#right up there next to “being born with a twin” (/silly)

[if-loki-was-a-fox]

ngl, prpduo were probably the best thing that ever happened to me

[henneseyhoe]

Just One More. | 2

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: short, no smut! (surprisingly), just fluffy shit for father’s day <44 😘

SUMMARY: Congratulations! You had the twins! time to deal with lewis and his new dad antics (again), but first, here’s two cute moments.

|1|2|3|4|

✮✮✮✮

“You happy now?”

You stare at your husband through tired and teary eyes, watching him cradle your daughter in his arms. You had just gone through twenty hours of labor, spending half of those hours at home and in pain and the other half in the hospital. When you got there you could barely walk, every contraction you felt striking your belly and back which made your knees weak. You swore hours earlier it was just braxton hicks, but your twins soon proved you wrong. Very, very wrong.

When you heard both their cries erupt in the room, you smiled in victory as you were finally done with the most crucial part.

“You did so good, love”

Lewis praised you with stray tears he could no longer hold in trailing down his cheeks, a sweet kiss being placed on your forehead before he did the same to the twins. The boy who was born first, with no surprise, looked exactly like Lewis. He was a spitting imagine of your other set of twins when they were babies, but that daughter of yours? All you. Exactly three minutes apart, when she arrived the nurses were starting to wonder if Lewis was in the room at all when she was conceived.

You looked at the two newborns, just as proud of your work as god himself was.

“You know, I was gonna lose it if she was a boy” You spoke while gently brushing your fingers through your son’s soft hair. Lewis chuckles and lays besides you in the hospital bed, his eyes switching attention from baby to baby, but never letting go of his babygirl. You smile and let him have his moment. You knew the hogging was mostly because of him being in shock that he actually got his girl, He’d be all over your son also come morning time.

“I’m in awe how much she looks like you. Usually they don’t look like anyone right away but wow…she’s all you, Y/N” Lewis expresses, a finger caressing her blushed cheek. You just nod in agreement, laughing at how her hair stuck up in the front like spikes while everything else laid down. Lewis was too busy gushing over both of them to point out how silly either of them looked.

✮✮✮✮

When you two took the babies home, it was hard to keep the twins away from them. Your boys were there peeking over your shoulder at every feeding, every burping, every changing, even every bath. They had started to ask when they’d be big enough to play with, a toy in both of their hands as they waited for your answer. Before you could speak, Lewis was already speaking, serving them with the facts while simultaneously burping the baby in his arms.

“They won’t be able to play with you two for a while. They’re too small right now and they don’t do much but sleep and eat”

Your boys pouted, one rolling his eyes back dramatically. “Well, that’s boring! They’re boring!” Silas, the older one huffed, sitting on the coffee table in front of you. Both you and Lewis cackled, but the boys found nothing funny. “Yes, babies are boring for the first few months”

“Why’d you go and get two more then?” Silas’s face scrunched as he asked and you tried helplessly not to laugh so loud at the poor baby that the infant in your arms would jump out of her sleep.

“Yeah, Lewis…Why did we ‘get’ two more?” Egging it on, you look back at your husband for another answer, your face riddled with amusement as he completely curves the question. “Any questions other than that? Saint?”

“So they can’t throw a ball? or catch it?” Saint inquired as he went back to the previous topic, sitting next to his brother. You shake your head ‘no’ and they both sigh.

“And they can’t talk either?” Silas asks, earning another laugh from you and Lewis. You two thought the constant questions would stop at three, but your boys were a curious pair. You’d only hope the next set were a bit more tame but with how the universe humbled you the last time...

“If you hear them talking before they hit nine months then please inform daddy so he can call Guinness world records”

✮✮✮✮

💌: again, superior trope, dad!lewis for the win, muah!💋

[sunny-mercya]

Goth Moth

Shinichiro Sano x Male Reader

Fandom -> Tokyo Revengers

Requested by -> Anon

Masterlist

Your love for fashion—and your own style, a more philosophical approach to the much more darker beauty of life and death and all whats lay in the shadows beneath—had been stemmed from your older twin brother, by a hour as you had been a late baby—Wakasa.

It had already begun in the early teen years, when Wakasa—much to mothers disdain as she always nags in anger, that boys should be boys and if her own boys wants to be more feminine than she would have prayed for daughters to be born—had taken a interest in anything fashion related and you followed quick afterwards with the same quick starting passion.

In contrast to Wakasa, who likes to wear much more colourful clothes with mostly floral designs on it—his favourite being roses—you wore much darker themed clothes, more in the Gothic department.

Your gothic style—especially dark blue, almost pitch black, Blouses with ruffled cuffed and those few minimal touches of silver and white (and the occasional lone (f.flower), in homage to Wakasa as he had gifted you these when you were in the hospital) with tight skin hugging trousers—your trademarking outfit—is how you had met Shinichiro in the first place.

And it was your gothic style as well, which had earned you the silly nickname „Goth Moth“ —thanks to both, Shinichiro and Wakasa—within the gangs and groups, although your only active role in said gangs and groups were that of a secretary.

~~~

It's a Saturday night and the restaurant—Wakasa had the bright idea to take you and Shinichiro, his one and only future brother-in-law, out for some dinner—was filled close to the maximum capacity of being overfilled with costumers.

The hours passed and all well went—Shinichiro having the most talk with Wakasa as you, despite your minijob, didn't really care for gang affiliation related topics—till some guys, one or two tables away from you, decided to spurt some drunken nonsense.

Shinichiro wouldn't be bother by it, having learnt to ignore such and choosing battles wisely, if it weren't for the fact that these drunken men were spurting some sexual and sexism words towards you.

You weren't bother by such either—having come across such bigotry and ignorance during your school years, you're used by it as your appearance in contrast to Wakasa weren't by the norm of society (not that you cared about such misconceptions anyway)—but it does bother Shinichiro the more he listen, because they have no damn right to utter such judgemental bullshit.

»Shin, leave them be. They're just drunk.« Wakasa tried to defuse, seeing how his friend got angered within the passing minutes—jaw clenched already.

»Fuck it. Let's fuck them up all bloody.« Wakasa had changed his mind in a instant, when one of those bastard did not only catcalled you—which was, doesn't matter what gender even, never okay to do so—but also shouted words to you, which shouldn't be repeated.

You sighed, shaking your head in disbelief—boys, you think, dumbasses you muttered—smudging some of your eyeliner, eyes gotten a bit dry from the cold air conditioner air.

~~~

Sitting in the park, next to Shinichiro—head leaned against his shoulder—with take away food and watching the sunrise, had something romantically to it.

Shinichiro and Wakasa—claiming to defend your honour and you just looked at your two dumbasses in confusion, because it wasn't like as if you weren't able to defend your supposed "honour" (both of them watched Mulan a bit too intense and much) yourself—did make their threat come true and with good violence dragged the men outside and beat them up.

After, it had been spontaneously decided to take a stroll through the city and the park—which leads to the now and here.

You wouldn't trade with what you have with Shinichiro for anything in the world.

»What's that for?« Shinichiro asked, a bit taken by surprise, when you gave him a kiss on the cheek.

»For nothing and everything,« you said, smiling.

[writing-in-the-impala]

Secret Smokes

Pairing: Teacher! Remus Lupin x Reader

Series Summary: When the reader bumps into the new DADA professor on the bridge in Hogwarts she begins to build a friendship with him all thanks to their shared feeling of not belonging and love for muggle cigarettes. Their friendship blooms while they both fight internal battles deciding what is wrong and what is right leading to a lot of fluff, angst, flirting and a rollercoaster of emotions.

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, teacher-student relationship (but like it’s all legal chill), SLOWburn we’re in for a long ride

Word Count: Just over 1k

A/N:

This story takes place in a AU where Harry's parents are still alive so Remus Lupin still has all his friends and there is no war however that doesn't make him any less angsty. Everything else is pretty much the same as the canon universe! Enjoy!

MASTERLIST  | SERIES MASTER LIST | Part 1, Next Chapter

The wizarding world and the muggle world have always felt like two completely different worlds, maybe that's why Witches and Wizards who are muggle-born become outcasts. It's hard adjusting to a school but adjusting to a whole world at 11 is even harder. Even in your last year of Hogwarts you still didn't feel like you belonged, each summer going back to the muggle life that you have always known, working a summer job at a coffee shop and hanging out with muggles rather than wizards. You had friends in Hogwarts of course, some closer than others and even though it helped you feel more at home you knew that after Hogwarts you'd end up working a muggle job.

Maybe that's why entering your last year at Hogwarts didn't seem as intimidating because at the end of the day it didn't really matter what results you got in your N.E.W.T.S. Still in its own way you knew you'll miss the castle and the life you've lived in it. So your final train ride to Hogwarts felt a bit bittersweet. One thing didn't change, once again a new Defence against the dark arts teacher got introduced, this time one called Remus Lupin. He looked a lot kinder and nicer than the last one.

Your first week went by extremely quickly, quidditch practice hadn't started yet so you had more time to just hang out with your friends. All your lessons were easy so far as everyone was settling to being back. The new profesor was quickly becoming everyone's favourite due to his friendly nature, he seemed to befriend every student something no other profesor really did. You didn't really get to interact with him too much one-to-one during lessons as whenever he had free time the girls with a crush on him would jump onto the opportunity. You didn't really care about DADA as you wouldn't need it in the muggle world but you did understand why everyone was developing a crush, you had your own brewing for him.

It didn't take long for you to get home sick, homesick for the muggle world. Nothing really felt right to you, not even the food it just never tasted as good as what your mother would make, you missed your parents terribly it was a lot harder sending them owls than sending owls to wizard families, they didn't really grasp the concept. The twins could see that you were getting down again, they knew this happened every year after summer, and they've always tried to help lift your spirit. "Y/N we were thinking it was a good time to plan the first prank of the year what do you say?" Fred said. "Y/N is in her last year, she can't be participating in your silly games." Percy answered for you. "Who invited him?" George snapped back.

"Percy might be right I can't get in as much trouble as I did last year I don't want to get suspended, I'm on thin ice with old Minnie after the last prank we pulled before summer." You admitted, maybe you didn't care about your exam results but you didn't want to get suspended. The debate continued and you ended up agreeing to planning a prank that you may or may not help with. After dinner you decided to take a quick detour to the covered bridge, at the end of your fifth year you discovered it was empty in the evenings as it didn't lead to anywhere people would go at that time of night, it instantly became somewhere you would go for peace, and once you discovered smoking, it also got added to the list of secret smoking spots.

When you approached the middle of the bridge you saw a figure standing smoking a cigarette, you felt a bit gutted someone was using your spot but also excited at the idea of someone being so alike you. You approached them and they quickly put out the cigarette. "Don't worry man, I'm not a teacher I won't snitch." You claimed as you walked up to them before you could make out who it was.

"I know but I am." The figure replied, you were now close enough to make out that it was Professor Lupin. He was no longer leaning over the edge but standing straight with his hands in his pockets.

"I won't snitch if you won't?" You said pulling out your own packet of cigarettes. And his face turned to a gentle smile.

"I really shouldn't-" He protested. "Oh come on, you're new. This is normal." You preached. "Yeah Minerva and I do this all the time but don't tell her I told you." This got a laugh out of him.

"I may have believed you up until that point Y/N. But that's where you've lost me." He remembered your name and for some reason it made your heart skip for a second, he had so many students that he's met in one week and he still managed to memorise yours.

"Come on I'll give you a smoke if you don't tell anyone?" You reached out the pack to him "Camels?" He questioned while taking one. "You know them?" You took one out the packed for yourself before putting it away. "They're muggle smokes." He stated nonchalant, there wasn't any hate in those words which was rare around these halls. "I like them." You pulled out a lighter to light your cigarette while he snapped his fingers and it was instantly lit. "How did you do that? You instantly snapped back . "Do what?" He smiled while holding the cigarette in his mouth, he was attractive in the moon light. "Light it with a snap." You replicated his previous action. "It's a simple arson spell, just a small flame. I used wand less magic." He explained "If it's wand less why did you snap your fingers? Surely you could've just done it." You pressed. "Yes. You've got me there." He admitted. "So you were just trying to impress me?" Slipped out before you realised how those words could sound flirty, you barely knew the man. Truthfully if he wasn't your profesor and this was an interaction with a student you would be developing a stupid crush on them.

"You could say that." He said, with half a smile on his lips. "I'm the new profesor who you've just caught spending the evening by himself smoking, I don't want you to tell everyone I'm boring now I seem impressive."

"Or insecure." You shot back and he bit his lip and shook his head in disbelief at your words. He decided not to reply, instead went back to leaning over the bridge looking out into the darkness and smoking his cigarette and silence fell upon you both.

"I like the camel ones, just because the camel is cute." You broke the silence after a while, you felt bad for calling him insecure and wanted to kill the awkwardness. He laughed at your comment. "You know smokings bad for you? Even if the camel is cute." He said flicking the butt of his cigarette into the darkness. "I know." You quietly replied.

He checked his watch before standing up straight"Curfew has already started so don't stay out here too long as Snape is the one on duty today." He began to walk away. "Professor-" He turned around at your words. "This didn't happen right?" You questioned nervously. "What are camels?" He replied with a wink. "Have a good evening Y/N."

"You too Professor."

NEXT CHAPTER

[archangeldyke-all]

A silly little hc for the babies; both of the twins like being held in a weird way but it has to be the opposite direction the other is in, like how people sleep in different positions on a couch 😭 it’s either diagonal or put me down woman 😤

hehehhehehe this is is so cuteee

men and minors dni

your babies spent nine months inside sevika squished against each other, so none of you are surprised that when they're finally born they're both huge cuddle bugs.

they love cuddling you and sevika, they adore cuddling their big sister, but most of all-- they cuddle each other.

you've given up on trying to make them sleep in separate cribs-- they just cry until you put them next to one another. during nap time, you can find your twins asleep, holding hands, drooling on a teddy bear between them. and even when they're awake, your babies are always touching one another.

but they always cuddle feet to face-- curled up around each other like they were in the womb. it's resulted in some accidental kicks to the chin-- but your babies refuse to change it.

even when you're holding them. if you've got stinkybutt upright in your left arm, shithead'll wail until you turn her upside down in your right.

it's ridiculous. you've got about a thousand pictures of sevika, little fucker, and all your family and friends juggling your twins, one upright, the other upside down in their arms.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re

@raphaellearp @iamastar @sevikitty @claude999

[summercreolefanfictioner]

the scent wafts in, her name making him beg on his knees chap 1.2

pairing: dabi / todoroki touya x fem!oc / reader (MODERN AU)

summary: He mentions her name after 6 months in therapy, absentmindedly narrating vivid memories of her. She was the only good thing during his darkest times.

(In which Touya returns home after rebelling against his family for 7 years. And no, it wasn't about forgiveness. He wanted to fix himself because of a certain someone.)

themes: nsfw, domestic abuse, violence, alcoholism, cigarette smoking, toxic relationships, mental health, co-dependency and other related themes (YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED)

notes: for this one, pls keep in mind that touya didn't have much scars on his face; mostly are on his body to accomodate the plot; charas might be ooc since this is modern au

It was after 4 days that he finally revealed about the Todoroki family, the scandalous story of Enji Todoroki, and the abuse they have endured in his hands based on what he had experienced until 19. To be honest, everything wasn't really how they started. Touya grew up seeing Enji so proud of him, prancing him around as his firstborn, the one who will continue his dream of being the number one corporation in Japan with the best workforce and highest earning. Touya was actually more excited to learn more about business at a young age, studying how money worked through stock exchange games and trying to beat his father through crossword puzzles.

Then the next year, Fuyumi was born, and they were almost the same age, separated by months. One could even say she became his twin, and they shared the same room, the same bed, the same food, the same unisex clothes, the same words—just not the appearance and gender. When it was just the two of them, they somewhat understood each other even if Fuyumi sometimes find him annoying because of his silly pranks.

As he tells this to his therapist, he realizes a shocking truth.

Their family was okay back then. There were a lot of good times, and he had a hunch Fuyumi was the one who remembered most of them when it was supposed to be him, the oldest of the bunch. That's why it was a lot easy for her to forgive him. That's why she hoped so much for him to come back.

His favorite memory was of Fuyumi asking him to create a large drawing of the four of them because she wanted to give something to them. She was holding the same blue flowers their mother liked, and after everything was done, the two siblings met their parents at the living area where they were having tea. Enji ruffled Fuyumi's hair and told her to wash her hands after, noticing the dirt around her hands and in her fingernails. Meanwhile, Rei giggled melodiously, her laughter making Touya embarrassed as she patted his head. They were all happy. Everyone was happy.

When did everything go wrong?

