wife, with a passion for ridiculous clothes, a girl who always spoke her mind.

...It sounds a little familiar, huh?

He didn't really realize this with Hancock, at first. He just thought he enjoyed the company, enjoyed not being alone... but when he did realize, it was initially so painful that he sent John home, much to the despair of seemingly both of them. So many things about their relationship was deeply painful. He had so far buried the idea of being queer, the idea of being vulnerable around someone, the idea of being himself... that he had forgotten what it was like to be happy with his life.

It takes him a while to really unpack this. To realize how much he'd accidentally fucked over his friendship with a man who had gone out of his gosh-darned way to take care of him... Just like Nora did. It's a lot to deal with the realization that you don't like the person you made, but it's a start. He realizes how much he actually cares about the people around him, the society he's helping foster... and that if he doesn't tell them now, he may never be able to, tomorrow.

While he falls in love both literally with someone and with the community he swears to protect, he finds the Institute, and his son. The son who terrorizes everything he now loves. It's hard for Moore to bear; the baby his Nora was so, so excited to love, is now telling him to his face that he cared little about the lives of his own parents. And despite how much it pains him, he can't let go. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it), the world had already decided for Shaun to go, and so Moore spent his time learning about the facility around him as he watched his only flesh and blood pass.

Taking up the role of the Director, Moore is uninterested in "destroying" the Institute; there is too much good being done here to slaughter so many innocent people. He essentially tells the boards, "we cannot keep torturing the people on the surface, and if you don't discontinue these unnecessary projects my son started, I will be more forceful," and with some... helpful suggestion from the Railroad and his now much-larger Minutemen army, he successfully turns the Institute into a place of proper medical study and aid for the surface. In return, he stages a false explosion on the surface; the people of the Commonwealth now truly believe the Institute is gone, and with the boogeyman dealt with, the Institute could operate in relative peace, with the silent safety-net of the Minutemen army (given they honored their side of the deal: no more synths, more research in cultivation and medical science).

(pictured: post-story Moore)

Nowadays, Moore serves as a kind of Governor for the top-half of the Commonwealth, controlling most of the Greater Boston Area and above. He is romanced with Hancock (obviously), and spends most his time dealing with legal Government work, as well as trying to keep peace between his land and the land that the Gunners and Rust Devils claim. Although he's not perfect, he's learned what he's here for, and has found more peace and love within himself that he did not have before the war. He's also cybernetically-enhanced; thanks to an "accident" regarding laser rifles, his left eye was amputated and replaced with a prosthetic (formerly synth) eye, and he also has similar life-extension technology that Kellogg used to use. He tries to live a quieter life with his synth son Shaun and his partner John with the rest of his friends, but God knows that Plot Shenanigans love striking.

That's all the major information on Moore!! If you actually read this entire post, thank you! I appreciate it. And thank you for the ask again! I was honestly procrastinating on posting him for a while despite how much I absolutely adore him ;_; .

[eegasleega-will-change-this-l8r]

Cannot overstate how much I love this sad old man

Mr. Geldegarde Monotoli, mayor of Fourside, rich in fame and fortune, servant of Master Giygas, absolutely sopping wet pathetic old loser who bit off WAY more than he could chew

I started writing my fic about him and Porky just because I thought their dynamic could be funny to explore, then as I wrote it it just naturally developed into the central theme of Monotoli seeing the good kid within Porky and trying to bring it out by being the kind and caring person he never had in his life and aaahhhhhh (god i haven't worked on it in ages i need to get back around to it aojdjoalkdjdk)

So I love Monotoli because he's a big spineless coward and I just love pathetic characters, but unlike, say, Aloysius, he's not an actively terrible person He gets caught up in his own ambition and greed and then immediately gets slammed in the face by the consequences of his actions Constant visions and nightmares, the guilt of everything he's done, his natural anxiety and fear being amplified by the Mani Mani statue, Porky (a fate worse than death) So he's stuck in this position and deal that he's suddenly realized he doesn't want, forced to continue to do more evil for Giygas

BUT he's also a good person!! He sees the good in Porky and wants him to be safe and happy, he makes sure to treat Paula well when he has to kidnap her, he immediately helps Ness and his friends when he's finally broken free of the statue, he's actually a very sweet guy when he's not being ordered around by a horrifying demonic evil

So I see Monotoli as being a guy with a pretty strong set of morals, horrified at the idea of doing anything wrong, but who got caught up in Fourside's business culture and becoming rich and influential Unfortunately he absolutely was not cut out for it and suffered failure after failure, until when he was at his most desperate he was approached with a deal He took it, rode the high of being on top for a couple days (in which he was incredibly nasty), then abruptly crashed as the ramifications set in His ending in the game is really sweet to me, having given everything he had wanted so much before back to everyone and taking a simple job as a doorman

So I always thought of Monotoli being, like, Italian (or Summers...ian I guess) Like his whole role being "businessman buys up the city, runs everything with armed goons, etc" feels like a spin on the mafia (subverted with him being a super meek cowardly guy who doesn't actually like the power he's gotten) Plus "Monotoli" just sounded Italian to me when I first played It's actually Japanese, "Geldegarde" is German for "guards riches" iirc, his name in the Japanese version was "Monomichi Monotoly" which is something like "has-riches steals-riches" So like a different localization of his name could be, like, "Richwealth Burglerson" or something Anyway he's still Italian for me

I see trout yogurt as being this weird niche thing that pretty much everyone finds disgusting, EXCEPT for Monotoli who absolutely loves the stuff It's hard to get in Eagleland (because nobody else likes it) so he has to get it imported, but the prices skyrocketed when it became known that it was Mr. Monotoli's favorite food and everyone started trying to emulate him (the industry completely crashed when he lost his power over everybody and they all realized it was gross)

He's probably Catholic, can't really get into any specifics because I know nothing about religion, but it definitely plays into his dilemma with having made a deal with what's basically the devil and now being forced to do evil

He has like a full-on Mr. Monopoly-type outfit that he wears for special occasions as the mayor I actually drew him in it a while ago but he looks wayyy too cool, if he's this well-dressed he needs to look like someone just poured a bucket of water on him to balance it out (also i meant to give him a sash but by the time i remembered it was too late)

[cloveroctobers]

JESSIE RAYMOND JR. — summer prompts 🍋

A/N: I say this every time, the fandom for all american and definitely HC is basically a ghost town up here and I really don’t get it. I’m here to provide a little something and then dip out again. I also guess it’s time for me to get into summer prompts although it’s still spring y’all lol. Anyways my goal is to try and make these short (didn’t happen!) before summer actually starts and I’m outside ;) so the small group of you that are out there on this site? Hope you like!

PROMPTS: 1.) “I know it’s hot but Jesus, put some clothes on!” + 2.) going fishing but only catching branches and seaweed From these two lists here.

WARNINGS: mostly fluff + “you” reader are given a name + you don’t mesh with Keisha welll in this one + friends having fun with each other basically but not without getting on each other’s nerves a little bit ofc.

SN: I’m just assuming ages here: JR = 20, Damon = 18/19?, you/reader = 19, Simone = 18/19, Keisha = 19, Nate = 20, Thea = 19/20?, Cam = 19 + I feel like Quvenzhané Wallis and Nate are siblings in my head so I casted her as “Morgan” in this.

🍋🌻🍋🌻🍋🌻🍋🌻🍋🌻🍋🌻🍋🌻🍋🌻

To start off the summer season, Thea invited all of you out to her grandmother’s lake house for a week. Initially the tennis player suggested coming out the week after finals back in May but that plan fell through since most of you got caught up in your own tasks.

Simone was supposed to head out to California, wanting to spend time with baby Shay and her parents but something…or someone delayed her trip so she ended up staying with Auntie Amara for a little longer and booked to go back in July. Both Damon and JR were supposed to work down at this youth center for the summer, starting their training on different weeks but the week Damon was supposed to start, was when part of the building collapsed and ultimately pushed the mayor to finally give in and do the repairs.

Thankfully no person or child was hurt but they’ve been fighting for the longest to get some updates on that 1970’s building and the mayor always fibbed saying, “it just isn’t in the budget.” Yet there was no issue constantly throwing money around to throw these events for townsfolk that didn’t deserve it.

Full tea and shade!

JR wanted to help out with the repairs—or at least the cleanup portion but ultimately the head of the center placed him and Damon at another center to volunteer instead. Sure that worked out in JR’s favor since he wasn’t really in it for the money (sure the pay was decent, to have something in your pocket was always a plus, don’t get that twisted!) but he ended up feeling ill for a couple of days resulting in him stepping away from a great opportunity. Damon on the other hand? Stuck around for a little while longer, getting to know the kids and workers along with what this center entailed. Although he wouldn’t be catching the bag any time soon, he figured he still had time to see what he can do with his summer.

Keisha and Cam were spending their first half of the summer together, with him alternating between three houses. Yes, three! Thankfully he had his girlfriend but it’s not like he wanted to be all up on her with her dad back in town—and in the house especially. After their rocky ride this past semester, Cam wanted to see what this summer would bring for them both so he stuck around. Which you didn’t necessarily vibe with but you kept your mouth shut (for now) for the sake of your cousin. You were a Georgia native so it was no question that if Cam wanted to stay in the city more, there was always a open room in your household. And of course over this last semester, Cam and JR got closer—despite the fact that he was dating his cousin! They were will still cool at the end of the day.

As for Nate? Last you heard she was spending lots of time with their baby sister who was just as much as a mess of their older sibling—if not more, according to their social media.

Now here all nine of you are, inside of one of Thea’s grandmother’s vacation homes hoping for a good time. It was only your second day out here in this pale two-story Victorian home, that you personally wouldn’t have guessed would be any of the Mays’ taste but it’s not like you were complaining at all. If there was ever a chance to get away after that hellish semester, you were taking it this summer!

You leaned in the doorway of the upstairs main bedroom, arms lightly folded while pressing one sock covered foot over the other as you chatted away with Thea and Nate.

“Since I really didn’t expect eight of you to show up, it’s my duty as thee host to see what you all like for breakfast.” Thea bounced on her toes, long hair pulled up and away from her heart-shaped face with a claw clip.

Nate sent you a playful side eye before replying, “I honestly expected another post mates order or chef to be doing the honors, Thea. I can’t say I’m not a little gagged to be hearing this this morning.”

Thea fanned her hand at her friend, “please, if you all thought I was going to be in the kitchen when the majority of you showed up late last night, except for you, Willa, you’re all crazier than I thought.”

“Pleased to be of service.” You courtesy, pulling at the ends of JR’s shirt that you sported, which earned a light shove from Nate who rolled their eyes.

Thea clasped her hands with a soft smile, “yeah that’ll be the chef’s job tonight to cater to all your growling bellies so you better enjoy the work I’m putting in for breakfast.”

