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cherry-pop-elf · 4 months

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BAKING WITH THE WEASLEY SIBLINGS

William ‘Bill’

Since he is the eldest, he had to do a lot of cooking with his parents. He was a victim of ‘third parent’ syndrome. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t find comfort in baking. It still fills a void in his heart when cooking and baking. His favorite thing to make, with you, is something he learned in Egypt. Baklava. It’s super airy, and the right amount of sweet. Given being partially turned has made his senses heighten, it makes for a good treat to share with you and his siblings. It’s nice to do normal things, when your life is so abnormal. He also learned to make some mean meat pies. Just know not to ask a slice on the full moon. That shit is raw. Thats what you get for dating a curse breaking werewolf. Eh. More protein never hurts in a diet, most of the time

Charlie

As the second oldest, he also had to do a lot of baking as well. There is also the fact that being a Dragonologist has left him fending for himself in the wild. So he’s had to get pretty creative if he wants something sweet. Hey. He’s a Weasley. They are famous for being creative. A treat he enjoys is Romanian Dessert Salami. Though, often times he uses the term liberally and often makes a rather fruity bread roll instead. Gotta use what ya got! Also, hope you are prepared to see him using his wand a lot for cooking. Don’t have much when chasing dragons. It is rather fascinating to learn how to make desserts from so little. Your little adventure man

Percy

Being the third child, you would think he wouldn’t be as responsible as his older siblings. You are wrong. The moment the two older brothers were out the door, it was his turn. Desserts were never a passion of his, so he’s not the best at it. But he won’t deny the fact he can make a mean pie. It’s a secret talent he has. You can count on him to make any pie your heart desires. He won’t say it out loud, but making pies is very therapeutic to him. He has a pie for each sibling even. Bill is meat, Charlie is mixed berries, Fred is Chocolate while George is Peanut butter, Ron is Pumpkin, and Ginny is Peach. Him? …..What was your favorite type of pie again~?

Fred

Fred isn’t really much of a baker. He’s more of the cooking type. You are better off seeing him make breakfast, despite being a night owl, compared to making any desserts. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t find his loopholes. Like how Percy is great with pies, Fred is amazing with Bread. Fred Bread! As proxy, he has his siblings favorite bread types memorized. Bill likes dark chocolate types, Charlie likes anything with berries, Percy is rather boring with banana, he loves grape while George will like orange, Ron likes hers with some pumpkin, and Ginny is the cinnamon type. Expect plenty of fresh bread with him. He’s got you covered

George

He IS the baker in the family. Who do you think brought up the idea of selling bake goods at WWW? He can, and will, bake ANYTHING! He has everyone’s favorite treats memorized. He is constantly handing out free samples to kids. He WILL find an excuse to bake. You want cookies? Hot and fresh from the oven. It’s three am and you want a cake? It’s now four am and you got a cake. He IS the baker. He loves to bake so much, and is always making sure the shop has fresh supply. If you can’t ever find him anywhere, follow your nose to the kitchen. He’s got something in the works. For someone!

Ron

Like Fred, he’s not really a baker. He’s a cooker. Doesn’t mean he can’t make a dessert if he has to. He’s become pretty good at making tarts, custards, and puddings. Very much comfort food. Something he picked up again when going to school with Harry. Given, ya know, the Dursleys. He won’t lie, it was also a cheap way to flirt with Hermione without breaking his wallet. Funny thing is she was never one for such desserts. Now she can’t get enough. He makes those comfort foods with a lot of heart, and is willing to make them if you have a bad day. He does get a bit anxious when cooking around other people, but he warms up eventually.

Ginny

Like Fred and Ron, she doesn’t really bake either. She was the baby of the family, after all. She does, however, like to make cookies for her team. There is something so nice about having a warm cookie after a cold rainy day of Quidditch practice. Helps that you convinced her to pick up the habit again. She likes to make cookies with fruit in them. To try and have them on the healthier side, given she’s an athlete. So a tart cookie is a good cookie to her. It’s simple, basic, and quick, but nothing wrong with that. A quickly made cookie, with love, is better than a drawn out dessert of labor. It’s also easy to blame her love of fruity desserts on Charlie. She’s the baby girl in an army of boys. She picked up some habits

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dianacoreexe · 8 months

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OK SO IM TAKING TOO LONG ON THE ANIMATION THAT GOES TO THIS DRAWING BUT I JUST WANTED TO POST IT NOW

These two sillies are now siblings 😼

So many people are shipping their WH OC with WWW but I see them more as siblings. Also because of how similar some parts of their designs are, it would have been weird to ship them. They are better as siblings anyways 🫶🫶

Will Wayward —> @kandavers

#will wayward #welcome home oc #it’s my first time posting I dunno what to do

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doctorbunny · 4 months

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(Part 6) MILGRAM x AVOIT bluetooth earphones collab: Mikoto and Kotoko voice lines

[Brief context: On 28th December 2023 a crossover was announced for bluetooth earphones featuring original voicelines from MILGRAM characters. [Website]

PRISON.009 Mikoto Kayano Vertical text = こんなところで何やってんだろ、僕 = What am I doing in a place like this...? [the first line of Mikoto's first voice drama]

Voice Guidance: 電源オーン = Power O~n 電源オーフ＝Power O~ff 接続成功、やったね = Connection successful, woohoo! [he cheers 'yatta ne' same as Yuno did, which is a celebratory cheer, so you can imagine him saying 'yippee' here too if you'd prefer ww] 接続解除 = Connection terminated ペアリングしてるからちょっと待ってね = It's Pairing so just wait a bit, ok? ペアリング成功 = Pairing successful あれ、ペアリング失敗しちゃった = Eh- The pairing didn't work at all そろそろ充電したほうがいいんじゃない? = Shouldn't you put it on charge soon? ノイズキャンセリングオ〜ン = Noise Cancelling O~n アンビエントマイクをオンするよ = Ambient mic turned on, y'know ノーマルモードだよ = It's on Normal Mode

Random Voice: ヒトゴロシとか言われても、知らないよ･･････ = Even if they're saying I'm like a murderer or something, I don't know anything about it おつかれー。たまにはおやすみしなよ~ = I'm exhausted-. It's pretty rare that I get a good rest~ そういう音楽聴くんだ。センスいいね = The kind of music you listen to. You've got good taste マッピー、恋バナしよ、恋バナ = Mappi-, lets chat about love, girl talk! [the word Mikoto uses here is 'koi bana' which was also the name of minigram 45, it literally means a kind of light, gossipy chat about love, but officially got TL'd as 'girl talk' so I used both terms to fit it into English better] ゆんちゃん。最近JKの間では何がアツいの? = Yun-chan. What's the latest hotness amongst the JKs? [JK is a slang term short for 女子高生/joshi kousei/female high school students, closest English slang I could think of was Girliepop but it's not quite the same. Basically he's just asking her what's currently popular with teenage girls. Mikoto also filled out his interrogation questions like it was a social media bio so he's just Like This sometimes www] フータさー。そんなんじゃモテないよ? = C'mon Fuuta-. Isn't that kind of stuff cringe? [the word Mikoto uses here is motenai, which is unpopular/avoided/unwelcome, often in the sense of 'that guy is unpopular with women', its a slang term, so I extrapolated to find an English one I felt fit] 僕を守るためなら、俺はなんだってするぜ = If its for the sake of protecting Mikoto, I'll do whatever it takes! [This is John speaking, we know because he uses 'ore', in the first half he refers to Mikoto as 'boku', which is the first person pronoun Mikoto uses] ああああー! 俺をいらつかせんなぁー!! = Arghhh-! Don't piss me off- !! [John again]

PRISON.010 Kotoko Yuzuriha Vertical text = 粛清完了。当然の報いだ = Purge Complete. It's [their] just desserts. [from the second trial teaser trailer]

Voice Guidance: 電源オン = Power On 電源オフ＝Power Off 接続成功 = Connection Successful 接続解除 = Connection Terminated ペアリング中 = Pairing [on going] ペアリング成功 = Pairing Successful ちっ、ペアリング失敗 = Tsk, Pairing failed ちょっと、バッテリーないんだけど = Hey, there's no battery left ノイズキャンセリング = Noise Cancelling アンビエントマイク、オン = Ambient Mic, On ノーマルモード = Normal Mode

Random Voice: いいわ。わかる人間にはわかるから = It's alright. Because people who understand will understand エス、私はあなたの牙になろう = Es, I will become your fang 音楽で精神集中? いいね = Using music to hone your mind? Nice フータ、少しは本気で生きたら? = Fuuta, why not try living at least a little seriously? [Once more from the top- "Thank you @maristelina!"] カヤノミコト、次は仕留める = Kayano Mikoto, I'll kill you next クスノキムウ、実害がない間は見逃してやる = Kusunoki Muu, as long as there's no real harm done, I'll overlook it for that time [Maristellina also helped here. The way Kotoko says she'll overlook Muu also suggests she views Muu as of a lower status than herself ] 私が看守ならよかったのに = I think it'd be great if I was the guard さぁ、私の罪を聴くがいい = Well then, you should listen to my sins

This is PART SIX of 6 Jackalope and Es, Haruka and Yuno, Fuuta and Muu, Shidou and Mahiru, Kazui and Amane, Mikoto and Kotoko [You are here]

#mikoto kayano #john kayano #kotoko yuzuriha #milgram #ミルグラム #milgram translation

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the-final-sif · 4 months

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One of the things I think people as a whole don't understand about the internet today is that so much of what's wrong/dangerous/flawed about the internet exists because so much of the internet started as one person's hobby they built in their spare time or as a specific task for a specific function that was just useful/functional enough that literally everyone started using it. There's tons of biases built into the modern internet and some of that is carelessness but a lot of it is... just like. This was invented by a group of grad students fucking around for a few weeks. How the fuck were they supposed to know it'd be become the global standard and that nobody would bother to address or change these things?

