#OR WAIT IN A LINE OF PEOPLE WAITING SEVERAL MINUTES AFTER CLOSE WITH ABOUT 30 FUCKING ITEMS

[coweggomelet]

every retail customer die challenge

[weaselle]

it was too much i had to make my own post

line cook here. ACCURATE

if you don't get the hate, here's what you don't understand.

it takes up to 2 hours to close down the kitchen.

The last 60-90 minutes before closing time you do almost no cooking because the restaurant doesn't have many people in it and you've already cooked most of their diners.

So if someone walks in during, like, the last hour, the cook is in the middle of an industrial deep clean of the kitchen.

(these numbers can vary quite a bit from place to place but i have worked several restaurants with these actual times and the concept remains the same)

Say the place closes at 10. If you wait til the restaurant is already closed to start all your cleaning duties, you'll be there until at least midnight.

More than that your boss knows that on an average night you can start your clean up as soon as the last rush ends and get out of there around 10:45, even 10:15 on a slow night if you get lucky. That means there are plenty of restaurants where if you do take until midnight the manager is going to come up to you at some point that week and ask you what went wrong that night, and you'd better have an answer.

So this example restaurant closes at 10 pm. The dinner rush ends around 8:30, and shortly after that the cook is going to start getting every single dish possible over to the dishwasher because the dishwasher always gets hit hard and late, and the machine runs for 2 full minutes and only holds so many dishes, so the way that works out is if you wait an extra 30 minutes to give the dishwasher all your stuff it can mean adding like 60 minutes to the end of his shift. And you're gonna KEEP finding shit to send to the dishpit right up until you leave probably.

all these little square and rectangle containers in this cold table have to be pulled out and changed over into new containers, replaced by new full ones, or in some cases filled from larger containers in the back, which can result in even more empty containers to send to the dishwasher.

while it's all pulled apart to do this, you have to clean up all the spilled food and sauce and juices and stuff from the joints and ledges and shelves and drip trays

Once you get your line changed over in this way, and fully stocked, anytime someone orders something that makes use of a bunch of that stuff, you have to restock and re-clean it some. It might already be covered in plastic. Some of it might already be stuck in the back to make room to take apart your cutting board counter to clean. To cook a dish isn't TOO much of a problem at this point, but you're really hoping for zero orders because you still have so much other cleaning to do.

Meanwhile the salad bar and appetizer section and server station and everybody are all doing the same thing. Even the bartenders are stocking olives and lemons and sending back whisks and stir spoons and shakers and empty 4quart storage containers that used to hold the back-up lemons and olives and things. Every section is dumping their must-be-cleaneds to the dishpit as fast as possible because early and fast is the only thing they can do to to help that dishpit not absolutely drown into overtime.

The poor dishwasher is always the last to clock out, soaking wet and exhausted.

Around this time you probably scrub the flat top, which has turned black from cooked on grease and is still about 500 degrees. Line cooks are divided in opinion on water-based or oil based cleaning methods for this, but they all involve scrubbing with (usually) a brick of pumice stone using every ounce of your strength while you try not to burn yourself

you scrub it from fully blackened to gleaming silver and now if somebody orders something that needs the flat top to cook, you can either fuck up your cleaning job or fake it in a couple frying pans and pass that tiny fuck you down to your dishwasher (who usually understands, especially if you help them take the garbage out or clean your own floor drain later)

If there's deep fried stuff on the menu then the fryers have to be cleaned out, which includes straining the oil out into enormous and super-heavy pots full of oil so hot that if you spill on yourself then it's probably a hospital visit and if you slip and fall face first into it it'll be the last thing you ever do.

Then you gotta scrub out the fryer. Like you gotta take the (hot) screen out and reach your arm down into the weird rounded pipes and curved areas (so hot, burn you if you brush against them hot) and scrub off whatever is down there

Depending on your kitchen you might have to do up to four of these. Then you'll have to pour the (dangerously hot) oil back in

oh, and if you didn't dry the pipes and get ALL the water out of the trap and tank?

water reacts with hot oil in a sort of mentos and coke way that can send a tidal wave of oil past the open flame of the pilot light ...HUGE dangerous mess and/or burn down the kitchen if the oil lights up.

Unless! If the oil has been used too hard and needs to be changed, it's time to carry those open topped super heavy pots full of will-kill-you-hot oil and dump them in the barrel outside by the dumpsters so you can put room temp fresh oil in the fryers. whew!

The clean up is not just some light wiping down that can be easily interrupted, is what i'm saying.

You might have to do some kind of walk-in duty (moving around 50lb cases of lettuce and 50lb bags of onions to get to the stacks of five gallon buckets full of salad dressings and sauces to move so you can reach the giant metal pots and bus tubs full of prep and get it all organized and make sure it's all labeled and i have to stop now i'm having flashbacks)

THE POINT IS

by 15 or however many minutes to close, the line cook is doing an intense deep clean and probably has the whole stove taken apart to detail.

For some industrial stoves this means lifting off large cast iron plates that weigh like 20 lbs each and are still quite hot. Whatever metal burners are on there, you gotta take off and clean, you can see here the lines that indicate the large thick cast iron rectangles that sit on top of the burners to allow heavy pots to rest on. Those five (each has one front burner hole and one back burner hole, see?) have to be lifted off and cleaned with soap and a wire brush usually, and then the underneath area also has to be cleaned because a lot of shit falls through the burner holes on a busy night.

if you didn't do it when you did the flat top you have to do the grease trap (which can be like a full five minutes and is always disgusting).. You gotta clean out all the little gas jets in each burner with a wire or something so the burners all flame evenly, and sometimes you have to remove some of the natural gas piping that connects the burners to access where you have to clean.

you gotta clean out the bottom of the oven and the wire racks, and, oh gods, you gotta take down the filter vents from the hood fans above the stove.

See all the lined parts along the top of the wall?

those are hood vents, and as they pull air up they also pull a lot of grease and they have to be taken down and cleaned, then you gotta climb up there and scrub where they go before you put them back...

And then there's the mopping and floor drains and...

Anyway, that's what the line cook is doing when you walk in fifteen minutes before closing and order something that needs to be cooked on that stove. They are doing an entire industrial cleaning of a professional kitchen.

In some restaurants maybe one or two of these jobs will be every other night or even only twice a week, but in many, possibly most kitchens, ALL of these things happen EVERY night. You don't want to leave any food mess that might attract insects or rodents for one thing, so a really good kitchen is as close to brand new as you can get it every night.

IF YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO ORDER SOMETHING ANYWAY, HERE IS WHAT TO DO

open with an apology and ask the server to go ask what the cook would prefer you to order.

Any good server will already know what the cook is hoping for and what will make their line cook go into the walk in and scream. If it's significantly less than an hour to close and they say some variant of "oh anything is fine" they are either telling the lie their boss wants them to say, or they actually do not know what their line cook wants, and you can either use human connection and a conspiratorial just-between-us tone to get them to drop the customer-is-always-right act, or get them to actually go ask the cook.

It might be as specific as "the lasagna is easiest on the kitchen" or it might be a simple guideline like "nothing that requires the flat top" or "any of the sautés are easy" but a good line cook will probably have a system for if they have to make a couple of the most popular items after they start their close, so the answer is likely to include something most people like and you should be good to order that.

but for the love of all that's holy, please only do so at great need. Leave that last 30-60 minutes to the truly desperate and the crew's duties.

[ktempestbradford]

I have been on a Willy Wonkified journey today and I need y'all to come with me

It started so innocently. Scrolling Google News I come across this article on Ars Technica:

At first glance I thought what happened was parents saw AI-generated images of an event their kids were at and became concerned, then realized it was fake. The reality? Oh so much better.

On Saturday, event organizers shut down a Glasgow-based "Willy's Chocolate Experience" after customers complained that the unofficial Wonka-inspired event, which took place in a sparsely decorated venue, did not match the lush AI-generated images listed on its official website.... According to Sky News, police were called to the event, and "advice was given."

Thing is, the people who paid to go were obviously not expecting exactly this:

But I can see how they'd be a bit pissed upon arriving to this:

It gets worse.

"Tempest, how could it possibly--"

source of this video that also includes this charming description:

Made up a villain called The Unknown — 'an evil chocolate maker who lives in the walls'

There is already a meme.

Oh yes, the Wish.com Oompa Loompa:

Who has already done an interview!

As bad (and hilarious) as this all is, I got curious about the company that put on this event. Did they somehow overreach? Did the actors they hired back out at the last minute? (Or after they saw the script...) Oddly enough, it doesn't seem so!

Given what I found when poking around I'm legit surprised there was an event at all. Cuz this outfit seems to be 100% a scam.

The website for this specific event is here and it has many AI generated images on it, as stated. I don't think anyone who bought tickets looked very closely at these images, otherwise they might have been concerned about how much Catgacating their children would be exposed to.

Yes, Catgacating. You know, CATgacating!

I personally don't think anyone should serve exarserdray flavored lollipops in public spaces given how many people are allergic to it. And the sweet teats might not have been age appropriate.

Though the Twilight Tunnel looks pretty cool:

I'm not sure that Dim Tight Twdrding is safe. I've also been warned that Vivue Sounds are in that weird frequency range that makes you poop your pants upon hearing them.

Yes, Virginia, these folks used an AI image generator for everything on the website and used Chat GPT for some of the text! From the FAQ:

Q: I cannot go on the available days. Will you have more dates in the future? A: Should there be capacity when you arrive, then you will be able to enter without any problems. In the event that this is not the case, we may ask you to wait a bit.

Fear not, for this question is asked again a few lines down and the answer makes more sense.

Curious about the events company behind this disaster, I took myself over to the homepage of House of Illuminati and I was not disappointed.

I would 100% trust these people to plan my wedding.

This abomination of a website is a badly edited WordPress blog filled with AI art and just enough blog posts to make the casual viewer think that it's a legit business for about 0.0004 seconds.

Their attention to detail is stunning, from how they left up the default first post every WP blog gets to how they didn't bother changing the name on several images, thus revealing where they came from. Like this one:

With the lovely and compact filename "DALL·E-2024-01-30-09.50.54-Imagine-a-scene-where-fantasy-and-reality-merge-seamlessly.-In-the-foreground-a-grand-interactive-gala-is-taking-place-filled-with-elegant-guests-i.png"

"Concept.png" came from the same AI generator that gets text almost, but not quiiiiiite right:

There are a suspicious number of .webp images in the uploads, which makes me think they either stole them from other sites where AI "art" was uploaded or they didn't want to pay for the hi-res versions of some and just grabbed the preview image.

The real fun came when I noticed this filename: Before-and-After-Eventologists-Transformation-Edgbaston-Cricket-Ground-1024x1024-1.jpg and decided to do a Google image search. Friends, you will be shocked to hear that the image in question, found on this post touting how they can transform a boring warehouse into a fun event space, was stolen from this actual event planner.

Even better, this weirdly grainy image?

From a post that claims to be about the preparations for a "Willy Wonka" experience (we'll get to this in a minute), is not only NOT an actual image of anyone preparing anything for Illuminati's event, it is stolen from a YouTube thumbnail that's been chopped to remove the name of the company that actually made this. Here's the video.

If you actually read the blog posts they're all copypasta or some AI generated crap. To the point where this seems like not a real business at all. There's very specific business information at the bottom, but nothing else seems real.

As I said, I'm kinda surprised they put on an event at all. This has, "And then they ran off with all our money!" written all over it. I'm perplexed.

And also wondering when the copyright lawyers are gonna start calling, because...

This post explicitly says they're putting together a "Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory Experience" complete with golden tickets.

Somewhere along the line someone must have wised up, because the actual event was called "Willys Chocolate Experience" (note the lack of apostrophe) and the script they handed to the actors about 10 minutes before they were supposed to "perform" was about a "Willy McDuff" and his chocolate factory.

As I was going through this madness with friends in a chat, one pointed out that it took very little prompting to get the free Chat GPT to spit out an event description and such very similar to all this while avoiding copyrighted phrases. But he couldn't figure out where the McDuff came from since it wasn't the type of thing GPT would usually spit out...

Until he altered the prompt to include it would be happening in Glasgow, Scotland.

You cannot make this stuff up.

But truly, honestly, I do not even understand why they didn't take the money and run. Clearly this was all set up to be a scam. A lazy, AI generated scam.

Everything from the website to the event images to the copy to the "script" to the names of things was either stolen or AI generated (aka stolen). Hell, I'd be looking for some poor Japanese visitor wandering the streets of Glasgow, confused, after being jacked for his mascot costume.

HE LIVES IN THE WALLS, Y'ALL.

[aureatelys]

snowflakes in my stomach

pairing: aaron hotchner/non-bau!reader rating: teen+ w.c.: 3k summary:

You work as an elf during photos with Santa at the mall and you spot the extremely attractive man with his son in line.

cw: christmas! fluff! christmas fluff! meet cute, jack hotchner being cute and a little shit, some language, age gap as reader is mid-20s, mentions of haley, working retail, no y/n

also posted on ao3 or below <3

“Where the fuck is Santa?”

You try not to roll your eyes, and you turn from where you were staring at the giant candy cane statue that’s nearly falling apart near Santa’s chair to the man standing several feet away, held back by a red velvet rope barrier. He’s starting to turn red in the face, fists clenching, while his daughter that looks almost way too old to still be taking pictures with Santa is tapping away on her phone.

It's the day before Christmas Eve, thus the last day of Santa and his elves taking pictures with screaming children at the mall. You were already working part time at the mall while you’re in classes and your manager somehow convinced you to help out with the photos for a couple of weeks. Although it was nice to get away from working in retail during the holiday season, you’d much rather be folding clothes for a table you just fixed up 5 minutes ago than deal with these annoying rich parents and their children.

It's nearing 8pm, which means only about 30 minutes left until you’re finally free and can go the fuck home and get out of these ridiculously itchy tights.

“Sir, please don’t curse in front of the children.”

The man’s daughter scoffs at that, barely throws a glare at you, before focusing back on her phone.

You try not to pointedly glance at the other people behind them in line. Since it’s almost closing time, there’s only a couple of people left who are starting to get just as antsy. There’s a woman with a boy who looks about 2-years old and a group of teenagers. What really catches your eye, however, is the older and extremely handsome man at the back of the line with possibly the cutest little 6-year-old boy.

He's very overdressed for the mall; a white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up, an expensive-looking tie, and a suit jacket thrown over an arm, so you assume he just got off work and rushed here after scheduling last minute. He’s tall, nearly towering over everybody else, intimidating, and has dark and stern eyes as he glances at you and the man at the front of the line, eyebrows pinched in concern.

“That doesn’t answer my question! We’ve been waiting here for 15 minutes!”

You grimace. He does have a point.

Your Santa went on break 15 minutes ago, claiming he was taking a 10-minute break, and you tried not to notice the photographer had skipped to follow him. You definitely tried not to notice the obvious ass-grabbing that Santa did on the photographer either.

You try not to sigh too loudly and put on that well-practiced customer service voice and smile. “I’m sure Santa is just taking a cookies and milk break! He’ll be back soon.”

If possible, the man’s face gets even redder. You could almost see the steam blowing out of his ears if you tried hard enough.

“Well, can I get a refund or something? I had to pay a direct deposit on the website and I’m not waiting another 10 minutes,” he gripes, nearly shouting directly in your face.

Your ridiculous elf hat is falling down into your eyes, but that fake customer service smile doesn’t budge. “You’ll have to contact the North Pole for that, sir.”