“Oh, Yes, ma’am.” Nate snapped their fingers before tapping on their chin, “I’m feeling like a egg’s Benedict, preferably with turkey bacon, I don’t mess with pork baby. Or maybe a frittata. What about you, Willa? What are you feeling like this morning?”

You were just rubbing at your eyes, still tired, since you were one of the ones out of the group that didn’t enjoy early mornings, “uh…a iced mocha latte with light ice and almond milk?”

“Almond milk?” Nate scrunched up their nose along with Thea who let out a deep sigh in disappointment, “we do oat milk over here.”

“Yeah well my gut doesn’t care for it so…” you lifted your shoulders with a shrug while the two gasped—like it was the most horrible news they heard this morning.

A form of hands wrapped around your waist, catching you off guard at first before you felt the scratch of his facial hair against your skin as he pecked a kiss to your cheek. Instantly you melted into JR’s frame as he spoke up, eyeing the two you were socializing with out in the hallway.

“My baby don’t need the oats, she’s already thick as it is.”

Nate tilted her head to the side eyeing the brown skinned boy that was all cuddled up this morning, “well, good morning to you too, JR.”

“We love to see the love in the air.” Thea commented making JR smile with a wink, hugging you tighter to his body.

“So what would like for breakfast? and please save us the urge to vomit by saying Willa’s name. Considering…” Nate motioned at JR with their fingers.

A frown suddenly appeared on your face at Nate’s words, making you lean to the side, peeking downwards at JR, making you deeply inhale.

“I know it’s hot but Jesus, put some clothes on!” You whispered yelled at JR who held no shame in his game, simply dressed in some black boxer briefs.

Thea held her hand out, blocking her view of the twenty year old, as JR shifted from behind you and began to flex.

“I mean there weren’t any complaints last night.”

You slapped a hand to your forehead, lightly flinching as you did so.

Nate laughed.

“Please tell me you two didn’t do the deed in my grandmother’s bed?!” Thea hissed at the two.

She was started to regret ever giving you two the main bedroom in the house. There were only three bedrooms and it was a tight squeeze with all nine of you (you and JR in the main bedroom, Keisha, Cam, and Simone in the second bedroom which consisted two twin beds, Damon in the office which actually had a daybed stuffed in one of the corners, and downstairs: Thea slept in one of the large living chairs, while Nate and Morgan slept on the pull-out couch) but Thea was determined to make it work.

JR immediately shook his head, “aye, no. We’re not that disrespectful.”

“Yeah, what kind of couple do you think we are? Keisha and Cam?” You snarked, making Thea cover her giggle with her four fingertips.

Nate let out a low whistle at that, patting at their scalp, knowing exactly how you felt towards the relationship but Keisha was also their old high school best friend. It was too early to get into it right now but if another comment flew…

Thea hummed, “well whatever, this is me telling you two not to get into any funny business. This is not a hotel. I’m gonna go tend to a simple breakfast downstairs, hopefully a hour or a hour in a half should be enough time for you to gather yourselves.”

And with that, Thea spun on her heels, fluffy slippers slapping down the wooden hallway as she made her exit.

“Let’s not act like granny Mays doesn’t have a cleanup crew on standby the second we clear out this place.” Nate muttered to the two, making them snicker.

Thea called from the first floor, “Nate! Come, we have to discuss SummerhouseMV.”

“Oo, that’s my cue! See y’all in a bit!” Nate bid their farewells.

Turning back to Jr, who held a faint dimpled grin on his face, you stepped into the room, squeezing his jaw as you gave him a warning glance, “I thought I told you that this,” you trailed your hand down his torso, enjoying that he shuddered at your mere touch, “is for my eyes only.”

JR smirked as you locked your arms around his neck, “my fault but…you did steal my shirt.”

You hummed, trailing your nose against his, then flicking your eyes to meet his, “why don’t you take it back then, Hm?”

JR licked his bottom lip, one hand pulling you flesh against his hips while the other pushed the door shut behind you, “don’t mind if I do, baby.”

Awhile later everyone eventually made their way downstairs to the main floor, ready to dive into the quick breakfast Thea prepared for you all. The breakfast was full of laughter and chatter until it was time to clean up then get dressed. On the agenda today was just to go across the street and spend the day at the lake, after all it was their first or second day out here—depending on who you ask (some were planning to leave that Saturday or Sunday) but regardless there was nothing wrong with starting off with relaxation.

“If y’all don’t get your asses off the damn boat,” Cam complained, using the back of his hand to wipe the sheen from his forehead after making his way back to the front of the house.

He found no other than you and Thea posing in one boat while Nate’s little sister, sixteen year old, Morgan was snapping away the pics with Thea’s phone.

Morgan eyed Cam up and down, scoffed while giving him the talk to the hand motion, gave Thea back her phone, before taking her leave to head back inside of the house and away from whatever Cam was on.

“Relax Cam,” you fanned the back of your neck, although you managed to get your butterfly locs up and out the way, “let us thrive.”

“I’m the host, I can do what I want. If I want to pose in this crappy boat my granddaddy had shoved away in the basement, I can. If I want y’all to carry me, you will.” Thea flicked out her bamboo folding fan, proceeding to stretch out.

Shaking your head at Thea, you slipped your shades back down over your eyes, fingertips on the edges of the boat, ready to climb out before cousin cam’s blood pressure began to raise.

“Oh yeah? How about I turn this boat into a bowling ball and toss y’all asses into the street, then you’ll really be playing in traffic.” Cam jabbed his thumb behind himself, earning a laugh from a approaching Keisha who walked over, enjoying Cam going off on both Thea and yourself.

Tilting your head to the side you responded, “Be forreal, Cam. You’re not about to throw nobody anywhere, especially me. Its never that serious and It’s too hot to be going back and forth with you and your dragon ass breath.”

Cam huffed, almost stalking forward and making Thea sit up in worry while Damon intervened. “C’mon bro, they’re clearly just messing around. Chill, we’re all family here.”

“It’s too hot for that,” Cam shoved Damon’s hand away from his chest, “and I’m not feeling like playin’ around, when we have to do all the work in this hot ass air.”

Take a shot every time someone says “hot,” today.

“You’re welcome to stay here if you’re going to keep up with this attitude.” Thea carefully climbed out of the boat.

“With you freezing us like it’s the damn North Pole? I rather stay out here in devil’s island.”

“Whoa…don’t tell us you’re some sort of satanist?” Damon questioned, taking a step back while also making Cam’s eye twitch.

“I’m not finna do this with y’all.” Cam pointed, “Let me know when you’re ready because I thought we were supposed to be across the road forty minutes ago.”

He stalked off to sit on the front steps of the house by the bags, snacks, and other accessories everyone was planning to bring to the lake.

Thea glanced down at her manicure, still fanning herself with her other hand, “What’s up his butt?”

You immediately glanced at Keisha who glared at you and now Damon who stared at her.

“What’re you guys looking at me for?”

“I mean you would know…he was fine yesterday.” You answered with a shrug of your shoulders.

Keisha turned her eyes into slits, “Some people just get aggravated in the heat…and cam woke up with a crick in his neck. That’s all I know, so maybe don’t continue spreading your hater energy around.”

“Hater?” You raised your brows before looking around confused, “what’s that?”

“I’m looking right at her.” Keisha scowled, placing her hand on her hip.

Rolling your eyes you ignored her by saying, “anyways…”

Thea shook her head at you two while Damon sent her a grimace before she raised her arms up in the air as everyone else began to pile out of the house, “finally! I’m all for being fashionably late people but come on! I’m a little bit with cranky cam on this one…the sun is only getting hotter and I need a serious dip in the water! Let’s go!”

“Girl it’s only 1pm. We have the entire day ahead of us.” Simone responds, stomping down the stairs.

You were expecting the two to go back and forth but it seemed like Thea and Simone were on good terms for this trip so far. It was a love and hate thing with those two so you weren’t sure how long the love would last.

A brief breeze went by along with the humid atmosphere, making you take a small but thick swallow as it tickled your nose a bit. Exhaling you reached into your Jean shorts pocket, pulling out a tissue before you walked off to cater to your sinuses.

“Babe! You good?” JR called out to you from behind.

The post nasal drip was not as bad today but certainly still lingering around. After clearing your nose out you spun back around, your eyes meeting JR’s who stood some distance from you; now holding onto one end of the boat while Damon held onto the other.

Giving a thumbs up you nodded, “yeah, I’m fine. You?”

JR was in the bathroom for a minute this morning, playing it off as a bad decision to eat cookout so late due to his and Damon’s arrival last night. Something inside of you felt like that wasn’t a hundred since JR’s been sick a couple of weeks back way before he started at the center, so of course you wanted to make sure he was okay and not just a case of the bubble guts.

Just like he wanted to make sure the same with you. You had surgery to remove some nasal polyps almost two weeks ago and was stuck with some prescribed nasal sprays.

“Ain’t no thing.” JR shrugged his shoulders with a gleaming grin, appearing so handsome.

“Alright then,” you clasped your hands together turning your attention to the girls that gathered their own bags from the steps, “let’s roll!”

“Hey!” Thea cut in, jumping down onto the front lawn after locking the house, “that’s my line.”

Raising your hands as you walked by the glaring bronzed skin girl, you gave wide eyes to Simone who sucked her teeth at Thea’s antics.

Soon everyone began lugging their items down the stone steps towards the sidewalk, leaving You behind as you began digging your bag in search of hand sanitizer and your medicine. Bringing the spray into your left nostril, you sprayed more of it on that side since that side gave you more trouble due to the size of the growth that was inside.

“C’mon Lisa Zemo.” Cam called out to you, still standing on the lawn where he stood with Nate, carrying the second boat towards the other set of stairs.

Tossing the medicine back into the bag, you hauled it onto your shoulder and spun back around, giving a middle finger to the dark skinned boy, “I’ll let that one slide. Look at you Cam, getting your lick back. I’m proud.”

“I’m the best clap back king at this crib, please act like you know.” Cam tossed in over his shoulder.

Nate sent you a look, peering up from their phone as you stood beside them. Silently they handed their phone over for you to hold in your much bigger purse for them. Passing through the empty parking spot by the curb, you halted watching the street before you crossed the first section. The other street that had cars going west ended up being more hectic to cross, leaving the three standing there for a good two minutes before they all made it across to the greenery that awaited them.

“Uh uh, what are y’all about to do with that?” Keisha asked the boys who gathered up their equipment.

Damon grinned, “We’re going fishing so we can make dinner tomorrow. You’re welcome.”

Keisha pointed as she lounged on her elbows on a towel, “in this lake?”

“We can just go out to this upscale seafood place instead. That was supposed to be Wednesday’s plan for brunch but things can be rearranged.” Thea told the boys as she finished spraying her sunscreen.

“Y’all can just sit back and let us work. Don’t worry about it, we got it.” Damon reassured.

Simone scoffed, pushing up from her squatting position, “oh no. You don’t get to tell us what we as women should do, what if we want to fish?”