Like, the whole reason that the US government gets the ".gov" domain name is because this entire system was invented in the US primarily for use in universities. Under the original system, you had to phone in to talk to the center who owned the list, tell them what name you wanted and then a person would type your name/ip onto the list attached to a nickname much like a phonebook. Then people slowly figured out domains and maintaining domain registries. And then the system became useful enough that more of the US started using it, and then people realized "oh shit, other countries want to use this too, guess we need to figure that out".

The "world wide web" or the thing we all know as the internet (and the reason that every website you visit has www in front), was invented originally by one dude trying to make his own job easier (Tim Berners-Lee). He thought it was pretty cool and shared it, and he was one guy who only spoke English and was just doing what he thought was going to work.

Like, this is a very lighthearted article talking about him, but I think it illustrates the point really well,

Sir Tim Berners-Lee, the creator of the World Wide Web, has confessed that the // in a web address were actually "unnecessary". He told the Times newspaper that he could easily have designed URLs not to have the forward slashes. "There you go, it seemed like a good idea at the time," he said. He admitted that when he devised the web, almost 20 years ago, he had no idea that the forward slashes in every web address would cause "so much hassle". His light-hearted apology even had a green angle as he accepted that having to add // to every address had wasted time, printing and paper.

via "sorry for the slashs"

We have an entire internet and infrastructure built rather haphazardly but also in such a way that going back and trying to change or fix things either requires an insane amount of work or could render vast swaths of the prior internet inaccessible.

Like, I think everyone here remembers Flash getting shut down and how much of childhood games got wiped off the generally accessible internet and relegated to projects like Flashpoint. It was really hard to see, but Flash was also a project started in 1996 (or 1993 if you count the OG version that turned into flash) that was supposed to be for a limited set of use cases, and not the medium on which major parts of the internet would run. By the time Adobe shut it down, Flash was incredibly dangerous with the constant risks of malware, it was buggy, slow, and there were a million better programs. It had to be killed to make way for better things, but because of how the internet was built, that death came at a pretty high cost.

So if you're ever wondering why it feels like the web is a bunch of dominoes ready to fall down at any time, it's because it is. And it does. And so many people spend so much of their time combating all the problems created by using systems that were never intended to handle everything they are currently handling because the alternative is a task of monstrous undertaking that would almost certainly turn decades of history to dust.

#sif speaks #internet culture #internet security #idk I just like #see people talking about the internet in such a way that shows they do not understand it #like I'm pretty sure the vast majority of people these days could not describe the difference between the internet and #www #and like #that says a lot

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ravenmichaelisstuff · 1 year

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"Better late than never" Part 10

Painting nails

Soap’s sister was constantly sending the Scot photos of nail art, she was really excited to start her own small nail studio and wanted to hear her brother’s opinion since he was the only one, other MacTavish that was into art. Soap loved every single design he got sent, but also didn’t have anything to compare it to. He struggled with giving an honest opinion or criticism because he couldn’t compare it with anything.

He tried to paint his own nails but his right hand always looked way worse no matter how much he tried to steady his left hand. He would also scrape off the nail polish right after it dried since he liked to fidget with it. He needed a model.

His obvious first thought was Gaz since he seemed like the only person that would agree, but then Soap looked closer at the sergeant's hands and it was evident that Kyle’s way of dealing with stress was munching on his poor nails.

Asking Price wasn’t even an option. John was already walking on thin ice with the man after he found out about the mess he and Ghost made in the kitchen so he preferred not to bother the old man for a while.

He didn’t know Konig or Horangi long enough to ask the casually if they wanted to have their nails painted and he was also aware that Konig could bear his obnoxiousness only for a short period of time. He was never mad about it, Konig is always so nice to him but his social battery visibly drained faster when around loud people.

The only two remaining options he had were the cadets or Ghost, and even if he had higher chances of succeeding by asking a random rookie, he preferred to at least try to nag Ghost to let him do it.

WWWWWWWWWWWW

Soap and Ghost were assigned an evening guard in one of the watch towers around the base. For Soap it was probably the most boring duty he could get. He hated watching over the empty fields for hours knowing damn well that nothing would happen. Not that he wanted the base to be attacked, he just wished he could be doing something more thrilling.

Despite the fact that Ghost was usually rather content with guard duties, especially that as an officer he didn’t get it very often. For Ghost, it was an enjoyable task, especially with Soap. He was well aware that MacTavish was a ball of sparkling energy and sitting in one place wasn’t his dream activity. But it was nice to just have him at his side, bouncing leg and all. He wished he could put his hand on Johnny's thigh, not because it was annoying or anything like that. Quite the opposite actually, Ghost wished to feel the energy surging through his sergeant.

“Ghooost…I have a wee request fur ye” Said Soap in a small voice.

Ghost closed his eyes and took a deep breath, bracing for whatever ridiculous thing Soap had in mind. “What is it, sergeant?”

“Would ye let me paint yer nails?”

Ghost looked at Soap, brows pulled together under the mask.

“Nothing too extreme Lt. I just want to mess with nail art a bit for my sister Blair- the one ah talked tae ye aboot.”

“You talk about all of your siblings, and I counted at least 3 sisters.”

“Ye counted well.” Soap smiled at the fact that Simon actually listened to his constant family gossip. “She is th’ one opening a nail salon. I wanted to send her a photo of nails done by me and I need a model. My left hand is tae shaky.” Soap looked at Ghost expectantly. “And if ye don’t want me to take a photo- I won’t. The experience alone will be-”

“Ok.”

“-enough– Wait, come again?”

“I said ‘Ok’, what are you deaf now?”

“A little bit, yes.” Soap chuckled to himself. “But ah just thought it will take more to convince ye.”

“You want me to change my mind, Johnny?”

“Not at all, I will clam up now.” Soap focused on the field again, smiling to himself.

“I didn’t tell you to shut up, Johnny.” Mumbled Ghost after a while.

And Soap couldn’t help himself to not look at the man with sparkles in his eyes.

WWW

After Gaz and Gromsko came to switch shifts, Soap told Ghost to go to his room and wait for the Scot while he grabs all the things he needed.

So there Ghost was, standing in the middle of his own room not knowing what to do with himself and wondering why the fuck did he agree to this so quickly. It felt like his mouth had its own mind that wanted to desperately sabotage him.

It’s not like Ghost didn’t want to have his nails painted, the idea of it seemed appealing and there was a time when as a teenager he wanted to do it himself. His father wouldn’t look kindly at it so finally, he never did it.

And fuck, now his hands are scared and rough, the only thing they are good for is bringing people pain. He realized that he never took off his gloves near Soap, what if he sees his hands and thinks they are disgusting?

Ghost rubbed his gloved hands together, squeezing and pulling on every finger in a nervous manner.

The doors to his room opened.

“Ye have no idea how excited ah am, Lt.!” Soap’s voice pulled Ghost out of his mind. Johnny looked so… cheerful. It eased the lieutenant a bit.

“I can see you are.”

Soap tossed a bag on Ghost’s bed, it landed with a clattering sound. Soap followed after the bag.

“Come on Ghost, ye can’t change your mind now.” He tapped the space in front of him on the bed.

They both ended up sitting crisscrossed on the bed, knees touching. In the space between them lay the bad with colourful nail polishes. It wasn’t a lot, but still way too much for someone who picked up nail art only for his sister.

Johnny cared so much for the interests of others.

Ghost kept his hands on his thighs, playing with a loose thread in his jeans. Soap reached out with an open hand for Ghost to put his palm in.

Soap noticed Ghost’s nervousness, he knew him long enough to see past the mask. He didn’t know the reason for the anxiety though. It didn’t matter because Soap made it his mission to make this experience soothing for Ghost, and he will cherish the moment Ghost takes off his gloves. He will cherish the trust Ghost gives him, more and more with each day they spend together. If only he will let him.

“There is no point in doing it if you don’t want to, Simon. I was joking with the ‘You can’t change your mind’. But I swear I will try my best if you allow me.”

A slightly jittery hand immediately appeared in his.

“I am not changing my mind.” Ghost whispered, looking at their hands.

“Good.” Soap squeezed Ghost’s hand and proceed to take off the gloves.

Ghost held his breath when he realized that his hands were dirty- he didn’t have time to wash them after a mission. There was dirt and blood under his nails, a couple of cuts with already dried blood. Ghost couldn’t look at Soap, afraid of the look of repulsion.

“I should go wash my hands-” He wanted to get up, but the grip on his hand tightened.

He looked at Soap and instead of disgust, he saw pure adoration in the sergeant’s eyes. Johnny looked at his hands with so much warmth he was sure he could replace the sun.

“Don’t worry about it, I have antiseptic wipes.” Soap pulled them out of his pocket and started to carefully wipe Ghost’s hands.

Simon’s hands were scared and calloused- hands of a hard-working man, a soldier. His fingers were long, and some of them crocked slightly probably as the result of untreated fractured bones. There was the tiniest beauty mark at the base of his thumb that Soap uncovered from all the mess. His hands had a slight shake to them. But what’s most important- they fitted perfectly in Johnny’s and he loved them.

He didn’t realize when he started to rub soothing circles into Ghost’s palm. Soap looked at Ghost. The man had closed his eyes, trying to burn into his memory how Johnny’s hands feel on his- gentle and caring. Ghost forgot that touching people could feel like that.

Why did whatever they did always feel so different?

“Did ye think about what ye want me to do?” Soap broke the silence.

“Just black will be fine.”

“Of course.” Soap chuckled. “What about black n’ white? Let a man go a little crazy, huh? I want to draw something.”

“Fine. Don’t you dare to draw a cock or anything stupid or I will put you on bathroom cleaning for a week.” Warned Ghost.

Soap snorted. “Not what ah had in plans at all.”

Soap got to work, he never worked on something this small so it wasn’t his best work, but he did what he could as well as he could.

“Sorry.” Simon muttered noticing that the constant small tremble in his hands made Soap put nail polish on his skin.