The man stares at you in disbelief. You smile at him, years of practice of working in retail coming in hand. Customers like him don’t bother you anymore, especially since you are definitely not getting paid enough to wear pointed shoes that are too small for you and jingle every time you move.

You hear a cough from further down the line and when you peer around the man who is absolutely fuming now, you see that older handsome guy cough into his fist, something like a smile quirking at the corners of his pretty mouth. He looks at you then, makes eye contact with you over the head of all the people in line, and quickly looks away due to his son tugging at his sleeve to make him lean down and whisper something in his ear.

You feel giddy all of a sudden. You made a cute guy laugh, and not only that, you can tell just by looking at him that he doesn’t hand those out very often.

Get it together, you’re at work, you think to yourself.

You clear your throat. “I’m sure Santa will be coming back any minute now.”

And because you have no choice until you were done with the very last person in line, you wait.

The Christmas music blaring throughout the mall has faded into white noise at this point. You’re staring at the ridiculously large Santa chair and wishing you were sitting in it, giving your knees and back a break after standing for several hours, and wondering what you’re going to have for dinner tonight when you feel a tug on your dress.

You spin around, about to have some not-so-nice words for that angry man if he’s putting his hands on you, when you look down and see that cute blonde boy peering up at you with pretty brown eyes. He’s dressed in a red and black checkered flannel with his hair sleekly done in a way that you can tell he’s just itching to mess up.

You blink down at him before bending your knees so you’re at his height. You ignore the very audible crack. “What can I do for you, little man?”

“Why aren’t you at the North Pole?” he asks, so innocently that it warms your heart and definitely not stirring up the baby fever you’ve been trying to ignore for the past year.

You genuinely smile at him because, well, how could you not? “Well, Santa wanted me to work here this year, plus I get to see some of you kiddos!”

“My uncle Derek said all the short adults have to work at the North Pole, so why aren’t you there?” he blinks at you.

Before you could react, the little boy is being lifted up and tucked into the arms of his dad. There’s a light dusting of pink on his stern face, softening it, and a comical panicked look in his eyes.

“Jack!” He reprimands, before turning to you. “I’m sorry, he knows better than to repeat things his uncles have said to him.”

His voice is low and deep, almost mesmerizingly so, and your knees almost buckle at the thought of him whispering in your ear. You have to crane your neck up quite a bit to look at him from where you’re still squatting. You put your hands on your knees to stand back up straight, only grunting a little bit from the effort.

“It’s no problem,” you say. “It’s nothing I’ve heard before.”

Even standing to your fullest height, this man towers over you. He’s much more handsome up close, with some loose strands from his gelled hair falling into his forehead, creases at the corner of his eyes, and the sharp slope of his nose. You can barely detect the hints of his cologne, something clean and like sandalwood.

“It’s a good question,” Jack says, surprisingly very sassy than he looks.

His father seems to huff a laugh, like it escaped him before he could control it. It’s a very nice sound, something you would be fine with hearing over and over again.

You nod. “I’m sure it’s not Jack’s fault since he’s around very tall people all the time, right?”

Jack nods emphatically while his father looks exasperated but extremely affectionate at the same time. He bends to put Jack down, now sure that he isn’t going to cause any more trouble. The glint in the boy’s eyes tells you otherwise.

You break your gaze from the way you can see the older man’s biceps flex underneath his sleeves, his forearms because holy shit, and notice that everyone else in line besides Jack and his father were gone. Even the infuriating angry guy.

The last-minute Christmas shopping crowd has started to dwindle down as well, with some stores even starting to close earlier than usual so the employees can assumedly escape the traffic and spend the rest of the night at home.

And yet, you’re still here wearing striped leggings that you are sure is what’s causing your rash on your thigh, a green dress that is absolutely doing nothing for your figure, and a stupid fucking elf hat. Standing next to probably the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life.

“I’m sorry about the wait,” you say, because honestly this is getting ridiculous. How long can they be fucking for?

The extremely hot man looks up from where he’s tapping away a text. You try not to ogle at how his hands dwarf his cellphone and instead try to make polite eye contact. He has warm golden-brown eyes that make you feel only a little stupid.

“It’s fine. As long as we can get his picture still taken.” He nods towards Jack, who is definitely starting to look a bit restless by the way he’s shifting his weight back and forth and wringing his hands.

“I’ll make sure we stay and get you guys, I promise,” you say, despite the fact that you have no authority to promise or make everyone else stay late. You’re feeling a little flustered, okay, you can’t help it.

You’re thinking that this guy is going to go back to his phone or completely ignore you to talk to his son, do something that shows he’s not interested in talking to a 25-year-old wearing an elf costume, so you’re awfully surprised when he gives you a devastating handsome smile and showing off an equally devastatingly cute dimple and says “Jack’s been waiting for this all month.”

“Oh yeah?” You smile down at Jack who looks suddenly shy. “A family tradition, I assume?”

The little boy nods, making some pieces of his hair come loose and fall against his forehead. “Daddy always makes sure we don’t miss it ever since Mommy died.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you say. You flounder a bit because, although you understand that kids at this age are unapologetically blunt and you’re used to customers oversharing while working in retail, you were not expecting to learn about this family’s trauma today. “Well, your daddy must love you a lot then, huh?”

You look up to see his father looking absolutely horrified, embarrassment clear on his face. There’s a faint shade of pink again on his face that disappears underneath his shirt collar and you almost feel bad for him, however you can’t deny that he’s cute when he looks like he wants to crawl into a hole and never come out.

“Yep,” Jack responds cheerfully, and then is instantly distracted by that damn horn blaring through the mall, signifying the arrival of that godforsaken eyesore they call an indoor train. It takes up nearly the whole walkway of the mall, causing him and his father to scoot further in line and closer to you. The back of his hand brushes against yours.  

“I am,” the man says again, slowly, as if he was in pain, “so sorry.” From the expression he was wearing, you would probably think he was.

You wave his apology off with a jingle. “Really, it’s fine. I know how kids are. You’re just lucky he’s so cute.”

The man says nothing; however, you can see the mortification melt from his face as both of you watch Jack’s eyes slowly following the train as it wraps around the area roped off for pictures. He’s nearly jumping from how much he secretly wants to ride the train, a smile wide across his face and sparkling eyes that match his father’s. Oh, you need to get a grip.

“So, any plans for tomorrow?” you ask and nearly cringe at your awkward attempt to make conversation. It’s getting late, Santa is who knows where, and you’re basically holding this attractive man and his son hostage at the mall.

His gaze breaks from where he was watching Jack, the fatherly warmth and smile on his face still lingering. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks at you. You try not to squirm under his scrutinizing eyes. “We’re just spending time with some family and friends, something small.”

You feel a bit envious. Of course, this man has a family and friends to spend time with for the holidays, he probably has a life as opposed to you. You definitely don’t have plans, unless you count staying in your pajamas for two days straight in front of the TV to watch bad Hallmark movies a plan. You almost wish the mall was open so you could work and keep yourself busy and not think about the aching loneliness you feel every year.

“The more people you see at Christmas, the more presents, right Jack?”

“Right!” Jack says, attention captured as the train disappeared out of view. “And I’m seeing Santa right before he comes to the house so he can’t forget about me!”

You laugh, because he’s just so stinking cute. “And what are you wanting this year?”

Jack immediately starts rambling about how he’s hoping to get a Spiderman action figure with the matching racecar, a scooter, a nerf gun, and other toys a typical 6-year-old would want. You nod along and pretend to take notes on the prop clipboard you were given.

You ignore the older man’s curious stare you can feel boring into the side of your head. You thought it wasn’t noticeable that you clearly avoided saying what you were going to be doing for the holidays, though when you finally meet his eyes, you have a feeling that nothing gets by this man.

You jump at a sudden clatter to your left, and when you tear yourself from the man’s pretty eyes, you see your Santa and the photographer stumbling through the props and knocking over the fake presents stacked on top of each other. Santa is thankfully wearing all of his costume; however, his beard is crooked, and the photographer’s clothes are inside out.

“That was a long milk and cookies break,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes.

Jack squeals when he spots them, jumping up and down and tugging on his father’s hand. The man gives him that affectionate smile again and you just want to melt.

Santa, you call him because you don’t remember his name but also you definitely shouldn’t call him by his real name anyway, fakes a deep and hearty laugh. He sits down at the comically large armchair and discreetly fixes his beard. “I just had a big ol’ craving. I’m sorry, kiddo.”

Jack ducks underneath the barricade and starts running at Santa, leaving his father flustered and jogging after him.

“Sorry about that,” the photographer whispers to you and doesn’t even wait for your response before she’s behind the camera stand and adjusting the settings.

It doesn’t even matter, because you’re watching Jack hop onto Santa’s lap, already continuing his rambling about what he is wanting for Christmas. He’s clearly ignoring his father’s gentle suggestions on how to pose and to fix his shirt, altogether sounding very endearing and fond.

You watch as his father ultimately gives up, surprisingly looks at you with an exasperated smile, and takes out his phone to take his own pictures of Jack. The boy eventually finishes what he has to say, almost looking out of breath, and gives the camera the toothiest and silliest smile you have ever seen.

“Great job, buddy!” you exclaim and then feel your heart being squeezed when Jack runs up to you and gives you a hug around your shins.

“I hope you have a good vacation after Christmas,” Jack says seriously. He looks up at you, death grip on your legs unwavering. “You’ve worked hard this year.”

If Jack wasn’t clearly talking about you working as an elf at Santa’s workshop, you probably would’ve teared up.

Instead, you give him a smile and a pat on the top of his head. “Thanks, Jack. Merry Christmas.”

His father is behind him a second later, folder in hand with Jack’s prints. He’s looking at the both of you now with that soft expression you’re starting to become familiar with. The love he has for his son is clear as day. “Hey buddy, we gotta get home.” 

“Can we get pizza on the way?” Jack gasps excitedly, letting go of your legs to reach a hand out for his father’s.

He hums and pretends to think about it. “We’ll see. I just have to talk to our new friend here.”

And then he’s stepping closer into your space and meeting your eyes. You get a whiff of his cologne again and you feel like you’re about to combust on the spot.

“I’m Aaron, and this, obviously, is Jack. I wanted to see if wanted to go out for dinner or a coffee sometime? After Christmas?”

You stare at him, a million emotions and thoughts racing through your head all at once. This man, who is at least 15 years older than you and is way out of your league, is interested in you, a college student who has no friends and is currently wearing a frumpy green dress and red and green striped leggings?

Aaron doesn’t break eye contact with you, most likely to indicate to you that he’s being sincere, however you can tell he’s blushing again. Nervous.

You stammer out your name, though you can barely hear yourself over the rush of blood in your ears. “I would love that.”

You watch as Aaron nearly sighs in relief and the action, the thought that he feels relieved because you’re showing equal interest, is exhilarating. He hands his phone to you and you punch in your number. You’re almost tempted to add your contact info as something silly or funny, but instead just adds a smiley face at the end.

Aaron chuckles when he spots it and pockets his phone. The softness and want in his eyes are almost overwhelming, and the way more of his hair flops against his forehead makes you want to put your hands all over him “I’ll call you?”

“Sure,” you breathe. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Both of you pointedly ignore Jack’s giggle as he watches.

[linkhundr]

Amsterdam 2 was a very special and wonderful experience but I find it really really jaded by the way the crowd was acting, wow. so many people thinking they had main character moments lmao!!!

Queueing at 12:45 AM is absolutely insane behavior (and none of them were Dutch either) The fact I showed up at 7:30 feeling bad for being so early and still being 19th is crazy

the absolute complete and utter insanity that was trying to get Jere's attention and give him stuff both during yaps and during songs, the latter being especially offensive. everyone wants to party and sing along and you just screaming his name trying to give him a money gun completely kills any and all vibes. i don't think i understood many of his yaps because i just had people yelling and reaching over me to try and get his attention. it aint about you!!! the instant reaching for him the second he gets close to the edge of stage is weird ass behavior and he didn't do his usual rush past the crowd after the show which in part i would think is because so many were being fucking weirdos!!

People leaving absolute mountains of trash and other stuff around the waiting area when the real line started

Pregaming so hard several were already completely blasted before the venue even opened

Standing at the front/barricade, hands on the stage, watching footage on their phones of Finnish gigs where they were at barricade, as people from different countries other than the Netherlands was a real slap in the face lmao - especially as they completely ignored any attempt at kind small talk at them. y'all just looked arrogant as fuck

group of gals just lying through their teeth waltzing in mid-gig in 3rd row saying they had already been standing there. girl, the 10 people surrounding you havent moved in 90 minutes, just be honest and say you want a better view

being blasted with a screen that says not to throw shit on stage for 90 minutes and then still throwing shit on stage lmao

why in gods name would you raise your hand if youre not dutch when he's asking for a dutch person to sing a famous dutch song (and so many just singing trafik lol)

the way first to third row was completely packed together and pushed forward before even a fifth of total capacity had been let into the hall - and if you didnt shuffle forward you'd be pushed back a couple rows

folks need a lecture in concert etiquette lmfao. might straight up skip amsterdam shows in the future despite living there because Brussels had infinitely better vibes in the crowd and queue than whatever the hell was going on here

[moon-and2saturn]

Part Of The Band

j.t.k x f.reader

part one

a/n: this is my first time writing Jake and I have to admit that it’s been so intimidating. he was the one I was soooo scared to write, since he’s my main lane. I plan to make this into a series, so I really hope you all enjoy it :)

word count: 5k

summary: your best friend asks you to come with her to a concert for a band that you’re unfamiliar with. your decision to go proves to have more repercussions than you thought when you run into the band at your favorite bar after the show. you never would have imagined the pull that you’d feel toward their guitarist, or that you would somehow manage to capture his attention…

warnings: yearning, some cussing, mentions of alcohol, smoking. some parts are slightly sexually implicit, including: light groping, kissing, and some sexual language. minors beware! the next part will definitely contain smut.

You’ve never been one to pass up on a night out, especially if it involves music. Music is something that you actively search for constantly, it defines you. You’d do anything to just be able to listen to live music, to close your eyes and just feel it flow through your body. Since you lack any actual musical talent besides half-decent singing, you just listen to it as much as you can.

So, when your roommate and best friend, Sophie, asked you to come with her to a concert tonight last minute, you could hardly just say no. Did you have a big midterm tomorrow afternoon that you needed to study for? Maybe. But live music always comes first. Sophie was always finding last-minute concerts for you to go to together- it was kind of your thing. This time, however, it was a band you didn’t really know.

You’re pretty sure you’ve heard one of their singles, Heat Above, online somewhere a few times but that was the most knowledge you had of Greta Van Fleet. You don’t know much about their background or their names, just that they make rock music and that’s all you need to be convinced to go. You and Sophie had always found yourselves at the Greek Theatre for just about any kind of concert, so this wasn’t a new thing for you.

The show is meant to start at 7:00 pm, but Sophie is always determined to be as close to the stage as possible, so you’re getting ready in the afternoon to get there around 2:30 or 3 o’clock. In the name of comfortability, you opt to wear ripped black skinny jeans, a white halter top, and your Doc Martens. You keep your hair down, wavy and lying right below your shoulders. You put on some simple makeup, just to cover up any blemishes you might have, do some tight-lined eyeliner, and put on a bit of your favorite silver eyeshadow. You take a deep breath. Okay, you’re ready.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

Sophie calls your Uber over to the Greek and you both arrive there just in time. You see about 50 people there already, so you both know that you’ll have a great spot in the small pit. You guys sit down at the end of the line and make yourselves comfortable to wait in the line for several hours until you’re let into the venue. Late October in LA can be pretty comfortable, today is in the mid-70s, so it isn’t a terrible day to camp out. You and Sophie talk about schoolwork, gossip about your friends, and play various games until it’s suddenly 6 o’clock and it’s time to head into the venue.