“Oh nah, I didn’t mean it like that—

Damon started.

“Um, I don’t really want to do that so I’m completely fine swimming and tanning so no thanks. Have at it, k? Bye.” Thea kept her cover-up on as she walked to the waterline.

Keisha laughed but stopped short as Simone turned her glare towards her. “Yeah I’m kinda with thea on this one. It’s not for me.”

Simone asked, “Have you ever tried?”

“No and I don’t plan to.” Keisha tossed herself back onto the towel.

Simone turned her attention to Nate’s little sister, seeing her laying on her side turned away from the group, “hey, Morgan.”

“Girl no.” Morgan stated, “I’m napping.”

“I can see you scrolling Twitter!”

“That’s that heat getting to your eyesight. What do they call it? A mirage? Yeah that’s probably what you’re experiencing, I’ll pray for you.” Morgan spoke with a yawn.

Which earned a look of disbelief on Simone’s face while everyone else laughed at the teen’s words.

Soon you, Nate, and Cam made your way to the group’s set up. The two places the boat next to the one Damon and JR carried just as Simone smiled at you.

“Willa! We’re going fishing!” Simone looped her arm with yours, just as you placed your things by Thea’s towel.

You debated, “sitting in the scorching Georgia sun hunting fish or go swimming? Hm I don’t know.”

Making a scale with your hands you dropped them, raising the swimming above your head while JR smirked at you.

“I heard from Willa’s grandpappy that she used to catch all the fish with him back in the day.” The man started before saying, “Makes sense since she’s quite the catch herself.”

Cam gagged, “and you my brother, are quite corny.”

Which earned snickers from the rest.

“Leave my man alone.” You swatted at Cam who walked by to place his own towel between Keisha and a “sleeping” Morgan.

Simone poked you, “Sooo what do you say?”

“I say we should leave Ariel’s family where they belong.” You poked the doe-eyed beauty back.

Keisha commented, “I mean can you even go swimming? Considering the whole nostril issues you’re having? Fishing might be your best bet.”

Simone secretly thought about this but also knew how it came across.

“I don’t need your fake concern, thanks.” You snapped at Keisha who remained stretched out and in peace.

“Hey, I’m just saying! We don’t need any special ER trips on this vacation, it’s supposed to be fun. It’s summer after all and we don’t need anybody ruining it.”

“Then why don’t you shut the hell up?”

Oh yeah, that Watkins energy was flaming right about now.

“Aye, c’mon now. That’s not what we’re here for.” JR tried to ease the tension while Simone sighed at you two.

She wished the both of you could just be cordial—like her and Layla!

“Fine,” you forced a smile on your lips, “anything to get away from this funkiness.”

Simone shushed you on your way by as you stood on the side of the boat, watching the two brother’s as damon tended to one of the rods and JR checked on the live bait.

“Hand me a hook, Simone.” You directed the girl who stood on the opposite side of the boat.

Damon quickly spoke up as he noticed JR eyeing him, “Uh, I’ll take care of that since I already started on this one and not because y’all aren’t capable.”

Simone humphed as she crossed her arms at the bucket hat wearing eighteen year old.

“Cam, Nate? What y’all doing?” JR looked over at the two.

Nate turned on their mini portable fan from beside Morgan as they looked out at the lake. “That fishing mess is not for me. I’ll be right here tending to my bundles and maybe I’ll take a dip in the lake later, to see which white boy is flirting with miss. thea.”

“Bundles?” Cam asked not caring one bit who thea chose to flirt with, “I know you did not bring your hair out here.”

“And what about it, Cameron?” Nate turned to the braided boy, shaking the hair out as if they were fanning themselves with it.

Cameron blew air out his lips, “imma mind my business. I’ll be in the water, y’all.” He pressed a kiss to Keisha’s temple before he hopped up, chucked up the deuces and jogged away to the water.

“Guess that’s our answer, let’s go ladies.” Damon lifted the boat along with JR, who led the way.

Simone was on competing mode, which Damon found humorous on their side of the boat—while also riling her up just a tad. As the four of you got comfortable on the boat, which happened to be a great distance from where all the water sports activities were occurring up ahead, you found yourself seated right beside your boyfriend, thighs touching as JR was on DJ duty.

His portable Bluetooth sat in the middle of the boat while he tended to his phone that was on shuffle, currently playing some old Drake.

On the edges of the boat sat the rods, floating on waiting for something to catch the bait. The sun was beaming down, darkening each of their pretty hues but the water and being by each other was all the company they needed.

“Hey,” you whispered to JR who was quick to meet your eyes.

Your eyes told him you were okay but a nudge of your head, silently made him aware what you were going to do.

Pulling your left eye graphic t-shirt over your head, you yanked the hot pink dolphin shorts off and jumped over the side of the boat.

“The hell?! Did she just fall?!” Simone quickly looked over her shoulder, breaking out of her banter with Damon, now on full alert for her friend.

JR glanced over to see you re-emerge, brushing the water from your face as a blissful smile split onto your face.

JR responded as he pulled his own shirt off, leaving himself in his initial necklace and trunks, “Nope. Just livin’ life.”

Before he jumped into the water as well.

He latched onto you as you swam along, all smiles as the music played on, staring into each others eyes and happy to be in the arms of the one you love.

Another splash sounded from behind you, revealing Simone who floated on her back with a smile of her own, “I was wrong. The water is the much better choice. My bad guys.”

“You’re forgiven.” You teased the girl.

JR called out to Damon as you wrapped your legs around his waist, “C’mon bro, you’re the only one left, get in here!”

“What about the fish?”

“Man, forget all that!”

Damon sighed as he tossed his hat to the side along with his shirt, “y’all owe us dinner tomorrow.”

“Damon! Damon! Damon!” The three of you splashed, waiting for the boy to take a dive.

Once he hit the water, he snuck up behind the three, full of laughter as he caught them off guard.

Being in the water for what felt like hours with your boyfriend and good company provided just the freeing fresh start of summer that you needed.

“Hey, we lost sight of you guys.” Keisha greeted you guys, hair slightly damp as she tossed grapes into her mouth.

Thea smiled at the four who made their way over, “must have caught a lot to be out there for so long.”

“Let’s see it!”

“Oh, y’all aren’t ready.” Simone sassed, a glint in her eye as she looked back at you who let out a small laugh.

Damon lifted up one bucket while Jr held the other, “Might be our biggest catch yet.”

“Stop with the suspense and show us!” Nate yelled, now standing.

“Alright, y’all asked for it.” JR shrugged with a smile as he followed Damon to stand in front of the group.

The two brother’s both dipped their heads before they lifted their buckets and tipped it over, emptying its contents.

“What the hell is this?” Cam sucked his teeth.

Morgan peeked up from her phone, “I know they lying.”

In front of them sat pounds of seaweed mixed with some branches.

“You guys were out there all this time and didn’t catch a damn thing? What a waste of time.” Keisha clicked her tongue, “I’m glad I didn’t go.”

Although the rest of the group didn’t exactly get it, stamping it as nothing but to past the time, Simone, Damon, you, and Jr understood what that bonding moment meant as you all shared a brief group hug.

Thea did the honors of snapping a picture with her Polaroid just before you all let go.

Lounging beside Jr, you felt the air starting to calm down but that didn’t stop you from putting some more drops up your nose. As you lay your head on JR’s shoulder, the both of you stared up into the periwinkle sky with specs of pink cotton candy forming in the middle.

His warm hand slipped up to intertwine with yours as he croaked out, “did you have a good day?”

“It’s always a good day with you,” you stared down at your conjoined hands, “wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I love you, baby.”

You smiled, angling yourself to place a kiss along JR’s jaw, “I love you too, Jessie.”

And his smile matched yours, sparking hope that there’ll be more summers like these.

彡‗ ❍ 彡‗ ❍ 彡‗ ❍ 彡‗ ❍ 彡‗ ❍ 彡‗ ❍ 彡‗ ❍ 彡‗ ❍

Continue along with my summer anthology prompts here.

[the-storyteller-and-her-soldiers]

Shadow Bringers: A Different Fate

Okay, so I'm still in the SHB expansion, and let me tell you it's given me a ton of ideas! This is one to make it slightly more light-hearted than one it is! But hopefully, I can convey it all where it makes sense but also not spoil it for those who may want to playthrough it blind! Beware either ahead:

So my s/i was sent to the world of the First to deal with the Flood of Light, while the scions handle the ongoing combat with the Garleans.

It's great for a while, I help many people as I learn how Sin Eaters work.

The common folk comes to view me as a beacon of hope during these never-ending days since I am proof that they can be killed without becoming one.

But not everyone is pleased about the destruction of the beasts, specifically the town of lavish splendor: Eulmore.

I'm lured there by peasants who live defenselessly outside the city, those who are impoverished and frail.

It wasn't their fault and they were happy for my help but they didn't help when Eulmore's military ambushed, overwhelmed, and subdued me.

I'm itching for a fight, to cast fires so hot Ifrit's embers are lukewarm, to tear my scythe through each and every one of these purple pricks. But I know if I die, then the people will have naught when it comes to aiding.

So I'm brought before an abomination worse than the sin-eaters, the mayor of Eulmore: Vauthry.

He's appalled I'd slaughter such beauty and makes it clear he wants to kill me. Yet he sure loves to massage his own ego, and that presents me with a chance for a proposition.

I put on the act that I'm blinded and have been brought to the light and that keeping me alive as a servant would do more to stop others who walk in my footsteps than if I were killed and made into a martyr.

He's hesitant, but as I continue to praise him and present myself as submissive, he comes around.

So I've become a bonded citizen in full service to Lord Vauthry. I'm stripped of my weapons, forced to wear aether inhibitors specially made to stop my black magic, and stripped of my armor.

The job is disgusting and humiliating, even if I am little more than a maid decadent in jeweled dresses...

When I'm not serving, I am shoved in a cell with a young girl named Minfilia.

We bond thoroughly, with me taking the brunt of harassment from Vauthry and his general. While I try to help her focus these powers that she doesn't understand...

Though one day we hear about an Elf with snow-white hair who's become a painter to a noble, and I know I'm no longer the only foreign ally here.

This lets me concoct a plan for Minfilia to escape, to go find him and my other allies.

She is wary, encouraging I go since I am more proficient in stealth and battle. But I deny this, knowing that the outrage will be too great for the girl to handle alone.

So one 'night' when the guards are sparse, mainly enjoying the strip clubs or the markets, I enact my plan.

We get the guard to come over by acting like I'm in horrendous pain.

When he opens the door I cast Glare and a stone spell to blind and knock him unconscious. (Thank the Twelve for white magic and elementals)

I insist Minfilia wears their clothes and just walks out. She begs me to go with her, but I need to keep this guard quiet but alive. So it's only her.

It's only hours before the whole military and Vauthry is in a panic. Not to mention I was right, their outrage was immense.

