#also side note: there was someone yesterday who responded to that post with the suggestion that suffering is generally the sufferer's fault

[queenlucythevaliant]

Just to clarify my thoughts (since I've had a number of people ask me about it) re: Job and cursing God. There's a big difference between cursing God as used in Scripture and how we generally would think of cursing at God today.

Cursing someone, in the Bible, has a lot of depth to it. It's not just saying "screw you " in anger, it's got a sense of forsakenness to it. It's the opposite of a blessing, a removal of blessing. If the blessing is presence, your face shining on the person you're blessing, then a curse is absence. In some translations, Job's wife tells him to "renounce God and die," which I honestly think makes a lot more sense to modern ears.

Job says a lot of unpleasant things to and about God in his anger and grief. So do the Psalmists. A number of the Prophets. So can we. God can take it if we come to him with honest expressions of our emotion, including those not-so-nice ones directed at him. I don't think there's anything wrong with getting mad at God and saying, "How dare you, you bastard" when you suffer unjustly. You can say much worse, I think, without sinning, though I don't feel particularly inclined to give examples. But as long as it's an honest expression of your heart, I think you're doing exactly what prayer is for. You're presenting him your heart with an open hand. He can use that. Opposite of love is not hate but indifference, etc.

Job doesn't renounce God. Neither should we. But I think when you're truly suffering, you're gonna have those feelings toward God either way. He'd rather you address them with him directly than try to avoid them. Cursing at God in the modern sense is actually a great way to keep the relationship strong and not end up cursing/renouncing him in the Biblical sense.

[retrievablememories]

what happens at night | taeyong

title: what happens at night

characters: vampire!taeyong, reader, BP jisoo, side character ocs

genre: vampire!au, fantasy, angst

summary: There has been a vampire sighting in a nearby town. You and a few other amateur vampire hunters flock to the area for fun, but are soon in over your heads when you come face to face with a real vampire. 

word count: 2.6k

warnings: some violence, use of weapons, mentions of blood and blood drinking, cursing

a/n: i got the prompt for this fic from this writing prompt post

writing vampire fic just reveals that i am maybe a little too intrigued with finding different ways to describe blood, lmao

also, this picture...are you fuckin kidding me

"Y/N, look. You aren’t gonna believe this.”

Adrienne holds the digital ledger out in front of you, and you look at it with tired, uninterested eyes until your brain registers what you’re seeing. Your eyes light up as you recognize whose face is on the screen.

“Taeyong.”

You take the ledger from her as she offers it to you, holding it tight with both hands.

“The Vampire King?” Jisoo perks up and gets up from her seat to rush over to see the ledger, peering wildly over your shoulder. Likewise, Percy makes his way over to the rest of you at a slightly speedier gait than his usual unaffected amble.

“Can’t be,” he says, shaking his head in quiet disbelief even as he looks over your other shoulder.

“But it is.”

The ledger’s screen displays the seal of Hawthorn Academy and its vampire registry, which holds the name, age, suspected location, and family lineage of every registered vampire in the world, along with a plethora of other pertinent details. On Taeyong’s profile, there is the familiar portrait of him you’ve always seen—his hair styled perfectly and curling over his forehead, and his eyes dark, piercing, and shining vermillion.

Under the list of Status Updates, there is a new entry from yesterday—a sighting nearby in the city of Dresden. Within that entry, there is a blurry, zoomed-in photo of a man in a dark trench coat and black boots, walking away from the viewer and down a shadowy street lit up with lampposts, almost too vague to be worth deciphering to the average viewer; but that silhouette is unmistakable.

“When was the last time Taeyong was seen out in public? I can hardly believe it,” Jisoo says, her voice practically trembling with awe.

“If he’s letting himself be seen, he must have specific intentions...whatever those are,” Percy notes.

“Let’s go pay Dresden a visit,” Adrienne announces, darting off to her desk and starting to gather up her essentials—phone and silver staff among them.

“Go? Pay it a visit?” Percy echoes, his mouth rounding on the word go and his eyes widening.

“Of course! Why not? Isn’t this exciting? A sighting of the Vampire King so nearby, and so recently,” Jisoo replies, grinning with all her teeth. 

Percy narrows his eyes at her, uncertainty marring his features. “Yes, but what about dangerous?”

“Come on Percy, it’ll be fun,” you chime in. “Think of it as a field trip for baby vampire hunters. Dresden is huge, anyway, there’s like zero chance we’ll actually find him.”

“Just take it as more skills training,” Adrienne adds, grabbing her backpack and heading off to her quarters to get the rest of her things. “Except this time, we’re actually in the field instead of that same boring facility.”

Percy grumbles to himself, but he knows there’s nothing much left to argue about; when the three of you outvote him on a topic, he has no choice left.

--

By the time the four of you arrive at Dresden, it’s dusk. The perfect witching hour for the vampires to be out, with the last bleeding streaks of the sun fading out of the sky. The lack of sunlight unnerves Percy even more—you can tell by his disturbed countenance—but he says nothing. He quietly follows you out of the train once it stops.

On the outside, you all look like four regular sight-seeing young adults, taking a trip from the next city over and ready for a night on the town; but most of your weapons and gear are concealed within your clothes and the backpacks you wear.

“There’s a slight blood scent here,” you note, taking in a deep lungful of air once you notice it. Indeed, there is the lingering hint of sweetness and iron, and something more musky and earthy underneath it—like decaying organic matter. The smell every vampire hunter is trained to be able to recognize—the odor of a vampire who hasn’t taken their scent blockers.

“There is, though I’m just barely picking up on it,” Jisoo agrees, waving her hand across her nose and screwing her eyebrows up. “God, I’ll never get used to that.”

“Do you think he’s been here?” Adrienne asks, leading the pack as you all walk through the train station.

“I would think a high-ranking, old-ass vamp would know better than to leave their funk trailing everywhere,” Percy disagrees. “Maybe it’s a younger one.”

“Maybe we could get an actual kill tonight, then. Our first,” Adrienne suggests, and though her tone is nonchalant, her expression betrays her enthusiasm.

You chuckle. “Wishful thinking, but maybe that would make the seniors stop treating us like children for once.”

--

Your group ends up bouncing from the train station to a pub and then to a nearby park, where a festival is being held. There’s bright lanterns, food, dancing, singing, and little kids running around galore, which makes you think these citizens either don’t know about the recent vampire sighting in their area or don’t care.

You all spend an hour mingling around and checking out the festival’s fun-filled offerings, chatting in low tones about the recent vampire appearance and trying to put your skills to the test to scout out any other vampires that might be hiding in plain sight within this mass of people.

“Hey!” Adrienne’s shout rings across the area, and you whip your head around in shock as you watch her take off running behind some teenage boy, maybe 12 or 13 at most, who has managed to nip the digital ledger from her belt and take off with it.

“What the fuck?” Percy barks, and you all shoot each other a wild, surprised look before you and him follow behind her.

“Guys, really? Don’t leave me here!” Jisoo calls out from behind you. “You don’t need three people just to get the ledger back!”

You and Percy round the alley corner that Adrienne disappeared behind and spot her farther up ahead, still hot on the boy’s trail and cursing him profusely. He’s a lot faster than he looks. Just before you can get a good look at him, he’s turning down another road with her behind him.

“Maybe we can cut him off. I’ll go down one of the connecting streets,” Percy suggests.

“Wait, what? Shouldn’t we stay together?”

“That ledger is too important to lose to some street urchin, and the seniors will never let us leave campus again if we come back without it. You go that way, I’ll be down here.” He’s ducking into an adjacent alley before you can even respond.

“Shit…” you sigh and shake your head before running down the road he indicated.

You unstrap your silver staff from a hidden section of your pants and extend it, just to be safe.

This land is not overly familiar to you, with you only having been to Dresden a couple times before. You carefully navigate your way through the maze of interconnecting streets, listening for Percy’s and Adrienne’s footfalls, which have become distinctive to you by now, and the sounds of Adrienne’s yelling. There are few people on the streets, most of them at the festival or in their homes, which makes it easier to navigate and watch for the others as you catch glimpses of them rushing past neighboring alleys.

Percy bursts into the same alleyway Adrienne is running down, finally trapping the boy between them on either end of the narrow passageway. However, the boy remains undeterred from Percy charging toward him as he deftly jumps up onto a nearby closed dumpster and uses it to launch himself over the older man.

“Shit!” Percy makes a mad grab for the end of the boy’s shirt, but the boy is a few seconds faster and narrowly gives him the slip.

“Are you serious? You can’t catch a damn kid?!” Adrienne shouts; Percy only curses again and whips around to follow the boy.

You hear the commotion from a few roads over, and you make a beeline for the area.

Just before you make it there, Adrienne screams. The sound almost startles you into dropping your staff, and you tighten your grip around it. “Adrienne?! What’s happened?”

You reach the alleyway, your shoes skidding on the ground as you nearly overshoot it, but Adrienne is nowhere in sight. You look around confused and alarmed with your chest heaving, but there is no trace of her — when she was there only seconds ago. “Adrienne?” Repeating her name still doesn’t bring her out, and you see nothing as you walk farther into the narrow back street and search every shadow and corner. Something dark and distressing settles in your stomach, and when you catch a whiff of that blood-decay smell on the night breeze, your unease turns into an avalanche of fear.

“Percy,” you whisper, and you take off again. “Percy!”

Your heartbeat rushes in your ears, nearly blocking out all other sounds, and your legs and arms burn as you run. You are abruptly stopped in your tracks as there is another shorter sound, like someone suddenly being cut off in the middle of a scream.

You desperately want to call out for him, and the syllables of his name crawl up your throat though you struggle to contain them. The blood-decay smell still inundates your senses, and whatever vampire is skulking around this maze of streets with you is likely still present somewhere. You don’t want to call any attention to yourself with a shout, though it may already be too late. 

With a spiny chill driving itself down your back, you realize everything is suddenly silent. No insects, no night birds, no other people on the streets surrounding you.

Pushing the button on your staff ejects the silver blades from both ends, and you hold it for dear life as you stand in the middle of the dim alley, shivering despite your sweat and waiting for any hint that the monster is approaching you.

It happens so quickly that it’s almost outside of your perception.

The air around you grows significantly colder even with the existing chill from the early-winter season, and you shudder once more, your jaw clenching and molars chattering against each other. When you blink again, he is standing in front of you.

Taeyong.

Melting out of the shadows and becoming one with them all at the same time, a strange liminality similar to his existence—being alive and dead in the same time and space.

His mouth and chin are wet and red from blood, presumably that of your friends and teammates, which sends an intense ache through your stomach. The newness and excitement of the vampire sighting has drained out of you, replaced with stone cold dread. You’re not sure what any of you were thinking. Percy tried to warn you, but now he is likely dead for it.

Maybe it’s a foolish move. All your training has gone out the window in your panic and fear. You make a sloppy, sudden swipe at his front with the blade of your staff; and the next thing you know, it’s flying out of your hand and clattering feet away. Behind him, and out of reach.

It takes a second for you to realize he’s knocked it out of your hand without even touching it or you; his own hand is still raised with the movement of telekinetically shifting the object. “You came terribly unprepared. I guess I shouldn’t expect anything more from you fledglings.”

Your sweaty palm slides against the other leg of your pants where a smaller silver dagger is concealed in a tearaway pocket, but that idea is useless. In the time it’d take to get any weapon out, he could kill you.

“The Academy has really been in decline the last few decades. This is the caliber of hunters they’re putting out now?” Taeyong sucks his teeth, and he takes a step closer to you. Your entire body is on high-alert, but you feel too stiff to move a muscle, and you vaguely wonder if this is somehow his doing, too. Only in the stillness of this moment do you realize that you cannot detect any of that blood scent coming directly from him, though the putridness of it still lingers in your nose. It’s coming from somewhere else, then. This confuses you more.

When he realizes you aren’t going to speak, he stops approaching you and takes a moment to really study your face, his big and curious eyes blinking slowly. The redness of his irises and the shiny, pale quality of his skin from the moonlight shining on it make him look just as surreal as he truly is.

“You’re a pretty thing. Maybe I could make you one of mine.”

“Never,” you blurt out, and it’s the first thing you can bring yourself to say to the Vampire King.

“Oh, so you can speak.” Taeyong reaches for your chin. His fingers brush the underside of it, the coolness of his skin freezing you, before you snatch away from his touch, stumbling backwards. A flash of irritation sparks on his face. 

His hand reaches for you again, this time clasping at the back of your neck, and it is impossible to move away quickly enough. “Don’t waste any more of your time fighting. This will all be over soon. Well—this life, anyway.”

His teeth in your neck are sharper than needles, making your nerves twinge with stabbing pain; and then it’s strangely pleasant, like having painkillers injected into your veins. You can’t feel anything anymore except warmth and endorphins and his fangs inside you as the alley around you smears into a bunch of incomprehensible shapes—bricks, streetlights, strewn trash, Taeyong.

--

When you wake up, you’re in an unfamiliar place. An unfamiliar bed. You startle out of unconsciousness sweating and frightened, but with barely enough strength to push yourself up on your elbows. Looking around doesn’t provide you with many more clues; this space is murky with darkness, and your vision is foggy. You think you can make out the rectangular shape of a large curtained window, but it’s unclear.

You’re still wearing your clothes from the trip, although your backpack is now gone. Your throat has never felt drier in your life, and the pounding in your head threatens to split it clean apart.

You feel sick and feverish, like your body is trying to fight against some virus it’s picked up, but you haven’t the slightest idea where you could’ve contracted anything—you didn’t even eat at the festival—until you remember—

A door opens with a bang somewhere in the distance, and it isn’t until the footsteps grow nearer and a blurry figure approaches the bed that you realize the door is the entrance of the room you're in.

“You’ll want to feed soon.” As soon as those words break the quiet, you’re struck by the pungent smell of blood. Unlike the relative lack of response it would elicit any other time, its aroma pokes at a sudden and peculiar craving inside of you, and you find yourself futilely scrabbling on the bed to reach the source. “Lucky you. I have just what you need.”

There is a cold hand tilting your face up, the press of equally cold glass against your bottom lip, then the tang of blood entering your mouth. It is the best thing you have ever tasted, and a slowly dying, still-human part of you is horrified.

You finish the blood quickly. It doesn’t really seem like enough, but it does make you feel a little less like you’re actively decomposing. Despite your hazy vision, there is no misreading the small smile on Taeyong’s face.

“Happy Birthday, little one.”

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s S2 R&S - Fireworks into the Heart

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers from an R&S (烟花入心) which has not been released in EN! 🍒

Features S2 Gavin. References are made to S2 Ch 16

[ Chapter One ]

“Wang Xiao Cui, you’ve been employed by the STF’s Logistics Department. Report to the cafeteria at 8am tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.”

I’ve been hired to work in the STF cafeteria. 

As a nutritionist with over thirty years of experience, joining the STF isn’t a problem for me.

My old companion isn’t able to understand why I’m not using my years of retirement to enjoy life. Without giving him a response, I simply smoothen the small creases on my STF uniform carefully.

As an ordinary person, the STF always had a mysterious and prestigious impression in my eyes. Agents who are able to work here are all heroes with indomitable spirits.

Being able to take care of their meals and enable them to get more nutrition every day to strengthen their bodies and better protect Loveland City gives me a sense of honour in protecting this city too.

Based on my experience, taking care of a group of young people is a piece of cake. However, I didn’t expect to make the mistake of underestimating this place.

-

Standing in front of the cafeteria’s bleak signboard at 7.30am, I witness several agents carrying Tianjin-style deep-friend dough sticks through the doors. Someone even carries several bags of fried beef buns. While walking, he speaks in a loud voice:

"I braved the risk of running laps to bring you guys fried buns again!”

“During training later, no one’s allowed to snatch that new gun from me.”

The other agents let out a “tsk”, taking the fried buns and chilli paste from him before dividing them amongst themselves.

Fresh out of the oven, hot steam rises from the buns in the cafeteria, and nobody bats an eye. The master who steamed the buns has already grown accustomed to this. They stand in groups of twos and threes, engaging in idle chatter.

Why doesn’t anyone in the STF like eating food from the cafeteria?

Unable to figure out an answer after much thought, I happen to spot a handsome lad dressed in a white uniform. His steps are steady, and he brings along a breeze when he walks. I immediately call out to him.

“Hey! Young lad, wait.”

The handsome lad stops in his footsteps, giving me a sweeping glance out of the corner of his eye.

“Do you need help with anything?”

“No no, I'm the new nutritionist in the cafeteria. I just wanted to ask you something. Why don’t the STF agents love to eat cafeteria food? From what I can see, the Nourishing Meal has meat and vegetables, and it’s pretty rich in nutrition.”

The handsome lad is silent for a moment before responding to my question.

“The healthy meals place too much focus on health, and they don’t taste any better than the small stalls outside.”

“Captain Gavin, the materials from yesterday’s case have been tidied up.”

“Mm, I’ll have a look at them.”

The handsome lad who was addressed as “Captain Gavin” sees that I have no further questions. Giving me a nod, he takes large strides towards the office.

With a frown, I take a bite out of a celery meat bun. Aside from the taste being slightly bland, I don’t find anything wrong with it. Furthermore, adding too much salt would reduce its nutritional value, so it’s a given that less salt would be added to it.

However, since this point was brought up, it means there’s room for improvement.

In order to prepare food that better suits the palate of STF, I spend a whole week lying low and observing the favourite eateries that the STF agents enjoy eating most, and try out all of their famous dishes.

Based on their palate, I meticulously prepare a modified version of trial dishes.

On the first day of introducing the trial dishes, I brim with enthusiasm while bringing out a “New Dishes to Try” signboard, thinking that this would raise the reputation of the STF’s cafeteria. However, even after half a day, the only things that enter are mosquitoes which I swat to death.

There’s a cold breeze at the entrance. I look at the clock hanging on the wall of the cafeteria - lunchtime is almost over.

Deciding not to wait any longer, I head outside, planning to grab a few people in to try the dishes.

The moment I step outside, my eyes brighten when I see that lad from before.

His footsteps are hurried, and he has a packet of instant noodles in his hand. He probably has to deal with some urgent matters, which is why he has to make do with that for lunch.

How is that good? An STF agent eating instant noodles? Where would I, a nutritionist, hide my pride? I hurriedly stop him.

“Young lad, there are new dishes in the cafeteria. Since you’re about to eat, why don’t you try the cafeteria? It’d be a quick meal.”

He pauses in his footsteps for a slight moment, his refusal ready. However, when he sees the menu behind me, he suddenly blinks, then looks up to give me a nod.

“I’ll have to trouble you then.”

With this, he walks into the cafeteria. I look at the menu. There’s only a simple line written on it - “Today’s Special: Chicken with Chilli”.

Does he like eating chicken with chilli?

[Note] To be precise, this dish is called 辣子鸡 (là zǐ jī). It’s a a stir-fried dish consisting of marinated then deep-fried pieces of chicken, dried Sichuan chilli peppers, spicy bean paste, Sichuan peppers, garlic, and ginger.

[ Chapter Two ]

The young man eats quickly and seriously. Ignoring the fact that that he’s eating at an unhealthy pace, I feel very relieved. When he walks over to return the tray, I ask him a question.

“You’re done, young lad? How’s the taste? Do you think there’s anything to improve on?”

The young man sets the tray down. After a moment of serious contemplation, he give his response.

“The taste isn’t bad. If you’re asking for suggestions, since it’s chicken with chilli, you could add a little more chilli.”

I record his suggestions in my notebook earnestly. At the same time, I’m secretly amazed at how members of the STF are truly talented individuals. I created this chicken with chilli dish based on the spice levels in Sichuan cuisine, but he still didn’t find it spicy enough.

Look like there’s much room for improvement in future dishes.

-

The next day, I continue with my plan to introduce trial dishes. However, most of the STF agents are already used to eating out. The ones who try the dishes are few and far between. Just as lunchtime is about to end, a familiar figure once again appears at the door of the cafeteria.

He’s the young man who ate the chicken with chilli yesterday.

He walks straight in, taking a tray and getting food. Although he doesn’t say anything, I feel very moved, and wonder if this kid dropped by specially to support the canteen’s business.

I inform him that red braised pork is being served today, accompanied with bitter gourd and scrambled eggs. He seems a little hesitant when he sees the bitter gourd. But in the end, he doesn’t say anything, finding a place to sit down and eat.

-

Over the next two weeks, it seems that as long as he isn’t out on missions or doing anything else, that young man would come to the cafeteria.

It appears that he’s a Captain or something. With his impetus, more and more people gradually eat in the cafeteria, and I have a better understanding of his reticent young man.

His name is Gavin, and he’s the Captain of the Special Ops Team. I heard that the Special Ops team is the hardest squad to get into within the STF. They are one of the very best in terms of resolved cases. Everyone in the team are the cream of the crop, much less the Captain.

I heard about how this Captain usually rushes to the most forefront when faced with any danger, which is why he receives much adoration from the team. Of course, the number of injuries and stack of silk banners in the storeroom are proportional to each other.

On the days when he isn’t around, there’s a high chance that he’s out on a mission, or having his injuries treated in the infirmary.

-

“Aunt Wang, give me the same chicken with chilli as Captain Gavin!”

A red-haired agent’s voice pulls me back to reality. He carries a tray, pointing at the chicken with chilli from across the glass. I give him a huge scoop of it. He carries the tray and sits at a row of tables close to the window. There are quite a number of people donning the same uniform, and Gavin is one of them.

“Captain Gavin, why have you fled from our braised beef noodles alliance? You’ve also stopped eating cup noodles with us when we work overtime.”

“Mm, this is something you’re unaware of. Our Captain Gavin has someone who cares for him.”

"Last time, that Miss Producer was filming something and gave us handmade biscuits. You were on leave so you didn’t know about this. Captain Gavin’s biscuits were several times more exquisite than ours. They were even heart-shaped.”

The agents wink at each other and chatter on incessantly. Gavin, the main topic of the conversation, continues eating calmly. When he finally feels slightly annoyed by the clamour, he puts down his chopsticks, glancing at the red-haired agent.

“Tang Chao, it seems that your stamina is getting better with your daily laps.”

“You’ll be my partner for the next mission.”

The red-haired agent immediately pulls a long face.

“Captain Gavin, it's not that I don’t want to be your partner. But based on my fighting skills, I’ll only be a burden to you.”

“I’ll continue shining as a support personnel, and be an emotionless lie detector for the Special Ops Team!”

Gavin ignores the red-haired officer whose name is Tang Chao. But when he lowers his head to drink the soup, I can see his slightly arched brows.

Over the past two weeks, I’ve always been seeing his composed and chilly side, and even thought that was his personality. It turns that he’s still a young man. It’s just that he hides that unrestrained aura that young people have, and doesn’t display it easily.

Perhaps that’s the fetter of being a Captain.

Looking at these young people, I suddenly feel as though I’ve found the reason why my trial dishes have not been successful.

It’s probably because I’ve never tried to truly understand this group of young people.

[ Chapter Three ]

I’m no longer stubborn when it comes to the dishes. Instead, I pay more attention to observing the dietary habits of this group of young people. Gradually, many more pages on the notebook which I use to record modified recipes are written on.

Everything goes smoothly. However, I notice that Gavin hasn’t visited the cafeteria for meals in a long while.

When the red-haired officer comes to collect his food, I scoop pork ribs and winter melon soup for him, and find myself asking him a question.

“Why hasn’t your Captain been coming down to eat in the cafeteria these days?”

He scratches his head, his tone less carefree as before.

“Captain Gavin’s injuries from this mission were a little more serious, so he’s still getting treated in the hospital.”

Before coming to the STF, the word “injuries” was associated with a sliced finger from cutting vegetables, or being scratched while playing with a cat. But after coming to the STF, I realised that there are many other ways people can get hurt.

The STF has doctors who understand Evolvers most in the whole of Loveland City. Logically speaking, even if it’s a fracture or external bleeding, patients can typically be discharged in a week.

That young man called Gavin hasn’t appeared in such a long time. Is he severely injured?

Even though we haven’t exchanged many words, I can’t help but worry about that young man.

He’s still so young. If anything were to happen to him, how worried would his family members be?

Perhaps due to the fact that he was the first agent willing to try food from the cafeteria, I find myself being more concerned about him, and wanting to know more about him. However, STF agents are disciplined and strict. When they’re eating in the cafeteria, they rarely mention Gavin. When he’s occasionally brought up, they say things that I’m unable to understand.

“She went to the hospital again today.”