The group walks down the steps of the Greek and security has the line start all the way to the left of the pit. You and Sophie end up standing toward the front of the right side of the stage, which you’re perfectly content with. It’s not long before the openers come on- they were all great. The energy in the theatre was amazing and the weather was beautiful, it was like a dream.

Next thing you know, the lights go out and it’s pitch black. The crowd goes wild, screaming for the band to come out. Ominous music starts to play over the speakers and a short video plays on the screens on the sides of the stage. You can tell that the band enjoyed building suspense and it certainly works.

Suddenly, you see a dark silhouette emerge from stage left and appear right in front of your gaze. He’s holding a guitar, stepping up to the front of the stage where you assume his pedals are, and strikes a loud chord, bringing everyone’s attention to him. The lights turn up, with a sole spotlight on him, as he starts to play a dark, hypnotizing melody that almost takes the air out of your lungs. You turn your focus to the drummer and keyboardist entering the stage now, adding to the mix and making the sound grow even larger and darker than before.

The crowd then screams as the singer walks out with an enormous smile on his face. You can immediately tell what fans would love about him, he exudes brightness and kindness from the second you look at him. He begins vocalizing and you’re taken aback by his singing abilities, his voice is truly amazing.

The first verse begins and you decide to turn your attention back to the guitarist. You study the way he moves on stage; how he walks upstage then downstage with this confident strut that you can’t help but feel mesmerized by. You notice a theme of blue in their outfits but are drawn specifically to the design on the guitarist’s suit, covered in stars and astrological symbols of the Taurus, paired with dark boots. It’s honestly beautiful.

As you’re admiring what he’s wearing, you take a moment to truly look at him. He has long brown hair with a slight wave to it, falling an inch or two below his collarbones. His eyebrows are dark and quite thick, knit tightly as he’s concentrating on what he’s playing. His eyes are equally as dark, though it's hard to tell their exact hue from this many feet away.

You catch yourself staring for too long and want to make the effort to shift your eyes elsewhere and as you do, his eyes meet yours. It’s a concert, of course the band is going to make eye contact with their fans, it’s a small pit. But he seems to hold his gaze for several seconds to the point where you think he might actually be looking at you specifically. You give him a shy smile, which he returns, and then moves on with the song.

The rest of the song continues and you think you’re really starting to like Greta Van Fleet, the music is truly fantastic. The singer’s voice is beautiful and like nothing you’ve ever heard before. Suddenly he stops and the guitarist approaches the end of the stage, seemingly for his guitar solo. It’s nothing short of amazing, the way that he plays the guitar is so captivating, it’s like your eyes can’t look away.

You hear the crowd go insane for it, screaming things like “Yeah Jake!” “Do it, Jakey!�� “Fuck it up!!” and you’re sure that he’s eating it all up. Jake, you think to yourself. Interesting. It becomes clear that the girls go crazy for him and you know that must give him some sort of complex. He seems so confident and you can’t blame him, with all the praise that he’s receiving- praise that is very well-deserved.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

All of the following songs go the same exact way. You can’t seem to take your eyes off of Jake. You’ve also deeply fallen in love with their music and the love that it emits. You feel very glad about your decision to go to the concert tonight- you can feel that this has changed the course of your life in some way. Throughout the show, you notice that sometimes Jake would catch you watching him, which you didn’t mind. Surely he was used to being watched on stage like that, in amazement and admiration. You truly do admire him and his talent, it’s something very special. All of his riffs are so satisfying to hear and the chords blend so perfectly.

Once the encore ends, the band goes to leave the stage. You watch Jake as he walks toward the end of the stage, which you assume is to hand out his guitar picks before leaving for the night. Much to your surprise, he looks right at you as he leans over and tosses it to you. Your cheeks turn a shade of pink and you look up at him, smiling and thanking him. What a night to remember. You think that this would be it, but you are dead wrong.

You and Sophie turn to exit the pit, which takes some time considering how close you are to the front. You’re eventually able to exit the theatre and wait on the sidewalk for a game plan. “So… you wanna go to the Tavern?” Sophie asks. The Tavern is your go-to bar in Beverly Hills; it has a good atmosphere, great cocktails, and isn’t too far from campus. You and Sophie go there at least once every weekend, they all know your names there. You glare at her with a concerned look, “Soph, I have such a big exam tomorrow, are you serious?” She rolls her eyes, “Come on! Live a little! You’re telling me you don’t wanna at least get a little drunk to take your mind off of it? We just saw an amazing show, let’s go celebrate!”

Sophie always knew how to convince you to do anything, no matter what it was. She knew your weaknesses every time. You groan, “Ugh, fine. But if you have to wake my ass up tomorrow at 2 pm for my exam because I’m too hungover, you'll have no one to blame but yourself.” She smiles wide and says “I know, I know. I’ve already called the Uber to take us there now.” Cheeky girl, she knew she’d convince you.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

It's already midnight by the time you arrive at the Tavern. The last call is always at 1 am so you know that you won't be there too long. You both walk in and find your favorite booth in the back, placing your jackets down before going up to the bar to order your drinks. Sophie orders you both a shot of tequila, then gets herself a margarita. You order a bourbon punch and turn back to take a seat in your booth. You both take your shots when you sit down, then you debrief tonight’s events.

“So, what did you think of the band? Did you like them?” Sophie asks.

“Yeah, it was amazing actually. I don’t know how I hadn’t found them before now. The music that they make is extraordinary,” you reply with a smile. You do have some questions, though. “So what’s their deal? The lore?”

“Oh, well they’re from Michigan. They’re actually brothers, besides the drummer- though they all grew up together. Josh, the singer, and Jake, the guitarist, are twins.” You nod your head. I did think they looked alike, you think to yourself. “Sam is their younger brother, and Danny is his best friend. They’ve been making music for a while but they blew up a lot in like 2019 and then this new album skyrocketed their fame.”

“Well, that doesn’t surprise me. This album is absolutely breathtaking. From what I heard tonight, their music is so mind-blowing. It really took my breath away,” you explain.

“I knew you'd love it. I’m so glad that you’re into them now. Especially Jake, it seemed,” she smirked.

You reach over to smack her on the arm and exclaim, “Sophie! That’s crazy! I don’t know where you got that idea! I was not into him.” The blush that’s made its way to your face tells a different story, however.

“You so were! You couldn’t take your eyes off of him that entire show, I watched you. I think he might’ve been looking at you too, you know,” she jests. Just the thought that Jake might have been actually interested in you made your stomach turn. You shake your head.

“No, Soph. There’s no way. Sure, we might have locked eyes once or twice, but there were thousands of people there. I’m sure he looks at all of his fans like that…” you trail off, wanting to shut this conversation down as soon as possible to save yourself from any further embarrassment. You pick up your glass, which is half empty, then chug the whole thing. “Oh, look at that, my drink is gone. I’m gonna go get another, I’ll be back.” You smirk at her, successfully avoiding the conversation for now, and then get up from your seat to walk back to the bar.

As you approach the bar, there’s a group of men leaning against it, ordering drinks. You go to stand on the right of them to wait your turn and the man next to you senses your presence and turns to look at you. As he turns in your direction, you see the long chestnut hair and are met with dark chocolate eyes. You’re immediately hit with the realization: Oh my god. It’s Jake.

He looks at you and offers a soft smile as a greeting. “Hi…” you manage to let out, looking up at him. “Hey,” he replies. You glance behind him and see the rest of the band. Oh my GOD. Greta Van Fleet is at my bar. You just stand there leaning against the bar for a moment looking at him, unsure of what to say next. You find yourself looking him up and down, analyzing what he’s wearing off the stage.

He has on a different pair of boots now, a light brown color. He's wearing some tattered blue jeans and a navy blue, long-sleeved button-up shirt, of which the top four buttons are undone, leaving his upper chest partially exposed. The lighting in the Tavern reflects off of it in such a mesmerizing way. You realize that you’ve been staring for far too long and go to say something, but luckily he beats you to it.

“Were you at our show tonight? I think I remember your face…” Jake says, looking into your eyes as though he’s piercing right into your soul, studying you. You feel stuck, though you’re not sure why. Up until today, you weren’t a fan of theirs and you wouldn’t have thought anything about this interaction at all whatsoever. So why were you so flustered? You finally work up the courage to answer.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I was there. It was… spectacular,” you say with a shy smile, finally meeting his gaze. He smiles back at you when your attention is suddenly pulled away by the sound of a loud voice coming from behind him.

“You really liked it? I’m so glad. I get so in my head sometimes, y’know, I was so nervous. So it’s lovely to hear that I didn’t totally crash and burn.” The man that you now understand to be Jake’s curly-headed twin reaches over the bar past Jake and extends his hand out to you. “I’m Josh, by the way,” he adds with a wide smile. You reach your hand out to shake his, in total shock that this is actually happening.

“Hi, Josh. I’m Y/N, which I was just about to tell your brother here…” you joke, making him realize that he’d accidentally interrupted something. He makes an “oh that’s awkward” kind of face and pulls at his collar, causing you to laugh. Jake watches as you interact with his twin with a look on his face that you can’t quite place. Like he’s trying to figure you out.

“Sorry about him, Y/N, sometimes he just speaks first and then thinks after,” you hear from further down the bar. You look up to see that voice coming from Sam next to him, who gets a shove from his older brother and erupts into contagious laughter. You watch Danny shake his head, chuckling, and you laugh along with them. Jake looks over at you, smiling. You smile back at him and he speaks up, drawing your attention back to him and him alone.

“What are you drinking, Y/N?” he asks. “Oh, um, a bourbon punch,” you answer. “Another bourbon punch for this lovely lady here, please,” he says to the bartender, “You can put it on my tab.” You look at him in shock and try to protest but he sees it coming, saying “No, I insist. As a thank you, for your support and for making my brother happy for a moment there with your compliment- he’s easy to please.”

He leans one arm onto the counter and smirks at you as the bartender places your drink down in front of you. “Cheers, sweetheart,” Jake says, raising his glass to yours. You glance down at the glass to see what he’s drinking, which seems to be whisky, neat. It suits him. You smile at him and say “Cheers” and take a sip of your fresh drink. His eyes are looking into yours so intently that it almost feels like they’re burning into you. Something about him is so intriguing yet slightly intimidating that you want to learn more.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

“Are you here alone?” he asks. “Oh, no, I’m here with a friend. She’s back there at our table.” Jake looks behind you to see Sophie, who has been intently watching this entire interaction unfold. He smiles and gives her a little wave to come over, so she stands up and comes up to the bar. “Would you both like to join us for a round? We have a larger booth upstairs with a few of our friends.” His eyes look down at you for an answer, waiting and hoping for a yes. Before you can answer, Sophie chimes in to answer for you, “We’d love to!” she says, elbowing your side to encourage you to agree and you nod along. “Yeah, sure, we can stay for a bit longer,” you reply, looking up at Jake, who seems satisfied with that answer.

The rest of the guys get their drinks and you follow them up the winding staircase to the large booth that they reserved. When you arrive at the table, you see a few other people waiting there whom you assume to be part of their management, security, and some personal friends. Danny and Sam slide in first to the left to join their friends and Josh goes for an open spot on the right side. Jake extends his hand out, offering for you to take a seat between them, and then slides in on the left next to you. Sophie opts to sit next to Sam on the end, across from you.

You both introduce yourselves to the rest of the group. Their friends seem unsurprised that they managed to make friends in the short time they’ve been in the bar. From the few minutes you’ve spent with them, you can tell that their social and charismatic tendencies would likely often lead to new friendships everywhere they go. It’s something you’re starting to admire about them.

As you’re getting to know the group, it’s impossible not to notice Jake’s eyes on you. He’s studying you as you speak, watching the way your lips move and admiring you. It’s difficult to ignore, though you try your best to. He starts speaking and you turn your head to look at him, taking the time to look him over as well. You look at his eyes, mostly, a mesmerizing dark chocolate color that turns into amber when the light touches them. His nose is straight and pointed, his lips look soft and full.

He catches you staring at him, just for a moment, and uses the opportunity to place his right hand on your knee, exposed by the large rips in your jeans, rubbing small circles on top of it. It makes you jump a little at first touch, startled by his actions. You couldn’t believe this was real life. You look up at him and you both lock eyes. It falls silent for a moment and Josh starts a conversation with Daniel across the table, everyone else engaging and chiming in. Jake takes this opportunity to lean into your ear a bit to talk to you on his own, which he’s been dying to do.

“I know you were watching me earlier, at the show…” he whispers in your ear, loud enough only for you to hear. Your heart nearly stops, but he continues. “It’s okay, you know, I don’t mind it. If anything, I kind of liked it,” he says, his breath feeling hot on your skin. “Maybe I was,” you answer shyly, turning your face toward him a bit so that he can hear you more clearly. Your eyes meet and you watch as his eyes quickly dart to your lips, then back up to look at you once more.

“I was watching you too,” he says, sliding his hand a bit higher above your knee, resting on your inner thigh, slightly gripping it. “Watching you study me… and how my fingers worshipped the strings…” he continues, leaning closer to your ear, his lips grazing lightly over it. Shivers run down your back and continue down toward your core, causing you to silently yearn for more. You inhale deeply, then ask “And what did you think about that, Jake?” saying his name in a honeyed tone, causing him to squeeze your thigh and look deep into your eyes, piercing through them. You knew exactly what he was thinking, but you wanted to hear him say it. You wanted to be absolutely sure that what you thought was about to happen was actually happening.

“Do you wanna go outside for a smoke, Y/N?” Jake asks, slightly loud enough so that the others can hear. Sophie looks at you, smirking; she clearly can tell exactly what’s going on. She nods at you, encouraging you to go. “Uh, yeah Jake, sure,” you mutter, a bit awkwardly. You weren’t expecting him to try and get you alone, you had felt all this time that he was just playing with you. It’s clear now, though, that this was not a game.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

He stands up from the booth and offers his hand to help you up as well. Despite the dark aura that surrounds him, he still appears to be quite the gentleman. You stand up from the booth, shoot Sophie a nervous look, and then turn around to head back down the stairs. Jake follows closely behind you.

You get to the bottom of the stairs and head to the back of the Tavern to go out the back door, to the smoking area. It’s an outdoor patio behind the bar, illuminated with low-lit string lights and decorated with some picnic tables with a few ashtrays. You exit through the door and turn around to face him as the door closes silently behind him. His eyes are darker now, piercing into you as he approaches you. You back up slowly until the backs of your legs hit one of the tables and then sit on the edge of it while Jake takes out a pack of Marlboro Reds and a black lighter from his back pocket.

He pulls a cigarette out of the pack, places it between his lips, and then brings the lighter up to light it. He takes a long drag out of it and blows it to the side, avoiding blowing any smoke in your face, then steps closer to you until he’s standing between your legs, only inches away from you. He puts the cigarette down to sit on the ashtray for a moment and he finally speaks.

“Y/N/ I can’t seem to stop thinking about you. You’ve captivated me from the second the lights turned up on that stage tonight. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you…” he says, bringing his hand up to your cheek and running his thumb along your cheek. He’s watching your eyes, how they look up at him with anticipation, waiting for him. He can feel the power that he has over you.