After several beatings, interrogations, and public humiliations later Vauthry has had his 'fun' with me and decides that he'll make a show of me through public decapitation!

I only pray that Minfilia has made it to the Crystarium and my friends to tell them the plan.

Luckily she did, and although a bit thrown off, they make haste to Eulmore to rescue me.

I'm brought before Lord Vauthry dressed in chains and rags, shoved to my knees, and made to bow before their Lord. Many citizens stand in horror and feigned pleasure as Vauthry has some guards present my scythe to the crowd.

This is a show just like any other, and Vauthry soaks in the attention and worship from those around him.

I put on my final act pleading that I don't know where the girl went and was truly put up to this. I'm kicked again in response.

Vauthry makes me an example, listing everything I've done wrong to the brainwashed nobles. He also has to go on and on about what a savior he is.

If I didn't have such a wish to live: I'd beg for him to chop my head off already.

But luckily during his monologue, Alphinaud and Allisae make their way through the crowd. Thancred, Y'shtola, and Urianger aren't too far behind.

Allisae holds off the guards while her brother heals my wounds and gets the chains.

I yell for my scythe, which one of the guards is clumsily swinging around, while Alphinaud begins to also get into the battle.

Thancred is all too eager to be at my back, and for a second I don't recognize him from when we last met.

Now it's an all out war between us, the guards, and the sin eaters that appeared to be Vauthry's pets. Yet the lord himself remains immobile.

This pisses me off since not only is he pompous but his monologue has become a child's temper tantrum. Not to mention, I'm enraged by everything else he did to me and Minfilia.

So I go straight to him and give the beheading that everyone gathered here to see.

Whispering as my scythe digs into the thick flab of his neck, "You really shouldn't lose your head..."

And it lobs off... Instead of blood and gore, his body transforms into a mass of primordial light and enters my body.

The townsfolk, the guards, and even the few living sin eaters go silent. While I plop into the plush pillows he used as a throne...

Y'shtola looks at me with narrowed eyes while Alphinaud, Allisae, and Thancred stare on with wide eyes.

I stare back, unphased. But figure that it's time to get out of here as darkness falls over Eulmore and the sin eaters flee.

I feel fine, but the rest of my allies feel it's best to stick close to me...

I did this because I've always wanted a scene where I get beheaded and felt like this over history homework... Will this sub-AU go further? Maybe....

taglist: @cydanite @floweringforgetfulness @floweringforgetfulness @hadesgoddess @jellyfish-ships @hadesgoddess @canongf @disneymarina @nyandereneko

[whoviancumberbunny]

Stand and Be True

Stand and Be True

An AU Vox machina Fan Fic as sequel to this Written by @demigoddessqueens​

Story By Melissa C. Scraper @whoviancumberbunny​

 Annie had known she was being followed but she was still on edge when she whirled around with her gun half cocked “Cry Pardon. My name is Anastasia and I am looking for the people who kidnapped my twin brother. He’s the only family I have had since our mother went to the clearing when we were seven.”  She relaxes “ I can’t take full credit for the creation of my gun. The idea was mine but Declan, designed. I have never been very good at drawing.”  She put her gun back in her bag.  “our father is alive but he was told by a witch that she died when she burned at the stake for being a whore.  It wasn’t her chose to be sold off to the mayor at age 16.” She looked into his eyes her own eyes were piercing blue.  “my brother and I grew up in the hometown of our father. When he realized she was pregnant he told to go there and tell his father who she was and she would be given sanctuary.”

 Percy sat in the chair and watched her “what is your family name?” something about the way she carried herself said gunslinger with royalty in her bloodline.

 “Deschain, daughter of the last gunslinger of Gilead.  Direct bloodline From Arthur Eld and the daughter of one of his knights of the round table.”  

 He had thought Roland of Gilead was legend who died centuries ago, yet the young woman before him looked no more than 20 years of age.  “You are from Gilead but didn’t it fall to forces of darkness, if I recall history correctly 18 years ago. Which means you witnessed the destruction of your home.”

 Annie “My grandfather, Steven, sent all the children of Gilead to shelters on the outer edges of Gilead. We witnessed the deaths of the fathers of our friends and our grandfather.” She looked at the floor.  “Cry Pardon I don’t mean to burden you with my dark past.”

 He stood and looked at her and “May I give you a hug?” it was when she allowed him to hug that he finally noticed that was petite with dark blonde hair in braid down her back. “I have a dark past too.”  He clenched his eyes closed as he tried to avoid thinking of the day most of his family had been killed.

 She had been alone for the two since her brother was kidnapped and she rested her head against his chest “I just realized you asked my name but I don’t think you told me yours.” It was then they noticed that they were both hungry

 He paused “How embarrassing,  I am Percival  Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III. My friends call me Percy.”

 She laughed “Geez and I thought my name was pretentiously long. My full name is Anastasia Gabriella Jenna Delgado Deschain.  My brother’s name is Declan Alaric William Delgado Deschain. He was kidnapped almost three weeks ago and I was trying to find leads when those guards thought I was a weak female.” She followed him outside to his horse. “Unless you’re determined to be chivalrous I have my own horse, she is grazing in the meadow, her name is Duchess.”

 Percy something Annie drew him in, she wasn’t doing anything for vengeance she just wanted to find her brother “You said you and Declan are twins, do you know which of you was born first?”

 “According to Mother’s journal I was born first?”

 But according to that same entry, the reason they had to flee from convent was because the nuns had been vampires who had wanted to eat Declan and Annie. Since there hadn’t been human to treat for injuries in months. “According to rumors my father burned down the convent I was born in.” she paused “Can we just get food at the trading post and have picnic outside I don’t like eating in the taverns. Because drunks always think woman alone means they can’t attempt to seduce me.”

 “You wouldn’t be alone with me. But I wouldn’t mind being outside.” A short time later.  “You seem to be uncomfortable talking about yourself.” He takes his handkerchief and wipes the crumbs from the corner of her mouth and she blushes “Who taught you to shoot?”

 “We are largely self-taught since the only other living Gunlingers are our friends, Galen and Tessica.  And the harriers went into the desert after failing training.”  She blushed when he wiped her cheek “I have heard tales of Vox Machina and the white-haired Gunslinger.”

 He sighed “Scanlan’s song about us must be getting around.  I was off on my own getting gunpowder when I saw you fighting off the guards.” A human bard happened to be walking nearby and he stood up “Would you care to dance?”

 She stood up and as he held her close they both blushed, even though a darkness was inside him. Percy was actually feeling something he never thought he could, aside from rage and vengeance. The start of love. He had spent so much of his life In the last nearly ten years not letting people into his life. Even in Vox machina he just barely trusted people not to betray “You are just as graceful without a gun as you are with one.” He felt like he wanted to kiss her but they only just met.  

 Annie “Do you hear that? There are robbers nearby planting trap to rob a carriage.”  

 He paused  he could hear it, a group of highwaymen setting a trap for travelers, in split second they went into battle mode. As they got to spot about ten feet from the road “I will take the three on horses you take the two hiding behind the bushes.” Percy whispered.

 “there are four on horses the other two are on the other side of the road.” She replied

 After saving the couple from being robbed “No need to pay us.  We did what we thought was best.”  She paused “Have you heard any rumors of group who kidnapped a 19 year old young man?”

 Woman “Not that we are aware of.” She slips Annie a locket “Long days and pleasant nights.”

 “May you have twice the number.” Annie replied after the coachman Percy cleared the tree from the path the carriage drove off, Annie looked at the locket “This has the symbol of Arthur Eld on it. What does it mean?”

To Be Continue….

Monday, January 23, 2023

[riverdamien]

We Are Free to Choose!

"Sloughing Towards Galilee!

"We Are Free To Choose!

"If anyone wants to be first, he/she must be last of all and servant of all." . ."Whoever welcomes one of these little children in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me does not welcome me but the One who sent me. (Mark 9:35-37 Net Version)."

=======================

Fifteen-year-old Carlos Acutia, soon to be "Saint Carlos" once said:

"What does it matter if you win a thousand battles if  you can not win against your own corrupt passions? It doesn't matter. The real battle is with ourselves."

    How true he is, for I get irritated, and come across as angry, over what are little things, and I feel guilty afterward!

    When I was given my first student parish at 18, my District Superintendent, who continued working until he dropped dead at 100 said to me: "River never tell people your age, it is your business, and they will use it to judge and categorize you, never give away your age!"

    I do not ever tell my age for those very reasons, and I have people who I refuse, make fun of me, criticize, and tease me, and it hurts. I had fifteen emails after my blog yesterday from strangers asking me my age, and I was irritated. People I do not even know!

    Last night I went longboarding with a young friend and listened to him as we did so. Through the years I have been told, "You need to grow up, you are too old to longboard you are going to break your neck, "well considering the fact I have been stabbed shot, and beaten up, I think I am safer longboarding. At least I can run the opposite way! At any rate, I never tell my age, because it will limit my ministry and limit me! Age is a means of categorizing!

    Fr. Henry Nouwen gave the best answer when he commented:

"Is aging away to the darkness or a way to the light? It is not given to anyone to make a final judgment since the answer can only be brought forth from the center of our being. No one can decide for anyone else how his or her aging shall or should be. It belongs to the greatness of men and women that the meaning of their existence escapes the power of calculations and predictions. Ultimately, it can only be discovered and affirmed in the freedom of the heart. There we are able to decide between segregation and unity, between desolation and hope, between loss of self and a new, re-creating vision. Everyone will age and die, but this knowledge has no inherent direction. It can be destructive as well as creative, oppressive as well as liberating.

    John Donahue and Daniel Harrington note that in Aramaic the word talya can mean "servant" and child". So whoever welcomes the servant, welcomes Jesus as well.

    Jesus tells us in serving we come face to face with God. One aspect of service that I seek to present is being visible to the "powers" in their inhumanity to our fellow humans, by sitting at City Hall, this week on Friday at noon with a sign saying:

"Homeless People Are Made in God's Image!

Come and Serve In the Desert of Compassion!

    The Mayor commented that it is time to show compassion by making people get forcing people to get service, which is not true of compassion. So I invite you to join me at 11:00 a.m. on Friday on the Polk Street side of City Hall.

    On Thursday, I am joining the Black Clergy and Allies on a Forty-day fast for a Free, Fair, and Safe Election by fasting from all social media and following Daniel's Fast Diet,. Join me!

    People often ask: "Who is Christ for you? Jesus came truly alive in my years on the street.  The older I become, the closer he becomes, for ultimately Jesus is all that we have.

    I am beginning to understand each day the suffering of Jesus in the midst of all of the suffering in the world.

    Jesus suffers with the ill, the homeless, dispossessed. He suffers with the wealthy, he hurts with each of us, for there is the spark of the Divine within, the potential to reveal the fullness of God! Deo Gratias! Thanks be to God!

