#anyways like. i was young and stupid... she's four years older than me so

[sports-on-sundays]

hii <3 i have a request for an hector fort one shot. basically he has a crush/is in love with reader but shes few years older than him… she doesnt want to admit her feelings for him because she doesnt date younger boys and thinks it isn’t right. in then end hector makes her realize her feelings or sth like that . thank you if youre going to write this, take Your time anyway <3 have a nice day/evening idk whats Your time zone lol !!

it isn't right / Héctor Fort

Summary: Héctor x adult!female!Barcelona videographer!reader - Description above.

Warnings: blood

Requested?: Yes.

Author's Note: I decided at the end, his birthday passes, just because that felt like it should happen, so that they're both adults. Other than that, thank you.

Héctor kind of refuses to call it a crush.

Because a crush sounds too immature. It sounds like just a little kid crush, that doesn't really matter.

But it does matter, and it's more than just a crush.

Héctor is sure he really does love you.

"Mate, but there's no way," Marc comments, crossing his arms as he walks onto the training pitch with Héctor. "She's, like, so much older than you."

"Not really," Héctor comments in annoyance.

"Do you know how old she is?"

"Yeah!"

"How?"

Héctor glares, embarrassed. "I asked her."

"You did? When? And what did she say?" Marc asks, eyebrows shooting up.

"I don't know... A couple weeks ago. She just told me, and said she just had her birthday."

"Oh. So...? How old is she?"

Héctor glances at his football boots. "Twenty-one."

"Pwoah! Yeah, and you're seventeen!"

"Four years! It's only four years!"

"What year would that be? She was born in 2002? At least she's not from the 90's... Then she'd be really old."

"Yeah, because twenty-five or twenty-six is really old, right?" Héctor comments in disbelief at his teammate.

"Just saying," Marc shrugs. "Either way, you should go for girls your age. You've got no chance with her. She's too pretty, anyway."

"You're saying I'm not good looking?!"

Marc grins. "You're putting words in my mouth!"

"Well, I'll prove you wrong. I'll make her like me. You'll see. I'm going to go talk to her right now."

"Alright. If you say so," Marc comments with an eye roll as he continues walking.

So you look up from your camera to see Héctor approaching you. You smile. You've had a few short conversations with him, and you have to admit, he's sweet. "Hey, Héctor."

He smiles back, blushing a little.

You're not stupid. You've picked up that he's got a little crush on you.

"Hey, Y/n," he says, putting his hand on your shoulder. You glance to it, but pay that no mind as he continues, "How are you?"

"Good, and you?"

"Good... I... can I ask you something?"

You chuckle. "Shoot, Héctor."

"Do you.. Would you say I'm, like, good looking?"

You grin a little. "I think most football players are."

"But, like, me. Specifically...?" he pushes.

You smile. "You're alright." You really do like Héctor. You think he's sweet, and if he were a bit older, he's definitely the type of guy you could see yourself falling for.

But he's just...

He's still so young. You don't even let yourself consider those feelings, because you know that would be wrong. He's not even an adult yet.

"Just alright?" he leans closer.

"Do you want me to tell you you're handsome?"

"I want you to be honest," he grins.

"Why do you think I'm not being honest?" you inquire, turning back to your camera. His hand remains on your shoulder.

"I don't know..."

"Alright, Héctor. You're handsome."

"You're not just saying that?"

"No, I'm not," you respond casually. He remains there awkwardly, just standing there, so you look up at him, meeting his eyes, and say, "Anything else I can do for you?"

"Uh, date me?" he suddenly blurts.

You snort, but feel your face heat a bit. "You're basically twelve. Ew."

"I'm seventeen! And you just turned twenty-one, anyway! You're not that much older."

"So someone is just a little stuck on me," you state.

"So what?" he says in annoyance.

You sigh, your eyes softening. "Listen, Héctor. I like you a lot. You're sweet, and kind. But I simply can't date a seventeen-year-old. That goes against my conscience. It's not right. We can be friends, but that's it."

He grins, but there's still a bit of disappointment in his eyes. "I mean, hey. Friends is better than nothing... right?"

"Right," you smile. "Now, you better get to training. You're not paid to talk to me."

He rolls his eyes but runs off to do just that.

"Wow, Héctor... This is so nice..." you say softly as you look around the restaurant you sit in. You and Héctor have been hanging out more, going out places, but every single time, you're sure to remind him it's not a date.

"I figured you'd like it here," Héctor says with pride, crossing his arms across his chest.

You're aware of how much he tries to impress you.

And sometimes it works, but you try not to let him know.

As you eat, he slowly inches his hand towards yours, and slips it on top. But you slip it out, saying, "I reckon friends don't typically do that for no reason, huh, Héctor?" You grin teasingly, rolling your eyes.

He laughs, his cheeks reddening a bit. "Whatever."

You continue eating, and talking, just about life. There's a lot of teasing between you two that you're not ready to admit is flirting.

You've trained your mind to only think about Héctor when he's in front of you, because otherwise, you'd find yourself falling for a seventeen-year-old, and you simply will not let that happen.

You and some of Héctor's other friends are on the beach, playing an epic sand volleyball tournament by the lovely expanse of cool light blue water.

Of course, Héctor made sure to be on the same team as you.

Your long hair has grains of sand in it, and your knees are a little red, but you don't care. You're having the time of your life.

When you take off your tank top in the heat so you're just wearing your swim top, you catch Héctor's eye and snap. "Hey, buddy! Keep your focus! It's your serve!"

He blushes and looks away, before serving.

It's quite a bad serve, and goes straight into the grass on the other end of the net.

You catch his eyes and teasingly stick out your tongue as he argues, "We're on the same team!" with a little laugh.

But then, you run for the ball a few volleys later, slide, hit it up, but have a little tumble, gently hit your head on the pole that holds up the volleyball net, and up laying on your back, staring up at the blue sky, eyes glazed over in confusion.

But only for a moment, before Hector's concerned eyes come into view. Immediately he's there, kneeling by you. "Are you okay?" he asks, putting his hand on your arm.

"Yeah... yeah, I am. I think so..." You feel a bit of a sting below your hairline on your forehead, so you drag your hand over it, and stare in horror when you bring your hand back down to see it covered in blood.

You scream.

"Hey, hey... Looks just like a gash," Héctor says immediately in a soothing tone, giving your arm a little rub. "Come on." He hold his hand out to you to help you up. "I'll help you clean it up in the bathroom."

"Should we keep playing without you guys?" one of Héctor's friends calls as you walk with him toward the bathroom slowly, kind of in a daze.

"Yeah!" Héctor calls back. "We'll be back in a few."

When in the bathroom, you immediately rinse your hand as Héctor begins gently wiping up your forehead, asking gently, "Does it hurt a lot...?"

"No..." you say softly, looking at yourself in the mirror. "Just a little sting... It was just the blood, I think..."

He nods. "The shock of seeing all that blood."

"Right. Exactly," you say with a shaky sigh.

"Just looks like a cut that's bleeding a lot. You'll be a okay," he reassures, and although you could have just told yourself that, it's nice to have someone else saying it. "Just need it to stop bleeding as much, and then we can go back, and I'll get you a Band-Aid for it."

"You thought to bring Band-Aids?" you ask, surprised.

"I somehow remembered, yeah," he chuckles. But then his cheeks redden as he adds, "I mean, it's good I did, in the end. That way, I can take care of you..." His hand gently strokes your arm.

"Shut up, Héctor," you respond, looking away from him in the mirror to shield him from seeing the stupid pinkness on your cheeks. "You realize I could have taken care of myself just fine. I don't need a seventeen-year-old taking care of me."

"Sure," he grins, "but one did, regardless."

You sigh and roll your eyes as he continues to dab at your cut. Once the bleeding has stopped enough to not be dripping blood, he takes your hand and leads you out of the bathroom, saying, "I'll seal this up with a Band-Aid now."

You almost forget to slip your hand back out of his.

When you reach the beach chairs, where the Band-Aids Héctor brought will be, he gently urges you to sit down. You do so, and he kneels in front of you, looking into your eyes. He brushes some hair off your forehead gently, away from the wound, before putting the Band-Aid on it, saying, "There you go! All better." He gives your bare thigh a little pat, which makes your face heat up.

"Héctor, keep your hands to yourself," you say rudely, but he doesn't take offense, and just continues, "Feel better enough to keep playing?"

You nod and stand up with him, walking toward the volleyball court again.

Héctor had a bunch of friends over for his birthday.

Eighteen.

It leaves you with some questions.

He's older, now.

Legally, an adult.

And clearly Héctor has some questions, too, because for a moment, he whispers in your ear, "Will you be able to stay a little longer? After everyone else has left?"

You blink a few times, and can't help but blush. "That's fine. We can do that."

He nods, looking relieved. "Alright. Good. Let's do that."

So later, after a fun couple of hours, you watch the last of Héctor's friends leave.

So only the two of you remain.

He gently takes your hand, and you sit down on the couch together. "So," he begins. "I'm eighteen. I'm an adult now."

You nod slowly. "You are. Look at how much you've grown up," you tease, grinning.

He squeezes your hand. You stare at the two hands, connected. He smiles a bit, saying, "You've had all these months, of really getting to know me."

"I know," you smile. "And I think I like you."

He nods. "Enough...?"

"Enough for what?"

"I know I'm so much younger than you. But think about it. Now I'm eighteen. Eighteen and twenty-one is fine. I mean, Vitor's wife is older than him! He's eighteen!"

You smile softly. "Yeah, that's a good point."

"So?"

"So what?" you grin.