"I think it was when... when Father found me pushing myself so hard because I was so devastated at my achievements that he had enough of me," Touya continued. "Whenever things won't go my way, I tend to neglect my body's capabilities. I stay up all night. I don't eat until I get the equation right. There were times when at a young age, I ripped my hair so bad due to stress. They manifested so bad that I resorted to violence."

A child who throws a violent tantrum. Torn apart posters of comic characters. Ruined picture frames and shattered glasses. Fearful eyes halting in time and unable to stop him from overworking himself. Scattered test papers with scores of 99, 98, 97, and 96 flooded all over like a burning reminder.

"I should've listened to Mother and Fuyumi-chan when they told me to have fun instead."

------

After two weeks, the therapist had the guts to ask him about Natsuo and Shouto. He used to evade questions about his two brothers, usually opting for silence or quickly dismissing the man with answers like, "I don't want to talk about them," or "It's not good." The therapist thought maybe Touya would never be able to discuss things about them, but he knew he had to bring them to the table. After all, the eldest Todoroki had mentioned before that seeing them born had been the small flicker of fire that burned their family down.

"Father thinks me and Fuyumi-chan were failures; it doesn't mean Natsu-kun wasn't either," Touya started, remembering the infant Natsuo and his cries ringing around the Todoroki household. Of course, disappointment was etched again in Enji's face, realizing that Natsuo did not live up to his expectations.

Touya could hear his familiar sigh in head, the way he was stoic but Natsuo was trying his hardest to please him. It broke Touya's heart, the way he could only watch his two siblings casted aside like him, thrown away like a garbage because their potential were wasted. In Enji's eyes, they weren't his children; they were experiments with his wife.

"His masterpiece was my younger brother, Shouto," he concluded.

"Do you hate Shouto?" the therapist asked.

Touya could only shrug, not clearly having a definition of what he felt towards his youngest brother. True, he felt so many things about his brother. He was the bane of his existence, after all. He despised him the day he was born, and yet he felt guilty the moment baby Shouto wrapped his stubby hand around his long finger, cooing at the warmth as he opened his heterochromatic eyes and gazed at him cutely. That day, Touya instantly felt a responsibility as his oldest brother, but at the same time, there was bitterness. He knew the youngest would be Enji's favorite; he just knew it, with the way he watched him all this time while he thinks he's not aware.

It will never be Shouto's fault that they weren't the favorites; but blaming him was so easy Touya could get away with it.

Shouto was unyielding, though; confused as to why Touya didn't like him but still trying his bestest to get along with him. He would trail behind him, meekly asking him to play with him, to ask their father if he could play with them for a bit because he wanted to be like the other kids and play. "You should be grateful he's spending time with you," Touya snarked at him, not speaking the next words. Because he wouldn't do that with us; with me. Of course, Shouto was so pure-hearted he just replied him with, "But being with Touya-nii and the others is a lot better. You all get to play other than study."

But studying and being the best was the only thing that kept Touya driving; it would be his downfall, though. Enji found out what he did to himself, knew from his teachers about his wellbeing. Touya goes to school with deep eyebags. Touya gets sulky about his grades. He snaps at the other kids at school. He almost got into a fight with another classmate for trying to cheer him up with his grades. And the next thing, Touya will be dragged to the hallway and Enji would not hesitate to slap sense in his face, disappointment and anger in his face as he beat Touya up for bringing shame to the family, for acting all so childish over some silly grades.

This was his usual routine. His parents would fight. His siblings will help him up to his feet. Fuyumi-chan will take the first aid kit and tend to his bruises. Natsuo-kun will try to shield Shouto away from the scene even though the youngest was already crying his eyes out, not wanting to see him hurt so bad. Don't cry for me, Shouto. Don't be that way with me. I hate you. I hate you the most. Please, don't be like that.

Afterwards, he would play the good son card, would keep his bursting feelings in check, watch over everything he would say and play right in Enji's palm. He needed his approval again, even if the attention was all showered on Shouto. It was damn frustrating, suffocating him the more he watched Shouto endure the beatings as he treated the three of them like nothing. At that moment, Touya wanted nothing to do with Shouto. If he did, he might unleash all these intrusive thoughts.

Fate was a trickster, and Touya would always find Shouto pleading for help, especially to him of all people. "Touya-nii, save me! Please!" It kept repeating like a broken record, haunting him in his dreams. The wet streaks. The runny nose. His tight fisting on his shirt. The way he would hiss his name. The eyes that cried so many times. Touya will never give in; a lie he told so many times.

Touya did give in, and without much thought. Shouto brought back those feelings he wanted; how it felt so happy that someone needed so much from him. He liked it. He felt appreciated. He felt blessed. He felt so free Shouto had no idea how much Touya wanted this for so long. That's why Touya tutored Shouto in secret, teaching him a thing or two about business, about stock exchange, about the Todoroki family, about the Endeavor Corp.—heck, he even laid down the basics of algebra and science on him, ensuring Shouto would be able to comprehend everything at the age of 5 and 6. It wasn't the same as when Enji acknowledged him, but for Touya, this was enough.

Enji knew about it, of course, and he didn't mind... at first. After all, he thought Touya was just helping his brother learn, keeping his mouth shut as he let them be. This aggravated Touya, pushing him slightly to the edge.

"The least he could do was acknowledge me," Touya stated bitterly to his therapist, remembering how Enji praised Shouto's performance instead of telling him how good of an older brother he was.

"So you used Shouto's kindness, is that it?" the therapist clarified.

Touya nodded. "But sometimes, I pity him. I felt those things only an older brother would feel."

There was a palpable tension as Touya gripped his knees to even out his breathing. The memories were getting more vivid than ever he swore it happened yesterday? Or the other day? But he was a lot younger back then. He was 14 when it happened, and he felt his bruises and scars getting more painful, his skin shivering from a certain coldness. Maybe it was Enji's eyes on him. The same eye color he and Shouto shared. He didn't know. He didn't care.

"Sekoto Peak," he mumbled in a trance, flashes of memories where Shouto held his hand and gazed at the view below him.

"Touya-nii, this is where you go often? It's so cool here!"

"Sometimes, I sleep here under the stars."

"R-Really? Do you bring Fuyumi-nee and Natsu-nii here?"

"I haven't."

"Let's go here, the four of us."

"..."

"Please?"

"I'll see what I can do."

"I couldn't bring them all," Touya admitted, gripping his head to force himself to remember. The therapist recorded his responses through his notes as he muttered everything in a fast pace. "I tried to make a plan. I brought Shouto there a few times without anyone knowing. I asked Natsuo and Fuyumi for help. Before we could all go, Father found out. I couldn't speak. I couldn't fight. I was hit by the bokken. They were all crying. Mother tried to protect me but Father slapped her. I could feel his kick and punch in my gut."

"... did he—"

"No. NO. HE WASN'T DONE!" Touya gulped nervously, imagining the scars on his body burning. "They were hot on my skin. It burned my flesh. I couldn't move. I cried and cried and cried. I begged for him to stop. I want him to stop. The hot iron. Everything. I want the world to stop. I couldn't become the son he wanted. I couldn't be Shouto's big brother. I couldn't give them everything."

And when he ended the story, that was when Touya finally cried, sobbing as fuck. He couldn't care about the world or the pitiful gazes. The boy cried so much from bearing all the sins he didn't do.

------

Touya spent a few months in isolation, his thoughts circling around his childhood and all the painful memories. When he was alone, he would write them all down, narrating that one moment in his and Natsuo's shared bedroom where Shouto secretly snuck in and apologized over and over. He kept blaming himself for Touya's pain. Everything was his fault that Touya was hurt so bad, and Touya wanted to agree. It was true, though. He hurt when he was born. He hurt when he got all the glory. He hurt when he became Enji's pride.

He just went silent about it.

Why did he?

It was never Shouto's fault.

"Shouto," he whispered, his hand reaching out to ruffle his hair despite the searing pain in his arms. There was a weak smile gracing his lips, bruised and battered yet patched up clumsily by a crying Fuyumi. "As I thought, I couldn't be your good older brother. Not anymore."

(Touya never knew but after a few years following his rebellion, Shouto went to Sekoto Peak and stared at the same view Touya admired so much, slept under the stars when everything became too much, and wished the four of them could be there together.)

ps. I removed the last part and placed it on the next chap in case y'all confused bcos the post is too long to read

next chap

masterlist

[severalforraelee]

The Girls Part 10: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Photo credit to Manu Fernandez / Associated Press

Word count: 3,151

Written by raelee / Posted June 3

Masterlist

Formula 1 Masterlist

The Girls Masterlist

“Can you put your shoes on?” I ask Ada, setting the tiny Converse in front of her. I hear my phone buzz from its spot on the coffee table but I ignore it, like I’ve been doing since it started buzzing this morning.

Someone really wants to get a hold of me, but I don’t care to respond to them. Ever since Charles and Lando left to go back to the Formula 1 world a couple of days ago, I’ve been a bit distant with everyone. It’s clearly noticeable from the way that Charles texted me the other day telling me that I have to respond to him- if only just to let him know that his daughters are still alive and taken care of.

So, the only reason I’ve picked my phone up in the past couple of days has been to text Charles updates on what the girls are doing or to send him a silly photo of them.

Ada giggles, shaking her head while giving me a toothy smile. I can’t help but smile at her back, barely having time to catch Lucy as she unexpectedly jumps into my arms.

My phone buzzes again.

I ignore it.

“Mama, phone,” Lucy points out as I push Ada’s shoe onto her foot.

“I know, Lucy.” I push the second shoe onto the other foot. “Can I put your shoes on now?”

She nods, moving to sit where Ada was sitting. I help her into her shoes and yank on my own, standing to grab the diaper bag that’s also been my makeshift purse since the girls were born.

I debate bringing my phone, I really do.

There is nothing I would love more than to be as far away from my phone as possible right now. Putting some physical distance in between me and my phone would feel like putting distance between me and the problems that are causing emotional turmoil. I would love to have relief from the problems that have been causing me distress for days and to have time to decompress and clear my head enough to figure out what I should do next with both Lando and Charles.

But I throw my phone into the diaper bag, because I know that I’m too anxious and paranoid to go anywhere without it. I always think that the time that I don’t bring my phone with me is the time that I’m going to need it.

Ada’s tiny hand is gripped in one of my hands with Lucy’s small hand in the other as we make our way down the street to the nearby park. One thing that I love about being a young mom in college is that sometimes, I have the mid-day free, which means that the places that we go to aren’t overcrowded with a bunch of other people.

“Wee,” Lucy cheers as I push her in the swing, Ada holding onto my leg for dear life, unsurely looking at the swing.

“Do you want to try to go on the swing, Ada?” I ask her.

She glances between me and the swing, resting her eyes on me.

“Let’s just try it, if you don’t like it, you can always get off,” I reassure her. She nods and I help her into the swing next to Lucy. I give her gentle pushes at first, then slowly pick up the pace, which causes her to shriek.

“Ada,” Lucy says, reaching her short arm out. Ada reaches her arm out too, connecting her hand with Lucy’s hand. The girls swing hand in hand, the swings moving simultaneously.

I smile admirably at the act of sibling love. Having twins was so hard at first. I would feed one and give them a diaper change, thinking that I would be able to sit down and rest for 5 minutes, but as soon as I put them down in their crib the other one would wake up. I swear, they planned it. There were a lot of tears- from both me and them, sleepless nights, and uncertainty of how the hell I was going to handle two babies at once. But seeing them grow up and their affection and love towards one another makes it all worth it. They love each other more than I could’ve ever hoped for.

I grab my phone from my pocket, taking a quick picture of the moment and posting it on my Instagram story before putting it away to push the girls some more. “Mama, sand,” Ada requests. Lucy nods vigorously, agreeing with her sister.

“Alright, you can go play in the sandbox,” I agree, pulling them out of the swings and setting them on their feet.

My feet carry me to the nearby bench that my bag is on, sitting down and watching the girls play with the toys in the sandbox.

My phone buzzes in my pocket with another phone call. I just sigh, leaning my back against the bench and keeping my eyes on the girls. I already know who it is. It’s the same person who’s been trying to get a hold of me for a few days now.

Lando.

I don’t want to answer his phone call. I don’t want to talk about the issues that I have with my family, I don’t want to hear his apology for trying to push me into returning to an environment where I’m clearly not welcome. Truthfully, I don’t want to think of any of it.

My family right now is me, Ada, and Lucy, with Charles and Lando sprinkled in every once in a while.

My phone dings with a text and I intent to glance over at it, just to see if it’s Charles and needs a response. It’s Lando, but his text catches my attention.

Please answer my calls, I know you’re on your phone, I just saw your Instagram story. I just want to make things right with you.

The text brings me back to the last couple of years that I’ve spent neglecting my relationship with Lando. Every time that I was struggling and wanted to call him, confess everything to him, knowing that at the end of the day everything would be alright because he’s my brother and he would forgive and support me. But instead, I spent all that time fearing his reaction.

Similar to what I’m doing now.

I sigh, glancing up to make sure that the girls are still playing nicely before clicking the phone icon under Lando’s contact.

“Hi,” he answers the phone immediately.

“Hey.”

“How are you?”

“I’m good. How have you been?” This dancing around the elephant in the room is excruciating, but I don’t want to get to the purpose of this phone call instantly. I’d rather ease into it.

“I’ve been good.” It’s quiet. “I just wanted to apologize for my part in how we left things. And for starting that conversation when I know how tense your relationship with our family is. And for not being there for you more. I’m sorry.”

I watch my thumb play with a fray on my shorts through tears in my eyes.

“I accept your apology.”

“I didn’t realize that things were so… hostile,” he says awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed with this conversation.

“Yeah,” I chuckle bitterly, swiping at the tears. “They were. They are.”

“Whenever you’re ready to repair things, if you’re ever ready, let me know and I’ll be right there by your side. I’d rather it be me than Charles.”

I let out a genuine laugh at that.

“Although, I will admit, and this will be the first and last time you’ll hear me say this, he does treat you well and he obviously cares about you.”

My heart flutters at the compliment. “Yeah, he’s great. Lucy, don’t throw that! I have to go, Lando, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah, of course. I love you.”

“Love you too.” The phone call ends.

Once I get Lucy situated, I sit back on the bench, able to process the conversation and my feelings. I appreciate his apology and concern, but I find it hard to believe that he had his head in the sand as much as he makes it seem when it comes to how our family treated me during my pregnancy. Sure, he wasn’t at every family event, but he was at enough to know that the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. And I’m still upset that he tried to push me into repairing my relationship with my family- he knows that if I have an issue with someone, it’s for a genuine reason. Trying to force me into repairing a relationship that he doesn’t know enough about why it broke in the first place rubs me the wrong way.

But he’s my brother. I love him, and it shows his strength and maturity in how much he tried to reach me to apologize. And to finally show his appreciation for Charles, who honestly doesn’t get as much credit as he deserves for how he’s acted since finding out that he’s a father. I really should tell him how much I appreciate him more.

~

“Dada,” Ada and Lucy shout simultaneously as the interview panel appears on the screen.

My heart flutters at the sight of Charles. He always looks handsome, but today his hair is longer and messier than usual so he looks even more charming.

I push those emotions down, instead reminding Ada to chew with her mouth closed.

“How was your summer break, Lando?” An interviewer asks.

“It was good, I got to see my family and friends and really just relaxed,” Lando gives his toothy grin.

“And how was your summer break, Charles?” The same interviewer asks.

“Yeah, it was really nice, I spent a lot of quality time with my family so it was a summer break well spent,” Charles breaks out his wide, genuine grin.

“Did you spend a lot of time at Ferrari, too, working on the car?” Lando questions Charles.

My stomach churns at the intentional dig, and it turns even more at Charles’ response.

He turns to Lando, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “Yep.”

It’s not the usual response that Charles would give to Lando, considering their friendship and the common knowledge that Lando’s jokes come off as rude sometimes. Usually Charles would joke back, make a little quip of his own.

I can’t help but wonder if this response is because when Lando and Charles left, Charles was still having to comfort me over my argument with Lando. I didn’t tell him that Lando and I resolved things- I didn’t think that it would be something that he wanted to know.

My fingers are opening Twitter before I can stop myself, another driver answering a question as background noise as I look up Charles Leclerc and Lando Norris to see if anyone else noticed that there continues to be this weird tension surrounding them.

And oh, people have.

I close the app after reading just a couple of tweets, not wanting to spiral in front of my two little girls.

I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do about my brother and kids’ father.

~

“Okay girls, dada’s in the red car and Uncle Lando’s in the orange car,” I tell my daughters as we get ready to watch the race.

“Dada?” Lucy asks as Carlos’ car appears on the screen.

“Well…” I pause to think about it. “Yes.”