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

May the work of

“figuring people out”

Never replace the work of knowing people

And loving people

And giving them room

To confound

And inspire

And surprise me

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

30th Anniversary Celebration

Victor’s Pizza

6 p.m.

November 9, 2024

WE ARE BEGGARS! WE REALLY NEED MONEY--Really Badly At the moment!

FOR FOOD, SOCKS, HARM REDUCTION AND OTHER SERVICES!

P.O. Box 642656

415-305-2124

temenos@gmail.com

pay pal

www.temenos.org

(Temenos and Dr. River seek to remain accessible to everyone. We do not endorse particular causes, political parties, or candidates, or take part in public controversies, whether religious, political or social--Our pastoral ministry is to everyone!

Temenos Catholic Worker

P.O. Box 642656

San Francisco, CA 94164

Dr. River Damien Carlos Sims, D.Min, D.S.T.

e

  .

[gwendolynwcde]

Gwendolyn has been told she’d been different countless times, but to hear it from someone like Noah was welcomed as she knew where he was coming from and how genuine he was towards her. On the topic of Ellie, she hadn’t really coped with the loss in full. While she did attend the funeral, she left abruptly not wanting to dwell in such sorrow and grief. A part of her knew better than to bottle it up, but suppression made things easier and there was no use as it wouldn’t bring her best friend back. “You’re smart for not interfering. She was definitely the spitfire of the group and although it was a double edged sword, it did make things more fun and challenging.” A blissful sigh escaped her lips as she solemnly shook her head, “I wish things turned out differently between us. However, I do understand that vices are a difficult thing to navigate and overcome. I’m also aware that dynamics change and all that, but I’ll be honest and say that a part of me still feels that guilt for completely giving up on her.” It was her choice to set the boundary on their relationship, especially when she couldn’t even recognize her best friend anymore from that point on. Her gaze softened as she reassured Noah with her statement, “You’re one of the good ones you know and if anything Ellie and I were always grateful to have you on our side. I feel like we would have been at each other’s throats more than we could handle, but you kept us in check. She really loved you, you know? You were her blessing in disguise.” 

Once they agreed on a plan for her to meet his children, Gwendolyn nodded in confirmation to offer up her place, “I don’t mind at all, that works for me. I’d love to have them over. Do they have dietary restrictions and any favourite meals by the way? I just want to make sure I have everything covered.” From there her lips were pressed into a thin line as she could understand where Noah’s curiosity was coming from. It was ominous indeed, but she was trying to be proactive and get ahead of all the chaos that was happening in the city. He deserved to know the truth and she wasn’t going to flat out lie that everything had been sunshine and rainbows on her end. “I don’t blame you, you just moved in after all. To confirm, there’s been a series of unfortunate events lately from past mayor’s deaths, missing persons, attempted kidnapping, to name a few, and it’s currently under investigation. My advice is just to be cautious if anything.”

With that being said, she was glad to have caught up with Noah overall, but she knew that she had to eventually do her rounds and check in with her staff that were in charge of security. Finishing up her drink, she set it down on the bar and said, “Good and likewise, let's keep in touch alright? I should get going, I know some important individuals are just waiting excitedly to talk my ear off." Her tone was once again sarcastic, but being a Wade and Chief of Police meant having to show face constantly especially to those in positions of power that she dreaded it. Gwen was just about to walk forward and away from Noah when suddenly her vision went black. The power had gone off and given that it had caught her off guard, she found herself tripping over her own feet as she took a misstep. "Fuck." she hissed out to herself as she braced for impact towards the floor.

"I know you would be. Not everyone thinks the same way. Most people get sensitive," Noah said, flashing her a bright smile that drew out his dimples. "But you've always been different, Gwen. In a good way." A wave of relief washed over him as she responded positively to his honesty. He'd always appreciated that about her—she never seemed to judge him. As she reminisced about their old friend, he found himself transported back to those high school days, a bittersweet ache settling in his chest. "God, you're right," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Ellie could talk the ear off a statue. I swear, sometimes I'd just sit back and watch you two go at it, wondering how anyone could have that much to say." His eyes softened as he added, "I miss her too. More than I can say." For all her shortcomings, Ellie was a cheerleader for everyone around her. The world lost a light when she passed. "I never thought of myself as the glue. I always felt like I was just trying to keep up with you two."

If anything, he was the boring one of the bunch. "That would be great. The twins would love to meet you. And yeah, a picnic sounds perfect. I’m good with wherever. Your backyard would be amazing if you don't mind hosting. The kids love exploring new places, and I'm sure they'd be excited to see where the Chief of Police lives.” It would be a change for the duo. His curiosity was piqued when she mentioned there was a long story behind her role as Chief of Police, but he respected her desire to save it for another time. However, her serious tone when talking about the city's current state had him frowning. "That sounds ominous," he said, his brow furrowing with concern. "I appreciate the heads up. And of course, I promise to let you know if we need anything. Is it really that bad?" He couldn't help but worry, thinking about his kids and their safety. "I guess I've been so focused on getting settled, I haven't really paid attention to what's going on in the city." Her eye roll and disagreement with his self-deprecating comment made him laugh. "Alright, alright. I'll try to be kinder to myself. And you're right, this has been great. I'm really glad we bumped into each other—literally," he added with a grin. 

[avengerscompound]

The Pain in Serendipity - 8

The Pain in Serendipity - A Captain America Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Steve Rogers x F!Reader, Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers (possible polyamory in future).

Rating: E

Word Count:  1751

Warnings: aftermath of the snap, grief

Synopsis:   When Thanos snaps his fingers it takes your daughter and Steve Rogers’ first love with it.  Together you pick up the pieces, falling in love and building a family together.  Finding serendipity in your shared trauma.When opportunity comes to bring back those who are lost comes with the risk of more loss for you both.  Is it worth taking the risk?

Chapter 8

The news of your engagement to Steve was met with a lot of excitement from the kids and quite a bit from Natasha Romanoff too.  While Steve still had friends around after the half of life turned to dust, most of his close friends had been taken out and the ones that remained he was mostly estranged with.  You didn’t know all the details and you knew he still occasionally saw Rhodey and Bruce, but besides them, it was Natasha that Steve was closest to.  She’d been trying to hold the team together but generally speaking she was alone out at the old Avengers Facility that had been sitting all but vacant since everything had gone down.  The news that Steve was engaged made Natasha light up for the first time in the last two and a half years.

For a few months, you rode that wave of excitement.  You made no firm plans for the wedding, but the initial conversations about it were all full of joy.  You spoke about potential venues and themes - how big it should be - what time of year.  You would talk to the kids about how they might be involved in the wedding, and you talked about how you’d handle the honeymoon given you had children with attachment disorders.

It wasn’t until the third anniversary of the incident that took so many people from you and your newly found family that you crashed from that high.

You sat at the front of the crowd with Ryan, Isabella, and Jacob.  Natasha sat next to Isabella, and beside her Bruce Banner in his new Hulk form.  Steve was on stage with the mayor and James Rhodes, as well as a few other government officials.  Other than that no other Avengers had shown for the unveiling of the monument to lost New Yorkers.  Thor hadn’t been heard from since he returned to new Asgard and no one even knew where Clint Barton was.  Steve had said Tony Stark had been invited, but if that was true, he was a no-show.

Similar monuments were going up in major cities around the country and the world, though the timing of them often depended on how hard it had been to sort through the names to find the official count.

Steve stepped up to the microphone.  “Three years ago our world and many others were changed forever.  A madman with the power to change the makeup of life itself decided that rather than create peace or unlimited resources that would be handed out equally to everyone, rather than eradicating disease and suffering, or to solve the problems words have with pollution, he’d eliminate half the life that existed.  Not just here.  Everywhere.  It was a choice that not only made no difference to any of these issues but created a collective shared trauma in all that was left behind.

“I tried to stop him.  My friends tried to stop him.  Trying to find it in my heart to forgive myself for failing you all has been something I’ve been struggling to do…”

Steve paused and took a deep breath as he looked down at the podium.  “We have all lost people.  Not just one or two people, but hundreds.  Or friends.  Our family.  Mothers.  Fathers.  Children.  Husbands.  Wives.  Close friends.  It was indiscriminate and the fallout has scarred us.  We all share in this trauma and I’m not sure any of us know what to do now.  Expect to try and be kind and share the burden of this tragedy. 

“Today we come together to remember those people we loved and lost and grieve for them together.  Each person’s name is etched on the stones that stand behind me.  A monument to those that we loved that were taken from us for no reason other than a madman clicked his fingers.  I ask us all to take a minute of silence in remembering them all now.”

You lowered your head and thought about Alice.  Tears welled in your eyes as you remembered your little girl and thought about how you would never see her grow up and how much you missed her.

When the minute was up Steve thanked everyone and left the stage.  The mayor talked for a while and when he finished, you took the kids to find the names of their parents.  You had just tracked down Ryan’s parents when Steve found you.

“They’d be proud of you, Ry,” Steve said, putting his hand on the boy's shoulders.  “I know I am.”

“I still miss them,” Ryan said, as he stuck a small flower beside their names with a piece of double-sided tape.

“Of course you do,” you said.  “That’s normal, sweetheart.  Look at all these people here, looking for the names of the people they miss.”

Ryan broke down into tears and turned around and hugged you, burying his face in your neck.  For the entire three years you’d known him he’d never broken like this in front of you.  It shocked you, but even as you held him and rubbed his back and cried your own tears of grief, you felt like this was a good thing.  Another step forward in your son’s healing.

When he pulled apart and wiped his eyes, Steve rubbed your back.  “Have you found Alice yet?” he asked.

“No, we did Callie for Jacob and then Isabella’s parents, and then we came here,” you said.

“Let’s try and find her,” Steve said.

You made your way down the aisles keeping your eye on the last names.  Alice’s name was close to the ground on the side of one of the big stone pillars facing the bay.  You crouched down and traced the A with your index finger.  Jacob came over and wrapped his arms around your neck.  “You and Alice would have been good friends, J.J.,” you said.  “I used to take care of you when your mommy was at work and Alice would play games with you.  She used to make you laugh.  You thought she was amazing.”

“She be with mommy,” Jacob said, patting your shoulder.

“Yeah, I bet they’re looking after each other,” you said.

“Yeah.  Wike you wook after me,” Jacob agreed and kissed your cheek.  “Wove you, mommy.”

“I love you too,” you said and cuddled him.

Isabella wrapped her arms around you too and snuggled into you.  “I love you too, mommy,” she whispered.

Tears pricked your eyes.  “I love you, Bella.”

Steve put his hand on your shoulder and Ryan kneeled and stuck an orchid to the stone next to Alice’s name.

When you were ready to move on, you got up and wordlessly your group moved on, following Steve as he went searching for the names he wanted to find.  As you walked through the pillars, you found Natasha with her hand pressed to one of them.  Steve approached her and put his hand on her shoulder.