"Would you date me now?"

"Maybe I would," you say softly, feeling butterflies a little.

He grins wider. "Come on. Just say it. I know you like me back."

"Sure, Héctor," you roll your eyes. "I like you back."

He grins, and suddenly hugs you tightly- not what you were expecting, but you didn't know what to expect. "Oh, thank goodness," he mutters. "I've been waiting to hear you say that for months..."

You grin and hug him tighter back, "Yeah, yeah," you say, ruffling his hair. "I'm sure you have been."

[dragoneyes618]

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if a Rivera besides Imelda had died first.

I think it can be presumed that Imelda died first and was very not pleased to see Héctor, so after being rejected by her a few times he gave up and focused all his efforts on getting over the bridge to see Coco. (The miscommunication here gives me a headache every time I think of it.) This was all probably before the other Riveras died, since they show no sign of recognizing him when they see him make a run for it. (The twins would know who he is, but that’s a different story.)

But what if Imelda hadn’t died first? What If someone else had?

Suppose it was, say, Victoria.

We don’t know anything about how Victoria died; all we know is that it was not of old age like her mother and grandmother; she must have died decades before Coco did, given how much younger than Elena she looks.

So suppose, whatever she died of, she died a few years earlier, even before Imelda, and was the first Rivera to enter the Land of the Dead except Héctor. She’s at the Department of Family Reunions, and they ask her for the names of her family so they can reunite her with anyone who’s dead, and so that they’ll have her on file to greet her living family whenever they arrive.

As far as Victoria knows, she doesn’t have any dead family members (unless there’s people from Julio’s side of the family), but she lists everyone she’s related to anyway, because of course she wants to be able to meet her mother and father and sister when they arrive, so they won’t arrive alone, not like she is. And they take all the names she’s written down and see if any of those names, or her own name, have appeared on any other list.

And lo and behold, someone notices that Victoria listed Socorro “Coco” Rivera as her mother and Imelda Rivera as her grandmother, and that Héctor Rivera who tries to jump the bridge every year listed Imelda as his wife and Coco as his daughter. So they send some people over to find Héctor wherever he is (since Imelda and the twins are still alive, and Coco’s still healthy, he’s probably not forgotten enough to be in Shantytown yet, even though he’s never had an ofrenda) and tell him that his recently deceased granddaughter is waiting to meet him.

Héctor is, well, shocked. He’s excited to find out that he has a granddaughter, he’s grieving to have that granddaughter join him before her time, and he’s shocked to have a granddaughter in the first place.

Logically, Héctor knows that it makes sense that he has a granddaughter. But he still pictures Coco as three or four years old, and he hasn’t seen her since. It’s one thing to know, in theory, “Oh yeah Coco’s probably married with kids by now,” and quite another thing to meet one of his daughter’s daughters. Especially when that granddaughter is older than he is. Especially when that granddaughter is older than he remembers his daughter being.

Victoria doesn’t have a very good opinion of her grandfather, of course. All she knows about him is that he’s the man who left his family behind for some stupid musical fantasy, breaking his wife’s and daughter’s hearts.

But she didn’t know he was dead. Her grandmother is still alive and well; why should her grandfather be any different?

And if he had died, well…he’d never bothered to contact any of them in life, but shouldn’t someone have contacted his family upon his death? Or, if he’d never deigned to even speak of them, well…if he was a famous musician, shouldn’t his death have been announced in newspapers and on the radio? Victoria was barely more than a toddler when the famous Ernesto de la Cruz died, but she remembered people talking about it in the shoe shop, before her grandmother had snapped at them to buy a pair of shoes or leave.

And he’s so young. It’s not immediately obvious at first, but as she sees him move around, movements at once awkward and excited, she realizes it. He has a full head of dark hair; his movements are spry and agile, and his voice is the strong voice of a young singing man.

“So you’re my…my granddaughter?” Héctor asks, stumbling over the words.

“Apparently,” Victoria says, folding her arms and glaring at him.

Surprisingly, he laughs. “Ay, you look just like mi vida when you do that!”

She blinks.

“Imelda,” he explains. “She used to give me just that look - never mind. Tell me, how is she? How is Coco? Are they all right?”

“They’re…fine,” Victoria says slowly, disconcerted by the intensity of his questioning.

“I was so worried,” he says. “I never got to see them, you know, they never put my photo up. I was worried that something happened to them, but they never came here, so I knew they must be all right…Do you know if something happened to my photo? We took one as a family when Coco was a baby, you know, and we took extra good care of it. I remember the boys were upset because we didn’t let them be in it.”

“The who?” Victoria asks. However she imagined her grandfather, she definitely didn’t imagine this man who asks earnestly about the welfare of his family, saying his worries and fond memories in one breath.

“The twins,” he explains. “Oscar and Felipe, your…wow, I guess they’re your great-uncles now. Wow. I can’t believe it. It’s been so long…”

His face falls.

“So Coco’s your mother?” he asks. “I can’t believe that too. Do you have any siblings? Wait, who did she marry? Who’s your father?” Without giving Victoria a chance to answer he rushes and rambles on. “I want you to tell me everything, please. About you, and your family, and how Imelda is - she’s nearly seventy by now, isn’t she? - and about your father and mother. I can’t believe Coco’s married. I wish I could’ve been there. I used to dream about what her wedding would be like. I still do sometimes. I never got to see her all grown up and beautiful - I know she has to be beautiful if she looks even a drop like Imelda - being courted by some young man - I know Imelda would never have let anyone but the best even consider marrying Coco - ay, I wish I could have been there. I died when Coco was only four, I never got to see any of this.”

“You what,” Victoria says.

No, I haven’t spent all day thinking of this. I’ve spent all of last week thinking of this.

I also have a scenario in mind with the twins but I’m not typing it now because this is quite long enough.

…I have a new fic idea now.

[novankenn]

Nora in : Tea with Jaune's family... Story-Time

"In a time before antiquity, a lonely young woman sat trapped, impressioned in a tower by her father. The once kind man, had shattered when his wife, the mother of his daughter passed while giving her birth. Obsessed with keeping her safe, he locked her away from the world..."

Nora: Wait... this sounds like that fairy-tale! The girl in the basement?

Nora: It's the Girl in the Tower!

Nora: So you are REALLY telling me a story.

Nora: Would you just listen! This is important!

Nora: Well can we get Bob to bring some finger sandwiches, or cookies? This is going to be long isn't it?

Nora: Okay. Bob!

Bob the Beowulf sticks his head in through the door.

Nora: Bob could you get us some cookies and pastures, and some hot chocolate, please?

Bob(Beowulf): *Yip

Bob's head vanishes back through the door.

Nora: I like Bob. He's nice.

Nora: Yes he is. Very well mannered, and extremely focused on his duties. Did you know that Bob is the FIRST ever Grimm to earn a doctorate in Butler Sciences?

Nora: How did he do that? He couldn't have gone to a normal school.

Nora: Correspondence courses.

Nora: Makes sense.

Nora: Anyway, while we wait for refreshments, I shall continue...

"So trapped behind a magical barrier, unable to leave the girl suffered. Her father cold, and caring only of her as a possession to keep safe, locked away from the world. So she started to wither, and it was only through her nanny and the books did she know of the outside world."

"But her reading gave her a taste for life. A desire for adventure, and by accident she discovered she could send tings pass the barrier that kept her trapped inside. So armed with ink, quill and paper she convinced her father to allow her access to, she started to send messages... seeking someone to save her...."

Nora: Is there a point to this fairy-tale?

Nora: Yes, there is.

Nora: Can we just get to it? I appreciate the build-up and the attempt to get me interested, but you're me. You know.

Nora: Yeah, your right. Okay, so the TLDR is that Grandma-ma Salem was the girl in the Tower.

Nora: Is that true?

Nora: Yes.

Nora: Well if it is true, she looks astoundingly good for someone older than dirt!

Nora: Anyway the rest of the TLDR is that Ozpin the Headmaster is the reincarnated soul of her rescuer, lover and husband.

Nora: Okay?

Nora: They got married, he grew ill and died. She tried to cheat death by conning the brother Gods... it failed, and in a fit of depression she threw herself into a pool of grimm goo.

Nora: She obviously survived.

Nora: Yes. Anyway Ozama, which was Ozpin's original name came back and the two fell in love, had four beautiful daughters... but Salem wasn't happy. After all those years alone, watching humanity rebuild she grew just a tad power hungry... and decided the best way to help Remnant would be to rule it.

Nora: So Ozpin... er Ozma thought differently and they fought didn't they?

Nora: Yes, they did. Salem attacked Ozama when he tried to leave during the night with their daughters.

Nora: No...

Nora: It happened...

Nora: NO! THIS IS A STUPID STORY! I DON'T WANNA...

Nora: Nora... this is the main point... in that clash of magical energies, one of their children was flung through time... that girl was Jasmine, Jaune's mother...

Nora: Now I'm getting a headache. So Jaune's mom is Salem's real daughter, meaning Fearless Leader... MY Jaune-Jaune is directly related to the queen of the Grimm?

Nora: Yes.

Nora: Question?

Nora: Yes?

Nora: Is this a universal constant like us?

Nora: Yes, it is but the problem is Salem and Jasmine don't know the other is alive, so it takes... Outside forces to get them to connect.

Nora: Forces like US!

Nora: Exactly!

Nora: But how does this all work? Like Queen of the Grimm just giving up, because she has great-grand-babies?

Nora: Salem has eons to fester with guilt and regret. Finding Jasmine opens her wounds, allowing love to finally touch her heart, which you know as well as I do the Arc's are masters of showering someone with love.

