#and then a thing will happen but i can't talk about that ANYWAY

[woso-dreamzzz]

The King II

Alexia Putellas x Sister!Reader

Patri Guijarro x Putellas!Reader

Summary: Your sister thinks you're hiding something from her

There's something different with you.

Alexia knows that for a fact.

There's something that's changed. There's something that's happened.

Alexia can tell just from the way you've relaxed, the way your posture is more open, the way you're smiling more rather than your usual stern face and eye rolls.

Her own eyes narrow as she watches you lean against a wall with Patri, talking in hushed whispers as Mapi passes by, slapping you on the shoulder with a massive grin on her face.

Gears tick in your sister's head as she watches you throughout training - your smiling, carefree face lit up in delight.

It comes to her in the middle of the night.

There's a romantic comedy playing on the bedroom tv and Olga curled up by her side but Alexia still bolts upright, shattering the soft atmosphere that had been building.

"She slept with a groupie!"

Olga rubs the sleep from her eyes, blinking a few times as she's rudely awoken by Alexia's swift movements. "What?"

"My sister! Oh my god...Olga, she's sleeping with a fan! That's why she's all light and airy at training! Some football groupie is taking advantage of my sister!"

"Ale...what if she's just gotten a girlfriend?"

Alexia gives her a look of disbelief. "Don't be so disgusting. Y/n hasn't got a girlfriend! She can barely talk to girls! No, some groupie is taking advantage of my sister's inexperience!"

"I don't think...You know what? Sure, whatever you say, Ale. Can we finish our film now?"

When Alexia comes into training the next day, you can tell something's different about her.

She's been kind of shifty and awkward...

More awkward than normal that is.

She hovers by you incessantly, looking over your shoulder when you're texting and walking you to your car everyday like she's worried someone's going to jump out of the bushes or something.

You're pretty sure you even saw her car outside of your apartment when you left in the morning but it was already gone by the time Patri came downstairs so you could carpool together to training.

Everything about your sister is getting stranger and stranger through the coming days and you don't know what you could have possibly done to get her to hover like this.

You're not sick. You're not injured and those are the only two reasons she's hovered in the past like that time when you were ten and caught the flu and Alexia camped out on your bedroom floor even though Mama told her she'd get sick too or that time exactly a year later when you'd fallen from the jungle gym at school and broke your arm.

She'd cried so hard in the hospital that the nurses thought she was the one that was injured.

She's hovering a bit like that now though and you subtly pat at your limbs in case she's seeing something you haven't noticed yet.

But there's nothing wrong with you. Nothing that would alarm Alexia anyway and you really don't know why she's staring at you so intently.

You're not even sure she knows how she's look at you right now - wide eyed and unblinking.

Your sister and subtle just don't seem to work in the same sentence.

Least of all in the middle of the night when you open your apartment door to Alexia standing there.

"Ale?" You say, rubbing your eyes to rid the sleep from them," What's...? What's going?"

Alexia takes you in.

You must have been sleeping, hair all messy and the soft Stitch pyjamas Alba got you for Christmas on your body.

"I can't want to come and visit my sister?" Alexia asks.

"At one in the morning? Ale, we have training tomorrow."

"I know," Alexia says, practically barging her way through your door and beelining straight for your bedroom.

Her face falls the moment she gets in though.

"What are you looking for?" You ask, still yawning as you come up behind her," If this is about that jean skirt thing, I didn't take it. Alba's got it. Not me. You know I don't wear that kind of stuff."

Alexia pulls a face as she looks around the room, clearly not finding what she wanted.

"Like, I can call Alba and tell her to give it back," You continue," But I don't know why you need to in the middle of the night so urgently. I mean...Ale? Alexia?"

But your sister is already gone and you wake up the next day ninety percent sure that the whole interaction was some dream hallucination brought on by something dodgy that you'd cooked.

Which is why, here and now, you lay splayed out on your sofa with Patri ordering pizza.

Technically, she lives one floor above you but you've been cohabitating more and more these recent weeks.

She's at home in your apartment and you're at home in hers.

"I was thinking," She says, fingers slowly moving up and down your bare arm," That after this season, we can go away for a bit. Just the two of us."

"The two of us?"

Patri tilts your head up until you can just about feel her lips on yours. "Us. Some sand. Some sea. A lot of sex."

"I like that plan."

You connect your lips with hers and before you know it, you're pressed up in bed together and lazily making out again.

"Another round?" Patri asks, eyes hooded and salacious smirk upon her face.

"I would," You say," But I think the pizza man who has been ringing the doorbell won't be happy to wait any longer."

You pull on your clothes, still buttoning up your shirt when you swing open the door.

You expect the pizza man.

Your mouth hangs open at the sight of your sister there.

Her eyes narrow as she takes in your appearance - your messy sex hair and the hickeys running up your neck.

"I knew it!" She says, barging in like she did last week," You're sleeping with a groupie!"

"I-What?!"

But Alexia isn't listening anymore.

Her eyes zero in on the pile of Patri's clothes.

They start from your sofa but track the path you both took into your bedroom.

Alexia turns to you slowly, eyes going between you and the clothes. "She's still here?"

"Alexia, wait. It's not-"

Alexia's slams your bedroom door open as you scramble after her.

Your girlfriend sits up in your bed, covers pressed against her chest as she awkwardly smiles at your sister.

"Hey, Ale..."

You clear your throat and Alexia's eyes immediately rest on you - eyes wide in shock.

"So..." You say," At least Patri's not a groupie?"

[just-sg]

"If I ever do anything to upset you, please just let me know! I can't fix what I don't realize is happening!"

"^w^ Oh of course! I'm sure it won't be any trouble though!"

[...]

":/ Hey so everyone's been talking and we agree you're really insufferable and we don't want you around anymore. Here's a long list of things we've never mentioned having a problem with until right now. Anyway goodbye forever."

"Cool so this is literally exactly the kind of thing I was talking about but thanks for being jackasses incapable of communicating literally at all. 👍"

Also always fun:

"I shouldn't have to explain to you what I found rude, you should know." Cool. Even if it was true that I should, I don't know! So that "should" isn't really irrelevant, is it. Also have you considered that your experiences are not universal actually and what some people consider friendly is deeply offensive to others and vice versa and that expecting everyone to read your mind about your own personal culture and experiences and preferences helps literally no one?

"Maybe you should actually think about what you say." Funny story, I overthink everything at all times. I constantly delete over half of what I type and rewrite the rest numerous times to try to be as gentle as possible while still conveying my own feelings even a tiny bit and apparently even that's too much for people. I go non-verbal under stress in part because I'm terrified of saying anything wrong; unlike typing, I only get one chance to say it, most people won't let you say "no, that's not what I meant." Clearly anything you say mid-meltdown is eternally binding and the truest reflection of everything about you.

And many more.

Every one of these has happened numerous times. But you know. Autistics are bad at communication. For... -checks notes-... wanting it to be clear, direct, and specific. Idk man I feel like maybe being allergic to just speaking openly even when directly requested isn't exactly the pinnacle of communication skill either but who knows.

a bottom-tier autistic experience is being told throughout your entire childhood that you are just an overthinker when it comes to social situations and later finding out that your friends did, in fact, hate being around you and tried to communicate that through weird little hints

[lavenderprose]

At some point, for some reason, Rook had misinterpreted the term 'letters'.

Perhaps it was because Bellara had said it so breathlessly--though Bellara says lots of things breathlessly, given she speaks at about the speed of magic itself. Perhaps it was the smile she'd used when she said 'the Professor'. But Bellara smiles most of the time. In the end it doesn't matter how it happened. The result was the same: Rook heard Bellara talk about these letters, this necromancer she was writing to, and figured they were passing love letters. Odd, very lingo-heavy love letters that contained a lot of side conversation about magical artifacts and the stability of the Veil, but love letters nonetheless.

Rook meets Emmrich and hears him call Bellara 'dear' and knows it must be true. Rook also meets Emmrich and wants to climb him like a tree, but she's always been into that kind of academic, willowy, never-met-the-sun kind of look. Necromancers. Rook's always been into necromancers. She is one. It's pretty normal.

"You must be excited to finally meet him in person," Rook says to Bellara while they're following Emmrich through the Shrouded Halls. Emmrich extols the wonder of life and death in between completely demolishing Venatori in a way that feels bone-shatteringly powerful.

"Oh yeah," Bellara says, and grins. "Arlathan is pretty far from Nevarra, so I didn't think we'd ever actually meet, but it's pretty cool that we did! Professor Emmrich is really knowledgeable, not just about the Fade, but music and art and--"

"Hmm neat!" Rook says, instead of Alright girl keep it in your pants because she actually really likes Bellara and she can't blame her. Emmrich Volkarin is six-foot-three, hazel-eyed and has a voice like candlelit red wine. He'd be a dream come true for any young mage with a little too much to say and a few too many nights alone in their recent past.

Of which there are two in the room.

Anyway.

It's not a big deal. The others don't really seem fussed over the fact that Bellara has brought her sneaky link into the fold and Emmrich is bonkers capable, so it doesn't really matter whether or not he's sourced from some horny letters. He also comes highly recommended from the Mourn Watch, and that's enough for Rook.

They keep things pretty subtle too. Rook never sees them kiss or even really touch, and Bellara seems too busy with the archive spirit to do much other than tinker with it outside of missions. Emmrich always seems to have something to be doing as well. If anything, he seems to spend more time with Rook than Bellara--and this is the source of the issue.

The spark of attraction in the Necropolis grows to nothing short of a blazing inferno. Emmrich invites Rook to the Memorial Gardens, performs the rituals with her, calls her recitation of the rites masterful. He takes her arm in the crook of his own as they walk the paths. He finds her in the kitchen in the evenings and sits next to her, legs crossed in that neat and proper way, and she sits there and lets the heat of his thigh burn into hers until she has to get up and go find something to occupy her hands. He does everything short of lay his jacket over puddles for her like some prince in a storybook--though even that, she wouldn't put past him. She sees him staring at her during a soaking downpour in Minrathous one time, but it's always raining in Minrathous.