“I can’t stop thinking about you either… Seeing you for the first time on stage tonight has caused you to completely take over my thoughts ever since. No matter how hard I tried to watch the others, my eyes kept getting drawn right back to you. It was like I couldn’t control it,” you say, glancing down at his lips and then back to his eyes longingly. “I don’t feel like I can control myself around you, baby… I’m being tempted to throw out all of my rules for you,” Jake says in a low whisper, bringing his face closer to yours.

Your eyes look up at his, pleading. He can’t hold himself back anymore, finally closing the gap between you. He kisses you so deeply that it takes the air out of your lungs. He leans into you and his hand that was once on your cheek grasps the back of your neck tightly, causing you to let out a quiet whimper. Just the sound of it lights a fire within him, he takes his other hand to hold your hip in place and groans into your mouth. You place your hands around his neck and pull him closer to you, your bodies now flush together.

Jake pulls away, his face still only a few inches from yours, and tries to catch his breath. His left hand squeezes your hip as the other leaves your neck in order to reach behind you to grab his cigarette, still lit. He takes a drag from it blowing it to the side, but keeps his eyes locked on yours and watches as you stare at his lips when he blows the smoke out. He takes note of your interest in the way he’s blowing the smoke and says, “Open your mouth.”

You immediately obey, knowing you’d do anything he asks you to, and open your mouth. He takes another drag of the cigarette and kisses you again, blowing the smoke into your mouth and you breathe it in as you lean into the kiss. This elicits another moan from him, clearly turned on by the act. He leans into you harder and bucks his hips into you slightly, trying to release some tension. You moan quietly into his mouth at the sensation, your desire starting to pulsate between your legs.

His lips leave your mouth and place kisses along your jaw then down your neck, causing you to let out a small sigh. “You don’t even know what you do to me, sweetheart,” Jake mutters against your skin. He brings his mouth back to yours and kisses you once more, but you pull yourself away.

“Jake… I want this. I want you, but… not now.” He looks disappointed by your words but backs away slightly, sliding both of his hands down to your waist. “I’m sorry, I just- I have this big exam tomorrow and I’ve already stayed out so much later than I ever even intended to. I have to go home.”

He nods his head in understanding, then it seems like a lightbulb lights up in his head. He smiles and says, “Come to the show tomorrow night, then. Please… I need to see you again. I want to see you front and center when I play.” You’re taken aback completely at his kind offer. You know you need to see him again too, and you’d like nothing more than to watch them perform again. You nod your head, “Oh, Jake. I would love to go. That’s so sweet,” you say, smiling bashfully. Jake’s face lights up at your answer, “It’s gonna be a great show, baby. You won’t regret it. I’ll have Jenn email you the tickets as soon as we get back to our hotel, one for Sophie too.” You thank him and place a soft peck on his cheek, causing a hue of pink to form there. You both go back inside and return to your friends upstairs.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

“Soph, you ready to go home?” you ask her. “I really gotta get up for this midterm tomorrow,” you explain to the others, who all nod and wish you luck. Sophie nods and says goodnight to everyone. Jake offers to walk you both out to the bus stop to wait for the bus to take you back to your apartment. Sophie goes to sit on the bench as you wait a bit behind with Jake.

He places a soft goodnight kiss on your lips and you hum into it and smile as he brings his hand up to cup your cheek. “Here, let me see your phone,” he says, taking it and typing in his phone number, putting his contact name as “Sir Jacob ⚔️”, which makes you giggle. “Text me when you make it home safe, sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says with a smirk. “See you tomorrow, Jake,” you reply as he turns back to the front door of the Tavern. He turns back around and gives you a soft smile, and you wave goodbye before he goes back inside.

You turn around and sit down on the bench next to Sophie, who finally wants to know all of the details. The bus arrives and you fill her in on everything on the ride home, causing her to laugh and scream in excitement, much to the dismay of the other exhausted people who are on the city bus at one o’clock in the morning. You tell her that he’s sending you tickets for both of you to go to the next show tomorrow night and that he’s asking security to put you in the front row, which she is so psyched about.

You both finally arrive home and you take your makeup off, put some comfier clothes on, and collapse into bed. What a night, you think to yourself. It was nothing like you ever could have imagined. You turn over and plug your phone in, then open up the messages app and type in “Sir Jacob ⚔️”.

You: home safe <3

Sir Jacob ⚔️: Good. Sweet dreams, beautiful.

You: goodnight, jake

You place your phone down on your bedside table and flop down on your back, letting out a long sigh. You think about your exam tomorrow and the excitement that will come thereafter. You wonder where tomorrow night will lead you as you close your eyes and try to fall asleep. God, what have I gotten myself into?

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

this story will be continued... comment to be added to the taglist! thank you so much for reading!

part two

[pedge-stuff]

trailer reunion (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked," as always. this one skews a little more m! and a little less gn!, apologies if that puts anyone off.

thanks, as always, for everything.

summary: 5 weeks is a long, long time.

——————————————————————————

Your leg won’t stop bouncing. It’s not your fault, really— it’s the Edmonton Airport’s, for having such a conveniently located Tim Hortons, right outside the baggage claim. After the 7-hour red eye from JFK, with the connection through Toronto, the coffee was necessary.

The caffeine isn’t entirely to blame, though. If the taxi wouldn’t stop going so fucking slow, maybe you’d settle down. But the traffic is unyielding, so the 20 minute drive to your heartfelt reunion is looking more like 45. Apparently, shutting part of the city down to film a TV show really screws up peoples’ commutes. You’d waited long enough (a month and six days, but who’s counting?), surely an extra half-hour won’t kill you. But in the taxi, the minutes seem to stretch into years.

The filming schedule for The Last of Us has been brutal. From what Pedro has told you, there was apparently a strain to film both the first and second episode back-to-back; something about using the same locations and exterior shots. For him, it has meant a marathon of shooting… the only downside to being the star of the show.

SNL’s new season was in full swing anyways, so you’d had plenty to keep you busy. Spent enough late nights at 30 Rock, after many a panicked call to the dog walker, that you barely had to inhabit his otherwise vacant condo. You talked every night, usually Facetiming before bed, but the distance was wearing on you both.

Now, the only thing in between you and your man is this fucking traffic jam.

Though this wasn’t a surprise visit— you’d booked the flight as soon as you’d realized the SNL hiatus week lined up with The Last of Us breaking to change locations for the next episode— you did have one trick up your sleeve. Or, more accurately, under your mask.

You’d been attempting to grow facial hair well before meeting Pedro, but it had been a sparse and largely unsuccessful endeavor until very recently. Your jawline had filled in between your sideburn and chin, albeit slightly patchy. You’d been hiding it over Facetime, opting for regular calls a bit more and hoping he wouldn’t notice. Not the craziest surprise, but still, your heart thrums at the prospect of finally sharing it with him.

Of course, once you arrive to set, the obstacles multiply.

Some college kid in a neon yellow vest stops you before you’ve even managed to remove your duffle from the trunk of the cab.

“Covid testing is this way, please follow me,” he insists tersely. Self-consciously, you adjust the KN95 strap around your ear.

The kid leads you to a tent, where two people in full white hazmat suits, complete with gloves and face shields, ask your name and instruct you to pull down your mask. (There’s a joke in there somewhere, about infection at a show about infected, but you get the sense it might be inappropriate to fool around here.)

Once swabbed and registered, you move to leave, scanning the exit for anyone who might be able to help you navigate onto set. But you are immediately blocked by a hazmat woman.

“You need to wait for the rapid to clear,” she insists, pointing to a row of folding chairs. “Fifteen minutes.”

Fifteen minutes, after 5 weeks. Just fifteen minutes. You resign yourself to a seat by the door.

It’s 4pm. You were supposed to have arrived during a stop down between shots— timed so that Pedro would be in his trailer, and accessible, when you arrived. It feels like that window is physically, tangibly closing as you watch the second-hand tick slowly. 

 Initially, you’d been hesitant to join him on set at all, but he’d insisted you come meet his “second family.” You’d met several of his colleagues via Facetime, when he’d called you from his trailer. Bella, in particular, you’ve taken a liking to— they pepper you with whispered questions about transitioning and gripes about the gender binary when Pedro has been forced to hand over the phone.

You check your phone. Nothing from Pedro, although his little blue dot looks stationary when you pull up FindMyFriends. The clock ticks. There is a burning sting each time you blink— that third cup of coffee is wearing off, and the 5am wake-up this morning is starting to catch up to you. Really, all you want to do is go back to your partner’s hotel room, said partner in tow, curl up on the king-sized and fall asleep watching some West Wing rerun. (Maybe also shower together, and then some. You can keep yourself awake for that.)

Finally, finally, finally, the hazmat woman returns. “You’re clear,” she announces, handing you a green sticker to adhere on your jacket. You make it through the tent flap, heart in your throat with anticipation— 

But you have no fucking idea where to go.

A sea of white tents lays before you, stations with people doing things of varying levels of importance. A neon slip of paper points you towards set, but that’s not where you’re headed. Finally, past a corralled group of extras in some really disgusting mushroom prosthetics, and a tent full of picked-over lunch offerings, you spot some trailers in the distance.

And apparently, a stranger with a duffle bag walking quickly towards actors’ trailers, yields a quick security intervention.

In their defense, you definitely look like a crazy person. 

“Do you have a clearance list, or anything?” You beg, discretely craning your neck to see over the guard’s neck. The trailers are right there. There are only a few, it shouldn’t take any time at all to find Pedro. He’s within arm’s reach and yet he couldn’t possibly feel further away as the guard talks code into a very official-looking walkie talkie.

“Roger.” He looks down at you. “Listen, you gotta go man. It’s a clearance-only set, and they’ve got strict covid rules, so—”

The green sticker may or may not get shoved in the man’s face. There may or may not be angry tears threatening to ruin your cool.  “I got covid tested! I’m clean, they let me through. They had me on their list. I’m—”

From behind you, a familiar voice cuts you off. “With me, Robbie.”

You whip around.

Jaw? On the floor.

Pedro looks… really fucking old. His hair has been sprayed gray, wily and wind-swept; the beard, too, is much grayer than normal. It’s all part of a dirty-looking, artificially stained, mostly denim-based costume. You file away for later, how attracted you are to seeing him like this. Jesus Christ.

He looks old, but he is here, and he is grinning at you, and he’s here.

“Aw, shit.” The guard talks into the radio again. “86. Sorry about that.”

Easy to ignore him, though, as you’re preoccupied with staring at your man.

Before you can move to pounce on him, close the final four feet of distance between you, a well-manicure hand splays menacingly out at you.

“Don’t even think about it,” Coco warns. “We have fifteen minutes for touch-ups and I do not have time to fix everything.”

Pedro’s nose twitches, frowning at you. You reach down to hold his hand, but it is… apparently also covered in make-up, looking red, nasty and broken.

Sorry, he mouths dejectedly.

The inside of his trailer is familiar, though it looks a little smaller in-person than it appears on Facetime. A mirror and counter, a decently sized couch, a bathroom, a desk in the corner. Pedro settles in the make-up chair, smiling backwards at you in the mirror.

“Drop your stuff,” he insists.

Little touches of your life together pepper the room in a way that grips your heart a little. A framed picture on the desk, which you recognize from last summer; a particularly nice day in Prospect Park with the dogs, captured in a Polaroid snapped candid by a total stranger. You’d declined it, at first, assuming it was a weird fan thing. But they had insisted, leaving the picture behind and walking away. It was too lovely to leave.

The sweatshirt draped over the arm of the sofa is yours— an old NYU hoodie Pedro usually travels with. He claims it’s a ‘security blanket,’ and honestly, he might only be half-joking. A note you’d recently sent in a package (he’d accidentally left his whole box of contacts at home), taped up on the mirror, alongside a photo strip with Sarah from some gala a couple years back.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Pedro says quietly, watching you look around. “Take your mask off, baby, I’m assuming you cleared testing if you made it through the front.”

In your excitement to reunite, you almost forgot the little surprise. His jaw drops, into an awed smile. With the un-fake-injured hand, he reaches up to palm your cheek. Runs a hand up and down your jaw, scratching lightly along the new hair.

You turn enough to plant a kiss on the pulse point of Pedro’s wrist. Capture his hand with yours, against your face, to feel him for the first time in over a month.

“Oh! The oil is working,” Coco has paused, midway through spraying something silvery and chemical-smelling to Pedro’s temples. She had suggested it surreptitiously a few months back, off-handedly, and you’d been religiously using it since. The woman knows her shit.

Pedro continues to thumb at the new scruff, transfixed. His jaw muscle twitches.

“I’ve uh—” He stalls out. “Uh. Sorry. Dinner. Craig—”

You step backwards, pulling your hand down to hold in his lap, instead. He huffs.

“Craig wants to go to dinner tonight, since we’re wrapping in Edmonton. I guess there’s this restaurant he is insisting we have to try, it’s a whole thing. Big group. I didn’t give him an answer, in case you’re tired and wanna just head back to the hotel? But we can go, either way it’s fine, I figured…”

“Pedge,” you interrupt. “It’s all good. I’d be happy to go, it sounds fun.”

He exhales. “Thank god, because it’s like a spouse-thing, Neil and Craig’s wives are here.”

Your eyebrow quirks. “Spouse?”

Just to get a blush out of the man. You’d discussed it, of course, but had yet to make moves. Being marked soothed any sense of urgency— you were committed by flesh and blood, and that was ultimately more binding than a ring or ceremony. But, still.

“Joking, love." Despite the coffee, a yawn sneaks up on you. "I might crash on the couch for a bit, when you go back."

He glances at his phone. "We only have one more shot to get alts on. Neil swears we have a hard-out in an hour. Close your eyes, and I'll be right back."

— — — 

You didn't mean to actually fall asleep. Just lay there on your phone and zone out for a bit. But suddenly, you're waking up, to the feeling of a mouth on your own.

A familiar mouth. Warm, scruffy around the edges, a little pepperminty.

"We're done," Pedro whispers. "Coco says I can fuck up my makeup now."

When you open your eyes, he is hovering above you, grinning like a wolf. He's still in costume, though the denim overshirt is already half-unbuttoned.

"Are you done being gross?"

Sitting up, you find Bella in the doorway. They waste no time flinging themselves at the couch.

"In the flesh!" You both laugh.

"Shorter in person, huh?" Pedro is rewarded by a hearty shove from his costar, as he scrubs a makeup wipe across his face.

Wiping sleep from your eyes, you can tell it's gotten dark outside in the time that you've been asleep. "Craig still insisting on dinner?"

"Mm. It's like fancy Mediterranean, I think."

"Fetaaaaa," Bella pumps the air. "Nice."

The evening stretches out before you— a few more obstacles between you and the hotel bed. But Pedro is here, in the flesh, and he's smiling at you in a way that forms the little crinkles beside his eyes, and you think maybe you can sit through a few hours of fancy dinner and small talk.

You've waited this long, anyways.