Nora: I do.

Nora: So do you understand? The ned for you and Jaune to have children?

Nora: So Salem has something else to occupy her time?

Nora: No, to fill her life with a loving family that will withstand the tests and trials of time.

Nora:...

The library door opened and Bob the Beowulf entered pushing a cart loaded with sweet pastries, cookies and a steaming kettle of hot chocolate.

Nora: Thank you Bob. Can you go ask Salem to join us?

Bob just nodded and padded off, leaving the two alone.

Nora: Question, does Jaune know about any of this? Because this seems like a BIG deal, and Jaune should know about it. Like it's not everyday you find out you're directly related to the big bad who controls all the grimm in the world!

Nora: To be honest... I don't know if he does... but you're right he should.

Nora: You think we could do the whole snatch and talk to him here routine you've been using on me?

Nora: Don't see why not.

(Master List)

[bucky-fricking-barnes]

Until We Get Home

Title: Until We Get Home

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Verbal harassment and threats, language,  mentions of alcohol and drinking

Summary: It’s 2am and you should be in bed, but you’re on the subway instead. Unfortunately, so is your ex.

A/N: This is based on the song “Another New York Love Story” from the musical “In Pieces”. As always, thanks for supporting me in all the ways you do. Lots of love, and thank you for reading!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Tara had promised you that dinner wouldn’t be more than a few hours, especially since you’d worked all day and you have work again tomorrow. It would be a few drinks, some food, and then maybe a little bit of catching up if the restaurant wasn’t too packed. The restaurant is packed, but it’s packed when you get there, so your college friend makes the executive decision to move your shindig to the bar across the street. That bar turns out to be a club that’s equally as packed as the restaurant, but clubs are supposed to be packed, so no one complains. You don’t complain either, considering you haven’t seen Tara and the others for almost four years.

I should’ve complained, you think. Maybe only a little, though.

The stairs down to the station seem to be moving as you climb down in your suddenly precarious heels, and it takes you a second at the bottom to right yourself. Maybe you had one drink too many. Despite your giddiness at spending so much time with your friends, you’re exhausted. It’ll be okay, though, because it’s two in the morning. There’s bound to be plenty of open seats on the train, meaning that you won’t have to stand for a little while—fourteen stops, to be exact. You’ve got some time to sober up.

You swipe your metrocard and board the train as soon as it arrives, then plop yourself down into a seat. It’s one of the cars with two long rows of chairs separated by an aisle, and the rest of your row is empty. Only three other people are in the car, and all of them ignore you as you get on. The older woman down the way continues to knit in silence, and you spy an airpod tucked behind her hair. It looks like she’s making some kind of underwear, if you’re being honest. You try not to stare. 

A man a few seats down from you on the other side of the aisle stands grasping one of the metal poles. There’s nothing particularly interesting about him, but he looks about as tired as you feel. He stares out the window behind you at the station, then at the passing bricks and darkness when the train lurches into motion. The man sways a little as you move through the tunnels.

I’ll bet we all look like zombies right now. You half-heartedly try to fix your hair a little, but give up a minute later. It doesn’t really matter this early in the morning, anyway.

The third person is a young girl, young enough that your protective instincts kick. She’s hunched over in her seat with her bag in her lap, the picture-perfect vision of a girl who’s never ridden late at night before. She’s hyper vigilant and glances over when she feels your eyes on her. A pang of sympathy goes through you at the sight, and you make a mental note to make sure she stays unbothered while you’re riding.

Fourteen stops. No one gets on or off.

Thirteen stops. Still, no one gets on or off.

A few minutes later, the train slows to a stop at the next station. You look up from where you’ve been shuffling through the music on your phone, despite the fact that you’re just going to listen to the same song on repeat, then freeze as a new man enters the train. His stature is large, big enough to stand out in a crowd, but here on the train he seems like a behemoth.

Steve doesn’t take the subway, you think, but it’s definitely him. He’s wearing the same brown jacket and blue t-shirt that he wore on the first time he took you to Brooklyn, and though his golden hair is covered with a baseball cap and he’s got those stupid black-framed glasses on again, you’d know him anywhere.

The doors hiss shut as Steve takes one of the empty seats. He’s across the aisle from you, a few seats down but not as far as the woman knitting. Though he doesn’t look around, you know that he’s taking in his surroundings. He’s always hyper-aware of what’s around him.

There’s a book in his hand and you’re too far away to read the title, but you recognize the cover. It’s the one that you bought him from your favorite bookstore, the one that you still have a hard time going into because it makes you think of all the afternoons the two of you had spent wandering the aisles together.

Steve always said that New York was his city. It’s his home, his safe place, and his beating heart. Once, he’d told you that you were his beating heart. It’s hard to be in a city that reminds you so much of him. The pain never quite leaves, an ever-present ache in your chest as you go about your day. If you could break your lease, you’d leave, but that isn’t an option, at least right now. Instead, you’ve changed as much as you can. You don’t take the same routes to and from work anymore. You shop at a different grocery store, and you don’t eat Thai takeout from the place around the corner that he loves, no matter how many menus and coupons they put in the mailroom. Memories of him are in every monument, every crosswalk, and every tucked-away apartment. They come in on whispers of wind and the crash of trash cans outside your building, and they break your heart every single time.

As subtly as possible, you shift until you’re sitting at an angle, facing away from him. If you’re lucky, Steve won’t see your face and try to start a conversation. The two of you haven’t talked since he broke up with you in the lobby of the Avengers Tower months ago.

You’d come to bring him some lunch. He’d been on his way to tell you that he wasn’t ready for a relationship. While five months had been enough to make you certain that you could spend the rest of your life with him, it wasn’t enough for him. Steve’s words had cut deeper than any knife ever could. A small part of you wants to hit him in retaliation for the way he ended things, though you know your punch wouldn’t do much at all to him.

Only twelve stops, you tell yourself. You can do this. You can totally go unnoticed for twelve stops. Just sit very, very quietly.

The train starts moving again and you close your eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath. Thankfully, this car doesn’t smell as bad as some of the others you’ve been in. There’s movement in the aisle and you open your eyes to see the man approaching you. He’s leering, something between a creepy smile and sneer on his face, and you tense. You only have one earbud in, but even if you didn’t, you still would have been able to hear everything he says as he creeps towards you. It’s disgusting and your stomach churns. The girl down the way is watching with wide eyes and while you’re thankful it’s you and not her, you still don’t want to be in this situation.

He keeps his distance, thankfully, but he’s shouting at you in a way that makes you want to curl up and hide. His eyes are crazed as they look you up and down. 

“You whore! You can go back to wherever you came from! You’re not gonna get my money! You’re not going to get anything from me, not until the boss tells me you’re dead!”

You try your best to ignore him, fidgeting with the cord to your portable charger and clutching your bag in your lap. There’s pepper spray inside, but you’re not sure if that would help. You refuse the instinct to curl in on yourself. The best thing to do is to stay strong, to look tough.

“I’ll bet you’re gonna go home to the boss and tell him all the nasty things we did together! That’s right, tell him all the things you want to do to me. I’ll bet you're ready for a good lay, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Steve’s closing the distance between you now. His book has disappeared from his hand and his posture is undoubtedly less casual than when he’d been sitting in his seat. You hadn’t even realized that he was watching you, but you suppose that outbursts on an almost empty subway are hard to miss. Part of you is grateful that he’s stepping in, but a small part of you rises up, indignant, and insists that you could’ve handled it yourself. You’ve handled worse.

“That’s enough,” Steve firmly tells him, positioning himself between you and the man. He’s like a brick wall, and you relax a little in his shadow. You can’t even see past Steve’s figure, and if you’re being honest, you’re trying not to look. His ass is right in your face, and if you look too much, you’re bound to say something utterly embarrassing about it when this is all over.

“You should leave her alone.”

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?” the man taunts.

Steve draws himself up a little taller and you peek up to watch him remove the baseball cap and glasses. It only takes a second before the man retreats.

Captain America saves the day again.

Once the man is back on the other side of the train, Steve turns to you and you quickly look down before he can catch your eye. The screen of your phone is black now and your earbud has fallen out, sliding from your shoulder to your lap. Miraculously, it hasn’t fallen onto the floor of the train. You tuck it into your palm and make a fist.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice gentler. When you don’t answer, he tries again. “Y/N? Please just let me know if you’re okay.”

I don’t want to talk to you.

“I’m fine,” you finally respond. You force yourself to look up, unsure if you’re more grateful that he’s helped you or if you should roll your eyes at his inability to let someone else take over. Steve never was one to back down from a fight, even when it’s not his own.

He nods. “Good. I’m glad.” Steve pauses, grabbing onto one of the horizontal bars for balance as the train sways. “How have you been?”

You hold back a groan. Of course he wants to small talk. 

“Okay. How about you?” you ask, not really wanting to hear his answer.

Please don’t say that you’ve been good, you tell him in your head.

He holds your gaze for a second before looking away, nodding a little bit more than necessary. “Good. I’ve, uh, I’m okay, too.”

He replaces his glasses and the hat before grabbing onto the bar again. You shift awkwardly in your seat and glance over at the girl. She’s watching the man warily, but the train stops again and he makes a quick escape. The girl relaxes, and so do you.

You glance up at the map as the announcements play in the car. Eight more stops to go. 

“Why are you out this late?” Steve’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you look up at him from your seat. “You’re usually in bed at this time of night.”

“I went out for dinner with some friends,” you answer.

“Not Natasha?” Steve replies, like he already knows the answer, and you shake your head.