“That’s fine. Her presence at the hospital is much more useful than a few of us going. At least Captain Gavin would smile a little when he sees her. When we’re there, we’re like stalks of grain, and can do nothing but watch helplessly.”

“The next time the ‘Snake’ bites, we can’t let Captain Gavin hold the fort again.”

In the fog of their conversation, I’m unable to understand anything. I’m getting old, and my ears aren’t as useful. I shake my head, turning around and heading back into the kitchen.

-

Just when I think Gavin’s injuries have rendered him unable to return to the team, he appears.

While I’m writing the lunch menu on the whiteboard, I spot Gavin and his squad mates walking in together. He has become much thinner, and looks very pale. Even so, his entire frame remains as solemn as always, a sense of sharpness emanating from him.

When I hand him braised beef noodles, he gives me a nod.

“Thanks.”

He picks up the chopsticks and eats the noodles. When he sees the slices of beef in the bowl, he’s slightly stunned. However, he returns to normal in an instant, continuing to eat as usual.

When they’re halfway through eating, the communication device at Gavin’s waist suddenly beeps. He presses the communication device, his expression changing when he hears the message.

“The ‘Snake’ has left the hole. Take action.”

With his command, everyone abandon their meal and hurriedly leave the cafeteria.

When Gavin passes by me, I can see traces of blood on the side of his sleeve.

It appears that he’s leaving for a mission before his wounds have completely healed.

The cafeteria lapses into silence. I tidy the table, looking at the beef noodles which only had a few bites taken out of it, and let out a heavy sigh.

I know how difficult it is to join the STF. People who join the STF are so incredible. But I still wish to know what kind of reasons would make such a young person charge forward and risk his life to the point where he can’t even have a proper meal.

[ Chapter Four ]

It’s very late at night, but the STF remains brightly lit.

Similar to the busy agents, I haven’t left either.

After this period of research and testing dishes, I discovered that the people here aren’t picky. They simply lack the time to sit down and eat slowly.

With this in mind, I restart the dish modifications.

The television in the cafeteria is currently showing the Loveland News. The host is reporting on something about “Evol Assassination Incidents”, and is criticising how the STF hasn’t been doing anything about them.

“Things here are turning upside down from how busy they are, and the infirmary is filled with people. And you claim that they aren’t doing anything? Reporters are so irresponsible these days.”

I shake my head, switching the television off. After calling a few colleagues over, we carry supper to the infirmary.

Due to the incident the news was reporting about, the STF has been in a mess recently. I heard that there aren’t enough beds in the infirmary for use.

My heart aches from how these kids are getting criticised even after getting injured. I’ve prepared sweet soup suitable for evening consumption, bringing them to the infirmary while they get treated.

While passing by the Captain’s office, I notice that the door isn’t closed, and I see someone standing inside.

It’s Gavin.

His side is facing the door, his hair is messy, and he’s leaning against the wall. One of his legs is lifted up, and he’s currently pursing his lips as he removes his combat gloves.

He appears to have lacked sleep for several days, and quiet fatigue emanates from his entire frame.

However, he doesn’t seem to have shown this side of him to anyone outside, demanding himself to only leave this version of himself to an empty office in the depths of night.

I knock on the door. The moment he hears this, he quickly straightens up, his sharp gaze sweeping over. When he sees that it’s me, his amber eyes are stunned, and he nods.

“Please come in.”

Walking in, I place a bowl of snow fungus soup on his table.

“Everyone has been working hard in the bureau lately. We decided to make some sweet soup for all of you to relieve the fatigue. Drink this soup while it’s hot. There’s Chinese wolf berry and longan in it, so it’s pretty nourishing.”

Gavin nods. Stray hairs stick messily against the sides of his eyes and brows. I’m guessing that since he’s a kid who usually puts up a strong front, he probably doesn’t like others seeing his sorry state. I hurriedly wave my hands to signal that I’m leaving.

Before I walk out of the door, Gavin suddenly asks me a question.

“Aunt Wang, is your cafeteria recipe modification going smoothly?”

I can hardly believe that he actually remembered such a trivial matter.

Just how many things does he concern himself with?

“Very smoothly. I’ve been looking into a new fast-food style beef noodles, and plan to introduce it to the bureau.”

“Fast-food beef noodles?”

“Mm. There used to be very few people in the cafeteria because I only paid attention to maintaining the nutritional value of dishes. But if people don’t even have the time to eat, how can I talk about nutrition?”

“Right now, I’m looking into preparing beef noodles that are both nutritious and can be eaten really quickly. Such noodles are more diverse in flavour, and the nutritional value is easy to maintain.”

After saying all of this, I follow up with a question.

“But I'm still considering whether to use bean sprouts or eggs as a substitute. Which do you prefer?”

Perhaps few people have asked him something as trivial as his dietary preferences. He gives this very serious thought before providing a careful answer.

“I’d prefer eggs.”

I nod, then find myself giving him my sincere and earnest wishes.

“No matter how busy work is, you need to have proper meals. Even though rice and vegetables seem simple, they are part of life.”

“Whenever you head forward so urgently, have you ever thought of whether you might be forcing yourself too much?”

When Gavin hears this, he’s taken back. I don’t continue. With a sigh, I turn around and leave.

[ Chapter Five ]

The new fast-food beef noodles introduced in the canteen received a huge welcome amongst the agents. It became the favourite supper of agents who worked overtime on cases. Given the positive responses, I also released different flavoured fast-food products. 

With this signature dish, the STF canteen finally became lively every day.

But the strange things is, I didn’t see Gavin for a very long time. I heard that he... temporarily relieved himself of his duties.

I have no idea what happened, but I trust that he had his reasons, and I silently hope that the kid can be safe.

Afterwards, a strange fog enveloped Loveland City. I was protected by STF agents, and later heard that Gavin was the one who retrieved the fog.

-

I’m just about to prepare dinner in the cafeteria when I hear the news that Gavin’s in the hospital. News related to the STF’s retrieval of the fog is being broadcasted, and Gavin’s powerful and resounding voice can be heard.

“This round of the Hunter Game is over.”

I lift my head to see that familiar figure on the television, determined and composed.

“Thank you all for protecting the dignity of this city.”

When he had meals in the cafeteria before, I often wondered how this taciturn young man could persevere on his own, shouldering high pressure that ordinary people find difficult, and also protect tens of thousands of ordinary people.

Right now, I understand.

It’s because he has a heart of justice that’s gentler and more unwavering than anyone else - 

And this heart has guided him onto a path destined to be rugged, where he will pursue justice with no second thoughts.

But I’m still a little puzzled. Doesn’t he find it lonely when walking down this path?

With the assistance of the red-haired agent, I carry chicken wonton soup to Gavin’s hospital ward.

The door is closed, and I can hear an indistinct voice of a girl drifting from the inside.

From across the glass, I see a girl sitting at the bedside, a pink bento box on the table.

The girl is resting a hand against her cheek while supervising Gavin as he eats the bento. Meanwhile, the young man sitting on the bed is eating it one mouthful at a time, earnestly and tenderly.

For some reason, I find myself grinning.

On this path filled with ups and downs, someone is willing to accompany him, wait for him, sit down together with him, and have a serious, proper meal with him.

I leave the hospital with the thermos box.

Being here for so many days, I’ve grown used to this place, grown used to the whistle at 6.30am in the morning, grown used to the agents finishing their meals within ten minutes and rushing off, and grown used to the lights in STF illuminating my path like starlight when I’m heading home at night.

My old companion often asks why an oldie like me continues going to the STF. 

It’s because I can see a broader world here. I can see souls with determined spirits. I’ve never felt more alive and fulfilled in my entire lifetime.

This is the meaning that STF gives me.

I hope that the young man called Gavin, as well as the countless young people who are like Gavin, will always lead a fulfilling life.

...and that they may always be safe.

May he, along with the girl he watches silently, return to life through every meal while embracing justice.

💙 More S2 content: here

💙 Support the cafe by dropping by the tip jar!

[nugnthopkns]

i’ll tell you i was wrong if you dance with me

word count: 3.3k

warnings: explicit fem!reader, slightly unhealthy relationship moment (lack of communication), mention of infidelity, cursing, alcohol consumption, a fair bit of angst

recommended listening: fred astaire | adam brock

a/n: communicate with your partners!!! also yeah this is the song from lady bird. it’s a banger

This seriously isn’t happening. 

You never fight with Travis. Communication comes easy between the two of you, but you also make it a priority to talk about your feelings. It keeps things from boiling over; both of you are known to unleash wicked tempers on occasion and have found being direct stops issues from occuring. Arguments still occasionally happen, but they’re typically over trivial things like what movie to watch or where you’re spending the holidays. Travis apparently forgot about the fact you talk to each other about things. 

He’d been upset when he came home from practice, but you were pretty sure he was fine after he woke up from his pre-game nap. Knowing he’s a superstitious person and has a lot of pressure on him to put up points, you had made the choice not to ask about what was bothering him. Throwing off his routine could have detrimental consequences. Tonight's game is tighter than it should have been, but the Flyers come out on top. Travis spends a bit more time in the penalty box than you would have liked, but everyone was getting chippy by the start of the third period. Claude tries to talk to him on the bench but he gets shut down. Whatever Travis was upset about before is still clearly bothering him, and it’s affecting his game. 

You’re following Travis home from the game, and can tell he’s uptight from the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. As you wind through downtown Philadelphia you try and prepare yourself for any bomb that could drop. Chances are that when you reach your apartment things will explode. Maybe it’s nothing; Travis is fine and just wants to be a responsible driver for once. You pull into the free spot beside his car and see him walking towards the elevator, suit jacket balled up and tucked under his arm. This won’t be good. Trying to buy yourself some time, you take the stairs. Seven flights later you arrive outside your door; he left it unlocked, which gives you a sliver of hope things will be fine. 

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” you call into the darkness of the apartment. Your sneakers are left at the door and to retreat towards the bedroom, looking for a sign of life. You find one in the bathroom: the light is on. A gentle push on the door reveals your boyfriend is in the shower and ignoring you. 

“Trav?”

“Yeah,” he huffs, words muffled by him tossing his head back to rinse the shampoo of his hair. Apparently the shower isn’t as relaxing as he had hoped. 

You don’t bother to tread lightly, upset that he’s acting like a child. “You’re being an asshole. I get that you had a bad day, but you can’t take it out on me. I just want to help.”

Travis turns the water off suddenly. “Can’t help if you’re the problem,” he scoffs. 

His statement doesn’t make sense. You’ve done nothing out of the ordinary the past couple of days; nothing that would warrant the behaviour you’re receiving. “What do you mean?”

Shouldering passed you to exit the room, Travis doesn’t bother to respond. You’re beyond frustrated: partners in healthy relationships communicate, not show emotions like grade schoolers. “You’re not giving me the fucking silent treatment Travis. You gotta talk to me.” The bedroom is dark when you enter and you flick the overhead light on to see better.

“You really don’t know?”

“Of course I don’t know,” you seethe. “If I did know we wouldn’t be in this predicament because we’d be solving the issue.”

The glare you receive is sharp enough to cut stone. He pulls on a t-shirt, anger clear in the aggression he does it with. “Why did I have to find out from Carter that you’ve been getting coffee with your TA?”

You’re shocked. In no way is it what he thinks it is. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you sigh, upset that Travis would take someone else’s words at face value and not talk to you about it. 

“I’m dead fucking serious Y/N. You preach communication, but it looks as though you’re the one who hasn’t been doing enough talking.”

The room around you starts to spin. You can’t comprehend what he’s insinuating. “Wait, you think I’m cheating on you?” you ask. There has been a gross miscommunication error somewhere; never in a million years would you think of having an affair.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well what the fuck did you say?”

Travis tugs at the roots of his hair in frustration. He doesn’t answer immediately, pacing the length of the bed a few times. “I just–” he struggles to articulate his words. “I just said that you’re being a bit hypocritical, don’t you think? You’re standing here yelling at me because I didn’t voice my concerns, but you haven’t been talking to me about what’s going on in your life.” Travis’ tone is sharp, and it stings. 

It’s your turn to show how upset you are. Your hands curl into fists at your side, and you squeeze your nails into your palms before releasing them. “I do tell you what goes on in my life Travis,” your breathing ragged as you try to not lose your cool. “I ran into my TA at the coffee shop yesterday, and he paid for my drink because my card wouldn’t work. Didn’t think it was breaking news, sorry I don’t send you every single fucking life update that happens. What’s gotten into you?”

“You could have been cheating!” 

“But I wasn’t!” you scream, no longing caring about keeping up appearances. You can’t believe Travis would think that. It hurts. “And I never would! You know this”

He turns his back to you, like it pains him to look at you, but you don’t understand why. You're not the one suggesting infidelity. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?” he seethes. 

“That’s all there is to say! There’s nothing to explain, no secret to uncover. I’m not in the wrong here.”

“And you think I am?”

You look at Travis like he has three heads. “Are you serious? You’re the one who’s so fucking upset over a situation that could have happened to literally anyone.” Your tone suggests that you’re exhausted with the conversation, and Travis gets the hint. 

He slinks towards the door, still visibly angry. “I’ll take the couch tonight,” he grits out before tightly gripping the doorknob and shutting the door with more force than needed. 

The bed doesn’t look appealing, full of much happier memories, but fighting with Travis has knocked any and all energy out of you. You gingerly pull back the covers and slip underneath. Tears trickle down your cheek as you toss and turn, trying to fall into some sort of slumber. However, your mind has other ideas, replaying the blowout. You can’t begin to understand why Travis is so bothered by the instance, and more importantly why it caused him to disregard a fundamental part of your relationship. There’s little movement from beyond the door, but you can hear the faint noise of a Johnny Cash record playing from the speakers in the living room. After hours of staring at the ceiling your eyes close and a fitful sleep follows. 

You might have gotten nine hours of sleep, but you wake up feeling exhausted. Fighting with anyone drains you, but fighting with Travis is especially terrible because it rarely happens. There doesn’t seem to be any movement from the other side of the door; maybe he’s still asleep. You refrain from heading into the kitchen, unsure of what will happen if you see him. After nearly twenty minutes you can’t wait any longer to start your day and pad into the main living space. It’s empty: no sign that Travis has been there for many hours. Guess you don’t have to immediately deal with the fallout of last night. 

A post-it note is tacked onto the fridge handle and your heart skips a beat. In Travis’ chicken scratch it reads I’ll see you at the gala tonight. We’ve got media all day and I won’t be back in time for us to go together. There’s no mention of the fight, and you can’t judge from a two sentence note whether or not he’s still pissed off. 

“Fuck,” you groan. “The gala.” Tonight’s the annual Flyers Give Back gala, and you’re expected to be in attendance. It’s not even a charity event; the organization is offering a chance for business men to chat up the players in hopes they continue to donate. You find things like these unbearable and tedious, but Travis does his best to make them enjoyable. Not knowing what page you’re on with him is going to be terrible. There’s a pretty good chance he’ll ignore you if he’s still upset. 

As if someone is reading your mind, the better halves group chat starts to explode. Everyone is chattering excitedly about tonight, and under normal circumstances you’d be excited to see them in such a relaxed setting. It’s been a while you’ve all hung out, but you can’t find yourself to contribute to the conversation. You mute the notifications and do your best to move on with your day. The rest of the morning is spent working on your thesis; mind numbing work that almost makes you forget about everything that happened in the past twenty-four hours. Once you’ve hit an acceptable word count for the day you shutdown your computer and make lunch. 

The grilled cheese sandwich you eat while watching a John Mulaney comedy special fulfills your appetite but doesn’t curb your dread. You decide to call your sister, hoping she can be a welcome distraction. Dialling her number you sink further into the couch cushions, wrapping yourself tightly with a blanket so that only your head is poking out. “What’s up?” she asks, and you hear her shuffle in the background, presumably to move somewhere more private. It isn’t normal for you to call her unannounced. 

You hold it together for approximately two seconds. The tears start and they don’t stop. Every emotion you’ve felt since getting home last night comes to the surface, and before you know it you’re sobbing into the receiver. 

“Woah, slow down,” she says. “Y/N, take some deep breaths.” When your breathing returns to a somewhat regular level she continues speaking. “What happened?”

It takes you nearly twenty minutes to tell the whole story because you’re so distraught. No detail is spared, and you go back much farther than is probably needed. You recount what happened after yesterday’s practice, pretty much the entire game, and the fight that followed. “I just don’t know what brought this on,” you sniffle. “We don’t fight, we talk about things. I’m not sure if I’m more upset at what he insinuated or at the fact he broke a cardinal rule.”

Your sister sighs, and you hear her breath fan in slight annoyance. You’re worked up about something kinda stupid, you know, but you can’t let it slide. “It’s probably a bit of both. So, what are you going to do?”

“What can I do? I know that we need to talk about what happened, but a public event is not the best place to do that. I also can’t not show up or ask Trav to ditch in order to figure this out. We have to be there.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it figured out then.”

You really don’t. “What happens if he ignores me the entire night?”

She laughs and tells you to not to anything stupid, and to take your mind off of things tells you a story about your nephew eating dirt. It does the trick; you’re momentarily distracted and forget about Travis. You talk for a while longer before she has to go. “Miles is crying, will you be okay if I let you go?”

It’s your turn to laugh. “I’ll be fine,” you insist. A glance at the clock tells you it’s time to start getting ready. “I’ve gotta shower and start the process. Beauty is time consuming you know.”

Against your better judgement you open your text messages to see if there’s anything from Travis. His text thread is the same as it was yesterday and you’re disappointed. You had hoped that maybe he’d get bored between interviews and check in. With no new notifications you exit out of the application and pull up a playlist you hope will brighten your mood. The steam from the shower relaxes your tense muscles and warms you up. It’s comforting in the way a cocoon is; you practically have to drag yourself out of the bathtub. 

Your bedroom is cold and doesn’t offer the same respite as the bathroom. The music continues to float in from the hallway, and you allow yourself to get lost in it. It’s been a while since you danced around your room; it worked to cure sadness when you were a teenager. Hopefully the magic hasn’t worn off. You flail your arms, not caring how silly you look since no one is here to see you anyways, and scream along at the top of your lungs. After a few songs you feel better and return to the task at hand. The dress code is labelled as ‘black tie’ on the invitation, but that isn’t what you’re worried about. You own a million dresses for situations like this after being with Travis for so long. You don’t know what he packed to wear, and there’s a decent chance you’ll be pushed together for photos. Clashing colours will look terrible.

A quick glance through his side of the closest leaves you no clues, so you decide to be as literal as possible. Black is a flattering colour and works well with every colour combination. There’s a jumpsuit hanging in the back that catches your eye and you think it’s the perfect choice. After pulling it on you move back into the bathroom to do your hair and makeup. Everything is natural and relaxed; once again for the sake of potential photos. The clock strikes on the hour and you realize it’s time to leave. A pair of heels are slipped on and you order an Uber before locking the apartment and heading to the lobby. You had thought about driving yourself, but on the occasion that things don’t end well with Travis you’ll probably have more than a couple of drinks. 

The entire way to the venue your leg bounces up and down. It’s been years since you’ve been this nervous about being around the team. You’ve been with Travis for a few seasons now, and the organization has become a second family to you. No one is going to know about the fight and you worry they’re going to talk about your solo arrival. The outside of the convention centre is sharply decorated, and your driver lets out a low whistle at the extravagance of it all. “Thank you so much,” you gush, and exit the car. Thankfully no photographers are set up outside, and you dart inside without being seen. 

Once in the main event space, you scan for the bar. There’s no sign of Travis, which should make you more relaxed but doesn’t. What if there was an accident on the way to the venue? You have no idea where he was all or who he came with. Overthinking distracts you from your original goal, leaving you standing aimlessly in the middle of the room. 

“You look like you might need one of these,” Ryanne chuckles, handing you a champagne flute. You gladly accept and down it in two gulps. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, eyes scanning to see if your boyfriend has made an appearance. 

She sees right through your facade of calm and wraps you in a tight hug. “What’s going on?”

For a second time today you explain what happened last night. There’s no judgement from Ryanne as there might have been from your sister because she understands. Dating a professional athlete isn’t easy; things like this happen much more frequently than you’d expect. Perhaps it’s all the time spent apart that makes the occasional lapse in communication so apparent. She listens quietly, full attention on you. To your credit you don’t cry this time, slightly more numb to the situation to due more time passing. It still hurts a tremendous amount. 

“He’ll come around,” Ryanne insists. “TK is a little moronic sometimes, but he’d never jeopardize his relationship with you. You’re quite literally the most important thing in his life.”

 “I know. I’m just upset because the whole thing could have been avoided.”

She offers you a sympathetic smile. “I know.” Ryanne links her arm through yours. “Let’s go find something to snack on.”

You spend most of the night with Ryanne, and occasionally Claude when he can get away from the hot-shot businessmen. Travis eventually came in, flanked by Nolan, but was immediately pulled into the politics of the night. The two of you occasionally sneak glances at each other and you tell he’s uncomfortable. You can only hope it isn’t because of your presence. It’s nearing eleven; the party has become a much more relaxed affair, and the DJ is playing sappy love songs in an attempt to get the media team some good photo ops. An intern asks the Giroux’s if they’ll dance for an instagram story and they both look hesitant. “Go on guys, I’ll be fine,” you reassure. It’s the subtle push they need to enjoy a quiet moment together. 

As if he can sense you’re lonely and feel out of place, Travis approaches you. It’s tentative, like he’s petrified you’ll turn him away, but he comes regardless. Drinks are in each of his hands and he extends one to you. When you don’t take it he sets it on the table behind you. “Hi,” he says sheepishly, fiddling with something in his pocket. 

“Hi Travis.” You’re determined not to let his presence crack your resolve; last night illuminated a big issue and it needed to be dealt with. It’s proving to be difficult because he bumps a shoulder against yours and all you can think of is kissing him senseless. 

The song changes to a Bruce Springsteen ballad, and you recognize it instantly. It played at the coffee shop on your first date with Travis all those years ago. One look at him tells you this isn’t an accident, that he had requested it specifically for the two of you. “Dance with me?”

You sigh deeply, looking him in the eyes. “Trav, this isn’t going to magically fix things.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he pleads. “I fucked up so bad last night because I was being an idiot. I wrote down everything I would do differently if I had a time machine, look.” A hand reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of paper filled with his nearly illegible print. “Just one dance, and then we can go home and talk about it like I should have suggested in the first place. Let me know we’re still okay.”

If you hadn’t been in public you’re sure Travis would have been in tears. It’s not necessarily a good look to cry in front of hundreds of sponsors. He has a reputation as the goofy boy who takes no shit to uphold. “You have a lot of talking ahead of you,” you say, and let him drag you onto the dance floor. Swaying in his arms you realize things are going to be just fine. Travis loves you and you love him; there’s nothing the two of you can’t work through. 

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales​ @kiedhara​ @tortito​ if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Summer Nights (2)

A/N: Is that... is that...? The unbridled enthusiasm I’m hearing? Or are you trying to reach me with torches and pitchforks for being so untrustworthy? Assuming the first option.

Anyway -- Yes, as I promised, this is the second part of the Summer Nights which you would hopefully enjoy. Waiting for your feedback. It’s the INDEX if you need a refresher.

ALSO, I give a lot of credit to @drawlfoy and @bored-and-botheredwho helped me with editing this chapter and steamed off my emotional breakdown related to my writing (lmao). I love you so much gals and a big THANK U once more!!!

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: coarse language; alcohol; Narcissa turning into a shitty-mother (lol)

Tags: @war-sword @paradigmax @winnsmills @idkatee@bforbroadway @okaydraco

The next thing Draco knew, he was being woken up with a massive hangover in the snuggly, way-too-comfortable bed by the high-pitched squeal of his mother.

"You, darling, made a lot of trouble for yourself yesterday," Narcissa admonished her son, a glacial cool look on her face. Entering Draco's hotel apartment, she walked over to the window and opened the drapes with one swift movement, splashing an annoyed Draco with light. He groaned, not yet daring to complain due to his mother's livid mood, to say the least.

"You have no idea of what happened yesterday, do you?"

"Yyy-" was the only sound he could make. God, where to the fuck was he? He hadn't been this plastered in forever.

"Of course you don't." Narcissa shook her head and laughed nervously, although she made it plainly obvious there was nothing humorous about the situation. "You blacked out so hard in that sleazy bar there is no way you can recall anything from yesterday. Look at you -- you are squinting at me like I'm the sun!"