[adharaphoenix]

after much procrastinating I actually did a sort of lore drop for Awbonee in bsky/twitter, so putting it (under the cut) here too

1. Awbonee Mossmantle, she/her half-elf ranger, in her early 30s when tadpoled. Neutral good by nature, tried hard to be lawful good in her adolescence/early adulthood, tried even harder to become neutral-neutral later on. Mum's family are upper city elves, dad is a Gur who settled down in Rivington

2. she was part of a small group of bounty hunters stalking a troll in the south wood and had separated from the group to look for food

3. she was aware Astarion was manipulating her because why else would a guy like that be interested in her, felt reeeal disappointed in herself when she started caring but was OK with enjoying it while it lasted. she stayed convinced he was going to leave any minute now for a long while after act 2

4. BFFs with wyll and karlach, they are a similar age and share similar cultural backgrounds. friends with Shadowheart and Lae'zel, idolises Halsin and Jaheira, doesn't get on with Minthara, friendly acquaintance with the rest

5. her elven grandmother dies right before the netherbrain battle. Awbonee's mother was disowned before she was born to all practical effects (name, inheritance, etc) but they did have a relationship, even if a bit strained/odd, so she takes it pretty hard (goes more nonverbal)

6. she goes to the underdark with Astarion so he can help the other spawn settle and establish a colony in an abandoned keep. she spends quite a lot of time looking for the way to get Karlach and Wyll out of Avernus because OBVIOUSLY

7. her parents and grandmother all live in the gate but they are used to her disappearing for months at a time, so they are not really waiting for her. her ex best friend Anaia however is W A I T I N G (has been for a while. it's complicated)

8. she is very agile and quite fast in melee, and with a crossbow/longbow. she is not particularly good at magic, and only has access to a couple of basic spells, mostly survival-related, and some rituals she learned as a child

9. she had been kicked out of her Gur grandmother's group of monster hunters when she was younger and she tried hard not to care but actually cared a whole lot, so getting back in the Gur's good graces was surprisingly nice

10. she is very frugal and has lived under the poverty line for chunks of her adult life so she will wear whatever is available, usually focused on freedom of movement. she likes drow armour. she runs hot so she sleeps in light shirts/vests

11. rosymorn. lots of places to climb, chill place, nice wine, even found some candied chestnuts to go with it in the wine cellar, a+++ would visit again

12.

13. Selûne by upbringing, but she prays to Mielikki

14. she travelled and struggled around taking odd jobs as monster hunter, either solo or with temporary crews

15. had a brief "sign me the fuck up" temporary moment of madness when nine-finger's lady court was talking about what nicknames they'd give her. she becomes close with chessa in the underdark, and with hope when they go back to avernus to get Karlach and Wyll back

16. nope, just a rando

17. her parents have an inn in Rivington and were busy trying to keep it afloat, so she spent a lot of time at her grandparents' in the upper city, or travelling with her grandmother and learning to hunt. she had a pretty happy childhood

18. not finding a way to help karlach on time. she also feels horrible about not going with her to avernus, but knows she would still choose to stay with Astarion if she had to go through that decision again, it was just a very shitty decision to have to make

19. "if it covers your ass it's good enough"

20. I have a bunch of favourites so this will do

21. she tries to make people's lives easier, so I guess acts of service mainly. she's severely touch starved but struggles a lot with being the one to initiate contact because she's 75% fear of rejection 25% water

22. it used to be disappointing her role models but then she went and disappointed all of them in semi rapid succession so nowadays it's not being in control of herself

23. felt a bit sorry for ketheric but orin and gortash had it coming

24. no, she rarely gets attached to things because they can be lost or if they are valuable they can be sold. she keeps a few emotional value mementos at her parents' but nothing she carries around permanently

25. she has a complicated relationship with Baldur's Gate and is not thrilled to have to go back. before the game when she visited she stayed with her parents in Rivington and only went to the city proper once in a while to visit her grandma, but was usually in and out as quick as possible.

26. being restrained, charmed or stunned taps directly into some bad trauma so any enemy with related magic or attacks was a mental struggle on top of, you know, it being a fight already

27. yes, but they're both headcanon, not game scenes: physically, she took a really bad tumble when leaving rosymorn. mentally, shortly after arriving in Baldur's Gate the people who burned her face find out she's back and turn up at the Blushing Mermaid one night

28. she was considered reliable and cheap as a minor league monster hunter in some small circles, she got some repeat jobs from it. after the game she is considered painfully boring by a big chunk of the underdark spawn and the coolest person alive by a smaller chunk

29. she sleeps very little so she usually gets up before dawn, spends a lot of down time checking out the surroundings, keeping watch, or foraging. she's good at camping logistics in general, and can play some music for entertainment

30. after defeating the netherbrain she went to the underdark with spawn!Astarion. the only decision she struggled with was going with Karlach or staying, everything else was pretty cut and dry from her side, she's not interested in power at all

[lelitachay]

Frozen fanfiction: Søsken

Summary: An accident in the North Mountain forces Elsa to spend several weeks in her brother’s apartment under Anna’s care. During that time, Anna realises there is more to Elsa than meets the eye. The truth about Elsa’s past comes to light after an unexpected family reunion, and both girls’ lives begin to fall apart when they realise Elsa wasn’t the only one with a big secret and a turbulent past.

Anna/Kristoff - Elsa - Family - Family drama - hurt/comfort - Modern AU - Elsa & Kristoff are adoptive brother and sister - Ice bros - Found family - Serious injuries - Mental health issues - Health issues - Frohana

Links:

Fanfiction.net - HERE AO3 - HERE

Tumblr -

Chapters 1 to 10 - Here Chapters 11 to 20 - Here Chapters 21 to 30 - Here Chapters 31 to 40 - Here Chapter 41 to 50 - Here

-

Silver lining

The slam of the front door caught Anna by surprise. Placing the knife on the cutting board, she dried her hands with the dishcloth and turned around to see Kristoff go about his evening routine. He had already taken off his muddy boots, leaving them forgotten by the door. He then took his jacket off and left it on the hanger before he squatted on the ground to greet Sven.

Her lips turned upwards as she watched her boyfriend scratch the dog’s ears and mumble to him. Anna stayed quiet, allowing him a moment with his dog. No matter how much time Anna spent with Sven, she knew she was no replacement for Kristoff or Elsa. And even if she had no way to prove it, Anna was certain Sven was suffering alongside the family. Perhaps it was the long hours he spent alone in the apartment, or Kristoff’s sombre mood; but whatever it was, it had been enough for Sven to notice something wasn't right. And ever since Elsa had fallen ill, the dog spent his days laying on the sofa, waiting impatiently for either Kristoff or Elsa to show up.

Keeping one hand on Sven’s head, Kristoff stood up and finally locked eyes with Anna. A small, tired smile drew on his face and Anna felt her chest constricting. She was tired of seeing him hide his sadness behind forced smiles. Smiles Anna knew were solely for her and his family’s sake. The bags under his eyes and the wrinkles between his eyebrows were a telltale of his sleepless nights and the concern he couldn't mask.

Shaking off the awful feeling, Anna smiled back, her grin a clear contrast to Kristoff’s forced smile. There was so much she wanted to tell him, but she thought it was best to give him a minute. Allow him to talk about his day and then give him the news. “Hey,” she said.

“Hi,” he said without enthusiasm. He walked towards the closest chair and sat down with a tired sigh.

“How was your day?” The question was stupid, Anna knew. It was late in the evening, meaning Kristoff had worked overtime and missed his chance to visit his sister yet again.

“Absolute rubbish.”

“I’m sorry,” she said as she turned around and picked up the knife to continue cooking while he vented. “Is your boss giving you a hard time?”

The owner of the ice factory had always been a reasonable man; but even if he had the best intentions, Kristoff was still one of the few people who could be in charge of the plant whenever he was not around.

“No. Not really.” He walked to the fridge and grabbed a drink. He closed the door and leaned against it to watch Anna cook. “He’s been more than understanding given the situation. When Elsa got sick, Jorgen and I agreed I would work with the guys during the morning and early afternoon. On his part, he would work the afternoon and evening shift on his own, allowing me to get off from work earlier. The boss didn't mind, as long as there was someone at the plant at all times…”

“Okay… That sounds reasonable.”

“Guess who broke a foot yesterday?”

Anna stopped chopping and turned to him. “Is Jorgen okay?”

He nodded as he took a long sip from the bottle. “The idiot broke his foot skateboarding.”

Anna stopped what she was doing once again, her brows knitting together as she tried to put a face to the name. “I thought Jorgen was the man I met at the company’s party last year.”

“He is.”

Anna looked at Kristoff. The man she was thinking about was at least fifteen years older than Kristoff. She even remembered meeting his wife and daughters. “Oh, I wouldn’t have thought he knew how to skateboard.”

“He doesn't,” Kristoff said, breathing out tiredly.

“What do you mean he doesn’t?”

“He bought his first skateboard three weeks ago.”

“What was he thinking?

“How could I know? Something tells me his midlife crisis had a lot to do with that stupid idea.” Kristoff exclaimed and Anna couldn't help but laugh. She could understand her boyfriend’s frustration perfectly well, but his exasperated tone of voice made her crack nonetheless. At least her laugh made him smile. “Boss said he'll try to find someone to cover his shifts, until then I've got to stay over time. Stupid idiot.”

Anna chuckled and returned her attention to her task at hand. “He didn't do it on purpose, honey.”

“Of course not,” Kristoff agreed. “But I hope he learns a lesson.”

The way he kept scraping the label off his bottle told Anna he was feeling uneasy. Knowing exactly the reason why, Anna thought it was best to finally share the news with him.

“Kristoff, there’s—”

“Did you get to see Elsa today?” he interrupted, not realising Anna was trying to say something.

“I did,” she said. Once again, she stopped cooking and turned to him. “I got home an hour or so ago. I've got some news…”

“No,” he was quick to say, walking away from Anna. “No, no.”

Anna turned around, her eyes narrowing. “What?”

“I don’t think I can take any more bad news, Anna.” He slouched on the chair and tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling. “I just can’t.

Sitting next to him, Anna leaned forward. He was avoiding her eyes but Anna didn’t mind, all he needed to do was listen. “The antibiotics are winning. Blood pressure is going up. Oxygen levels are higher than Nielsen expected…”

She trailed off, allowing Kristoff a moment to process the information. It took a couple of seconds, but finally he sat up. “What?”

A smile plastered on Anna’s face. “They've decided to wean her off sedation.”

Anna wasn’t entirely sure what reaction to expect out of Kristoff, but not once did she expect him to stare unfocused at the floor, unresponsive.

“Honey, did you hear what I just said?” Placing a hand on his knee, she explained herself better. “She’s going to be fine.”

Kristoff barely glanced at her before he focused on her hand. He stared at it, until he finally held it tight.

Anna stared at their intertwined hands as well, unsure of what to say. After a moment, a slight tremor caught her attention and she looked up to see Kristoff crying.

“Kristoff?” she asked, unsure if he had heard her correctly.

“I fucking needed this,” he choked out. “I don't know how much longer I could've put up with this shit. I—” Unable to continue, he wrapped Anna in a tight hug and hid his face in the crook of her neck.

Anna froze in place, surprised to see his hard shell cracking. For days she had been expecting him to reach a breaking point, knowing the worry was steadily dragging him down. Though, she was surprised to see it happen at that moment. Unsure of what else to do, Anna hugged him tight, glad he was finally letting it all out.

I took Kristoff a couple of minutes to regain some composure and calm down enough to be able to speak again. He let go of Anna and scrubbed his face with both hands, trying in vain to erase any vestige of his emotional breakdown. When he finally looked at her, Anna was glad to see an honest smile drawing on his face, despite his watery eyes.

“I should probably call dad,” Kristoff said when the implications of the news finally hit him. “See if mum needs anything.”

“She's not staying at the hospital tonight,” Anna called after him when stood up to look for the phone.

He picked the phone and turned around to look at her. “I thought you said they'd begun weaning her off the drug.”

“Nielsen said it'll take several hours for her to start responding,” she said. “He insisted Gerda went home tonight.”

“Is Marshall staying, then?”

With a nod of her head, Anna explained what Nielsen had told them earlier that day. “Marshall needs to keep an eye on Elsa’s powers. Nielsen is convinced they’ll react before Elsa’s fully conscious.”

Kristoff pursed his lips. “They don't really work that way. But I think it's safe to be prepared.” He then dialled his parents’ number. “I'm glad Elsa had the chance to talk to the big guy before all this,” he told Anna while he waited. “At least he knows what to expect. You were right about him.”

Anna nodded but stayed quiet, unsure of what to say. She was glad Kristoff and his family were on better terms with Marshall now that he was giving them a hand. After all, Marshall was indeed doing everything in his power to help like she had originally imagined. Sadly, Anna wasn’t entirely sure she had done the right thing. Ever since her conversation with Lena, Anna didn’t know what to expect anymore. She had been reading, trying to find information about his disorder; and so far, everything she’d been able to find on the matter did nothing but increase Anna’s ever present worry.

--

Promising his father to be at their place before sunrise, Kristoff hung up the phone and walked back to the kitchen. The conversation with Kai had helped him remain calm and control his need to go to the hospital as soon as possible. Even when he knew it was useless to go outside the scheduled visiting hours, he couldn’t help but feel anxious about seeing Elsa. He had only seen her twice in the last five days, and now that he knew she’d be waking up soon, he had to control himself not to go sit in the waiting room until she did. At least, he had found a good excuse to stop by the hospital the following morning. He could drop his mother off before work, stay a few minutes and wait for Marhall or Nielsen to give him a report on Elsa’s health. It wasn’t the same as seeing Elsa, but at least he would go to work knowing more about his sister’s condition.

He entered the kitchen and smiled when he saw Anna. She was too focused on the plating of their dinner to notice him, and he was glad that was the case. He knew exactly why she had chosen to cook an elaborate dish for them that night. Early on in their relationship, Kristoff discovered Anna enjoyed reading cooking books and trying new exotic dishes. She didn’t care too much about cooking on a daily basis, but she was fond of the challenge of trying to cook a new dish from time to time. Following the intrinsicate steps, controlling the time and ingredients, making sure the dish looked just like in the pictures… Those were the things that fascinated her, and whenever she had the time or needed a distraction —like she desperately needed lately—, she’d get to work on a new, extravagant dish. Her hobby was something Kristoff enjoyed as well, and there were times he made sure to find strange dishes for her to try. Given the stress of the last few weeks, Kristoff thought it was more than obvious for Anna to try and find a distraction. Especially now that they both were impatient to see Elsa and all they could do was wait.

Thinking it was best to give her a hand with the table, he began moving the books and things that were scattered over the table.

“How’s your dad?” Anna asked when she finally heard him moving around the kitchen.

“Optimistic,” Kristoff answered with a small smile. It was a nice change to hear his father being confident things would turn out for the best for once. “Mum was already asleep. Dad says she plans to show up at the hospital around six instead of eight like she usually does. I offered to pick her up.”

“They won’t let you see Elsa, honey.”

Kristoff knew she was only trying to save him the disappointment, but still he wished she’d be a bit more positive about it. “I can be charming when I want, a nurse might take pity on me.”

Anna chuckled and looked at him over her shoulder. “As long as they don’t confuse being charming with flirting…”

“You know better than anyone I have no game,” laughed Kristoff.

“I know,” Anna said with a smirk. “But some of those nurses are sleep deprived and haven’t seen the outside world in over twelve hours.”

“Ouch.”

“I love you.” Her merry voice said before Kristoff had the chance to complain.

“See, you say those words,” Kristoff said, standing behind her. “Though I don’t think you really know what they mean.”

“Shut up. You know I’m crazy about you.”

Kristoff grinned, knowing it was true. To his good luck, she was very much in love with him. He kissed her cheek and went back to his task at hand. He picked Anna’s bag and put some of her school supplies inside. He placed a couple of books in there as well and left it on the closest armchair. Being careful not to mix up the papers and documents scattered on the table, he placed one on top of the other, and moved them to the small coffee table in the living room. As he was placing them down in the right order, a small leaflet called his attention. He left it on the side and finished what he was doing before he picked it up again. He skimmed the content quickly. The different pictures printed on it piqued his curiosity even further.

“What’s this?” he asked, unsure why the whole leaflet was filled with images of people displaying violent acts.