“Tara,” you tell him. “Lindsay and Mallory were there, too. Lizzy was supposed to come, but she got sick and decided to stay back at the hotel.”

Steve looks surprised. “You haven’t seen them in years. Why are they in town? Did you get to meet Mallory’s daughter?”

He remembers that she had a baby?

It takes you a second to process his questions. While Steve remembers a lot, it’s strange that he’d remember such specific details about your friends, especially after so long. It’s not important information. You’re certain that you only mentioned them a few times in the months you dated. You and your college friends don’t keep up except to send each other funny posts and videos.

“Um, no,” you stammer after a second, knowing that it’s been a little too long of a pause. You’ve made things awkward. “No, her husband stayed home with the baby while she’s in town. They have concert tickets for tomorrow, but they all flew in a day early to do some sightseeing. They asked if I wanted to go out to dinner after I got off work.”

Nodding, Steve searches your face, and you feel your cheeks warm under his steady gaze. You shift in your seat again, adjusting your grip on the earphone in your hand just to give yourself something to do.

“You look good, Y/N. Work’s going okay?”

You nod back and glance at the floor. There’s gum everywhere. Someone’s left a styrofoam takeout container underneath a seat.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s good. Yours is good too, from what I hear.”

His expression is neutral when you finally look up again. “I’m not dead yet,” he tells you. “That’s normally a good sign.”

You could get lost in his eyes. How is it that it’s been months and you’re still able to be drawn in so quickly? Steve has the kind of face that comforts, that reassures. You love that about him. It soothes your soul a little and washes away the last dredges of fear the man’s harassment had brought on.

You’ve been staring too long, your brain helpfully chimes. He’s just being friendly. Small talk and public relations are a part of his job.

You blink, then look back over at the map above the windows opposite you. “So where are you headed?” you ask. 

“Manhattan,” Steve answers. When you look back at him, you get the answer to your next questions without even having to ask. You’re both getting off at the same stop, just like you always used to when he came to pick you up from work.

Clearing your throat, you look back down at your locked phone. “Right.”

Only three more stops. That’s not as long as it feels like.

Down the train, the girl grabs her backpack and exits the train. The doors hiss shut a moment later, and when you look up, you realize that the other woman has left, too. It’s just you and Steve on the train in the early hours of the day.

You swallow thickly and wrack your brain for something else to say. All you can come up with is, “It’s been pretty cold lately.”

Steve is quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I think Nat said something about it snowing this weekend.”

You nod and try not to fidget, try not to look nervous. Why is he still standing so close?

“She’ll like that,” you reply.

He nods again. “Yeah.” Steve pauses. “Tony won’t, though. He hates the snow.”

You nod again, then curse yourself for nodding so much. How many times has that been? You haven’t looked up in a while, should you look up again?

“So where did you have dinner tonight?” he asks.

“What?”

“You said you went out to dinner.”

“Oh. Right.” You look up, and when he doesn’t say anything more, you realize he’s still expecting an answer. “Oh. Um, well, we were going to go to this one place—Rio? But it was too busy, so we went to the bar across the street. Well, it’s more of a club than anything.”

Steve leans against the pole next to him, one hand still holding onto the railing above him. “Tuscano, right? I’ve been there.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’ve been to a club?”

“It wasn’t so bad,” he answers, though there’s a hint of a blush on his cheeks. When your expression doesn’t change, he explains, “It was Tony’s birthday a few weeks ago. He insisted we go to as many clubs as possible in one night—something about him and Pepper taking a break? We were only there for twenty minutes, I think, but it was long enough.”

Nodding, you relax and smile a little at the mental image of Steve standing in Tuscano. “Sounds like a fun night.”

“Something like that. I think I’ve been to Rio, too. It’s not too crowded if you go for lunch.”

Steve carries on the conversation like it’s easy. It probably is. He’s friendly in a way that reminds you a little too much of how he talks with strangers and fans. He doesn’t once ask you anything too personal, nor does he bring up anything about your last interactions or the months you dated. It stings, thinking that you mattered nothing to him in retrospect, but when he glances out the window at the second-to-last stop, you catch a glimpse of something you hadn’t noticed before—sadness.

You recognize it immediately. You’ve seen that same look in your eyes every time you’ve looked in the mirror since Steve broke up with you. You feel it every time you pass by the bookshop or hear about him and the other heroes on the news or in conversation. Every time you pass by the corner deli he likes or the vintage candy store, you think of him, and it twists the knife just a little.

A small part of yourself asks, “What if he misses you just as much as you miss him?,” but you’re too afraid to entertain that thought for long. You want to tell him. You want to tell Steve everything, starting with how much you miss him, but you can’t. That wouldn’t be fair—not to him, and definitely not to you. You’re working hard to recover from being disposed of, and another rejection could be the final blow. You push the thoughts away, willing yourself not to speak up.

The two of you ride in silence until your stop, and you follow Steve off the train and up the stairs without a word. When you reach the sidewalk, you get out of the flow of traffic and stand together, both of you with your hands in your jacket pockets. It’s strange to be standing here with him again, but you don’t want to leave yet, and you busy yourself by glancing at your phone to see if you have any missed calls. You don’t, but your music has been playing this whole time. You wonder if Steve could hear it the whole time.

Silently, you pause the song and unplug the portable charger, then tuck your earphone into its case. Steve watches you as you arrange your belongings.

“Y/N…”

“Whatever you’re about to say,” you say, stopping him before he can go any further, “Please just know that you… I’m having a really hard time with this.” You gesture between the two of you and break eye contact, knowing that you won’t be able to hold his gaze while you say this. You inhale deeply through your nose and close your eyes for a second before focusing yourself on a building across the street. “I can’t have my heart broken again by you, Steve. It was too hard the first time, and I’m still getting over it.”

Strangers walk past as you blink away tears. The light turns red and cars roll to a stop. Somewhere down the street, a siren wails. Footsteps sound in chorus all around you in the city that never sleeps, though a hush has fallen over the sleeping public, as if the world is holding its breath just for a moment.

“Me too,” Steve says. “And I’m sorry.”

You sniffle. “What?”

“Can I walk you home?” he asks. “It would make me feel better to know you got home safely after what happened on the train.”

You pause, taken aback by the question, but after a few seconds, you nod and wipe your eyes, a little embarrassed. 

Steve moves forward and you turn around, naturally falling into step beside him as he heads towards your apartment building. The sidewalks are less crowded than normal, but you walk together in silence, side-by-side, until you reach the door to the building’s mailroom. It takes all your willpower not to reach out and take his hand as you walk.

”I’m sorry for what I said. I was… I was scared and I panicked, and that’s not an excuse, but I didn’t think I was ready to be in a relationship. I’m in love with you, Y/N, and that scared me. I didn’t think that I should fall as hard and as fast as I did for you. It felt too dangerous, but now I realize that it wasn’t a bad thing. Being with you feels like being home, and that’s something I’ve been searching for for a long time,” Steve says.

You shake your head a little. “What?”

He searches your face, mouth gaping a little, before finally answering with, “I’m in love with you.”

“But you broke up with me,” you say, feeling a bit lost. It’s like he’s taken the script in your head and completely flipped it upside down. What are you supposed to say?

“I know,” he replies. Steve looks down at his shoes and rubs the back of his neck. “Y/N, I— I’m sorry. I don’t think anything I could ever do will make up for what I said and what I did, but I want to try.”

You press your lips together and look over at the glass door that leads inside. You could go. It would be easy to leave him standing outside your building, and you know that if you told Steve to never talk to you again, he’d listen. You’d never hear from him ever again. A tiny voice tells you to do that, to pull away from him before he inflicts even more pain.

He kisses you on the cheek.

Your eyes fly to his, and there’s guilt flooding the blue that’s always been a safe haven to you.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

You shake your head. You’re not angry. You’re…

“I love you too.” The words you’ve wanted to say for so long are finally out in the open, hanging between you in the night air.

“You do?” he asks, and you nod.

“I do.”

A smile appears on his face, your heart settles a little in your chest, and then you realize what it is that you’re feeling.

I’m home, you think, and you smile back.

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

I do not consent to have my work posted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere other than my personal tumblr, Patreon, or ao3 accounts, it has been reposted without my permission.

If you want to support me further, consider buying me a ko-fi! My ko-fi is also under my SPN fanfiction blog, but I promise it’s me.

If you would like to be added to my tags, please send me a message or an ask! I tag for Everything, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson, and Peter Parker.

Forever Tags: @aya-fay​​​

Steve Rogers Tags: @lipstickandvibranium​​ @delicatecapnerd​​

[lionlena]

Why I think Fireflies are DUMB and Marlene is cruel

I re-watched episode 9 and this scene caught my attention

Okay, I know Marlene said the patrol didn't know them, but their behavior is still stupid to me. They didn't know it was Joel... Yes, that JOEL (damn dangerous dude). What did they see? The girl and probably her dad in the open space and yet they decided to waste the stun grenade launcher.

I'm assuming this isn't something you can buy on ebay in post-apocalyptic times. So? What should they do? They have the upper hand, they're obscured, they've got guns, and these two can't see them. In addition, Joel is not holding a gun in his hands, but has it slung over his shoulder. It would be enough to fire a warning shot in the air and shout: "Stop! You are surrounded! Put your hands up! Tell me who you are and what you are looking for!"