“Why won’t he come home?” she said.

Steve shook his head.  “I wish I knew.”

Natasha closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  When she opened her eyes again it was like nothing was wrong.  “Hey kids, do you want to go with me to get some ice cream?”

“Ice cream!”  Jacob shouted as Ryan looked back at you with his brow furrowed.

“Nat,” Steve said gently.  “It’s okay to be…”

“I can’t…” she said, shaking her head.  “Hey, it’s okay.  I’ll just take them over there and you can - well you know…”

“Natasha…”

“I’m okay, Steve,” she said.  “I’m always okay.  Come on, guys.”

Jacob and Isabella ran over to her and took Natasha’s hands while Ryan looked back at you.  “Uh..?” he said.

“It’s okay.  Go with Nat.  We’ll meet you over there,” you said.

He nodded and followed Natasha out of the memorial where some food carts were set up.  “What was that about?” you asked.

Steve tapped a series of names.  “That’s Clint’s family,” he said.  “I think the fact she not only lost them, but he just went rogue -” he shook his head.  “It’s messy.  They were her family too.  You know?  And she wants to be there for Clint but he’s just pushed everyone away.”

You wrapped your arm around his waist and leaned into him.  “It’s a rough day, huh?”

“At least we aren’t all alone for it,” he said and pressed his lips to your temple.

The two of you moved down a little and Steve began scanning the wall.  When he found the name he was looking for he ran his thumb over it and taped an orchid beside it.  “I never thought I’d get married without Bucky there.  Even when I imagined myself marrying someone else, he was always standing beside me.”

You frowned and leaned into his side.  “We don’t have to get married if you don’t want to,” you said.  “You know I was okay with just how we are.  I don’t need the paper to know you’re committed to me.”

“No,” he said.  “Sweetheart, I want this.  I can’t keep delaying my own life.  I used to do it because I thought I had this gift and if I didn’t use it I was as bad as the bad guys.  I can’t just replace that by putting things off because they aren’t how I imagined them.  I love you and I love what we have.  I want to make it official.”

You leaned up and kissed him tenderly.  He hummed softly into your lips and caressed his thumb along your jaw.  “I love you so much, you know?” you said as you pulled back.

“I love you too,” he said.  “I want to say Bucky would love you as well, but most likely he’d have been a little jealous if he knew I was seeing you.”

You laughed and snuggled into him.  “Well, I wouldn’t have been trying to turn your head if he was around,” you teased.

“Is that what you did?” he chuckled.  “Did you use your feminine wiles on me?”

You broke down into giggles.  “Something like that.”

He kissed you again, pulling you up against him.  “I can’t wait to marry you, my love,” he said.  “And I’ll have Ryan as my best man, and I’m so happy about that too.  This is what I want.”

“Good,” you said.  “Shall we go find the kids then?  Maybe we can take Nat out for lunch.”

“That’s a really good idea,” he agreed.  “No one should be alone today.”

// NEXT

[factorialsfandoms]

this... was going to be a flufftober prompt, but I got to a point where I liked the ending before I reached the bit where contest actually happened. Oops. TLDR: Malon, from the town just the otherside of the woods, shows up and takes home the summer crop festival with some lovingly grown sweetcorn, narrowly beating Between’s crystal flowers. And Mini in third, his tiny friends having been helping him grow some clover.

And, now I think, /also/ dropping by the LU Server’s crossover event! And introducing my pet au which... only people in the correct discord servers with me know about oopsie. Well, the crossover is with rune factory, and the prompt is competition. I’ll someday write actual info on them, but Storm is ALTTP/Oracles/LA Link and Bracken is TLoZ/AoL Link and Koei is HW Link and... The others either use their usual names or should be obvious? And them all living in one farming village deep in the lost woods, most plot things have never happened to them. Yet. Not all the Links have gathered, either, this being maybe 2 years before plot would occur. Most notably missing is Wild. I had funny for him, but then Storm decided he wanted to be happy.

This isn’t AU plot. This is just fluff.

It was the morning of the Summer Crop Festival, and the village was in full swing. Linkle had the cucuos flying banners up to the balconies, where Twilight was helping Colin pin them into place. Sky was trying to do the same thing, but his own birds were behaving far less well, instead trying to eat the brightly coloured sugar paper. Mayor Hagon was stood in the centre of the town square, directing people to the small tent where Rusl was checking the produce, and logging everyone’s entries.

Most of those making submissions had got them in early, and were now gathered around chatting. Storm was not entering this year, having won the last with an Ironleaf. Instead he would be helping the mayor and Uli judge the competition, serving as a tie break. Farore had given her blessing to him doing so, a knowing smirk on her face as the Oracle had agreed to delay his trip to Labrynna by a few more days.

He loved his apprenticeship to the Oracle, he really did! But, he was going to miss his friends and life in the Hidden Village; soon he was to travel across the sea, spending six months each studying with the Oracles of Seasons and Ages. Storm was just... going to miss these things. It had been strange enough when Koei had been called away to the war, and now Storm would be leaving too.

He wondered if there would be any new arrivals in his absence; Koei’s departure had been maybe two months after Ravio’s arrival, and three before Sky had been thrust into their lives. Both were curious men, both Storm’s seniors and scarred by the war in their own ways. Hopefully Koei would not be as hurt by it as them; hopefully the war would stop taking people away.

Speaking of Ravio, he was speaking with Rusl, giggling about something to do with his aubergine. Given the bright red ears of Between at his side, it was nothing suitable for polite company.

That was not the commotion, though, oh no - the commotion was past the check in station, where Four was arguing with Bracken.

Arguing, Storm said, like Bracken was replying. The boy had pulled his hood up over his face as he flapped apologetically, almost something to do with the jam now covering Four’s cloak. If he had to put money on it, Storm would say that it was likely the Smith’s grandson who had caused the accident, not Bracken, but whatever it was seemed to be resolving itself.

Well, being resolved by Mini stepping on his elder brother’s foot and threatening to call grandpa on him, to the amused delight of Between, and allowing Doctor Odel to rescue his ward from the situation.

“You could go join them, you know?” Uli, sat with him at the judges table, baby Thela sleeping in her arms. “You’re not needed for a little while yet.”

Storm could, he was sure. He could go help Wake and Spirit with their pumpkins, or go borrow Bracken to set up some extra decorations. Maybe Sky would even like a hand wrangling his cucuos, though Storm was firmly of the opinion that anyone who dealt with the birds regularly was signing their own death warrant. He could even go talk with Between and Ravio, though the two seemed rather engrossed in whatever they were plotting.

So, instead, he shook his head, “I’ll talk to them after; nobody’s ever much fun before the results.”

Uli laughed in agreement, and offered him an apple.

He grinned back, taking it. Before he was even half way done, Bracken had slipped up to the table, waving what could only be nervously.

“Yeah?” Storm asked of the one other competent magic wielder of their generation. The Smiths claimed their ancestral powers as magic, but Storm had yet to see any of them cast an actual spell. Ravio, perhaps, but Farore was very strict about enchantment being a different discipline. And, anyway, he had married into the family.

Bracken reached into his capelet, and bought out a bag of confetti with a nervous smile.

Well, so much for sitting with Uli and looking like the responsible adult he almost was. She waved him away as he grabbed Bracken’s hand, taking him up the clocktower.

Up with a little privacy, Bracken did not immediately get the confetti and magic supplies out. Instead he sat down on the ledge, and gestured for Storm to join him.

“Something wrong?” he asked, frowning a little at the younger witch. “Four didn’t hurt you, did he?”

A quick shake of the head was followed by Bracken’s hood being pulled down, a shaky smile joining steady hands as they signed out ‘/I’ll miss you/’.

It was a sentiment a lot of the village shared, and Storm with them.

“It’s only a year,” Storm promised. “And I’ll write to you! Just focus on your own studies, and you won’t even notice it.”

‘/Of course I’ll notice it/,’ Bracken huffed with vague offence. ‘/You’ll be gone/.’

“And I’ll come back, and I’ll bring better stuff back for us to work with. Oracle Naryu lives in the city - there’ll be all sorts of good stuff I can get there. Maybe even some of that fancy glittery confetti they have in the capital.”

There was a long pause, where Bracken did not look terribly reassured. ‘/Just promise you’ll come back safe?/’

“Of course! If anything I should be worried about all of you - I’m at least going /away/ from the war! /And/ I hear there’s fewer gates in Labrynna and Holodrum combined than just the forest. Didn’t you know? And even if something does go wrong, then I guess... Well, I’ll just refuse to die!”

His impassioned speech at least had Bracken silently giggling into his hands. It was for the best; unlike even Wake, Storm had not been beyond the borders of the forest before. The Oracle kept the inn, and Storm had lived with her as long as he could remember. Going abroad, and alone at that? It was terrifying. Still, he was excited, and going to make the most of it.

“Come on, then, let’s get this confetti shower set up,” he pulled himself up, then offered Bracken a hand. “I think some people from the other villages are coming this year? We should get set up before they arrive.”

Bracken took the hand, using it to pull himself up, before grabbing the supplies.

There was not one but three bags of confetti; it was going to be a very, very good year.

[tinyplanetss]

they definitely did not have world domination levels of plans without lbd. obviously the mayor was out with the skeleton key and could've given it to dbk if he had for some reason still wanted the mystic power source, but a family of three demons that have been around for centuries probably would have recognized that something was wrong? so yes, mk is definitely key to everything kicking off. not that this makes it his FAULT!!!!!!!!! [i yell this so loudly that fictional character mk can hear me] it is not his FAULT he is merely CURSED in his EXISTENCE. but yeah when lbd tells mk "a delivery boy to the end :)" she kinda slayed thats one of my favorite lines from her. but yeah without him i don't think any of this would've been kicked off!!