Anna turned around, glancing quickly at him to see what he was talking about. As soon as she saw the red and blue pamphlet, Anna’s face paled. “Oh, umm… Nothing. You can put that away. Food will be ready soon.”

“IED?” Kristoff read out loud. “What's ‘IED’?”

“It’s nothing,” Anna insisted. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Dyscontrol syndrome.” Kristoff continued reading in silence for a while until a list of the common signs of the mental disorder were listed and he began reading them aloud: “Uncontrollable rage, shouting, threatening people… The list goes on and on. Whatever it is, it doesn't sound like nothing. Can you imagine dealing with a person like this? I’d be on edge at all times.”

When Anna didn’t answer, Kristoff looked up. She was still looking in his direction, the plating of their food forgotten, but her eyes were fixed on the floor instead of him.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh?” Anna said, meeting his eyes for a brief moment before she turned around and picked up the plates in a hurry. “Yes. Of course. Just thinking.”

“About?” Kristoff wondered. He knew perfectly well there was something she wasn’t telling him.

“It doesn't matter.” Anna placed the food on the table and looked up with a nervous smile.

Kristoff skimmed the rest of the information written and noticed there was a phone number circled at the very end. This was all the confirmation he needed to know there was something troubling Anna. “What’s this about, Anna?”

“Okay…”

She hesitated and he felt sick at the pit of his stomach.

“First of all, don't get mad. Just listen.”

He glanced at the pictures on the leaflet once again and then tried to meet Anna’s eyes, afraid he’d see fear written in them. “Anna… I’ve been irritable these past few weeks. More distant. But it hasn’t been that bad, has it? I mean, the lack of sleep and constantly worrying about Elsa has taken a toll on me, I know, but I would never— I don’t recall doing any of these—”

Anna gasped and, without hesitation, she crossed the room to stand in front of him. “Honey, no.” She said with a sad smile. She placed her hands on top of his, crumpling the piece of paper and throwing it to the floor. “You’ve never done anything that can be considered even remotely violent.”

He looked at her hands, still holding his before he dared meet her eyes. “If I ever raised my voice at you, I swear I—”

“This has nothing to do with you. I’d say I’m way more violent than you could ever be,” Anna chuckled.

Her small smile and the tender love in her eyes helped Kristoff understand she was being honest and he breathed out in relief. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he ever behaved in such a deplorable way.

Bending down, he picked the crumpled pamphlet and showed it to Anna once again. “Then what’s this?”

Anna glanced at the paper once more, finally noticing the red circle. She sighed nervously and guided Kristoff back to the closest chair. “The other day I ran into Marshall's mother,” she began to explain. “Well, I didn't run into her. We were at her house after all. You can't run into someone in their own home, can you?”

“Anna,” Kristoff warned, knowing she was sidetracking.

“Right, right.” She patted the air between them. “I was waiting for Marshall to get ready before we went back to the hospital and she—”

“When was this?”

“The day I asked Marshall to look after Elsa. Anyway, she began talking to me. She mentioned how being allowed to see Elsa would help Marshall with…” With a nod of her head, Anna pointed to the pamphlet he was still holding. “I haven't been able to stop thinking about it ever since. I asked the campus librarian if there were any books about this disorder. He suggested I’d better talk to the university counsellor.”

“And I guess you did.” It was clear that’s where Anna had gotten the pamphlet in the first place.

“I think she was concerned about my well-being and ended up circling the emergency number for me.”

Breathing in deeply, Kristoff pinched the brink of his nose and breathed out slowly. He was doing his best to remain calm, but life kept insisting things had to be hard. Permanently hard. And difficult. And unbearably complicated. “What exactly did the counsellor say about this?” he asked, smacking the folded paper on the table.

“Umm… It’s a mental disorder. The person suffering from it has no control over their violent outbursts.”

Biting his lower lip, Kristoff took a moment to understand what it all meant. “You're telling me Marshall could impulsively attack someone with no control whatsoever?”

“His mother said it's in remission,” Anna offered, hoping that would help him stay calm. 

Her worried smile did nothing to help, however. “Anna, you’ve seen the way he acts. It doesn't sound like remission to me.”

“I know. I know.” Anna repeated, as she rubbed her face. She was finally letting the overly optimistic mask slip. And once it did, Kristoff was surprised to see how truly concerned she was. “That’s why I can’t stop thinking about it. What if I made a mistake? Do you think I made a mistake? What if Kai was right? I mean, look at this.” She grabbed the crumpled paper once again and began reading out loud. “Outbursts are, more often than not, too extreme for the situation. They occur on and off unannounced, causing major distress for everyone involved.

“When she said he had an ‘explosive disorder’, I thought she meant he got mad from time to time. Madder than the average person, sure. But I never thought…” She trailed off, stopping to think before her eyes met his filled with trepidation. “What about the night he tried to beat the crap out of Hans? Do you think he was being serious?”

“Anna…”

“What about him getting fired? Kai and Nielsen said he got into a fight. Didn’t they mention him beating someone up to a pulp?” Kristoff had no chance to answer before she continued, “I’m so sorry, Kristoff. I shouldn't have told Nielsen about him. I should've kept my mouth shut for once.”

“Wait no,” Kristoff said, holding Anna’s hand and stopping her tirade before her anxiety blew things out of proportion. “I won’t let you do this.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, too tense to even try to understand what he was trying to say.

Only then Kristoff noticed her eyes welling up with tears and he tried to remain calm and offer Anna some comfort. “I'm not letting you take the blame. We all agreed he was a good choice. Even Nielsen said he was our best option… Perhaps, you did the right thing, Anna. We both know Marshall wouldn’t have taken no for an answer.” He waited for her to nod before he continued. “Elsa’s been friends with him for over three years now. She seems to know he’s got a temper, she’s used to it.”

“It’s not just a temper, Kristoff.”

He grabbed the leaflet once more and read the most important details once again. “Not once has Elsa mentioned anything like this. Perhaps it's not this bad.” He looked up and noticed Anna staring at him with an incredulous expression. “What?”

Anna put her hand on top of Kristoff’s, caressing his knuckles. “I’d like to stay positive, and I’m glad you’re trying as well… It’s just— I was certain you would freak out when you found out about this.”

“I am freaking out.” Kristoff laughed humorlessly. “I guess I’m trying not to let this change things. Marshall is helping, isn't he? He’s been doing exactly what he was told. Nielsen trusts him and mum is finally allowing herself to sleep.”

“Maybe you’re right. He seems calmer now,” agreed Anna. “It has helped him, just like Lena said.”

“Who’s Lena?”

“Marshall’s mother.” Anna chuckled.

Kristoff nodded and they both stayed silent, wondering if continuing to trust Marshall was in fact a good idea. Anna was the first to interrupt their pensive mood.

“What about later on? When this is all over…”

“There isn’t much we can do,” admitted Kristoff. “I don't think this will change the way Elsa feels about the guy. I'll try to keep an eye open. Talk to him if I ever get the chance.”

“But what if—”

“I’m no better than my aunt and uncles if I say Elsa is better off without him in her life.”

--

From the very first night, Marshall realised there was a change in the atmosphere in the early morning hours. Even in the remote room he could hear the sound of silence at the break of dawn. It was a strange feeling, if he thought about it. Under any other circumstances, he would have loved the peace and quiet. With Elsa unconscious by his side, he couldn't say he enjoyed it anymore. It reminded him of the deafening silence of the witching hour when he was a kid. Dreadfully quiet.

For this reason, he was very much surprised when a voice interrupted the silence for a second time that night.

“Any changes?” Nielsen’s voice echoed in the small room and Marshall had to blink a few times to make sure the man was actually standing by the door.

He had lowered his guard, it seemed. He hadn’t heard him getting closer, even when he had spent most part of the night alert of any undesirable visitors lurking in the hall. Had he fallen asleep, perhaps? It didn't seem likely.

Knowing the old doctor was a man who didn't like wasting time, he glanced at Elsa quickly, trying to find anything worth mentioning. She was still resting peacefully. The machines kept the air flowing and her heart rate in check, like they had done all night.

Nielsen watched him expectantly, while Gerda waited just outside the door for the man to move and let her into the room.

“Nothing. I know it takes time for a person to start responding,” he said, feeling chattier than usual. Tiredness did that to him at times. “But I’ll be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping she’d start regaining consciousness during the night.”

Nielsen nodded and walked into the room. Gerda followed suit and greeted him with a gentle smile.

“Here, allow me.” Marshall stood up, ignoring the stiffness in his legs, and offered Gerda the only chair in the room. He knew she was there to stay, even when there was still two hours left before her shift. He couldn’t blame the woman, though. As soon as Nielsen had informed them Elsa would eventually come out of the coma, he noticed the spark in her eyes, silently begging for the doctor to let her stay during the night.

Gerda thanked him and sat down, wasting no time to hold the hand he had previously been holding. He didn’t mind swapping places. There was no-one who’d offer Elsa more comfort than the old woman if she were to wake up.

A nurse walked into the room and requested him to move, drawing his attention back to the doctor. Nielsen was already checking Elsa’s vital signs and giving orders to the young girl who had just entered. The room felt even smaller than a moment before and he knew it was a matter of time until he was requested to leave.

“Do you need help?” he offered before he could think of anything better to say. “I could stay.”

“Go home and rest.” Nielsen dismissed him with a shake of his head.

There was no need for him to stay. No task to be fulfilled. Yet his feet felt glued to the ground; a knot tightening in his stomach at the idea of walking out of the room.

“Hålkesen,” Nielsen called his name, his voice a clear warning. “I said, go home.”

He looked at Elsa once again. Her breathing was still matching the ventilator rate and there were no signs of her responding. She was still completely vulnerable and Marshall didn’t feel comfortable leaving her that day. At least until he was certain someone would stay by Elsa's side at all times.

“Could I talk to you, then? In private.”

This piqued not only Nielsen’s but Gerda’s curiosity. The nurse looked at him as well and he wondered what was so difficult to understand about the idea of privacy.

“Is it truly important?”

Marshall's silence and seriousness seemed to be enough for Nielsen to trust his word. And so, with a sigh he handed his pen to the nurse and motioned for him to step out of the room. “Update her chart, please.”

Before the doctor walked out, Marshall noticed the subtle gesture he made, intended for only Gerda to see.

After closing the door behind him, Nielsen crossed his arms and waited impatiently for Marshall to speak. “This better be important.” 

What had happened in the middle of the night wasn’t serious. Perhaps Marshall was needlessly mistrusting people, but he wasn’t going to leave anything to chance when Elsa was involved. Thinking how best to explain his uneasiness, he took a moment before he spoke.

“A doctor came to see Elsa late at night. A nurse I’ve never seen before was accompanying him,” Marshall said, his voice barely over a whisper. “I know it may sound ridiculous, but I haven't seen them in the unit before.”

He expected Nielsen to tell him he was wasting his time or simply being foolish, yet the surprise in the man's eyes was tinted with concern.

“Who?”

“He introduced himself as Landvik. He asked questions about Elsa.” The crease between Nielsen’s eyebrows told Marshal he had done the right thing sharing his concerns. Massaging his neck to relieve some tension, he explained, “He asked about her recovery process and any perceptible changes I’ve seen in the last few days.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him all the necessary information was in the bed chart. The rest was between you and Elsa’s family.”

“Good,” Nielsen murmured. He stayed quiet for a while, his eyes fixed on the floor, thinking deeply. “Make sure that’s all he gets. All the information he needs is either in the chart or in my reports, as you said, clear?”

Marshall nodded, thinking what it all meant. Before he could ask, Nielsen turned around and headed to the room. So he stopped the doctor, once again. “Why would he come see Elsa personally? Why ask me these questions and not the team working in this unit? It makes no sense.”

Nielsen stopped, his hand on the door knob. He pondered for a while before he met Marshall’s eyes and said, “Use your head, kid. From a professional point of view, what’s the first thing that came to your mind when you found out about Elsa?”

“About her powers, you mean?” he asked in a low voice. “It’s impossible for her to do what she does. It makes no sense.” 

“Exactly.”

“So, what?” He was trying to remain calm, but he didn’t like what Nielsen was implying. “You’re telling me he—”

A high-pitched scream coming from inside the room stopped Marshall before he could get any more information. Concern washed over both men and they ran into the room — their conversation forgotten.

“What’s going on?” Nielsen demanded to know.

The young nurse was pressed against the wall, pointing at Elsa’s bed. A shocked, frightened expression on her face. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Gerda repeated over and over as she got closer to the nurse. “Please calm down. This is what we talked about.”

As soon as Gerda saw the girl nod her head, she turned to Elsa and leaned closer, speaking softly.  “Dear? Can you hear me?”

When Nielsen moved closer to Elsa’s bed, Marshall finally got the chance to see what had been causing all the chaos: Snowflake-patterned frost covered a quarter of the bed and it was slowly spreading to one of the legs of the bed.

The young girl seemed disturbed by the display of Elsa’s powers, and Marshall couldn’t really blame her. He had seen Elsa use her powers more than once already and he still had a hard time understanding them. It was a miracle the nurse had calmed down enough not to panic nor scream anymore.

“Step aside, please,” Nielsen told Gerda and reluctantly she obeyed.

“Elsa.” Nielsen called her name once, twice, before he asked, “can you hear me?”

There was no response so he moved closer, to try and check her pupil reflexes. As soon as he touched her face, her eyes opened wide. The icy blue of her eyes drawing everyone's attention.

“Elsa, over here.” Her eyes didn’t track Nielsen’s hand movement.

“Come closer,” he asked Gerda, and as soon as she walked in Elsa’s field of vision, her eyes fell on her.

A smile drew on Gerda’s face as her eyes brimmed with tears. Marshall breathed out in relief and felt positive things would turn out okay when the ice stopped spreading.

“I need you to blink twice if you can hear me clearly,” Nielsen instructed. Once again, however, Elsa didn’t respond, her eyes still fixed on Gerda. “Elsa?”

“Move to the side,” Nielsen requested Gerda. “Slowly. Away from her line of vision.”

“Nielsen, I—”

“Do as I say, please.”

When Elsa could no longer see Gerda, her eyes moved around the room, desperately trying to find her. Her eyes found Marshall’s then and hoping she'd recognise him, he smiled at her. This seemed to help her calm down until Nielsen stepped in between.

“Can you blink for me, Elsa?”

Losing sight of familiar faces seemed to set Elsa off and her breathing pattern increased rapidly. Steadily becoming laboured, above the ventilator’s rate.

“Don't be afraid. I need you to keep your eyes on me. Gerda is right beside you.”

“Doctor Nielsen, the ice.” The nurse pointed to the frost spreading fastly down the leg of the bed and onto the floor. She took a few steps back and Marshall thought it was best to help her before she panicked. Grabbing the nurse by the shoulders, he forced her out of the ice’s way and closer to the door, in case she wanted to leave.

Gerda moved Nielsen out of the way and held Elsa’s good hand, making sure she looked at her. “I'm here, sweetheart. I know it’s scary, but you’re fine. Trust me.”

“The ice keeps spreading,” Marshall said calmly. Stating a fact with no intention of alarming anyone.

“Move.” Forcing Gerda to the side, Nielsen grabbed a syringe from the tray he had brought with him earlier and injected a small dose in Elsa’s IV.

Gerda’s face turned red and she did nothing to hide her disapproval. “Jonnas, what are you doing?”

“I wasn’t expecting her to be this responsive so soon.” He informed her. He seemed unfazed by his choice and Marshall had to count to ten not to snap at the man.