Jealousy is an insidious emotion that the Mourn Watch warns against specifically. It will make a monster of the most benevolent, if it takes hold. Rook struggles not to let it. This gets harder and harder, the more time she spends in Emmrich's company and the more he seeks her out. He'll say, "I'm so pleased to have a fellow Watcher to talk to, Rook," and she'll smile and pretend she isn't actively resisting the urge to stare at his lips. He'll say, "I am continually impressed by your keen skills of observation, my dear" and she'll only be capable of nodding because she's trying to clear a daydream from her head. Something about him and one of the geothermal underground pools in the Necropolis and a mysteriously disappearing set of clothing. He'll say, "I find myself continually waiting for the next time we'll have one of our chats, Rook--they're becoming something I find great comfort in," and Rook won't even hear what he's saying, because she's trying so hard to shove him, the concept of him, into a little box in her head labeled Bellara's--Do Not Touch.

It gets a little ridiculous. She stops taking them on missions together, because the sound of them chattering on about Fade harmonics behind her makes her want to absolutely chew glass. On the off chance she sees one of them come out of the other's room, which does not happen very often at all but has, on a handful of occasions, she'll turn herself around and sit herself down on Solas' stupid fuck-ugly green meditation couch until she feels a little less like her head is going to pop off. One time, she falls asleep while doing this and has to deal with a particularly weird conversation with Solas where she's too keyed up to do much more than grunt along to his typical long-winded pontification and he ends the conversation with something along the lines of, "Perhaps you should reexamine some details of your situation that you have taken as fact. You may find them not so."

"Could you just say something that's not buried under five layers of innuendo," Rook thinks, and unfortunately also says out loud, because she's not actually allowed to think just in her head in these Solas-dreams. He scowls at her and rolls his eyes. They're both doing the Fade-space equivalent of blowing raspberries at each other by the time she wakes up.

It all comes to a head in Arlathan, because they've camped with the Veil Jumpers for the night and Rook needs to ask Bellara a question. She thinks nothing of whipping open the flap to Bellara's tent, because Bellara is almost always awake until the stars have been overhead for hours and Emmrich--who was obliged to come along, just this once, because they're in Arlathan specifically for haunting-related reasons--is visible across the camp, wiggling carrots through the bars of Gus the Nug's cage. There is a small, tender smile on his face as he listens to the nug snort and whuffle. Rook suddenly remembers the story about the pig he used to hug as a kid, and then her heart jumps a little, and--

Well, anyway, there shouldn't be a reason not to let herself into Bellara's tent.

There is, in fact, a reason not to let herself into Bellara's tent.

That reason is named Irelin, whose body Rook now knows about in much more expansive detail than she did a few minutes ago. Bellara's too, though most of that was covered by--well, by Irelin.

"Maker!" they all three scream in unison, and Rook all but sommersaults back out of the tent.

"Sorry," she yells through the flap. "Sor--sorry, I didn't--"

"It's fiiine," Bellara yells back. Her head pokes through after a minute. Her hair is down and disappears somewhere back inside the tent. She looks like an almost completely different person with it framing her face like that. "Hey, um--you could, like...knock next time? I mean, I know you can't really knock on a tent--"

"Everything alright over here?" Emmrich has appeared, and Rook's tongue seems to grow three sizes in her mouth.

Oh shit! is all her brain will supply, so she doesn't really respond. She thinks she's willing enough to respect Girl Code, such as it is, that she won't tell Emmrich about the whole Irelin thing. Because maybe that's how their relationship works, or maybe Emmrich already knows, or maybe it's none of her business--

Or maybe something really weird is happening, because Bellara looks at Emmrich and her expression does nothing but get a little more annoyed, and she sighs, "It's fine. No worries, Professor. Just, could you guys--y'know, privacy?"

Then Irelin makes a noise from inside the tent, and it's pretty clear at that point what's just happened, but Emmrich just blushes a little and says, "Ah," and then wraps his hand around Rook's arm and leads her away, back towards the cage with Gus.

"Okay," Rook says, as Gus sniffs her boot on the off chance it contains carrots. "That was weird."

"I fear there are bound to be clashes when multiple cultures blend, my dear," Emmrich tells her, a low murmur directly into her ear. "We in Nevarra, especially amongst the Mourn Watch, are slightly more--shall we say, open? Don't take it personally that Bellara withheld the information of her liaison with Irelin. I don't think it was done maliciously."

"No, I mean--why aren't you--upset?"

Emmrich's brows furrow. "Whyever would I be upset? I'm hardly a prude, Rook. These are difficult times, and any small piece of comfort one can find should be readily taken. A tent in the middle of a busy camp is an...interesting location, but I understand our dear Bellara has history with Irelin, and should the object of my affections be willing--"

"No, no, I mean--you're not--are you okay with this? You and Bellara have some kind of..." Rook scrambles about for an accurate word. "Agreement? About this kind of stuff?"

Emmrich's eyebrows do an odd, fluttery sort of thing that reminds Rook of a puppet she once saw being manipulated by a group of playful wisps. Sort of like his face is trying to show half a dozen emotions at once.

"Why on earth would Bellara and I have ever spoken about her sex life," he says flatly, and far more bluntly than Rook is used to him being. Heat floods her body as she realizes that she has, somewhere along the way, wildly misunderstood something.

"I," says Rook, "have made a mistake."

"Rook," he says, with a voice like he's trying to diffuse a spell primed to explode, "Darling. If you thought Bellara and I were involved, would you mind enlightening me exactly as to...what you think my intentions were when I took you to the Memorial Gardens."

Rook wonders if Gus the nug could be persuaded to eat her whole.

"Enrichment?" she mutters.

"Enrichment," Emmrich sighs under his breath.

There is a long, gravid beat of silence.

"That clearing we passed earlier," Rook mumbles under her breath, once the world is done tilting on its axis. "Looked enriching."

"Quite," Emmrich says promptly. He grabs her by the hand and only grins a little when she releases a frantic, giddy giggle as he pulls her away from the camp.

[starzgaze]

📖₊✧ 🖋 “ TANGA TANGAHAN “—s.jw/filo!reader

shit ass snippet: "gago?? who did you try copying off again?" ".... the exchange student" "BUANG KA B—"

your friend let out an exasperated sigh as you gave her a sheepish smile, scratching your cheek awkwardly. cheating wasn't something you do usually but you were pretty desperate to pass the math exam but 'luckily' you sat beside the korean exchange student! you heard koreans are generally smarter in math so you thought you were passing the exam until you saw his paper and realized a few copied answers in that... he was also copying off you.

a/n: special thanks to park for helping me in this idk if I added the cleaned up version but I gave up reading this

oh my god. you didn't study for the exam today.

with you clutching the straps of your bag, you anxiously entered the classroom and saw many students cramming for today's exam. some of your friends were scribbling on the board practice equations while the other kids reviewed their papers over and over again and the remaining half just accepted faith and slept until the exam started.

you walked over to your desk and placed your bag beneath it, sighing in defeat as you probably accepted the fact you're gonna see a line of 7 in your card for the quarter. maybe playing games the whole night instead of studying the bazillion ways of solving for x was extremely stupid on your part.

but you were hopeful that perhaps your stock knowledge will save you. (for the sake of your grades and sanity to avoid a beating)

"[y.name]!!!"

a voice called over for you suddenly which prompted you to turn to the owner of the voice. it was one of your friends who looked extremely drained. your eyes widened at the sight.

"jesus christ. the hell happened with you? napaka haggard mo 'teh" you joked as you pointed out your friend's unbrushed hair and disheveled appearance. She pouted before she softly punched your shoulder with the rolled up paper she was holding.

"oh zip your mouth! anyway, did you study for the math exam?"

your friend went for the throat as she didn't bothered starting up small talk, time was ticking, every second that passed means the start of the exam will begin shortly soon.

the question made you pause a bit before you sloooowly moving your head over to your friend as an awkward smile forced it's way on to your face.

"haha... no"

her dropped as she blankly blinked at you for a good 2 minutes before shaking her head vigorously and shoving her face into her hands, groaning probably in despair.

"GOODDD.. who am i supposed to ask now how to solve these things?! or even cheat off..."

you shrugged as you looked over to your seatmate,

the exchange student.

you can't really tell but he seemed pretty confident about the exam with how 'relaxed' he is, maybe your friend can ask him instead of you.

your friend followed your gaze that lingered on the exchange student which made her look over her shoulder for a moment before smirking. completely misunderstanding the situation.

"hala, may crush ka?"

"ha? gago, anong crush? I'm just thinking that you should probably ask jinwoo over there instead of me about the math equations" you retorted back which was only received with your friend pouting as she playfully wiggled her brows, occasionally nudging you along with it. a sigh left your lips.

before your friend could further tease you about it, your proctor entered the room, signalling the whole room to pack their reviewers in their bags and bring it to the front of the classroom.

you sat on your chair, fiddling with your pen as your proctor started to explain the flow of the exam. you didn't pay attention to the instructor since you probably memorized whatever the hell he was about to say but your eyes wandered over to your seatmate once again, sung jinwoo.

he was one of the korean exchange students from your school's exchange program, his luck is horrible for how the exchange program timed perfectly with the quarterly exams so now he has to go through this too.

but anyway, the more you drown out your proctor's voice out of your mind you can't help but stare longer at jinwoo. it's not the fact that maybe he's a bit handsome and is basically eye candy to you but it was the fact you could see an extremely tiny wisp of black off him that is almost reminiscent to a shadow. that sounds crazy to you.

jinwoo immediately notices this though which ended with him returning the gaze, making you jolt in your seat as you swiftly looked away. acting like you didn't stared him down moments ago.

oh man if you could only see the small smirk on his face.