Draco nervously ran his finders through his disheveled hair. He was definitely not in the right mind to provoke the conflict. "I left you the note at the reception," he informed her, trying to slickly get out of the unenviable conversation. "Told the receptionist to hand it over."

Contrary to his mother's accusatory ascertainment, he actually had some glimpses of the previous night (or should he say an all-night rave?). There were for sure drinks -- a lot of drinks; a variety of kinds he didn't recognize from the magical world but still guzzled delightfully. The second recollection was dancing --which wasn't his intention, but with some luck of his -- got invited by some hot-looking chicks from across the table. And yes, he definitely remembers the swaying and the rhythmical moving of the hips along with some cheesy muggle vibes mixed with the smell of booze and weed. Maybe he even hooked up with one of the girls? The last thing he recollects before passing out, almost like through a haze, was seeing Narcissa's furious face screaming something incoherent at him. Overall, that's his all night wrapped in one.

"Do you think the mere note 'I will be fine' was going to calm down my shattered nerves? Draco Lucius Malfoy, I swear to our dear ancestors, I did not raise you to act so irresponsibly." She waved the finger at him warningly. “We come from rich history. You are the descendant from a line of successful forefathers who put their effort into building up our reputation. Do you think Lucius would approve of such unrestrained behavior? I’ve been already hearing of letting you be too careless. Is tha-"

"Mother, could we skip the lecture?" Draco snapped angrily, try as he might to suppress it. "I've heard it too many times. All I’m trying to have is a peaceful life. Without the prying eyes of the media and the meddling of my family..."

"And all I’m trying to have is an integrated, happy family to offer you support and love.” Draco opened his mouth to cut her in, but she shushed him with a wave, clearly suggesting 'Don’t even get me started’ meaning. “I’ve been- been trying  to get a job, going through the infelicitous job interviews and looking for a solution to help our household through the post-war crisis. Have you shown any interest in that? Any?"

"But mo-"

"The last thing I want to have on my mind is dealing with your ignorant, boyish transitional stages, and let me tell you -- you do not make it any easier for me," she said without taking a breath. She exhaled slowly and continued, this time forcing a softer tone. "I ask you one thing for this summer. Let it be an enjoyable time without unnecessary conflicts. We have come to the beautiful country as France. Let's make a good thing out of it."

Draco, who was already wide awake by the buzz of adrenaline, looked at her with a serious expression. Scanning her face made him suddenly realize how hard must it have been for her to bear everything, and seeing the bags of tiredness under her beautiful, hazel eyes stopped him from retorting. "Mother, no matter what happens, I'll always support you. Remember that."

Narcissa smiled. “Oh. I know, honey, I know.” This time she lowered her voice by two octaves, slowly sitting at the edge of the bed. “It’s just… people have been gossiping behind our backs lately, partly throwing the blame at us. All I’m trying to do is protect us from those tormentors. But your binge drinking is not making the deadlock any better, and it drives me mad.” She chortled a little bit and patted Draco’s palm. “So, until the rumors die down, all we can do is raise our chins high.” Narcissa ended, her voice encouraging yet plaintive.

The last thing Draco liked is seeing his mother on the verge of emotional exhaustion, like in this moment. He felt an instant surge of sympathy, so he quickly found himself locking Narcissa in the supportive embrace. She responded to the gesture by wrapping her arms around her son’s neck and stroking his cheek delicately with the back of her hand, just like in the old times. Both of them yearningly wished to come back to those years of frivolity.

"I promise I'll try to be better," Draco said with certainty. Seeing Narcissa’s eyes light up in gratefulness and the smiley dimples form on her features, he assured himself it was the right thing to say at that mother-son moment.

“How could I be so lucky to have such a wise boy,” she muttered proudly, kissing Draco at the top of his head. “But perhaps you should not restrain yourself too much during the holiday. I give you the partial alibi per se. Just keep it under control.”

Smiling, Narcissa got up, straightening up her impeccable posture as in the habit of the high-status woman. For the first time in that day, Draco noticed how elegantly she was dressed up: the black, partly lacy dress stopping at the level of her knees; the shiny-white pearl jewelry perfectly matching her entire outfit; dark yet not defiant high-heels; andhair fixed up in the tight bun. In Draco’s opinion, she looked too prim...even for herself.

"Mother, are you heading somewhere?" he asked curiously.

“Well…” she started, blushing. “I’m going to see my old friend in the coffee shop. I haven’t been there for ages, so it’s one of the chances to meet up with them. Hopefully, you are going to take care of yourself for a few days.” 

"Days?" he asked, shocked.

“You didn’t expect me to travel from town to town, did you?” she laughed lightly. “Bordeaux is quite a route to overcome. So I might be settling there for a few nights. Do you mind it, darling?”

Was he positive about the information? Did he mind? Partly yes. He didn’t imagine the prospect of wandering around the alleys of France on his own, especially on the first day of being there. But from the other side, seeing the joy painted on his mother’s face as she told him about the planned get-together made him feel less skeptical. Plus, getting rid of the extreme supervision for a few days wouldn’t be such a disaster as well.

As he calculated now, the ratio about the idea was 90% pro and 10% against.

"Of course not," he said simply, smiling at his mother.

"I knew you would understand." The crease of uncertainty on her forehead disappeared, and she let out a sigh of relief. "Meanwhile... I have already booked you the brunch downstairs but seeing as you are not in the wholesome state, I might order a delive-"

"Don't..." Draco opposed, rising from the bed and throwing the nearest shirt he could find over his head. "I'll come down. Some fresh air may be a cure for a hangover. Oh, and speaking of hangovers -- do you happen to have an anti-hangover potion?"

Narcissa let out a quiet chuckle and clapped her hands, seemingly satisfied with herself. Her tranquil gaze landed on the cupboard. "As a matter of self-preservation, yes, I do. Try searching inside the bedside cabinet."

He thanked her and then they talked with each other a little bit longer until Narcissa took the pocket watch out of her handy purse, noted the time ("Merlin's Beard, I am so tardy! I'm going to be alone on the platform if I stay here a minute longer!), and –a little startled with her inadvertency – hurriedly declared she should get going ("I really should get going Draco!”). Pecking her son twice on the cheeks as a farewell, she rushed towards the door and, for the last time, turned around to blow a brief motherly goodbye kiss. She left in such a hurry that the only sign indicating her presence in the room a few seconds ago was her familiar perfume lingering about in the air.

Draco gathered his clothes, and after half an hour of very difficult preparations while dealing with the consequences of yesterday's actions -- because the potion finally hits after two to three hours -- he found himself in front of the hotel's restaurant. As he walked in, he had to admit the room enchanted him with its lovely atmosphere, which brought back the memories of his first Hogwart's magical feast as an eleven-year-old boy.

With the large windows allowing plenty of light in, the entire space was in the classical style. The whole floor was clad with marble tiles in the white-like color; the walls were purely white and, apparently, someone must have put a lot of effort not to let a single dust spot appear in there; the ceiling was created in the concept of the sky resemblance making an impression of the real clouds hovering over heads. Three enormous chandeliers made a very good fit with carved wooden tables and similarly-looking chairs.

"Sir, would you like to make an order?" The decently looking waitress walked over to his table, with a white apron around her waist and green, deep eyes staring at him. "I'm Laura, by the way. I'll be serving you today."

He nodded, not really paying much attention to her primitive attempts of having a chit-chat. Cursorily glancing at the menu, he decided on having a french bagel with melted cheese and a coffee which was a specialty of the house as was written in the recommendations. The waitress scribbled something sloppily in her notes, smiled briefly, and then strode away.

The restaurant was almost fully emptied, and the only things heard in the background were a heated discussion of the couple beside the table and a composition of french, old songs prepared specifically for the guests.

Draco let out a small sigh of boredom, thinking yet again about the scenery of today. The only ideas that crossed his mind were either lounging in his stuffy hotel room or finding another hang-out spot to drown his sorrows.

After the War, he had found out it was pretty easier not to give in to any of the memories, blurring them out with the support of Scotch as a coping mechanism. Pansy and Daphne, his childhood friends, had tried to talk him out of it, kindly offering some tenderness and a chance for a conversation. But he had eventually stopped caring about any of that bullshit anymore.

That's why perhaps he'd just--

"Hi!" said a cheerful voice behind him, making him jump slightly at his seat with surprise. At first, he thought it was a mistake; that he must have been deemed as someone else considering he didn't know anyone around, so was in the opposite way. Turning around, however, made him realize it wasn't entirely the truth. "Do you remember me?"

"Hello." Of course, he remembered her. It was the receptionist from the previous day, whose name he didn't bother to memorize. Although he planned on avoiding potential candidates for a talk today, he said truthfully, "Yes, I do. You work here, right?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, smiling. "Can I join?"

For a moment, his sluggish brain did not process what she was asking about, and that made him frown. The girl probably comprehended what it was about because she explained, reading his confused expression. "...the table".

"Oh," he said, feeling more than embarrassed for his dumb reaction. "Yeah, help yourself."

"Thanks," she mumbled, pulling out the chair to make some room for herself. "Tough night, huh?"

The inquiry made him suddenly realize she must have witnessed the whole scene yesterday -- him asking her for a favor, Narcissa drilling her out for any clues about his disappearance, his arrogant attitude, and scurrility as he spoke to her. For sure, if she were smart enough, she would deduce what the situation was about.

He couldn't help it, but a wave of shame pierced through his body, and his stomach rolled slightly.

"A little," he answered minimizing a dimension of the spree, almost like a lie, and then he shook his head. "Listen, sorry about yesterday. I might have been...rude."

A small smile of courtesy formed on her lips. "I presumed you were a little off. Happens..." she said tentatively, gripping both of her hands together. "Oh, and about yesterday -- you lost this at the lobby." She took his wand out, and Draco's stomach made a second roll, the heartbeat hastening like a speed of light. He quickly tried to bring his face to the natural expression, but the girl had noticed that, and curiosity filled her eyes. "I thought I should give that back. In case it was valuable or something."

Fucking great... How was he supposed to elucidate that?

His throat felt so dry he couldn't let out a word of excuse. The moment was so mortifying to him he just reached for the familiar wand and nodded politely in gratefulness.

"Mhm..." Draco hummed, barely audible and momentarily deflated. "It's just... Something I've been training with..."

What the fuck is that supposed to mean, dolt?!

"Oh," the girl unconsciously flipped her hair off the shoulders, probably trying to make sense of the information. Furrowing her brows, she put her hand under the chin. "Are you a magician?"

"Kind of..." he agreed, not happy about the reputation he had just created for himself, but at the same time satisfied he didn't have to make up more explanations.

Luckily for Draco, the uncomfortable pause was rescued by the arrival of the food -- thank Merlin -- and even though he hadn't been hungry at all, now he felt an unexpected appetite to eat up the awkwardness. The girl probably caught a hint it was about time to end an encounter because she grunted.

"Listen," the girl started, clearing her throat yet again. "I better get going. But..."

The next thing Draco knew was that she was reaching to her pocket again, this time taking out something similar to a quill, only without ink. He assumed it must some kind of muggle invention, only a mechanical-like version. The girl uncorked it and suggestively drew out her hand, clearly signifying he should bring his hand closer as well. He obediently did.

"France is a big city," she said, glancing at him and sounding serious. "If you ever needed someone to show you around, let me know."

Without any preamble, her soft, delicate fingers grasped his forearm (he made sure to give her the right one), and with a few scrawls on his skin, she looked at him merrily, blushing slightly, and then left a table.

He stared after her for a while, looking at her curls bouncing behind her back as she walked away at a slow, monotonic pace. After a few seconds, she disappeared out of his sight, letting him finally peek at the note she had left:

'Call me, Y/N,' and a nine-digit number attached.

XOXOXO

A/N: I know this part might have contained too little Draco x Reader momento, but I promise it’ll get better as a plot develops. Also -- is it only my impression, or is Narcissa as changeable as the weather in Germany lol.

[weloveharrypotter]

She Chose You, Moony Pt. 7

Pairing: Young! Remus Lupin x Baby! Reader

Summary: it’s now Y/n’s birthday, and Remus wants Y/n’s first of many birthdays to go very well

Warnings: cussing?

Remus woke up in the morning silently panicking. It was his pride and joy’s birthday. So everything had to go perfectly.

He slowly took Y/n off of him and laid her on his bed. He gently laid her down and stood up. Luckily it was a Saturday so he had all day to run around and prepare.

He changed into clothes for the day before waking up James.

“Mmm, what? Why are you waking me up so early?” James asked.

“It’s Y/n’s birthday.” Remus said like it was obvious.

“It’s her birthday!?” James asked loudly as he sat up.

“Ssshhhhh, she’s still sleeping.” Remus said looking over to see if she woke up. Luckily she hadn’t.

“Oooh, I have so many ideas.” James said while starting to get ready.

“What I need you to watch her.” Remus said.

“I’m not missing out on planning her party.” James said.

“So Sirius than.” Remus said.

“There’s no way in hell Sirius would missing planning her birthday.” James said.

“Lily?” Remus suggested.

“You know damn well she won’t miss it either.” James said.

“So... Marlene.” James suggested.

“She doesn’t know Marlene.” Remus said.

“Well she’ll have to at some point. She needs to expand her knowledge of people. It’ll happen eventually.” James said.

That’s when Remus remember something.

“That’s true but isn’t Marlene home, she left yesterday remember?” Remus said.

“Shit, that’s right.” James said.

“Why are you guys talking this early?” Sirius said waking up.

“Shhh.” Both Remus and James shushed.

“She’s still sleeping.” James said.

“Sorry.” Sirius said quieter.

“But why are we talking about someone watching Y/n.” Sirius asked.

“Beacuse we can’t leave her alone.” James said.

“Why would we be leaving?” Sirius asked.

“It’s her birthday, how could you two actually not remember?” Remus asked.

“You didn’t tell us-.” “I definitely did.” Remus said quickly.

“Well, we’ll work on commiting that to memory, but while we do that, we should find someone to watch your daughter.” James said.

“So what are our options?” Sirius asked.

“We have no one. Marlene is gone, and Lily and you two would never step down from planning her party, and clearly neither would I.” Remus said.

“I can think of someone.” Sirius said hesitantly.

“Who?” Remus and James asked.

“We’re obviously not very close but... Regulus?” Sirius suggested.

“Regulus?” James asked a little shocked.

“I mean kids make him a little uncomfortable but he’s very good with them.” Sirius explained.

“Are you sure?” Remus asked. Sirius nodded in response.

“Alright, I’ll get her ready.” Remus said as Sirius got up to change.

“I’ll go get Lily.” James said beofre he left.

“Daddy?” He heard Y/n asked. He turned and saw Y/n sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

“Happy birthday darling.” Remus said as he walked over and picked her up.

Y/n smiled recalling when her dad had told her about birthdays and why there important.

“Thank you.” She said.

“Alright, I need to get you dressed.” Remus said placing her down.

“No I want to do it.” Y/n said.

“O-oh, alright then.” Remus said a little confused.

They walked over to her bag, and he sat down. The opened it up and went to dig through, but Y/n slapped his hand away.

“I Wanna pick.” Y/n said looking through the clothes.

Remus smiled amused at his daughters behavior. But than it hit him.

She wanted to dress herself. She wanted to pick out her own outfit.

She wanted to do something for herself. She was starting to grow up. His heart ached at the idea of hi baby girl, growing up, and not needing him.

Y/n pulled out a body piece top that was yellow and had purple flowers on it. It had widened sleeves at the forearm, and it was cold shoulder. She had also pulled out ripped jeans and matching yellow sneakers.

“Alright, you sure you don’t need help?” Remus asked.

“Yup.” She said as she ran off to the other side of the bed where she wouldn’t be seen.

Remus sighed as he waited. He didn’t like that she was starting to grow up. He missed how things were about a month ago.

Where he got to pick out her outfits and change her, and she was an adorable little baby, not that she isn’t now, who needed him for everything.

Soon enough Y/n finished changing and came back out.

“I’m ready.” She said.

“You look beautiful darling.” He said.

“Thank you.” She replied.

“Alright, there someone I want you to meet.” Remus said.

“Who?” Y/n asked.

“I’ll tell you when we get there ok, but you have to be quiet on our way over. You can ask as many questions as you want when we get there.” Remus said and Y/n nodded.

—————

Sirius had demanded that he carried Y/n while they made their way to the slytherin dorms.

They snuck past the waking student and managed to get to Regulus’ room.

Luckily Regulus’ parents were rich, and liked him, so they paid for him to have his own room. Sirius sighed before knocking on his door.

After a moment they heard shuffling and the door opened to reveal Regulus dressed for the day.

Sirius pushed past him and Remus and James followed him.

Regulus whilst confused shut the door and walked in front of Sirius and only got more confused at the sight.

“Sirius why do you have a baby?” Regulus asked.

“Don’t worry she’s not mine. She’s Remus’.” Sirius said.

“That was less suspected.” Regulus muttered.

“Why are you holding her like that.” Remus asked as he looked over to Sirius.

Sirius had his arms wrapped around her torso as she faced outward with her back pressed to his stomach.

“It’s fun and comfortable. She doesn’t mind it.” Sirius said. They looked down at Y/n who just wasn’t paying attention and looking around.

Remus walked over and took her from Sirius which made him pout.

“Regulus this is Y/n, Y/n this is Regulus.” Remus said.

“Hello.” Regulus said.

Y/n shyly waved back. Y/n was very capable of talking, she’s been doing it since her first words, but she didn’t do it often.

“So why are you here?” He asked.

“Well it’s Y/n’s birthday and we need to prepare, but we can’t leave her alone.” Remus explained.

“No, I don’t know how to-.” Regulus was cut off by Sirius taking Y/n and putting he in his arms.

“Please. Today needs to be perfect.” James begged.

Regulus sighed.

“Alright.” He said. “When will you be back.” He asked.

“About 2pm.” James answered.

“2pm!? It’s a one year olds birthday party!” Regulus said.

“Exactly, one year old, her first one. So it has to be amazing.” Sirius said. Regulus sighed and nodded.

“Alright darling.” Remus said walking of to Y/n. Y/n looked up hearing her dads voice.

“I have to go but I promise I’ll be back, and we’ll have lots of fun and we’ll celebrate.” Remus said.

“No. No. No. No.” Y/n said as she shook her head.

“It’ll be alright darling, I’ll be right back.” He said as he hugged and kissed her.

He went to walked away but she gripped his jacket, but he proved her off.

“No! Please stay! Daddy please don’t leave!” Y/n begged as she started to cry.

Remus’s heart broke, and he went to go turn around, but his friends grabbed him.

“You can’t feed into it.” They said as they pushed him out.

Y/n cried as the door shut and she could no longer see her dad.

She wiggled and Regulus set her down. She ran to the door, and he followed her at a normal pace which was more than enough to keep up.

He saw her jump for the door knob, and he held the door shut above her. He noted she kept missing considering she was only one, but also shorter for her age.

Once Y/n realized she wasn’t getting out she sat on the ground and cried. Regulus felt bad but he knew better than to feed into the crying.

“He’ll be back.” Regulus said as he turned around and went back to his bed, and resumed on some homework.

After a little bit Y/n pulled herself together, whipped her tears, and looked around. She knew there was something in here that could help.

That’s when she spotted books. She pushed herself up and moved the books over to the door.

She climbed on top, and she was able to reach the door knob. She twisted it open but it was immediately shut. She looked up and saw Regulus standing above her looking down.

“You can’t leave.” He said as he picked her up and moved the books onto a desk.

“Why?” She said.

“It’s not safe for you to be without an adult.” Regulus said as he put her down and sat on his bed.

“I’m a big girl I can take care of myself.” Y/n said crossing her arms.

Regulus was pretty surprised. He knew it wasn’t impossible for a one year old to be able to have a conversation but, it wasn’t likely.

“I’m sure you are a big girl, but there are bad people out there. And they aren’t nice at all, and they would love to be mean to you. So you can’t go out on your own.” He explained.

Y/n huffed as he went back to his homework. After a minute he felt a tug on his blanket. He looked down and saw Y/n trying to climbed up.

He leaned over and lifted her up, and she sat next to his work. She watched as he looked for something in his text book.

“That’s pretty.” She said pointing at the essay he was writing.

“Thank you.” He said.

“What is it?” She asked.

“It’s an essay.” He responded. “An essay is when you write a lot to answer a question. You’ll learn about when your older.” He said before she could ask.

“What’s does it say?” She asked.

“You can’t read?” He asked more monotoned.

“No... is that bad?” She asked a little worried.

“Not at all. It’s normal for kids your age to not know how.” He answered.

“Teach me.” Y/n said.

“Your sure?” He asked. Y/n nodded.

He looked through his books before pulling one that was appropriate enough for her age. He pulled one out.

He was sure she was going to get frustrated and bored, and than give up. But he thought it was better to let her learn herself than shield her.

He sat down and opened the book.

“Ready?” He asked.

—————

(A/N): Thank you for reading, I’ll be posting the next part today as well. The series isn’t over. 😊

[virlath]

Hidden Trespasser mosaics

So I was researching some lore for a theory surrounding the environmental artwork in DAI, and happened to stumble upon this twitter post regarding unused mosaics for Trespasser. 

Coincidentally, I’ve been so deep in statues and elven god symbolism the past few days that I thought I’d chime in with some of my own thoughts.

From left to right in these artworks, I think we’re looking at four different gods involved in Solas’ slave rebellion.

Fen’Harel, Dirthamen/Falon’Din, Andruil, Mythal

===

If this hidden game file is anything to go by, it seems to confirm one theory I’ve had for a while- that Solas had help from some of the evanuris with his slave rebellion.

Because when you think about it, it’s kinda hard to believe he could have started a slave rebellion at all with his high profile and attachment to Mythal, especially when slaves seems to have been a big economy in ancient Elvhenan.

===

The gods in these mosaics

From left to right in the image

(Note: I actually posted some hi-res shots of the masks from DAO yesterday if you’re interested in seeing unedited screenshots, but I’ll break down my guesses here anyway.)  

1. Fen’Harel is obviously the wolf.

2. Dirthamen’s mask is easiest to spot because it matches the shape of his statues in DAO. Note that Dirthamen and Falon’Din have very similar statues and masks.

Falon’Din is the statue with the spear (recognised by Tamlen as “friend of the dead”) while I believe Dirthamen is the statue with four arms (this also strongly implies the envy demon in DAI is his corrupted raven, Deceit)

I believe Falon’Din and Dirthamen are two aspects of the same being, but how that actually works remains to be seen. Some people have suggested Falon’Din walks the fade while Dirthamen walks the physical realm and perhaps that explains their togetherness and separateness. 

Regardless, it does seem like both Falon’Din and Dirthamen were involved in Solas’ uprising due to the fact that both their mosaics are found inside the elven sanctuary before we see Solas’ mural removing vallaslin.

3. Andruil’s mask seems to fit most similarly to the third mosaic.

The overall curved shape mirrors Andruil’s bow in her mosaic, and the dotted indentation at the top totally looks like an arrow shaft. The eye placement in both the mosaic and the mask hints to me that this is very likely Andruil.

The big question- why would Andruil be helping Solas?

Perhaps because Mythal turned her to their side after she “sapped Andruil's strength, and stole her knowledge of how to find the Void.”

Or, perhaps Andruil isn’t as “evil” as people think she is.

Sure, she may have brought on the blight (although even this is conjecture, personally I feel like this could very well could be misdirection) and may have hunted “mortal men and beasts”, but who’s to say these beasts and men didn’t deserve what they got? Who’s to say she wasn’t corrupted by the void before she became the “goddess of sacrifice”?

One day Andruil grew tired of hunting mortal men and beasts. She began stalking The Forgotten Ones, wicked things that thrive in the abyss.

This implies to me she could have simply been hunting beings that had given her cause to hunt them. Remember, she was the only god that responded to Ghilan’nain’s cries for help, and at this time Ghilan’nain was one of the People, implying she wasn’t totally evil.

Andruil also has strong links to Falon’Din, because she and Falon’Din share the same symbol of the owl. What if Mythal meted out judgement, Falon’Din brought her judgement to them in the form of the owl (thus fulfilling the role of Andruil’s messenger as well as “friend of the dead”), and Andruil hunted them in turn to render Mythal’s judgement?

“Always keep an eye out for the noble owl. You never know: Andruil might have a message for you.”

It is interesting to see that the owl statue is always carrying what looks like a mirror or even dimension to another world (another prison perhaps?), possibly intended as a way to reflect the viewer’s own self and actions back on to them. 