They’re not even two years old, they won’t be able to tell if there’s one or two red cars. It’s just easier to tell them a color and whoever they see on the screen they’ll think is their dad or uncle.

The camera switches to a driver’s partner standing in the garage, chatting with his parents. For a brief moment I imagine myself in that position. One daughter in my arms with Lorenzo playing with her, another daughter in Charles’ mom’s arms as Arthur plays with her.

Charles and Lando have known each other for a long time, so of course I’ve met his family. But that was only briefly and I was introduced as Lando’s sister, not the mother of Charles’ children.

I’m a little fearful to meet his family- I don’t know what they think about me, and I’m not sure if I want to know. They probably hate me for keeping Charles’ kids from him for years.

But I wish I could be there with Lucy and Ada in person to cheer Charles on. I wish I could show the girls what their dad does and have them give him good luck kisses before the race. But the fear of the judgment that not just me, but Lucy and Ada would face terrifies me.

And I’d do anything to protect my daughters.

~

“You’re missing Charles, aren’t you?” The teasing French accent asks as soon as I answer his call.

I furrow my eyebrows, crouching down to grab the handful of toys off the floor to throw them into the bucket.

“Why do you think that?”

I can’t deny it. Although Pierre and I aren’t as close as Pierre and Charles, we still had a good friendship with a deep understanding of one another when I was at the paddock all of the time. If I denied that I was missing Charles- which we both know is the truth- he would harass me until I finally admitted it.

In a loving way, of course.

“Your Instagram story.”

I posted a picture on my private story of the back of the girls’ heads, watching the screen as Charles was interviewed for his third place finish. I was hoping my friends would take it as just a coincidence that Charles was on the screen when the photo was taken, looking mighty fine, might I add, but clearly Pierre can see through my bullshit.

“I need to take you off my private Instagram story,” I mutter under my breath, shoving the bucket back into the shelf.

“Hey, you can’t, I need to get all of the gossip,” he whines.

Despite him not being able to see, I roll my eyes, rising to my feet.

“Don’t worry, he misses you too.”

My feet that are carrying me to my next destination, the kitchen to clean, pause at his words.

He misses you too.

He misses me? Why would he miss me? He probably just misses me because being with me means being with Ada and Lucy. He doesn’t get to spend time with his daughters without having to see me to ask how they’re doing and get updates on their everyday life.

“Of course he misses Ada and Lucy, they’re his daughters,” I clarify for him, swallowing the lump in my throat. I load the dishes into the dishwasher, trying to distract myself by focusing on anything but his words.

“And you.”

My breath hitches at his words.

Every time that I try to convince myself that Charles doesn’t like me, that he doesn’t view me in a romantic way anymore, something appears to refute that. But… Pierre didn’t say that Charles misses me romantically. He could just miss me as a friend, or a constant presence in his life.

But by the tone of his voice… I can sense the deeper meaning.

“Pierre-””So when are you and the girls coming to a race again? We’re in Italy next week, it would be the perfect race to bring the girls to,” he interrupts, knowing that he doesn’t want to hear whatever I have to say.

“I won’t be bringing Ada and Lucy to a race anytime soon, Pierre.”

“Why not?”

“If Charles suddenly shows up with two toddlers and announces that they’re his daughters, the Formula 1 world would explode. Even if we show up not with Charles, people will recognize us,” I sigh, wiping down the counter.

“Show up with Lando, people already know that he’s your brother,” the Frenchman suggests.

“But there’s still rumors about the girls being Charles’ daughters. Besides, Lando and I don’t have the best relationship right now.”

Pierre pauses. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Good,” I can feel his relief through the phone. “I understand what you’re saying, I just wish you could return to the paddock and Ada and Lucy could be introduced to it.”

“I wish we could too, but I just want to keep them out of the public eye for as long as I can. They’re just so young, and being connected to Charles, one of the most popular Formula 1 drivers, they would get so much attention,” I confess to him my biggest worry with bringing the girls to the paddock.

“I am also a popular Formula 1 driver,” Pierre says defensively.

“Did I ever say that you weren’t?”

He’s quiet. “I guess not.”

I glance at the clock. “Alright, I have to go to bed, I have work tomorrow.”

“Charles is still having you work?”

“Try letting me work. He offers to pay for my expenses practically every other day, I’m waiting for him to force it on me at this point.”

He laughs at that. “Good luck with that. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Pierre.”

I hang up the phone, walking down the hall to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth.

I know that he didn’t mean to, but Pierre’s phone call worsens the feelings of guilt that I felt from watching the race earlier. There’s nothing more than I would love than to come to all of the races- I was a Formula 1 fan before I was involved with Charles. And I’d love to be able to support Lando like I used to.

It’s just not possible between work and school, but especially not now with two toddlers. And I know it’s not Charles’ fault for being so handsome and talented, but his status in the paddock definitely doesn’t help with the ease of bringing the girls to watch him race.

I don’t want to bring up my conflicting emotions to him, I don’t want to burden him with my thoughts and feelings. But sometimes I wonder what he thinks about this. I wonder if he would love to have the girls- or all three of us, if I’m daydreaming here, sitting in the Ferrari garage waving him goodbye before the race and giving him congratulations after the race. Or I wonder if he sees the paddock as more of a professional workplace, wanting to keep his private life and professional life separate.

I swallow down my feelings of guilt as I turn the light off, climbing into bed. I can’t crawl into Charles’ Leclerc’s head and find out, and honestly, I don’t know if I want to know the answer to that question. So I’m just going to go to bed.

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[pfffsfic]

Post-Fall Falls False Starts- Chapter 11: Bob

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It was as if the layers of sleep deprivation and bodily fatigue were stripped away from him all at once. No, that wasn't right- he was being stripped away from them, not the other way around. First came relief, and then came the realization that he hadn't for one moment been fully awake since he arrived on the first morning. Looking down at his body, which was thrashing around violently and baring its gums at the behest of its temporary occupant, he thought, 'geez, I look awful' (not that he looked much different from usual.) It was quite the hit to his self esteem (not that his self esteem had too many hit points.)

"Who the heck are you?" said Bill in his own voice, and then he backtracked and realized that he had promised he'd only ever say that once in ten billion lifetimes. "...I think I must have hit my head, 'cause I don't remember jack! Woah! I'm suddenly getting the urge to stab a hot poker into my eye! Heh heh, weird. Untie my hands so I can go and do that, would you?"

Sarah kept smiling that same unsettling smile. Rob wondered if anyone would have untied him after hearing that request, and considered for a moment if Bill was playing inscrutable 5D chess or if he truly was floundering for the right words and saying whatever came to mind. Just then, Bill turned his head at an unsettling angle and looked right up at Rob.

"So you think you're pretty clever, huh?"

He pretended not to hear him.

"You forgot I'm not stuck here! I can go whenever I want!" he yelled (or said- his volume was always an issue).

"And void the contract?" Sarah asked, leaning uncomfortably close to Bill's face.

"Huh?" He raised an eyebrow. "What do you know about the contract?"

"I know lots of things," she replied with an audible satisfaction in her voice. That was- no, impossible, Bill thought. Could that seriously have been some kind of coincidence? Who was this? He had to look at Rob's memories, and he had to do it now. But the 'before' memories or the 'after' memories? He was great at chess, he was, but they were playing checkers. He was good at checkers, too, mind you, but they had the checkers pieces on the chess board even though tournament rules should forbid them from bringing in pieces for other games- ah, this metaphor was tearing at the seams! Why couldn't it be as simple as them being his pawns? In his mind, the metaphorical chessboard grew orifices and them turned inside out and digested itself.

"I'll find another pawn," he said to Rob, referring partially to the metaphorical situation. "You think you're valuable? Needed? Don't make me laugh! Ahahaha! Too late, i'm already laughing!"

Sarah kept on smiling down.

"Do you have a twin?" she asked.

"W-what? Uh, like I said, I'm kind of an amnesiac right now! And having hallucinations- hey, uh, what's my name?"

He narrowed his eye, dreading the answer that was about to come out of her mouth. She would say Rob, right? It would be so much simpler if she said-

"What's your name? Do you mean your name or his name? Oh, sorry, I mean, do you want me to say Rob's name or your name? Rob's name is Rob."

"I-"

"Your name is Bill! Isn't it?"

He yelled in frustration and Rob thought that, even if for just a moment, Bill passed perfectly for him, a deeply unsettling realization.

"Okay, I'm taking that as a yes."

She passed a hand over her face and switched effortlessly into a scowl, leaning over him like this was some sort of bizarre horizontal police interrogation.

"Alright, slick," she said in a gruff tone, "You better get talking. Did you ever have any siblings? What were your parents like? Were you ever a baby or did you pop out fully grown? And did you have the hat and tie when you were born or did you get them later?"

This situation would have been hilarious if he wasn't one of the people involved.

"...Wouldn't it be silly if I broke your friend's wrists to get out of these ropes?" he said through an insincere, face-splitting smile.

That shut them up! Finally, some fear! Priceless. All he had to do was get rid of those pesky human inhibitions and yank real hard, now! But, wait, how would he break into the Mystery Shack with no hands? How would he try and pour something spicy into his eye with no hands? How would he do anything at all with no hands? On the bright side, neither of them had treated that like a bluff. That was good. Maybe he would just break Rob's wrists and leave the body for the look on their faces alone. There were other pawns- this had all been one big detour in his plan, to begin with. He had to focus on getting out of the-

Oh, right. Oh, right. The Nightmare Realm. The one that this kid had gotten into and then out of into the third dimension. The whole reason he had even taken interest in Rob and his many mysteries. It was time to take a look- and he knew this was the right choice- it was time to take a look at Rob's memories from before he arrived here. Unknowingly casting aside the chance at knowledge of his eventual defeat and how to avoid it, he made his choice and closed his eye.

"Wait, no! Don't put me back!" said Rob's mindscape form as he was pulled towards the body, a first in all of Bill's many centuries of interacting with humans. His pleas were ineffective and Bill brought both of them into a dreamless sleep, where he cracked his knuckles and prepared for the gargantuan task of sorting through the cyclops' memories. What would the boy's mind look like? A quaint childhood home? A lawless desert island? Some sort of polygonal Picasso dimension?

He saw all three, sort of. In front of him was TV static as far as the eye could see, surrounded by black borders above and below, marred with floating islands that held fully-intact buildings- houses. A mall. A school. A junkyard. A forest (though the entrance to that one had a sign reading 'NO BILL ALLOWED', which meant it had to have been Rob's post-arrival memories.) Hovering in the top left corner of his field of vision regardless of where he turned was a pause symbol, as if he was looking not at a dreamscape but at a television screen containing one.

There was a wall of light in the distance beyond which all of the islands looked unfinished, like storyboard drawings. Past those were simple sticky notes and then nothingness- the furthest extent of Rob's memories, no doubt. Dreamscapes were never linear or easy to navigate, but with time he could definitely piece together an understandable story. It was just a matter of picking a starting place. And where better to start than the nearest building to him- a mall?

-

The mall was dark and cold. Gone was the crowd that had been a constant presence since the first day of the apocalypse, gone was the frenetic atmosphere. No one was here. Maybe the fighters had been sent through the ceiling and all of the spectators had followed them out to wherever they had landed? Sure, maybe. Either way, hoping that this was temporary, he took up his usual spot in the car park and waited for business that took several hours to arrive. The sound of footsteps approaching was such a relief that he forgot about his mystery man act entirely for a moment.

"Oh, Harold," he said. "Ah! I mean, what may my establishment do for you?"

"You will refer to me as Mayor Wilson."

"...Since when does this place have a mayor?"

"Since the Order Order reestablished order in Eastmore."

"The what? I've been gone for five hours, how much could have changed?"

"Well, I'm glad you asked-"

"Actually, I'd rather not know."

He cleared his throat and began to answer anyways.

"The unruly atmosphere needed to be quashed lest this town tear itself apart. I and several like-minded colleagues put together a new order for order, the Order Order, in opposition to the Chaos Order, which currently occupies the territory of-" he shuddered- "Westmore."

"Westmore?"

'Mayor Wilson' stood at one of the broken car park windows and the van reluctantly followed. Sure enough, there was now a fence with plenty of police tape at the parallel edges of a few floating islands, beyond which almost every building was on fire and distant figures yelled and screamed near-profanities.

"Oh," said the driver. "So you're preventing this town from being torn apart... by dividing it in half?"

"Precisely! Ah, and if you intend to do business in Eastmore, you need to know we've reestablished a stable currency around here. No more 'anything goes'."

"How'd you convince people to adopt one?"

"With money," he said, proudly putting his hands on his hips and then quietly, quickly speaking under his breath, "andthethreatofviolence."

"Sorry?"

"Ahem! Nothing, nothing, my friend. Now, the new currency is Pogs. They told me my collection would never be valuable, but look at who's laughing now! Oh ho, it's me. I'll take one can of caviar." He emptied three wallets full of the aforementioned things through the window and onto the driver's lap before he could even protest.

"I don't have any caviar in stock."

"...Hm. Well, then, give me the closest thing you have, and by royal decree, you shall fetch some next time you stock up."

"Royal decree? You're a mayor!"

"A mayor whose territory you are parked in. I have supreme authority to boot your vehicle, sir, and all the Pogs I need to get it done!"

"I'm going to Westmore," said the driver, revving up and plunging through the window, but not before he grabbed a few food items from the back and knocked Harold down like a bowling pin with a well-placed breakfast burrito to the face.

-

The mall was full of light. The windows betrayed no signs of the TV static world outside, though the clouds in the sky were frozen in place and the pause symbol loomed where it has been from the start. There were beings here, also frozen- blob people, food people, shape people (who Bill found oddly familiar). All of their faces were missing, covered up by dripping static ooze. One figure, being dragged into a static door in the center of the hall, was entirely obscured by the ooze- why just him? Bill thought the figure might have been Rob himself, but after a while he noticed that there was a Rob here, too, not too far from the door, also perfectly frozen. This was a snapshot of a memory.

Entering an unmanned video store, he encountered more obscured figures and flipped through the DVDs on sale, each one a memory that popped up on the TV behind the counter as soon as he opened the case. They all seemed to be of various sorts of traps, but none of them went past one still frame. Weird- were this guy's memories really so bad that they were just still pictures? Or-

Bill glanced up at the pause button in the corner, narrowed his eye, and left the video store to look for the nearest TV remote, which he found without much fanfare in memory-Rob's frozen hand. Sure enough, the world sprung to life after a single press! But things were still perfectly silent. Before Bill could adjust the volume, memory-Rob chucked the remote into the static door, which he promptly closed. He would have found a way to follow it in if a wall of credits hadn't suddenly started rolling. Unable to access the rest of the memories in the mall, he decided he'd return later and popped right back out into the dreamscape proper, making a mental note that Rob had a lot of traps in his repertoire. That told him absolutely nothing important.

Next up was the school.

The student body painted just as chaotic an image of the boy's home dimension as the mall patrons had. It seemed at first that Rob wasn't actually present in any of the various school-centered memories until Bill noticed the consistent presence of a grotesque (in his rather hypocritical opinion) blue-skinned monocular student in a near-identical outfit. It occurred to him that maybe something happened to change the kid's appearance, but what? He had no frame of reference, no glimpses into this guy's life to guide him through the dreamscape. He was supposed to be in control, and yet here he was, blindly looking for something of consequence in a sea of apparent irrelevance. Just then the school shifted and distorted around him. The students vanished. The floor caved in. Every door in the hallway fell away- all but one. The superintendent's office?

-

The superintendent's office was still intact, and so were the machines! It had been a perilous path around several unstable 'potholes' (read: holes in the floor that led down into the abyss) and through at least one crowd of pitchfork-wielding war paint-wearing children, but he was here, and he could reclaim- and hopefully resell- his wares. While he loaded them back into the van, he checked the tires for any signs that one of the kids had been stupid enough to stand in his way, and thankfully found nothing. Not that getting run over would have killed most of them. Most of them had survived worse.

The driver wandered around the sales floor and checked inventory. None of the contained items had breached their cases, there were no mysterious liquids on the floor, everything was-

His eyes grew wide as his gaze fell upon his media shelf, where one of the DVDs for sale was conspicuously missing.

-

The superintendent's office had four tall cages in it and nothing else. They were covered by dark cloths like museum exhibits yet to be unveiled. The room was silent. When he yanked down the coverings, he found that there were four frozen figures, one in each cage- three versions of Rob and one older human man in a suit. Was this a memory? What kind of weird life had Rob lived?

A few moments later, when nothing happened, Bill turned to leave, only to be interrupted by a voice from the second cage.

"Let us out!" said memory-Rob #2. "Don't just float there! What's wrong with you?"

He turned around, unsure what exactly was going on.

"We can hang out! Maybe talk about friend stuff," suggested memory-Rob #1.