“We’ll run some tests. I’m positive we might be able to extubate her before she becomes fully conscious again.”

“She was responding accordingly, there was no need to—”

“I’m not going to take any risks.”

As soon as the ice began to melt, Nielsen called the nurse’s name and listed the steps he wanted her to follow. He explained the dose given to Elsa was small —just enough to keep her calm for no more than an hour or two— and he needed to make sure everything was in order before she woke up again.

When the nurse was about to leave the room, he called her back. “I’ll need you to restrain her, just to be safe.”

“Jonnas…” Gerda warned, displeased with the idea.

“It’s not up for debate.”

Marshall tightened his fists. But he managed to remain calm. If he were to lose control of his emotions, he’d risk losing his right to see Elsa. But that didn't mean he'd silently agree with Nielsen's idea.

“Stay with her at all times.” With that last order, Nielsen walked out of the room and Marshall followed. Perhaps he could speak with the man, change his last choice without a quarrel taking place

“Nielsen, I—”

“You go home.”

Marshal was about to yell at the man to listen to them, but Gerda placed a hand on his arm stopping him on time. Nielsen continued walking down the hall unaware of Marshall’s rage.

“It's best if you go,” Gerda said in a low voice. “I'll make sure she’s safe.”

Tightening his fists once again, Marshall took a few deep breaths and counted to ten, in English, Norwegian and French. When the lump in his throat disappeared, he looked at the old woman, who was looking back at him with concern. She understood his indignation. He could see it in her eyes. But unlike him, she knew better than to start a fight. Knowing it was best for everyone if he left, he apologised to Gerda and disappeared down the hall, ashamed of his behaviour.

Marshall walked out of the wards at a slow pace, trying hard to focus on anything but Nielsen's choices.

Once in the main reception, he informed Andrea, who had just started her shift, he was leaving. While he waited for her to check something he didn’t care about, he felt a hand tapping his shoulder. He cursed under his breath and turned around, hoping it wasn’t one of his ex-colleagues.

“Marshall,” Kristoff greeted him. “Have you seen my mother? She said she'd come back and— Is everything okay?” He asked as soon as they locked eyes. “Please, tell me she’s okay.”

Taking another deep breath, he nodded. Kristoff had nothing to do with him being annoyed and so he tried to put on a good face. Elsa was okay, after all. He needed to focus on that. And he needed Kristoff to know that was the case. “She's responding,” he said with a small smile.

“Thank goodness,” Kristoff breathed out in relief. “Do you think I could—”

“I doubt Nielsen will let you see her. I was just kicked out of the room.”

“Are you sure everything’s okay?”

It was meant to be a joke, though Marshall should have known Kristoff would get suspicious. Playing dumb, he smiled again and nodded. “Yes. I'm just tired. I guess I don't know what I'm saying. Elsa's fine. Your mother's with her.”

He looked at the receptionist to make sure everything was in order, and once she told him he could leave, he began walking towards the main door.

“See you in a couple of hours,” he said, hoping not to drag the conversation any longer.

“Wait, Marshall,” Kristoff called after him, catching up with him by the door. “I want– Umm… Do you want to have breakfast?”

“What?”

“You’ve been looking after my sister for over four days now and we haven’t really spoken to one another. I haven’t even said thank you.”

“I haven’t got any money on me.”

“It’s on me,” Kristoff said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve got an hour to kill before work and I could use the company.”

Marshall wanted to decline. Go home, take a shower and sleep. But deep down he knew it was best to accept the invitation.

--

I’m not even sure if this is what was supposed to happen in this chapter anymore. On Monday morning I sat down to write and edit a few scenes and dialogues I had, and somewhere along the way the characters began to make their own choices and here we are.

I’m glad they did, though. I really like the final result. It was time Anna and Kristoff could enjoy an evening on their own, even if they spent more time worrying than anything else.

Thank you all for your kind reviews. I love you all and I promise I’ll respond to all of them soon.

Take care and don’t forget to leave a little something in the box below. It always makes my day, week and month.

Read you soon!

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[whump-me]

Martyr, Chapter 30: A Good Emptiness

Chapter 30 (the final chapter!) of Martyr, a novel-length sci-fi whump story about a captured Martian rebel with a secret and the renowned interrogator who has waited a decade for the chance to break him. This series is best read in order. Masterpost here.

Contains: escape, aftermath of severe injury, emotional whump, the closest thing to a warm and fuzzy ending you’ll get from me

---

Wraith

Sharp pains shot up Wraith’s legs as he stumbled out the door and into the narrow tunnel. He had lost track of how long he had spent hurrying down the hallway. Only a few minutes, most likely, but his speed-healed bones were already threatening to give out on him.

The urine-yellow lights at the top of the curved ceiling cast an eerie glow over the tunnel, illuminating its narrow confines and making it appear even more cramped than it actually was. A sense of claustrophobia came over Wraith as he looked down the long, curved hallway and saw no end in sight.

The tunnel held no sounds of life aside from Wraith’s irregular huffing as he tried to catch his breath. Clicks and whirs from the machines hidden behind the walls—the machines that kept the domes functioning—provided barely noticeable background noise, like a swarm of mechanical bees buzzing in the darkness. The air smelled stale and trapped. It was nothing like the fancy filtered air in the Special Security compound, cool and filtered and sterile and always tasteless.

That stale air was the best thing he had smelled in his life.

He had to get out of here, and fast. Special Security would discover Isadora’s body soon, if they hadn’t already. Shortly after that, someone would discover the disabled cameras and the unlocked door. They would be coming for him. He had to be on the surface before that happened, and lose himself in a crowd—or else find his way to the parts of the tunnels that he knew like the back of his hand.

He knew all that. Even so, he couldn’t force his aching bare feet to take another step. He sagged back against the wall of the tunnel. The chipped tile of the tunnel walls was warm against his back. He slid bonelessly down until he was sitting on the hard, dusty floor.

He didn’t take an inventory of all the places that hurt. That would only have discouraged him. Instead, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, ignoring the protests of his chest muscles, which hadn’t quite forgotten the damage Isadora had inflicted. He looked over to the side, toward the door. The featureless metal revealed nothing of what lay hidden inside. Nothing of all the people the Special Security compound had swallowed over the past decade.

It should have swallowed him like all the rest. He should have disappeared through that door and never come out again.

But maybe it had. The version of him that would have died for Gabriel’s cause—the version of him that had thought he wanted that—had died in there. He wasn’t sure who it was that had walked out.

But if he got lucky, maybe he would have the chance to figure it out.

Assuming he could force himself to his feet before Special Security caught up to him right here, where would he go next? Already, he felt himself pulled back to Gabriel. It was a physical tug in his gut, like he had a magnet lodged there. It was reflexive. Whenever he had found himself lost over the past decade, whenever his inner compass had gotten skewed, he had always known Gabriel could set him right.

And then, somewhere along the line, their dynamic had taken on another layer. Gabriel hadn’t just been his compass; he had been Gabriel’s weapon. Gabriel had aimed him, and he had flown straight and true.

He had done the things Gabriel couldn’t. He had thought it had all been his own idea, that the things he had done were unthinkable to Gabriel. But of the two of them, Gabriel had always been the strategist.

He didn’t blame Gabriel for being who he was. But he wondered how it would feel to set his own aim for a change.

Without Gabriel, though, what did he have waiting for him on the outside? Not even as much as he had going in. After his arrest, he knew there was nothing waiting for him at his small apartment. No belongings, no credits in his accounts, no ID. No way to go through a simple checkpoint without getting flagged.

No cause to fight for. No purpose.

All he had was the breath in his lungs, and the heart beating in his chest. Which wasn’t nothing. It was more than he thought he would get to keep, when he had lain on the floor of the interrogation room and watched himself from far above. And he had something else—an empty space inside him, the vast and hollow, echoing with promise.

It was the place he used to try to fill with Gabriel’s cause.

It wasn’t a bad kind of emptiness. It felt kind of like being a kid, in the days before Earth had come. Without the weight of feigned purpose weighing him down, a sense of reckless possibility came over him. It made him feel young again, as if the past decade had melted away, even as he lay slumped against the side of the tunnel, his body heavy with exhaustion.

He forced himself to his feet, because he had to—and because he could, when up until a few moments ago he had thought he would never go anywhere under his own power again, and he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity. His half-healed injuries ached and stabbed him in at least a dozen places. He didn’t care. He would be feeling the effects of his treatment at Isadora’s hands for the rest of his life, he was sure. It was the price of his survival. He might as well start getting used to it now.

He started down the tunnel, step by halting step, bracing himself against the wall with the twisted fingers of one hand. He didn’t know where the tunnel would come out, or where he would go once he reached the surface. All he knew was that he would take whichever road would lead him away from where Gabriel was no doubt mourning him—sitting in the soft thick light of his office, feeling the burden of all the sacrifices he had made.

A sharp twist of affection tightened Wraith’s heart as he pictured Gabriel. Wraith couldn’t hate him for what he had done. In fact, in some sick way, Wraith loved him for it—because if he hadn’t been willing to do it, he wouldn’t be the person Wraith had fallen in love with.

Once Wraith had gotten himself settled and figured out how to stay off Special Security’s radar, maybe he would send him a message. Just a note to let him know he had survived. Maybe it would ease some of the weight on Gabriel’s shoulders. Wraith hoped so.

But he wouldn’t go back.

He wouldn’t take the easy way out like Isadora, either. She had chosen to die rather than figure out who she was without everything that used to fill her empty spaces. He preferred to be selfish. He preferred to live.

He was born for blood and death. Or that was what he had assumed when his calling had found him. The fit had been so natural that he had never questioned it. He had never wondered where talent ended and desire began, and whether he truly owed the world his blood and his fear and his fury until the end of his days.

He had never asked whether his calling was destiny or accident, or imagined the possibility of being reborn.

Maybe he would take up the fight again, once he figured out what it meant to him besides a chance to earn Gabriel’s love. There were still people out there who could benefit from what he could do, and what he was willing to do. Or maybe there was something else out there waiting for him. If so, he hoped he would have the strength to turn toward it, and away from the magnetic pull of his old life. He could be useful to the rebellion, after all, but the rebellion didn’t need him. If it had, Gabriel would never have been willing to sacrifice him.

Gabriel was the one they needed. And Wraith had saved him. He had done his part.

Maybe he would even go back to using his real name again. For ten years, he had been a vengeful ghost stalking the shadows. Now he was ready to live again.

Wraith stumbled forward as the tunnel curved upward under his feet. He walked ahead into possibility with nothing but his broken body and the clothes on his back. He savored the feeling of the warm tunnel floor against his aching bare feet. With no chain binding him to the floor, he felt light enough that he was glad he was underground, because otherwise he might just float away.

The sudden impulse came over him to run down the length of the tunnel, whooping in delight, like the boy he had been with Gabriel before Earth had come. But he wasn’t that kid anymore. He carried the weight of the last ten years in his aching bones.

But the weight of it wasn’t heavy enough to hold him back. It was just heavy enough to bind him to this planet, to create a solid—if broken—foundation for whatever came next. So long as he was strong enough to claim it when it came.

And if he had been strong enough to hold out under Isadora’s torture, he was strong enough for anything.

He didn’t break into a run. He couldn’t pretend he was that carefree kid again. But he smiled and tilted his chin up as he faced the light of the exit ahead.

the end

---

Tagged: @straight-to-the-pain @soheavyaburden @gala1981 @whumpacabra @sacredwrath @suspicious-whumping-egg @sonder35 @decahedron-crabclaw @seasaltandcopper @tremendousenemyhideout @bloodinkandashes @whumplr-reader @whatiswhumpblog @delicateprincepaper @sunshiline-writes

[anonymouscomrade]

aC on vacation

so here's a summary of day 1, more later when i feel like getting the photos off my phone

got to a hotel where my brother and his wife are staying because fuck driving several hours when i should be asleep. google maps sends me to a parallel fucking dimension where the hotel was built on the opposite side of the city. also the roads here are somehow iced over when most of the road leading here wasn't so go figure. we try to get dinner and almost everywhere is closed on account of the snow, except for this hole in the wall chinese takeout place, because if you can count on any place to be open, it's one of these. they make the best general tso's chicken i've had in a long time, it turns out

woke up at like four in the morning for our 7:30 am flight, because by airport logic being only two hours early is tantamount to no-showing. this was right after shit got polar so the roads were covered in ice. at the parking place, i tried and failed to get past a barrier before the lever arm came back down again because it was on a slight incline and i couldn't get enough traction to clear it before it closed. this happened like SIX TIMES, it was some Three Stooges shit

our shuttle takes us over to the airport. i stick to my brother like a little kid to his mom because he's done this before and i have not. the flight is going to be five hours. which doesn't make sense to me because the return flight is only supposed to be three and a half. i dunno, maybe headwinds or something? i'm not a fucking pilot. i'm anxious to get this part over with because, again, never flown before. after waiting for clearance for what feels like forever (justified, on account of ice) we're finally in the air. it's... nothing? it's kind of mundane and somehow boring. one of the greatest achievements in human history and the only difference between this and being on a bus packed full of strangers is there's no road to rumble against that eventually numbs your butt, and also it's several degrees of magnitude faster than a bus i suppose

we arrive at LAX and if i didn't already feel like a fish out of water then oh boy. how the fuck do people live like this? how do you figure out who's supposed to go where? it's like living in the Kowloon Walled City, thought the guy who grew up imagining anywhere big enough to have a walmart counted as a "big city"

we get another shuttle, this one absolutely cramped with people, to get to the rental car place. my brother argues with the guy (who isn't even actually *physically* there, he's somehow doing sales over Zoom or some shit) for like half an hour before telling him to cancel the whole thing. turns out they wanted close to four times what he was originally quoted and weren't budging. we decide to get an uber to the closest In-n-Out, because we're in California, and also starving, so why not. we're standing in line looking a bunch of huge dorks carrying around suitcases. if i was ever going to be mugged in broad daylight it would be right here, right now. i order a double double combo, swap out the tomato for onions because raw tomato has all the texture and flavor of a balloon filled with wet sand, and onions and cheeseburgers go together like chocolate and peanut butter. the burger's okay, i guess. the fries are the most boring fries i've ever eaten. at least it's probably the cheapest meal i'll have while i'm here

we take another uber to get to our airbnb, about 45 minutes out. every other billboard is this guy

we arrive and immediately notice something is wrong. it was advertised as 4 bed. there are TWO double beds. this is pretty good if you're two married couples and not so much if you're the double third wheel travelling with two married couples. there's one room with a folding leather futon and not much else that seems kind of pointless and i decide this is where i'll stay. turns out that futon is the least comfortable sleeping surface ever manufactured in human history and there are maybe three exact positions that are even kind of comfortable enough to fall asleep in while lying on it and not having an iron bar press up into your lower back or your shoulderblade or the back of your neck

END OF DAY 1

[poundfooolish]

honestly listening to my boss talk about his tesla drives me insane because this guy and several of my coworkers have literally no brainspace to think about the ethics of any given piece of technology when the new gadget is right there, and I've been told off before for being negative about this shit when it comes up

So my boss is telling us how smart it is that tesla charging stations slow down and won't charge your car as efficiently after 15 minutes to keep people moving in and out of charging stations quickly and I'm biting my tongue trying not to say 'so basically you can't guarantee getting a full battery on one charge without standing around for hours or leaving and coming back because one guy wants to speed up the process and funnel as many people as quickly through as possible? You think having an actively worse experience is really smart because you won't have to wait an extra 5 minutes in line to charge your shitty unsealed Tesla? Instead you have to wait an extra 15 to 30 minutes because maybe someone wants a full charge but got slowed down for 'taking too long' to charge the battery that the company designed?????'