AND YES. WUKONG. he already tended to "overhelp" humans in jttw but only when it affected the journey. he delighted more in the fame of having a reputation (which he very much DID have. a few years in and everyone knows his name, spirits and gods are telling humans to expect him to come save them on his way west) but with the franchise stuff in lmk, i would imagine he's burnt out on all the fame and being known. at the end of the spider queen special, he actively runs away from the gang being hype fans of him, and of course when he's like THE FIREWORKS!! oh and people getting hurt i guess^_^✌️ like. he has grown so fascinatingly apathetic in the lmk timeline that i dont think he wouldve stopped any of this or maybe even known that the staff was pulled if he wasnt tracking mk? and same for macaque, mk really did bring them together with their co-mentoring........... really makes me want to rewatch the show with the mindset of Okay what would've happened here without mk. but that's really difficult because HE IS AT THE CENTER OF ALL OF THESE STORIES!! he truly is!!!!

i don't know if you've seen the most recent doctor who holiday special but they did a timeline thing where someone's adopted child was erased from the timeline and the way their apartment was darkened (no decorations, art, fairy lights), their fridge was plain and empty (just old coupons, rather than plastered edge to edge with family photos), and they just hated doing their day to day life tasks. i would have to imagine pigsy's life would've changed the most, followed by mei. pigsy is angry a lot, yes, but he loves mk dearly and mk helps in the restaurant! companionship and light into his life!! tang tells mk stories about the monkey king, so he certainly draws a connection between them and pulls it tighter than i think it would've been, even if they were already close (they were obviously close enough for the naming scene in s5, but who knows if pigsy had any other friends to talk to about it.) sandy i think you're right, he would've just kinda been. alone. and mei would've been still stifled by living under her parents and trying to be proper, with no outlet for who she truly is!! (sidenote but we still know nothing about how mei and mk met or how long they've known each other and i am DESPERATE. please)

we definitely did not intend to binge, but we were so scared-excited about it and ended up watching it in two sittings which made it harder to soak in for sure. same as you, i've enjoyed it a LOT more after breaking it apart and rewatching specific scenes and episodes.

and YES sandy is literally just so full of love ;~; his whole brain is just overwriting anger and frustration with love. as subodhi mentions, maybe he's too nice, but the way he got pissed at the turtle showed that maybe he's only too nice when it comes to himself. for his friends he would do quite literally anything, now that he has them. and yes yes yes mk needed those hugs and contact so so bad. i'm sure sandy of all people was perfect to have as the first person to hug/touch him IN his monkey form, which i didn't realize was a huge deal until just now. because he's so terrified of hurting them like this (when he flew off in s4 paralleling mei flying off in s3) but sandy goes in without hesitation AND sandy is strong and can handle most things so i'd imagine that's comforting on the "destructive" end of things. man i love this show rrraaaaaaa explodes into a million lego bricks

back on my s5 ponderings. losing the special means they lost nearly a THIRD of their normal season length. since every season has a special (whether it's before or after), they have 10 11min eps + another 4 11min eps (the 44min special) and you can definitely feel it. that definitely explains why it felt 1. rushed and 2. less immersive with the small moments. oh AND less balanced between angst and silly. because they had the time for it in previous finales!!!! they had time for cool camera angles and flowing hair and ominous lighting!!

[suicidalslasher]

forever & always. ➤ tom. h.

Happy Valentine’s Day~!!! I couldn’t contain myself and or stop myself from writing about my favorite Valentine’s day killer. So, here you go :)

WARNING: descriptions of gore and blood. in this one-shot, the reader’s pronouns are she&her.  i might make a part two of this, depending on how well it does. maybe not. i like how it ends, regardless. either way. enjoy.

The news spread like wildfire. No matter which way you went, there was always a flame, reaching out towards those to burn. Try as you may, you can't get away. The words that littered the air was nothing more than burnt ashes fluttering around, burning each object as it flies above said thing or said person. In this case, the people of a small town called Valentine Bluffs were the ones burning from the inside and out. They felt trapped within the smoke, unable to seek out which way to escape the dangers that had followed.   The terror; the trauma; the panic and anxiety attacks; All of it - they thought it was long gone.... they were finally going back to being normal, how things used to be. 

They were going back to a life that wasn't full of fear, having to look behind your shoulder constantly and being careful of who you trust. It was all going to be okay, happy once more. They'd finally be able to celebrate their favorite day once again.  But... as you may have guessed, it's not quite  easy to put out a rapid wildfire. All it takes is a small fire to expand out into something bigger, bolder, and scarier. You can't escape the flames. No matter how big or small. You cannot ignore the overwhelming burning sensation that  glazes across your skin as the fire around you grows larger, making you feel smaller and smaller by the second.  The words, however, the statement that was fluttering around like specks of ash,  wasn't at all a sentence (nor an actual fire)  but a name - Harry Warden.  1997. Valentine's day. Everybody, in & out of town, knows what happened.  For a brief period of time there, nobody celebrated Valentine's day, having thought it out to be cursed.  Yet, as time went on, there was no sign of Harry Warden. No copy cat killer version of him, neither. So, the people went back to celebrating. Writing hand written love letters,  buying cheaply made cards at the local supermarket, buying and or receiving overly priced chocolates. Anything, everything, people did it with  love in their hearts and a smile on their face.  Today was Valentine's Day, once more. Expect it wasn't the way it had been for the past 9 years. It was exactly like the day in 1997. History was repeating itself.  Instead of love, presents, and reserved dinner dates being celebrated and shared, the town of Valentine Bluffs  got decomposed, rotting corpses,  instead. Blood scattered outside and inside of buildings. 

  It was worse than before, more bodies were showing up without their hearts and the missing body piece would be found neatly placed in between a plastic heart shaped box. All of which would be sent to the police station as a joke, as  a threat.  Even a card would be taped on top or under the container, though the sentences were far from cheerful and loveable.  A few of them had been thrown aside, only having been read once. Those who opened it and read it aloud usually found themselves cringing in dismay  as they read the paragraph out loud all while  shifting around in their seat, uncomfortably.  

Once they read it, they shook their heads as tears welled up in their eyes before they threw it into the trash bin or ripped it into hundreds of tiny pieces, not daring to open another letter that's brought in. Evidence or not, the workers couldn't keep their breakfast or lunch down when they'd read the cards.  The recent two cards had said;  From the heart comes a warning, filled with bloody good cheer, remember what happened as the 14th draws near!  And the last victim, a girl named Maryanne Anderson, had gotten a card right before she was found dead, her body laying in a ditch to rot.  Her card had read; Roses are red, violets are blue, one is dead, and so are you.  Nobody knew who the new killer was, or if it even was a new killer, copying Harry's schemes and following in his footsteps.  It could have very well been  the same man all those years ago. That's what they were saying.   (Y/N) (L/N) was in her car, driving back home from work when her favorite song had been replaced with an alarm, cutting off her favorite part. "Oh, c'mon!" She groaned, hands hitting the steering wheel in annoyance  before she goes to turn up the volume anyways, wondering what's so important that the town and the police station had to turn off her favorite song. 

She knew about the murders, she knew there was a serial killer around, she already knew this already. And yes, she was petrified, as most people were. When the first body showed up, the mayor of town announced there'd be a curfew until they found out who is doing all of this. Whether it was one person or more, they'd find a way to capture the killer. No matter what. There was not going to be another murder.

 (Of course, there was more.) 

 (The original curfew was getting home at 9:30. Now, it had gone down and you'd have to be indoors, at your house, by 6:30 PM.)  Students in school would get out earlier, as well as the adults in town. The only ones who didn't get to go home so early in the day were those who were trying to protect the people of Valentine Bluffs.  "We are sorry to interrupt that song there," came the  radio host's deep and groggy voice. "However, this is more important than your favorite throwback jams. I've gotten an officer here with me, he had just shown up not even a second ago to tell us more news on the situation we are currently in. So, please, listen carefully."  "Yeah, whatever. I already know what's going on. Tell me something I don't know." (Y/N)  turns off the radio as she pulls up in her driveway, feeling a sense of comfort clouding over her, another day, she's okay; safe and sound, unlike a few of her old high school friends that were gutted like fish and butchered like pigs. 

She shivers at both the bitter and harsh wind brushing against her  as she steps out of her vehicle and the obvious visual of whatever masked man (or men) that's around, killing innocent people for whatever given reason.  Hurrying along the steps to her porch, she digs her keys out of her jacket pocket, finding them within seconds before she's pushing them into the door as quickly as she could. She didn't show it, tried not to show it, but she was as anxious and paranoid as everyone else was. 

(Y/N) was  trying to hold back her fear but the moment she gets home, locking all the doors and windows, the uneasy feelings creep up on her and every negative emotion takes charge.     With a sigh, she falls down onto the couch with a plop, reaching for the remote, she turns on the TV, attempting to try and get her mind off of things.  Of course, every station wasn't what she wanted to watch, the news replacing every channel.  She skipped and skipped but it all remained the exact same. With a groan, she decides to listen to what they were saying, even though she really didn't want to hear it as it'd only make her anxiety worse.  "I am Jonathan Godfrey. We're sorry to interrupt your daily scheduled programs, however, a man you may know as Tom Hanniger has escaped from his stay from a mental hospital."  (Y/N)'s eyes nearly budge out of her head at the mention of the man's name,  the remote she had in the palm of her hand goes flying, falling down onto the ground by her feet. Tom? Mental hospital? It didn't make any sense! Everyone... including her, thought he was dead! She, with shaky fingers, grabs the remote to turn the volume up.   Jonathan's own eyes were wide as he read the teleprompter, his voice now grew shaky as he spoke. Fear was written across both his and his co-worker’s face. "Unfortunately, we don't have any more information or news as to where he's escaped off to. Or where he may be as of the moment. All the reports, every last piece of information we have been received  has said he's been missing since two days ago.  He can be anywhere.  More importantly, he can be here, hiding out." His voice trembled as he spoke, it was also very faint - almost ghostly. Quiet as a mouse. His skin was pale, making it appear as if he was a ghost rather than a living person that sat in the chair there.  

 Jonathan couldn't continue, this much was obvious, therefore his co-host, Abigail Miller, continued where he had left off.    "This being said, please, lock the doors and windows of your home. If you have a weapon to guard your own life and protect your ground, get it out now. Please, protect yourself the very best you can. And do not, I repeat, do not answer the door. Do not leave your home whatsoever. Whatever is outside of your house is surely not more important than your life.  

“Whether it is Tom that has been doing this or not, we're not exactly sure. All we tell you is to be careful and remain indoors until we can find Tom and or find the Valentine's killer. This has been Jonathan Godfrey and Abigail Miller, with the news. Stay safe and God bless." The program that was previously playing showed up finally, the neon colors swirling together to form the title of the show, along with a fairly way too cheerful theme song playing faintly in the distance as the introduction played out. (Y/N) had never heard of it before, but from a quick glance, it appeared to be a sitcom from the late 70's.  The only source of light was coming from the television screen, casting colorful shadows across (Y/N)'s face. She had felt too tired to have turned on the lights upon entering her house. Work was short, the hours having grown thinner because of the curfew, however, it was still tiring all the same.  She instantly regretted not doing so now, however. 