Anyway, to me there are a number of possibilities why Andruil would work with Solas and co. Perhaps she wasn’t as corrupted as they thought. Perhaps Mythal made her forget so much so she agreed to help them. Or perhaps Andruil was the mole in the rebellion - the person who began the events that led to Mythal’s death.

4. I think the last god represents Mythal, due to the fact the shape is similar to the bronze statues found in the crossroads and deep roads.

There are in fact two versions of this statue - the sun, in the crossroads, and the moon in the deep roads. (brightened and contrast boosted for clarity)

The moon statue is strongly implied to represent Mythal, because a note is found near this statue:

These statues are old. Better shape than anything I've seen on the surface. Many of them are for Mythal, though. And Fen'Harel. Not in a spot of honor, but guarding, attending.

Question is, why would the sun also represent Mythal when Elgar’nan is known as the Eldest of the sun? 

Well, not only does the sun statue look very much the yin to the yang of the moon statue in the deep roads, the sun could refer to Mythal being both the sun and moon to the dwarves. 

These statues are notably different to other elven statues we’ve seen- notable for the fact they have a large base of rock, and they are carved in smooth bronze.  As these bronze statues are only found in this particular section of the deep roads where she controlled a lyrium wellspring, perhaps the dwarves carved these as a representation of her.

In the third note you find in the deep roads, a poem reads:

I am empty, filled with nothing(?), Mythal gives you dreams. It fills you, within you(?), Making our leaders proud. My little stones, Never yours the sun. Forever, forever.

It sure seems to me like Mythal was protecting these dwarves from something. Either that, or she was using these dwarves as slaves or minions in her operation and for some reason, they revered her enough to carve their own representations of her.

Morrigan says this of Mythal at the Temple of Mythal:

Let fly your voice to Mythal, deliverer of justice, protector of sun and earth alike.’

Similarly, Solas further says:

She was the mother,  protective and fierce. 

Regardless, I think there’s more evidence indicating Mythal was working with Solas over Elgar’nan. You do need Mythal’s passphrase after all to enter the elven sanctuary safely.

And if you want to take this one step further, check out the crown “Andraste” is wearing in DAO. Look familiar??? Maybe reminscent of the moon statue we see in the deep roads?

I don’t want to say Mythal was Andraste but...there are many signs that are hard to ignore.

===

More theory drabble

I realise a lot of the gods’ motives I’ve come up with above are based on conjecture and tbh, the writing for DA4 could go so many ways simply because of the fact that there are so many wide open threads that could be expanded upon.

These unused mosaics does indicate to me at least that the writers have a plan for how Solas’ rebellion actually functioned however, and that to me is exciting in itself.

One thing we can assume with high certainty is that Solas started the slave rebellion before Mythal’s death, because you need her passphrase to enter his sanctuary. Furthermore, even without these unused mosaics there are in-game mosaics of Dirthamen and Falon’Din in the sanctuary before we see the vallaslin mural.

This strongly implies to me that at the very least, even without this hidden game file, that Dirthamen, Falon’Din and Mythal aided and abetted Solas’ slave rebellion.

Further adding to this theory are the the rather compelling links to Dirthamen throughout DAI. For example, the gilded Fen’Harel statues in Dirthamen’s temple’s inner sanctum, Dirthamen’s bleeding statue in the Fade, Dirthamen, Falon’Din, Mythal and Fen’Harel imagery in the Knight’s Tomb, as well as Dirthamen’s statue at Calenhad’s foothold (where it’s implied he had a thing with Ghilan’nain). Not to mention- dual raven standards found underneath Fen’Harel’s sanctuary, as well as archer statues next to the eluvian as you exit (who I believe represent Dirthamen & Falon’Din).

Something clearly happened that led to Mythal’s death, and I’m leaning towards the fact that there was a leak somewhere within Solas’ trusted circle. Dirthamen seems to have been betrayed by someone close to him before the veil was created, because his statue in the fade is stabbed in the back and his eyes are weeping waterfalls of blood. 

As Solas says “...an enemy can attack, but only an ally can betray you. Betrayal is always worse.” 

And, when you tell him you trust your friends? He responds “I know that mistake well enough to carve the angles of her face from memory” 

It is assumed he is talking about Mythal’s own betrayal when he says this, but he could also be referring to the person/people who betrayed him and his trust. Personally, I think Falon’Din and Ghilan’nain could be key players in Mythal’s death at this point. We don’t know enough about the other gods to also make assumptions on their motives unfortunately. 

All in all, it seems to me like every one of the false gods were out to get one another, and Solas never even saw Mythal’s death coming because he was too arrogant/preoccupied with his rebellion.

If Solas really was Mythal’s oldest friend and guardian, his pride would have been absolutely crushed when she was betrayed and killed. The veil was likely a knee-jerk reaction due to his pride and “hot-headedness” more than anything- if he could be outplayed and have his own power and role as “guardian” outright questioned, then of course he would retaliate and raise the stakes even higher. It’s his MO- he has a means to an ends “you didn’t invent war” mentality, disregarding the collateral damage as long as he comes out on top.

This does make me wonder what intentions he has for the false gods once they’re freed though. Obviously Mythal wants her vengeance. But what of Solas? These false gods were his kin after all and the only ones who can truly relate to him on a level no mortal can understand. After all these years of stewing and realising his knee-jerk reaction cost him the entire elven empire, it makes sense he would want to restore what he effectively destroyed when his pride was hurt. 

To me it does seem like he truly hates the evanuris...but could he still be in leagues with some of them? Something I may not put past him, considering I don’t think he worked alone during his rebellion. 

[aspiringauthorintraining]

Volleyball Actually: Scene 2

It was a cold, dreary day outside, which meant for you it was a perfect day to eat a freshly-made warm onigiri from Miya’s Onigiri. But really, everyday was a perfect day to eat at Miya’s Onigiri. And it seemed like the rest of Japan had the same idea as you, seeing the long line of customers when you walked in.

You made your way up the front of the line soon enough with the queue moving fairly quickly. When you reached the register, the girl recognized you as you took your mask off to order. And before you could even speak, she asked if you wanted your usual, to which you nodded happily. It wasn’t the first time this happened, although it was with a different worker. But with how much you visited the restaurant, you weren’t surprised the employees remembered your face. 

Holding onto your receipt with the order number, you walked over to sit down in an empty corner of the store to wait for your food. Sitting down on one of the stools, you checked your phone to see multiple text notifications. There was one from Kiyoko, wanting to make sure you were coming to the big match next week, one from Kageyama confirming your visit his team again later in the week, and some from your manager about an upcoming schedule.

A tap on your shoulder made you jump up from your seat.

“How’s my favorite customer doing?”

“’Samu!” You greeted him with a hug, surprised by his sudden appearance. 

Your friendship with Osamu had started out as a purely business relationship- customer and restaurant owner relationship to be exact. You had just moved into the city and went to the newly opened Miya Onigiri’s flagship restaurant for lunch, after seeing all the good reviews. After noticing you coming in frequently, he stroked up a conversation with you while waiting for your food one day, and the rest was history. 

“What are you doing here? You said you’d be busy this week with finalizing the opening of your new restaurant in Miyagi.”

He took a seat in the empty stool next to you. “I had to stop by today to check on the store’s inventory. And I heard you visited the team yesterday. How’d it go?”

“Great! Your onigiris were a hit with the team by the way. Thanks for the suggestion.” You shot him a thankful smile, before remembering what Hinata had texted you shortly after your visit. “Why didn’t you tell me your twin brother was also on the team?”

Osamu burst out laughing at your accusing question, putting his arms up in mock surrender when you frowned at his reaction. “‘Tsumu always needs to be knocked down a peg or two, and having a pretty girl not know who he is would have crushed his ego.”

You had thought it was a strange that there was someone with the Miya surname on the team, when looking up how many players were in the MSBY Black Jackals team. But when you had brainstormed ideas with Osamu on what food to to bring on your visit, and he didn’t mention anything, you thought it had just been a coincidence. 

“Also, last week that bastard said my onigiri was salty, so he deserved it.”

“Have either of you matured at all from high school?” You deadpanned. 

“I have, but he dumbs me down.” Osamu shrugged.

You shook your head with a sigh, not being able to imagine what it would be like to put up with two Miyas, when one was already draining your energy. Bless the Miya matriarch. 

“You know you could have just looked it up on the internet to find out.” he added.

“I wasn’t really that curious to investigate. And unlucky for you, he wasn’t even there when I went to visit anyways.” You looked to the front thinking you had heard your order number being called out.

“Well, let me know if you go visit them again. I’ll make him pay for the food next time. But you know, I am surprised you and the shorty are so close after all these years.” Osamu changed the subject, referring to your relationship with Hinata. “You weren’t even in the same year.”

You breathed a happy sigh, thinking back to your time at Karasuno. “The team, when I was in my third year, was really special. With everything we went through that year, it felt like we were one big tight-knit family. So I try to keep in touch with everybody and visit them whenever I can. And it helps that we have a big group chat with everyone that was on the team, making it a bit easier.” You smiled, thinking back to the last time you all got together- it being the Tanakas’ wedding. But even then, not everyone was able to make it due to their busy lives. “But I guess I do dote more on the first-years though. Even more so with Shoyo as of late, since he had gone to Brazil right after graduation.”

Having heard one of his workers call him over, Osamu got up as soon as you finished talking, heading over to the counter. You watched as he grabbed the bag handed to him, walking back over to you before placing the said bag in your hands.

“I told them to add an extra onigiri in there.” He informed you, sitting back down.

“Is this what it feels like to be a valued customer?” you asked, placing your hand over your heart in a dramatic fashion. “Did you know I didn’t even have to tell them my order up at the front? She knew what my usual was as soon as she saw my face.”

He smirked in response. “I think that’s rather a testament to how much you come here.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“With how often you come here and the amount you order when you do, I can’t help but be worried about the health of my favorite customer. I want you to live a long life ordering my onigiri, not have it be the cause of your death.”

You shrugged, brushing off his comment. “It’s healthier than other fast food options, since it doesn’t have any msg- which is good enough for me.” You looked over at the crowd of customers that had just walked in, seeing the restaurant having become even more busier than when you first came in. “I should let you get back to work.”

You got up from your seat, collecting your things after putting back on your face mask. Osamu watched you get ready to leave from his seat, when a sudden thought occurred to him.

“Oh yeah. I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” You paused your movement, waiting for him to continue. “How would you feel being the face of Miya’s Onigiri?”

“Eh?!” You reacted like he had just told you Atsumu was actually just him in a blonde wig. “Me?”

“I told you about the new location we were opening in Miyagi, yeah?” Seeing you nod, he continued explaining. “Well, I’ve been thinking about doing a celebrity endorsement, and I thought of you since you’re from the prefecture.”

You still weren’t understanding why he would ask you of all people. “Why me though?”

“Didn’t you say you were a singer?” 

“Singer? Sure. Celebrity? Not really.”

“C’mon. It’s not like we’re a super famous company either. Think of it as beneficial opportunity for the both of us.”

“I feel like it’s more beneficial on my end than yours, though.” You frowned. 

Osamu brushed off your worry. “I’d much rather work with someone who I know and trust than a random person anyways.”

Knowing it was a good opportunity for publicity, you sighed, relenting. “Well, If you’re okay with it, then I guess I am too. But,” you raised your finger, “I’ll only accept onigiri as payment. I’ll feel bad if the advertisement doesn’t help bring in any customers.” Osamu tried to argue, but you just ignored him. “I’ll give my manager your number so that y’all can work out the scheduling.”

And without giving him a chance to negotiate the deal, you waved him goodbye, scurrying out the door.

Director’s Cut: Scene 2 Part 1

“Hey, Tobio!”

“Hai, Hoshiumi-san.” Kageyama looked at his teammate, in the middle of changing into his practice clothes.

“Did you see this?” Hoshiumi showed the Adler’s setter Hinata’s picture posted the night before. “We have to be careful, Tobio. These guys might steal (Y/N) away from us! That’ll mean no more visits, no more delicious bentos, or sitting on our side of the court during matches. And worst of all, no more good luck hugs!” 

Hoshiumi started to pace back and forth around the locker room.

“Senpai said she will come visit us the day after tomorrow.” Kageyama replied with a straight face, resuming his changing.

“Who’s coming tomorrow?” The Schweiden Adler’s captain, Hirugami Fukuro, asked the two younger players, walking into the locker room.

“Captain!” Seeing his captain brought an idea to the Little Giant. “Can you convince Sachiro to come tomorrow with his dog? She likes dogs, right?” 

Kageyama nodded in response.

“(Y/N)-senpai said she’ll visit on Thursday.” Kageyama answered the confused Hirugami.

“Oh, Sachiro will definitely want to come then. He wasn’t able to come because of a midterm last time she came to visit.” Hirugami replied. 

“Who’s coming to visit?” Ushijima asked, having come back from the bathroom. He wiped his wet hands with a handkerchief, folding the wet part inwards before putting it away in his pocket. 

“(Y/N)-senpai.”

“I see.” The wing spiker nodded in understanding. “I will bring some of my tomatoes tomorrow. She mentioned she wanted to try some of them last time we talked.”

“Tomatoes? The Black Jackals can give her tomatoes too! We need something that’ll convince her to stay with us.”

“My tomatoes are of high quality. The MSBY Black Jackals will not be able to find fruit with similar quality and grade easily.” Ushijima responded in confidence.

“That’s true. (Y/N)-senpai seemed very interested when Ushijima-san mentioned his gardening to her.” Kageyama confirmed, agreeing with the ace.

“Maybe I should bring some seeds for her as well?” Ushijima asked. “You should ask her if she has fertile soil to support good seedlings.”

Hoshiumi had already left the locker room, realizing the conversation was going nowhere.

The Karasuno alumni gave him a nod, making a mental note to text his senpai after practice.

Director’s Cut: Scene 2 Part 2

You had a busy schedule the following morning, so you prepared to sleep a bit earlier than usual. Right as you were about to fall asleep, your phone pinged loudly, waking you up. Drowsily, you grabbed your phone to check who had texted you. 

Reading the text, you blinked in confusion, rubbing your eyes to see if you had read the message correctly.

Received 9:10 p.m.

From: Karasuno #9

Message: Senpai, do you have good dirt?

______

(A/N): Hoped you like Part 2! Leave a like, comment, or do whatever ^^

[snowdice]

A Twist of Fate {Part 6} (Everything’s Fine Universe) [Dice Roll 13]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Remus & Janus & Patton, Remy & Patton

Characters: Janus, Patton, Remus, Remy

Summary: It wasn’t unheard of for people to gain soulmarks later in life, but it was quite rare. Usually fate was set in stone. Yet, when one’s fated death was prevented, fate had to make some adjustments.

As he fell, Patton may have felt a strange prickling feeling across his skin. He however, was not paying attention to that, far too distracted and confused. All he knew was that by the time he hit the ground, both of his hands were covered with marks. Later when he went home he’d notice even more in other places, but the ones he noticed when he hit the ground were the obvious ones on his hands.

Then, there was Janus. Janus had only one soulmark on his body. At least. He had only one soulmark that hadn’t been burnt off years ago. When he landed on top of Patton, he did not notice the marks that suddenly appeared on his arms and face. Patton did, however, notice two little designs appear on him: one along the side of his nose and the other right below the scaring on the left side of his face. The second was already colored in by the time they hit the ground.

Universe: Soulmate AU and Superhero AU

Genre: The Dice Roll said fluff and it is… but… it’s more fluff and angst, hurt/comfort-ish

Notes: Child abuse, homelessness, malnutrition, acid burns, platonic soulmates, car accidents mentioned, blood mentioned, death mentioned, chronic pain, abnormal growth

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Patton hurried to his front door, his mind frantically trying to figure out what he was going to say to Remy when he opened it. Yesterday, Remy had been his only soulmate, but now that was very much not the case. Patton wouldn’t know how to begin to explain the change even if he didn’t have two easily spooked children in his kitchen right now. Even if he knew where to start, he wouldn’t be able to explain without bringing up Evan and Jimmy, and their trust in him was so fragile, he feared even saying their names aloud to someone they did not know would shatter it forever.

He wanted to tell Remy though, if for no other reason than to have someone he knew and trusted to talk to about it. Patton had done his best to take everything in stride, but his head had been spinning since yesterday. Part of him thought he really had been hit by that car, and he was now having a vivid hallucination as he died. Maybe his mind was recalling the conversation about wanting children he’d had earlier in the day and was spinning a web of dreams before his consciousness faded away.

…Reality had yet to truly sink in even after a night’s rest.

He’d stayed up later than usual after he’d managed to finally find a sleeping arrangement that the children would tolerate. He’d taken the time to find and categorize every single new soulmark on his body before finally letting himself collapse into bed long past midnight. Considering what he’d found, it still took him a while to calm his brain enough to sleep.

There were, of course, the first ones he’d noticed on his hands. Three of these were in the middle on the back of his hands. Evan’s stood alone on his left hand. It was slightly towards the wrist, but still firmly in the territory that meant it was a parent-child relationship. Jimmy’s and one of the unfilled in soulmarks were on his right hand. They were so close together than someone might mistake them for one soulmark if one was not filled in and the other not.

The other two on his hands drifted more towards the side of each hand, close to, but slightly out of the range of a parental soulmark. When he cross referenced it with a diagram on the internet, he found it was more than likely a very close uncle like relationship. He wondered if, or well, hoped that those might match up with Remy’s two parental ones. It would be what made the most sense, after all.

That was five new soulmarks, but that was not where the surprises ended. When he’d finally gotten a chance to look at himself in the mirror, he’d been shocked to find a little crescent moon shaped outline on his neck. That was. Well. Patton had not expected that. It made sense, he guessed, that it was on his neck. He had definitely not expected a romantic soulmark which would be more towards the chest. He’d never really had those feelings, after all. On his neck meant it was a platonic soulmate, but not exactly friends. They probably shared the children as soulmates, at least the three definitely parental soulmates. It was probably a good thing considering all of the children Patton was suddenly responsible for. Or at least… he hoped he would be responsible for.

Those six had been startling enough, but he’d also gotten a few more. His back was now filled with friendship soulmarks that had not been there before. There were 5 more, in fact, putting him at a grand total of 14 soulmarks.

He was considered a Well-Loved now. He was an Unloved yesterday and a Well-Loved today. It was wonderful, but also strange and a bit terrifying. How was he supposed to explain this all to Remy, the one soulmate he’d always had, without even being able to mention the two new ones he’d found by name?

He still had not found an answer to that question even as he opened his front door.

“Sup babe,” Remy greeted immediately. “I brought coffee, but I already drank mine, so I’m going to go invade your kitchen. Kk? Here’s yours.”  Patton took the coffee cup automatically as it was thrust at him. Remy then went to push past Patton into his house, but Patton quickly stepped in his way. Remy’s nose scrunched up in confusion.

“I’m actually busy today,” Patton lied. “I forgot. I have plans. Could we reschedule?”

“Busy?” Remy asked. His voice was skeptical. Patton wasn’t a good liar in general, let alone to the man who had known him since elementary school. “Busy with what?”

“Uh, just… stuff.”

Remy studied him for a long moment, his gaze somehow sharp even though Patton could not see his eyes. “What’s that on your neck?” he asked. “‘Cause it looks like some sort of weird ass hickey, but you’re ace as hell.”

Patton quickly slapped a hand over the soulmark there. “It’s uh, nothing,” Patton said.

“…What’s on your hand?”

Remy reached for Patton, but Patton jerked away, tilting his head to hide the soulmark on his neck and hiding both hands behind his back, almost spilling coffee on himself in his haste. “It’s nothing. Sorry, I can’t spend the day with you today. Can you leave?”

Patton saw Remy’s eyebrows pop up over his sunglasses. “Gurl what is wrong?”

“Everything’s fine,” Patton promised, “but I need you to leave. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Uh huh…” Remy did not seem convinced. In fact, despite his standard cool demeanor, he looked rather alarmed.

“Oh god,” Evan groaned from behind Patton, “just let him in.”

Patton turned back to look at him. “But…”

“You’re a shit liar, and he’s going to call the cops on us if you don’t,” Evan said. Patton really wanted to correct the swearing but held his tongue. “Just… let him in.”

Patton turned to look at Remy who was giving him that slightly to the left head tilt that meant ‘I’m squinting at you in confusion.’

“Why don’t you come in?” Patton said. He stepped out of the way to let Remy walk into the house and closed the door behind him. They all awkwardly stared at each other for a long moment. “Let’s…” Patton finally said. “Living room. If that’s okay with everyone?”

Evan didn’t respond but stalked back towards the kitchen. Patton assumed he was getting Jimmy. That or bolting.

“What the hell, Pat?” Remy asked, voice low.

“They’re my soulmates, apparently,” Patton said. He waved the hand with Evan’s soulmark at him.

“You’re what?” Remy asked, then, “… ‘They’?”

Patton reached over to grab his hand, giving it a little squeeze, more for his benefit than for Remy’s. “I’m just as confused by it as you,” he said. “I got new soulmarks yesterday and two of them are already filled in.” He pulled him towards the living room. “It’s not just those two either. There’s… there’s a lot Rem.”

Remy took the coffee out of Patton’s hand and set it and his own empty cup on the coffee table so he could study both of Patton’s hands. One of his thumbs rubbed gently over one of the marks on the side of his hand. Had he done the math too? Patton had to wonder. Had he wondered why Patton did not at least have soulmarks for Remy’s children? Patton had never dared to bring it up, but Remy wasn’t stupid. Did he see the same thing in those two soulmarks as Patton?

“And some on my back too,” Patton told him.

“Not to mention…” Remy gestured at his neck. Patton put his hand over the mark, blushing a bit.

“Yeah…”

Just then, Evan and Jimmy entered from the kitchen. Jimmy looked at Remy and instantly opened his mouth. “Oh! I know you.”

Patton glanced over at Remy, but he seemed just as confused as Patton, so he turned back to the kids. Evan had gone tense all of a sudden as though readying to run. His hand dug into Jimmy’s shoulder and Jimmy’s head jerked to him. “No, something happened to him. He didn’t do something.” That confounding statement made Evan slowly relax, but he still looked over at Remy and Patton leerily. Jimmy did not seem to have the same hesitancy as Evan. He shook off the grip on his shoulder and waved. “Hi! You’re a doctor!”

Remy opened his mouth slightly. “…Well,” he said slowly. “I’m currently in medical school.

“…That’s what I meant.”

Patton watched curiously as Evan’s eyes slipped closed in frustration. Something was… off with Jimmy. Patton could not quite figure out what it was yet, but clearly something about him was being hidden, and Evan knew what it was. Patton had some suspicions, but like his knowledge that Evan was shapeshifter, he kept them to himself.

“Uh huh,” Remy replied.

“Why don’t we all take a seat?” Patton suggested. Remy looked over at him and then sat on one of the armchairs next to the couch. Patton sat on the couch next to him a moment later. Jimmy bounced over to the couch too and with no hesitation, he climbed into Patton’s lap. Patton put a hand on the boy’s head, heart in his throat. He did not dare to hug him though, as Evan was already shifting nervously without Patton effectively trapping Jimmy. Evan was left the only one standing, and he did not seem inclined to rectify this. Patton did not comment.

“So, you three got new soulmarks yesterday?” Remy asked.

“Uh huh,” Jimmy answered for them all. He curled one of his fists into Patton’s sweater seemingly not even aware of what he was doing.

“I’m not quite sure how,” Patton said. “I didn’t even know that could happen.”

“Usually it can’t,” Remy replied. “There are only two documented cases in the last century. We learned about them a few weeks ago. One was a polio patient for his doctor in the 1950s, and the other was only a year ago in New York, I think. Someone born with no soulmarks gained one randomly. In both cases, they only gained one. I haven’t even heard of any instances where multiple were gained and why it happened is greatly debated, but there aren’t enough cases to prove any sort of pattern.” Remy looked at him curiously. “Was there anything that happened to you that may have caused it?”

Patton hesitated. There was a clear answer to that question, but it wasn’t exactly easy to tell your best friend that you’d almost di-”

“He almost got smushed by a car!” Jimmy informed him. “Evan ran across the street and shoved him out of the way, but he was going to bleed out in the street and die.”

Patton winced as Remy looked at him, expression unreadable. “You were going to die?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Patton replied softly.

He could tell that the thought badly hurt Remy, but he seemed to shove the pain down. “And being saved caused the new soulmarks?” he asked.

“They were there by the time we hit the ground,” Patton confirmed.