Is it really that hard? I'm under the impression that it is because fireflies are untrained and unorganized. I saw a similar situation in episode 7. Seriously, didn't any of the fireflies (with more than two brain cells) say, "Hey, this young girl with no experience is supposed to guard the warehouse by herself? Maybe someone older and more experienced should be with her? You know, so she doesn't do anything stupid. Like she don't go to quarantine zone and go get friend? I'm just saying"

I know FEDRA is evil anyway, but the fireflies will never defeat them. Why? Because FEDRA has a structure, a hierarchy and they are organized.

And now Marlene... She is surprised that Joel made it to their base. “We lost half our crew crossing the country. I had five men whose only job was to protect me. I still nearly died. How did you do that?"

My assumptions are that Marlene may have assumed Ellie was already dead. How long has it been since she last saw her? Four months? Half a year? She couldn't be 100% sure that Joel wouldn't abandon Ellie. Don't get me wrong. I love Joel. I love what a great father he is to Ellie, but Marlene didn't know that. To her, Joel was a smuggler who was supposed to smuggle Ellie in exchange for a reward. Any other smuggler would have decided after a week that all the hard work wasn't worth it. So what am I aiming for? I don't think Marlene was prepared for Ellie's arrival. The fireflies and the doctors weren't prepared either. The entire laboratory facilities were probably not prepared (assuming there were any at all some laboratory). And yet Marlene decided to kill Ellie. She didn't want to spend even one day with her friend's daughter. Why? Because she is cruel and blindly believes in something that has no logical or scientific basis. She stubbornly wants to save a world that no longer exists and that will never exist again.

And she's also cruel to Joel. She says, "I owe you a favor. We all are." And yet she denies him the most basic thing, which is goodbye. Anyone who, like me, has lost a loved one without being able to say goodbye to them knows how painful it is.

And she's also cruel to Anna. She promised her that she would take care of the baby, and what she did... 1/ She gave Ellie to FEDRA 2/ She gave Ellie to Joel Again, I love Joel, but to Marlene Joel  is a cruel, brutal, heartless smuggler. 3/ She gave Ellie to a doctor who shouldn't even be called a doctor (Hippocratic Oath says something to someone? "Primum non nocere") Probably this doctor could have been blind, deaf, and paralyzed in his right arm, and Marlene would have agreed to the operation anyway.

She says: Our doctor thinks... Thinks? what the fuck? He should be sure. IN 100%. Because if it's true and Ellie is the only chance to create a cure, then you can't assume anything... YOU HAVE TO BE SURE OF IT

But the peak of her cruelty for me are these words: I do understand. I am the only one who understands...

How dare you? How fucking dare you say that! You don't understand anything!!! You didn't lose your baby. For twenty years you haven't had the same nightmare that one day became true again. You don't know what it's like to be a parent again. You don't know what Ellie's been through. You didn't see her fear, her tears, her laughter. You weren't with her the first time she drove the car, the first time she slept in the woods, the first time she saw a giraffe.

you know nothing jon snow

Ok, and back to fireflies and their stupidity again.

If Ellie was so important. Why was the operating room so poorly protected? At least three soldiers should stand by the doctor and not move even when they hears shots.

But again they showed their disorganization. Why? Perhaps the biggest mistake is not having the right leader. Imagine if someone like Joel was their leader. Someone who always expects the worst. Someone who thinks first and then acts.

That's why fireflies are stupid to me. Because first they act (throw a grenade, carry out an operation... they hand over the children to a smuggler) and only then... wait... No, they don't think. They only act.

And what do they get in return? Angry Joel in killer mode :D So seriously. It wasn't even Joel's fault. The fireflies asked for it.

[batteryrose]

ULTIMATE ADAM LORE DOCUMENT

This ones gonna be a doozy (I AM NOT KIDDING. THIS IS A LONG LONG POST), and you may call me insane afterwards, but anyway,

This one's for the Adam likers out there that may want to know more about him. I have a longfic in the works, but well, let's be honest, that thing's not gonna get finished any time soon :) so, if you'd like to know the Deep Lore this is the post where I summarizes everything that's living inside my head.

Hopefully you've heard of Adam before or this post might not make a whole lot of sense, but I try my best........

the Yashpari

Referring to an ethnic group of people living around the Obsidian grasslands.

Yashpar is their land's name in their own language. Other countries call the area ‘Jasper.’

The land is very important to Obsidian for having very rich and fertile 'black earth' (coloured deep green here. I’d imagine Jade has most of it). The Yashpari tribespeople farm and raise livestock instead of living nomadically.

The ethnic group might have originated from somewhere distant south.

They're known for their art, including textiles art, music, and many kinds of dances and performances. 

The tribe survives because they were willing to submit to Obsidian instead of engaging in a losing war against them.

Leading up to the war with Rhodolite, they’ve been depleted of resources and morale, among other things, and were starting to rebel harder against their occupiers. 

Obsidian had turned one of their older settlements into a small town and military fortress near Rhodolite.

Mochammad Adam Kain: Background

He is the son of a Rhodolitian noble and a widowed Yashpari elder.

His father was very sympathetic to the tribe’s fight against Obsidian and was directly supporting it.

To weaken the family’s power, the local Obsidian nobles and military needed to create a rift between the family members.

Marquis Kain’s family

(old art, sorry lol)

The marquis married the widow out of genuine love. She has had two daughters with her previous husband (who was the village chief/elder/whatever.)

They live separately, with the marquis travelling back and forth constantly between Rhodolite and Yashpar. The two places are at least a day apart. 

Together they had four more children: three sons and a daughter. Adam is the eldest son, followed by his younger-by-a-year brother, Ajisaka (can also be spelled as ‘Adjisaka’.) I’ll be focusing on them two for now.

Adam and Adji

They're opposites personality-wise. Adam is the quieter kid, less out-spoken, and he was able to learn to read, write, and understand different languages faster. He quickly became his father’s favourite. 

Ajisaka is the louder one of the bunch, and he grew up to be quite charismatic. He is well respected amongst the Yashpari youth. Adam didn't have the same popularity!

The Obsidian military were recruiting young Yashpari boys. They saw potential in these siblings. Potentially also turning them against their own father.

Adam received a military education, and when he got older, a position as a low-ranking officer.

They could groom Adam into their side much more easily than they could Ajisaka. Adji joined the revolutionary fervour. His gang of violent youths harassed Obsidian forces often, which eventually became a big nuisance. He came to be known as a notorious brute.

The brothers don't really get along. They think the other one is stupider. The family was torn, and while they were originally well respected by the Yashpari people, the sons' actions polarised them. 

During and after the war with Rhodolite, Marquis Kain couldn't travel across the border and into the village anymore. 

Adam: Upbringing 

As a kid he was seen as sort of meek and 'feminine.' He didn't have many great friends. Otherwise, he was very smart.

He was always in charge of taking care and watching over his younger siblings.

Knowing different languages got him able to speak and negotiate out of trouble. Specifically troubles with the Obsidian people. 

He was a bit of a pushover. When hanging out with Adji's friends they liked to embarrass him. 

He often watches over his little sister playing with her friends instead…

He only started gaining friends, respect, and confidence in the military environment. He mingled well with fellow Yashpari soldiers there.

Yashpari people that served in Obsidian Military

Older Yashpari people are usually here because they were paying a debt to the (Obsidian) government, paying a fine, or were otherwise poor and in desperate conditions. Leading up to the war, many younger boys were conscripted.

Adam met Suraya here, an old private. 

Adam also was able to hang out with the Obsidianite soldiers. 

Boys will be boys…he might’ve even fallen in love with one of the younger officers.

He actually liked it here. At this point, he's a bit alienated from his family. Though his father still writes to him. 

Additional character: Suraya

(She shows up in the On Violence longfic)

She and many others like her were a demographic of, what you could probably call 'drag performers.' They perform Yashpari dances and theatrical plays as women.

These sort of traditional performances were popular amongst the Obsidianite elite, but at some point in the past they were banned from being performed openly. 

Some of them got convinced to serve in the military and make a decent living after their livelihood was taken away. 

Suraya served since way before the war with Rhodolite. She was proficient in the bow and arrow, and eventually the arquebus, and the musket rifle. 

Many of her friends had died, but she stuck around in the military. 

Adam is technically above her in rank but she's a mentor to him.

The reason she stuck around is… she has a 'hobby' for injuring many of Obsidian's own officers and soldiers without getting caught. Mainly by aiming from a great distance. 

She will get caught eventually, though she's able to run away.

If asked about her gender she would say "I live in the woods, I don't know." Adam would say "well, she mostly lives as the 'old woman living in the woods', so."

In writing I would refer to her with she/they pronouns. Adam exclusively refers to her with she.

The battle with Rhodolite, or the 'Bloodstained Rose Day':

At that point Adam would be around 17 years old, and he was placed in the position of a second lieutenant (lowest ranking officer.) 

Adam had to lead his Yashpari comrades into the frontlines. He even personally witnessed Chevalier and Co. doing their thing. 

He had noticed that the Yashpari troops were constantly getting pushed into the very front of the line with little to no backup, and they were getting killed off very quickly.

He caused confusion in the army because he wouldn't let more people go forward. They had to be forced to go with it by the higher ups. 

Obsidian lost, and Yashpari had great losses and casualties. Adam was quite lucky to survive. 

Him and the survivors were disillusioned with the military after the battle. Morale was on an all time low. They staged a mutiny. Just wanted to raid the military supplies for all the food and booze and whatever. Stick it up to the big guys. 

The higher ups found out what the sentiments amongst the troops were. They singled Adam out as the cause of these ideas, due to his actions in the battlefield.

To further humiliate him they dragged out his relationship with the young Obsidianite officer into light.

His was accused of ‘acting indecent’ towards the officer. He was publicly punished to both discourage the rebels from acting out and to likely ruin his reputation amongst them. 