　　　　　✎ᝰ

oh my god². it's been 43 questions in the exam and you still haven't confidently answered anything, more than 40 questions that you answered swiftly was basically you playing eenie miney moe or pulling formulas out of your asshole as you prayed to your patron saint of your school and Jesus that the number you guesstimated was correct. you're at the point that you're counting the 'probably' correct answered questions to guess your score, you were aiming for passing barely.

but you knew you couldn't rely on that, you knew that out of all people that if you don't answer something here that isn't you half assing it you're gonna repeat a subject definitely from how bad this exam is gonna put a dent in your grade.

until an idea crossed your mind!

a very academically horrible idea but it was better than nothing.

you ever so slightly moved your head to the side, glancing over to jinwoo and noticing that he was almost done (isn't he going way too fast?!). a random, possibly, stereotypical fact popped in your head that how most koreans are smarter in math which justified the reason why jinwoo finished his exam so fast in math, maybe it's the fact he was korean.

craning over your neck to his desk a bit more, carefully glancing over to your proctor and your classmates making sure that no one was looking. you squinted your eyes as you tried to make sense of his answers and copied it down on your own paper.

a few minutes of you repeating this until you answered the last question, placing your pen down as you huffed quietly in victory. you were pretty confident ok whatever you wrote was accurate on whatever the hell your seatmate wrote but it was better than leaving it blank.

you glanced over to the clock and noticed you had a few more minutes to spare so you checked through your previous answers and even tried comparing it from your seatmate who was now seemingly muttering to himself while swatting his shoulder like he was dusting off something. the hell?....

you ignored it, chalking it up to the old idea that geniuses were weirdoes in their own ways that's why they were smart in the first place. you wouldn't understand because you weren't one.

anyway the moment you started comparing your answers to his paper you thought that maybe most of your answers were correct! until you took more time reading in between the lines and comoared again for good measure. then the realization hits you.

your answer here was an a. his was an a also

it's also d. here and his was a d too..?

the more you skimmed through, even the previous calculations that you made up before you bothered copying off him was also matching the ones on his paper. what the hell was going on?!

...

wait, was he also copying off yo—

RRRRRRIIIINNGG!!!!!!!!!

the timer went off as the realization finally dawned on you, you need to change your answers asap or else you'll be called after class along with this dumbass too!

"okay class, hand over your paper to the person in front of you and then to the people in front please pass it to the middle" your instructor instructed as you panicked. you're not even sure if you can even do last minute changes as you can hear the person behind you wagging their paper behind you was starting to get annoyed that you weren't grabbing their paper.

"hoy! [y.name] kunin mo naman ang papel ko. tapos na ang exam bala, wag mo nailisan ang mga sabat mo" your classmate complained as you groaned in frustration and took the papers behind you and stacked it properly again then passing it to the person in front of you, internally crying over the fact that you just copied off someone who was also copying off you

'why the hell was he even copying off me?! isn't he supposed to be more smarter because he's korea— oh wait that's stereotypical... wait... oh my god. I'm so stupid. why did i assume he was good in math'

you dropped your head on to the desk, a pretty loud thud emanating from your area which earned a few stares from your classmates and your seatmate.

　　　　　✎ᝰ

jinwoo was happy that through his track and field practices and astounding performance in athletics that he managed to snag a spot in the exchange student program, especially to the country where [y.name] was originally in.

in a previous time, he could recall that [y.name] studied in their homecountry for highschool and college but went to korea for higher education. it was one of the things he learned about them early in their relationship in his past life but that was in the past. In the new one, jinwoo was way too impatient to wait for his 20s to meet [y.name]. he needed to see them asap.

so this exchange program was a great opportunity! but the timing was awful. the moment he got in the school in the new country, he unfortunately couldn't get [y.name] as his host home but another family but it was fine since he somehow got in the same section as them. (even if it wasn't, he could just easily ask his advisor if he could switch sections). there was another unfortunate factor though, it was exams season in the school here.

academics wasn't his strongest factor let's say... jinwoo would rather be the brawn than the brains if he had the choice when it comes to academics, which was mainly why he got a scholarship through track and field in his school. thinking is something he would rather do later than now.

which is why when people around him in the new school he stepped foot in started to whisper that he was probably smart, especially in math, baffled him a bit. what gave them the impression that he was remotely any good in mathematics or science? was it because he's an exchange student or was it because of the cool aura he exudes? he couldn't understand it but he can't seem to prove the rumors wrong whenever he recites pretty well in the classes.

well it doesn't matter because the luck he has to land in [y.name] section was worth it because maybe in their eyes, they see him smart.

[iamnmbr3]

really love that after escaping from manor, harry thinks that he "left behind" people there...who are these 'people'? who you left behind harry?bellatrix?or lucius?greyback?or maybe narcissa, right? Not draco, the guy you despise sooo much that you'e worried he might die there, right? RIGHT?

Every time I see you in my askbox I know you're gonna coming with something great to say. And hahaha. I agree that line is incredibly telling. Clearly it's evidence that Harry care deeply for Bellatrix and has decided to be the bigger person and move on from the whole murdering Sirius thing...lol jk. Yeah. There is literally only one person in that room that Harry could be referring to here.

And remember, he thinks about those he left behind at the Manor in the context of sensing through his connection with Voldemort that they are being brutally punished.

Draco didn't reveal Harry's identity. Draco let Harry take his wand. Draco didn't report it when he saw that Harry and the others had untied their bonds while locked in the basement cells. Draco has been having doubts about being a Death Eater and doesn't want to be there. If Voldemort realizes any of this he will surely kill Draco - probably not quickly - and even if he doesn't, he might do that anyway.

Harry knows that as a result of his escape Draco is going to be hurt, and quite possibly killed. In this scene, he knows it's happening right now at this very moment and he can't do anything about it or even let himself dwell on it. But part of him wishes that he could, that he could back and save Draco or that he had brought him along. Maybe he doesn't fully acknowledge that, even to himself, but it leaks through in how he thinks about events. JKR didn't mean it that way, but that's she wrote.

I've talk about this before but it's really notable how the first time Harry successfully blocks Voldemort out is in this moment. I read as this being evidence of that fact that he is so motivated to not see Draco being tortured or killed that for the first time EVER he manages to fully close his mind. Also, the Manor sequence is a turning point for Harry. It's when he becomes fully committed to ending the war, and ending it now, to destroying the Horcruxes whatever the cost and focusing solely on that mission on not on the Hallows or on wondering about Dumbledore's true motives. Seeing Draco, and knowing that the price of his escape may well be Draco's life seems to shift something in him.

Also shoutout to the fact that when escaping the Manor the last thing he does is look back at where Draco is despite all the chaos going on:

[miyuka1709]

Good afternoon!...

Anyway here's a cute little Cold, and some pen-tasting.

Pretty great stuff.

(There's a pretty long rant ahead about an STP swap AU!!!!!)

I think it's so interesting that there are 5 very different Princesses in the Stranger; I heard from somewhere that their names are The Hopeless, The Sinister, The Snide, The Kind, The Blank.

I imagine it'd be fun if a swap AU implemented those Princesses as "bases" based on the first thing the player says upon being told about the cabin and the Monster.

I mean Voice of the Sinister could be like Nightmare and Tower. She might appear when you first say the "Sweet I've always wanted to off a monarch!" Dialogue in the base game? It'd just be "I've always wanted to off someone!" Instead maybe cause TLQ isn't a monarch and it's definitely pretty sinister to just outright say that.

Voice of the Snide would be like Prisoner/Sharp Princess. Could be a "Why would I listen to you?" "Have you ever considered that I'd be okay with the world ending?" defiant type voice.

Voice of the Kind is obviously Damsel/Soft Princess. "What if he's going to end the world BECAUSE he's locked up?" Or smtg like that, morality talk and whatnot.

Voice of the Hopeless could just be.. Broken? But a girl, I guess? I'm not sure what she'd say but it's something that Broken would say - like "What's the point of doing this? The world will end one day anyway."

They sound so cool and I'm sure anyone can work with that, but Blank Princess? That could probably happen if we outright try to leave like in Stranger so the Monster can't perceive us.

But what would she say? Would she act or speak like Cold? She'd generally have minimal opinions, wouldn't she? Would having her even change anything? Would she be completely pliable or changeable? Would she be like Opportunist, but sincerely ever-changing and not just for self reason? Is she just a shell and says things just for the sake of it like Deconstructed Damsel? Would she just follow along the Princess as the main character and mirror her actions? Would she be as moldable as we (Princess) are to TLQ?

Again, I think the "Base Princesses" might work really funny if they were a byproduct of SOLELY your first ever choice in the narrative, and it sticks, and they act like Voice of the Hero who accompanies you throughout the entire run.

So instead of having different TLQs, you get different You's at the final Heart scene? That's a pretty funny concept to think about - but it sounds like it'd be painful to work with in a game because you'd have to make all the routes compatible with each of the 5 Base Princesses and make it not feel too clunky or too different.

I'd honestly want to write or plan a whole thing with this kind of story, the only problem is I don't know how to make the Narrator want to kill TLQ.

The Echo's literal purpose is to get rid of change and death with it while leaving a sliver of TSM in TLQ so the world could still move along and people could have lives that aren't completely stagnant and devoid of growth and change.

Would this swap-Echo's job be to protect TLQ and tell the Princess/Player to save him? Or would His view change entirely so He'd oppose TLQ by saying"The world will be doomed to eternal stagnancy"?, instead of death, would he be afraid of the constant and stillness? Why would he want to rid the world of it specifically? I'm really not sure.

Just a little idea I had, y'know!.. phew, I didn't mean to write a whole thing but yeahh..

[im4rmy]

bf!jaemin x fem!reader (idol AU) II

IMAGINE: you call him crying after a tough shift.

tw: mention of death and grief⚠️

• you step out of the hospital with heavy steps, you can barely breathe while you reach your car parked not too far. you unlock it and sit inside at lightning speed, throwing your bag in the back without care.

• today was horrible, the worst day of your life, for real. and all you wanna do now is... crying your heart out. and so you do. you cling to the steering wheel and sob for like 10 minutes before you decide that you'll not be able to drive home in this state.

• you take your phone and scroll down your contact list and... you linger on a specific name. would it be weird to call him? you two are kinda official now... kinda. you slept together, you had tone of dates but you never even went to his house or viceversa.

• you know he would be perfect about it, of course he would. but still- he didn't see you barefaced, ever, and now you are still in your uniform, your tired face wet from your tears. fuck it, you desperately need to go away from this place.

• 📞"hello?" "h-hi... mhh am i b-bothering you? *sniff*" "not at all, i'm at the gym- is everything okay?"

• you try to answer but everything that comes out from your mouth is a pathetic sob.

• jaemin stills in front of the gym bench where jeno's already exercising, with a concerned expression and his phone pressed to his ear.

• 📞"are you crying?"

• you just sniff a few times in response, still unable to talk.

• 📞"what's wrong? are you okay?"

• he's now packing his things, ready to leave and getting his gym buddy's attention.