"Friend stuff? How naive. None of us are friends here. We have disavowed friendship," said memory-Rob #3 in a deep, English-accented voice. "You ought to let me out and keep the others imprisoned-"

"NO!" yelled #2.

"That really sucks of you to suggest!" yelled #1. "Seriously, man?"

"Calm down, calm down. Who, uh, who are you guys? And who's that?" Bill pointed to the human, whose gaze was silent and intense.

"I'm Rob," said memory-Robs #1 and #2 at the same time in happy and angsty tones, respectively.

"I'm Dr. Wrecker," said memory-Rob #3.

"No, he's Rob too," said the human, finally. "We all are."

"What, you're also a Rob?" Bill crossed his arms.

"It's a rather long story."

"I'll find out one way or another. Are you guys, what, alternate personalities?"

"We're all just parts of the mind," offered Rob #3. "I know full well that I've moved on from this identity, and yet it lingers within me, as me. Try not to think too hard about it."

The others nodded.

"We can still be friends!" said #1. Bill promptly pulled the cloth back over his cage and he went silent like a canary, but none of the others protested.

"What would happen if I bent the bars and let you out?"

"How should we know, man?" said #2.

"You're the master of the mind. You tell us," said #3- Wrecker?

"Doing something so reckless would earn you detention- I mean, excuse me, interfere with the natural functioning of my mind," said human-memory-Rob. " Regardless of the immature prattling of-"

"Who are you calling immature?"

"You're a child-"

"You're also a child! We're all a child!"

"I like to think of myself as an adult," offered Wrecker, and he earned death stares from #2 and the human one.

"Uh, do you guys want me to-"

Before Bill could finish his sentence, both of the non-Wrecker Robs nodded, and Bill took that as a sign to cover Wrecker's cage.

"You being in my head makes me uncomfortable," said #2.

"Tough luck. You let me in."

"Fair enough," said #2, pulling the cloth into his cage and covering himself up. Bill and the human were left in the office, staring at each other with mutual contempt.

"You have overstayed your welcome. I suggest you leave my office this instant."

"Your office? You're the superintendent? How old is Rob, anyways?"

"That's a matter of how you count."

"What's that supposed to-"

"13," said Superintendent Rob. "not that I would admit it."

"13 and he's looked like you before?"

"How would you like to have two eyes?" said Superintendent Rob, raising an eyebrow and speaking in a sinister tone.

Bill left the room before he could even wonder about what that threat meant.

Glimpses of silent memories stored in the junkyard and assorted houses made one thing clear: there was something that was, even here in his target's mind, being kept from him. Nearly ever memory featured at least one figure whose features were obscured by static. Sometimes more. This figure was the target of Rob's ire more often than not, but it was difficult to figure out what was happening with no sound, and so far none of the memories had contained any TV remotes for Bill to use. As he approached the wall beyond which things looked unfinished, he entered one final house, recounting everything he could now say he knew about Rob.

The boy was a career criminal with hijacking, kidnapping, and destruction of property on his rap sheet. He was good at making traps, but perhaps not good at using them. Much of his time- in fact, the vast majority of his time- was spent plotting to destroy and/or trying to destroy a mysterious figure whose form had been scrubbed from memory, save for a short period of time during which he had been trying to kill a banana or two instead. His surroundings were modern. He was 13 years old. Something had changed to make him look slightly less freaky, but what exactly caused that change was unclear as of yet. There were shape people in the kid's home dimension who Bill knew from somewhere, maybe, or maybe most other triangles just looked the same.

None of that felt very useful. Sure, maybe he could use the criminal thing for blackmail, but this was in a whole different universe, and besides, this guy didn't seem like the type to be ashamed of himself. Embarrassing him also seemed like a dead end; he had been embarrassed so many times and kept getting right back up. He was the sort of person to fail 563 times in a row and not take even the slightest hit to his self-esteem. That was probably because it was already at rock bottom. The kid's ego was there, but he wasn't naive enough to make it easy to stroke. All in all: he was the furthest thing from an ideal target.

The last house was currently bare, save for a basement door that sat wide open.

-

"Sweetie, use your fingers. That's where all the grip strength is." She put her hands around his, repositioning them around the handle of the nailbat and guiding his arms in a swing. "Okay, now, go get 'em!"

He closed his eyes, gulped, and swung blindly, hitting the hastily-drawn wooden cutout of a cyborg in leather and sending it to the ground with a massive dent in its face.

"Ah!" He opened his eyes. "I did it! I didn't even hit myself with the recoil that time! YES! What do you say, Darwin, could I totally take on an army of radioactive monsters, or what? Oh, no need to answer, I know I could- AH!"

He spun the bat in celebration and smacked himself in the face with it, keeling over backwards. Meanwhile, the small rabbit in the back of the room erased the 'STREAK: 1' on the recently-established family training whiteboard and replaced it with 'STREAK: 0'.

"I don't know about you guys, but I think that was good enough to count towards my streak," said Gumball from his position on the floor. "I didn't even give myself a black eye that time! You gotta give a guy credit where credit is due."

Darwin sighed and put a gold star sticker reading 'ALMOST FINE' on his sweater.

"What, you don't even have any that say 'GREAT JOB'?"

"We're out of 'GREAT JOB'. Soon enough we're gonna have to break into the 'NOT THE WORST EVER' stickers."

"This is an emergency," he said, sitting up. "We gotta go out there!"

He scrambled for the basement stairs, but Nicole blocked his way, brandishing the nailbat.

"No family of mine is stepping out of that door until each of us can take down twenty cardboard cutouts in a row with perfect form," she growled, holding out the bat. "Now, remember-" her tone suddenly became encouraging- "the key to grip strength is using your fingers."

-

The memories in this house were fragmented and out of order. Bill moved from room to room, usually unable to see anything but the static-covered figures, who spent so much time here that it might have been their house. Was Rob related to them, or did he live here for some other reason?

Just when he thought he might complete his tour in silent mode, another TV remote, this time in the hands of one of the hidden figures, appeared in one of the glimpses of the past. He rushed forward and turned on the sound. There was very little of significance to hear, except maybe that Rob's voice was a lot deeper in this memory. Because of the remote? Was that something he could be affected by? That had a practical application. Took him long enough to find one. The static guys' voices were garbled and unintelligble.

Bill left the house the second it emptied of memories and floated before the odd wall. His attempt to simply pass through it, strangely, didn't work. He hit it like a pane of glass. After several more failures that he was glad nobody was around to see, he noticed a thin seam, stuck his hands into it, and wrenched a hole open. Was that doing damage to the kid's mind? Eh, whatever.

Before Bill could go beyond the wall, a van burst through the hole, skidded to a stop, and then pulled away, dissolving a few feet from the barrier. It was followed shortly by yet another memory-Rob. This one was freshly glitching and looking to be in pain. It got up, expressed some palpable anger, and stormed off, dissolving just as the van had; the memory was a shorter loop than most of the others. When it restarted, Bill floated through the hole and saw, to his great satisfaction, a decidedly un-glitchy Rob in the distance.

"Guys! Guys, wait for me!"

For once, he didn't need dialogue to understand what was happening. The boy had clung to the back of the van and been crunched between two sheets of the fabric of reality. Bill didn't know something like that could happen, but it held endless potential for amusement.

The area beyond the wall was sketchy and incomplete. This would have been his early childhood- the one piece of his life missing from the rest of his dreamscape- and yet there were holes here, holes where his childhood home, his parents, his entire pre-adolescence should have been. It was as if there had never been any memories here, only gaps. Why was he so bored? Why was this so cumbersome? Why did he not want to go back through all the memories with sound this time? Somewhere along the line he had missed the memory of how Rob traveled to- and then out of- the Nightmare Realm, but that could have been absolutely anywhere.

His last order of business was wandering to the forest island and floating in front of the 'NO BILL ALLOWED' sign for a good 10 dream-minutes. He would come back here. He had to. But he didn't want to spend another second in this miserable place! Not when he could be making some progress on his original plan, which was so close to fruition that he could nearly see time dying already.

He wasn't frustrated, he told himself, he was calm. He was the master of this place, and he did not get upset so easily- he thought back to the recent time he got upset pretty easily during an in-mind confrontation and then tried to stop thinking about it for the sake of his own confidence. Maybe he was frustrated! Maybe he was-

With a scream that could have passed for a human affected by a night terror, he sat up in the physical world, seething, and the real Rob was ejected once again.

[dreamersbcll]

I know it's early for Christmas, BUT i was thinking that it could be nice to have a story where the core 4 celebrates Christmas a lot earlier because since sam left, tara refused to have anything to do with that holiday and so this is sort of a reapay for all the the christmases she missed

“Sixteenth”

(a little break from whump. happy sunday!)

—————————————————————————-

“Okay, now smile!”

Sam grinned widely at the camera, squinting a bit as the flash obscured her version. Her baby sister, well, her twenty-one-year-old sister, sat on her lap, beaming at the lens, her eyes twitching a bit.

They had been taking pictures for at least twenty minutes now, Chad dancing around in his stupid fuzzy sweater in the background, Mindy taking the photos. It was their “new tradition,” as Mindy claimed.

She wasn’t stupid. Sam knows that this was an attempt by the twins to give the sisters what they yearned for most: time. So the minute after they got home from their Halloween movie marathon at the Carpenter’s, the twins got to work. Mindy was the mastermind, Chad the muscle. Together, they proposed a plan, Operation Carpenter Christmas!

First was the matching Christmas sweaters, then the stocking-making session, and now the cheesy, 90s-inspired Christmas photo shoot. Tara refused to take solo photos, only allowing herself to be in pictures where she could cling to Sam. Various images of Sam holding Tara like a baby, a Step Brothers homage, and now, Sam holding Tara on her lap on the stool.

It was silly. It was only November sixteenth, for crying out loud. Sam was hardly in the mood for Thanksgiving turkey, much less evergreen trees. But here she was, holding Tara to her lap, smiling at the shaky camerawork of Mindy Meeks-Martin.

Squeezing Tara's shoulder again, Sam leaned in, resting her chin against Tara’s back. “You okay, my sweet girl?” she whispered, her breath tickling the back of her little sister’s neck.

Tara squeaked in response but leaned into Sam’s touch. “I’m okay. Focus, Sam. We haven’t even finished the stool photos.”

Rolling her eyes, Sam pulled back and straightened up.

“Okay, no more chattering ladies. It’s time for gift-giving pictures!” Mindy crowed, Chad clapping enthusiastically in agreement.

Sighing, Sam plastered on a smile. It was only the sixteenth of November. This was ridiculous.

Yet she still smiled with suppressed joy at Tara’s reaction to the photos.

And so what if she bought a tiny picture for her wallet?

It wasn’t Christmas yet.

——

Staring at the scene before her, Sam shook her head. “Nope. I can’t ice skate. This is ridiculous.”

They were at an ice rink, the only one open to the public for free in the city. It was a dinky rink, the lights half on, the music perpetually being eighties pop hits. But Sam couldn’t deny the excitement that fizzled from her sister or how she felt a little bit excited at the prospect of making new memories with Tara.

But ice skating? Come on. She thought she dodged a bullet when she vetoed an ugly sweater-wearing contest, but she underestimated Mindy’s sly smile.

So here she was, staring at a couple of amateur skaters stumbling out on the ice. It was her turn next to make a fool of herself.

Tara rolled her eyes back, tugging at Sam’s hand. “Nuh-uh. We’re gonna go ice skating. Besides, we can’t be worse than Chad, right?” she chirped, giving Sam lethal puppy eyes.

Blowing a piece of hair out of her eyes, Sam groaned. “Fine. Let's go,”

Now if she were to say they were incredible, natural-born skaters, she would be a damn liar. But surprisingly, if they held onto each other just tight enough, they could stay upright. When Tara stumbled to the left, Sam veered right, and so forth. They barely went faster than a snail, yet they did better than the twins.

Chad kept slipping, falling backward onto his ass like a cartoon character. Mindy laughed every time until she fell right on top of him. Sam doesn’t think they even made two laps around the rink before they left.

Sam had to grudgingly admit that this activity was rewarding. Seeing Tara concentrate hard, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth, Sam knew what love was. She may not have been good at it or good at staying around to find out what love was, but here, she knew that she craved it like no other drug she had ever ingested.

Discreetly, on one of the rare occasions where Mindy stayed upright for more than two seconds, she took many photos of the sisters skating together.

Her favorite one was Sam falling, taking Tara down with her, the two toppling on one another. She especially adored how Sam checked Tara over for any bruises and kissed her face all over.

Mindy knew her plan was working. She was slowly wiping away all the tears. Tara didn’t have a big sister at Christmas, no matter how much she wrote to Santa or prayed to God. It wouldn’t fix everything, but it damn well would make up for lost time.

November was just as magical as the Christmas season itself.

——

After three cups of hot chocolate and about seventeen cookies, Tara was out cold on Sam’s lap, snoring softly. They had just finished the Polar Express, and the ending knocked Chad and Tara out cold.

Mindy was searching through the Christmas movies on the floor, looking for her favorite, It’s a Wonderful Life. Coincidentally, it was Tara’s favorite as well—pretentious little shits.

Looking down, Sam gazed fondly upon her sleeping sister. Tara was snoring quietly, her eyelids fluttering slightly. Her head was firmly in Sam’s lap, her hands wrapped around her big sister’s thighs, anchoring herself to Sam. Though they were both in matching, sweltering flannel pajamas, Tara still held on. It was wondrous how such a precious thing could love Sam despite her flaws.

“I love you, baby. Merry Christmas,” Sam whispered, tucking one of Tara’s wild locks of hair behind her ear.

Sam was startled at the sudden squeal that came from Mindy. The girl was smiling wide with a shit-eating grin. There, Sam realized her mistake.

“Hey. Quiet. She’s sleeping,” Sam shushed, frowning at the noise.

Mindy just shook her head, laughing to herself. “You said Christmas! I knew this would work!” she crowed, pumping a fist of victory in the air.

Shaking her head, Sam flipped off the gleeful girl with her free hand. “Fuck you. It’s still November sixteenth, weirdo,” she hissed.

The girl shrugged. “All the more reason to celebrate. Man, we’re gonna be so ready for the actual holiday!”

Sam snorted, waving the girl off.

Wait.

“There’s more?”

Mindy’s laughter could be heard from thousands of miles away, probably even the North Pole.

Whatever.

[hayffiebird]

Taste of Strawberries, chap. 42

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay Multi-chapter, Rated M

Four years have passed since the end of the war when Effie returns in to Haymitch’s life once again. An old friendship is renewed. Will it lead to something more?

Meanwhile Panem has entered a new era. The rebellion’s over, the borders are open but in the shadows, anger and mistrust are smoldering. Something that will affect Haymitch and Effie’s life in a way they never saw coming.

Author's note: As always, thank you for your lovely support! It's almost midnight here, I've been editing for six hours (oh God) and finally had to call it a day even if it ain't perfect. I hope you enjoy the result! Please consider leaving a comment and tell me your thoughts! What do you think will happen next? :)

Slight TRIGGER WARNING for minor mentions like in previous chapters.

Chapter 42

A big big big day

His gift wasn’t among the others. Haymitch turned the presents over. Those big enough to qualify. Squeezed one here, shook one there, holding on to hope that Effie or June or Annabel had signed the delivery while he was passed out.

No such luck. Course not.

Should’ve called the shop sooner.

He ran a tired hand through his hair and poured himself a shaky cup of coffee.

For someone who considered gifts overrated – unless they consisted of food or clothes maybe – he was pretty bloody bummed out about the whole thing. Silly, yeah but … he really wanted the twins to have it and have it on the right day.

Maybe tomorrow. Or the day after. The post office in Eleven was famously slow, according to Annabel.

He was halfway through his cup of joe when the front door opened.

Annabel, smiling and carrying the topnotch chocolate cake. And in her wake, Effie. With one birthday child on each hip.

God, was she pretty! Prettier than usual, if that was even possible. With the strawberry dress gone – thanks to a certain retired mentor – she wore a white and pink plaid dress. A wide skirt just brushing her kneecaps, spaghetti straps and a large flat bow at the side of her waist.

Her hair was gathered in a ponytail for a change. Pink ballet flats. No “yank friendly” jewelry around her neck. No lipstick or lipgloss either. She gave that up after the twins were born since she kissed it all off on them anyway. Around her ankle: a simple silver bracelet. Simple but beautiful.

Yeah, she was gonna kill him for sure.

Amy wore pink too. Pink with ruffles. No matching bow or ribbons though. Even if she’d had any hair to speak of, the little girl would not stand for it.

Her mother had gone and dusted off one of her own princess dresses, by the looks of it, in honor of today. A toned down, less outlandish one but still – definitely more Capitol than district. He counted four different shades of pink. Posy would have loved it.