“Nothin’ I can’t fix, don’t worry.” Soap nudged Ghost with his knee. “Are they always this shaky? Just asking.” But Soap was slightly concerned about it, Ghost saw that.

“No just…”

It’s mostly like that because you are around, and I just don’t know what to do with myself sometimes. I am not used to touching, good touching. And now you are just here, so close. I don’t know how to deal with the constant desire to be near you.

“...Stress I guess. Happens in our line of work.”

“I get that too sometimes, but people don’t notice. I am kind of fidgety all the time as if you didn’t notice.”

“I can tell the difference.”

Soap smiled. “Of course, you can.”

When Soap was done Ghost had his nails painted black with skulls on his thumbs and middle finders.

“In case ye want to flip someone the bird, ya’ know.”

Ghost smirked under the balaclava. “It’s… nice Johnny. Thank you.” he never thought that he will be able to admire his hands again. but there he was. “Are you taking the photo for your sister?”

“You ok with that?” John perked up.

“If it’s just my hands, I don’t think I mind your family.”

Ghost is not getting rid of those nails until the nail polish doesn’t chip off on its own.

BONUS:

To Blair >:3

Soap: *sends the photo of Ghost’s nails”

Blair: No, put the nail polish away. I can’t have you out best me at yet another thing!

Soap: I just wanted to see how it is! What do you think?

Blair: It honestly looks great, better than my first attempt.

Blair:Wait- WHOSE HANDSOME HANDS ARE THOSE???

Blair:JOHN MACTAVISH WHO IS THAT???????

Blair: I AM TELLING MOM.

Soap: NO U DON’T YOU MUPPET IT’S MY FRIEND!

Blair: MHM Suuuuureee.

YOO! I might have gone a little bit overboard with this one but I got really into it. Really enjoyed it and I hope you will to. I love reading all the feedback <3 Prompt from @u5an5 <3 I would also like to thank all the amazing people that make art and expand my little stories. Makes my heart swell <333 there is a hashtag bltn soapghost fic where you should find most of the parts

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destiel-wings · 5 months

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(I'm glad- I was worried I was being unhinged because it was from awhile ago and I was just a stranger passing through 😅 lol)

And yeah, got it here: www (dot) tumblr (dot) com (slash) chrispineofficial (slash) 720431802030915584

It was so disappointing to see, because I actually thought their post was cool, and then I saw them being unnecessarily rude and it killed the whole vibe honestly.

Anyway, I'm glad I was able to bring a little smile to your day. I was worried about what if bringing it up could open/reopen an old wound from it, but at the same time I was like "I need this random internet person to know they're not annoying because I don't want them to be sad or feel like they're fandoming wrong!" lol 😅 And thanks for the virtual hug lol, have a great week!

... Oh.

Well that was painful to see. I actually really liked that account...

I mean, adding relevant things to other people's posts is kind of the way tumblr works in my understanding, and by doing it you give OP's post more exposure hopefully in a supporting way, which should be considered a good thing?? But apparently not always. Okay.

It kinda sucks, to be honest, but I'm glad you brought it to my attention, because I've probably had other interactions since then with that account, and i had no idea they felt that way.

And again, thank you so much for being this kind to check on me (x) and make me feel better even if a few months had passed, i really appreciate it more than i can express 🥺💖💖

#lovely anon #thank you anon #anon #anon ask #ask answered #asks

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simp999 · 8 months

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Can I request something sorta angsty, yet fluffy towards the end for soldier (blu specifically)?

Specifically something to do with a losing streak, and the reader feels like a disgrace to the team. So he's sat there to comfort them. Maybe in like a friends to lovers context too (so like that's when a first kiss happens)

Sorry if this is too much, I'm not really good at writing and I enjoy the way you write the mercs in general

Aaaa I'm so sorry for taking so long- I hope this reaches your expectations!! And I'm so glad that you enjoy how I write the mercs- it's really reassuring to hear that since I'm still quite new to it www

BLU! Soldier x Reader Oneshot - You have me.

Wc: 1.8k

Themes: hurt/comfort, Angst, Fluff, Romantic

A/N: ..Does BLU Solly have a different name?

Taglist: @skeleton-stomper-xoxo @moopy-milk

Masterlist

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You hear a loud knock at the door, making you jump. It doesn't take much effort to know who could possibly be knocking that loud- and who would be busting the door down, had you not locked it.

You can't let him see you like this.

He'll think you're weak, right? You can't let him know how easily stuff gets to you. How easily a mere few words can plague your mind- and destroy it from the inside out. Not to mention the terrible job you've been doing on the battlefield, all of your recent losses feel like they were your fault. You could have done something better every time, and it feels like you never learn from your mistakes despite trying so hard to do so. The last battle was what tipped you off the edge completely- you could have won. But you hesitated. The RED Soldier ran off with the intelligence, and you were a second too late to attack. Most of the BLU team saw it, and decided to keep quiet and distance themselves. Spy was the only one to speak up later once you two had ended up alone in the hallway of the base.

"I NEED YOU TO GO EAT, PRIVATE! WE'RE CURRENTLY PUTTING THE FOOD AWAY AS WE SPEAK."

You nod to yourself- you know for a fact that you risk a great chance at your voice cracking if you spoke. Despite that nod, you know you don't have the guts to show your face to anyone any time soon- it's going to take a while for your face to get less red and puffy.

"I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE, COME EAT OR I'M BREAKING DOWN THIS DOOR!"

Oh. Oh no. You know that the guy has no restraint- but does he really have to do that far again? This'll be the third time you've seen him punch a hole through your door since you've been here- and you've been lucky compared to the others.

You let out a quick sigh, going up to gently lean on your door. Without opening it, you talk to him through it;

"I'll- I'll go eat later. I'm not hungry right now."

That came out a lot softer than you had hoped, and a lot more hesitant.

"NO, SIR! YOU NEED TO RE-FUEL FROM OUR EARLIER BATTLE!"

And with that, he begins to fumble with the doorknob. You try to hold it in place- but it's no use.

"I AM COMING IN NOW!! I WILL BRING YOU TO THE TABLE MYSELF."

You...don't really have a choice here, do you? You'd rather not have to ask Engie to replace your door handle again, so you reluctantly unlock it, still doing your best to hold it in place. You're still not ready to face him.

It doesn't take much for him to push the door open- nearly shoving you aside until he feels the extra weight against the door.

"THERE! NOW COME-" He cuts himself off mid-sentence when he sees your fragile form, holding your hands to your chest and making yourself appear as small as possible.

He stutters a few words, a mix between you's, what's and how's. He's never been too good with words, and he's really regretting that right now.

"WHO-" he notices the way you flinch a bit at the loudness, and immediately adjusts himself.

He takes a moment to take his helmet off and holds it close to show respect, and to show that he's listening.

"Who.. did this to you?"

You lazily shake your head, a nervous smile beginning to form. Always assuming people are the problem, that guy.

"It's nothing- I'm just overreacting and need a bit of time to mys-"

"If someone dares hurt you this much then it isn't nothing. Now tell me who did what so I can beat those commies' asses into the dirt. Was it those damned REDs?"

Your body still feels weak, so you gently go to sit on your bed, grabbing a plushie that Pyro had given you one day to pet and calm yourself. He comes to sit a few feet away from you, unsure if he should pat your back or leave you be, so he ends up sitting with his back straight and the farthest things from casually, with all of his attention on you.

"It's- still, it's just me overreacting-"

"NO- no, it is not. Let me hear what happened first."

You try to figure out how to phrase it all properly, but it's hard to do so with your thoughts racing.

"It's just- y'know, the losses n'.. Stuff."

Jane's brows furrow in confusion. But you always seemd to give it your best. You always fought as hard as you could, making sure that your team could stay in the match. He'd seen the way you'd casually warn your teammates of any nearing opponents, or how you'd skillfully avoid attacks and take down REDs. You often prioritized your team's safety over your own. He'd often hear you shout "6 o'clock!" or if there were enemies near, you suggested the team learn some basic sign language. He has to admit, it has saved him many times.

Another thing he noticed was that you tended to stick near him. Scout would often make fun of you for being Soldier's 'pocket buddy'- but you two simply managed to work well together. You were his common sense when he didn't have any. Which is why he immediately noticed that you began to keep your distance- ever since the second battle of your loosing streak, you've been straying farther and farther from him on the battlefield. He simply couldn't put two and two together. He didn't know how to help- he was never good with comfort.

So, he leaned in for a hug.

You flinched and shied away.

He could feel his heart break in his chest.

You always liked the pats on the head after battles, or when he'd pick you up and carry you to show you off after some exceptional battles. None of it added up- unless..

"Is it that damned RED soldier? Did he do something?"

You froze at the mention of him. There was no getting out of this. You took a long breath in and curled into yourself even more.

"It's- it's stupid. I'm just overrea-"

"-No. Tell me what the hell the bastard did." He was barely able to keep his fury contained. How dare that RED son of a bitch hurt you?!

You mumbled under your breath. Jane couldn't make sense of it, so he asked you once more.

"Never send a coward to fight a man's war, Biscuit." You held your breath, not wnting to reveal any more. Jane knew better, though. He knew that you simply getting called a coward wouldn't be enough to ruin your mood as much as this- you were so brave! Why would and insult that has nothing to do with you hurt so much?

So, he questioned you on it.

"...He calls be Biscuit because I crumble in the face of danger." You glance away. "That's what he said, anyways."

"But you don't. You often sacrifice yourself for the team. It's not always taking a bullet for us, but risking yourself to tell us that there's a teleporter hidden somewhere, or revealing your location to tell me to watch out behind me."

"But I am a coward! Even the BLUs think so-" You began to ramble, trying to validate your feelings- accidentally revealing too much.

He wants to comfort you. He wants to squeeze you so tight, and not let anyone take you away. To promise you you'll be safe with him. But first, a much more important question needs to be answered;

"What makes you think that?"