She sat in the dark, her heart thumping loudly against her chest as she pulled a near by blanket around her shoulders as if the thick fabric would comfort her and protect her. The room had gotten colder ever since the report was announced. Goosebumps ran up and down (Y/N)'s body, the baby hairs on her neck stood on end as a shiver slid up and down her spine. Despite the blanket being around her body, she felt nothing but cold, numb. Suddenly, the TV went out with a soft 'ping'.    (Y/N) gasped and her heart stopped beating all together.  She felt like she couldn't breathe, she couldn't tell if she was going crazy either when she heard what sounded like  footsteps coming down from the hallway. She sat, frozen, on her couch, unable to move, unable to breathe.  Then.... a knock. Followed by another and another. It was right outside, coming from not the front entrance but the back yard. "(Y/N)? (Y/N), please..." came the voice.  ​​​​​​​And (Y/N) recognized that voice anywhere.  She knows she shouldn't.... everybody said not to but... she couldn't help herself.  Getting up as quickly as she could, she runs down the hallway, the sounds of her feet echoing against the thin walls as she reaches the door, tugging it open.   There, on the other half of the door, stood nobody other than Tom Hanniger himself.   He looked up, surprised she had answered the door.  Giving her a weak, lopsided smile,  Tom's pulling her into a tight hug, his head falling down in the crook between her shoulder and neck, tears flooding his eyes as he soaks her shirt, silently weeping. "(Y/N).... fuck, I've missed you so much, missed you so bad." Tom confesses with a sniffle.  "Tom... I- what're you doing here? They're looking for you, you know this, right? Everybody's looking for you. And.... and I- fuck, Tom! I thought you were dead. Everybody in town thought you died the day your father did." (Y/N) didn't hesitate to hide her true feelings. She was a mixture of emotions. Angry, happy, sad, scared - she was feeling every single emotion there possibly was. "I know... I know. I-I have a lot to explain and a lot to tell you but please, right now, can we just- can we just play pretend?" He asked, moving away from her shoulder as he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his sweater, his eyes remained watery and his skin was flushed as he looked up at (Y/N).  (Y/N) guessed it was a mixture of three things - running away from the mental hospital to where her house was to  the bitter and harsh February air. Plus, the crying he had just done, too. His face was red and blotchy from all three. Despite it being so cold, sweat trickled his face, a few drips of it falling along side his cheeks. "Play pretend?" (Y/N) echoed, tilting her head to the side, unsure of what he meant.  "Let's play pretend." He repeated, licking his lips. "Let's play pretend and imagine none of this horrid, crazed shit is going on right now. Let's pretend it's only me and you. It's Valentine's day, isn't it? Let's celebrate. After all, it was one of our favorite days to spend together."  Heat rose to (Y/N)'s cheeks and she bit on her bottom lip, rocking back and forth on the bottom of her feet.  "Tom.... I-I'm...You want-" She couldn't from sentences, her thoughts were mushing together and it was all too much for her to handle. She felt like she was going to pass out. "I want you, (Y/N). I want you as bad as I did then and I want you just as badly right  now. There has never been a day where I wasn't thinking about you. You were the love of my life. I still love you, maybe even more, now. Let's celebrate, please. We can talk about everything tomorrow morning. I promise I'll tell you everything.  Right now, let's play pretend, let's act like it's just us again, like when we were teens.... I've missed you. And.... and I know you've missed me too or else you wouldn't have opened the door." And, yeah, okay, he was right.  "Tom..."  "(Y/N)." He stepped closer to her, closer than he had done before, as he rests his hand against her cheek, fingers brushing against her skin as he looked into her (E/C) eyes.  "I love you. I never stopped. And I know you love me, too.... so, please, baby girl.... can I just show you how much I love you?" (Y/N) shouldn't have answered the door. She should have called the cops when she heard his voice. Everything was too much of a  coincidence. 

Her power was working perfectly fine until Tom had shown up. 

Now that she was thinking about it.... 

There was also no victims until she had heard the news Tom had left the asylum. Three days ago.... 

Three days ago, there was the first victim; Maryanne.  If she thought too much about it, got too deep into the rabbit hole, she would have assumed Tom Hanniger was the Valentine's killer - The Miner.  Yet... looking at Tom, she knew he wasn't - couldn't - be the killer. If he was, he would've killed her too, right? Tom Hanniger's been through too much, and just like she was there before, she was going to be there for him now. Through Hell and back.  

She would stay by his side, no matter what. She still kept the old promise ring he had given her in high school, along with the note in which he confessed his feelings. In which, he told her - one day - he'd marry her. She was the perfect girl for him, as he was the perfect man for her.  A promise is a promise. When she said 'forever and always', she meant that. (Y/N) knew Tom meant it, too.  "I love you too."   Tom's quick to place his lips on (Y/N)'s and (Y/N) is quick to kiss him back just as hungry, just as fierce. She tangles  her fingers through her hair and pulls on it, earning a groan from Tom. Satisfied with the result, she tugs him into her house by the sleeve of his shirt, slamming the door shut with her foot. 

"I've missed you, baby." He says, not daring to pull away from the kiss.

"Show me how much you've missed me then, baby." She mumbles against his lips. "Oh, I'm going to."  "Let's go celebrate Valentine's day the right way then. Come on, let's go upstairs."   Tom grins and  (Y/N) smiles back before she's pulling him up the stairs and into her bedroom. 

Forever and Always. It was them until the end. Nobody would ever separate the two of them, again.... not even Harry Warden was going to destroy Tom’s happiness... not this time.

[nordleuchten]

heyy, so,how was lafayette's position in the french court?? before and after the amrev and frev?? Thankss

Hello Anon,

great question! La Fayette’s relationship and standing with the French court is really interesting.

La Fayette was the member of an old and noble family, he married into one of the most influential families in all of France and made a name for himself - nevertheless, his relationship with the court was always a bit complicated.

He was introduced at court at the age of eleven. His mother had brought young La Fayette with her to Paris. She came from the powerful La Rivière family and had apparently actively tried to rise within the court hierarchy, so that her son could profit from her position. While in Paris, La Fayette attended the prestigious Collège du Plessis and learned riding with thee future kings, Louis XVI, Louis XVIII and Charles X - not a bad track record. He also joined the second company of the Kings Black Musketeers on April 9, 1771, a company that his grandfather had commanded until 1766. At the age of sixteen, he married into the de Noailles family and thus greatly improved his standing at court. As part of the marriage contract, he also gained a lieutenancy in the de Noailles Dragoons (April 7, 1773) to which he had been transferred. He was promoted to Captain on May 19, 1775. With all of that, La Fayette could have had a bright future at court - the only problem was; he had no interested in bettering his position at court. La Fayette disliked the courtly life. He wrote in his Memoirs:

That ill effect of disguised vanity, and of an inclination to be observant, was not moderated by the awkwardness of my manners, which, without being improper on great occasions, never succumbed to the graces of the court or to the charms of a supper in the capital. (…)Republican anecdotes delighted me, and when my wife's family obtained a place for me at court, I did not hesitate to be disagreeable to preserve my independence.

We see that La Fayette did not fit in and he furthermore had no desire to really fit in. The last sentence in the excerpt plays at an incident where La Fayette purposely insulted the future Louis XVIII two times in order to be dismissed from a position in his household. I wrote here about this event.

La Fayette’s burned for the military and the military was exactly the place where we made a name for himself - his rise in the American Revolution was of course noted by the court. With the death of Louis XV on May 10, 1774, his young grandson Louis XVI had ascended the throne. The court had become younger and many of La Fayette’s friends enjoyed courtly life or had even been given positions within the court. La Fayette did generally fit in better with the new court of Louis XVI than he had with the court of Louis XV. He wrote his wife Adrienne on June 19, 1777

Give my fond regards to your lady friends and to my friends (I would express them also to my lady friends, with the permission of the Comtesse Auguste and of Mme de Fronsac). By my friends you will understand that I mean that dear company the former Court Club, which through the passage of time has become the Society of the Wooden Sword; we other republicans feel it is much better as the latter.

The Court Club was the term this new and young set of courtiers gave themselves. They centred mainly around Marie Antoinette and the Comte d'Artois. They were generally more relaxed, dressed more casually and even toyed with liberal and republican ideas. The name Society of the Wooden Sword came from the café the Wooden Sword, where the group would later meet.

Still, a considerable part of La Fayette’s social life took part outside the court - take his famous American dinners at Mondays for example. His in-laws, the de Noailles, had apartments in Versailles that La Fayette used when he needed a place to stay in Versailles but I am not aware that he ever established any living quarters of his own in Versailles.

With the onset of the French Revolution and his eager participation in reforms, his standing at the court soured. Things were still rather well at the begin and many of La Fayette’s friends and other nobles joined in. But the situation, as we all know, became more and more heated with time. It became increasingly harder to follow a middle ground and you were either a Royalist or a Revolutionary. After the Woman’s March to Versailles in 1789, when La Fayette entered the palace he had to passed a hall with courtiers. One of them shouted, “There goes Cromwell.” La Fayette was visible shaken by this statement but replied calmly “Cromwell, Cromwell would not have entered here alone!”

At this point in the French Revolution, a great deal of the court saw La Fayette as a French Cromwell. There were all sort of rumours, that La Fayette wanted to make himself King for example and Marie Antoinette is quoted with having said:

Lafayette is here to defend us, but who is to defend us against Lafayette

There is also a story (which I have not looked into that much yet) that when La Fayette desired to become the Mayor of Paris, it was a group of courtiers centred around the Queen who actively sought to undermine his efforts.

After the French Revolution and after being released from his prison cell in Olmütz, La Fayette retired from public life for some time. He wanted to spend time with his family, had a lot of personal affairs to sort out and was generally not a fan of Napoléon Bonaparte. The two men had a relationship full of ups and downs … but far more downs than ups. At the begin of his reign, Napoléon tried to win La Fayette over and get him to openly support his new government and when that did not worked out, their relationship basically deteriorated. Under Napoleon, La Fayette had no real position at the court. He sometimes attended some balls or ceremonies, he later re-entered public life as a politician but that was about it. After Napoléon’s final defeat at Waterloo and his subsequent abdication and exile, the Bourbons were restored to the French throne. The Comte de Provence (the man La Fayette had insulted in his youth) became Louis XVIII and he and La Fayette got along rather well. Louis XVIII had no grudges against La Fayette and even invited him to court - the problem was that with the Bourbons a lot of other nobles returned to court as well. Many of them still blamed La Fayette for the events of the French Revolution and the atmosphere was generally quite hostile. La Fayette decided that the whole undertaking was not worth the trouble and he largely abstained from court.

After the death of Louis XVIII on September 16, 1824, his younger brother, the Comte d'Artois, took over as Charles X. La Fayette and Charles X did not get along - at all. So much so, that La Fayette played an active role in the July Revolution of 1830 that lead to Charles X abdication and exile.

Instead of Charles X, Louis Phillipe I became King. Now, although La Fayette played an important part on getting Louis Phillipe I on the throne, he soon became disillusioned … so far so that he more or less tried to participate in a plot to overthrow the new government. Suffice to say that he was not particularly welcomed at court.

We see that La Fayette’s position at court was influenced by his dislike for courtly life, his inability to fit in and by the way other courtiers saw him. Courtly life in general changed after the French Revolution but La Fayette, despite his contempt for courtly life, remained somewhat of a relic. His friend and physician Jules Cloquet wrote in his Memoirs about La Fayette:

He had the tone of a man of high rank belonging to the old court, as well as the utmost urbanity for every person who addressed him.

I hope I could answer your question and hope that you have/had a brilliant day!