“I guess that makes sense,” Remy said after a moment of thought.

“It does?” Patton asked.

“If you suddenly weren’t going to die when you were before, it makes sense you’d gain soulmarks.”

There was silence as the room absorbed that.

“What’s your name?” Jimmy asked suddenly, voice lighter than it probably should have been considering the previous topic. “Why are you a doctor? Why are you wearing sunglasses inside? Why are you carrying around an empty coffee cup? Are you going to refill it or just throw it away? Did you know that 16,009,402,282 disposable coffee cups were thrown away last year? Wha-”

“Whoa, whoa, one at a time kid,” Remy said, his mouth edging up into a smile. “My old brain can only process so much at once. My name is Remy.”

Jimmy frowned. “Not being able to remember many things is probably bad if you’re going to be a doctor,” he said.

Patton couldn’t help but laugh and pat his head.

“I guess you’re right,” Remy agreed. “I’ll have to work on that. What’s your name?”

“I’m, uh, Jimmy,” he said. “Like I said, that’s Evan. He’s not going to introduce himself because he’s crabby.”

“I see,” Remy replied, lips twitching. “That’s okay. He can be crabby if he wants to be. I’m sure he’s a little stressed out about everything.”

“He’s stressed out about a lot of things all the time,” Jimmy confirmed. Patton glanced up at Evan to see he was very displeased with this statement, but he kept his mouth sealed shut. “Oh!" Jimmy said, bounding a couple of times in Patton’s lap. “You should do a doctor thing to Evan!”

“Jimmy,” Evan hissed.

Jimmy didn’t even blink at the vehemence of Evan’s tone. “His bones are growing in wrong,” he declared, matter-of-factly, “and he’s bad at being warm enough. Like a snake!” Patton internally winced. He wasn’t an expert, but that sounded like it was probably the result of shapeshifting too much and for too long. “Plus, he has bad burns on his back that are healed but still hurt him.”

“Traitor,” Evan accused hotly. He looked like he wanted to escape the room, but he obviously wouldn’t leave without Jimmy, and Jimmy was in Patton’s lap. Patton wondered if that was on purpose.

Jimmy frowned at him. “You need to see a doctor,” he insisted. “You almost pass out every day!”

“No.”

“Yes.”

They stared at each other for a few long moments.

“I’m not going to make anyone accept medical care they don’t want,” Remy said evenly. Evan looked at him. He was pretty twitchy and looked like a trapped animal. “If you want me to look at you, I will, but I won’t make you even if you are sick, and you can stop me at any time.”

“Really?” Evan asked suspiciously.

“Really,” Remy confirmed. “It’s an open offer, but we can stop talking about it if that would make you more comfortable.”

Jimmy was frowning at Evan, but Evan just glared back. The younger boy seemed to shrug it off after a moment. He tilted his head back to look at Patton. “Can we make the cookies now?” he asked.

Patton laughed. “Sure,” he agreed. “We can make the cookies.”

 Evan slowly seemed to relax just a bit as the day went by. As promised, Patton made double chocolate chip cookies with the help… well ‘help’ of both Jimmy and Remy. Jimmy was a bit too enthusiastic and often almost knocked things over. He also had… interesting ideas for additions to the batter that he did not always remember to ask for permission for before putting them in the bowl. Remy, on the other hand knew exactly what he was doing when he tried poring coffee into the batter, and Patton was very unhappy with the fact that he was trying to caffeinate Jimmy of all people. Evan ended up being the most help despite insisting on just observing. He warned Patton about almost all of the potential disasters before they were put into the batter.

After the cookies were put in the oven, they went with Remy and Patton’s original plan of watching movies, though they chose more age appropriate ones than the planned romantic comedies. If Patton was being honest, he actually preferred the Disney movies over whatever Remy would have inevitably chosen.

Despite there not being any caffeine in the cookies they ate, Jimmy insisted upon bouncing between sitting on the couch with Patton and in the recliner with Evan every 30 minutes or so. This had been going on for 2¼ movies and didn’t show signs of stopping. He’d just jumped onto Patton without warning, causing Patton to jerk and accidently knock over a bowl of popcorn into Remy’s lap. Remy just laughed, looking over at Jimmy with a smile and that’s when Evan broke.

“What would you do?” he asked.

Remy blinked over at him, one hand still distractedly brushing popcorn off of his front.

“In the doctor thing or whatever,” Evan clarified.

Remy didn’t move from his seat in the armchair next to the couch, instead just folding his hands together over the popcorn in his lap. He calmly explained from across the living room with Lady and the Tramp running in the background every part of a normal doctor’s check-up. Then he explained about wanting to take a look at his burn scars as well as do a couple of X-rays.

“How would you do the X-rays?” he asked suspiciously.

Remy smiled slightly and tapped the edges of his sunglasses. “There’s a reason I wear sunglasses inside,” he said.

“You have a superpower,” Evan said, something odd in his tone.

“X-ray vision. Believe it or not, that’s not why I’m becoming a doctor.”

Evan bit his lip. “You can… do the first few things. We’ll see about the rest.”

“Alright kid,” Remy agreed easily. “Pat, you have a thermometer and blood pressure cuff, yeah? Can you get those for me?”

“Sure,” Patton said, gently pushing Jimmy off of his lap and walking to the main bathroom to grab what Remy had requested. When he returned, Remy had stood and crossed to kneel next to Evan’s chair and Jimmy had abandoned the couch to sit on his armrest.

“There was also a stethoscope,” Patton said. He set the instruments on the side table and then quickly backed off to give Evan some space and sat on the couch again.

“Thanks Pat,” Remy said without looking at him. He was careful not to crowd Evan, giving him the thermometer to take his temperature himself and asking him to tilt his head so he could flash a penlight in his ear instead of guiding it to the side himself like doctors usually did when Patton got checkups. Evan even allowed him to put the stethoscope under his shirt to listen to his breathing.

“Okay,” Remy said once he was done with that. “We’re done with that part. Up to you if you want me to do the rest.”

Evan hesitated. He glanced over at Jimmy. “Fine,” he said after a moment. “You can look at the burns.

“You’ll have to take your shirt off,” Remy said.

“Right.”

“Would you like a blanket to cover up the rest of you?” Patton offered.

Evan glanced at him. “I… Yes, I would.”

Patton nodded and grabbed one of the blankets on the back of the couch. He walked it over to him and handed it over. He took it and wrapped it around himself before starting to squirm out of his shirt from underneath it.

“Okay,” he said after he was finished. Patton could see the stress at his vulnerability growing in his eyes.

“It’s on your back, right?” Remy asked, his voice gentle.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Alright. I’m going to touch your shoulder,” Remy soothed. When Evan nodded, he reached out and slowly pulled the blanket away from his back. The acid burn scar there was much worse than the one on his face, deeper and more widespread. It made Patton’s chest ache to think about the pain that injury had caused when it had happened, especially if it was bad enough that it still hurt him now. “Okay?” Remy made sure.

“Yeah,” Evan answered.

Remy nodded and leaned forward, his fingertips just brushing the skin on the child’s back. The second their skin touched, they both jumped. “Interesting,” Remy said, surprised.

Patton’s eyes were glued on what had startled them both. A soulmark had filled in on Evan’s back right in the middle of the deepest part of the burn. It looked like nothing Patton had ever seen before. Before he and Remy had touched, Patton hadn’t been able to see that there had ever been a soulmark there. Whatever had been used across his shoulders had seemingly completely erased it, but now there was an emerald blot of color, twisted and distorted by the burn, but still definitely there. Whatever shape it was meant to be before was indiscernible, but the way the color subtlety popped out against his dark skin was still incredibly beautiful.

“I…” Evan twisted around to try to look at the soulmark in confusion, “didn’t know you could get a soulmark that was burnt off.”

“You can’t,” Remy said. He squinted at Evan and then at Patton, “but I guess you’re weird kid.”

Evan’s eyes flickered up to him. “You’re the other half of this equation,” he pointed out, “so what does that make you?”

“Eh,” Remy replied with a smile. “I already knew I was weird.”

Evan smiled tentatively back. He seemed to be calmed by the fact that Remy was his soulmate, contrary to how he’d felt when he’d learned Patton was his soulmate. Patton was a bit surprised, but he guessed it made sense considering a friendship soulmark didn’t give Remy any legal rights to him unlike a parental one. His fear was about control, Patton had surmised by the way he’d acted and the things he’d said, about autonomy. He felt Patton was a threat to that, but Remy was not one.

“I’m going to continue looking, okay?” Remy said, laying a hand on his shoulder again. Evan allowed it and Remy kept looking at the burns through his glasses still. He asked questions about how much and when they hurt, and then sat back after a few minutes. “How about the X-rays.”

Evan took a breath. “Yeah, why not?”

Remy nodded and took off his sunglasses. He spent a few minutes looking at Evan, asking him to move into certain positions every so often. Eventually he put the sunglasses back on and sat back.

“I’m going to be straight with you kid,” Remy finally said. “Are you a shapeshifter?” The tension that had left him after learning Remy was his soulmate returned full force. “It’s alright if you are,” Remy placated. “I won’t do anything or tell anyone outside of this room, but I haven’t heard much about impaired thermoregulation in anyone without a brain or spine injury unless they were shapeshifters. That combined with your bone growth irregularity imply you’ve been using shape-shifting too much.”

Evan did not seem inclined to answer, his eyes on his knees. Jimmy did not have the same reluctance. “Yes, he is,” Jimmy said.

“You’re a dick, Jimmy,” Evan grumbled.

“You probably shouldn’t teach him that,” Patton tried.

“He taught me most of it,” Evan replied with an eyeroll.

“I know all of the bad words!” Jimmy declared, cheerfully. He held up a finger as though starting to count. “Cu-”

“No, no,” Patton quickly cut him off. “I believe you.”

Evan seemed amused at least, his mind evidently taken off his powers for the moment.

Remy snorted a bit himself. “You are a character, aren’t you?” he asked.

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” Evan said.

Remy reached out to pat Jimmy on the head, and really Patton shouldn’t have been surprised when they both jolted a bit.

“Cool!” Jimmy enthused. “I have a doctor soulmate. Can you X-ray me, like with a real X-ray machine not with your weird eyes? I want to see my insides! Then can you label all of my bones for me?!”

Remy snorted. “I reiterate: a character.”

“I don’t know what ‘reiterate’ means!” Jimmy declared proudly.

“Say something again,” Remy informed him. He glanced down at his arm. “Huh,” he said. “That one wasn’t there yesterday,” he said. There was one on the back of his hand almost at his wrist, meaning it was somewhere between an older brother and an uncle relationship. Jimmy likely had one higher on his arm.

“You didn’t notice?” Patton asked.

“Bitch please,” Remy waved him off. “I woke up 5 minutes before I had to leave for my exam and came right here.”

“Remy, can you please not…”

“He almost said the ‘c’ word Patty. I think they’re a lost cause.”

Patton frowned, unhappily, but decided to let it slide for now.

Remy turned back to Evan, still smiling softly. “So,” he said. “I’m guessing you’ve been using your shapeshifting a lot.”

Evan nodded.

“Well, doctors typically recommend that people don’t shapeshift much until their around 14,” Remy informed him. “Mostly because overextending it can cause some problems. How old are you?”

“Twelve,” Evan answered after a beat of hesitation.

“Alright,” Remy said. “That’s a little bit young… and I can tell you’ve been doing it for a while. You’ve honestly messed up a bit of your growth process.”

Evan looked at his lap, not saying anything.

“I don’t blame you,” Remy said. “I don’t think you probably wanted to do all of that, which means you probably had to. You’re obviously a survivor, but it does pose some issues moving forward.”

“So, should he try to stop shapeshifting?” Patton asked.

“It would actually be worse if he doesn’t use it at all at this point,” Remy replied. He turned to Evan who was still not looking at him. “There are exercises I can give you. For now, you should only do those twice a day and no other shapeshifting. After a couple of weeks, you can start using it a bit outside of that, but no full shifts and not for more than a few minutes at a time. That should get your body heat to regulate more normally.”

Evan did not look happy with this prospect. “I’ll try,” he said dubiously.

“I guess that’s all I can really ask,” Remy said with a sigh. “The bone growth would take more to fix. More physical therapy with your shape shifting as well as without. Some of it’s probably permanent damage.”

Evan shrugged. “I’d figured,” he said a bit bitterly.

“It will be alright though,” Remy assured, putting his hand on Evan’s knee.

Evan looked up at him and Patton could see exactly what he was thinking. The being able to not shapeshift at all for two weeks. The extended physical therapy necessary to even start to fix the bone growth irregularities. Those things depended on having somewhere safe to do so. It depended on staying with Patton, and Evan still wasn’t sold on that.

“Of course,” Evan said, and Patton could tell he was lying.

Patton would need to do his best to convince him to stay. A lot more was on the line than he’d thought.

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 7

[anjuschiffer]

Amira Wayne [Unclassified]

I’ve been waiting for so long to show this deleted chapter! Now that I’m done recycling some parts of this deleted chapter, I can finally show it!

Note: the ‘masterlist’ on this work redirects to Amira Wayne’s MASTERLIST as this work is a subwork of it

-

Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijah-crevan @vixen-uchiha @nathleigh

-

MASTERLIST | AO3

Day 9 - Deleted Chapter

The minute Marinette walked into the school, she knew something was off. She couldn’t quite place her finger on it, but it was there. Something was interrupting the equilibrium. 

As she made her way towards class, she couldn’t help but notice the increase in buzz throughout the halls. Marinette listened in on every conversation, noticing how the name Lila kept popping up.

“Lila?” She muttered to herself, placing her hand on her chin. Who exactly was-

“Seems like you’ve already heard about her.” Alya said from behind Marinette, throwing an arm over her shoulders. Alya redirected her attention to a girl on the second floor.

Marinette followed her gaze, seeing a girl with the most hideous hairstyle standing next to Adrien. If it weren’t for those -whatever they were- dangling from the side of her face, the girl would seem to know a thing for fashion. Why sort of? The polka dotted romper wasn’t exactly pleasing to the eye. 

“She just transferred from Italy and she has the most incredible life! Not only has she met Prince Ali and Jagged Stone, but she’s also met Ladybug! Ladybug saved her! Lila even gave me an exclusive-”

“When did she arrive in Paris? Did she even mention-”

“Just yesterday!” Alya quickly responded, attempting to show Marinette the interview Lila gave her. Noticing that Alya had already posted it to the Ladyblog, Marinette made a note of telling Uncle Clark to hold on to the internship for now. “Look! Thanks to her-”

“So she just arrived yesterday for the first time in Paris-”

“Well, we don’t know if first-”

“-first time in Paris after the appearance of Ladybug.” Marinette continued. “And she claims to have been saved by Ladybug? If memory serves me correctly, there wasn’t any akuma yesterday, meaning no patrol from Ladybug. So then the question is: how did she claim to have met Ladybug -nonetheless supposedly save her- if Ladybug wasn’t around?”

Marinette watched as Alya opened her mouth to try and come up with some type of answer, but nothing came up. “Did you really just accept her story without even fact checking?”

“But Lila knows-”

“There’s a difference between recognizing and knowing. And it seems that Lila recognizes Ladybug and her importance to Paris, meaning she may not fully know who Ladybug truly is because if she did,” Marinette narrowed her eyes. “She would know Ladybug doesn’t like it when someone spreads rumors about her. That includes people who use her name for a bit of limelight.” 

Marinette made her way towards class, not caring if Alya called her to come back. 

From the corner of her eye, she watched as Lila dragged Adrien to the library, Marinette shaking her head. That poor boy. Welp, not her problem.

“Marinette! Something’s off.” Tikki stopped her, Marinette wondering what she sensed.

“You too?” Tikki nodded.

“And it’s close.” Marinette huffed, dragging her hands down her face. “Does this happen to have anything to do with Lila?”

“I’m not sure, but we have to follow her.” Tikki commanded, Marinette bracing herself for the worse.

-

Marinette looked at the book in her hands, quickly recognizing the language inscribed in the front cover.

While Marinette hated every minute she sat in that library, listening to Lila try to get Adrien to fall for her, Marinette was glad that something good came from it. When Adrien had dropped the book, Lila dragging it towards her with her food, Marinette used that moment to grab the book and run.

Once in her room, she quickly scanned each page before dashing around her room in search of a notebook. She’s definitely seen this writing before.

“What do you mean you know this language? Only the Guardian should know-”

“My brother adored learning languages, even the obscure ones. Whenever we would have a day off from school, he would go to our father’s library and stay there all day.” Tikki watches as a soft smile formed on Marinette’s face as she said so. “He would be there all day, deciphering old languages, ecstatic when he would decipher one correctly that had stumped researchers for years.” Tikki watched as Marinette pulled out a notebook from an old trunk, Tikki wondering how she never noticed how out of place it seemed in Marinette’s room.

“Brother? Do you have another family?” Tikki asked, wondering if she even knew the Marinette in front of her. She would only mention a brother if it meant she had more family elsewhere. If so, what was she doing here in Paris? And by herself?

“Back in Gotham, I have another family.” Marinette softly said, running a hand over the notebook placed on her desk. “Jason, he was the one who wanted to become a linguist and the one who stumbled upon this writing.” 

Tikki watched as Marinette opened up the notebook, her eyes widening as Marinette flipped through pages and pages of translations, finally stopping at the beginning of a section with the same writing as in the grimoire. 

“He managed to translate all of this from a simple sample of this very book?” Tikki asked in amazement, watching as Marinette began to translate the book with ease.

“He was just that amazing.” Tikki noticed her smile drop, a frown taking over. 

Was. That’s the second time she said that word. “By the way Tikki, why is this book so important?” Tikki took the change of topic with ease, knowing to not pry into Marinette’s past. 

Right now wasn’t the time.

“This grimoire is a book of spells that not only enhance your abilities, but unlocks the abilities of us kwamis. The Guardian has been looking for this very book for years! He had lost it decades ago-”

“Lost? And hold on a minute. Is this the only book or are there more that talks about the kwami and miraculouses?” When Tikki nodded, Marinette let out a sigh. Good. She didn’t want to go  on a mission to retrieve another one. Who knows what would have happened to Amira’s sanity if she had to do so.

“Now that we finally have the book, we have to give it to the-”

“No.” Marinette interjected, grabbing the book.

“No? Marinette! This is very valuable information that the Guardian-”

“You said the Guardian lost it and yet here it is, in a civilian’s hand years later. Don’t you realize what this can mean?” When Marinette saw Tikki shrug, she laughed, opening up a draw in her vanity, pulling out a small case. 

Tikki watched as Marinette carefully placed some devices around the device, windows appearing on Marinette’s desktop that noted the location of the grimoire.

Just who was this girl? “Alright.” Marinette turned to Tikki, a smirk on her face. “How about we return this grimoire to its owner?”

-

“Well, if it isn’t Lila Rossi.” Ladybug said with a chilling smile, Lila feeling a chill run down her spine. 

After talking with Adrien in the library, Lila thought her plans were sailing smoothly until she realized that she had lost the book she took from Adrien.

She spent the rest of the day searching for that damn book, panicking when Adrien had reached into his bag when Lila had mentioned being the descendant of a superhero named Volpina. Even with a necklace greatly resembling the one in the book, she didn’t have Adrien’s complete trust. How naive she was.

Then to make her day even worse, Ladybug popped in.

“Hey Ladybug! How-”

“Can I have a word with you?” Ladybug asked, Adrien startstrucked with Ladybug even being near him, watching as the two girls went off to the other side of the park. “Listen Lila, I suggest you stop giving Alya interviews about supposedly being friends with me. Better yet, stop claiming to know me when you don’t.”

“I just-”

“Lila, I’m doing this to protect you. To protect everyone. You claiming you know me will put your life at risk and those around you. I don’t know how things worked over in Italy, but-”

“How do you-”

“I got my ways.” Ladybug said, looking at her yo-yo for the time. “Also, piece of advice? You don’t gotta lie to make friends as Dupont. Everyone is pretty much eager to make a new friend, no matter how shut off the person is.”

“How-”

“Like I said before, I got my ways.” Lila watched as Ladybug took her hair into her hands. “One more thing. Change your hairstyle a bit and that romper? Hideous. You’ll look cuter than what you already do if you work on those two things. Oh! Before I forget.” Ladybug handed over the grimoire to Lila. “Think this belongs to your friend over there. There was a picture of a woman who looked like him, so I thought it would be his. If it turns out that it isn’t, don’t hesitate to give it back the next time you see me! Bug out!”

 With that, Lila watched Ladybug leave, going back to Adrien with the grimoire in her hands.

“Lila, what did-my book!”

“Ladybug found it and managed to know it was yours.” Lila said, her eyes dazed off to who knows where. 

“Hey Lila, you alright? You seem kind of red.” Lila quickly placed her hands on her cheeks, finally registering that her face was on fire.

-

The next day at school, Marinette relaxed upon setting foot, happy to have the old atmosphere back.

But she spoke a bit too soon.

Class went how it usually went, Marinette taking down boring notes as their teacher explained the powerpoints. Too bad the notes were part of her grades or else she would’ve dozed off.

Half the day came and went, history class now their last one.

For this week’s project, everyone had to choose someone they admired, many of her classmates choosing their idols.

Surprisingly, Max had chosen Lex Luthor while Alya chose Lois Lane. What really caught her attention was when Adrien went up and instead of talking about his father, he spoke of hers: Bruce Wayne.

With each of her father’s organizations and charities mentioned, Marinette’s smile grew wider. Seems like he did his research. Everything was going swell until the final portion of the report came in. 

If you can meet your idol, what would you do? 

“To be honest, I think I would tell him to work on his promises.” Adrien said, causing Marinette to snap from her trance.

“Why do you say that Adrien?” Ms.Bustier asked, her pen already on her paper, ready to jot down whatever was to be said.

“I was supposed to have met him last year, my father sending me to represent us during last year’s party. Father told me I was going to speak to him but I never saw him that evening. I ended up-”

“-it’s because Mister Wayne couldn’t be there that day due to personal reasons.” Marinette interrupted, gathering everyone’s attention.

“Marinette. Adrien-” Ms.Bustier called out, only to get cut off by the girl.

“Adrien doesn’t know the full story.” Marinette said, feeling her hands tremble as they curled. She felt her nails attempt to calm her down. “He didn’t do enough research to know-”

“I didn’t need to. I was there.” Adrien barked back. “Why would I need to research something I-”

“Just because you were there doesn’t mean you know the whole story!” Marinette yelled, pushing herself off her seat, causing her weight to push her palms into her nails even more.

“There was-”

“If you had done your damn job properly, then you would know why Bruce wasn’t there that gala! You would know what that gala meant to him! Hell, I bet you don’t even remember the purpose of that gala!”

“I do know why-”

“Then tell me! Enlighten me, Mr.I-Don’t-Need-To-Know-The-Whole-Story!” Marinette yelled, ignoring the tugs from Alya, the whispers towards her and the tiny hushes from Ms.Bustier.

“The gala was to celebrate the start of the Catherine Todd Foundation.” Adrien informed, looking at Marinette for confirmation. He found none, instead finding disappointment. “That’s what the whole-”

“That’s it?” A dry laugh came from Marinette, scaring everyone. “The Catherine Todd Foundation was more than a foundation. More than a foundation for the people of Gotham who suffered from mental illnesses and addiction. It was the foundation my brother spent months talking about with our father.” Marinette growled, making her way down the steps. “My brother spent months planning his speech about the foundation named after his beloved mother. It was something he looked forward to. Something he was proud of.”

“Then why wasn’t-”

“Because he died eight months before the launch of it!” Marinette yelled, tears rolling down her face. Scattered gasps and whispers sprouted around the classroom. “My brother died months before he can see one of his own dreams come true! He died before he could see his dream blossom into hope! Hope that he wanted to give to the children of Gotham who went through the same shit he did!”

Marinette stood in front of Adrien, her tears staining her shirt. Adrien tried to look away, but Marinette forced him to look at her.

“Our father had yet to recover from my brother’s death and when it came time for the scheduled gala, he just couldn’t bear to show his face. Everything reminded him of Jason. Dad couldn’t handle the pain, so he never showed up!” Marinette let go of Adrien, letting her arm drop to her side. 

“Jason Todd made the Catherine Todd Foundation possible. I was proud of him for overcoming his past. He helped me fix my relationship with our dad...and with our older brother Richard.”