You panic, realising that you're going to have to reveal your secret. You hope that he's stupid enough that he doesn't get it.

"You remember earlier, when the RED Soldier took our intelligence, and was the closest to him?"

"Yes. You shot at him and missed."

"I hesitated."

He stayed quiet for a moment.

"It cost us the battle. I cost us the battle."

Still, nothing was adding up. You're always making hundreds of split-second decisions, evaluating every variable and trying to decide the best course of action in milliseconds. Why was a second of hesitation tearing you apart so much?

"Spy came up to me after the battle."

Jane's brows furrowed even farther.

"Sparing the RED soldier isn't going to make the BLU one like you any more."

"And he's right. You hate me. You all hate me. I can't do anything right, and you're all paying the price for my mistakes. I'm a liability, and- and I shouldn't even be on the battlefield!" Tears began to build up and overflow, your words getting louder and smushed together the longer you went on.

"I- I don't have anyone anymore!"

"You have me, Cupcake." His expression softens as he puts all of your words together.

"You.. you just want me to be proud of you? Buttercup, you have no idea how proud I am." He had an expression of disbelief written across his face, you really meant the world to him.

"You mean it?"

"I do.-"

"-I love you so damn much, you have no idea."

He's quick to hold you in a firm embrace when you tackle him in a hug. He only loosens up to pat you on the head and eventually moves any stray hairs before giving you a kiss on the forehead.

He breaks loose from your hug to give you a long speech about how strong you are, and how he'd be completely lost without you beside him. You sit on his lap as he reminds you of some of his favorite moments in battle- there's a fondness in his eyes when he recounts the first time he rocket-jumped with you.

He carefully wipes away any remaining tears, only to stare at you with so much love and adoration in his eyes. You really did mean a lot to him, and he'd do anything to show you his appreciation for you. He realizes that he's staring and quickly pulls you close to hide his face in the cook of your neck. This is when you realize that you forgot to tell him that you felt the same way- but before you could tell him, he just barely broke the hug enough to ask you;

"Can.. May I kiss you?"

You closed the distance without a second thought. Jane absentmindedly held you tight, and you could feel his smile grow into the kiss.

The next time you were out on the battlefield, both teams could only marvel at(-or be frustrated with) your newfound strength.

The two of you are one unstoppable force to be reckoned with.

Sept.7.23

#tf2 #x reader #fanfic #team fortress #team fortress two #team fortress 2 #tf2 soldier #team fortress two soldier #team fortress 2 soldier #soldier x reader #tf2 soldier x reader #tf2 soldier x you #tf2 x reader #team fortress 2 soldier x reader #team fortress soldier x reader #team fortress fanfic #tf2 oneshot

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alienssstufff · 10 months

Note

your thoughts on the symbolism in slimecicles build is so fascinating !!!! its funny that even without intention someone can create something that so perfectly represents their character's story !

"a comment on how much Slime's life and traumas are easily seen and/or even put on display" really puts so much into perspective, especially when you consider how much he down plays his present-day bonds with the others on the island (like he doesnt realize they Can even care for him despite his past)

slimecicle is such a tragic character, i'm glad that he's finally letting himself start to heal

thank you ^^! Smth about unconscious habits or the draw to certain elements -- I'm not sure www ><

I thinks it's not rly that q!Slime 'downplays' his present-day bonds, we know he holds his friends and confidants in VERY high regards by the framing the QSMP Preamble in the basement + Pomme's rare flowers she gave him today. His relationship as tio to Tilin also was one of the reasons he threw himself into Eggxile in the first place. His relationships mean the world to him - but he's stuck on believing those feelings are simply not reciprocated / better yet he believes he doesnt deserve that same level of love. (tho thats probably what you're talking about skjdhvbd)

And it certainly felt that way initially, back when people barely knew him - they treated his life (those items in the basement) as a Cautionary Tale to steer clear from. I mean that impression of Slime is very evident by the way q!Quackity used to talk about Slimeriana. But now that he's Here, as both Slime and Gegg, the Elections had allowed people to know more about Slime other than just items in the basement. There's a person who built that space and put meaning into those items.

q!Slime is SUCH a tragic character YES! he's my favourite cuz he's written tragically in a way that's sensible for what he's been through, and that there's always hope for things to get better; which in retrospect communicates such a beautiful message. Anyone can learn love and anyone can be loved :.]

#ask stufff #stufff rambles #slimecicle #qsmp

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venusthepirate · 1 year

Text

like any unloved thing part seven : friends and coffee shops

Masterlist \ ao3 \ part one \ part two \ part three \ part four \ part five \ part six

taglist : @avocado-writing @little-sunflower-bug @evangelineflowers @humbug5 @yume904 @sarcastic-sourwolf @chloeforde @illusionsnfantasies @cupofstarss @mystic-mara @staceysmomsposts @thatcharmingmushroom @www-interludeshadow-com @gingersass @hungoverhellhound @dunaahahah @raye2000 @eonnyx @supervoldejaygent @wanderedaway @princeresnikov

Fawn doesn’t leave her apartment for the next few days.

The mere thought of going outside sends her careening into… Not panic, exactly. But every time she glances out the window, a strange sense of dread pools into her chest. She ends closing the curtains, and they stay that way, the room plunged in the dark for days.

She doesn’t mind it. She spends those days a bit out of it, either high or half asleep, drowsy in front of the tv. Maybe she ought to get better coping mechanisms or something like that, but she doesn’t feel like trying to be a reasonable adult. She at least remembers to call her agency and the coffee shop where she works to tell them she’s sick and can’t work at the moment.

She avoids responding to the few texts she receives. Though, every time her phone buzzes or rings, she can’t help but check. The disappointment every time is both maddening and pathetic. She should maybe feel scared that anyone’s trying to contact her. It could be the police. Could be… That asshole’s family, she doesn’t know. And yet, every time, she can’t quite stop herself from thinking that maybe Tangerine called her, or wrote to her.

He doesn’t. It might be the smartest thing. He helped her hide the body, if anything happened and police somehow got their hands on her phone, they would see that he contacted her.

She feels a bit angry at herself. When she has enough clarity to be able to think clearly, between two spliffs, she thinks about him, and Jesus, this is pathetic. She’s not some pining teenage girl. This isn’t some bullshit love story, some Pretty Woman thing. He’s an assassin-for-hire, and she’s a hooker, for God’s sake.

Violet tries calling her on the third day. Fawn doesn’t answer, but she sends her a quick text telling her everything’s okay, which prompts Violet into calling three more times. She doesn’t pick up, instead throwing her phone away from her and burrowing into the warm plaid around her, smushing her face against the pillow.

She killed a man. She killed a man, and here she is, getting high on her couch, and thinking about Tangerine.

She sighs, watching the way the smoke unfurls into the air, rising up to the ceiling. The whole apartment must reek of weed. She hopes her plants won’t mind too much.

She thinks back to what Tangerine told her. That she could come by his apartment to water his and Lemon’s plants. Her chest constricts at the idea. Fuck, she wants it. She wants the whole fucking… Domestic life. Not just the ideal, the fucking resemblance she gave him in those expensive hotel rooms. She wants the real thing. The intimacy. Waking up next to him. Reading with him. Water his plants.

She really needs to go easier on the weed.

Eventually, after one week and a half, she reasons that she has to go out. She can’t survive solely on instant noodles, no matter how good they are. She takes a long, scalding shower, scrubs herself until her skin turns pink. She carefully selects her clothes, throwing on black pants, the warmest black sweater she can find, a black beanie, and a long black coat. She puts on some makeup to hide the bruising on her face, and huge sunglasses. She’s glad it’s sunny outside, no one will suspect anything with the sunglasses.

She has to admit, the cold air is nice. She goes to the nearby grocery shop, wandering through the aisles. She didn’t even realize new year had passed until the cashier wishes her a happy new year. It’s already early January.

It’s weird, being outside. She feels strangely vulnerable. Like she should be different. She expects people to watch her, to instantly know what she’s done. But no one spares her a second glance. No one stops to point fingers at her and call her a murderer.

Nothing happens.

When she goes back, someone is waiting in front of her apartment. She freezes in the corridor, hands full of grocery bags, mind half wondering if she should make a run for it before the person realizes she’s here.

She must have made some noise, because the figure turns back to face her. Fawn recognizes Violet instantly, despite the big glasses encompassing her face, and the balaclava wrapped around her face.

“Fuck, Violet”, Fawn curses, trying to slow down the beating of her heart. She strides towards her door, passing next to Violet, and struggles for some time to find her key inside her pockets without having to put down her bags. “What are you doing here ?”

She lets them in, quickly putting down the bags on the floor and closing the door behind them.

“What am I doing here ?” Violet repeats, voice raising an octave higher. Shit, she’s angry. “You’ve been rejecting my calls !”

“Yeah, as a precaution ! It’s not safe to talk about this on the phone, alright ? We have to lay low for a bit.”

“Well, I couldn’t know that, since you didn’t tell me shit”, Violet retorts, crossing her arms on her chest.

They stare at each other for a moment, until Fawn realizes that they’re both still wearing those huge sunglasses. Violet must come to the same conclusion, because her lips quirk up, and then they’re both laughing. It’s more of a nervous laugh than anything, or maybe just because they’re relieved, but they can’t stop for at least five minutes. Every time Fawn thinks the laughter will finally die down, it starts again. Her chest starts to hurt at the end, and she kind of wants to sit down on the ground.

She’s worried she’s just going to start crying in the end.

“Fuck”, Violet says at last, wiping at her cheeks. She takes off her glasses and her balaclava. Fawn is met with the sight of the bruises on her face, not unlike her own, except Violet’s face is more battered than hers. There’s a huge purple bruise on her forehead, on the bridge of her nose and her temples. “Was worrying myself sick, you asshole. I kept checking the news every ten minutes.”

“Sorry”, Fawn murmurs, taking off her beanie and glasses too. She finally gives up and sits on the floor, not quite feeling like her legs can support her longer. “How are you ?”