• 📞"i- just, i can't drive. would you- can you come pick me up?" "of course honey. where are you?" "i'm still at t-the hospital" "wait for me okay?" "mhmh"

• you hang up immediately and resume your crying session against the steering wheel.

• jeno looked at jaemin confused. "what's happening?" "i need to take home y/n from work" "why?" "i don't know, she's- not feeling well i guess. she was crying"

• "her job must be so hard, i could never" "i agree but- she doesn't look stressed or tired, never. i don't know if she just masks it very well... anyway, gotta go"

• when you spot the black and expensive car pulling up in front of the staff entrance of the hospital, you stand up from your seat on the concrete and wipe your cheeks for the hundredth time. you walk to the car door and go in trying to regain some composure.

• "hi" "hi"

• jaemin doesn't say or ask anything before starting to drive away. you try to speak a few times but you REALLY don't know what to say, plus you're sure you would end up crying.

• "are you hungry?" you just nod and jaemin mumbles a soft 'okay'

• you just focus on your breathing keeping your gaze out of the car window, until you notice where you are: a drive-through. jaemin stops his car next to the menu stand and looks at you.

• "what do you want?" you take a deep breath. "the burger menu, large. and a chocolate donut... please"

• jaemin lets out a little chuckle before pressing the mic button to order. then he wears a random black face mask found somewhere and drives till the payment spot.

• in ten minutes, you're parked in a super-market parking lot, deserted. it would've been creepy if you weren't with the sweetest man you ever met, biting on the biggest (and free!) burger you ever had in your life, watching variety show on his phone on youtube.

• giggles and big ass laughs escape both your mouths while you finish the cheapest meal you had with him, used to take you to fancy restaurant and hotels.

• but when the episode is over and your burger as well, you know it's time to give him an explanation, even if he wouldn't dare to ask why were you in such a state.

• "thank you... for coming, i mean. and for the food, of course" he just smiles looking at you sweetly "are you feeling any better?"

• you nod and sigh, facing in front of you. "today- um, a-a child... he came in almost two months ago" you feel tears approaching again, "he died today. we couldn't save him" you press your hands on your eyes and let out a sob.

• "oh y/n, i'm so sorry" you feel his warm arms around you in no time, letting yourself cry in his embrace while you grieve the loss of your patient.

• "he was eight and the sweetest human being on earth... why- how can something like this happen?" "i really don't know, i'm so sorry baby"

• he keeps on holding you untill you calm down, giving you some kisses here and there. "what can i do for you?"

• you sniff and think about it: you don't want him to leave. "can you stay with me?" "of course princess. what if we go at mine, i can prepare you a warm bath, you can wear my clothes and we can cuddle on my king-sized bed. what do you think?" "i love it"

• and that's how you understood that na jaemin was one to keep close. and you met his cats that night!

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masterlist

Taglist: @carelessshootanonymous

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[alarajrogers]

Commiserate with them. He's a liar, but the news media did their best to hide it, because if it bleeds it leads and they knew Trump would cause so much chaos and suffering, it'd be great for the news. It's not like the old days when reputable journalists ran the news; nowadays it's all giant billionnaire corporations, and all they care about is money, and screwing over little guys like us to make a buck. Honestly, you wanna know what's really going on, read foreign news media like the Guardian and stuff like that; they have laws that kept the billionnaires from buying all the news media over there, so they're still telling the truth at least some of the time. You're from Venezuela? Great! I'll bet you Mexican news sources are willing to tell you the truth about our leaders, though they'll lie to protect their own. As a native Spanish speaker, you have access to a world of news media I can't read. It's ok if you don't trust Venezuelan media, there's the entire continent of South America, plus Spain itself, and you can read any of it you want. It's all on line, just google it in Spanish. I'm so sorry this is happening to you. In today's world you can't blindly trust anyone; you have to do your own research, but there's so many crackpots and conspiracy theorists out there who are just making shit up to make a buck. I mean, did you know his ex-wife -- the dead one, the one he buried on his golf course -- wrote a memoir where he beat and raped her because she gave him a referral to a doctor for a hair implant and the doctor messed it up? I mean, she said afterward, no, she didn't mean to imply that he treated her badly... but she put it in there in black and white. I think she was scared of him. I mean, she ended up dead and he wouldn't allow an autopsy, and she got buried on his golf course. I'm from New York; we've been seeing this guy's shenanigans since the 80's, so I know, I wouldn't put anything past him. You know he was a really good friend of Jeffrey Epstein, right? Who died in prison the last time he was president? Yeah, obviously there's no proof of anything, but you gotta wonder. Anyway, you take care of yourself. It's a damn shame politicians get away with lying like that. I know we always joke that politicians lie, but this guy. Wow.

This kind of thing. You don't blame them for being taken in. You blame Trump for being a liar and the news media for collaborating. You don't mention Democrats and Republicans, you talk about "politicians", because on both sides of the aisle most people agree, politicians suck. You talk about billionnaires propping him up because they want to steal our money to make themselves richer. You express sympathy for them. Maybe, depending on your audience, drop some of the salacious conspiracy-like hints about Trump's behavior.

Meet them where they are, and offer them friendship and sympathy. You're a lot more likely to get them on our side that way.

[crimeronan]

im a teenager with seasonal depression and a shitty fatigue causing disability and adhd currently still in highschool and: the way you talk abt minors right to autonomy, and How School Sucks, and everything related to that is. The Most Soothing Shit i hear all day. like. reading some of your posts abt how Good graduating early and being a Problem Child was for you was So Damn Calming.

most ppl immediately go to sooth me with the "but you Are smart, and you just need to try harder!! your life isnt entirely ruined today :) just go to school tomorrow and be Good and Learn and you'll be fineee. you aren't one of the bad ones, Dont Worry :))" and that makes me. invent new types of panic attacks and neuroses on the spot.

but having an Actual Adult whos like "no. school can infact be the fucking Torture pit for some people and it is So Utterly Fucked Up how Anyone can make you do Anything, actually. you arent a bad or damaged person this is Normal and your value isnt dependant on Schooliness. do whatever makes you least likely to kill yourself. you dont owe them shit, especially not being Good. be a problem, take up space."

is. genuinely the nicest thing Ever. to me. like. Makes me Kinda Want To Cry nicest thing ever. anyway yea. thanks for that.

ahh, this is lovely to hear. but i'm so sorry you're going through this.

i remember being in high school in 2011 when the gay teen suicides were national headlines, and everyone had Opinions on it, and the "it gets better" trend was everywhere, and -- while those videos did do a lot of good!! -- they just kind of made me more furious?? because i was so mad at all these adults basically saying, "yeah, high school is an institutional pit of death and horror, but eventually you'll be 18!!" i was like hey. Help Us Now.

it was actually the song "make it stop" by rise against that gave me any peace or sense of belonging, because. here was a band i loved full of straight dudes (as far as i know, anyway) who were just fucking MAD. they were righteously angry!! they gave a fuck what was happening!! and lyrics like "the gatherings hold candles but not their tongues" rang SO true to me, as someone who was dealing with endless "oh, so sad he died, but there was something wrong with his brain" discourse.

the memory of that has made it REALLY easy to hold onto my anger in adulthood. because sometimes kids don't need "it'll be fine, just hang on :)" they need "you're gonna be okay, but FUCK ALL THIS."

it's truly fucking Unconscionable to do what we do even to neurotypical, able-bodied teens with good home lives. i want to say i can't imagine being a teen with chronic fatigue and ADHD going to classes eight hours a day.... but i can!! i did that!! and almost died!!

i honestly think the lack of autonomy in the US school system is traumatic For Everybody. different levels of trauma, for sure! but i think that's part of why adults seem so disconnected from our teen years and can't remember the realities of being an adolescent. we overwrite the horrors.

the good news is: it Does get better after school. astonishingly so.

in the meantime: you don't owe anyone Anything. literally your only job right now is to survive. do whatever you need to do to not kill yourself or end up in jail. don't worry about anything else. i promise it Does Not Matter As Much As People Say It Does.

[thegeminisage]

lucanis's pet snake

lucanis mentions in veilguard that he has a pet snake, but he doesn't give the snake a name. however, i know in my heart that the snake's name is illario. please come on a journey with me to consider a scenario:

lucanis wants a pet but crows don't do that sort of thing but he can have a pet if it's a snake because that's not a pet that's a little venom machine :) it's even kind of like a tiny wyvern if you squint right :) 

and caterina is like ok you can have a snake 👍 but don't like love it or get attached to it or anything. absolutely do Not give it a name do not embarrass this house

and lucanis is like ok yes i can do this and of course decides he Must name the snake. he will die on the spot if the snake is not named, by him

but it can't be like a Real Name because what if he says it loud and then gets caught Loving The Snake (i am picturing lucanis in his teens which is fine some snakes can live up like 30-60 years)

so he names the snake illario because if he accidentally refers to the snake by its name he can just pretend he's talking about human illario

(the unforseen outcome of this is that he is now in danger of calling his cousin human illario, which is a really normal thing to call your cousin around people who don't know what you named your snake)

snake illario (snillario if you will) is not like human illario. snake illario doesn't complain about lucanis's dossiers. snake illario is happy to do his part as a crow (making venom for lucanis's poisons). snake illario doesn't care that lucanis never says no to caterina. snake illario would never make fun of lucanis for being a virgin. human illario may have done this a time or two. or ten. or twenty.

it is so crucial to me that human illario Hates This Snake. he's like, why would you own a pet snake. what kind of freaky shit is happening in that snake enclosure oh EW andraste's holy cabbage cousin is that a fucking MOUSE (wigmaker job illario is infamously fussy and squeamish). the very first time he sees that snake unhinge his jaw he is done with snakes forever for the rest of eternity. get a cat or something, freak. the snake is not the reason illario decides to kill lucanis but it doesn't have nothing to do with it either

meanwhile, lucanis is so happy because snake illario doesn't fight with him about who is going to be first talon or whether or not he should quit being a crow. snake illario is just happy to be here. snake illario accepts displays of affection (the display of affection involves dead mice). it's kind of like getting to cook for human illario without all the complicated emotions. snillario is the best thing that's ever happened to him

anyway and then illario pays to have his cousin killed and while lucanis is presumed dead and in the ossuary, out of cousinly guilt human illario tries to feed snake illario like one (1) time and then immediately decides he has enough money to pay to have this done but there is not enough money in the world to get him to touch a dead mouse

and even after lucanis gets back from the ossuary illario never finds out what the snake's name is.

here is an artistic depiction of snillario by my good friend @maulthots

thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[karanseraph]

It goes back to the voters, though, right?