Ian on the other hand looked just about ready for District 4, dressed up in a little sailor’s outfit. White and dark blue with boats printed on the chest.

Silly ol’ Effs.

She wasn’t usually that all consumed by the whole “pink for girls, blue for boys” ideal. At least not anymore. But even she couldn’t help herself sometimes.

He had to hand it to her though – if this was Capitol it was Capitol low key. He’d seen toddlers back in the old city who looked more like fashion accessories than actual human beings. And sure, Effie wasn’t above wrestling Haymitch into gaudy outfits but she always went easy on the twins. Just like she went easy on Alexander, when she was but a girl herself.

Quite telling, if you thought about it. What kind of person she was at the core.

And contrary to popular belief, Effie preferred the district look for her kids. How was that for ironic? And the clothes he wore as a baby and toddler? Shit, she treasured them like they were truffles – the rarest, most (would be) expensive ingredient Sae used in her cooking, once in a blue moon.

Each night before bed, Effie laid out the children’s clothes for tomorrow and make no mistake! Unless they were currently peed in, pooped at or covered in baby spit-up, she always chose something of his.

“What is it with you and these rags?” he once asked her back in Twelve, while he helped Amy into a patched up romper the color of porridge. “Seriously. Capitol Effie would have shuddered. Called them poor man’s gear. Washcloth outfits.”

“I would not!” Effie protested from the other side of the bed, working the mismatched buttons of Ian’s playsuit. “District Vintage, maybe. And these aren’t rags! Don’t call them that! You know how special they are to me.”

“Why?”

She lifted Ian up. Held him close. With her cheek against the top of his head, she glanced over at Haymitch like he was the biggest idiot in all of Panem.

“Because you are!” she said. “Special. Something you really should know by now. I had your love children, for crying out loud. You’d think that if anything would be a tip off. And every time I see Amy or Ian wearing something you wore, it’s like I get a little echo of you. The child you once were. And since I don’t have any baby pictures of you, this is the second best thing. Well”, she added after a moment’s pause. A smile curved her lips. “Except for the twins themselves. Because of course they’d come out looking exactly like you. That’s just my usual luck.”

“Luck or curse”, Haymitch replied. Amy yawned as he lifted her from the bed. “There we go, baby.” He rested her against the side of his chest, her head on his shoulder. “They have your hair”, he said, pointing out the obvious.

“Mm. Only proof we’ve got that you didn’t actually make them all on your own.”

She never made the connection. Between the clothes and his kid brother. So obvious and yet, the lights never came on.

It was alright though. Really. Sure, he always felt a little pinch every time he saw the kids in Amadeus’s clothes. But not as much anymore. Not as the months passed.

Yeah. By some miracle, that particular gash got to scab over. Become a scar. Tender to the touch yes, but not bleeding, festering.

As time wore on he started to associate the clothes not only with his dead brother and dead mother but with Amy and Ian as well. That was one big reason for it. Plus Amadeus would’ve loved it if he knew that his niece and nephew spent their days dressed in his old stuff.

And Sae – that sharp-eyed ol’ busybody – she much have known this. Predicted his change of heart, or else she never would have given the clothes to Effie in the first place.

When the twins were still newborns he thought Effie might break out Alexander’s old clothes for them. The precious few garments she still had of her stars and butterflies and lady bugs baby after that prick Kane burned the rest or whatever.

But she never did. Too painful. And, obviously, he steered clear off the subject since she wasn’t ready to deal with any of that. Perhaps she never would be.

The reality of that heart-breaking situation only made it easier for him to let her have a field day with “his” old rags. Sorry, his special rags.

You couldn’t be flint-hearted with Effie anyway. Her over the moon excitement. You got to be pretty fucking cruel to take that away. Especially after she blessed you with two children.

Oh God. She’s gonna hold that over my head forever!

Little echoes. Special because you are special. Yeah, he could see what she meant by that. If he reversed their positions in his head.

After she bought the house from June and Annabel and the last of their moving vans had left for District 11 – they arranged for her things to be brought back in. Effie had donated a lot of the furniture to vintage and charity shops when she lost her home but some were kept in storage. As were most of her personal belongings. Like, for instance, the piles upon piles of little kiddie clothes.

Not Alexander’s. Effie’s own.

Now, Haymitch didn’t consider himself a sentimental guy. But when he first got a load of those silly little outfits he was almost overcome with tenderness and affection. As if a kitten – Scotch maybe – just rolled over in his chest, flexing his tiny claws.

They were just so small and so ridiculous.

Princess-pink, primrose yellow, spring green and pale shades of purple like a lilac branch. Effie’s ma and pa had stockpiled the stuff like they had ten kids instead of one. Either they planned on producing a shitload of offspring or they lived by the notion that even a newborn’s outfit was to be worn only once.

“Oh, haha! Look at these!” Effie had chuckled over by the couch, holding out a pair of the tiniest high heeled baby shoes you ever saw. White with black dots and red on the inside. “I forgot I even had them. Say what you will about me, Haymitch. I had style. Right from the very beginning.”

“Yeah, totally”, he said, cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by boxes. “But those Haute Couture diapers were a waste on you. You just soiled them 24-7.”

Effie chuckled and placed the little shoes back in the box. Reached for a soft pink hooded romper instead. Velvet, by the look of it. Patterned with raspberry colored hearts.

“My parents always knew they wanted to have children”, she said. “Especially my mother. She had this romantic scenario in her head that she would be blessed with a baby on her wedding night. Or maybe even more than one. Twins run in my family, did I ever tell you?”

“Noo. Really?”

She brushed the soft fabric against her cheek. “Mama was so disappointed when it didn’t happen at the drop of a hat. They ended up trying for years to get pregnant. You know, the old-fashioned way.”

“What other ways are there?”

Effie smiled.

“Well, I for one am an IVF baby.”

 “A what?”

“IVF. In vitro fertilization. Hospital procedure. They removed one of my mother’s eggs and mixed it together with my father’s sperm. So, unlike you or Katniss or Peeta I was first on a lil’ petri dish.”

Haymitch grinned.

“Created in a lab. I should have known.”

“Just the embryo, silly! Which was then implanted into my mother’s womb. I was carried and born like any other baby. Took a few tries though. Like … half a dozen eggs or so. My father’s juices weren’t too great. It drove my mother halfway up the wall. The hormone injections she had to take.”

“Yeah, well.” Haymitch gave a light shrug. “It was worth the wait.”

Effie looked up from the romper, an amused glint in her eyes.

“Is that your way of saying you feel fortunate to have me in your life?”

“Is there any other way to put it? The way I see it, I got a pretty decent deal out of it. Three for the price of one.”

Effie chuckled and tossed a pair of baby socks his way.

“You darling you.” She folded the romper neatly and placed it in the “let’s keep” pile on the couch. “So, what do we do with all this? I mean, some we can use but the rest? Do we give it away or …?”

“Nah, too cruel. I vote that we keep ‘em. As a memory. A timestamp. ‘Effs Trinket – The early years’.”

In the end though, even the things they did keep – they hardly ever used. Not only were the clothes hella impractical to get on and off. They were also a pain to wash correctly. Shrunk super easily – especially with Haymitch in charge – and 80 % of it had to be hand washed anyway, if you didn’t want the colors to bleed.

Annabel set the birthday cake on the garden table. The soft clink pulled Haymitch out of his reverie. Amy’s eyes landed on June and the one year old instantly held her arms out with a firm whine. The blonde woman’s face brightened and the little girl soon climbed from her mother’s arms and into her auntie June’s.

The sight pinched Haymitch’s chest, immediately bringing on a self-insult.

Grow up. What’s wrong with people lovin’ them?

Nothing. Nothing at all. But he couldn’t help it. It hurt. Hurt that his daughter’s first impulse was to go to June and not him.

Annabel’s wife may have a hard time dealing with him as of late but she adored his children. They both did.

Ian was still with Effie. His little fist keeping a firm grasp on one of her dress straps.

Haymitch ached to hold him. Hug the crap out of him and seek some comfort in his softness and warmth and sweet baby smell.

But Effie wouldn’t want him to. He knew without her saying it. She didn’t trust him with them yet. Not when he was still so hangover he couldn’t even stomach a slice of birthday cake without puking on the lawn.

He downed the last of his coffee. He was going to need a lot of the stuff to get him through today. All the while, ignoring how much better it would taste with a drop or three of hard liquor.

His eyes kept returning to June, holding his daughter. Annabel said something about “sugar dream cookies” and turned for the house but her wife hardly noticed, absorbed as she was by his little girl. She tickled her tummy and the child giggled and squirmed in her embrace.

It was all he could do not to yank his kid out of her arms and yell something like “Get your own!!”

Biting the inside of his cheek, he turned and poured himself some more coffee.

She’s not taunting me on purpose.

It wasn’t June’s fault that he was a stinking hot mess who couldn’t do a thing right. Not even when his kids had a birthday.

June and Annabel had been some of the first to ever meet the twins. Even before Katniss and Peeta. Annabel at the hospital. June, a few days later.

“Want me to bring you anything?” she asked over the phone and Effie said, quick as a flash:

“Coffee. Please, a bucket of it!”

Black. Just the way she liked it. Along with some homemade cheesecake, courtesy of June.

He remembered the way her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree seeing Amy and Ian, sound asleep against Effie’s bosom. That’s where the twins liked it best, especially since their so called father was still too freaked to hold them.

“Oh, I want two myself”, Annabel had smiled, her brown eyes shiny. “Two just like them.”

“Well, don’t look at me”, Haymitch said, stretched out on the hard leather couch. “This factory’s closed.”

Effie and Annabel exchanged a look and they both chuckled.

“That’s unfortunate”, the latter said.

They were just joking around of course. And lucky him. Because after everything the two ladies had done for his family, he’d be hard-pressed to refuse.

For some reason, he never gave it much thought at the time, but seeing June with Amy just now … It got him wondering.

Why didn’t June and Annabel have any children themselves?

Sure, you could be fond of kids and great with them and still choose to be child-free. Happy to be just “mom’s fun friend” – or “mom’s wacko friend” if you were say Johanna Mason.

But June and Annabel, they seemed like the type who’d want a baby of their own. And they’d been together for like forever.

In the districts, there were of course only two ways you could have a kid. Cum shot or adoption. But, as Effie’d told him, in the Capitol – things worked differently when it came to fertility and conception. And being in a same-sex relationship with no immediate sperm producer in the household didn’t make it that much harder either. Not if you had money.

People sold their semen for cash in the big city. The hospital even made ads about it, urging people to contribute. Hell, guys like Priapus took pride in having fathered half the nation one cup at a time – to hear him tell it at least. And if you had a few eggs to spare and wanted to trade them in for the latest handbag, you needed only book an appointment.

So if June and Annabel wanted to make an omelette, they had options.

Maybe they can’t have kids.

Annabel’s story earlier. Her struggles with food. Maybe starving herself had done something to her menstrual cycle? He was no expert. Far from it. But he remembered a conversation he overheard at the Hob once. Between old Cray and some other peacekeeper.

“At the end of the day”, the full-fledged bastard said, “what you want is a real skintight lass. The flow doesn’t go over barren land, if you know what I mean?”

As for June … He couldn’t say he knew a lot about the woman. She was no open book. Not with him and especially not lately. If anything, she was the quiet, observing type. A bit like himself, maybe.

The only really private piece of information he had about her came from someone else. Plutarch. Who never knew when to shut up.

Haymitch were out grocery shopping for a very pregnant Effie and ran into him on the way back. The man had just returned after a prolonged stay in District 7. Apparently they were shooting the pilot of some wildlife documentary that the former Head Gamemaker pitched for Capitol TV. The first of 12 planned episodes. One season per district, starting in the vast woodlands with its mountain lions and coyotes and river otters. Haymitch remembered because of how much the whole project would have annoyed Johanna.

“Panem et Circenses”, Plutarch said with a land out like Whatcha gonna do? “We have to find new and exciting ways to entertain the audience. Now that the Hunger Games are a thing of the past.”

As for Effie, and her precarious situation – he knew all about it of course. Just like everyone else in town.

Haymitch, standing there in the heat with his full bags of soy milk and brussels sprouts, brown rice and melting ice cream just wanted to get the hell out of dodge but there was no stopping Plutarch Heavensbee once he got going. That man sure loved the sound of his own voice.

“… and ah, yes the Summers. Good people. All of them. I’m friends with her father”, he said. “Great polo player! A real blue-ribbon champion during his time at the University. Shame what happened to his family! Such a tragedy! They wanted a second child, you see. A boy this time. So badly. And when they were finally blessed with another pregnancy, his wife suffered a late-term miscarriage when June was about 16. Little Otho Summer Jr. Oh! An awful, bloody affair. Then some emergency surgery and … that’s that. No more children. Poor man. Was never the same.”

Complications during pregnancy, childbirth and postpartum were not uncommon back in Twelve. Before the war. Especially among the starving families of the Seam. Thank God they had Sae and Tessa Everdeen but even in their expert hands mothers and babies were lost during Snow’s long reign.

“It’s a gamble at best”, Chaff once said, when they got to talking about it. “Not a month goes by in Eleven without us hearing the hammer blows of a coffin being made. A coffin meant for two.”

Haymitch remembered this one family. A young girl who broke off her engagement after her ma went through a really bloody labor, stretching out over three whole days. In the end, Sae managed to save both mother and child but the damage was already done.

Now, he saw no reason worth shit why you’d ever want to get married and have kids in a place like Twelve in a world like Snow’s. Some agreed with him on that note. Others didn’t. In this young woman’s case there was definitely a “before” and “after”.

Sae even had a name for it.

Tokophobia. Morbid fear of childbirth.

Maybe that was the case with June?

“Would you look at that”, Effie whispered, cheek against Ian’s temple. The words pulled Haymitch out of his depressing thoughts for a second time.

His son and baby mama were admiring Annabel’s cake.

“With a teddy for a candle”, Effie smiled and kissed the top of his head. “Just like Little Bear in the bedtime story we read at night. You remember Little Bear, my darling? But oh, we forgot the matches! You can’t blow the candle out and make a wish if not first we light it. Come baby, let’s set you down for a bit while I go look for them. Want to play with your letter blocks?”

She settled their son on the picnic blanket. The one under the apple tree. Kissed his soft, downy head a second time and turned for the house. Squeezed Annabel’s shoulder in passing when the brunette re-appeared with the plate of cookies and a jug of water and cucumber slices.

Haymitch watched as Effie bounded up the front steps and was gone.

She’s stressed out of her mind.

No question about it. She hid it but he could always tell. Recognized that stiff upper lip from the Games, covered behind bright smiles and weird exclamations like “You two are in for a treat! Crystal chandeliers, platinum doorknobs.”

As if the Games weren’t bad enough. With Haymitch Abernathy on your “team”, Effie had her work cut out for her. Because of him, her attention was constantly split. Pretty much since day one and especially in the last few years prior to Katniss and Peeta’s Games.

Her mind was in a constant state of, “Time to get them both on the train and where’s Haymitch? How many drinks has he had?” or “Let’s get these children ready for their interviews and where’s Haymitch? How drunk is he now?”

Yeah, he was little more than added stress on her shoulders.

Same thing now.

But I’m not drunk today. Haven’t had a drink since last night. What’s she thinking I’m gon’ do? Get wasted right in front of my kids?

He thrust the thought from his mind. He had exactly zero right to be annoyed today.

Instead, his gaze went to Ian sitting by himself on the blanket. Haymitch set his cup on an empty spot on the garden table and turned for June. June and Amy.

“Mind if I take a balloon? For the kid. I don’t know how to work that thing.” He nodded toward the container.

June eyed him with those green orbs, then nodded.

“Sure. Help yourself.”

With no knife at his disposal, June’s killer double knots were a challenge. Ian watched his struggles and each time the branches rustled overhead, a giggle rose from under it.

Haymitch allowed himself a small smile.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Laugh at your old man.”

He worked the knot loose and extricated the balloon from the tree. Orange. Like Effie’s hair. Once upon a long time ago.

“Here. Got something for ya.”

He crouched before his son, keeping a firm hold on the end of the string. But he was a little too quick about it, wobbled and slumped back on his ass. Tiny black dots swam across his field of vision. Like specks of dust from a fire.

Ian’s round gray eyes followed his every move. Forcing his lips upward, Haymitch struggled to regain his balance. Swallowed a flood of saliva against the summersaults his stomach made.

Please. Not here. Not now.

Feeling the cool grass underneath his palm he breathed slowly through his nose. And he was in luck. For once. The nausea subsided. The ringing as well. His vision cleared, leaving him with goose bumps all over and stinging armpits.