“Not bad”, Violet replies, sitting down too. “My nose was broken, but my boyfriend reset it. He’s a nurse.”

Fawn nods.

“That’s good. Did you… Tell him ?”

She shakes her head, looking away. “I thought it would be too risky. Didn’t want to rope him into this shitshow, in case of…” She cuts off. “What happened, after I left ? Did you… talk to the police ?

Fawn tries to find the words. Fuck, how does she explain what happened ? She can’t talk about Tangerine. She doesn’t want to break his trust, and Violet would worry. No one would react well to the news that someone is an assassin for hire.

Except herself, it seems.

“It’s complicated”, she murmurs. “Look, it’s best you don’t know, alright ? Someone helped me, and you don’t have to worry. The body won’t be found, nothing will be traced back to you. I promise.”

Violet stares at her for a moment, before nodding. She still looks unsure, like she wants to press Fawn for more answers, but she must understand that she won’t tell her any more, so she doesn’t ask again. She looks around, and turns up her nose.

“Your place reeks of weed.”

Fawn snorts out a laugh.

“You’re one to talk, you look like utter shit.”

Violet rolls her eyes.

“Girl, have you seen yourself ?”

They both can’t help but giggle. Fuck, this feels good. Being able to laugh, after spending the last few days wallowing in self-pity and pining.

“I’ve been smoking weed and watching TV for the last week”, Fawn tells her. “Don’t tell me you didn’t do the same.”

“Well, I didn’t, actually. I smoked maybe once. And then I cuddled a lot with my boyfriend.”

Something in Fawn’s chest aches, of all sudden, pulsing hot pain against her lungs. She’s reminded of that night. Slipping into Tangerine’s bed. His arms wrapping around her, pressing his face against her throat. His breath against her skin. The grip of his hand at the back of her neck, gently holding.

Cuddling.

She shakes her head, trying to disperse these thoughts.

This is starting to get really fucking pathetic.

She forces a smile out.

“I’m glad you have him”, Fawn tells her. “How did you explain the bruises and the broken nose, though ?”

“I told him the truth. I couldn’t really lie. I told him a client did this, and that’s it.”

“Oh”, Fawn murmurs. “But… Is he going to be okay now with you doing this job ?”

“I’m not.” At Fawn’s confused look, she goes on. “I’m not going to do it anymore. I called the agency three days ago. Told them I quit.”

Fawn definitely was not expecting that. She doesn’t know why, because, in hindsight, she should have. A client attacked them, almost killed Violet. And she has her boyfriend now.

“I knew I wasn’t going to do this forever, you know ?” Violet continues, as if she wants to convince her of something. “It was kinda fun, at first. Pretending to be someone else, being desired. The easy money. But… I stopped enjoying it for while, I think. If anything, what happened is… A wake-up call, if you want. It’s best to see it that way.”

“Oh”, Fawn repeats, unable to say anything else.

She hadn’t really thought of it. She’s never really thought about… Stopping this work, before. It’s been a constant in her life. The pay is good, easy. But now that she thinks about it, she realizes that Violet may be right. It was fun at first. But now… She doesn’t know if she still enjoys it. Clients liked a conversation, but now there seems to be less and less of them. She liked that part too, maybe more than the sex in itself.

“What about you ?” Violet asks. “You still planning on taking clients ?”

“I don’t know. I told the agency I was sick, but… I never really planned on doing something else. I haven’t really thought about it.”

Violet nods.

“You should think about it. I’m not going to tell you what to do with your life, I’ll support your decision no matter what it is. But I think you should consider it.”

Fawn thinks of Tangerine again.

She realizes now, how similar they actually are. He’s not just a client, is he ? She always knew that, could always sense that he wasn’t like the other clients she had. There was something too… wild, about him. He’s like her, in some ways. Selling his services to richer people. She wonders if he enjoys it.

“Yeah, I’ll think about it”, she finally settles on answering, voice quiet.

Violet reaches out and takes her hand, squeezing gently.

“I’m glad you’re okay”, Violet tells her, voice sincere. “If you had gone to jail, I… I don’t know what I would have done. I can never thank you enough for what you did.”

Fawn smiles, blinking against the sudden tears in her eyes. She nods, squeezing her hand back.

“It wasn’t your fault. I’m the one who…” Killed him, she doesn’t say. She can’t really bring herself to speak it aloud, sometimes.

It sounds surreal, every time. When she tries to remember what happened at that moment, her mind goes blank. She can’t describe precisely the scene, apart from vague feelings and sensations. Wetness on her hands. The feeling of the knife tearing through flesh. The sound of Tangerine’s steps as he stepped into the pool of blood.

“You did it because he attacked me”, Violet argues. “If it weren’t for me…”

“Don’t fucking say that”, Fawn snaps. Violet stares at her, wide-eyed, surprised at her outburst. Fawn takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. “I don’t blame you for what happened and I never will. And I don’t regret what I did. He was a creep. Alright ?”

She nods after a moment, stunned into silence. Fuck, she shouldn’t have talked like that.

“I just… I just wish you didn’t have to do it”, Violet murmurs, at last, very quiet.

Fawn reaches out, pulling her into her arms. Violet’s arms come around her, hugging her back just as tightly.

It takes another week before Fawn feels like she can finally go back to work. Her bruises have faded enough that she can cover them with some foundation. She calls the café, tells them she’s no longer sick and can take shifts.

She doesn’t call the agency, though. She contemplates it, sitting in her bed, the contact open, her thumb hovering over the call button. But Violet’s words are still deeply anchored in her mind. Does she still enjoy it doing this ? She did, with Tangerine, and she didn’t at the same time. She liked the conversations, being wanted for tender touches. She didn’t like the way it sometimes made her feel. The way she started craving those touches too.

She wants him. There’s no denying that anymore. She wants the almost sickly sweet domestic moments with him, falling asleep and waking up together. Wants to sit at his kitchen and watch while he makes her tea like he did last time.

Does he want it, though ? He told her, the first time that he met her, that he wanted something other than sex. That he didn’t have time for making connections. It wouldn’t take any of his time here. They already knew each other, they were already… Intimate. She couldn’t think of any other words to describe their situation.

But every time, she’s reminded of his reaction, when she kissed him. He told her he didn’t want sex, but she doesn’t really understand what he meant by this.

She wallows in her thoughts, forcing a smile every time a customer walks to the counter to order something. She finds her café shifts relaxing. The smell of cinnamon, coffee and hot chocolate wrapped around her. The soft music playing into the speakers.

She’s busy wiping the counter and the coffee machine when she hears the entrance bell. She looks up, ready to welcome whoever arrived and to ask them what they’ll be drinking, but she freezes, stunned into silence.

Tangerine strides towards her. His hair is styled back like it usually is, curling at his nape. He’s wearing a navy suit and a long matching coat.

She’s so surprised she doesn’t even greet him, just staring at him as he stops behind the counter. His fingers lightly drum against it, his gold rings glinting.

“Tangerine”, Fawn finally manages to say, getting a grip on herself.

“Hey, love”, he replies, easily.

“What… What are you doing here ? How did you… No, don’t answer that, I don’t even want to know”, she rambles, struggling to find her words. Tangerine seems amused. She wants to bash his head with the coffee machine.

“I’ll take a coffee, black, please”, he says, instead of answering her question. She stares at him, aware that she’s doing it. What is happening. “When does your shift end ?”

She contemplates not answering him, but he came all this way. She realizes, with startling clarity, that maybe he’s here to talk to her about the body. What if something happened ?

“I have a break in twenty minutes”, she hears herself reply.

Tangerine nods. “Great. I’ll wait for you out back, then.”

She doesn’t know what to think of this. Her mind is half torn between panic and being glad to see him. She busies herself with making his coffee, tries not to look at him, but the way he keeps drumming his fingers on the counter is very distracting.

She finally slides his coffee in front of him. He deposits a few coins in front of her, drops a bill (is that a fifty) into her tip jar, and grabs his drink.

“Cheers, love”, he says. “I’ll see you in twenty”, and with that, he walks out.

Fawn stares at the door for what might be ten minutes after he’s departed. She’s not sure she believes what just happened.

He knew her phone number without her ever giving it to him. He knows where she lives since he drove her back, and apparently now knows where she works too.

Jesus.

She wants to chew him out for his disrespect of her privacy. But he’s an assassin. It seems like being aware of things is a given, in this situation.

She wants to tell him what she feels. Wants to ask him what he wants.

Fuck.

Her break seems like it might never come, and also like it came way too fast. Before she knows it, she’s unwrapping her apron, setting it down in the backroom, and opening the door leading to the small alley at the back of the café.

Tangerine’s waiting there, leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. He flicks the ashes off. His cup of coffee sits at his feet, empty.

She wordlessly extends a hand, and he passes the cigarette to her. She can feel the weight of his gaze on her as she takes a drag of it. She gives it back to him.

“So”, she finally speaks. “What are you doing here ?”

Tangerine half shrugs. He suddenly seems a bit self-conscious, his confidence from before melting away.

“Here to check on you, I guess.”

“You could’ve called”, Fawn points out. “You have my phone number. You even know where I live.”

Tangerine shuffles a bit. “Was trying to be respectful, or some shit”, he mutters.

Fawn can’t help the way her lips widen into a smile. “By showing up at my workplace ?”

“Oh, hush, will you”, he grumbles. “I’m shit at this, alright.”

She snorts, taking the cigarette from his fingers again.

“Called your agency, actually”, he adds. “They told me you weren’t available.”

Fawn’s throat gets suddenly dry. She manages not to choke on her next drag, breathing deeply, trying to clear her throat.

“Yeah, I… I’m taking a break, I think.” Tangerine remains silent, waiting for her to continue. “I don’t know if I’ll come back.”

“Oh”, he simply says. Fawn glances up at him, trying to decipher his expression, but his face is downcast, staring at the ground. Something in her chest twists at this.