They also wipe out his records from the books, pretending he never existed, to protect the officer's reputation.

'Death'

Just for a clue, the punishment was what gave him those scars on his back.

The military didn’t take care of him after and left him gravely injured. Pretty much leaving him to die. 

There was a lot of uncertainty and rumours. People, including his family, thought Adam was dead. 

Despite their relationship and the shame, Ajisaka wanted to look for him anyway, or at the very least get to the bottom of it all. 

He and his gang made a lot of ruckus. Harassing the fortress, taking in mutinied soldiers, etc.

(Suraya (still acting like a loyal soldier) got caught shooting into her own army in this event. From here on out she's a fugitive living in the woods.) 

In the end, Obsidian baited Adji inside with a fake rumour regarding Adam's whereabouts. Of course, he just got captured as a result.

They exiled him somewhere instead of killing him to still keep a semblance of good relations with the Kains.

Although, most people just assumed that he's also dead. 

(Adam was only saved by Suraya. She brought him to hide with her somewhere within the woods bordering Jade.)

The rest of the Kains

After the events of the battle, Adam's mother, sisters and youngest brother were still living within the fortressed town. Obsidian were willing to pretend that they have some sort of authority, but in all honestly, they're just being held hostage.

Obsidian was still recovering from the war, they don't want the Marquis attempting anything.

Mission?

Adam can't live easy until he could get the rest of his family out of there. His life purpose is pretty simple from here on out.

Adam and Adji: working together

Adam found out what happened to Adji. He contacted his father, because there's nothing else he can do.

His father sent a lot of people to look for Adji and any information about him. This caught Rhodolite's attention a little. (What's he doing sending out people to Obsidian…) 

Months and months of searching and they found him in the northern mountains. The brothers reunite. Adji thought it's all basically Adam's fault, but, well, they're too tired to fight it out. And the cold kinda mellowed him out anyway.

Fortunately, some of his old gang members were still alive and kicking, spread apart in hiding. They managed to rebuild, and they operate outside of the fortress, keeping their bases near Jade's border. 

Adam, meanwhile, was still presumed dead by most of the public and he wants to keep it that way. 

(this is why in On Violence the Rhodolite princes couldn't find any information about him.)

Adam knows that there's no chance he and Ajisaka's people alone could attack Obsidian successfully with what they currently have, so they needed… something.

Getting weapons

At this point, it had been years since the war with Rhodolite. In a brief moment of weakness, Adam reconnected with his old friend from the army.

(the boyfriend that got him in trouble.)

The young man had long gone home and retired from the army. They never heard from each other until now. Adam sent him a letter.

He was quite happy seeing Adam basically risen from the dead. Or terrified. One of the two.

Adam comes to find out that his friend's family had ties to Obsidian's weapon manufacturing companies, particularly, their distribution company. 

He also comes to find out that love is… very easy to take advantage of and manipulate.

(Gilbert somewhere in the distance, saying again ‘we’re not so different after all’ :') )

Adam slowly convinced his friend to pull some strings, and now, more weapons were going to be sent to the Rhodolite-Obsidian border, especially the fortresses.

Ajisaka dealt with the extraction. This is a shockingly successful arrangement, and eventually, they ended up with a big surplus of weapons and ammunition on their hands. Unfortunately with increasingly less space to hide them. They also can't use them themselves all willy nilly. 

Adam hatched a plan. 

Working with Rhodolite (the beginning of 'On Violence')

Marquis Kain soon died of natural causes. This forced Adam's plan to run earlier than intended. 

They deliberately buried his father deep into Yashpar lands, gaining the attention of his father's Rhodolitian family, who wanted him resting close to home. 

Conflict between the marquis' soldiers (now controlled by Adam's uncle) and Ajisaka's men sparked. It was a minor battle, happened way out of Obsidian’s watchful gaze. 

Ajisaka got away without much casualties, however, Adam gave himself over to Rhodolite. 

The events of 'On Violence' began.

His plan:

Rhodolite managed to defeat Obsidian in the past, but now they’re still gearing up in case there will be another attempt of invasion. Adam wants to take advantage of this. He is willing to arm Rhodolite with his stolen weapons, and in exchange, Rhodolite will use their army to take over Obsidian’s fortress. Technically a win-win for both sides.

Getting his family out is the priority. Unfortunately, he does not think of anything else.

Ideally every Yashpari folk should gain freedom and asylum in Rhodolite until everything is settled.

Adam and Nokto :

Nokto wants to dig up most of this information about Adam to make sure he's not an Obsidian psy-op or something. Adam wants Nokto and ultimately Rhodolite to obey him as much as possible. Of course, only with subtle ways and manipulation, otherwise it wouldn't work. 

Somewhere along the way they sympathise with each other more than they expected. 

I'd like to think Adam's objectives are successful eventually, and in all the one-shot fic I make they're both just goofing around after everything is over :} Everything is nice and cozy, and nothing went wrong at all! I swear to God

PHEW. THAT'S IT. I left things out on purpose. You’re welcome to assume your own interpretations. Or, if you want, you can also wait as I Begrudgingly finish my long-fic that will Definitely take Forever (or at least read the available chapters first). You can also ask about more things in the comments bellow or through my ask box! (I turned off anon for personal reasons though, sorry about that)

[lahotelbellamuerte]

𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐎𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐧- floor three. eight's blind shadow

series masterlist ! current: eight's blind shadow ! next: men in suits could be a kink...right?

pairing; no exact pairs as of yet warnings; suggestive language, phoenix's intro! not proofread! word count; 6.2k notes; none!

DOPPELGANGER /NOUN/ AN APPARITION OR DOUBLE OF A LIVING PERSON. 

FIVE COULDN'T BELIEVE HIS EYES AT THE SIGHT. This woman was exactly the same looking as his wife, just a few minor details were off. Bright dark purple hair and tattoos littered her arms. Not to forget the round red-tinted glasses covering her eyes. 

The girl crossed her arms and rose a brow, "Well I don't have all day? Either tell me your business or get the hell out," she spoke then pointing from the way they came from. 

Chris and Klaus made their way towards the purple-haired girl, as Five could do anything. He was frozen in shock. 

"Woah, you look just like Ellie," Klaus dragged a  smile on his face as he glanced at the girl, "Not gonna lie, you do look cooler than she did," he finished with a giggle. 

The girl sighed and wiped her hands on her shorts, "Name your business," she asked once more turning her head in the direction where they all stood.  

Before any of the Hargreeves could do anything Chris stepped forward, "Okay, look we were sent here by someone, and we need your help, Phoenix?" 

The purple-haired girl rolled her eyes, "That's a nickname, but you can call me that," she paused her eyes head moving towards the young man, "Who sent you here?" 

"Eight Hargreeves," Five replied before Chris even had a chance. 

Phoenix pause her stone demeanor and clenched her jaw, "Come with me," she then said and began walking away from the bikes, "Eight is a name I haven't heard in a long time, especially with the last name Hargreeves." 

"How many Eight's do you know?" Klaus wondered aloud, the others ignoring his words. 

Five then scoffed, "So you did know Eight," he asked, "Why'd you act stupid when I said the name?" 

The bright-haired girl just rolled her eyes, but they didn't know that. Instead, she continued walking around the building towards another small one beside it. Most likely her office.

Five rose a brow as he watched her have her hand out, almost as if feeling where the door knob was. But rather than point it out he ignored it.  As the four walked in, they couldn't help but be in awe of the room. 

The room had plenty of plants with large windows, some hanging from the ceiling while others huddled in the corners of the room. A large brown desk sat on one end with a computer and a chair. While plenty of bookshelves surrounded the walls of the room. Each one was filled with a variety of books. Most of them seemed to be thicker than most average books. 

Five watched as she walked to a shelf brushing her fingers on the spine, and pulled out a pale green book, "I didn't know Eight as you do, or never did anyway," she started moving to sit at her desk. 

"I met her when I was around six years old," she started opening the book and pulling out a couple picture, "She had looked like this when I met her," she paused and slid it over. 

The time traveler picked up the photo and realized it was a younger version of his wife. The photo was taken when they still were a part of the Commission. It was either during or after a mission she decided to jump through time and find another version of herself. 

The teen looked up at her, "What did she tell you?" he simply asked. 

Phoenix intertwined her hands and leaned forward, "Not much, she just mentioned sometime in the future when I'm older she would need my help. Someone would be coming to me," she paused and moved her hand to move them, "And I'm guessing you are that someone." 

"Did she mention what you would be doing?" Chris asked crossing his arms. 

The girl shifted her head towards him, "She did, but don't ask, because I swore to not speak a word," she paused and wondered where the older woman was, "Where even is she?"  

"Dead," Five simply replied, not wanting to talk to a stranger about his wife. Even if that said stranger had her face. 

The girl nodded and pursed her lips, "Ah, so it begins." 

Five rose a brow at the response, "What is that supposed to mean?" 

"Not sure if the old lady ever explained to you our unique situation," she started looking at their confused faces, "And from those looks, I'm assuming she didn't," the girl concluded, then sighed leaning back into her chair, "In the vast universe that we exist in, there are timelines, ones where we exist or don't.

"And in this one, I could feel you don't belong, based on the fact that I live here, that means Eight didn't," she continued watching as their faces listened intently—well except Klaus who didn't look too interested in the conversation, "Well, in these thousands and millions of timelines, the entity that exists in Eight and myself—resides only is us. Two versions of us exist." 

The time traveler was smart, but this was slowly becoming more than him, "What do you mean only two?" 