“Marinette...I’m-”

“I don’t want your apology.” Marinette said, wiping away her tears. “Clearly, you’ve made it known that you rely on everything being fed to you. You don’t question anything thrown your direction. You don’t make an effort to learn more...to investigate.”

“Marinette. I had no idea-”

“Save it.” She cut off. “Until you change your perspective, I’ll have you know that as of now, Wayne Enterprises is no longer to work with Agreste.”

Adrien gaped at that declaration, holding her back when Marinette tried to leave.

“What do you mean Wayne Enterprise will no longer work with Agreste? Who exactly-”

“I meant what I said. And as a Wayne myself, I too have the authority to cut off any ties with companies I deem unworthy to invest on.”

A snort came from across the room, Marinette narrowing her eyes on Chloe. “What’s so funny?”

“You, Dupain-Cheng.” Chloe rose from her seat, pretending to dust off her pants. “Did you hit your head or something? Clearly you must have if you think-”

“I am a Wayne.” Marinette said, taking out her wallet and handing Chloe a card, watching the mayor’s daughter pale considerably. “If you don’t believe me, that’s fine. But let this be known. This will be the last time you ever know me as Marinette Dupain-Cheng. From now on, I’ll stop hiding behind a mask and take the name I have the right to say. 

My name is Amira Wayne and this is the last time you’ll ever see me.”

[pinestripes]

Quiet Day (The Last of Us)

Summary:

The last few months in Jackson have been paradise compared to the hellish cross-country road trip that came before. But scars still run deep, and shadows can lurk around even the brightest corners. 

Ellie has a bad day. Joel wants to help.

Rating: T for a bit of language

Can also be read here on AO3 and here on FFN.

Author’s Note:

I liiiiive! Feels good to publish something for the first time in...a year, actually, as of yesterday. I've had a busy and stressful year, though I'm sure a lot of you can relate. Anyway, I just love TLOU (as much as someone who has only watched playthroughs of it can), and I especially adore Ellie and Joel's dynamic. Thank you for reading!

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Joel is a light sleeper and an early riser. The latter has been a trait of his for most of his life; the former, however, developed by necessity once not being able to jerk awake the instant something went bump in the night became a death sentence. Both of these qualities together means that he rises before the first rays of sunrise stream into his room.

He throws on stained jeans and an old shirt. Scrubbing a hand across his bleary eyes, he lumbers into the bathroom. Once done in there, he heads downstairs and to his front porch, sinking into the rocking chair there with a sigh.

He opens the worn science fiction novel he’s been making his way through for the past week or two, quickly thumbing through the brittle brown pages before finding the one he dog-eared the day before. He wasn’t a big reader, back before everything went to shit, but he had been known to pick up a sci-fi or western, sometimes even a mystery novel, every once in a while.

Joel reads in the soft morning light for half an hour or so before he exchanges the book for the guitar that has been resting by the front door. He lazily strums a few bars of a couple different songs, humming. Ellie will be awake soon, and it’s their morning ritual that when she comes down he helps her practice for a little while before breakfast.

Contrary to his expectations, Ellie doesn’t make her appearance. A familiar anxiety, one he feels less and less often the longer they stay in Tommy and Maria’s compound, clamps down on his chest. He stands and leans the guitar against the wall, the instrument making a discordant twung when he drops it less than gently in his hurry. He stalks into the house and through the barebones living room, eyes on the stairs to the second floor as his footsteps quicken and the clamp squeezes, squeezes, squeezes—

He jerks to a stop when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He whips his head around to peer into the kitchen. Ellie is sitting there hunched over at the table, nibbling at a piece of buttered toast.

Suddenly Joel feels a little foolish. His heart is pounding, breathing shallow and quiet. He forces himself to take two slow breaths in and out, feeling the clamp slowly release, lungs expanding and taking in air once more. Finally, he says, voice nearly steady, “There you are, kiddo. Thought maybe you were still asleep.”

Ellie startles, looking up at him with a sharp intake of breath. (He’s surprised she didn’t hear his heavy footsteps into the house from the porch, actually.) Her shoulders relax again when she sees him. “Morning,” she says and returns to her toast.

Shaking off the last of the adrenaline rush and deciding he may as well join her for breakfast, he pads into the kitchen and starts getting out supplies for omelettes, thanking his lucky stars the hydroelectric plant has been providing the town with electricity, and therefore refrigeration, consistently for the last few weeks. “What do you want in your omelette?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Ellie?”

“Hm?”

“What do you want in your omelette today? I got some more green peppers from the garden yesterday, and we’ve got some ham, believe it or not—”

“I’m just going to have the toast today.”

“That all?”

“Yeah, I’m not really hungry.”

“You sure?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He leaves it alone and goes back to making his own breakfast. Usually Ellie would be chattering up a storm by now, but when he’s nearly finished with his omelette and she still hasn’t said a word he finds himself speaking again. “So, didn’t want to do guitar today?”

Silence.

“Ellie?”

“Yeah?”

He sets the omelette on his plate and brings it to the table, taking a seat to her left. “You alright? You seem kind of out of it this morning.”

She shrugs. He notices she hasn’t made much headway on the piece of toast. “I’m fine. M’just tired. Didn’t sleep much. What did you ask?”

He quirks a doubtful brow. “I asked if you didn’t want to practice the guitar today.”

“I just thought we could...take a break today.”

He nods, and returns to eating, deciding once again not to push the issue. By the time his plate is clean she’s finishing the last few little bites of the toast. They both stand to wash their plates and utensils. Per routine, Ellie washes and Joel dries.

Concerned with the continued silence, he decides to give one last try. “So. It’s Sunday. Got any big plans?”

“No, don’t think so,” she responds.

“Not gonna go see Jessie, or, uh, Dina? Or anyone?”

“Nah.” She scrubs at a pan mechanically. “I think I’m just going to stay in and read a book.”

“Alright, then.”

They finish up, and Ellie heads upstairs to her bedroom. He goes to bring the guitar back in from the porch, then stands in the middle of the living room for a minute, feeling a little lost. Finally he sighs and heads out back to weed the vegetable garden. He can tell it’s going to be a quiet day.

Every once in a while, something—a nightmare maybe, or maybe a bandit attack, he can’t always figure it out for sure—will shake Ellie. She’ll retreat into herself, go quiet and distant. She’ll be spacy and—well, he isn’t sure what else to call it but flat. Which is decidedly not Ellie-like.

He’s learned that if he tries to push too much, if he tries to convince her to get out of the house or to talk to him, she gets cagey and defensive. So, even though he hates to see her light so dim, he gives her space and makes sure others do the same. Sometimes she’ll reach out to him of her own accord, looking to talk or a distraction in the form of a guitar lesson. She’s usually back to herself by the next day.

It’s lunchtime once he’s weeded the garden and patched up a few wobbly posts on the porch railing, a continuation of his ongoing attempts to renovate the house. He heads up the stairs and to Ellie’s door. He raps his knuckles against it twice. At her affirmative response, he opens the door and pokes his head in. “I’m thinking I’m going to head to the mess for lunch. You hungry?”

She’s laying on her bed in a loose fetal position, facing the door with a book lying open in front of her at an angle that suggests she hasn’t actually been reading it. “I’m okay.”

“You sure? You didn’t eat much for breakfast.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Suit yourself, then.” He almost shuts the door, then remembers something else. “Hey, Tommy mentioned something about a roof needin’ fixin’ yesterday. He might try and drag me into helpin’ him with that after we eat, so it could be a couple hours before I get back. That okay?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He doesn’t worry; he knows it’ll be a few hours at least before she wants company. “Alright. See you later.”

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Tommy does drag Joel into helping fix a roof, and it takes almost three hours, but he finally finds himself at Ellie’s door again.

He knocks on it, twice again. “Hey, uh...just wanted to let you know I was home.”

“Okay,” she responds through the door.

“...I’ll be downstairs.”

When she doesn’t respond, he walks away, intent on continuing his ongoing Sunday project—fixing the floor in the downstairs bedroom. He’s been replacing the busted up hardwood in the downstairs bedroom little by little on Sundays—when everyone gets the day off in town, with the exception of a regular rotation of necessary jobs like patrol duty. It gives him something to do.

When it gets close to 5:30, according to the cracked, flickering display on the oven, Joel squares his shoulders and heads back to his familiar place outside Ellie’s door.

He knocks, asking “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

He opens the door to see that she has shifted onto the floor, leaning against the side of the bed that’s facing the door, a book in her lap. He thinks she might have actually been reading it, which is a good sign.

“About time for supper. Ready to head over to Tommy’s?” Sunday night dinner at Tommy and Maria’s place is a regular part of their routine. Joel and Ellie host dinner on either Wednesdays or Thursdays, depending on the schedule.

She shrugs. “Eh, I’m not really hungry.”

Joel’s already decided that he is going to press the issue this time. She seems a little perkier, so he figures it should go over okay. “All you’ve had today is some toast. And they’re expectin’ us.”

Ellie pulls a face. It’s not as exaggerated as usual, but it’s close. “Do I have to?”

He jerks his head in the direction of the door. “Come on.”

She sighs and pulls herself up off the floor before shoving her hands in her pockets and trudging out the door. He follows behind, the twitch of a smile on his face.

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

Ellie’s still quieter than usual at dinner, which earns Joel questioning looks from both his brother and sister-in-law. He just answers with a shrug and a meaningful look, which they accept, already having witnessed a few of these days before.

As they finish up their lasagna, Joel goes ahead and suggests watching a movie. He knows Ellie loves the compound’s movie nights just as much as the little ones.

“Can we?” she asks eagerly, a familiar spark flickering in her eyes.

Tommy and Maria look at each other. “Well, sure. Why not?” Maria says.

They clear the table quickly after that and select an action movie that Joel is pretty sure he caught on TV one night ages ago when Sarah was at a sleepover. The pang the thought sends through him is quick and biting, but the way Ellie bounces in her seat on the couch with anticipation helps him put the thought to rest once he recognizes it.

He takes his seat next to her. Ellie starts out resting against the arm of the couch, chin propped in her hand, but by the beginning of the movie’s second big action sequence she’s shifted to lean into his side. He adjusts so they’re both a little more comfortably settled into each other, his arm draping around the back of the couch.

Neither of them move for the rest of the movie, except for when Joel’s arm shifts to settle around her shoulders.

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

By the time the credits roll, it’s dark out. They walk through the cool fall night back to their house. Joel is glad to see that the movie night has helped Ellie perk up to her normal self. She babbles about the film’s effects and discusses the story’s various plot holes and inconsistencies. For his part, Joel mostly just listens and occasionally responds in agreement.

“I mean, what even was the bad guy’s plan?” she asks. “The bald asshole kept babbling about missiles or something, but I’m pretty sure he never actually said what they were going to do with the missiles. Right?”

“Don’t believe he did,” Joel responds.  

“And why did that one agent think going in without backup was a good idea? I mean, yeah, it was badass, but it was obviously going to fail from the beginning.”

“Don’t rightly know.”

“And for pete’s sake, why did the woman agent not have pants on for half the movie?”

“Because the people who made the movie were gross old men, probably.”

Ellie snorts. “You’re probably right.”  

They lapse into a companionable silence for a few minutes before Ellie suddenly leans over to nudge Joel’s arm with her elbow. “Hey.”

“Hm?” he questions, turning to give her his full attention from where it had been scanning the night sky—as far as he can tell, the single positive effect of the apocalypse is the decrease in pollution, including light pollution, which means the sky is blanketed in stars no matter where you are.

She sticks her hands in her jacket pockets, looking away with flushed cheeks and scuffing the heel of her shoe in the dirt before turning to look him in the face. “Thanks, Joel.”

He doesn’t need to ask what for. “Anytime, baby girl.”

[winryofresembool]

Caleo fic: It’s all about the name

Chapters 3-4(/5)

Summary: Calypso is a barista at a coffee shop and one day she gets a customer who refuses to give her his real name. At first he seems really annoying but eventually Calypso finds out not all is what it looks like on the surface. (Coffee shop AU!)

a/n: More updates! Only one more to go after these two chapters that I'm posting today. I would have loved to make this au even longer but time is a b*tch and I'm really itching to continue working on twlitf already.

Hope you enjoy and please do leave me comments because even if I have almost finished this fic, I definitely want to know what you guys think!

Words: 3,6k+

Genre: fluff, humor

Warnings: none

previous chapters / AO3 

...

The next day, the ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ showed up at the coffee shop just like he had promised. He didn’t have to ask for Calypso because she spotted him from afar, being rather easy to recognize. They didn’t have a lot of customers wearing an army jacket over an orange shirt, tools hanging from the pockets, and the bottom half being the work coveralls. At least he had left his backpack home this time, Calypso sighed with relief. She couldn’t deny, though, that in a weird way that outfit suited him. As she saw him more closely, she noticed he seemed pretty cheerful, which was probably a good sign. Or then he was just preparing to annoy her some more and was already looking forward to that. Calypso supposed she’d find out soon enough.

Either way, she stepped closer to the counter so the ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ could see her better.

“So you did come,” she greeted him and he gave her that annoying grin of his that seemed to come so naturally.

“Why, of course,” he responded. “Couldn’t possibly have missed the opportunity to see the Sunshine again.”

“Are you flirting with me? Because I swear, if you are, it’s not going to work,” Calypso told him bluntly, still having her latest relationship too fresh in her mind.

“That’s crazy talk,” the guy responded, putting his hand over his chest. “How would I even dare to flirt with you? You’re way out of my league.”

“Out of your league? Uh, I don’t know about that,” Calypso mumbled, more to herself than to him. The broken relationships had left a mark on her self esteem and she didn’t consider herself as someone to be looked up to.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” the guy said, looking confused.

“Um, nothing,” Calypso tried to brush it off. “It was not relevant. But enough with that; what are you going to order? Remember, it’s on the house. Do you want the double espresso you ordered yesterday or something else?”

“I’d rather have something else,” the guy said, his gaze going back and forth between Calypso and the menu. “Truth to be told, I’m not big on coffee. I’ve noticed it makes me even more hyper than I already am. ADHD and all that good stuff, you know. Yesterday was a special occasion because I had to work overtime.”

“Alright, what will that something else be then?” Calypso asked, feeling that a lot of things about this guy already made more sense.

“Anything with no caffeine would be good. What would you rec? You’re the expert on your menu, after all,” he noted.

“Do you like sweet things?” Calypso asked.

“Sweet is fine, yeah,” the guy agreed. 

“Then how about hot chocolate? We’re pretty generous with the whipped cream we add on it,” Calypso promised. “And we can even add marshmallows if you like those.”

“I think just the cream will be fine, don’t wanna be in a complete sugar coma when I need to go back to work,” the guy noted. “To go, by the way. I can’t stay long.”

“Fine, one hot chocolate without marshmallows coming then. Will you finally tell me your name?” Calypso asked.

“Super-sized McShizzle,” the guy replied without missing a beat.

“Just when I thought that you might be an OK guy after all…” Calypso said but the tone of her voice told she wasn’t being serious.

“What’s life without some mystery, Sunshine?” He smiled at her and Calypso wondered briefly what the hell this conversation was about really.

“Yeah, what indeed?” she responded. Then she realized that the silly conversation had been going on long enough for a small queue form behind the guy. “Well, Johnny.” His mouth twitched when she said the new made up name. “Your hot chocolate will be waiting for you at the other counter in a minute. And I hope you won’t scare me so much this time that I’ll drop the drink.”

“Will try to not do that.”

The Super-sized McShizzle or Bad Boy Supreme moved to the other counter, and as Calypso was shaking the canned whipped cream, she was still playing the conversation in her head. For an outsider it probably seemed like they were being rude to each other. But Calypso thought she had learned to read this stranger a bit better already and guessed he actually enjoyed their bickering - and she had to admit that some part of her enjoyed them as well. Drawing a small heart after the made up name Johnny, she finally approached him at the counter and managed to deliver the hot chocolate without messing anything up. ‘Johnny’ took it gratefully but he gave her a funny look when he read his name on the cup.

“Aw, you even drew a heart there!” He noted. “I am starting to think you have started warming up to me.”

“No way. You? Why would I do that?” Calypso raised her eyebrow questioningly, but it probably wasn’t very effective thanks to her red cheeks.

“Because all the ladies love…” he checked his name from the cup again. “Johnny?”

“You should learn to know when to stop,” Calypso warned, rolling her eyes, but her mouth betrayed her.

“Oh c’mon, your mouth just twitched. I saw it,” the guy said. Then he took a swig from his cup and hummed approvingly. “Yup. This is the stuff. Not bad, Sunshine, I would definitely drink this again.”

“I’m glad you like it, especially since it’s supposed to be my apology to you.”

“In that case, apology accepted.” ‘Johnny’ wiped his mouth and checked the clock on the wall. “Well, I won’t bother you more this time because Jo is expecting me to be back at the garage any minute now. I was surprised she allowed me to come here in the first place but she seemed to think it’s good for me to meet new people. Apparently I spend too much time at work. But oh well, if I want to buy a car I need to save a lot of money…”

“That’s why you’re working overtime?” Calypso asked curiously.

“Yeah… I’ve been moving from place to place almost my whole life so at least owning a car would make it easier… Unless I find some reason to stay somewhere.” He shrugged, looking more serious than he had the whole time he’d been there. “I don’t know. But yeah, I should get going now. Maybe I’ll see around some time, though.” His smile returned. “This place is definitely better than I first thought.”

“Yeah, maybe I will see you around,” Calypso said, feeling a bit flustered again. It seemed that there was a lot more to this stranger’s story than she had first imagined. The small glimpses of the reality behind his jokes gave her a picture of a restless, unsure young man who was still looking for his place in the world. That piqued her interest and made her wish she really would see him again.

…

The mystery guy started visiting the coffee shop regularly during his breaks. After a couple of weeks Calypso already knew that his boss was called Jo and she was married to a woman called Emmie who handled the flower shop side of the business and they had an adoptive daughter Georgina. Even though the mystery guy hadn’t stayed in town for more than a couple of months so far, he seemed to have formed a strong bond with these people and especially adored the little Georgie whom he treated almost like a sister. Calypso also knew that the guy’s best friends were called Jason and Piper but unfortunately they were currently studying in another town so he couldn’t see them that often. He also had a pet lizard called Festus who apparently liked to nibble pretty much everyone except his fingers. Despite knowing all of that, there was still something Calypso didn’t know about him.

“Let’s play the game: guess my name,” the ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ suggested one time when he was ordering a soda.  “What do you think?”

Calypso thought about it for a moment. “Alright. Mike? Chris? Alex? Peter? Luke?”

“No, no, no, no and no,” he answered without hesitating, his mouth curled up with amusement.

“Ed? Sebastian? Jake? Thomas? Leon?” Calypso kept throwing in random names that came to her mind.

“Still no to all,” the mystery guy shook his head. “Although those were not half bad guesses. I wouldn’t mind being called Ed. A character in one of my favorite animes is called that and he’s quite a badass.”

“You watch anime?” Calypso asked curiously. “I wouldn’t have guessed that about you.”

“Well, I’m full of surprises.” He smirked before turning more serious. “Um, truth to be told, Georgina keeps ranting about her favorite animes when she’s hanging out at the garage with me and one time I just decided to binge watch some of them to be able to keep up with her. Turns out some of them are actually quite solid. Like this Fullmetal Alchemist. Ahem, but that probably isn’t interesting to you so I’ll stop now.”

“No, don’t worry about it!” Calypso reassured him. “I like hearing about your interests. I am not that familiar with anime but maybe some time you can recommend something to me to watch when I have more free time.”

“Yeah, maybe.” The guy smiled before turning a bit hesitant. “Um, I know you’re probably busy and stuff but I have a free chair at my table if you happen to be in need of a break. Just sayin’, but it’s OK if you can’t.”

Calypso was surprised that he asked so bluntly. The truth was that a bit before his appearance she had already considered taking a break so the timing was good enough and she decided to accept his offer. It was a quiet moment at the coffee shop so her coworkers were fine with it as well.

“You know now that I watch anime but what about your interests?” the ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ asked once they had settled down at an empty table. “What do you do outside this coffee shop?”

“You really want to know?” Calypso questioned.

“Of course I do!” he said immediately. “I’ve revealed quite a bit about myself so it’s your turn now.”

Calypso felt a bit hesitant about talking about personal stuff, possibly afraid her mystery customer would judge her. “I, um… I have a mini garden on my balcony… I grow some edible plants there. I also enjoy reading because it's a good distraction from some unwanted thoughts.”

“I can relate to that,” the guy confessed but didn’t elaborate. Calypso wondered briefly what he may have wanted distraction from.

“Yeah…” she said instead of asking more because she doubted he would have liked that. “When I was a kid, I used to do a lot of music related things, like sing, play the piano and stuff like that but I stopped at some point because my father seemed to think it’s a waste of time. So, yeah. I was pretty upset about that. Who knows, maybe when I have more money I’ll be able to take more classes again… Lately I’ve been trying to express myself by painting, though, because watercolors are luckily cheap and I really needed something to do after…” She stopped when she realized she was about to reveal too much.

“After what?” the guy wanted to know.

“I don’t even know your name so I have no idea why I’m telling you this… but I guess it can’t hurt. I can trust you, right?”

“Of course!” her chat mate assured.

Calypso sighed before continuing. “I recently broke up with someone with whom I had been in quite a long relationship. Yeah, looking back to it, maybe it was for the best because clearly he wasn’t as invested as I was, but it still hurt to hear that he wanted to break up with me because there was someone else in his life. So, that’s why I’ve needed more distractions lately.” When she saw his serious expression, she rushed to add: “Don’t worry about me, though, I’m fine. I’ve already accepted that this is how it is. Trust me, it’s better that way. But it explains why I was so grumpy on that day we met.”

“Oh, OK. Sorry about that guy. I think he made a big ass mistake there but unfortunately some of us can be kinda blind… Hey, what are you staring at?” he asked when he noticed her watching him weirdly. In reality, Calypso had felt a small, unexpected tug at her heart because of his niceness but she tried to cover it by shaking her head.

“Nothing. Sorry. I was just thinking about something. But I should get back to work, the coffee isn’t going to serve itself.”

“I guess it isn’t. Well, talk to you later,” the guy said but from the corner of her eye Calypso could see that he was probably wondering what had just happened there.

Chapter 4

Time passed, but some things didn’t change:

“So… when will you finally reveal your name to me? We’ve known each other for several weeks now and you’re still being so mysterious,” Calypso noted one day when the ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ showed up at the coffee shop again. Like earlier, she had asked her coworkers if she could have her break so she could talk with him and they had accepted her request but given each other funny glances behind Calypso’s back, as if saying ‘we know what you are doing here’.

“I will do that when you finally call me Bad Boy Supreme instead of Johnny or Ben or David or whatever fake name you come up with each time.” He just smirked at her and Calypso 100% expected him to keep his word.

“No. That’s the one thing I cannot do, you weirdo,” she said stubbornly.

“Alright, then no can do,” he teased.

Calypso did continue asking him about other things, though, and got some answers.

“Why did you want to become a mechanic? Is it just because cars are cool or did you have some deeper reason for that?”

“Actually, my dream is to become a mechanical engineer so I get better tools to invent - and fix - all sorts of things, not just cars, but at the moment I don’t have enough money to go to college. So, I’m working to save up for that too, not just for the car. I know, sounds like a mission impossible. I will have to work about ten thousand years to save that much. I’ve just… always enjoyed building and fixing things, ever since I watched my mum do that when I was a kid… It’s in my blood.”

“Oh… then your mum must be proud that you want to follow her footsteps!” Calypso said gently, but the guy’s expression darkened.

“Yeah… maybe she would be… if she was still alive.”

“Oh no!” Calypso covered her mouth with her hands when she realized her mistake. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed…”

“It’s OK,” he sighed. “I’m starting to get used to it.”

There was a moment of silence before Calypso asked: “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but… when did it happen?”

The guy looked at her darkly. “I was 8 then… So over 10 years ago. Not exactly breaking news anymore. Been going from home to home since then until I got old enough to live on my own; my dear dad didn’t care about me enough to keep me.”

“Wow… I’m sorry… You just give me such a happy and outgoing picture of yourself that I couldn’t imagine… ugh, just ignore me, please. I need to stop rambling now,” Calypso said with embarrassment, blushing slightly.

The guy surprised both Calypso and himself by what he did next: he reached for her hand to reassure her.

“Hey, relax. I only told that to you because you seem like someone I can trust. Not a lot of those people in my life. But yeah, there’s no need to be embarrassed; you couldn’t have known.”