With shaky hands he tied the balloon string around Ian’s wrist.

“There you go, sweetheart.”

The boy shook his arm eagerly. Gave a breathy grin when the balloon bobbed.

Haymitch caressed his hair. His chubby cheek. Reached for the silver baby rattle next, a old gift of Annabel’s, and struggled to his feet with the gracefulness of someone twice his age.

The rattle found a home in Amy’s hand. He gave her strawberry hair a soft caress, just like he did Ian. His eyes went to her auntie.

“I’ll get you a balloon too if you want. Or … maybe a coffee?”

The woman drew a deep sigh.

“Fine”, she said, slightly less up in arms.

Back at the table he poured another cup. Added some cream and sugar. Behind him the front door opened. Effie with the matches no doubt. He set the hot fragrant peace offering in June’s hand. Contemplated if he actually remembered all the verses of “Happy Birthday” when his gaze dropped to Ian again.

He had but ten seconds to see it before Effie did.

The sight closed his throat up, like someone actually kept a choke hold on him. His hand flew to his back pocket, confirming what his eyes were already telling him.

The hipflask.

In his son’s hands.

Ian’s chubby baby fingers grazed against the scratched silver surface while he explored the corked up lid with his mouth. Chewing on it like he did everything.

Haymitch’s feet were already moving but it was too late.

“No!” The shriek escaping Effie’s lips made them all start. She was by Ian’s side in a heartbeat. Pulled him from the ground so fast that Haymitch’s knot unravelled and the balloon floated into the sky. Up and gone.

The boy was bawling, startled by his mother’s sudden cry. Effie clutched him to her chest, holding the hipflask a meter away.

“You brought this to the party?” she spat at Haymitch. “How could you? Take this revolting thing away from the children this instant!”

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Cursed Cards - Part 3

So, here is the last part of this...

It was an honour and a pleasure to collaborate with @sauroff on this silly slice of pure happiness.

Thank you for all those who were with me on this ride.

-> Part 1 -> Part 2

Fingon's POV ⬇️

Maedhros' POV ⬇️

Cursed Cards - Part 3

Words: 3,2 k

Warnings: Russingon (still half-cousin incest in canon)

Context: Continuation and final instalment of this!

As promised, Maglor organised a merry get-together soon after. His allegiance to his oldest brother, as it turned out, was only too easily undermined by the chance to kill two birds with one stone.

Hence why he sat, smug and trembling with anticipation, on Fingolfin’s very own armchair and waited for the avalanche of haphazard greetings to ebb off. He was particularly proud to have gotten his whole family – minus his indisposed father – to visit Fingon’s in a post-Christmas massacre of warmed-up leftovers and piping hot gossip.

“Oh, mum,” Fingon squeaked upon seeing the picture he had entrusted to his mother in confidence prominently displayed on the dining room table. “Russo won’t like it.”

He was right; Maedhros blanched at the sight and backed away into Caranthir to bar his way and – if possible – his line of sight on the offending cliché.

“But…” Anairë started, seeking Nerdanel’s gaze and then whirling around to stare at Maglor who – in turn – only grinned and shrugged lightly.

Ever the showman, the second-born son of the suspicious mother of seven who was now also narrowing her eyes at him had evidently not been able to resist a dramatic reveal of the photograph he had secured through charm and graceful nagging.

“It’s so nice that you and the children could come,” Anairë chirped; she didn’t comment on Fëanor’s absence though and waved Nerdanel into her living room enthusiastically.

“It was ever so good of you to invite us,” Nerdanel replied in the same cheerful tone. “Few people are willing nowadays to put up with all seven of my bra…erm, sons.” She winked.

“You’re family after all,” the other woman said good-humouredly and handed Nerdanel an elegant glass filled with a bubbly, sweet-smelling cocktail. “My husband’s latest concoction,” she explained with a fond smile thrown at the man standing in a corner as if he was surrounded by rabid dogs.

“What is he up to?” Nerdanel muttered under her breath as her eyes were inexorably drawn back to Maglor; she knew her children well and could always tell when one of them was about to cause a ruckus. “That smile never bodes well.”

“Oh Nelyo, brother mine,” Maglor called in a singsong voice across the room when he realised that he had to act quickly before his mother could somehow foil his great master plan. “Come over here; I have a gift for you, my dearest sibling.”

Maedhros flinched violently; being dubbed Maglor’s favourite brother always meant that one was his next victim. A quick glance at the others only confirmed this: Moryo was backing away slowly while Tyelko drew nearer with a bloodthirsty smile.

“You’re done,” one of the twins hooted and then both went to perch on the armrests of Maglor’s throne to be certain they’d have front-row seats to whatever bloodbath was about to take place.

“What is going on?” Turgon – still hovering by the door as if ready to take off at the drop of a hat – asked warily. “’Rissë?”

“Hey! I’ve got nothing to do with this, I think, do I?” She turned to her mother who merely gave her an encouraging, indulgent smile.

Anairë would not have said so out loud, but she did enjoy the tremulous anticipation in the room.

“Ah, you do me wrong and wound me deeply,” Maglor exclaimed and put the back of his hand to his brow in a gesture of mental torment. “It is a token of my love and respect that I am about to hand over to my esteemed older brother.”

As the last notes of his dramatic speech echoed in the sudden silence, he whipped out a little piece of paper and extended it to Maedhros who was advancing cautiously towards that outstretched hand.

If Maglor had expected amusement or even mockery from him, he was sorely disappointed though for Maedhros’ eyes grew round and glassy with some deep, unspoken emotion.

“What is it?” Fingon stepped up behind him; unlike his boyfriend, he immediately broke into merry chuckles. “Oh yes, I remember that one. Don’t be fooled by the picture, Argon is a biter and my sister is actually having the time of her life.”

Maedhros’ eyes flitted over to Aredhel who had schooled her face into a mien of perfectly innocent maidenhood.

“Finno, my love,” he then whispered, “why did you not try to restrain your siblings? I dare say Turgon was not enjoying himself!”

Fingon’s face scrunched up in concentration as he tried to cast his mind back to the exact moment that picture had been taken; he remembered his mother’s sundress and the smell of the forest as if it had been yesterday, but other details were slower in returning to him.

“I must have seen something,” he muttered, gazing into his own eyes – huge in a face he barely recognised as his – as if to find the truth in their shining febrility.

“It was that boy,” Turgon grunted acidly from his vantage point. “Tallish kid, kept mostly to himself…We all saw you stealing glances at him whenever you got the chance. You are not discreet, Fin.”

A pensive, shrewd light came into his eyes as his own sharp mind raced back through time.

“Wait a minute,” he whispered and stepped closer to the group huddled around a smirking Maglor and looked from Fingon to Maedhros meditatively.

“I don’t remember,” Argon said quickly; he didn’t like the way his two older brothers were staring at each other intensely. Whatever mischief they had buried in the past, he wanted no part in it.

“’Rissë had taken away Argon’s bow and they were fighting,” Fingon started to reconstruct the scene in the picture. “I can hear their laughter and the threatening clacking of their teeth in my mind.”

His mind was piecing together the fragments of memory diluted and washed away in the ocean of time and his brow creased in concentration; this had been an important summer for him, he knew, but the specifics escaped his fumbling brain stubbornly.

“I was elbowed by that creature pretending to be our sister,” Turgon supplied readily, tapping his finger at his own pained face in the photo. “And you were staring at that other kid. I remember thinking that he was a most unfortunate-looking creature on account of his complexion. He was also…”

“Covered in kids,” Fingon finished his sentence in a hiss. “He was a rare sight because he was running after other kids all the time. Did he work there?”

“No,” Maglor cut in with a feline grin. “He was the oldest of 7. His complexion is still deplorable, as is his fashion sense.”

Ever since getting the picture, he had talked to both his own mother and Anairë in search of the reason for Fingon’s obvious distractedness. Moreover, he had stared at it in private as well, trying to remember these children.

The crux of the matter had finally come to him in a dream; he had at least seen Fingon before, usually standing at the edge of his field of vision whenever Maedhros had come to hound him about one thing or the other.

“What?” Fingon exclaimed in alarm and amazement.

“Tall, skinny dude, copper-haired, milk-skinned, always dragging around at least one feral youngster, ring any bells?” Maglor enumerated complacently, ticking off his arguments on his fingers. “The red shirts, the haunted look in his eyes, the overabundance of clinking jewellery he didn’t take care of half as well as he should have? No? Nothing?”

Fingon turned his face up to Maedhros, his eyes huge and wet. “You…YOU? My first real crush? My first heartbreak?”

As his eyes closed in slow-motion, everything rushed back like a deluge of colour and sound.

“Of course,” he croaked. “I had never seen anyone half as beautiful; you were the very picture of poise and consummate grace.”

Maedhros guffawed, thus breaking the spell of Fingon’s tender recollections.

“I remember this day as well,” he admitted. “I was everything but graceful.” He shot a withering stare at his youngest brothers and – touching his fingertips to Fingon’s hip as if to make sure he was really there – he gave a deep, heartfelt sigh of embarrassment.

“Go on, dear,” Anairë prompted; after all the sleuthing she had done with Maglor, she couldn’t deny that she was curious as to how that scene she and her husband had laughed about privately many a time over the years had looked like from the other side. “Tell us!”

Shoulders slumping in defeat, Maedhros banned his brothers from Maglor’s armchair and sat down heavily himself.

“It was family day, as we have established,” he then started narrating in a strained voice, “and I had lost the twins. In my defence, I had managed to get all the others somewhat clean and ready, but the twins were nowhere to be found. Your kind nature deceives you, Finno my love, for I was running around like a headless chicken – sweating, dishevelled, and blotchy with stress – in search of that demon spawn, forgive me, mother.”

He shot a pleading, apologetic look at Nerdanel and passed a pale hand over his gorgeous face at the memory of his helpless turmoil.

“My father even reprimanded me later for looking so badly put together,” Maedhros went on, seeking his mother’s eyes for confirmation.

“We’re sorry, Nelyo,” the twins chimed unisono. “We were still young and thought it was funny.”

“You’d still think it funny,” Maglor murmured under his voice but didn’t interrupt his eldest brother in his reminiscence of the chaotic past.

Fingon’s eyes were wide and open as he took in the man he loved and his wicked brothers arrayed around him like guardian angels or hungry wolf pups.

“No wonder you never noticed me,” he joked in what he wanted to be a light tone, but a sliver of pain still stabbed through the airy cloth of his melodious voice.

“Oh,” Maedhros groaned, “I did.”

“You did?” Fingon almost yelled, elbowing Celegorm out of the way – a perfect imitation of his sister’s childhood crime – to kneel by Maedhros’ feet and look up at him, spellbound by the confessions that might well heal his heart.

“Of course I did,” Maedhros laughed, a little strained. “You hung around a lot, you know? Thrice I wanted to go talk to you.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“The first time, as I had brushed my hair and tucked my shirt into my shorts to look less like the gangly ghost I apparently was, Tyelko decided to throw Moryo’s best clothes into the lake.” Maedhros grimaced.

“Oh…” Fingon could not see why that would have kept Maedhros from pursuing his own plans.

“I was wearing said clothes when they took their fatal dip,” Caranthir supplied in a dangerously flat voice.

Nerdanel sucked her teeth disapprovingly at that; she then nodded at her oldest to go on ratting his brothers out.

“You were bullied a tad that summer, I remember…” Maglor interjected in mellow accents of casual empathy.

“Thank you for reminding me, yes,” Maedhros stage-whispered and jabbed his long, narrow index into his brother’s ribs with punitive force. “I was led to believe that my looks were cause for considerable distress amongst my fellow campers; hence why I endeavoured earnestly to present myself in a soigné fashion. Not that I could hold up that state of neatness for any prolonged period of time, thanks to some people in this very room.”

“The next time,” he then returned resolutely to his tale of woe, “this one screamed bloody murder. Turns out, his harp string had snapped, and he was out of new ones. That was all. I raced across the compound in a blind panic to find that ass lamenting one of five instruments he had brought.” Another vicious poke followed which Maglor accepted magnanimously.

“In the end,” the so-blighted musician then added his own dramatic conclusion to his part in this sordid recounting, “I just played on the strings left to me.”

Fingon was enthralled by the developments and revelations unfurling before him; he barely dared to breathe for fear of disrupting the magic.

“After thus being called names by other campers all summer long,” Maedhros picked up his tale again when Maglor had finished his aside, “I understandably took special pains to look as nice as I could in hopes of making a new friend. And then there was a fire in Curvo’s hall.”

“Good dramatic pacing,” Maglor praised under his breath.

“It was,” Maedhros continued in an imitation of old taletellers’ ominous voices, “Curvo’s fire. He had set his own building aflame.”

“Oh no,” Fingon squeaked.

“What?” Nerdanel expostulated.

“Ooops,” Curufin breathed and immediately started mobilising his puppy eyes to disarm his mother’s ire.

“By the time family day rolled around, I had given up on making new friends,” Maedhros finished and bowed his head to his mother. “I commend you, mother, for I spent that summer dirty, unkempt, and constantly miserable on account of those creatures you claim as your progeny.”

Nerdanel gave a little chuckle and stepped forward to cup his flaming cheek lovingly. “You’ve done well, my beautiful boy,” she whispered as she kissed the top of his head, “and both your father and I are so thankful to you.”

Maedhros’ eyes returned to the photograph in his lap and his tense mien relaxed into boundless fondness.

“I shall cherish this,” he sighed, “thank you Káno for getting it.”

“Auntie and I have done our best.” Maglor crooned, basking in his victory.

“Auntie?” several people exclaimed.

“My brother’s mother-in-law,” Maglor smiled suavely, “is almost my auntie, no?”

“A pleasure, I am sure,” Anairë reassured him, ignoring the choked sputter coming from her husband’s fortification in the far corner. If Fingolfin decided to retreat even further, he’d end up stuck behind the armoire, she was quite sure, but there were too many children in the room for her to worry about her spouse on top of everything.

“I am sorry that we didn’t get to be friends that summer,” Maedhros then said softly to Fingon. “I am now sure that we would have gotten along splendidly.”

He got up and pulled his beloved to his feet as well.

“You were so very handsome too,” he breathed into Fingon’s ear, darkened with embarrassment and emotion. “I quite enjoyed your joyful attire and bright smile. I still do. The crocs are a very nice touch, I dare say!”

Fingon groaned and tried to snatch the picture out of Maedhros’ hands; unfortunately, his own attempts at petty thievery had schooled and honed Maedhros’ skills and he turned around in a flash of copper and red.

Burying his face in that broad, strong back he had seen once too often during that accursed summer, Fingon let the shame wash over him. Not only had Turgon – and probably Aredhel – been aware of his crush, but it had also been revealed tonight that he had inadvertently ended up dating the very same boy he had not even dared approach back then.

"Was I very foolish? Following you around like a lost pup?” he mumbled into the thick, fragrant sweater of his one true love.

“Not at all,” Maedhros swore, his eyes drinking in every detail of the photograph still. “You were tantalisingly out of reach.”

He felt a mix of humility and deep tenderness at the sight of that young boy, staring wistfully into the distance; those expressive eyes and the curve of that sensual mouth – quick to smile and delicious to kiss – were as familiar as his own face to him and yet, this photograph seemed an invaluable treasure, a slice of an irretrievable past, which he’d honour and guard forever.

“I should have known,” Fingon groaned.

“I…did not make the connection either,” Maedhros admitted, “until I saw the picture and it all came back to me.”

Louder then, he called Maglor out for staging a whole production and exposing them to ridicule and familial jeering.

“It would have been less funny if we couldn’t witness the moment the extent of your combined idiocy dawns on you,” Maglor replied, unabashed and not in the least contrite.

“We’re the prisoners of these creatures,” Maedhros sighed. “Until my dying day, I shall keep, defend, and amuse them, it seems.”

“You and me both,” Fingon said gently, slinging his strong arms around Maedhros’ waist and giving him a comforting, strengthening squeeze.

“Actually,” Caranthir said after clearing his throat and exchanging a cold, efficient gaze with Turgon, “we have another Christmas gift for you.”

Wary, Maedhros and Fingon spun around, still holding on to each other tightly, to face the catalysts of chaos and mayhem that were their collective siblings.

“As we have ruined Christmas,” Celegorm jumped in.

“And Summer Camp,” Aredhel chirped.

“Family Day,” Argon muttered.

“Several dates,” Curufin added with a perfect imitation of repentant innocence.

“Most of your carefree days, I admit,” Maglor cut in; he was an accomplished, compelling orator and loved to hear himself sway an audience. “We thought we’d make it up to you.”

“Also, nobody really wants to see you two in shorts ever again,” Turgon commented, sharp-tongued but not without affection.