Like, I know people were saying this last year after the election: I can't believe so many Americans voted against their own self interest

But, a bunch did.

And even if that percent wasn't the majority of everyone, or the majority of all registered voters, the situation and turn-out was such that it was enough to result in our current situation. (Where there's no "mandate", but they keep repeating there is.)

And so, understandably, now, a lot of people who didn't vote for that, or didn't vote, or regret how they voted are now stressed and frustrated in their own ways.

And I don't know what to do to make any future votes we may have better. My Congresswoman and two Senators happen to be Democrats and have been making some statements about what is going on. But Republican majorities, even if narrow still exist.

Yet, in my own household there is an enjoyer of a certain news channel who is an apologist for anything Trump and Republicans do, no matter what I say. One of those "I don't like him personally, but..." Just steadfastly convinced that somehow Republicans were the way to go.

And I have tried for years to argue against this and it does not work. I will just be seen as a hysterical girl or indoctrinated. I talk about Project 2025 "Oh, he said that's not his". I talk about the recent "buyout" of federal employees being an attempt to evade unemployment payments and labor policies, "lots of people think it's a good idea".I say something is seems wrong or unjust, "That's the way the world works."

There's people who for whatever reason can't process that society is what we make it at any given time. We can change it. But we have to want to and then do the work. We need a certain number (I don't know the percent) to tip change in a given direction.

I mean in 2020 we rapidly made sweeping societal changes and showed remote work could work for a lot of people (not everyone) and maybe it was better for the environment, but ever since there's been those who want to go back to the way things were before. Get everyone back in an office. Saying think of all the businesses like restaurants and shops that are near workplaces that will go out of business.

Well, those shops could be located closer to where people actually live where we could walk to them.

Anyway, that's my rant.

(But PS, extra side-rant, this person in my household will tell anecdotes about how back in the day in their industry it was rare to hire women as engineers, but he told those co-workers, that no he seriously did want them to consider the resumes of the women and not just pretend. So, it was all a great thing when he could be the good one and let these resumes be considered or to go do recruiting at universities, but now he can defend people who say DEI is a bad thing with all the insinuation that it's like saying "straight white men need not apply" when really it's saying "No, seriously, everyone can apply". (and then, yanno, have their resume read by a bot for some ghost position.))

[staticscreenwriting]

I took the good times, I'll take the bad times II Joel Miller

Summary: Joel doesn't think he's deserving of love after all he did and all he went trough. Or maybe he's just scared. Either way he can't let himself fall for (Y/N). Now if only she'd stop sending him those damn postcards.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (I always try not to describe the reader physically, if I missed something please let me know so I can change it and make this "applicable" to every reader. Thank you!)

A/N: This is my entry for the dear-uary challenge by @jolapeno . My prompt was "Character A keeps finding X and traces them back to Character B, who might be leaving them intentionally—or not." And I chose Postcards as my form of epistolary.

TW: This is mostly angsty fluff. There is some talk of self doubt and loss of a child but I think that should be it.

Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.

It all starts with a simple postcard tucked into the side pocket of his bag. Joel almost doesn’t realize it’s there, folded twice into a tiny square. It’s only when he’s looking for the list Maria gave him of all the things to look for on this run, that he grabs a hold of the card. 

His gloves make it hard to unfold the small paper but it’s way too cold to take them off. Joel was never big on winter and snow, even before everything went to shit. He doesn’t like the way it lingers, the way it consumes you from the inside out. Now, an unforgiving cold is all he feels as a thick blanket of snow has settled upon Wyoming. 

Bold bright letters scream out to him from the wrinkled paper “ Greetings from Tampa Florida. Wish you were here!”.

It’s one of those campy vintage ones where the letters are filled with drawings of landmarks and beaches. He remembers sending one just like this to his High School girlfriend when Dad took him and Tommy on a trip to Nashville when Joel was 16 maybe 17. It was a good trip, the last one they ever took together. Sometimes Joel wonders how his dad would deal with all of this. This new reality. This fucked up world. He always seemed so strong, so fearless. That man was unstoppable force and immovable object all at once. Every vulnerability Joel finds in himself, he’s sure was absent in his father. Maybe if he was a little more like his own dad he could’ve saved Sarah, could’ve spared Ellie the pain of living in this limbo of knowing and not knowing. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Joel moves closer to the fire, his only light source other than the stars. There’s writing on the back, blue ink on off-white paper. It’s not a handwriting he knows and for a second he wonders if the card has been there ever since he found the bag years ago, back in Boston. But he would know that, right? Would've found it by now. This must be new. This must be meant for him.

“ I know you hate the cold. I know it makes you sad and gloomy, well gloomier than usual. So let me tell you about the hottest day I ever experienced. I was a kid, maybe 7 or 8 and my mom took me to Florida. Not Tampa (it was the only postcard I could find at the library), but Orlando. We went to fucking Disney World!! We didn’t have a lot of money back then so mom must’ve saved a long time for this. Anyway, Joel, it was so hot. Unbearably hot. My clothes stuck to my skin and my hair got all frizzy. Maybe July wasn’t the best time to go. The air was so thick and heavy, so moist (ew). It felt like breathing in honey, syrup maybe. I still had the best time. I know it doesn’t take away the cold but I hope I can take you away to that hot and humid Florida summer for one small moment. If not, there’s a wool scarf at the bottom of your bag. Made it myself. You never told me what your favorite color is. I hope you like blue. xx 

P.S.: I wonder what happened to Disney World.” 

A chuckle falls from Joel’s lips and forms a cloud against the sharp winter air. He's never been to Disney World. The Millers just weren’t a Disney World kind of family. They were more of a local fair kind of family. All corn dogs and funnel cakes and first kisses behind the bumper cars. Sarah would’ve loved Disney World though. Ellie too. Ellie who doesn’t even know what the hell Disney is. 14 years and the girl has no idea who Mickey Mouse is. What a surreal thought. What a strange world. More than 20 years and it still feels strange. Joel wonders if life will ever let him settle in this new reality. If one day this feels like home and not a bad dream. Not a cosmic punishment. A bad joke that no one’s laughing at anymore.

His eyes travel back towards the blue swirly writing. It’s not Ellie’s bad chicken scratch, he could pick that out of a line-up any day. This looks much neater, more deliberate, and thoughtful. 

“There’s a wool scarf at the bottom of your bag.”

Quiet, as not to wake up the others sleeping just a few steps away, Joel opens the zipper on his bag and rummages through it with a gloved hand. There’s a bunch of stuff in there, food rations, ammunition, a second pair of gloves. Going on supply runs is not something Joel enjoys but it is a way for him to give back. To Tommy and Maria and the entire community. Jackson and its people have taken him and Ellie in as one of their own without much hesitation. They provided them with food, with shelter, with trust. He has so little to give in return. Going on a supply run to look for medicine and other necessities, that’s the least he can do. 

Something soft and squishy meets his hand and he pulls out a dark blue woolen scarf. There are so many holes and even in the dim light of the campfire, Joel can tell those holes are not there on purpose. Maybe it was Ellie after all, but then she never showed any interest in knitting, and the idea of her doing just that is far too ridiculous. No matter how imperfect it is though, Joel has to admit the scarf does make him feel warmer as he wraps it around his neck. 

“Hey,” Adam, one of the other guys on the run, speaks up from beside Joel, “you can catch some sleep if you want. I can take over the watch.” 

It’s a strange thing, how sometimes you don’t notice just how tired you are or how hungry you are until someone points it out to you. Until they offer to take it from you. Then it hits you like a brick to the face. A wave pulling you under. 

Joel feels his eyelids grow heavy and nods at the younger man. "Thanks". 

This mystery, it can wait until tomorrow. Until then he will bury his face in the warm soft wool of the scarf and think of that Florida sun. And though it most definitely is just his imagination, Joel could almost swear the night feels a little less cold.

His boots leave deep imprints in the white icy blanket as he makes his way past the Tipsy Bison and the community hall further towards his house. His home. 

No place has really felt like home in years. Not since all of this started. Everything was temporary. 4 walls and a roof. He wonders if this place will ever start feeling like home? Will he ever get to a point where he doesn’t wait for the second shoe to drop? It all feels like he’s Charlie Brown and life is Lucy pulling the football away at the last second. And it always ends with him falling. He’s so tired of falling. So tired of getting back up.

Joel almost expects the house to be silent as he steps inside. Ellie is slowly making friends with the other teens living in the settlement and is spending more time at their houses than she is at home. He can’t blame her. If he was more like his father he’d find it in himself to start conversations with people, get to know them, forge connections, make friends. Of the Miller boys, Tommy is the one who inherited their dad’s social gene though, Joel only got the snarl and the crippling inability to talk about his feelings.

Laughter echoes through the house as Joel rounds the corner connecting the entryway to the living room. Ellie’s laughter, loud and bright and light. As if for a moment all the horrors and the pain and the trauma have been taken from her.

When he steps into the kitchen, Joel understands. 

(Y/N) is standing by the counter, a smile on her face so soft and radiant it might just rival the sun. That joy she brings out in Ellie, it’s familiar to Joel because he feels it too whenever (Y/N) is around. Not always but sometimes. It’s a spark of warmth that starts in his chest and crawls up his spine. It settles in his lungs, his heart, his brain. Like a parasite. Like a virus. Like a wonderful dream. He doesn’t allow himself to feel it all the time but sometimes, sometimes he can’t deny himself this little bit of warmth.

Joel can’t even remember when exactly (Y/N) became a part of their life. It’s like one day she was there and refused to leave. And really that’s kind of how it went. She works at the library and the school, lives across the street from him and Ellie and for some reason, she’s taken pity on them. Joel isn’t sure if it's him or Ellie she pities. Maybe a mix of both. Either way, she brought over some soup one day and that’s the beginning and end of it all. She’s wormed her way into Ellie’s heart and by extension his too. Whether he likes to admit it or not. Doesn't hurt that she's so damn beautiful too.