“Oh… I guess I should be honored then. Since you were honest with me, I’m gonna be too: I didn’t exactly have the best of childhoods either. My parents fought a lot before breaking up and my dad… he could be scary when he wanted to. He had to get things done his way and if he didn’t like something… he’d let us know, loudly. I guess some of my temper issues may stem from there.”

“Still thinking about that time when you yelled at me?” the guy asked. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not afraid of you.”

“That’s good to hear,” Calypso laughed nervously, tugging a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Anyway, when my parents got divorced, my father insisted I live with him instead of mum and that did not end up going well. His idea of good parenting was buying me expensive things I didn’t care about, while I could tell that in reality he couldn’t care less if I was there or not. He just wanted to humiliate my mother. I ended up moving out as early as possible, but that’s a whole other story…”

“And that’s why you’re working here now?” The Bad Boy Supreme wanted to know. “Because you desperately needed money? I mean, no offense, but I get a vibe from you that you don’t actually enjoy working here.”

Calypso glanced at her surroundings, making sure none of her coworkers and especially not the manager could hear her answer. Then she sighed. “Yeah. You’re not wrong. I did have some dreams when I was younger but… it’s like you said, it would take me about ten thousand years to be able to afford studying. The rent here isn’t free and I don’t even want to think about the college tuitions. Obviously my dad could afford them easily but I’m not going to stoop so low that I would ask him. I am not going to owe anyone, especially not him.”

The ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ gave her an approving half smile. “I see we have something in common, after all. We both have dreams that seem to be hard to achieve. And I definitely wouldn’t want to owe to my no good old man either. And families… Those can be bitches. But not something bad if not something good; thanks to my round around the country I feel like I may have finally found a place where I could maybe picture myself staying more than just a few months. The coffee here isn’t half bad and the people are decent too.” He winked at her, and she knew his words were actually quite a big compliment from him. Despite that, she pretended to be annoyed by his comment, putting her hands on her waist. 

“Not half bad? I don’t even remember you ordering coffee since that little incident – and you didn’t get your coffee back then - so how can you have an opinion on it?”

“That’s the thing, I didn’t get my coffee so that’s why it’s only ‘not half bad’ and not the ‘best coffee I’ve ever had’” he smiled at her smugly. “However, the hot chocolate was definitely worth getting yelled at.”

Calypso hated how contagious his smile was but she couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I’m glad to hear that.”

They were silent for a moment before the guy started: “Hey, listen… would you like to…”

His question was interrupted, though, because a customer nearby started causing ruckus, claiming the tea water was too cold (even though Calypso knew her coworkers always made sure it was hot enough) and the piece of cake was dry (even though someone had cut fresh pieces like half an hour ago) and she wanted her money back. Reyna was serving her and trying to politely say that she was sorry the customer felt that way and that they’d make sure to do better the next time, but the customer wouldn’t listen. Calypso could tell Reyna’s patience was running thin so she decided to finish her break then and there and go to help, but she had only managed to stand up from her chair when she noticed that she wasn’t the only one wanting to defend the honor of their coffee shop.

“Hey, you,” ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ said loudly, addressing the woman who had complained. “Don’t like, don’t buy. It’s as simple as that. There are other places where you can get your low fat cake with extra cream on the top that will surely match your interests better.”

The woman just glared at him, going slightly red from her face, before dramatically turning away and leaving the coffee house. Calypso sighed of relief, thankful that nothing worse happened.

“That wasn’t really necessary, you know,” she tried to scold her companion but the attempt was half hearted. “I’m sure Reyna would have been able to handle it.”

“Oh, yeah, I don’t have a doubt about that,” he said. “But sometimes it’s fun to let those privileged douches hear it. You guys are just too polite. Well, most of the time. I guess some customers do have a way to crawl under your skin but that requires special talent.” He grinned at her in a way that may have tried to be flirty but failing.

“Oh, yeah, a special talent indeed,” Calypso confirmed, throwing her long braid over her shoulder. “I’m the epitome of patience, as we know. Well, I should get back to work now; my coworkers are probably waiting for me already.” She looked at Reyna apologetically but she didn’t seem to mind one bit. “It was nice talking to you, though, Raymond.”

“That’s the best you can come up with? C’mon, you can do better than that,” ‘Raymond’ protested but waved her a goodbye with a big smile on his face. Calypso gave him a shy smile back.

[thefanficmonster]

For Better And Through Worse

Rodney Skinner (The League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen) x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Romance

Summary: Y/N is a simple girl with big dreams. She works hard towards her goal of travelling the world, seeing all it has to offer. She’s also a devoted student, one with the hopes of one day fulfilling yet another dream of becoming a fashion designer and leaving the town her and her sister have been stuck working in. Her stars align and fate smiles down upon her one day when a rather mysterious man makes his way in the café she works at.

Requested by Anon. Hello there! I’m so terribly sorry to be posting your request so late, dear. I hope the fic makes the wait worth it. This is the first time I’ve been introduced to this character and this movie in its entirety and I absolutely loved it! Thank you so much for the request and for your patience. Please enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

“Close that book, Y/N! Your shift’s starting!“ My manager scares me half to death when his voice suddenly booms throughout the empty diner. 

It’s close to one in the morning and I’m stuck with the shitty overnight shift tonight because my older sister wasn’t feeling well. I arrived early while my friend still hadn’t finished his shift and decided to kill time productively by studying behind the cash register. Even though my shift has started, there is no real reason for me to abandon my book considering how dead the place is. Dead, eerie and unsettling. It’s 24/7 diner in the middle of seemingly nowhere. Well, our town in general is a big ‘nowhere’. If you came here on vacation - no you didn’t. You probably got lost along the way to a different destination. If you live here - good luck, hope you get out soon.

A young, 5′2 girl with only a can of pepper spray to defend herself with left in a café working the shift from one to eight AM. That’s simply ludicrous! I can hardly believe my manager has the audacity to leave like this. Not even a ‘call if you need anything’ out of politeness. Nothing! He doesn’t like any of the workers here so I don’t take it personal but he’s EXTRA mean to me because my sister turned his offer of a date down. It’s a surprise he hasn’t fired the both of us yet. To be perfectly honest, I don’t know if he’d be doing damage or doing us a favor by firing us.

I wait for the jerk to leave before reopening my book and proceeding with my reading. I can’t contain the smile that automatically appears on my face whenever my mind wanders into the contents of the pages. Seeing the pictures of the fashion creations gives me hope that one day I’ll be standing in front of a mannequin that will be displaying a piece I’ve designed. A piece won’t be enough though. I want an entire clothing line. Several even! The fiery passion in me won’t be easily satisfied - I have a vivid goal in mind and I won’t rest until I have it in my hands, until I’m looking at my clothes in the windows of shops and in magazines.

I unintentionally stop reading let myself daydream - well, it’s more like dreaming with open eyes considering it’s one AM. My imagination is sometimes so real it scares me. It all feels like I can reach out and grab it, hold it close, live it for a little while. However, that ideal life is soon ended by the sound of the bell that hangs above the door of the café ringing. I come flying down from my daydreaming cloud with a startled jump. My heart is beating quickly for no real reason other than the fact that there’s a person here at this hour. Knowing the type of town this one is, they are either one of the local drunks or not local at all. An outsider. The ones that everyone assumes are criminals on the run.

I couldn’t blame them if they said that about this guy. Mysterious, shady, suspicious - all adjectives that describe him perfectly. His sudden presence makes me uneasy. Many outsiders who choose to stick around for a bit frequent this bar, therefore I know some of them. This one I have never seen before. He almost looks unreal - a walking doll. He’s got an abnormally pale, sheet white complexion, a top hat and sunglasses. Sunglasses?! At the dead of an already pitch black night. I’m surprised he hasn’t stumbled into something yet. Maybe he has, what do I know.

“Good evening. One beer please.“ He says, hopping onto a bar stool and resting his elbows on the counter top of the bar that some ways down from the cash register - the two counters are connected.

“Coming right up.“ That’s the usual response I give to customers but I’ve never said it so hesitantly. He’s not being creepy or anything, he’s not even doing the staring most customers do which while uncomfortable, I still have to tolerate. The only truly off-putting thing about him is his appearance and the fact that he’s here at this hour. Drinking beer.

I keep my gaze on him out of the corner of my eye as I go fetch a cold beer bottle from the fridge behind the bar. I typically do waitressing, but I know my way around the bar as well. I see him reach for yesterday’s paper one of the previous customers has left there. He’s still distracted by it when I approach him and put a coaster down in front of him as well as the beer bottle, mumbling a quick: “Here you go.”

He lifts his head only enough to give me a nod with a small smile. From that proximity, the color of his skin looks more like paint, which is even more unsettling. He has also taken off his sunglasses, his eyes now free to make direct contact with mine which makes me pause for a second before asking the second routine question, “Anything else?”

“Uh, yes....“ His eyes go down to my nametag, “Y/N, could you tell me where this address is?“ He slides a piece of paper over closer to me. 

I reluctantly nod and look at the note he’s handed me. The letters are written in poor handwriting but I can still decipher the majority of what’s written. “This address is from the next town over, sir.” I inform him with a tightlipped smile that’s my way of sort of apologizing for the inconvenience.

He nods slowly, “Well, how far is this town exactly?” He furrows his brows at me and takes out a pen, taking the note back so he could write something at the back of it. 

“It’s a city compared to this one. It’s a two hour drive from here.“ I tilt my head to the side, discreetly looking at what he’s writing down.

“Thank you.“ He puts the note and pen away, “By the way, don’t take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here?“ He gives me puzzled look.

I scoff and shrug my shoulders, “Working, as you can see. I’m covering this shift for someone else, I don’t usually work it.” I respond nonchalantly. 

“No, I mean what are you doing working here at all?“ He points at me, “That dress, it’s self-made, right?“ 

Ok that’s off-putting. Either he is clairvoyant or it’s so obvious that an amateur has made it that he couldn’t help but notice and point it out. All I can give as an answer is a slight nod, a baffled expression on my face.

“That’s what I thought. It’s incredible.“ He probably realizes that he has caught me off-guard and has confused me, so he shakes his head with a small chuckle and a wave of his glove covered hand. “I saw the book you were reading on my way in. Fashion and design. So you’re an aspiring clothing designer?“ 

I feel relief wash over me as the confused furrow and pursed lips are replaced by a relaxed smile. I take the few steps back to where I was previously sitting and where I’ve left the book. I hand it to him once I return for him to see. “Yes, but the course here is expensive and I can’t afford it without this job.”

He nods slowly as his eyes carefully scans the pages he turns. “Impressive, so a goal-getter as well.”

I can’t help but giggle, “And a traveler at heart. I also need the money for that...” I open the book to it’s last page and show him the list I have written of places I’d like to visit. 

His eyes widen a bit in amazement as they go down the neatly written list. “You know, I’ve visited some of these places. I plan on visiting the rest as well. I could use a partner.” He winks at me playfully.

I roll my eyes, “As I said, I can’t afford it. You think I’d still be in this town if I could?” I say rather bitterly. Feels like the subject is an open wound and talking about it is the same as pouring salt on it.

“Who says you’ll have to pay a penny. I said I’d like some company, you’ll be paying me with your presence.“ His gaze is firm on mine, his tone suggesting he isn’t kidding around. I unintentionally let my disbelief morph into a ‘bullshit’ expression of distrust that causes him to raise his hands up as if surrendering, “No funny business, though I know what this looks like to you. Trust me, I wouldn’t offer that to just anybody. I sense how strongly you wish to fulfill your dreams. I see it all in your eyes, there’s a flame behind them. And...I’m gonna be honest, I’ve done many less than honorable things in my life. But when I see a chance to do good, I want to take it. Now it’s on you, take it or leave it.“

I’m stunned and frozen. I can’t even answer him. I’m just standing here with my mouth hanging open and eyes wide, staring at him awaiting for him to burst out laughing at any moment like ‘Did you really believe that?!’  But he doesn’t. He remains serious and after what feels like forever smirks, putting a hundred bucks next to the untouched beer bottle. 

“If you change your mind...I swing back the same time tomorrow.“

Before I can even shake free from my shock he has already left. I didn’t even get the chance to tell him I won’t be here the same time tomorrow. I feel my heart sink as my mind races, two sides of me battling - one that wants to take the chance that’s being offered to me and the other scolding me for even considering it.

Dumb or not I’m rooting for the first side. 

Eyes don’t lie. Just like he read me so well just by looking at mine, I read him by looking at his. All he said was true, not a doubt in my mind about it. He meant all he said and for some odd reason I believe him despite him being a complete stranger. I don’t even know his name, for goodness’ sake! But I want to go with him. The hard part for me would be leaving my family behind though.

Well, I have a little less than twenty four hours and a seemingly never-ending uneventful shift ahead of me to ponder it.

                                                              *  *  *

I can’t believe any of this - not what I’ve done, not what I’m doing and most definitely not what I’m about to do.

I have packed my bags and snuck out of the house, running at full speed to the café. When I arrived I was breathless, with a heart beating faster than a galloping horse.

I’m now waiting for the man. The stranger. The person who could be anyone or anything - including dangerous - but right now all he is to me is my path to success, the person who’ll guide me to achieving my goals.

I’m about to go running away with this man, off to God knows where. No one guarantees he won’t do harm to me. I can’t be 100% certain this won’t end badly for me. All I can do is take this chance if I want to. And I really REALLY want to. 

Just as the clock strikes 1:25 AM, an old car pulls up at the curb in front of the café. I’m standing in the shadows, away from any windows to avoid being spotted by the worker who’s on the dead shift as I call it. The way the car has parked it’s positioned directly underneath a street lamp, almost like it’s under a spotlight. The door to the drivers side opens to reveal the same man from last night. When he steps out in the lamp’s light he looks to be glowing, his unusually pale complexion shinning in the light. 

“Y/N!“ I call out to him, startling him for once instead of the other way around.

He stops and looks around, taking the sunglasses off and narrowing his eyes at his surroundings. I chuckle to myself and step within the line of light, “My name’s Y/N. You already know that.” His eyes land on me and a smile spreads across his face as well as mine. “I don’t know yours though.”

He takes a step towards me, “Rodney. Rodney Skinner. Though, please don’t let that name throw you off. It was given to me for far less sadistic reasons than you may be imagining right now.”

I can’t help but laugh, “All I ask is for you to not skin me alive.”

He gives me a small bow, “I shall respect your request. Now...“ he straightens his posture and turns to motion to his car, “To freedom and adventure?”

I don’t know what takes over me and drives me to close the space between us, but it is also to blame for the fact that I pressed my lips against him. Even after realizing what I have done, I don’t pull away. I don’t see my doing as wrong - in fact, I feel like I’m doing all the right things for myself tonight. He responds to the kiss after a second or two of stunned hesitation.

The little kid in me can’t wait for this journey to commence anymore so I pull away abruptly, giving him a bright, wide smile and my eyes bright. I watch as he comes back to the present moment and nods, mumbling as if to himself a quick, “Right...” before circling around the car and opening the passenger side door. 

I gladly take a seat and fasten the seatbelt while Rodney takes my suitcase and backpack and puts them in the trunk of the car. Here it is, I’m seconds away from the biggest step in my life so far. A dangerous and risky step for sure, but the sense of freedom I feel is worth it all. The joy and excitement I feel as the car starts moving is all I need to keep looking forward and keep my mind off my family’s reaction when they find my goodbye note.

“By the way, what’s at that address you showed me yesterday?“ I ask to keep myself distracted from the aforementioned thought which is stronger than I thought it would be.

“Ah, a friend of mine, Nemo. He holds the vehicle of our travels. Tell me...“ his hand nonchalantly rests on top of mine between the seats causing me to blush, “have you ever traveled by a submarine?“

I physically jolt at the absurdness of the question, “You’re not serious!” I turn to look at him, my free hand covering my mouth which is hung open in disbelief.

He laughs, taking the hand he’s holding and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to my knuckles which relaxes me. “I’m deadly serious, Y/N. Speaking of Nemo though, do you know of any good barbecue places in that town? He loves a good barbecue.”

I grimace, “No and I’d much rather never know or enter one.” He gives me a quick puzzled glance, careful not to take his eyes off the road for too long, “I’m a vegetarian.” I clarify with a snicker.

I see the realization be processed and show on his face, followed by a laugh when he says, “Oh Nemo’s gonna love ya.”

I don’t know if that was sarcasm or ironic. I just know one thing - I have so much ahead of me at the moment. Travelling, studying, meeting new people, seeing a submarine, for the love of God! And even a potential romantic relationship. The future has never looked so bright for me, and this is all thanks to this abnormal yet hypnotic man next to me.

Freedom and adventure, here we come!

[thequeenxofhearts]

Jason Todd x Reader | Meeting with the Joker 3/3

Summary: In the final chapter of this three part story, Jason and the Reader go to the GCPD, where Reader meets the Joker to find out why he killed her father.

WARNINGS: Reader’s meeting with the Joker is dark, mentions of reader’s death.

WORD COUNT: 1579

Part1: https://thequeenxofhearts.tumblr.com/post/620167346577965057/hospital-jason-todd-x-reader-13

Part2: https://thequeenxofhearts.tumblr.com/post/620711832975540224/jason-todd-x-reader-recovery-23

Jason pulled into a parking space outside the GCPD.

You and he climbed up the stone steps, hand in hand.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Jason, I need to.” You replied, and he nodded. You knew he didn’t like this idea, but you needed to do this, you needed to see the Joker and ask why he did what he did. You knew he probably would not give a straight answer, but it made you feel at easy just to ask him, ‘Why did you kill my father?’

 Commissioner Gordon was waiting for you inside the building, and you saw he was standing with Dick Grayson.

“Dick?” Jason asked. “Jason, Y/N!” Dick exclaimed, you could tell he was relieved to see you.

“Where did you find him?” You asked.

“Batman came for the plans for the chemical plant yesterday, we went over them together. I put a team together and went with Batman and Robin to the plant, sure enough the Joker was hiding in a bunker. Many of the workers were unaware of the bunker.”

“Where is now? The Joker?” You asked.

“In the interrogation room.” Commissioner Gordon said.

You looked at Jason, and he sighed. “Can we see him?” He asked.

Commissioner Gordon nodded, and he led you, Jason, and Dick through the station and into a room.

Bruce was stood in there. “Y/N? I wasn’t expecting you to come here.”

“I need to Bruce.” You replied. Bruce looked at Jason, and then at Dick, before he looked back at you, and then he nodded.

You noticed a large window in the room, and as you stepped closer to it, you saw the Joker.

 You could tell he had put up a fight with Batman and Robin; his purple blazer was torn, his green hair dishevelled, and his bleached skin was dirty.

But he was staring at you, it was a two-way mirror, you didn’t know how he was doing it, but you were sure he was looking at you. The others noticed it too.

You could feel the tension coming from Jason, and the room was completely silent, until the Commissioner cleared his throat, “We’re waiting for Doctor Bartholomew to arrive, then he’ll be taken back to Arkham.”

“Can I speak to him?” You asked, staring at the Joker.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Y/N.” Dick replied.

“I agree.” Commissioner Gordon added.

You looked at Bruce, and he looked at you, “You think you’ll get answers from him?” He asked.

“It might help.” Jason suggested.

You heard Dick sigh, and he exchanged glances with the Commissioner.

“It’s not my decision.” Bruce replied.

“I can let you speak to him, but I can’t let you go in there alone.” Commissioner Gordon said, you nodded, “Ok.”

 Commissioner Gordon unlocked the interrogation room, and you followed him in. He quickly closed the door behind him. Two police officers stood on the other side and were prepared for the Joker if he somehow managed to free himself of the handcuffs and ankle cuffs.

“Well, well, well.” The Joker smiled, “Looks like someone made a speedy recovery!” He laughed.

Jason, Dick, and Bruce stood remained in the other room, watching the meeting take place. Jason’s clenched his fists as he listened to the Joker’s laugh.

Bruce put his hand firmly on Jason’s shoulder.

 “Guess you came to ask me why?” He asked, leaning back in the chair.

You nodded, “What did you have against my father?”

The Joker shrugged, “Nothing. It was just fortunate that he would answer the door instead of you.”

Goosebumps covered your body, and your heart almost stopped, “The bomb wasn’t intended for my father, was it?”

The Joker chuckled, “No it was not.” He threw his head back and laughed, manically. You took a shaky breath.

 “Bastard!” Jason growled, clenching his fists again.

 “Why?” You asked.

The Joker leaned in closer to you, the Commissioner cleared his throat, almost as if to warn him.

“Because of lover boy.” He winked, you narrowed your eyes at him. You hoped he did not know Jason was the Red Hood, but he probably did.

“Oh, Y/N, stop pretending. I know Jason is the Red Hood!” He exclaimed.

Commissioner Gordon raised an eyebrow, “What? That’s ridiculous, clown!”

The Joker laughed again, “Oh it’s true, Bruce Wayne is Batman.”

“Alright, that’s enough!” The Commissioner exclaimed, “You left a bomb on the doorstep of Mr Y/L/N’s house, because you followed Y/N from the city, and you hoped to kill her, not her father. You know she is dating Jason Todd, adopted son of billionaire Bruce Wayne, that’s how you know who she is!”

“Wow, that’s a story I’d pay to read!” The Joker exclaimed, “But I hate t’break it t’ya, Commish, Jason Todd is the Red Hood. I should know, I killed him.”

The Commissioner tutted, “You’re wasting our time now. Doctor Bartholomew will be here shortly, and you’ll be taken back to Arkham.”

The Commissioner stood up from the table, and you quickly followed him out of the interrogation room, and then he locked the door behind him.

 Jason ran around the corner and pulled you into his arms, “It’s ok.” He whispered into your ear.

“He wanted to kill me.” You whimpered.

“I won’t let him.” Jason replied, holding you tighter.

“Take her home, Jason.” Bruce spoke.

Jason turned to Bruce, the two held eye contact for a few seconds.

“Let’s go.” Jason whispered.

 The journey home was a blur.

The entire journey, you kept thinking about what the Joker had said; that the bomb was intended for you, because he knew your death would have a huge impact on Jason and Bruce, and the other members of the Bat-family.

You kept thinking if you had not gone to the bathroom you would be dead now. But maybe your dad would still be alive.

“Hey.” Jason interrupted your thoughts; he was holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate for you.

You smiled as he sat next to you.

“Try not to think about what he said, Y/N.”

“I can’t.” You replied, Jason wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close to him.

“You can, just try and think about something else.” He muttered, “Everything is going to be ok; I’ll make sure of it.”

You looked up at him, his jaw was clenched, and his eyes narrowed.

“What are you going to do?” You asked.

Jason’s face softened when you spoke, and he smiled down at you. “Don’t worry about it.”

  A little while later, you fell asleep, and Jason carried you to the bedroom and laid you on the bed.

Quickly and quietly, he changed into his Red Hood outfit, and climbed out the window.

He had left a detector by the window and by the front door so if anyone were to come into the apartment, he would know about it, and he could race home to you.

He also left a note on the bedside cabinet, in case you were to wake up whilst he was gone, but that was unlikely; the paracetamol the doctor had given you would put you into an undisturbed sleep for hours. Jason requested it from your doctor when the burns made it unbearable to sleep at night.

 Red Hood arrived at the top of Wayne Enterprises, and Batman was waiting for him.

“I think I can guess why you wanted to meet me here tonight.” Batman spoke, and he turned his head to the dark city below him. “Uh-hu.” Red Hood replied.

“I won’t let you kill the Joker.”

“I’m not going to, but I can’t let him stay in Arkham. You know he’s escaped many times before.”

“The Joker needs help, and Doctor Bartholomew and the other doctors at Arkham can give him that help.” Batman replied sternly. “They haven’t done a very good job, have they?” Red Hood replied.

Batman didn’t respond to that; he knew Red Hood was right. But he did not know what else he could do to protect the city from the Joker, other than killing him.

“If he gets out of Arkham again, which he will, you and I both know Y/N will be the first person he’ll look for, and I can’t let him do that, because then I will kill him.”

“What do you have in mind?” Batman asked. “Take him out of Arkham and have him transferred to a more secure facility.” Red Hood answered.

“I’m listening.”

“Black Gate, Iron Heights, or Belle Reve. Either one of them has got to take him. Get him out of Gotham. It’ll protect the city, and my Y/N.”

“Hmm…”

“You’re not going to argue against that?” Red Hood asked.