An envelope was handed to Maedhros who opened it with trembling fingers and gasped.

“Having that many siblings has its perks,” Maglor babbled with uncontained enthusiasm. “It means that we could all chip in and buy you a truly nice holiday to a destination far, far away. A week at the beach, without any of us, doesn’t that sound nice?”

Spluttering, Maedhros burst into laughter as he and Fingon were overwhelmed with frantic hugs and sloppy kisses from their siblings.

“Happy Holidays!”

“You deserve it!”

“Ey,” Aredhel smirked, “we do like you two fools, you know that, right?”

“Don’t miss us too much,” Maglor grinned as he bathed in the light of his brother’s boundless joy. “You’ve done much for us, Nelyo, and we are aware of it. Take this with our compliments; dive into your memories in the privacy of a beach cabana or so.”

“Wear those terrible clothes where nobody can connect you to us,” Caranthir hissed, reaping an approving nod from Turgon.

“That’s incredible, thanks gang!” Fingon was the first to thaw out of his shock; he had never resented his siblings for their natures and needs and so, he was deeply touched by their secret collaboration with his in-laws to come up with such a beautiful gift.

Maedhros’ arms were solid and warm around his shoulders, and he could barely wait to feel them skin-on-skin in the blazing sun of a tropical island while they swam in a deep, blue ocean.

It would be wonderful, he was sure.

“Hmmm, what a surprise,” Maedhros whispered into his ear; he was flushed with wonder and happiness and looked so much more like the boy Fingon only dimly remembered. Past, present, and future blended into a kaleidoscope of red and blue, of copper and black, of marble and ebony and Fingon was afraid he’d burst if he tried to contain the sheer beatitude thrumming in his chest.

“We’ll miss them though, won’t we?” he asked under his breath.

“Just a little,” Maedhros replied and kissed his brow in a rare moment of impulsive tenderness that promptly elicited hoots and groans from the brood of their younger, truly childish siblings.

“Son,” Nerdanel interrupted the brouhaha of thanks and jibes, “send us some pictures, yes? For the next Christmas!”

So, that was that! Thank you for indulging me and make sure to show @sauroff your love and appreciation.

Best wishes for the end of 2022 and - of course - for 2023 as well!

Lots of love!

[annonniiiiieeeee]

We already know what Usagi’s reaction was to how tiny baby turtles are, but what about everyone else’s? Does Splinter have baby pictures he shows to embarrass his sons?

They had just brought Kaida home a month ago. Only a month ago. And Yet their family was already coming over to meet her. Granted they had done the same thing when Jotaro and the twins were born, heck there had been less time after they were born, but Kaida was different. Kaida fit in the palm of his hand, and Usagi was freaking out.

He was so scared. They could lose her so easily.

And now their family was coming over and wanted to see her. They would want to hold her! His little girl that fit in the palm of his hand was about to be passed around their family. What if they dropped her?

Leo had tried to convince him it would be okay. After all he and his siblings were raised in a literally sewer with only one parent between the four of them and they turned out just fine. All fingers, toes , and shells still attached.

On some level Usagi knew he was being ridiculous. Leo was right, he and his siblings were fine. But it didn’t completely settle his worries.

Their family had been more than understanding about the whole thing. Giving Usagi time with just his family. Allowing Leo and him to get used to having four kids in the house. Yet it had been a month and they had four cooing uncles, three cheek pinching aunts, two excited grandpas, and one adopted son all coming over at lunch time.

To be fair Casey had already come over. He was one of their kids, even if he was fully grown. Casey adored his younger sibling and they returned his adoration ten fold. There was no way Usagi was keeping Casey from meeting his new little sister. The boy had come over after a week of them settling in. (The same amount of time they waited before letting people see Jotaro) he had been so excited to meet her only to freeze the moment he laid eyes on her.

Apparently, Casey had never seen a baby turtle either.

He proceeded to freak out about her size, all the while exasperating Leo and validating Usagi. The boy had visited many times since to play with the other kids, each time cooing over how small she is. The boy was even to scared to pick her up!

Needless to say Casey’s reaction did not fill Usagi with confidence about having more people around his youngest. She was just so small. Leo claims to have been the same size but how? How had Splinter kept four of these little ones alive without having a heart attack?

Leo knocked on the door giving his presence away to Usagi. Usagi sat on their bed looking into Kaida’s bassinet. Their daughter laid there fast asleep. ”Alright we’ve got one three and a half year old dressed and ready for company. Two about to be two year olds looking adorable as always. One month year old who I’m guessing is still fast asleep. And-“ he plopped himself onto the bed next to Usagi. “My handsome husband.” He placed a kiss on Usagi’s cheek while wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “You okay?” Leo asked in a much softer voice. He had been quite all though his speech as he didn’t want to wake Kaida but now the tone was gentler as he checked in on his husband.

Usagi let out a sigh. “I still think she’s to small for this.” He said as he turned to face his husband.

Leo let out his own sigh. This was a common argument one he had let Usagi win for a month now. But their family wanted to see their newest member, and see the other kids. He knew Jotaro and the twins had been missing their aunts, uncles, and grandpas. He knew their family missed them to. Yet he never wanted Usagi to feel silly for his fears about their kids. He was right Kaida was much smaller then any of their other kids had been, but she was a healthy size for a turtle. He understood his husbands worry but he also didn’t want to be hovering over their youngest for the rest of her life.

“You trust me, right Usa-chan?” Leo knew the answer.

Usagi grabbed his hand locking their fingers. “With my whole heart.” He looked Leo in the eyes. He knew Leo never doubted his faith in him, it was just the way they encouraged each other to take risks sometimes.

Leo smiled warmly at him tilting his head so that their foreheads touched. “Then believe me when I say today will be fine. Kaida is strong, she our daughter, and our family would never hurt her.”

Usagi let out a breath relaxing into his husband. “I know. I just can’t help myself sometimes.”

Leo smiled back at him. “I thought I was the worrier in this relationship. What are you doing taking my spot.” He got what he wanted which was Usagi’s laughter at the comment.

“Daddy.” Leo turned away from Usagi and Usagi leaned around him to see their child. Or children as all three stood in the door way. Jotaro was in the middle holding on to Sakura’s right hand and Ume’s left. Leo was right they were all dressed and ready for company and looking adorable. Jotaro had on a little blue hoodie that was a smidge to big for him and grey pants. Sakura had on a white sundress with cherry blossoms all over it paired with a pink sweater on top. Ume had on a pair of orange overalls with white apricot blossoms all over it with a white shirt on underneath it.  Leo had done a great job picking out their outfits for today.

“Hey kiddos. You guys excited to see everyone?” Leo said turning to face the rest of his children. He opened his arms up in invitation and the kids quickly ran over to the bed. Sakura ran to Leo and Ume ran to Usagi both picked up their daughters sitting them on their laps. Jotaro pushed himself up into the bed next to Leo and stood up. He placed his little hands on Leo’s shoulder and peered into his littlest sisters bassinet. He was enamored with her small size.

Sakura snuggled into Leo’s arms and nodded her head. “Ya! Is Aun’ie Ap’il coming?” She asked hoping for her favorite aunt to be present.

Leo chickened holding his daughter close. “You know it.”

Ume snuggled into Usagi grabbing hold of his haroi and tugging a little to get his attention. He looked down at the little girl resting her head against his chest. “Ki’sune?” She whispered out checking on the status of her favorite aunt as well.

Usagi smiled and kissed her in the top of her head. “She wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He whispered to his daughter. He knew how much his older children were missing their extended family. It was the main reason he had agreed to letting people over. He turned his eyes back to little Kaida still sound asleep in her bassinet. He prayed today went well. He wanted their family to be able to come over at anytime, yet if this went poorly he knew he would hide his family away again. They were just so precious to him, he wouldn’t let anyone hurt them.

Leo’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out with a smile. “It would seem that they are here a little early. What do you say we go greet our guest.” His statement was met by cheers as the children scrambled off of the bed and took off towards the main room. Leo chuckled as he watched the three race out of the room. He then turned to his husband. “Are you ready to join us or do you need some more time alone with Kaida-chan?” The question was gently and sincere. He knew how stressed Usagi was about today he wanted to give his husband the space necessary to prepare himself. Though he knew that time had just been drastically shortened by the early arrival of their family, he didn’t blame them, they were all excited to met Kaida after all.

Usagi breathed in deeply. He was so grateful he had an understanding and supportive husband but if he didn’t go with Leo now he didn’t think him or Kaida would be leaving this room today. He breathed out before smiling at Leo. “I’m ready.”

Leo returned the smile. He waited for Usagi to scoop their youngest out of her bassinet before taking his free hand. The two of them made their way to the living room where they had three impatient toddler huddled around the front door. Leo laughed at them, he squeezed Usagi’s hand and then moved to the door. He corralled the children away from the door directing them over to Usagi before he opened the door and was engulfed in a hug by his big brother.

Raph picked him up and spun him around. “It’s been to long Leo.” He said as he let go of his brother. Leo smiled up at his big brother but before he could respond they both heard the sound of little feet running towards them.

“Uncle ‘aph” Jotaro cried launching himself at his favorite uncle. Raph scooped the kid up with a cheer bring him close for cuddles.

“Where’s my goddaughter?” April called out as she entered the home. Sakura quickly ran to her aunt. April fell to her knees to scoop the sweet girl up into her arms. “Oh I’ve missed you. You’ve gotten so big.

“April you’re blocking the doorway.” Donnie complained as he stepped over April and his niece. His arms were full of presents for the couple and their children.

“Dontron you didn’t have to bring anything.” Leo said rushing forward to help his twin.

“I know. He’s making the rest of us look bad.” Gen remarked shuffling around April and Sakura. Kitsune followed behind him. Ume squealed and rushed her aunt. Kitsune fell to her knees to greet the girl but as soon as the girl was securely in her arms Gen scooped them both up and moved them out of the way of the door.

Mikey, Cassie, Casey, Draxum, the goyles, and Splinter all found their way in as well. Splinter made a bee line for Usagi. “Yes it’s so good to see everyone but tell me where it my newest granddaughter.” He said stopping in front of Usagi. He had with him a bag which Usagi assumed were gifts for their children.

He held his hands out. Kaida was cupped in the palm of his hands blinking sleepily at the world around her all of the noise finally waking her from her nap. Splinter’s eyes widened as he took in the small turtle. She looked so much like her dad. He raised a hand and gently rubbed a finger against her cheek cooing at her. She let out a little chirp rubbing her cheek against his finger.

“Awww. Dad were we really that small at some point?” Mikey asked leaning over his father’s shoulder to see his newest niece.

“Oh yes. I brought picture in case you might want to see.” Splinter responded as he reached into his bag and pulled out a collection of baby photos from his boys past.

“Wait we were so cute!” Mikey called looking at the book in his father’s hands. Usagi leaned forward so he could see the book as well. There was his husband and his brothers all curled together and all the size of their father’s palm. Leo was right they were all that little.

“Orange can you go help your brothers. I think Purple has more gifts than expected.” Splinter asked Mikey who quickly moved to help out his older brothers. Once he was gone Splinter looked up at Usagi. “Leonardo told me about your fears and worries for Kaida. I thought it might help to know that your not alone. I was terrified of how small my boys were and I had no idea how big or fast they would grow. I learned everything on the fly and while I was not a perfect father.” Splinter paused looking down at the images in his book. He took in a deep breath. It was hard to admit how he had failed his sons. “My boys still turned out better then I could have ever hoped.” He looked over his shoulders at where his sons were bickering over Donnie’s gifts or spoiling the older grandchildren. “I just want you to know that it’s okay to be worried but you are already a better father to your children than I was and you have my Blue as your partner. You will not fail her or any of your other children.”

Usagi had tears in his eyes as his father-in-laws speech. “Thank you Splinter-sama.” He said bowing low to his father-in-law.

“Don’t mention it. And if you ever feel overwhelmed remember I’m a much better grandfather than I was a father. I have plenty of experience dealing with small mischievous turtles.” Splinter reassured as he closed the picture book for now and reached back out to rub Kaida’s cheek.

They were peaceful for a moment before Splinter broke the peace. “Try not to worry to much now. You’ll need it for later when she learns how to climb.”

Usagi’s brain stoped working for a moment. “WHEN SHE LEARNS HOW TO WHAT!”

[daliyla]

They tell the story of an incredibly talented boy who used to play piano- you might wish to know if they're right.

See, Regulus was a boy who played piano, yes, but talent? Oh no. He didn't have a ounce of talent in his entire body, cause he never believed in it. He believed in hard work, in labor, in exercise, and then results. He believed in this, cause this was everything they taught him.

So talent... No. Talent didn't exist. Talent was simply something lazy people created to justify their laziness.

But oh, listening to him, you couldn't help but thinking- he must be so talented! A gifted kid!

Ah yeah, he was a kid when he started to play, and he was a kid when he won his first competition- but talent? No, he didn't win thanks to talent, he won thanks to hours and hours of labor- and punishments if he wasn't working enough.

Piano was his entire life. He was born for that. He was living and breathing to be a fucking winner.

Until, well, something else hit him with such a strength he couldn't help but being overwhelmed by it. When you pass your entire life focused on a thing, one single thing, the first novelty can hit you like a slap on your face.

See, he didn't have many friends, or we could say he didn't have friends at all. He was in a good relations with a couple of classmates, but nothing more. The only person he could really call friend was a girl named Pandora, and he couldn't exactly explain why, it just happened; with her, he was friendly her brother, Evan, who followed his twin almost everywhere, and Barty, Evan's best friend, who was just happy to meet new rich young boys to corrupt, his words.

But, before them, the only person Regulus could've really called a friend was his big brother Sirius, who studied violin for years before quitting, in every sense: he left their house, their family, everything- but he kept Regulus' phone number.

That was the only secret Regulus had with his mother- his big brother.

So, when Regulus was seventeen, his brother's nineteenth birthday came and with it the invitation to a party, a sodding party.

The truth is, Regulus used to hate parties and such.

The truth is, Regulus was missing his brother, and so he went.

He went, in secret, and bought him a gift, and hugged him, and oh, how he had missed Sirius.

But then- it was a party, so Sirius was soon captured by the mass of people who came there to celebrate him, and in the end Regulus was alone, which he didn't mind, he was used to it. He sat on the balcony, suffocated by the heat of all those damn people.

And then... And then the miracle happened. And then a joyful voice greethed him.

"Hi, mate! You're Sirius' brother, aren't ya?"

And then Regulus discovered what love was.

James was Sirius' best friend, and he was warm, so very warm. His smile was a dusk and his laugh a symphony whose notes Regulus didn't know, but which he desperately wanted to play. His hair were a complete mess of brown curls and his eyes were so gentle and yet so shining, like he wanted to conquer the world just to have the opportunity to light it up.

That night Regulus learned what it was to desire so viscerally he was sickened by it. He learned what it was to sit next to the sun and let him burn you. He learned what it was to fall in love with something other than his music. He learned what was the inspiration behind all those love songs.

After that night, James and he exchanged numbers and began to chat, and suddenly the speed Regulus' finger acquired in all those years of piano were so useful to reply to James' messages.

In a rush Regulus didn't know was possible, he found something to love as passionately as he loved his piano. He loved all those silly photos James sent him, he loved all those sudden thoughts James texted him out of blue, he loved the smiles that James made bloom on his lips so naturally.

Before he knew it, he started to snuck out in the middle of the night to meet with James, or he secretly let James in his bedroom. Before he knew it, James was his first kiss, first time, first love. Before he knew it, his lips discovered how to bite without hurting- tasting without devouring-, his skin discovered what it was to be touched by someone else's hands- kindly or fervently-, his nails discovered a new function- not only caress the piano keys, but also scratch James' back and cling to his shoulders.

It was their secret, and for all the times Regulus showed himself on a stage, he didn't mind staying hidden for once.

Yet, his love for piano was consuming him. Every day, all day, practises and practises and practises, and punishments if they were not enough.

Soon, really soon, James started to be worried. He listened to Regulus' muffled cries, to his mental breakdowns when he thought he wasn't good enough. He saw his scars, his bruises, and he kissed them, and kissed them, and kissed them.

Regulus loved his piano, he really did, purely and sincerely. He loved losing himself in the notes and the melodies, and creating something beautiful with his fingertips.

Still, that love was consuming him.

Regulus used to think everyone had a certain amount of love inside themself, a finite amount, and they spread it among the thing and people they love. He thought that all his love was devoted to piano, or most of it, cause a part would have always been for Sirius, who had a fixed place in his heart. And still he found himself loving James so easily and so strongly he coudn't explain it. How could he claim to love his music, when such a huge amount of his love was devoted to that boy?