The girl shrugged, "Not sure, maybe the universe knew to not create vast energy holders like us. We were born with abilities nobody should ever want. I alone could destroy existence as we know it. I'm sure you've seen glimpses of what the old lady could do," she continued as she looked at the males before her, "If more existed who knows? Would one of us have blood thirst and destroy everyone? Maybe that's why your old lady came by all those years ago, to make sure I didn't become the evil version of her." 

Klaus then was confused, "How did you know we have powers too?" 

Phoenix deadpanned, "While Eight may have been a brilliant woman and thought ten steps ahead, I was blessed to have a tighter hold on my abilities," she paused and without moving the room had a small glow of gold, "Around you is a pulse that feeds into the air that is different than others, yours feels different," she said pointing at the small glowing beads around them. 

The three looked around and true to her word, the small beads flickered around them, "Yours flickers a little weaker, so I'm guessing it's weaker," she motioned to Chris. 

The boy looked up and indeed his were orange, "Yeah, Eight had gifted it to me before her passing." 

Klaus rose a brow, "It's also Orange why don't you point that out lady? That's easier," he huffed trying to catch one of the beads.

The purple-haired girl sighed and stood from her desk, moving her hand to take off her glasses, "I'm blind idiot, I don't see color," she finished with an unamused glance. 

The three men in the room all stood silent as they glanced over to see her pale emotionless eyes, "Anyways, what are your names before we go," she asked putting on her glasses again.  

Chris smiled, "I'm Chris, the one that looks high is Klaus, and he's another timeline you's husband, Five," the boy pointed at each one. 

Five didn't miss the twitch of her lips when Chris mentioned his name. He wouldn't ask about it while his stupid brother and Chris who was just there. He didn't trust this chick for a minute, "When were you born?" he then asked stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

The girl smiled, "October first, 1989," she replied just as quickly. 

Five stepped closer to the woman, "Eight looked like she was eighteen when she died because of a miscalculation, how do you look the same if you were born thirty-one years ago?" he hissed getting face to face with her, "I don't trust you one bit." 

Phoenix just smirked, "Obviously I knew how to handle my powers better than your wife did, I traveled through time a lot in my lifetime boy genius . I'm just a very experienced eighteen-year-old," stepping closer, so that they were face to face, "You may not trust me, but your little wife did," she hissed. 

Now, violence is never the answer, no matter the genre or situation. But at this moment Five was a pent-up teenager, who had not only been stuck fixing the world twice but lost his wife to a knife. He didn't care who the fuck this Phoenix was, no one talked shit about his wife, whether dead or alive. The teen rose his fists before he could even think about what he was doing. 

But like Phoenix said, she was a much more experienced user with her ability. She didn't even need the vision to know how to use it, before the time traveler could tell, he was on his knees. Facing up at the girl in the red glasses, "Don't think for a second you'll lay a hand on me, Five Hargreeves, because the next time you do, I'll make sure you join your wife," she threatened, her dark red energy floating around him. Then released him from her hold and moved on to look at the others with a smile. 

"Well, let's hit the road shouldn't we," she chirped and walked out the door the other dumbfounded duo following behind in shock. 

Five released a breath and looked up to the ceiling, "God Eight, who'd you leave me with," he sighed and reluctantly followed the trio. Now noticing she had a duffle bag in hand. 

Klaus clapped, "Yes, now it's my turn for the trip, get ready for a good one!" he celebrated by getting into the car. 

Chris and Phoenix sat in the back while the Hargreeves sat in the front. The curly-haired man waved at all the buff biker men in the shop's driveway. The purple-haired girl cringed at the smiles he threw at the men that worked with her. 

As they were on the road, she couldn't help but snort when she realized, "We're in Australia, Klaus, we drive on the left," she drawled her accent thick sounding. 

The man served the car harshly, "How do you even know that you can't see," he replied with a snort. 

 "You're an idiot," Five sighed glaring at the outside, "You can't just say things like that." 

Phoenix rolled her eyes again at the driving, "Is what you're searching for in Australia?" she asked leaning forward, her lips closer to Five's ear. The boy hated that he felt goosebumps rise on the right side of his face. 

Chris sat up, "Oh right I need to get us back," he replied getting ready to portal them back.  "Let me be the guest," she replied and with a wave of her fingers, the car and everyone broke apart as sand. Then a second later regrouped to become whole again, back on the highway Chris had disappeared from. 

Chris rolled down his window and threw up, "Holy shit," he gasped coughing, "That was the weirdest feeling I've ever had," he finished then shivered. 

Klaus was stuck frozen as he drove back to the right side of the road, the appearance then not had been way too fast for anyone to realize. 

Five didn't say anything, but he knew he still didn't trust that woman sitting in the back seat. So he didn't say much and just laid back on the seat, and thought about what Chris and Eight had in store for him. 

On the long road, much more green covered the rads, as Klaus the Seance drove. Phoenix lay back on the seat, just enjoying the drive and listening to the two Hargreeves bicker. 

Music softly playing the background as she listened in. Every once in a while feeling blue eyes linger on her showing skin. It was warranted that she often received lingering stares from men, and Five was just a man that seemed to like what he saw. 

She knew he was beating himself about it. After all, she did look like his late wife, just hotter. At least that's what she thought. It's not that she could completely tell what she looked like. 

"This actually isn't so terrible," Five sighed lifting his head from the headrest, his eyes then flickering to the rearview mirror to the purple-haired girl. 

Klaus smiled and looked over at his younger-older brother, "See, I told you, we even found friends on the way," he replied sipping his drink. 

Five sighed it was starting to feel lonely, the forever warmth he felt inside seemed to fade. Eight for the longest time was the thing that kept him going. Now, that she was gone, what was he supposed to do?

"Come to think of it, my whole life I've been under the gun. Missions for dad, working for the Commission, trying to survive the apocalypse," he paused to look down at his ringed finger, "And to think Eight was there for all of it. Advising me for what's best, who's supposed to help me now?"

The Seance nodded, "Ellie was good for you, but hey you just have to get out there again. I'm sure some other lass will love you like Ellie. You get to breathe now Little Five." 

"Oh! All right!" The teen exclaimed jolting the girl in the back from her short nap. 

"Jesus old man, keep it down will you," she mumbled rubbing her tired eyes under her glasses awake. 

Five turned his head and glared, "As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted," he said with an annoyed tone, "So, I've circled all the roadside attractions along the way," he said reaching forward to bring out a huge map with small circles. 

Klaus looked over and furrowed his brows, "I'm not sure we're gonna have time..." he tried to say but Five just continued going. 

"We have the Brownsville Big Nickle," he started, "Oh, Ricky's Bakery has award-winning pies..." he continued to ramble. 

The Seance began to feel a little worried about his brother getting the wrong idea, "If you let me explain.." he tried to cut in once more. 

Phoenix rolled her eyes, "You Americans with your tourism," the girl drawled, "This is why the rest of the world doesn't like you," she mumbled loudly enough that Klaus and Chris snorted. 

Five snapped his head to face the girl, "Will you shut the fuck up, I don't trust or like you, so be a good girl and zip it," he hissed glaring at the bright hair girl. 

She only smirked at the teen, "Bite me," she replied and bit the air lowering her glasses to throw a wink toward him. 

He only huffed and turned around back to Klaus, "Look we could have so many stops—" 

"Listen to me. Just shut up for two seconds, okay? Just two seconds? All right?" Klaus then added before he could ramble on about more tourist stops. 

The time traveler just nodded and folded his map, "Okay I'm all ears," he replied and turned his body to face his brother.

In a hopeful and slow voice, he stated, "We are going to Pennsylvania to find, my birth mother. Yay!" he quickly finished turning to celebrate. 

"Excuse me?" Five asked furrowing his brows, was he just now lied to? He wasn't honestly that surprised, it was Klaus for Pete's sake. It was only a matter of time before something happened to him. 

He was already annoyed with the teen in the back seat, who just happened to be naturally beautiful. Her pretty thighs, tan from the sun most likely, inked arms littered with beautiful designs, the shorts and tank top weren't helping his situation all that much. If he wasn't mourning for his wife that died not long before, there would be no hesitation in jumping that train. But let's not think like that right now. 

Phoenix could only smirk from the swarming thoughts of the teenage boy. Unlike Eight the girl had no promise to not invade anyone's thoughts. 

"I'm sorry okay? I'm sorry," he started off the bat knowing Little ol' Five would hate his news, "I just needed somebody to come with me for emotional support," he replied. 

Five scoffed, "Oh, emotional support, like a Schnauzer?" he asked. 

The girl once again leaned forward, "You're more like a small Border Collie," she suggested only to raise her hands when she met, Five's intense glare. 

"I knew you wouldn't come if I told you, so what was I supposed to do?" he said with a slight frown. 

Five sighed, "You're goddamn right I wouldn't have come, Klaus. You know why?" he paused and didn't say anything. Everyone in the car was silent waiting for an answer, "Because I am supposed to be retired!" He then yelled making everyone jump. 

Phoenix rose a brow and looked over at Chris, "Retired?" she mouthed asking him. 

The boy waved a hand, "I'll explain later," he whispered and snuggled back into the seat of the car. 

"This was supposed to be a carefree road trip," he added with a huff, still wildly annoyed. 

Klaus then spoke up again hoping to fix it, "Well, it still can, babe," he replied

 Five looked in disbelief and huffed looking forward. 

Now Phoenix absolutely hated America, after a few run-ins in the country, she hated everything about it. She was also a hypocrite since she loved tourist sites, even in her own country. Loved it. 

"Ball of Twine!" she screamed in joy, catching the attention of Five. 