“Joel, you’re back!” 

Ellie pulls him in a tight hug. It’s something Joel still has to get used to. Ellie isn’t a particularly affectionate person. She’s definitely not a hugger. And neither is Joel — not anymore at least. So when they do hug, it’s still a little strange. Not bad strange just unfamiliar. 

“Yeah, I’m back. 

“How did it go?” (Y/N) asks and meets his eyes over Ellie’s head. A silent conversation happening between her and Joel. It’s that thing she does where she doesn’t need to say a single word but Joel can tell exactly what she’s thinking just by the look in her eyes. He sometimes wonders if this is a them thing. 

“Did someone die” her eyes are saying. “Did someone get hurt?” 

“Did you get hurt?” 

He quickly shakes his head answering her unspoken questions. Not this time. 

“Good. It went good.” 

Maybe the relieved sigh he sees her let out is just his imagination. But Joel doesn’t think so. Joel thinks it's very real.

“Did you bring us something? “ 

He can’t help but smile at that. It feels good to smile. In a world that gives you grief and sorrow, you start to count the moments when it gives you a reason to smile. They are few and far between but the number has surely increased since Ellie stepped into his life — and since (Y/N) did. 

“I brought food and medicine. Isn’t that enough? “

A determined “no” falls from both their lips in a chaotic harmony. 

“Geez, you guys are demanding.” 

“Well — did you bring us something?” 

Joel just rolls his eyes and rummages through his bag for the goods. 

“For you— “ he says and throws the old wrinkled comic book towards Ellie who regards it with that endless sense of wonder she does possess. It’s the kind of spark that flickers and dies once you grow old. Or maybe just his did. Maybe grief leaves no room for wonder. 

Placing his bag on the ground, Joel moves into the kitchen and holds out his loot to (Y/N). Green background. White goats. Yellow bubble letters.

“Oooooh, you did get me something. Pet Sounds, nice!” 

There’s a spark in her too. Dulled and dusted from time but it is there and it flickers and grows every time Joel brings her a vinyl record from his trips outside of the settlement. In a world with so little joy, music seems to be one of the few things that hasn’t changed. In the face of immeasurable pain, humans turn to music. They have done so for a long time and judging by the world as is, they always will. 

“I hope it works still. Didn’t really have a record player to try it out.” 

“I’ll try it out as soon as I get to the library. Feel free to come by and listen with me.” 

“Sure.” 

“Thank you, Joel. I hope you didn’t have to do anything stupid to get this.” 

He didn’t. Not this time. He would’ve though. It scares him how willing he is to put himself in danger just to get her something that will put that radiant smile on her face. He’d walk to the end of the earth if he knew there was a record there she wanted. That thought scares the shit out of him. It’s bad enough he cares so deeply about Ellie, about Tommy. The more people you care about, the more you open yourself up to hurt. Losing either of them would tear him apart. Joel is not sure he can handle opening his heart to yet another person no matter how much his heart wants just that. 

“ Nah. No issues.” 

“Good.” 

She just looks at him for a moment. All soft eyes and gentle smile. There must be something she sees in him, Joel thinks, something he doesn’t see. A version of himself that he isn’t, that he will never be. A version he once was, maybe. A version he so desperately wishes he could be. For her.

“Well,” (Y/N) says and snaps him out of her enchantment “Ellie and I made some stew. I know you must’ve been freezing outside, some good warm stew might help warm you up a little.” 

“It smells great.” 

“You have impeccable timing because we just got done. So, dig in. And uh — I guess I’ll see you guys at the movie screening?” 

He doesn’t want her to leave. The devil and the angel on his shoulders are both screaming at him to ask her to stay. And if he was any stronger a man, any more like his own father and more deserving of good things, he would ask her. To stay for dinner. To stay forever.

But he isn’t. And he doesn’t ask. Just watches as she wraps a scarf around her neck and slips into the thick jacket that's a few sizes too big on her.

“I left the recipe by the fridge. Just in case you ever want to cook it yourself.” 

“Thanks.” 

And he really is grateful. For her. For everything.

“Oh Joel,” she says and stops in the doorway. “I like that scarf. Blue looks really good on you.” 

And then she’s gone, swallowed by the cold winter air. 

Joel hasn’t thought about his favorite color in forever. It’s something you stop thinking about once you start growing hair on your chest and fantasizing about girls in a way you haven’t before. Kids talk about their favorite colors all the time. Sarah did. It’s just once you grow old you lose that sense of self, define yourself through different things. 

Looking at the scarf now, all holes and imperfections, there is no doubt in his mind that his favorite color is blue. 

“Have you ever been to Paris?” 

The lights are dimmed in the big community hall, the movie playing on screen providing the only source of light as the people of Jackson have gathered for another movie night. 

A glimpse into a world that was but no longer is and never will be again. And for some of them, like Ellie, a world that never was to begin with.

Ellie is sitting in the front with some of the other teens, her friends, Joel supposes. She has friends now.

“Joel, have you?” 

A soft hand rests on his arm, shaking him from his gloomy thoughts. (Y/N) sits next to him, eyes focused on the pictures dancing across the screen. Ilsa and Rick, falling in love over and over again in Paris. The beginning of a love story doomed from the start. 

“I uh — no. Never.” 

“Me neither. I would’ve loved to go though. It looks beautiful.” 

He doesn’t know why or how it happens but the words just flow from his mouth like a waterfall. For the first time in a while, he finds himself wanting to talk more. About the past. About Sarah.

“My daughter, Sarah, went to Paris once. Some school exchange program. They don’t usually do it until later but her French class was above average and I guess they won some contest. I don’t know it was a long time ago.” 

“Sounds like she was a smart cookie.” 

"Oh, she was. Too smart for me, that’s for sure. Was hard letting her leave and fly to a whole different continent though. I was scared out of my mind until she was back home. Drove Tommy crazy for a whole damn week.” 

(Y/N) turns her face away from the screen and regards him with that infinite sense of something more. Soft and endearing. If he was a different man he would call it love. He would see the way she looks at him and he would kiss her stupid and life would be all sweet dreams and gentle touches. 

But he is the man he is. Not worthy of whatever she is willing to give.

“What’re looking at me like that for?” 

“It’s just sweet how much you care. About everyone. I think you don’t even know you’re doing it half the time.” 

“Do what?” 

“Care for others. For Ellie and me and all of us. You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I just wish you’d let someone take care of you for a change.” 

He doesn’t need to be taken care of. He can do it all on his own. And anyway, he is not as good of a man as she thinks he is. Good men don’t have the blood of their loved ones stuck to their hands. Good men don’t let their daughters die in their arms. Good men don’t kill. Good men don’t do all the things he did. 

Joel doesn’t want to be a good man. He just wishes he was good enough a man to allow himself to be with (Y/N).

“I ain’t a good man. And I don’t need someone to take care of me.” 

“You wore that scarf, did you not? You allowed me to take care of you then.” 

That damn scarf. He had a hunch it was her. The handwriting on the postcard matched the one of the recipe stuck to his fridge an awful lot. But it’s something else entirely to hear her say it outright. 

“That was you, huh? Had an awful lot of holes that thing.” 

“Hey, I never said I was good at knitting. You wore it anyway.”

Joel turns back towards the screen as Rick and Ilsa share a loving kiss. 

“Yeah, I wore it anyway.” 

And to the sound of bombs and tanks, (Y/N) rests her head on his shoulder.

That’s what you do for the people you love. Even if you don’t allow yourself to love them.

You wear the scarf anyway.

The mailbox flag is up. Bright red against the sharp white of the winter's day. 

It’s never been up. People around here don’t get mail. It’s but an ancient relic of a life they used to live. Remnants of a society long gone. 

But Joel is nothing if not curious. So he stomps up to the mailbox, leaving deep imprints in the freshly fallen snow. 

It’s another postcard. Only this time it doesn’t come with a mystery. This time it comes with that silly little feeling that makes his heart beat just a little faster. That makes his head swirl with stupid thoughts of stupid dreams.

“From Paris with love,” it says on the front. Fucking Paris, of course.

Sometimes the way he feels about her is infuriating, confusing, scary.

And sometimes, like right now, it feels like a ball of warmth settles in his ribcage and warms him from the inside out.

“Dear Joel,

We’ll never have Paris. Not in this life at least. And while I would’ve loved to see the Eiffel Tower sparkle with you and make you eat a croissant (which you would’ve pretended to hate but I think you would’ve enjoyed it secretly), I am glad to get this life with you at least. Or alongside you. Whatever it is we are, I am glad this life gave me that in between all the pain. Despite what you like to tell yourself, Joel Miller, you are a spark of fire, a light in the dark. You are more than the sum of your failures, you are more than your pain. All the good that is in you, that counts. That’s all that matters in the end. And there is so much good in you.

I wish you’d let yourself see it. 

We will never have Paris. But we’ll always have Jackson and that is enough for me. I hope it’s enough for you.

Here’s looking at you kid! ;) “

There’s a tragedy in knowing someone else sees all your good parts and none of the bad. A tragedy in knowing how much they like those good parts and being awfully aware that seeing all the bad parts would destroy them. 

A tragedy in still wanting to show them all of you, even the ugly soul-destroying parts.

But if she thinks he’s a good man, then Joel needs to be just that. A good man who keeps those ugly parts hidden and away from her. Even if that means denying himself the one thing he wants. 

“What’s that?” Ellie speaks up from beside him, a curious look on her face.

“Postcard.” 

“Like what people would send from vacations and stuff?”

“Yeah, how do you know about that?” 

She rolls his eyes at him and it’s one of those moments where he feels like a dad again. Those little moments that mean the world to him because he gets to feel like the old him. The Joel he thought was long dead and buried beside the bones of his own child.

“I watch movies? I talk to people? I read books? Take your pick.” 

“Wow, when did you become such a smartass, huh?” 

She shrugs his shoulders at him “Was born that way. Nothing I can do about it.” 

“Unfortunately.” 

“Hey, you’ve grown to love me! You wouldn’t want me any other way.” 

And she isn’t wrong. Ellie, with all her curiosity and her bravery and her lust for life, whatever that life may look like, is exactly what he needed. Which makes him wonder if saving her from the fireflies was ultimately more of a selfish act than that of a heroic savior. 

“Who’s it from?” 