“It doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you anymore”, she adds, before she can second-guess herself. At this, Tangerine looks up.

“Yeah ?”

This time, it’s her turn to look away. She tries to swallow under the heavy lump inside her throat. His voice sounded so… Fucking hopeful. Vulnerable, and guarded at the same time. She doesn’t know what to think of it.

“Yeah”, she murmurs, quietly. She clears her throat again. “How’s Lemon, anyway ? Did you buy him real plants ?”

Tangerine snorts, taking a drag of the cigarette, before dropping it on the ground and stepping on it. Fawn almost wants to tell him not to leave it here, but she doesn’t.

“I wanted to, actually. But we’re leaving for Tokyo for a job tomorrow, so I thought it was best to wait until we came back.”

“Tokyo”, Fawn repeats.

“Yeah. Hence the visit. I wanted to give you this, too.”

She watches as he pulls out small box and an envelope from the inside pocket of his suit and hands them to her. She takes them slowly, a bit unsure.

“What’s this ?” She asks.

“That’s the money I forgot to pay you last time”, he replies, motioning towards the envelope. “Plus some interests. And that’s a gift.”

Fawn raises an eyebrow, glancing up at him. He looks a bit embarrassed, raking a hand through his hair.

She looks back down at the box, and opens it. There’s a pocket knife inside. She frowns, gently plucking it out and flipping it open. She can immediately see that this is not a cheap thing like the one she had. The handle is smooth beneath her fingers, the blade sharp and shiny.

“To replace the one you had”, Tangerine supplies, rather unhelpfully. He takes a step forward, gently taking it from her hands and closing it, putting it back inside the box.

“I… Thank you”, Fawn tells him, unable to find her words and to look at him.

“Hey”, Tangerine says, coming even closer, until he’s right into her space. She can feel his cologne, and see the way his chest rises when he breathes. “What’s the matter ?”

He brushes a finger against her chin, and pushes a bit until she has no choice but to look up at him. She’s met with his face, a few inches away from her. She sucks in a sharp breath. Why do his eyes have to be so fucking blue ?

“I…” She tries to say, but fails to come up with anything. She can’t think, not with his fingers brushing against her face.

He looks concerned, a little crease between his eyebrows as he’s frowning. It really should not be as endearing as it is. Fawn wants to do something stupid, like cry, or kiss him.

He opens his mouth to say something, and she does just that. Closing the remaining distance between them, hand curling around the curls at his nape and angling his face down to meet her. She presses a kiss against his lips, soft, almost chaste, before pulling away. He looks at her, wide-eyed.

She raises her other hand to settle it on his chest, just on top of his heart. She can almost feel the fluttering beating against her palm.

“Don’t freak out”, she whispers, almost pleadingly.

For a fleeting moment, fear grasps her lungs. She thinks he’s going to leave again and for good this time. Tell her that’s not what he wants.

But then his hand comes up to the side of her neck, and he’s leaning down and kissing her. She parts her lips, kissing him back, her fingers curling tighter around his hair, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His mouth is urgent against hers, warm and soft. He tastes like coffee and smoke, and she can’t get enough of it.

She doesn’t realize he’s backing her off until her shoulders hit the wall behind her. He presses against her, tongue brushing against hers. Fawn feels like everything around her has collapsed into a hazy, foggy dream. She can’t focus on anything else than his lips against hers, and his hands on her skin.

She pulls a bit at his hair, and he whines against her mouth, breaking off the kiss. He doesn’t pull away, though, pressing his forehead against hers. They breathe against each other for a moment, panting.

“It’s okay”, she tells him, quietly. “It’s okay.”

His hands frame her face, his fingers warm and the metal of his rings cold on her skin. She lets him hold her, his grip firm but tender. She can feel how swollen her lips are. His are not better, pink and shiny with spit.

He presses his lips against hers again, long and insistent. She feels like the breath has been knocked out of her, warmth pooling in her lower stomach.

“Don’t be scared”, she murmurs between kisses.

When they finally break away again, his eyes are dark. But there’s something genuine, sincere and open in his expression.

“I’m not”, he tells her, voice rough. She closes his eyes, leaning against his touch. He kisses her forehead, and she almost wants to burst into tears, arms wrapping around his waist to hold him back. She can feel his breathing beneath her palms.

She looks up at him.

“I’m not”, he repeats, without blinking and looking away from her, and kisses her again.

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #bullet train #bullet train tangerine #bullet train 2022 #tangerine x oc #bullet train fic #lemon and tangerine

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months

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Yo! Good morning/evening, hope you are fine^^💝. I wanted to ask you a question but I was afraid that it may bother you or something (you know..that feeling when you are scared that you might disturb someone or being an unwelcome person) but yeah I will ask you since i was serious about your answer for some time now so I hope I'm not annoying you or something *feel free to answer only if you wish^^. You seem to know the characters pretty well, you are quite capable and great at reading and understanding them, one of the things I'm serious about is what do you think would make someone qualified enough to be with malleus? Do they have to be of the same species?certain Reputation, stature or traits?(sorry can't help it since I can't rest until I know everything about what interests me and figure it all out😅). Thanks for giving me some of your precious time I really like your blog, you're amazing💜

No worries, you’re not bothering me at all ^^ I love to talk about my hyperfixations www

Now, I know a lot of fans (particularly on the EN side) like to ship Malleus with their OC and especially with Yuu so I want to first make it clear that my response is NOT meant to invalidate those Malleus shippers. Whatever I say here is based on my own interpretation of canon lore (and let’s be real here, TWST won’t ever confirm if anyone is romantically interested in Yuu because it might not work with how some players view their own relationship with that character). In fanon, anyone can be with anyone, but in canon there are very specific in-universe rules and expectations laid out for Malleus so these are what I will be referring to.

I also want to emphasize that the final traits I discuss in this post do NOT reflect Malleus’s personal tastes or views. He has little say in what kind of an individual his spouse would be, so his own preferences are not speculated about or taken into account here. The traits I will be bringing up are based on what I believe the lore implies are the desirable traits for those marrying into the Draconia royal family.

We got it? Good 👍 Read more below the cut!!

Firstly, I’m completely disregarding the ideas of “Malleus can love whoever he wants to love”, “Malleus can scare people into accepting who he loves”, and/or “Malleus can change the law so he can marry who he loves” (a la Sultan from Aladdin or through some other Disney magic or logic). Here’s why:

In general, those solutions for “high stakes issues” are too simple, and that has never been how Twisted Wonderland tackles complicated problems. Just look at every single OB boy’s backstory. They’re so complex that they aren’t totally resolved by the end of their books; these problems persist and are long term things each of them are working on addressing. This is also true of the politics TWST introduces to us; Leona for example explains how there is social pushback and resistance to the idea of infrastructure reform because the culture of the Sunset Savanna stresses harmony with nature. This has made it difficult for them to adopt new technologies because real politicians in their world have to seriously weigh their cultural values with their health and societal progress. The only time there are really easy solutions are in events or vignettes where the emotional stakes are not super high, but who Malleus marries is, in fact, super important since this will entirely change the life of a main character and his country.

With that first bullet point in mind… No, Malleus cannot love whoever he wants to love. Certainly, he may feel affection for another but he can never truly be with them. He is royalty and the only heir to the throne of Briar Valley. It follows that he is expected to marry for political reasons/to better his nation. This is a non-negotiable obligation for him.

Rather than saying, “Malleus cannot scare people into accepting who he loves”, I think it’s more accurate to say Malleus knows he probably shouldn’t. I mean, yes, he may be upset about his S/O not being accepted by his people but I feel that is discrediting a lot of the loyalty he has for his own country. As a kid he may have thrown tantrums when he was upset and potentially harmed staff, but as a 178 year old he has a much better understanding of decorum and maintaining it in spite of his own grudges. For example, even though he personally dislikes Leona he still commands Sebek to apologize to him because, at the end of the day, this could harm Briar Valley’s relationship with the Sunset Savanna. That’s not to say that Malleus can’t be petty (he definitely is)—but implying he would be petty toward basically his entire country just because they would disapprove of the one he loves?? (We know this would likely be true because Sebek’s parents faced similar backlash when they got together.) I feel like his own sense of awareness and responsibility for his country, crown, and people would override that. As an example, Malleus states that he has never been in a car before because the senate would be against it and often kept Malleus in the castle. Someone of his power could easily ignore them and sneak out and do whatever he wanted, yet the dialogue implies Malleus didn’t. He obeyed his political advisors even when he was younger and arguably much more immature. Malleus might not like certain decisions made about his life but it sounds like he ultimately complies with them.

Continuing from the previous point, let’s say for the sake of argument that Malleus does scare everyone into line. What about his public image and the mental health of his S/O? Maybe Malleus can frighten people to not talk out of turn to his face, but he cannot control what people whisper about him behind closed doors or to treat his S/O well or like they actually like them. Not only would they be alienated (away from their own home and forced to adapt to a new one) but they’d be treated oddly by others too. What kind of reputation is that for Malleus? To be a tyrant king who throws a hissy fit anytime someone talks about his partner in a way he doesn’t approve of? With a spouse who is not at their best mentally because of the constant ostracization? (This is similar to what Leona experienced in his childhood.) I don’t think Malleus would want to subject anyone to that kind of life, especially not one he loves. And again, this attitude would be the vast majority of his people. It’s not like it can be avoided or resolved in an easy manner, especially when the people of Briar Valley have proven to be against change.