“No.” Batman replied, “I would like him out from Gotham, as much as you. After what he did to Barbara, you and now Y/N and her father. All those civilians he has killed, homes he has destroyed, and doctors he has killed and injured as he escaped from Arkham. I will say Belle Reve is probably the best option for him.”

“But?”

“But Doctor Bartholomew must agree with it, and the Mayor and the head of Belle Reve. I will arrange a meeting between the Mayor, Bartholomew and Belle Reve.”

“I want him gone from this city, Batman.”

Batman nodded. He pulled out his grapple gun and flew into the dark night.

Red Hood returned home, maybe Gotham will finally be safe from the Joker.

[nirvhannahcornell]

Firstly I would like to mention this is NOT the real nirvhannahcornell, this is a burner account made to call out her questionable and horrible actions. The real nirvhannah is known now as “josiebelladonna” and can be found here: @josiebelladonna​. She changed her URL and didn’t save this one so I jumped on the golden opportunity. 

Some of you may be familiar with Hannah, you’ve probably seen her around on your dash, in the tags of your favorites. She’s there posting fanart and fanfiction, it seems all like harmless fun on the surface. But deep below there’s a grim fuckin reality, a reality no one is talking about. We’ve all sat back and watched her hellish meltdowns. Picking fights with her “fans” because they like her post opposed to reblogging them, getting in public squabbles with her friends over petty shit. We’ve sat back and stayed silent, but I’m not staying quiet any longer. I’ve tried sending her asks to explain herself and without fail every time she’s said tumblr fuckin “ate them” so the next best thing was a public callout. Let’s see the matrix glitch this shit.

The perfect place to begin with her fucking crimes have to be how she tries to push the idea that she’s mixed. I’m fully aware it’s fucked up to call someone’s race to attention like this, and I definitely wouldn’t be if she wasn’t completely faking and tossing racial slurs around like her lilywhite ass can claim them. To my knowledge and to the research I’ve done, Hannah isn’t mixed. Her dad and brother are fully white and so is she. She’s tried to claim having “african blood” and “native american blood” (of course she says I*dian but we’ll get into that later), but from what I’ve seen there is no “african blood”, I’m 100% sure she did a test on ancestry.com and saw she was .0000001% african american and decided to call herself mixed. The “native american blood” she claims to have is ALLEGEDLY from her great grandfather, but I’d take that fact with a grain of salt because she seems to be a compulsive liar.

(Note how her racist ass unabashedly says I*jun for everyone to see. But it’s okay guys, she’s 1/64th Native American!)

(Here she is claiming to be mixed race. Notice how she says “I*dian roots” and “African Blood”. That shit busted as fuck like what the fuck does she even…)

(Here’s some more posts claiming to have “black heritage” and then somehow making it about how Joey “talked about her” on a podcast. (I’ll get into that too (: )

This isn’t the first instance of her using racial slurs publicly for you me and god to see. We’re all looking and I wish I couldn’t see. Here’s a few examples. 

(“My I*jun boy” “I*jun orange” I literally cannot make this bullshit up.)

(“My I*dian beauty” “my favorite I*dian'' (she is also grungeandmetalfanfics btw!!))

She claims she can say these things, I guess because she’s .0000000004% Native American! Makes it a-OK! I guess because she has “African Blood” she can say the N-Word then? No? Oh well, she did it anyway! 

(Her argument, I’m guessing, is she can say I*jun because Joey (an actual Native American man) says it. Which makes no fucking sense because shes fucking white she can’t say it.)

If this wasn’t insane enough. As if it could possibly get even more horrible. She is overall just genuinely a bad person. If you ever supported her art with a like, you would know. Because apparently that shit peeves the fuck out of her. Even though you���re showing your support she loses her fucking mind when you don’t reblog anything she’s produced. (I don’t blame you it’s shit anyways) And then tries to guilt all of her followers into reblogging her shit. It’s manipulative and horrible. 

(this didn’t last of course she's too full of herself to stay away.) 

Note how she makes it seem like she was blessing us with her content. Did you know she existed before this? She plagues fandom tags with her shitty fanart and fanfiction thinking we should bow to her and be fucking blessed with her presence. Maybe we should, she claims to have a fond relationship with Chris Cornell!

Oh.. Wait…

(one of the 2 interactions she had with him, both pertaining to fanart she drew. He would do this often, respond to fans and their fanarts. This is nothing special)

(Her dad calling her out on her delusions) 

Don’t let her fool you. Her and Chris Cornell didn’t know each other, they weren’t friends. Chris had no clue who she was beyond the fanart she made for him. She’s literally so deep in this fantasy she’s insane enough to think she could’ve prevented Chris’ suicide. 

(She also believed ben shepherd was in love with her. She sent him a letter and he didn’t respond. Apparently he owed something to her because she opened up to him via letter and, as you would expect a famous person who definitely has someone who goes through their mail for them, he didn’t respond. I don’t know how in the FUCK she ever got the idea that he was in love with her. I don’t know what in the FUCK is wrong with her. She eventually got pissed because she found out he had a kid with his girlfriend? And apparently he was supposed to tell her? She’s fucking delusional look into that if you want, I don’t have enough time or evidence for that one, it’s certainly a lot.) 

A new installment in her delusions is the infamous Jasta Show feat. Joey Belladonna. It’s a 2+ hour long podcast where they mostly talk about the pandemic and what not, current events going on. Allegedly, in this podcast, Joey says Hannah’s name. 

I sat through the entire podcast (Joey says holy cow about 5 fucking times) and timestamped at 106:58 they start talking about Chris Cornell. To which Joey says “oh, we talked about him yesterday because some girl was drawing some stuff- she liked him a lot. and I thought about him too.” Nonspecific. Plain. There’s no fireworks or warmth or whatever the fuck. He mentions that and moves on. I’ve timestamped it for you all, the podcast is free to listen to, you can all listen to it yourself. (The Jasta Show 517 Joey Belladonna) Unless her name is “some girl” there was no name drop. 

(no one gave a shit because it wasn’t that big of a fucking deal “some girl”) 

Don’t let her fool you with her delusions. She also makes it seem like her and Krista (Joey’s wife) are friends when really Krista likes most all posts that are #joeybelladonna on Instagram. They aren’t close, they aren’t buddies or whatever the fuck. 

(Here’s that one shit she keeps talking about raw fucking format or some shit idk it’s a fucking side project Joey started that’s probably not even Joey messaging her they have 140 something followers I don’t even feel like getting into this dumbassery. Fucking clown.)

If you aren’t convinced enough in her insanity. Hannah has literally used Cliff’s accident as a plotpoint in her shitty fanfiction. Yes,that's right. She’s used Cliff Burton’s real life tragic accident as a plotpoint in a fanfiction with Joey and Lars. Not only did she do that, but she shoehorned Joey into the fucking accident. Like they’re all fictional characters. It’s fucking vile and insensitive. 

(The fucking post she linked was the infamous pic of Lars, James and Kirk after the accident)

In conclusion, Hannah is batshit crazy. She’s insane. She wants us to believe she’s mixed because she’s obsessed unhealthily with Joey Belladonna and wanting to look and be like him. She wants us to believe she’s friends with all of these musicians, that they’re in love with her. That they were close. None of this is true. She’s just a lying, rude, self centered, fucking psychotic bitch and if you know her I’d suggest staying away. 

Not even her fucking friend wants to be involved.

[minnuet-archive]

I’m Sorry, Logan

Rating: PG-13

Trigger Warnings: Alcoholism, suicide, abusive family, homophobia (let me know if there are any more i missed!)

Word Count: 3,754

Fan-fiction or Original Work? Original Work

Story Type: Short Story

Notes: I wrote this a while back for a book that was going to be made, but didn’t end up happening. It was about suicide awareness and the different reasons for it. There was to be informative writing about the topic and cause and then a short story. This is the short story. Also, I spent a solid hour or two revamping and editing this for you all today since I couldn’t post much about my soon to be posted book. I hope you enjoy!

I wake up to my alarm blaring in my ears. My eyelids refuse to lift, the world a blurry mess.  I stumble into my uniform, the alarm still blaring.  Eventually, my patience runs out and I shut off the alarm. I snatch my backpack out from the corner of my room before hastily grabbing a granola bar and running to the bus parked outside.

I jump into the bus and walk down the aisle, all of the noise, ranging from random conversation to yelling and fighting, filling my ears and overwhelming my mind. I almost want to put my hands to my ears and drown out the noise, but someone’s bound to take offense. As I sit down in a seat next to the seemingly quietest kids, the horrible stench of what are probably 10-year-old raisins with a generous side of sweaty gym socks permeates my nose. I hate the bus. I decide to try spacing out. 

Arriving at school, I go into the girl’s bathroom and wait until everyone leaves. I look really weird waiting for people to leave, and I don’t care. Actually, that’s not true. I definitely care. 

Once everyone’s gone, I slip out of my catholic school skirt and into far more comfortable slacks. My mother had refused to get me anything but the “girl’s” uniform which consisted of a tight, long skirt and a blouse. 

I hear the bell and run to class, bursting into the classroom and sliding into my seat directly after my name is called. 

“Late.” I  groan and get out my homework. Why does it have to be me?

Vanessa and her friends snicker across the classroom. “Hey look, the plant’s here.”

My ears burned and I clenched my teeth. Those obnoxious jerks. I’m not a plant. “My name’s E-” My eyes widen as I catch myself. “-Ellie.” 

Vanessa gasps dramatically and then says, “It can talk?!”

I don’t respond and give her what she wants, but it takes all of my strength not to. God, how am I so stupid? I don’t care if I’m using the Lord’s name in vain. I already let them know I was asexual! And if I let it slip? “My name’s Elliott.” I can only imagine the crap they’d do and say to me. What would I tell them? “Oh yeah, by the way, I’m nonbinary.” That would totally work. 

I take deep breaths. I look at the teacher and then to the board, and suddenly, zoning becomes much easier. The lunch bell rings after a while and I walk towards the courtyard, finding one of the trees in the corner that no one ever sat by. It’s sad and droopy. I wish I couldn’t relate.

“Hey, Elliott!” I flinch at the noise. He smiles and sits down next to me. 

I relax and say, “Hey, Logan. How was the class?”

“Class was crappy,” I crack a smile and when I do, he adds “as always. I love how you did your hair today. It’s pretty.”

My mouth goes dry and I fidget with my hands, forcing myself to smile. I shove my (sadly, homemade) peanut butter jelly sandwich into my mouth and then spend a ridiculous amount of time trying to swallow enough of it to even be able to chew. 

We talk and smile, though he does most of the talking, and I force myself to listen, because he always has great things to say.

The lunch bell ringing is jarring and sudden enough to make me jump, but that isn’t saying much. I grin at Logan. “ I’ll see you tomorrow, man. Bye!” 

He high fives me and starts walking towards his classroom. I walk towards mine. After Mr. Simon takes role call and I raise my hand and answer a question once, I figure I’m safe and promptly space out for the rest of the day.

The bell rings and right as I’m about to walk out of the door, I heard Mr. Simon say, “Eleanor, may I speak to you?” A collective ‘oooh’ sound comes from what’s remaining of the class, suggesting I’m in trouble, as I walk up to his desk.

“Can I help you, Mr. Simon?” 

“Do you remember the dress code guidelines we went over at the beginning of the year?” 

I start to panic. “Uh, yeah.”

“Then you remember that girls are to wear skirts and a blouse and that boys are to wear a button down and slacks.” 

I mutter that I might remember something like that. “Why can’t I wear pants? I’m not wearing anything completely out of school uniform.”

“Yes, but we have a strict dress code and you, as a girl,” I flinch at the word girl. Of course, I can’t correct him. “are to wear a skirt. If you come to school tomorrow wearing pants, I’ll have you change back into a skirt, confiscate the pants, and then call your parents.” 

I nod my head as if I understand, which I don’t, and then walk out of the classroom. I know he hates me, but I had no clue he would go to these lengths to get me in trouble. What the hell kind of person would go to the lengths of confiscating pants? None of my other teachers cared! He’s just an asshole!

I really don’t want to wear a skirt and that was only the first time I wore pants. On the other hand, I don’t want them to get taken away because I had to save up for months to get them and I really want to avoid having to deal with my parents.

As I walk home, I approach the entrance to the Golden Gate Bridge and smile. It’s so beautiful. Late afternoon fog is quite unusual this time of year and most people don’t like it, but I’m secretly happy about it. 

I love walking along the bridge in the morning because it’s so easy to clear my mind. The wind can make my hair clothes flap wildly in the wind which is annoying, but the feeling of the cold wind can be comforting. The smell of saltwater in the air fills my nose as I approach one end of the bridge.  I start to cross the bridge, right into the fog. It’s peaceful and the moist air feels cool and nice against my skin. 

After around 45 minutes, I come out on the other side of the bridge. 

As I walk, I fantasize about laying down on the couch and not worrying about homework.  Not because I finished it, but because I’m planning on procrastinating. 

I turn down my street and see my house. As I approach it, I realize that my house has been egged. I see a note on the door and run up and grab it. Get out of here, fag. You don’t belong here. 

Vanessa, her boyfriend, and their horrible friends were right about the last part. I don’t belong here. I wish I could leave, but it isn’t exactly possible. I rip up the note and look up at the eggs that are covering my home. 

I don’t want to clean this up… but my parents will ask why it happened if I don’t. Plus, they’ll make me do it anyway. I sigh as I trudge inside to grab a mop and some other cleaning supplies. 

Opening the closet door, I grab everything I think I might need, which is a lot. I’ve never cleaned up eggs, so I’m just guessing. 

I turn back to trudge outside again and start to wipe the door with a random rag that I found. Once I finish cleaning everything that I can reach from the ground, I place all my supplies on the roof overhang, awkwardly climbing onto it. 

I get on my knees shakily and start to clean the roof. Damn, can these kids throw. It takes what seems like years, but is probably just a couple hours to finish cleaning the house. 

Taking a risk, I jump from the overhang. I didn’t break any bones! Yay!  I grab all of the cleaning supplies and shove them back into the closet as I walk to my room. I get changed into some paint-stained jeans and a band t-shirt that my parents begrudgingly bought me for Christmas. 

I walk back out and throw myself on the couch. I log into the only social media my parents let me have and open a chat with one of my best friends,  AchillesIsTheTrueGayIcon, also known as Bentley (or Ben). Sometimes I call him Benjamin just to annoy him.

Me: What’s up, Benjamin?

He responds almost immediately.

Ben: Asshole. But not much. You?

Me: You want to know who the real assholes are? The jerks from school who egged my house.

Ben: Oof. That sucks, dude.

Ben: Hey I gtg do homework. Talk later?

Me: Sure.

I turn off my phone and put it down. I hear my mom pull up so I sit up and take out my school binder. I place my homework from yesterday in front of me so I look like I’ve been doing homework since the second I got home.

As soon as I finish setting up my fake homework station, she walks in. “Hey, mom!” No. Too cheery. Calm down. 

She smiles happily, “Hi, Ellie!” I cringe at my old name. At least she didn’t notice my overly excited greeting. “How was your day?” My little sister, Adia follows her in and then runs to our room. 

I consider telling her that my day hasn’t been great, but decide against it. There are only two outcomes. The first is that she wouldn’t care and tell me to suck it up. The second is that it would just invoke a flurry of questions. Neither sounds particularly fun. “It was good. Yours?”

“It was fine. Busy as always,” I give her a knowing nod and then I see her smile slowly fade. “You didn’t make yourself dinner, did you?”

“No, not yet.” I smile sheepishly and she sighs loudly in annoyance.

“Alright. Dinner will be ready soon.”

I roll my eyes and she scoffs as she walks into the kitchen, tossing her bags onto a chair at the table. I hear Adia’s footsteps approaching before I see her jump onto the couch beside me.

“Hi, Adia. Did you have fun at daycare today?”

”Yeah! I played with Sammy!” 

“That’s fun.” She smiles proudly as if having a friend is something to be proud of, which in my case, is true, but in her case, not so much. She has a lot of friends. 

“I got to see all mommy’s friends, too! They’re so nice!” 

I’m contemplating how untrue that is when I hear my mom start to reheat leftovers from last night. She tosses all of the food on three plates the same way she did her bag. 

Wow. Soon really did mean soon.

My mom presses the power button on the remote and we pretend to watch a sitcom as we shovel food into our faces. Eventually, the episode ends. Too lazy to change the channel, we leave it alone and ignore it.

My mom is seated facing the screen and I watch her chuckle. I turn to the screen and freeze. It's a pride parade. All of a sudden I hear Adia’s excited voice.

“Ooooh! Rainbows!” I look at her and smile a little bit. She doesn’t even know. Sometimes I wish I don’t know what LGBTQ+ means. But that’s not really true.

“Those rainbows are for gay people.” She says gay in disgust as if it’s the worst thing you can be. 

Mom continues, “You don’t want to be gay. Being gay is bad. You’ll go to hell if you’re gay.”

Now she just looked confused. “Why is it bad?”

“Because a man is supposed to marry a woman. That’s how God created us.” Mom says.

I finish eating my food as fast as I can to escape this horrible conversation and then interrupt. “Can I be excused? I’m getting tired.”

Before my mom can respond, my father swings open the front door.

This time, it’s not just me who’s frozen. He’s holding a beer bottle. His tie is loose. The top button of his shirt is unbuttoned and it’s stained.

What makes it most obvious that it’s happened again is his eyes. They’re huge. And not in the caring way.

He smiles goofily and stares at Adia and I. “No hug? No ‘Hi daddy!’ or ‘Thanks for working your ASS off every day to provide for us’?” 

My first instinct is to pull Adia closer to me and step one foot in front of her, which I follow through on. My second instinct is to throw something at him so we can all run.

I hold back. Mom’s too close to dad. She would never be able to run away in time. He could hit her. Hurt her. Even kill her, if he wanted to. She’s not a good person, but she doesn’t deserve that.

“Go. To your rooms. Now.” I turn to my mom in utter surprise.

“But mom-“

“Now.” Her voice is sharp and cold, but filled with fear. The most confusing part is that I know the fear isn’t for herself. It’s for us. 

I grab Adia and make sure she’s safe and locked in her room before running to mine. I press my ear against the door because I might be able to get an idea of what’s happening. I can’t hear anything. 

I slump down and hang my head in my hands. Holy mother of God. What is wrong with my family? Why doesn’t she just kick him out when he’s hungover? Why don’t we leave?

I can't deal with this.

I'm sobbing now. I clench my teeth to trap the noise in my mouth.

Over the course of a few minutes, I draw myself up onto my knees and stand up, walking over to sit down at my desk. I start to scribble words that seem right on a paper. After a minute of writing, I reread it. It's not good enough. I crumple up the piece of paper and throw it in the trash.

I hug my knees tightly, trying not to make any form of sound. My breathing slows to its normal pace as I continue to sit there and I grab another piece of paper. I start to write once again, this time neater.

In the morning, I wake up the same way as yesterday. I put on my pants and even throw on a t-shirt instead of a blouse. I don’t care if Mr. Simon tries to force me to wear a skirt. I’m not taking anyone’s crap on my last day of school.

As I look in the cracked medicine cabinet mirror, all I can think of is my hair. I chew on the inside of my cheek for a minute while I go over all my options. I finally tug open the drawer and grip my father’s razor in my hand. There are lots of those weird plastic protectors that I think make sure you don’t accidentally shave off all your hair. I choose the one labeled number 4 at random and push it onto the top of the razor.

My heart starts to beat faster as I push it gently against my scalp, running it down my head in different places until my entire head is buzz cut. For the first time, I feel alive.

I peek out of the crack in the door and watch my mom walk into the kitchen. I run to my room, grabbing my backpack and binder.

I do this again and again until I’m out of the door. 

I step into the bus, a huge grin slapped on my face. The other kids stare and I don’t even pay any attention to them. For the first time, I don’t care. I hear a kid yell “Get off, queer!” and I resist flipping him off… well, I try to resist flipping him off. 

Taking my time, I walk into the classroom and sit next to Logan. He stares at me, dumbfounded. “What the hell did you do?” he whispers.

“I buzz cut my hair. I don’t even care anymore. I’ll deal with the consequences,” 

Not. 

“I just needed to do it,” I finish.

His face is contorted into a mixture of dumbfoundedness and horror as he slowly shakes his head. “Yeah. Alright. Tell me if you need anything, I guess.” He can’t stop staring at me and I honestly find it kind of funny.

A kid walks up to me sitting at what is most likely his desk. 

“You’re sitting in my seat.”

“Yeah. I know. My seat’s over there. Feel free to take it.” He looks as if he’s about to say something more, but he turns to walk towards my actual seat. 

Logan looks at me. I wonder if he knows something off. That taking some other kid’s seat isn’t something I’d normally do. 

If he notices, he doesn’t mention it. “Anyways, how was your day yesterday?” He laughs and then adds, “Holy crap. That was such a mom question.”

I snort and answer, “Oh my god, you’re right. But it was good. I’m tired as hell, though.”

“No kidding.” I grin at him as the teacher looks at us again. I don’t really pay attention in math. I just talk to Logan. It’s relaxing to not have to care. To not have to worry about the consequences of my actions. 

When we walk to lunch, I start complaining to Logan about how much of the day we have left. 

“Uh, you know that we have an early day, right?”

“Oh! I do now.” He chuckles and smiles. I feel my cheeks warm up slightly at his smile. It’s a beautiful one. He starts to talk about some fandom of his and I try my hardest to pay attention. 

I don’t really know what triggers this, although I have an idea, but I realize something. I’ve never kissed someone. Okay, this needs to change. I feel weird thinking about it, but I know exactly who I want to be my first and last kiss.

He’s about to start another thought, but I interrupt him. I don’t care. “You’re amazing.”

He looks at me as if I said the strangest thing he’s ever heard. “I mean it. You’re always there for me and you talk to me about things we like. I feel I don’t thank you enough for that.”

He still looks confused and a bit weirded out but he just smiles calmly. “Right back at you,” he responds as he fidgets with his hands and looks down at his shoes. I gesture for him to continue and, without hesitation, he does. 

Logan sighs and packs up his lunch as the bell rings. 

“Hey, will you walk home with me? I know you normally hang out here for a while but I want to talk to you.” I know this is a risk. 

Just like before, he doesn’t say anything, but now I’m sure that we both know something’s wrong. “Yeah, of course.”

We grab our stuff and we start walking. He starts walking faster and gets ahead. This is not acceptable. 

I break into a full sprint and he starts to chase me. My breath is short and raspy as I laugh all the air out of my lungs with him. When we reach the bridge, we’re both out of breath. We start panting like dogs on a hot day as we bend over and try to distribute our body weight evenly.

I stand up straight again and look at him. His face is glowing and his brown eyes are big and happy. He runs his hand through his slicked-back (with both gel and sweat) hair and adjusts his glasses. What a dork. 

I know this is the moment. I move closer to him and press my lips against his own, my own brain not having a say in it. 

The salty air blows through my hair and I feel on top of the world. After a couple of seconds, I step away. He looks confused. He wasn't okay with it. Oh, God. What have I done? I'm about to keep running down the bridge when he hugs me.

This time, I'm the unprepared one. After a minute, he lets go and slides his hand into mine. We continue to walk across the bridge. There's nothing we need to say and it feels amazing. 

We don't have to explain ourselves. We can just walk quietly together. And it's not awkward.

My happiness fades away as I realize this is the first and last time I’ll be able to do this. I couldn’t change my mind if I wanted to. I already taped the note to his backpack when we left school. 

Today was the best day of my life, but the rest of my life will be a living hell if I go back home right now. Today was a good day. One in a million.

This has to be the last time. Nothing good can last forever. Nothing can last forever.

We reach the other side. “Goodbye, Logan.” 

He laughs. “You say it like this is the last time I’ll ever see you. I’m going to see you tomorrow.”

I feel my heart shatter a little bit more than it already had but I cover it up with a soft smile. “Yeah. It’s just goodbye for now.” He leans in and kisses my cheek and then twirls around like a ballerina. I choke back a sad laugh.

He starts to walk towards his house, but I just turn towards the water. 

Tears spill silently down my face. I put my hand over my mouth to muffle my sobs. I want to run to Logan and scream his name, but I can’t. This has to be done alone. 

I lift one foot onto the railing and then the other. This is it.

One last tear slips down my face as I whisper raspily, “I’m sorry, Logan.” I know it will be peaceful. A quiet ending. Not that I deserve one, but I guess it’s a favor to myself. I let go of the pole that I had been holding onto.

And then I’m falling. 

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Gone.

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