"Love" James whispered to him one night, stroking his cheeks gently. They were laying in Regulus' bed, under sheets dampt with sweats. It was the end of the summer, and Regulus was feeling it it like the end of his life, or at least a huge part of it "you're so hard on yourself. I wish you could look at you and see what I see when I see you"

"I'm simply honest"

"Your mother's words are hanging over your head like Damocles' sword"

Regulus smiled softly and James put his fingertips on his lips, trying to capture that frail smile.

"I shouldn't have taught you that story"

"I love when you tell me stories"

"I know. That's why I tell them"

James' finger found their way to Regulus' eye socket. The rings under his eyes were getting worst.

"You're not sleeping well"

"I never do"

"It's getting worst"

"I... I'm just a bit stressed for the next competition"

"That's not stress. You're killing yourself"

"I'm not"

"Take a break. Tomorrow my friends and I are going to the beach. Sirius will be there too. Come with us. We could tell him about us, or don't, as you want, but please, take a fucking break"

"I can't"

"You need to"

"I can't! The next contest is close and..."

"Fuck the fucking contest! You've won a million of fucking contests, you're amazing, love, but you're burning yourself"

"Like Icarus" Regulus mumbled, stroking James' hair "he flew too close to the sun"

"Please don't. Please. If not for you, do it for me. Don't fall. Stay with me. Come with me"

"I've always saw you as the sun" Regulus mumbled. He was so tired. Could he really... Go? "So warm. So bright. Untouchable"

James took his hand "I'm not the sun. I'm here. I'm James. I'm yours. Please, be mine. Please"

"I can't. I really can't. That's everything I've always been. I've always been this. Without my piano, I don't know what I am"

"Sirius started playing again, you know?"

"What?"

"He's playing again his violin. He... He wasn't sure, but he loved it, and even though he hated all those competitions and pressures, his love for music hasn't faded" James kissed his forehead "you can love something without devoting you to it entirely, babe. You can be a pianist without consuming you"

"Sirius is playing again?"

"Yes"

Regulus looked at James' eyes, feeling on the edge of tears. He didn't know why, but the idea of his brother playing his violin was making him so emotional. It felt like a childhood memory. It felt like a home he thought he had lost.

"I want to play with him" Regulus mumbled, and he meant so, so many things.

"You can, love. You can. Come with me. You're eighteen now. That witch can't keep you from happiness. You can play with your brother again"

Regulus nodded. Tears fell down his cheeks "I will"

James started crying and hugged him.

So, Regulus started a new life. He went to live at James' house, with his parents and Sirius; he played with Sirius at least one evening each week, much to the amusement of James' parents, Effie and Monty, truly lovely people; he started working at a small nightclub, where he played piano for the clients, and James always came to pick him up with his scooter. He kept in touch with his old friends, and made new ones. He had his own room, but he passed most of the nights in James'; he was pretty sure Effie and Monty knew, and they didn't mind, but Sirius was still a bit jealous of his little brother.

Sure, it wasn't easy. There were days in which Regulus felt like a disappointment, like a complete failure, and he didn't feel like going out of bed at all, and Sirius had to lay next to him and tell him how proud he was of him- and still often it wasn't enough.

Yet, with psychological help and all the support of his loved ones, he was making it.

They tell the story of an incredibly talented boy who used to play piano and then, suddently, he ran away from home and disappeared from the scene- and they tell so many stories about so many people that this one has probably been forgotten by everyone at this point.

Still, pay attention when you're walking through the street. You may hear somewhere the sound of a piano, a quiet music played so masterfully that the player must be a really talented kid- even if he would protest with such a definition; a music played with so, so much love you couldn't help but stop to listen to it more carefully.

[hana-akari]

@thetoaddaddy continued [X]

Sakura may complain a bit over the size of her stomach but truly, she was happy.

Shortly after she found out she was pregnant, Jiraiya proposed to her, and soon after that, they were married. It was a modest sized wedding with just their closest friends and her parents. It was a memory Sakura was going to keep with her forever. In their new home, she had hung up their wedding photos, and ultrasound scans. They had to get a much bigger place for their growing family. Luckily, her parents had housing that they could use. It was very suited for them if they decided to have more kids after this one. Currently, they are having a daughter together. A little girl. Sakura could tell Jiraiya was pretty thrilled about the news, not that he would have minded a son, just something told her he was really hoping for a girl. She could already tell he was going to spoil their daughter like a princess. The baby wasn’t even born yet and she had so many clothes and toys, the best crib money could buy. Between Jiraiya and her parents, their daughter was set. 

Before she got too big, Sakura spent a lot of her free time setting up the baby’s room. Painting up the walls with pretty colors and paintings. Making sure everything was perfect before asking Jiraiya to do all of the heavy lifting. Bringing the crib, rocking chair, and small dresser into the room. Their daughter’s clothes were folded and put away and the toys were neatly placed around the room. Sakura was pretty pleased with herself at the end result. The room was completely ready for their little one when she came. 

Unfortunately, that meant now she had nothing to occupy her time with. Sakura was forced on maternity leave nearly midway through her pregnancy. Everyone insists she just takes it easy, but Sakura was just terrible at doing that. Though once she got bigger, she could see why everyone insisted that. Her large belly slowed her down quite a bit. She got so tired easily. Sakura was stuck between a cycle of naps, odd cravings, back and hip pain, and being overly emotional. That last one left her feeling so silly. She would burst into tears over the dumbest things and end up crying against Jiraiya, which he never complained once about. He didn’t even complain when she made him get up in the middle of the night to get her some odd food her body was demanding she eat. He really was the perfect husband. Sakura felt so overly lucky to have him.

Sakura knew Jiraiya was probably busy in his office working on his next novel, but she was lonely, sore, and bored. The baby had been kicking her in the ribs for most of the day. So she decided to check up on him, and bother him a little. Jiraiya didn’t seem to mind at all, he put down his pen and walked over to greet her. She wrapped her arms around him as he pressed a hand on her very large stomach. It was easy to feel how active the baby was inside her,

“You have no idea how many people ask if I’m carrying twins and then get surprised when I tell them it’s only one… Partly my fault too, I had a fat head as a baby. Which is going to be a joy to push out in a couple months.” Sakura whined dramatically. Despite that, she still wanted to do a home birth like her mom did with her. She already decided on Tsunade helping. She was their closest friend and an amazingly talented medic,

“Our little girl is going to be the cutest! I’m probably going to want another after seeing her for the first time!” Even with all the drawbacks of pregnancy, “Just not super right away.” She softly laughed, looking up at him with a smile,

“How is your book coming along? I came to check on you. I accidentally fell asleep on the couch doing laundry earlier…” Sakura blushed a bit, “It really amazes me how quickly I get sleepy sometimes. I woke up and wanted to see you.” Even though he was working from home, she always acted like she hadn’t seen him in ages.

[fcatton]

** IMPORTANT INFO RE: FELIX CATTON

a study in. lifestyle of the rich and the famous, little lord, bleeding gold, doomed by the narrative, naive to a fault, falling victim, y2k, closeted royalty, family comes first

full name. felix james catton also known as. fee, catton (by his water polo mates), date of birth. canon - 08/20/1986 gen z au - 08/20/2000 zodiac. leo sun / scorpio moon / leo rising gender. male pronouns. he / him romantic orientation. homoromantic sexual orientation. homosexual occupation. influencer / socialite species. human birthplace. london, uk current home. london, uk nationality. british ethnicity. just another dumbass white boy language(s). english parents. lord james catton, lady elspeth catton siblings. twin sister - venetia catton other family members. farleigh start - cousin significant other + children.  verse dependent faceclaim. jacob elordi hair. brown + short eyes. brown height. 6 ft 5 in build. muscular dominant hand. right scars. there are scars inside his mouth from swallowing cyanide, a scar on his lip from a broken bottle, a scar covered by a tattoo on his right side tattoo. a cluster of stars that matches the family crest on his left hand (mirrored on venetia's left hand), angel wings between his shoulder blades, carpe diem on the inside of his right bicep, large tattoo on his right side that's a cover up for a burn scar, other scattered small tattoos piercings. left eyebrow piercing, both ears pierced but he only wears it on his left side positive traits. confident, optimistic, enthusiastic, adventerous, charming, loyal, empathetic, spontaneous negative traits. arrogant, impatient, jealous, cocky likes. stimulants, trying new things, partying, smiling dislike. being pushed to the side/having someone else be more important than him fears & phobias. of being deprived, painful events wishes & dreams. to be fully satisfied mbti. ESFP - The Entertainer moral alignment. neutral good enneagram type. type 7 - the enthusiast

biography.

felix james catton is born three minutes before venetia catton, starting off the relationship as her protector strong. they'll live their lives mostly together in the beginning, until they're each sent to different boarding schools during the year. it's a good thing for them: it means there's much to catch up on over breaks lounging at the pool or giggling in the maze.

saltburn becomes their base; the sanctuary that they didn't know they needed after being sent out into the wilderness. for felix, the wilderness still feels good, and being home can be downright boring. for vee. . . well felix isn't sure why her decision becomes to stay home when it is, but it makes felix surely grateful that farleigh started at boarding school and he has another out in the world to celebrate all it has to offer. not that farleigh seems to manage to stay in one place long enough to gain multiple stories: just enough to get him kicked to the curb.

it's because of this that felix learns at oxford how important it is to find a friend. in the midst of attracting a friend group, he always seems to need that one person who he can rely on no matter what. first year's mate was a boy by the name of william. william was kind, considerate, and all things you might think you need in a mate. . . and then they got to saltburn for the summer. silly felix should have learned his lesson when william couldn't make it through two weeks there before running off back home to the boondocks, never to be seen at oxford again.

the next year was edward. now. . . edward had a real chance. he was less kind ( for the best ) and more rough around the edges. he'd also never seen the likes of saltburn, but none really had, had they? see edward's problem was. . . vee caught his eye. so soon. so quick. and edward wanted to spend all of his time with the gem that she is, it left very little time for late night talks with felix.

he lasted a little longer, but as usual both twins eventually were ready to toss him out. together.

and then? along came ollie.

the story is as old as time. boy sees boy. boy obsesses over boy. boy gives boy a flat tire on his bike so that boy can talk to boy. felix never saw any of it coming. it's not in felix's way to look for the thoughts behind someone's actions, so how could he ever assume such malintent?

but ollie does the worst thing anyone could do. he lies. and lying? is simply unforgivable. attempted murder is . . . also pretty unforgivable.

a few notes:

the way in which felix lives is very verse dependent, but generally boy got some good spite in him. they can't prove what oliver did because he gets rid of the evidence. most of the time felix will eventually get a restraining order for ollie and just try to move on.

in my verses with @bloodrancold, ollie does NOT lie about his parents. one verse he just never says anything about them, and felix tries to fill in the gaps incorrectly. in the other ollie is completely telling the truth and the tables turn on felix to try to make amends for humiliating ollie. jo and i have talked about this EXTENSIVELY and for that jo's ollie is the only ollie i feel comfortable writing with right now. jo gets that i can't wrap my head around the canon we were presented AND cattonquick happening in the same universe lol.

my DEFAULT verse will be felix post oxford living in london in a shared flat with vee and farleigh. he lives with his trauma and is trying to figure out how to come out to his parents / has just come out and is learning how to live life as an openly gay man. he still has all of the problems one would expect of a white rich man in the queer scene!!!! just because we love him and he's a doll doesn't mean he isn't going to fuck up tremendously. it can't always be on farleigh to tell him that his white boy is showing: one day he's going to have to either realize he's being the worst and change or not. he's not there yet!

[devilsgatewayhq]

Name: Hunter Cassidy Age: 39 Time living in Tonopah: 1 Year Occupation: Mechanic at Reaper Crew Gang Affiliation: Civilian Neighborhood: Downtown Face Claim: Jensen Ackles

Biography (TW: child abandonment, alcoholism, war):

Having one surprise kid is scary, having two at the same time? Well, Hunter jokes he's just glad he and Hayden didn't end up flushed down a toilet somewhere. Robert and Lana were barely dating and barely out of their teens when those two pink lines showed up on the test. Maybe if the two had a support system, things would have turned out differently for all involved. But unfortunately, the two simply had each other, and even that wouldn't last for long. Decent apartments with roommates were traded in for a run down house in the town of Fouke, Arkansas, a town 15 miles southeast of Texarkana, known only for it's odd obsession with a bigfoot type monster, and not much else.

Not soon after, Hunter and Hayden Cassidy were born. ---Or, correction, Hayden and Hunter. She's 7 minutes older and she'll never fail to mention it.---The only thing worth notating in the first four years of their lives was how much trouble the two managed to get in together. But soon enough, who pulled down and broke the cookie jar, brought a snake into the house, or who trapped the other on the swing set was not the biggest concern. At only 4, while their father was at work, their mother calmly packed her bags, and while the two were down for a nap, slipped out the front door. In her defense, she thought their father would be home in a matter of an hour or two. How could she have known that he had been offered a double, and always in need of money, he had taken it without thought?

Robert Cassidy returned late at night to two, crying, confused, hungry children. Lana had left a note, but it wasn't to give a reason or convey a tear stained apology, but simply letting him know she was leaving, so he wouldn't think she had gone missing and do something as silly as calling the cops. --- If only their lives could be a hallmark movie, with a sad beginning but with an end where a single, down on his luck father found love and somehow ended up owning his own business.

Instead, Robert would spend the next 13 years being beaten down by the world, trying to provide for two kids by himself, and fight demons who had a hell of a right hook. By the time Hunter was a pre-teen, both he and his sister had grown up. Fast. They had to, their dad searching for the bottom of a bottle more often than not. But at the time, Hunter didn't mind. Their father was a good man who loved them. He was just lost. So what if the twins had to put together their money from mowing lawns and babysitting to pay the electric bill? He didn't hit them, he asked about their days if he was awake when they came in, and occasionally he'd even get shifts off to come see them at whatever free extracurricular activity they had managed to sneak their way into without parental consent.

It wasn't a surprise to anyone, though, when as soon as Hunter hit 18, he was off to the Marines. It was a way out of Fouke, a way to provide for his family, an alternative to college, and a good use of that adrenaline junkie habit. ---- Force recon, pipe hitter, door kicker, all names he wore, officially and unofficially. There were chances for advancement, but he never saw the marines as a career, simply a way out the life he had been living. He had plans to leave the marines after his contract was up, especially with the news that his girlfriend was pregnant. In an ironic twist of fate, he'd be following in his father's footsteps, just...hopefully without the significant other leaving or spiraling into alcoholism.

But again, Hunter Cassidy's life was no hallmark movie. -- Now that he's older, he understands why she did what she did. But at the time, he couldn't fathom why a woman would tell you a child was yours when it wasn't. She was young, and scared, and unsure of the future for herself and her unborn child. In the future, Hunter would come to sympathize with her actions, but in his youth, all he could feel was anger. Betrayal. Heartbreak. Loss at a future he had imagined.

That loss led him right back into the arms of the marines, deciding to continue on rather than leave like he had planned. Of course, hindsight is 20/20, but God, had he made a mistake re-upping. He'd finish off that tour honorably discharged, with a TBI and a metric shit ton of nightmares. The things he saw on that tour were things he'd never get out of his head. Things that would later come back to haunt him, in his dreams, in his waking hours, and most unfortunately, in his job.

He'd follow his sister's steps into joining law enforcement, finding his place in a SWAT team. He was practically doing exactly what he had been doing overseas. He wasn't sure if it's what he wanted as a career, but the familiarity and the supposed brotherhood called to him. But one day, a call came in that led him to a scene that was eerily similar to something he had faced on that deployment. To say he reacted poorly would be an understatement. If it hadn't led him to the conclusion that he needed to leave his job, it surely would have been forced upon him.

He's been a bit lost, since then. He knows leaving the life he had been living, one of violence, behind was what was best. But that didn't make it's loss any less confusing. His hands had grown so accustomed to holding a weapon, he wasn't sure if they knew how to do anything else. But he wanted to try.

This aimlessness led him to following his sister to Tonopah Valley. He wasn't sure why he thought starting over in a town that needed FBI agents on the ground was a good idea, but he had never been known for his brains.

Headcanons: 

Hunter and his twin sister, Hayden, have matching tattoos. They're an homage both to their hometown and their promise to always look out for one another. If you don't know what you're looking at, you'd never be able to guess what they are. But to the unknowing eye, it looks like two red circles on the back of their necks.

Has an extremely thick accent. Despite not spending any decent amount of time back home for the past two decades, it's one of the many things about Fouke, Arkansas that left it's mark on Hunter.

He doesn't sleep well, never has. If he's lucky, he's running on a four uninterrupted hours of sleep. But more often than not, he's unlucky. When he truly cannot sleep, you can find him walking around town, regardless of the hour.

Has a massive sweet tooth.