“None of your business.” 

“Oh, so (Y/N).” 

His eyes flick up and he is met with that satisfied, mischievous grin that is so uniquely Ellie.

“What makes you think that?” 

“You always change the subject when I bring her up. And that way you just jumped when I mentioned her? Yeah, you’re not slick, old man.” 

“Hey! Who are you calling an old man?” 

“You! Old and scared!” 

“I’m not scared!” 

Like hell he is. Terrified even. But there ain’t no way in hell he’ll admit that to Ellie. She’ll never let him hear the end of it. 

“Then go talk to her! She likes you, you like her. Why do you have to make it so complicated?” 

If only she knew all the ghosts swirling around inside of him threatening to break free. Things could be so easy. Only nothing ever is.

“Mind your own business, kid! Anyway, don't you have someplace to be? Think Dina came by earlier asking for you. You two are getting along well, huh?” 

“Aaaand on that note. See you for dinner, old man!” 

She’s gone before he can even hurl a reply at her. It pulls his lips into a smile. There’s no better way to get a teen to shut up than to bring up their crush. Nice to see that some things never change.

Another run. Another record. 

Joel feels silly, standing here in front of her door with his heart beating fast and heavy as he clutches the vinyl record in his hand. 

If Ellie saw him now, she’d surely make fun of him. Tommy too. Sarah even. 

What happened, Joel? You used to be so brave. What makes you so afraid now? 

Life, he thinks. Life has made him scared and bitter and sad. 

“Did you wanna knock or — ?” 

Joel turns around as the voice calls out to him. There it is again, that softness, that smile. 

“Uh, yes.” 

“Okay, good. Did you come to see me? Sorry, I was helping Maria at the farm.” 

“Yeah no uh — don’t worry about it. I just came to drop this off” 

Her eyes grow wide as she catches sight of which record it is he’s holding up. 

“No way! The stranger! You found it.” 

“ I did.” 

He had to clear an old dilapidated bar full of clickers to get that record. Almost lost his damn arm in the process. But her smile, that god-damn, life-ruining, world-shattering, heart-beat-faster, smile of hers makes it all worth it. He would give both arms, all of him. He would give it all to see her smile.

“Do you wanna come in and listen to it with me? Got my player fixed so I don’t have to use the one at the library anymore.” 

Say no. Just say no and go home. Be a good man! Be a better man! 

But he’s not. For this one moment, he can’t be that man. He’s just as weak as the rest of them. 

“Sure.” 

This feels so — normal. So before everything. Different and twisted and warped. But normal.

It’s scary and comforting all at once. Like a tipsy dream when you know you’ll wake up with a headache for sure.

(Y/N) is twirling around her living room, a beer in hand and a smile on her face. Joel leans against the door connecting her living room and her kitchen and all he can do is stare. At this woman who means so much to him. Too much for him to ever put into words. If he even knew how to. He’s never been a poet. 

“I said I love you, that's forever

And this I promise from the heart, mmm

I couldn't love you any better

I love you just the way you are, right”

“I love this song. Can you imagine someone loving you enough to write something like this about you?” 

Yes, he thinks. If only he WAS a poet. He would write a hundred songs. A thousand. And all of them would talk of her smile and her eyes and the way there is no single thing about her he would change. 

But words fail him. They always do. 

So he just nods.

“Joel,” she says and moves closer. The bottle of beer now placed on her couch table, her hands find his chest. So warm. So soft. And all he does is stare. 

“I know you got my postcards. I know you know how I feel. And sometimes I think you feel the same. I see the way you look at me. I know the dangers you put yourself in to get me those records. I just — you never say anything. So am I making a fool of myself here? Please tell me if I — “ 

“You’re not.” 

Wow, so eloquent. 

“I’m not?” 

Her voice sounds so small. So unsure. He hates that he’s the one who put the uncertainty there. Be a better man, Joel! Be a good man for once! 

But all he does is stare. Words fail him. Again. again. again.

“Then can I — can I do this?” 

(Y/N)’s gaze falls to his lips then back up to his eyes. She is so close. He can feel her warm breath on his skin. Can smell the scent of her shampoo. Notices the tremble of her fingers as her hands rest on his chest.

And he wants to kiss her. Every version of him that ever was and ever will be wants to kiss her. But all he does is stare.

All he does is stare and pull away.

And it breaks his heart to see hers break in that moment. 

“I uh — oh I’m sorry Joel.”

Tears gather in her eyes, fill them with sorrow, fill his heart with rage. He can’t do anything right, can he? Everyone he’s ever loved, he’s disappointed. But how can he let himself love her, how can he let her love him, when he is so broken? When all he does is break things?  Taint them with this infinite sadness that lives and grows inside his bones? 

“It’s not you.” 

“Oh please, Joel. I made a fool of myself already. Don’t make it worse.” 

“I ain’t trying to. It just ain’t you. It’s all me. It’s always been me”

His palms are sweaty and he feels like someone has reached into his ribcage, cracked every rib on the way to his heart, and ripped it out with bare hands. Snapping veins and arteries and all.

“I want you. I want this but I can’t have it. You think I’m a good man but the truth is, I am not. I do bad things all the time, over and over again and time and life have made me so numb to it. But you, you are so good. You deserve someone better. Someone whole.”

It’s like once he’s started it all comes flowing out like a fucking waterfall. All his fears and insecurities and pain. It’s all there for her to be disgusted by. Because god knows there is no way she won’t be. He is. All the time.

“I have not been the same since this all started. Since Sarah — since she died. I live with this immense grief. It surrounds me. It IS me. All of me. And I so desperately want to claw my way out of it. Rip it apart and leave it behind. But at the same time, I want to bury myself in it. Because what if I do leave it behind and I start to forget? Her and all that she was? How is it fair that I have to remember her far longer than I got to know her? So if I get better, if I become the man I need to be to be worthy of your love, am I still gonna be the man she knew? Can I still remember? Because that is all I have. And that is not a burden I can put on you. Not you and not Ellie.”

Joel takes a breath then another but it does little to calm him down.

“You two mean everything to me and I am sorry I am bad at showing it. That I can’t say it. I need you to know, it’s all me that’s the problem. It was never you. I’m sorry.” 

He doesn’t wait for her to say anything. He doesn’t think he has the heart to hear a reply anyway. It’s like he just ripped himself open and spilled all his guts, his heart, his lungs, and all his inside out on her living room floor. 

If he was any better of a man he’d pick them up and try to rearrange them.

But he is not a good man. Maybe he never was.

“There was something for you in the mailbox” Ellie exclaims and slumps down on the couch next to him. “I was this close to opening it but I didn’t want to make you even more grumpy than you already are.” 

“I’m not grumpy” 

He has to admit, the tone in which he said those words does not do much to counter her point. Ellie knows too, judging by the way she raises her eyebrow “Sure, you’re not.” 

She drops a sunflower yellow envelope on his lap. ‘Joel’, it says in that swirly handwriting he’s become so familiar with.

It’s been a few weeks since he’s seen (Y/N). Since he spilled all his sorrows and worries to her and then ran. And, surprisingly, Jackson makes it very easy for someone to avoid another person if you only try hard enough.

Maybe Ellie has a point, maybe he has been exceptionally grumpy lately. No correlation to any recent events though. Absolutely zero.

“Sooo are you gonna open it?”

Ellie looks at him with curiosity and that little spark of mischief as if she knows something he doesn’t. 

“Not with you watching over my shoulder, I ain’t.” 

“Why?” 

“Cause it’s none of your business.” 

“Excuse me? I have to live with your grumpy ass because you guys can’t get your shit straight. I think it very much is my business.” 

“Jesus, Ellie. Language!" 

“Sorry,” she says and gives him that pseudo-sheepish look he’s grown familiar with. “You guys need to get your stuff straight.” 

He used to scold her for it but really, he isn’t one to talk. 

“Anywayyyyy, I’ll go stay at Dina’s tonight … just in case you decide to go over and apologize for whatever it is you did and you guys finally sort it out and need some privacy later.” 

“Why do you think I did something?” 

And there it is again that sassy eyebrow raise. The same one he’s seen on Sarah so many times before. It truly is a woman’s world and he’s but a fool living in it. And they let no opportunity pass to remind him of just that.

They are also absolutely right.

“My lawyer advised me not to answer that question. Anyway, be nice. Have fun. Byyyye” 

Her voice trails off as she grabs her bag and rushes outside leaving Joel alone in this big empty house with nothing but his demons and this mysterious envelope.

Carefully he opens the seal and shakes out the contents. A postcard, a photo, and a — cassette tape? 

His eyes find the photo first. It’s a polaroid of him and Ellie and (Y/N). All 3 of them smiling, yes even him. He remembers that day back last summer. It was one of those warm but not yet hot days. (Y/N) was wearing that agonizingly beautiful red sundress. The one that made his heart beat twice as fast. She brought over a whole basket full of cherries from the tree in her garden. A pie too. And that damn Polaroid camera. 

Of course, Ellie was enamored by it, wasted almost the whole damn film. 

“Come on Joel, let's take a picture together,” she had called out to him and pulled him to sit down next to her and (Y/N) on the blanket they had placed on the lawn. 

“I’m not a picture guy,” he had grumbled, “ ain’t nobody want to see my old mug.” 

“Oh shut up. Joel, you are so handsome, don’t even pretend like you don’t know that.” 

It was the first time (Y/N) had ever called him handsome. It was hard for him to believe it then, hell it still is. But she has done it a lot more since then. Calls him handsome and gorgeous and pretty all the time. At first, he thought she was just humoring him but slowly but surely it dawned on him that she meant it. Means it still.

“We don’t know how many good sunny days we have left. Ain’t no shame in trying to remember this one, right?” 

Her eyes held so much honesty then. Vulnerability too. And gratefulness for all they had then after all they had lost. It made him smile then and it makes him smile now.

The Postcard is next, big bold letters spell out TEXAS and in the corner, there’s a drawing of the Texas State Capitol in Austin.

When he turns the Postcard over, there it is again, that swirly writing he’s grown to love so much. 

“Joel, the ‘Postcards from around the world’ book I got from the library didn’t have an Austin one but it did have a Texas one so that’ll have to do. I’m not even sure if you're going to read this. I hope you do because you didn't give me a chance to say my part when you stormed off & I think I deserve that.