This isn't as bad as 'my son is making a cryptocurrency that automatically withdraws loan repayments from your wallet whether you authorize it or not as a form of unregulated loan sharking and it's great because it's futuristic' BUT IT'S COMING CLOSE

[valenunez24]

TAYLOR SWIFT WINS GRAMMY IN HER CATEGORY.

Taylor Swift made history this Sunday in Los Angeles by winning the fourth Grammy of her career for the album of the year with her "Midnights", at a gala that had women as winners. The 66th edition of the Grammy Awards was held at the Arena in Los Angeles on February 4, 2024.

Taylor Swift manages to make history at the 2024 Grammys by achieving her fourth award for the best album of the year.

In my opinion, it was a very good album, which was released on October 21, 2022. It had a great impact with the girls. His concerts on The Eras Tour were a success as well as his music, which is very good.

MBAPPÉ INFORMS PSG THAT HE WILL LEAVE IN JUNE AND ASSURES THEM THAT HE HAS NOT YET SIGNED WITH MADRID.

On Tuesday morning, Kylian Mbappé took another step in the liturgy of his departure from Paris Saint-Germain after seven seasons. He met with the president of the club, Nasser Al-Khelaifi, for about an hour in the new PSG sports city in Poissy and, according to sources familiar with the conversation, he confirmed what he had already told him in writing in a letter he sent in May last year: he leaves when the season is over. At the meeting, the specific economic conditions in which the exit is going to be articulated were left pending. It even took months to close the way in which Mbappé will somehow compensate PSG, despite the fact that his contract expires on June 30. When they close that aspect, they will make a joint communication.

I think Mbappé has given Paris Saint Germain a good career for several years. And it's time for him to make his fame and grow up as a professional soccer player in a team more than his level. Real Madrid and Paris Saint Germain are very well-cataloged teams, however Real Madrid statistically speaking, has more goals, goals per minute, shots on goal, and successful passes.

THROUGH YOUR GAZE, NEW MOVIE!

The love of Raquel and Ares in the literary trilogy of the Venezuelan author Adriana Godoy captured thousands of readers and has also repeated its success on the screen with the adaptations starring Clara Galle and Julio Peña. After its first two installments, the third film entitled Through Your Look reends the audience with the couple who has faced several tests of their relationship. These are facts you should know about the romance film that will be released on February 23, 2024.

I think it will be a good movie, since the first 2 movies were quite good and with an excellent plot. I believe that many people with a long-distance relationship will feel very identified with the movie. Since such a love is difficult to carry.

THE KEY SPRING/SUMMER 2024 TRENDS TO KNOW NOW.

The most talked-about collection at the spring/summer 2024 fashion shows was the one that wasn’t there. Phoebe Philo, yet to unveil the first fruits of her eponymous line, which had been originally slated to debut online in September some six years after she departed Céline, dominated the fashion news cycle throughout the month. As the spring/summer 2024 fashion trends piled up, designers waited nervously to see if their collections would be eclipsed by a spontaneous digital drop from a woman many revere as fashion’s messiah.

Statement gowns are out and discreet chic – buoyed up with wardrobe staples including trench coats, pencil skirts, trouser suits and good jeans – is in. At the fashion search engine Tagwalk, which scanned more than 11,000 images from the spring/summer 2024 shows in New York, London, Milan and Paris, looks that were tagged “minimalism” were up 46 per cent on the previous spring/summer 2023 season. Logo-tagged looks, meanwhile, were down 52 per cent, while ’90s-tagged looks were up 42 per cent – the latter was also the most searched tag. With the 25th anniversary of the untimely death of Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy coming up next year, meanwhile, the Succession-fuelled “quiet luxury” trend is segueing into something that more closely resembles the understated ’90s-New-York elegance of the former Calvin Klein publicist.

In my opinion, this new fashion that is approaching is perfect, I think all women will look beautiful, highlighting their beautiful body. Creating more new styles with the passage of time and looking incredible.

[holidayvisa]

28 December 2023 - I woke up early. I was awake by 7am. That counts as early. I walked to Line Up, the surfing instruction shop, and I arrived just as a very large man opened up a garage door. Inside the garage were a bunch of surf boards, some wetsuits, and a bunch of huge, poster-sized photos of surfers surfing some big waves. The guy's name was Wayne, and he had to be in his 60s. Wayne first had me lie down on a mat on the floor of the garage and practice standing up, as if standing up on a surfboard. It felt a little like...

I'm just kidding, Wayne truly did a good job of setting me up for success. He told me that I need to move my back foot up first, then my forward foot. He also told me, "arms up!" I practiced several more times on the floor of his garage before we grabbed surfboards and walked to the beach. We probably got in the water around 8:30am. We paddled out not very far from shore, and Wayne had me catch one of the first waves. I paddled too much before trying to stand up, and when I tried to stand up, I leaned too far onto my toes, and sunk the toe-edge, and fell over. Wayne told me to keep my eyes up, to not look at the board or the water in front of my board, but to look up ahead. I paddled back out to Wayne, and on my second wave, I stood up and surfed the wave all the way to shore! We did this several more times, and I stood up and surfed the wave every single time! After I seemed to get the hang of it close to shore, Wayne decided to take me out to the point, where there are a lot of rocks. I was nervous about this idea. Wayne told me, "no matter what, go right," because if I went left, I'd surf right into the rocks 😬 The waves were calming down, and there weren't a whole lot of good waves. I tried to catch a couple, but I don't know if I timed it wrong or what, but I didn't even get to the point where I try to stand up. One wave, I caught it, but I was too slow on standing up, and I was off balance, and I fell into the water. I made sure to fall flat because I didn't want to hit any of the rocks below the surface of the water. Finally, after probably 30 minutes of waiting by the point with rocks, there was a good wave. Wayne gave me a boost as I paddled to catch the wave. I could feel the wave start to push me, so I stood up, moving my back foot first then my front foot, raising my arms, and I made sure to GO RIGHT. I surfed the wave all the way until the wave died out! As I surfed, I could see all the rocks under my surfboard, just below the surface of the water. I didn't really have much brain capacity to think about those rocks as I was surfing over them, but I knew I needed to keep riding the wave and NOT FALL. It felt SO GOOD to catch that wave and surf it! After I surfed that awesome wave, and since the waves were dying down, Wayne said we should head in. It was just after 9:30am. Wayne told me to keep surfing close to shore, in the same area that we started in, but that I'd be by myself since he has to meet the people for his next lesson. So, for the next hour, I surfed without an instructor. I caught a few good waves that I surfed all the way into shore! And, it felt good that I did it all on my own. There were a lot of dads teaching their kids how to surf, which was very cute. So many of the kids were WAY better at surfing than me! It's amazing how good some of these kids were. I surfed until just after 10:30am, when Wayne needed his surfboard back for the next lesson. So, I was in the water, attempting to surf, for 2 hours! I'm honestly kind of glad that Wayne needed his surfboard back because otherwise I'd probably have surfed until my body gave out and turned lobster red from sunburn.

After the surf lesson was over, I walked back to the Vavich's place and ate breakfast.

When Marie got home, we all three walked to Dee Why Beach and got fish 'n chips from one of the beachfront restaurants. Let me rephrase that - Marie bought us all fish 'n chips. We took our fish 'n chips to the beach and ate while watching the waves crash on the shore. The sky was lit up in pinks and blues. The last of the surfers were catching their final waves of the day, and all of the swimmers had already gotten out of the water. It was a very serene dinner venue. And the fish 'n chips were delicious.

It was 9pm when we started to walk back, and it was very dark. We could barely see the path we were walking on. I conked out pretty quickly after we got home.

I'm grateful for an early start to my day. I'm grateful for the surfing knowledge I learned from Wayne. I'm grateful that I was able to get up on the board on my second try. I had built it up in my head to be this big thing, and I was relieved when I got it. I'm grateful for the exercise and sun. I'm grateful for Marie and all that she's done for me. I'm grateful for the experience of eating fish 'n chips on the beach while looking out at the ocean and a beautiful sky.

[whenthechickencry]

Umineko EP4. Replay Part 3

Oh man, you gave Maria TWO cool drawings in a day? Damn. To be honest I always felt it was a little weird they could get so close from seeing each other like... twice or thrice. But also they are both deeply troubled and lonely people and I can feel from these interactions the few times they got to spend together were pretty magical to them.

Protected heavily by Beatrice, who understands her true value. 🥹

I think it's important to understand that this is party Ange's perception of Maria, Ange!Maria is clearly a bit more mature and developed in her way of thinking than 1986 Maria.

I always kind of wonder how much Kinzo's obsession with the cult is real and how much of it was his family exaggerating one of his creepy interests once he started to go kind of insane, but I guess we have a bit of proof that it was actually fairly big.

I wonder.... if only that message bottle was found instead of several would people have assumed it was just the truth? was it only the particular chain of events that led to the legend of the witch?

I wonder if this lead to some crazy theories at the time - Himamaizawa was in the same spot after the events of several fragments and that WAS a government conspiracy.

I think this lead to the Eva theories dying down in favor of other theories, too... after all, if the murderer wrote this, someone who planned to kill Eva wrote notes detailing that.

Well the vagueness was needed to create the catbox Ange - if there was only one truth it wouldn't really be a catbox.

Oh, Ange just figured out what I just pointed out, lmfao.

Not exactly the most refined version of the concept, but it does guide you into the idea that witch = wanting power + victimization.

She's being mean here but also this man just spent like 30 minutes telling her how fascinating her family's murder is so, deserved.

Well, they say this but she's perfectly able to summon Maria in any case... but I assume having a book where she can fill in the Maria gaps in her brain helps have her as an imaginary friend in a way she doesn't have for Battler...

The bitterness Mammom feels from Ange is pretty interesting and it's probably from Ange's complicated feelings towards magic by now.... She wants once again to believe in magic in order to cure her deep loneliness but the disappointment and powerlessness she feels even with them hasn't gone away...

Why not just admit you want to imagine a vibrant scene where you are surrounded by friends, then? Humans really are difficult.

It's kind of funny how different the relationships the stake have for Beatrice!Stakes and Ange!Stakes, they are clearly very friendly with each other but they torture each other with Beato.... with them being based on her colleagues as a servant I imagine Yasu got satisfaction from lording over them and them harming each other, Ange just wants friends.

Oooooh yeah, I think my analysis of Mammom's relationship toward Ange reflecting her relationship with magic is right on the mark, the line about sadness and loneliness proves it.

Well... it's more complicated than that. But yeah no one really has any right to judge Maria for how she tries to find happiness.

Eh ah? Hahahah Okay Maria. I guess she's kind of pouty sometimes.

Aka don't make fun of your friends OCs, asshole.

I think Ange's relationship with Mammon might say something, too, it's similar to the concept of miracles, but framed in a different way here, I think.... Such as Ange's greed caused her to always cling to the miracle of her family coming back and leaving her unable to move on.

To be honest, when I was in high school mostly I tended to do this a lot.... not with imaginary friends (kind of) but I would conjure people I knew irl in my head and have them act as, basically, understanding therapists in my head.... obviously it didn't actually do anything but it scratched my itch to be understood without risking having people think less of me. I can relate to Ange here.

Wait, without telling Dad? That is kind of interesting... Kyrie obviously hates Battler but I guess she was willing to suck it up for Ange, we know she was willing to do it for Rudolf (or at least enough so Battlers little brain can't comprehend he's a target) but doing it for Ange is interesting... especially since I imagine it was easy for Kyrie to go "we can't do that"

For his sake, huh? I guess Ange's under that pretense for her own sake.

Lambdadelta's language here is really cruel - I think what Ange is struggling with here is the fact that her trauma will never be removed. She feels the correct and untraumatized Ange was destroyed in 1986 and she's a fake ruined one. Lambda is forcing her to confront the fact even if Battler comes back she won't be able to get rid of all the trauma that happened. Her saying Bernkastel went through this is echoing Rika's realization that being a witch has fundamentally changed her and she can't truly go back from Saikoroshi.

Haha.... well that isn't really true. It won't take even more than one extra game for you to break her determination... Lambdadelta went on about how Battler can never win without Ange's help, which is probably true. He probably wouldn't have committed to denying witches and Beato completely if Ange hadn't encourage him...

To be honest I wonder how much those days were mostly wonderful for Ange alone, I mean I imagine Rudolf and Battler were awkward with each other and Kyrie Battler is a mess....

Man, the school failed Maria so hard too... the bullying and refusing to help her develop her talents and instead just telling her she's doing it wrong.

I haven't written anything in a while because it's hard to comment on this scene, it's really painful to read.... all the comments about how thee teachers and the student council let this happen even knowing what was probably going on...

The use of Golden Slaughterer and the general cruelty of the scene is obviously meant to get you thinking of this scene as analogous to many other of the murder/corpse discovering scenes so far... we saw what drove Ange to both magic and violence so we should be looking at Beatrice in a similar way.... Also Ange's setting herself as the villain even in the scenario she cooked up because she hates herserlf.

[thepercy6andtheradicalsabbatical]

Wilderswill to Albert Heim Hütte

Becca motivated early for a final hike/trail run in our awesome surrounds while Matt lazed about and tried to get kids to eat leftover food (bacon was easy, other foods harder). We were low on milk so he also made a big sacrifice and instead had his morning espresso with the leftover ice cream we needed to get rid of (and a delicious affogato it was). We eventually got everyone packed and closed up shop at our awesome Wilderswil airbnb and set out on a journey with at least 5 separate fairly closely timed connections with limited alternative options that had Matt nervous as he had planned it and didn’t want to let the fam down. Step 1 went smoothly as our bus arrived on time and conveyed us to Interlaken west on schedule, arriving at 9:30 AM. We then had only a short line at the ticket counter to use the bag transfer service (for only 12 CHF per bag, Swiss rail (SBB) will transfer your bag to any other railway station in the country so long as you give then 48 hours to do this). This was perfect for us as we had 2 nights of huts, so we had consolidated all we needed for 2 days into the twins’ two hiking packs and made Oli’s bag the snack bag, then crammed all our remaining possessions into Matt, Becca and Emily’s bags, which we checked to pick up in Zurich 2 days later (hopefully it works!). The first train arrived on time but departed a few min late due to people being slow loading bags on, but we made it the one top to Spiez and smoothly transferred to our next train where we had the option to transfer either in Visp with a shorter time window but less walking or Brig with more walking but also more time. We opted for Visp and ended up making the transfer easily and also being the only people on the train at first (it eventually got sort of full at brig). this was a slow local train to Andermatt where you could pull down the windows to open them and everyone was doing that as it was super hot, but this made it very loud in going through tunnels as the sqeualing of the wheels was reflected back into the train. We eventually made it to Oberwald with a few minutes to spare. Then after Matt briefly panicked when the station was under construction, found the bus waiting for us at an alternate stop and got on that, we then rode for 3 stops and made our final transfer of the day again (in Gletsch) smoothly, again with the new bus waiting right where it should be several minutes early. This bus took us over the famous Furka pass location for movie car chases and was fairly exciting. Both busses had clown horns of sorts that they would blast before going around switchbacks and henry correctly described the sound as “dad messing up playing the saxophone”. We arrived at our goal stop outside the remote Tiefenbach hotel right on schedule. Matt again found himself thanking the swiss transport gods who helped us smoothly transfer from bus to train to train to train to bus to bus all well organized and in sync (not to mention the cheap/easy bag drop and transfer to zurich!)