Lastly, Malleus would not change the law so he can be with whoever he wants to. To begin with, I doubt this is a unilateral position the senate would approve of. But okay, let’s accept that Malleus is royalty so his power overrides the advisors’ power. So he effectively just changed a law for a very selfish and personal reason rather than changing something to actually benefit his people. That doesn’t feel in-character for him, not when Malleus seems to understand that it is the duty of those in higher status to help those below them rather than themselves (see: Riddle’s Suitor Suit vignettes. Malleus has acted selfish before, yes (who remembers Endless Halloween Night? His Dorm Uniform vignettes? I do.)—but never at the cost of changing the status quo of his country. (Book 7 is not included here because he’s in a very distressed emotional state then; this “new law” scenario posits that Malleus is in a normal state of mind.) This is a major change—change which Briar Valley, its people, and most importantly, Malleus, are not ready for. You think there wouldn’t be social pushback against this? From a society that has become complacent with its own way of life and is still isolated from the rest of the world? That Malleus, someone who struggles greatly with accepting life changes himself, could enact such a big change so easily? (On a more technical level, you don’t just pass a law and it instantly becomes tangible or real, there is a process of approval and then implementation.)

Additionally, it’s made clear in Ghost Marriage that “[Malleus] cannot enter into an engagement lightly”, which is why Sebek goes in his place. Eliza, the Ghost Bride, is royalty (er, albeit dead) but it seems that royal status is not enough to qualify as his partner. Maybe this is because she’s dead and doesn’t have anything of value for Briar Valley (no land, no people, no political power), but it could also mean that the partner has to be given the thumbs up by other parties.

All that being said, here are some of the conditions I think would have to be met for Malleus’s future spouse:

Has to be someone of equal or at least high status. This means they also have to be a royal or at least of nobility. This appears to be true of Malleus’s dad, who is referred to as a duke.

Because of how self-contained Briar Valley is + nocturnal fae having beef with diurnal fae, I imagine his partner would have to also be a nocturnal fae. This would also solve the MASSIVE lifespan difference between fae and non-fae because at least fae would be far closer to each other even if their lifespans fluctuate but subspecies.

Someone suited to rule by his side. Being married into any royal family is no joke—it comes with the expectation that you will contribute somehow, and the partner should be fully equipped to enter the world of politics with him.

Piggybacking off the last point, I think mental fortitude is also a prerequisite. This is because being a politician (navigating the social climate both within your country and outside of it, keeping your people and colleagues happy, maintaining public approval, managing laws, dealing with potential attempts on your life, etc.) can be very stressful and can hurt those who are faint of heart or not prepared for the responsibility. Leaders have to make tough calls at the drop of a hat, and they have to be ready for it.

Has a lot to offer in terms of benefits to Briar Valley as a country. This could be in terms of resources, connections, and/or political savvy. This appears to be true of Malleus’s dad, who acted as a diplomat for Briar Valley.

Vetting and formal approval from the senate. lmao good luck with that

Has to be able and willing to have a child. They at least need an heir to the throne to succeed Malleus. (However, knowing how exclusionary and conservative as heck the senators are, I doubt they would accept anything but a biological child 💀)

Preferably someone with powerful magic or is skilled at magic already so as to lessen the chance of “tainting” the bloodline with a weak mage or a non-mage.

I believe that Briar Valley would prefer someone with old fashioned values like them, not someone pushing for massive reform. They have a culture that is resistant to change and a history of fighting for resources with outsiders, so if Malleus’s new spouse tries to introduce a bunch of technology or open its borders to other countries (even if they have good intentions), the people + the senate may oppose them. His father is implied to be open-minded, but he at least understood that such change isn’t reasonable without time and effort dedicated to the endeavor.

All that being said 💦 I think that this topic is actually less about what Malleus as an individual wants and what his country, his people, and, yes, even his asshole senators, want. This is basically an arranged marriage situation so that their country can maintain power and relevance. It’s about the collective and what Malleus must do for their perceived security and prosperity.

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trillscienceofficer · 11 months

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idk if you’ve seen this post but it very much made me think of b’elanna and a lot of the conversations we’ve been having about her recently: www(.)tumblr(.)com/weltenwellen/614081842448056320/lindsay-c-gibson-adult-children-of-emotionally

Thank you for bringing this to my attention, this quote is SURE relevant to B'Elanna (here in plain text):

Not Trusting Your Instincts Emotionally immature parents don't know how to validate their child's feelings and instincts. Without this validation, children learn to give in to what others seem sure about. As adults, they may deny their instincts to the point where they acquiesce to relationships they don't really want. They may then believe it's up to them to make the relationship work. They may rationalize why they have to try so hard in the relationship, as though it were normal to struggle daily to get along with your mate. While effort is needed to maintain communication and connection in a relationship, it shouldn't feel like constant, unrewarding work. The truth is, if both partners fit each other, understand each other's feelings, and are positive and supportive, relationships are primarily pleasurable, not arduous. It isn't asking too much to generally feel happy when you see your partner or look forward to time together. When people say, "You can't have everything," they're really saying they don't have what they need.

As a human being, you can trust yourself to l know when you're emotionally satisfied. You know I when you've been given full measure. You aren't a bottomless pits of ceaseless demands. You can trust the inner prompts that tell you when something is missing. But if you've been trained to discount your feelings, you'll feel guilty for complaining if everything looks okay on the outside. If you have a place to live, a regular paycheck, enough food, and a partner or friends, conventional wisdom says, "How bad can it be?" Many people can readily enumerate all the reasons why they should be satisfied and be shy about admitting that they aren't. They blame themselves for not having the "right" feelings.

— Lindsay C. Gibson, “Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents”

You're right, this is B'Elanna in a nutshell. The constant racial stereotyping she was subjected to and the fact that her own father bought into it really did a number on B'Elanna's self-esteem. So many of her childhood memories revolve around people goading her into a reaction then berate her for her anger once she finally snapped. It's like she was gaslighted into believing that every single one of her feelings was unreasonable, and therefore now she doesn't trust herself when it comes to evaluating how she fits within any social structure, deferring to the opinion of others.

This is most obvious in her relationship with Tom (honestly, this quote describes their relationship so well it's kind of uncanny) but I'd argue that B'Elanna trying to get into Starfleet only to quit the Academy is a twisted symptom of this as well—she didn't trust herself enough to know whether she could actually graduate, so she believed the people who told her she would never make it (and never mind the fact that in reality the Starfleet instructors were impressed with her—rattling cages doesn't work with everyone and was clearly NOT what B'Elanna needed).

And in “Drive” we see this coming back with a vengeance, she doesn't trust herself enough to call it quits with Tom and when he eventually proposes she just... goes along with it, mixed feelings suddenly irrelevant in the face of someone else's (apparent) convictions. I think Tom has similar issue as well so this is truly a 'but who's driving the car??' situation, they're both thinking that the other wants it more than they do and that they don't actually deserve any better!

(ETA: frankly their entire relationship started this way too, like... with all the alien crap making a latent attraction actually become overt in a way they wouldn't have chosen otherwise, B'Elanna and Tom practically pulled each other into a relationship)

I also think this is why B'Elanna seems to latch onto authority figures (like Chakotay and Janeway) so readily, though she would never admit it. It's a way for her to figure out what's the 'correct' way to interface with other people, so she can orient her feelings towards fitting into any expectation they might have. Of course that never really works out as well as she'd like because she is an actual person, and one with many feelings and opinions, even if she's spent so many years running away from them. And running away from feelings is sure another one of B'Elanna's traits (it's the entire plot of “Extreme Risk”).

The part of that quote about parents not validating their children's feelings makes me now wonder about what would've happened if B'Elanna had had parents who consistently and explicitly supported her, and made sure she understood that she was not overreacting when she was being bullied. Mostly if she'd had a father who didn't suck so bad; I think Miral tried in her own way to support her daughter as best as she could, although she was completely isolated and probably dealing with a lot of self-doubt of her own in the middle of a crumbling relationship. I'm not so naive to believe that better parenting would've solved every single one of B'Elanna's issues (you can't just wish away the impact that racism has on children, unfortunately), but she would probably be better equipped to trust herself and her own emotions than she is on the show, at least.

#thinking about B'Elanna be like.........aaauuuughhhh #b'elanna torres #voy #askbox

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vs120shound · 1 year

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GIFs FROM SFK: SAVANNAH FROM SPECIALIZED VIDEOS

★ ★ ★ ½ | Three-and-a-Half "Stars"

From vs120shound staff | ★★★★ (--)

OK, a gift from SFK as well!

Praise for this post belongs to CowgirlStyler from Smoking Fetish Kingdom (SFK). That is the source for The Staff at the ole VS120s Hound SF-Content Shop post here, which receives official credit for the tumblr-original post. Folks within our organizzazione (that's the Italian word for "organization") did a super job of putting this together and producing for consumption for our friends, fans and followers. Hoping you appreciate this effort as much as we do. Why not a higher rating than ★★★½'s is a fair question. Best answer is a question in response, "Why not more GIFs in the post?" There were two others in the CowgirlStyler blog, one of which was the best among the seven posted there but was too large to fit within tumblr's specs for GIF size. What a shame! Stuff (s_it) happens! We're more than happy with the outcome of the staff's product. CowgirlStyler is rated a "Baron" on SFK (vs120shound is rated a "King"). Added in late-April 2023. Thanks to CowgirlStyler for the original post on SFK. So is this a post or a re-blog when it transfers from one platform (SFK) to another (tumblr)? We've asked that before. It's OK either way you feel about it, but we all agree that if there is a transfer, as is the case here, we want to make sure that those who have appetites for SF content on the World Wide Web ("www") know the deal. Deal explained here. Job done. Hope you enjoy. Bringing more GIFs is one of our goals here at vs120shound/lostlighter23. Savannah was a smoking darling/BSW for Specialized Videos (Michigan, U.S.A.) before it was de-activated in the middle of the last decade. Savannah did many shoots with her sister, Tabitha. They were great together and separately. Savannah is real cute, pretty in her own way and plenty sexy. Hungry, stylish smoker, real strong on the exhale most of the time. Solid SF model. Smoked many different brands; was not shy about mixing in menthols. Tabitha is a Menthols Girl, often Salems. Believe at her core, Savannah is a Marlboro Girl. Wonder whether she's smoking today, and her sister, too. Are they still gobbling up as many cigarettes in a day as possible. That was their habits years ago. Time has its way of affecting smoking habits, doesn't it? For the better; for the worse. Being more healthy is the goal of many people, even cigarette smokers as well!