You're not the man you were in Austin, you lived through the worst thing imaginable and it changed you. But you are not just your pain. It is part of you but it doesn't define you. I know you see all the bad but none of the good but believe me I see it! Ellie does! You are your pain but you are also the smile on Ellie's face when you bring her a new comic or teach her a song. You're the guitar chords echoing through the air on a warm spring afternoon. You are those fluttery feelings in my heart whenever you look at me.

Joel Miller, I understand if you don't want to be with me but if it's only because you don't think you're good enough then I think that's a choice I get to make. Taking that from me is a dick move. 

You said you're bad at showing love but you're not. You showed me through all those records. Through all those songs. Now let me love you back.”

Joel can’t quite name the feeling spreading through him. It’s both foreign and familiar at the same time. Like an old friend. A hazy memory. Pictures blurred and dulled by time and age. 

Maybe he was wrong, and he hates admitting that. Maybe he ain’t a good man but maybe that is hers to decide. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

He takes the cassette tape in his hand and squints his eyes at the tiny writing on the label. God, he really is getting old. Those eyes ain’t what they used to be.

God only knows - The Beach Boys - Pet Sounds

You’re my best friend - Queen - A Night at the Opera

Just Like Heaven - The Cure - Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me (you should!) 

In Your Eyes - Peter Gabriel - So

Time After Time - Cyndi Lauper - She’s so unusual

Your Song - Elton John - Elton John

Can’t Help Falling in Love - Elvis - Blue Hawaii

Wonderful Tonight - Eric Clapton - Slowhand

The Book of Love - The Magnetic Fields - 69 Love Songs (!!!! LOVE SONGS!!!)

Just The Way You Are - Billy Joel - The Stranger

"You gave me all these records with all these songs and all these words to tell me you love me and I’m not sure you even knew.” 

And she’s right. He got her those records because he knew they’d make her smile. Because that smile means everything to him whether he wants to admit it or not. He got those records to show her that even when he’s gone on a run, she’s always on his mind. He believed it to be a curse, a ghost haunting him for all his past mistakes and taunting him with what he shall never have.

But maybe it’s not a curse. 

Maybe it’s a blessing. A sweet song to remind him that someone back home is waiting. A gentle reminder that life can and will go on and good things can come from immense tragedy. And moving on doesn’t mean forgetting, in fact, it means remembering. Remembering the bad and believing that there can and will be good and that it’s worth it to go on. Even if you are a different you. Not worse or better, just changed. And that you deserve love. And kindness. And warmth.

Joel drops the envelope and its contents on the table and grabs his thick winter jacket as he rushes outside. The cold feels only half as bad as it nips at his skin, he barely notices. There is a fire inside him now, burning away all the doubts and hesitation. 

He’s back at her door, only this time he doesn’t wait to knock. He’s spent so much time denying himself the one thing he wants that he can’t lose just one second more. The rapping of his knuckles against her door echoes through the winter day. Oh, how he can’t wait for the spring and the summer and her in that gorgeous dress. 

“Joel?” 

Back before — everything, Joel remembers a movie night with Sarah. She got to choose and despite being an avid fan of trashy action and horror movies, that time she chose a romantic comedy. All things considered, Joel can admit that when Harry met Sally wasn’t the worst choice but he still would’ve preferred Star Wars or Terminator. 

He does remember the ending though, the grand finale. He remembers Sarah trying to wipe away tears without him noticing. And he remembers Billy Crystal’s words “When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” 

Back then he thought it was some silly, cheesy movie speak. No one feels that way, right? It’s grandiose and kitschy for the sake of movie magic.

But no, he’s sure now, that one is true. Because it’s how he feels.

“I love you!” 

That confession should come with ribbons and flowers and fireworks but it doesn’t. It comes with honesty and that is all that matters. It comes from the heart.

“Huh?” 

“I got your postcard. The photo too and the tape. And I love you.” 

“I know. Took you long enough to figure it out.” 

“I’m sorry. I — I still believe that I am not a good man and that you deserve better. But it would be selfish to punish you for my own insecurities. I love you and I want to let you love me. If you still want to, that is.” 

“Joel Miller?”

“Yeah?” 

“Please just fucking kiss me.” 

Joel remembers a lot of kisses in his lifetime. Some rushed, some clumsy. Quick kisses in secret. Long drawn-out smooches in smokey bars. Loving, fast, aggressive, and soft. 

This one is different, as cheesy as it sounds.

This kiss makes him feel like all he’s ever been and all he ever will be can live in peace with one another. This kiss makes him feel like none of it matters as long as he has her. 

She tastes like peppermint and sunshine and he’s sure he’ll never get enough of her. The feeling of her skin against his as he gently cradles her face in his hand. The soft movements on her chest as she breathes. The twitch of her lips as she smiles into the kiss.

For the first time in his life, Joel is sure that a kiss is more than a kiss. It’s a healing hand on a shattered heart. It’s a new path to a new future. It’s sunshine melting the ice from his bones.

It’s a promise to try every day and to be better and to be enough. ---

[dcdreamblog]

Hey there. I recently moved to Gotham for job related reasons. Thought I had a pretty good handle on the whole hero and villain thing down here, the Bats and their various enemies are the only ones anyone seems to talk about anyways.

So imagine my surprise when one day I'm driving back home and something that I can only describe as some kind of yellow and red demon lands right on top of my car hood before getting back up and leaping into the sky. look up and see what I think were some other ugly monsters or something firing down some magic stuff at em.

Got back home as quick as I could after that, asked a few guys I know at work what the hell it was about but they got nothing, but one of em pointed me to your blog. So Historian, you happen to know anything about yellow and red demons in Gotham?

First off you should probably contact your insurance about the car. Unlike the jokes made by people who don't live in superhero cities, or the fearmongering of idiots, insurance DOES cover "acts of superhero" especially if you live in Gotham. If they give you a hard time, reach out to the Thomas and Martha Wayne Foundation. Bruce Wayne LOVES thumbing his nose at oligarchs in these sorts of situations. As for the demon you saw, you are VERY lucky you only got a glancing blow from whatever the hell Etrigan got wrapped up in this week.

(A CCTV image showing Etrigan bursting forth from a burning warehouse)

Now you'll have to forgive me I only took a few occult related classes in college for my degree and my knowledge of the Arthurian Period is limited to how it intersects with my specialties but the basic rundown is this. Etrigan is a demon. Like from Hell (or some version of the Christian vision of same, how you feel like dealing with this information is down to your personal theology). He's on the higher rank of mid class demon from what I know, not any kind of ruler, lord or arch but a caste of warriors known as "Rhymers" (due to their distinct habit of every statement they utter having to be rhymed). (All of the information below has been run past my occult colleagues, I have those now, to make sure I am not summoning anything or offending anyone who would want to turn my intestines into snakes) Etrigan was something of a Monkey King figure, born as first son to the Arch-Demon Belial and the Serpent Queen Ran Va Daath he was too powerful to control even for Hell's bureaucracy and so he was placed under the control of the mortal wizard Merlin (who is his younger brother, long story, go read a grimoire). It was during the Fall of Camelot that Etrigan was bonded to the dishonored knight Jason Blood, I actually already did a dive on that some weeks back. Blood and Etrigan have been stuck together for the following millennia, Etrigan's instincts as a born engine of destruction kept in check by Jason Blood's honorable character meaning that most often the Demon has been set against creatures of his own domain in defense of mankind. Blood currently works as an Occultist in Gotham though he's very much a jet setter and can be spotted just about anywhere in the world there's mystery afoot. The advice I would give is DO NOT seek out any more information about this in person. If ANYTHING was left on your car (blood, fangs, scales, scraps of cloth) that you KNOW come from Etrigan or the other demon or can't otherwise identify. I have been tasked with giving you some instructions by my said occult colleagues. 1. Gather up as much of the mass of the object as you can.

2. Burn it, if you are religious, pray while you burn it. In fact, praying during every step of this disposal process couldn't hurt.

3. Gather up the ashes, wrap them in a burlap sack tied off with a leather cord (yes the material is important).

4. Place (DO NOT THROW) the bag beneath the current of cold, running water.

5. Wait for any bubbles or any motion within the bag to stop, anything that's drowning in there is not your responsibility.

6. Gently release the bag and do not take your eyes off it until it either hits the bottom or vanishes from sight.

7. Scoop up the water in a metal container with your RIGHT hand

8. Douse the spot you picked up the material from with the water. Do not touch, sit on or otherwise interact with the spot until the water has naturally dried.

9. If at ANY POINT these processes do not go as planned. If you notice signs of your car or home being rearranged without your knowledge. Or otherwise sense anything amiss, contact a licensed occultist from www.Shadowpact.org and follow any further instructions TO. THE. LETTER

10. Make a mental note that you do NOT fuck around with magic. Magic is NOT a joke or a scam. And the people who deal with magic are VERY well educated in how not to get themselves killed. YOU ARE NOT.

[pastafossa]

im watching frank castle edits (he is so hot) and im dying to read some badass scenes with him and jane. i think that if they would start to get along, they would be really lethal combination. do you plan something like this?

YESSSSSS, I definitely have some stuff planned with Jane and Frank after he's out of jail fuck having him in prison is inconvenient but it won't be for long, and especially him getting to work alongside Hound!Jane as they hunt Certain People TM down (I have one scene in mind that, if I pull it off, will be fucking awesome and kickass for the both of them; been working on that one for MONTHS). Because yeah, when you think about it, the way they both operate would flow fairly well together and their hunting styles aren't all that different. They also both, technically, want the same thing: Cyrus and all his people dead, and Jane would absolutely resonate with his own drive to get vengeance. They'll be friends by the end, though there'll be some tugging back and forth a bit between Matt and Frank over her for a little while - not in the romantic sense, but in a morality sense, since Frank's going to encourage very different instincts in her than Matt will, and there's still the thorny murder-y issues that her and Matt are avoiding discussing. Then again, Frank nudging her like that isn't going to go the way Frank thinks it will either...

[egophiliac]

CROWLEY SSR THOUGHTS

there is zero basis for this, but I can't get this thought of my head

I don't know why I decided to draw it this way

[licorishh]

no way she's alive ?? yea those mental health breaks because social media makes people suck are wild huh