#SF #Hot women who love smoking cigarettes #Smoking #Savannah from Specialized Videos!#GIFs of BSWs!

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liiilyevans · 1 year

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Life's a Witch

Summary: Ginny gets some bad news and goes to her sister-in-law for advice.

A/N: This was written for the @hp-12monthsofmagic challenge this month. I struggled with the prompt for a while, but then this came to me. So, buckle up for some good old fashioned angst.

Read on AO3 or FF.net

“Oh, Gin, I’m so sorry,” Harry said as he looked up from the letter. There were very few times in her life when Ginny wanted to slap her husband, but this was one of those times. His striking green eyes – the eyes that she’d fallen in love with – were filled with sympathy. If his hair hadn’t been up in a bun, Ginny was sure he’d have been running his hands through it. Instead, he settled for stroking his beard solemnly. Not like there was much to say, not really.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked, starting to slip around the island toward her. Ginny sidestepped and immediately regretted it. Hurt filled Harry’s eyes. “Maybe it’s just a fluke.”

Ginny snorted. “Tell that to the Harpies.” Harry looked sweet in his sweatpants and loose tee, but Ginny didn’t want sweet right now. “I need some air. Will you watch the boys?”

“Gin,” he whispered.

“Please?” she said, slightly more rough than the first time.

Harry blew out a breath. “Yeah, I’ll watch the boys.”

With that, Ginny turned on her heel and marched outside. The air was brisk, but the sun was out. A nice day for October. She spun and landed in the bustling streets of Diagon Alley, the bright colors of her brother’s shop nearly blinding her. Not bothering with the annoyed looking women she’d almost run into, she opened the door and tried to adjust to the cacophony of noise.

There was always laughter in George’s shop, mainly kids’ laughter, which Ginny thought was good for him. Then there were the small explosions by the fireworks section, a whole new line of WWW products that Ginny thought was long overdue. Of course, there were the parents complaining, but Ginny never understood why they’d bring their kids into a shop like this if they were going to complain about it.

Finally, Ginny found her brother behind the counter. He was grinning down at a little kid who was rambling on about Canary Creams. His brown eyes were filled with laughter, and there was a grin on his face. Even now, Ginny was surprised at how bright it was. She suspected his wife and son had something to do with that.

“I need to talk to you,” Ginny said, interrupting the seven-year-old.

The kid’s mouth fell open as he stared at her. “You’re the famous Quidditch player.”

Ginny ground her teeth. “No shit.” She pointed at George. “I need to speak to the owner.”

The kid finally took the hint and scampered off, though he did cast a longing look over his shoulder.

“Ginny Potter, scaring her young fans more than You-Know-Poo,” George quipped as he rested his hands on the counter. “What can I do for you?”

“Where’s your fucking wife?” she asked, ignoring George’s attempt at small talk.

Her brother reeled back slightly, his eyes narrowing. “What do you want with her?” Normally, George was the first person to back Ginny up – one of her loudest supporters – even when she was wrong. The reverse was also true; she’d yelled at her mum for berating George even when he’d been plastered and ruining their family dinner. It was a closeness that had developed and strengthened after Fred passed. The only person who could change that was Angelina. George had always been defensive of her, perhaps because their mother was always too protective of them.

Normally, Ginny would admire that. Today, it just furthered her annoyance.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, narrowing her eyes and leaning across the counter toward him. “Where is she?”

George made the wise choice to lean away from her. Then he turned and, Ginny assumed, went to find Angelina. Her annoyance continued to build as tapped her foot. A few people turned to look at her, and she wished she had thrown on a better outfit. When she’d woken up, she’d just thrown on some sweats and an old Harpies shirt that was stretched out around the collar.

Angelina appeared walking around the corner, George just behind her. Ginny’s sister-in-law always looked fabulous. Today was no exception. She was sporting a pair of tight jeans and an AC/DC shirt matched with a pair of black boots. Her braids were pulled up into a top knot that Ginny wished she could pull off.

“Hey,” Angelina said when she reached her. “What’s up?”

Ginny glanced over at her hovering brother. “Let’s take a walk.”

She didn’t bother to see if Angelina followed her as she turned on her heel and headed for the door of the shop. When she walked through the door and headed toward the Leaky Cauldron, Angelina fell into step beside her.

“So, how’s life?” Angelina said.

That wasn’t what she meant Ginny knew. Angelina used small talk as a way to get at the deeper issues; it was all in her tone. It was also one of the reasons Ginny liked her so much.

“Fine,” she answered briskly. “Got a question for you.”

Angelina stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Sure.”

Ginny stopped in front of the Leaky Caldron and faced Angelina. “What was it like when they told you couldn’t play Quidditch anymore?”

Angelina reared back in shock. It wasn’t something that she discussed often, but everyone knew that Angelina had been robbed of a professional Quidditch career before it could begin. She’d been blown back into a wall during the Battle of Hogwarts and taken a lot of damage to her spine. The Healers told her that one wrong hit from a Bludger, and she’d never play walk again.

So, Angelina had chosen a career in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, where she worked on laws that pertained to the sport and sometimes scored tickets to the bigger games throughout the season. Ginny had always wondered though; was she jealous of all those other players? Jealous of the dream she never got to chase? Angelina had never seemed bitter and it always intrigued Ginny.

“I mean, I was upset,” Angelina said, crossing her arms. “I’d trained to become a pro before the war, and it was fucking hard having to give that up.”

“And how did you figure out what you wanted to do after?” she asked.

Angelina shrugged. “I don’t know. The opportunity just kinda presented itself.” Her sister-in-law’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking me all these questions?”

Ginny looked away from her, spotting a young girl coming out of Quality Quidditch Supplies. She was carrying a small broom and talking excitedly with her mother about flying it when she got home.

“You probably already know that I took a bad fall in the last match.” Angelina nodded. “Well, I hit my head pretty hard when I landed, and I had my exam today to clear me to go back on the pitch.” Ginny pushed down the emotion that was rising in her throat. “But the Healer wouldn’t clear me.” She looked down at her feet. “She said that if I went back on the pitch and took a Bludger to the head or had another bad fall, there was a possibility of permanent brain damage.”

“Oh, Gin,” Angelina whispered.

“I don’t want your sympathy,” Ginny said roughly. If she wanted that, she would have gone home to her husband who would have held her while she sobbed about how the world wasn’t fair. What she wanted was to know how she moved on from here. For years, her only dream had been Quidditch. What did you do when your dreams were no longer obtainable?

“I know you don’t,” Angelina said. “But I’ve been there, and it’s . . . one of the worst feelings in the world. To know you were on the edge of having everything you wanted, only for it to be snatched away.” When Angelina grabbed her hands, Ginny finally looked at her. “And I’m so sorry, Ginny. You don’t deserve that.”

“So, tell me how you did it,” Ginny said.

Instead, Angelina pulled her into a hug. Silently, Ginny accepted it, letting the tension slowly leave her body. She had no idea how she was going to get past this. The building blocks of her life were crumbling around her, and though he might try, Harry couldn’t hold them together – no one could. So, Ginny held onto Angelina and buried her face in her neck.

“My life’s over,” she muttered.

“Your life’s not over,” Angelina said softly. “You’ve still got a family that loves you, and a brother who let you talk to his wife even though he thought you were going to beat her up.”

Ginny let out a muffled laugh. “I couldn’t beat you up.”

“You might come closer than you think.” Gently, Angelina untangled herself and offered Ginny a sad smile. “It won’t be easy, and it’s going to suck, but you’ll figure out what’s next. And then this moment will pale in comparison. Your life has just begun, Ginny. I promise.”

Nodding, she wiped at the tears that were still brimming in her eyes. “Yeah, alright.” She sniffed. “You should go before George sends out a search party.”

Angelina snorted. “He’s so overdramatic.”

“But he loves you.”

“Yeah, I guess he does.”

There was a found smile on Angelina’s lips, and Ginny couldn’t help the smile that started to form on her own.

“If you ever need to talk, come see me,” Angelina said. “No matter what time of day or night it is. I’ll be there.”

“I will,” she said. Then she Disapparated just as quickly as she had appeared. When she landed on the front porch of her house she could hear James screaming as Harry laughed. Al’s giggles were probably covered up by his brother and father. As she opened the door, she spotted Harry laying on the floor and James bouncing on his stomach. He was a ball of energy. Al was sitting on the couch laughing as he pointed at James. Merlin, her kids were amazing.

As she slipped inside, a grin overtook her face. Harry hadn’t noticed her, which was unusual because he was very observant, so she took this opportunity to watch them. As Harry reached up to tickle him, James let out a squeal and hopped up, running from the room.

“I’m gonna get you!” Harry shouted after him. James just squealed again and ran faster. Al was lowering himself slowly from the couch. Once he was on the floor, he toddled after his brother.

“You look happy.”

Harry’s head snapped toward her, his eyes softening at the sight of her. He pushed himself onto his elbows but didn’t get up or come towards her. A result of her pulling away from him earlier, no doubt.

“They were asking about you,” he said instead. “Wanted to know when you’d be back because apparently, you’re better at building forts than I am.”

“I am,” Ginny said proudly. She’d had six brothers to teach her how to do it properly. A soft smile settled over Harry’s face as he gazed at her. Within four strides, Ginny was in front of him and then she was over the top of him, sinking down to her knees so she could sit in his lap. Though he was surprised, he quickly recovered as his hands found the bottoms of her thighs. Gently, she rested her forehead against his.

“I know I’m not supposed to ask this,” he said, idly tracing patterns on her thigh. “But are you ok?”

“No,” she said simply. “But I will be.”

As she heard her son’s voice, she thought that maybe Angelina was right. Her life wasn’t over just yet.

#ginny weasley #harry potter #hinny #angelina johnson #george weasley #hp #hp12mom #twelve months of magic

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