The teen was retired and wanted to see the Twine, so he did what he could think best of. Leaning over and turning the wheel to go and see it. 

"What? Five! Five!" Klaus called fighting to turn the wheel, and when he did all of them shifted with the harsh turn. Almost causing an accident with two other cars around. 

Phoenix looked over to Chris, "This is who Eight was related to?" she groaned rubbing her head from the quick turn, "I should've ignored you both..." she trailed off and sighed. 

The young boy shook his head, "I'm sure it'll be worth it," he said trying to relax, "Plus Klaus' adventures always go wrong, so we'll have something to do." 

The Seance gasped and turned back, "Hey, they do not," he tried to add. 

Five rolled his eyes, "You were kidnapped by Hazel and Cha-cha all those weeks ago, you started a cult, got trapped in the past in a war..." he paused knowing there was more. 

The purple-haired girl laughed, "Oh, dear Klaus you are much more than I expected," she said with a smile, leaning forward to pat his shoulder, "This ought to be good." 

It was odd for the Hargreeves to look at the purple-haired girl and hear not their usual American relative. But instead a heavy Australian accent with a tattoo-clad girl. They had yet to see her in action, but based on what she had demonstrated earlier, she was a force. 

The drive after the harsh turn wasn't long, Klaus parked the car and the four walked towards the large brown Twine. After a short ramble from Klaus going on about he had to come to Pennsylvania to see his birth mother.

Phoenix stood beside Five with her arms crossed, "You know I'd thought it be bigger, based on what people mentioned," she said clicking her tongue, "Disappointing." 

"How can you even see it?" The time traveler replied, hands in pockets, looking up at the large ball. 

The teen girl turned to him and dipped her glasses down her nose, "I can't," she replied with a snort. 

he turned to her with a glare, "And what is that supposed to mean bird?" he replied, "but it is big." 

"Of course, you would think it's big," She smiled at the newly given nickname, then pushed her glasses back up her nose. 

At this, he fully turned to the new addition to the group, "Listen you little—" 

"—Oh okay how about I ask Klaus," Chris paused to break up the two, "How do you know your birth mother is here?" 

The seance who was enjoying the hated energy between the two teens, "Well because I was on the ass end of a two-week bender, and I can't you the exact date," he started stumbling over to the arguing teens, "Because we were booking Xanax and the whole business, but Amy Winehouse was at the top of the charts. So that puts us somewhere, where? In the mid to late aughts? I helped myself into Dad's office, looking for the key to his safe. But instead, I found a treasure trove of our family history, told in expired check stubs." 

Pheonix didn't want to hear the rest of the story. The oh-so disappointing price to give up a child.  She then wondered how much her doppelganger had gotten. Even thought about the possibility of Reginald looking for her in this universe. But who knew? 

"Well, can you really call what we had as a family?" Five questioned, the dyed girl returning back to reality. 

She snorted, "Not really, I mean only two of the eight came around to help whatever situation you are in," she said, "And the only one that is actually helping is a dead woman and a boy from the 60s." 

Five sighed at her words, "As much as I hate to agree, you're right Bird," he turned to look at her, "What is family? Do you have one?" 

The girl shrugged, slipping her hands into her back pockets, "I had parents to grow up with, they are now retired and old," she started, "You love, fight, hate, but never leave each other," pausing to look at the ugly ball of twine, "but like this thing, you are tightly wounded." 

The younger teen didn't say anything, but if anything he agreed. He remembered the days in the apocalypse when he had his own little family. Had a wife and a son who he loved unconditionally. Five wondered if it was the same for this girl. Did she suffer as much as his wife did to become who she was now? 

Klaus just looked at the ball and smiled softly, "I know you aren't Ellie, but just like her at least you came," he paused then looked at Five, "I'm also glad you came, you're a good brother," he then lastly looked at Chris, "Don't really know why you joined also, but thanks, it feels like part of Ellie is still here with me." 

Five didn't say anything, "Let's go find your stupid mother," he added then walked away, not waiting for any of them to follow. 

"Got anything else on Eight?" Five asked Chris who sat in the back concentrating on painting Phoenix's nails. 

The boy shrugged, "Sure got tons," he mumbled, "Got into fights all time with dad about guys she would date," he started, "Hated them all, but she was great at sneaking out and would find ways to never miss a date. but none of them stood a chance, she didn't go on second dates." 

"Absolutely loved coffee, she'd have a cup in the morning and at night. She loved helping dad in the office too and was good at it too. You had yourself a smart lady." 

Five couldn't help but smirk, "Are you any of those things Bird?" 

The girl rolled her eyes and flipped him off, "Just pay attention to the stupid mother, huh?"

Soon enough in the drive, they made it to the countryside, where everything was much more conservative, "Oh fuck me, this place Klaus?" The purple-haired girl groaned, feeling the expansive land and who resided on it. 

"This explains everything," Klaus breathed out looking around. 

The three others rose a brow, "How does this explain anything?" Five asked removing his hat. 

"Because look. Look at this place! This is everything my childhood was missing," he said with a smile, walking slowly away from the ground. 

Five didn't like this one bit, "Hey, uh, Klaus?" he called reaching his stupid brother. 

The Seance looked back, "Yeah?" 

Chris knew what was happening, "Right, Doppelganger check, feeling anything funny?" 

Five nodded, "Itching, sweating, gas, anything like that?"

"No. No, I feel great," He replied walking away.

"Alright, good luck," The boy said turning his head slightly to see the men in white shirts and girls in dressed glaring at dear old Pheonix. Then again she was wearing a spaghetti-strap tank top with some pretty shorts. Her skin is all on display. 

"Huh, you're not coming?" he asked. 

Five shook his head, "This one you gotta do alone unless one of these two wants to go." 

Pheonix snorted, "I don't think I'll do good in there," she added shaking her head, "Y'know can't see and all." 

Chris was curious about the whole Hargreeves family so he decided to go, "Come on," he mumbled and pulled the curly-haired boy along.

"Why didn't you go?" Five asked the teen who just looked around. 

The teen gave him a look, "Yeah, because the Amish will definitely like booty shorts, tattoos, and dyed hair," she replied and walked back and sat on the hood of the car. 

"What do you know about my wife?" 

Pheonix turned to look at the saddened teen, "She knew more than you and I combined Five, we just have to trust that she brought me in for a reason."  

Five rolled his eyes, "There isn't a reason, no apocalypse, she's just dead and was paranoid something would happen. You can go back to your little repair shop if want." 

What stick did he have up his ass? The Eight Hargreeves she had met would not stand for the bullshit he was pulling. Her eye twitched at the mere insinuation. The girl then turned and punched him right in the face. 

Five hissed, "What the fuck," he groaned as his eyes shut in pain. Holding his nose he opened his eyes to see his surroundings had changed. 

He was no longer in the countryside with the Amish. Instead in a sizeable lush field with a little blonde girl at the center. Sitting and braiding flowers together her head facing up. Letting go of his nose, he began walking closer to the girl. He frowned at the sight of her pale white eyes looking off into the distance. 

"Hello?" he called but she didn't respond as she continued braiding the flower crown in the lap. When she didn't look at him, he immediately walked around her to notice who it was. This was Eight as a little girl but not in the home they had grown up together. As he reached to call her again, a light crackle grabbed his attention. 

There he saw an older version of Eight. Long blonde hair brushed against her back, her face youthful with a small smile. He watched her call out a name, but he couldn't hear it. 

"How do you know my name?" The little girl called out to the pretty blonde, she felt her near. 

Eight walked forward with a smile, "It's a lot to explain my dear, but bear with me," she started and reached a hand forward. 

Flickers of dark colors flowed in her fingers, "You have this too right? You could feel it?" Eight questioned moving her fingers in the air. 

The young girl nodded and lifted her much smaller hand, an orb of dark red with slivers of gold appeared in her hand. 

He watched as Eight's eyes looked at it with curiosity, "You are meant to be the better one out of both of us, little one," she said and moved her hand to tap the side of her head. For a second her eyes glowed an eerie green before she blinked and looked at Eight with a nod. 

Eight then began talking but the little girl didn't listen all that much, "I'll help you," she said but what freaked Five out was the direct eye contact she had with him. Almost as if she knew he was standing there. 

His wife looked behind her to see nothing, "What are you looking at —," again he wasn't able to hear the girl's name. 

The little girl shook her head, "Oh nothing," she replied and looked back at her explaining the situation to her. 

"Did you see me?" he mumbled looking at the girl, "It looked as if you could see me for a moment." 

The older Pheonix appeared beside him, "I'm not completely sure, I don't remember this part of the memory if I'm being honest, then again I can't see, so it may look like I did." 

"I still don't like you," he replied as the memory fell slowly like sand, returning them to the Amish land. 

The girl shrugged, "And I don't really care, I'm not here for you," she told him, then turned to reach into the car for her nail polish. Sitting on the hood of the car as she painted them while humming, it was hard, but she managed. 

"How are you able to function without sight?" He then asked the question he's been dying to know. 

The girl paused her activity, "My abilities let me have a sixth sense, heightened my other senses to the point that I know where everything is. I just don't see color to faces and all that jazz," she said humming. 

He just nodded, he didn't get it, but it's not like he cared all that much, so he went back into the car. Singing to himself as he looked over the map he had in hand. The two did not really mind their surroundings until nowhere a largely invisible force pulled against the air. There was no noise coming besides the distant birds. 

"Bird do you hear that?" he asked getting out of the car. 

The girl nodded, "Yeah nothing..." she mumbled eyes furrowing on the empty green field beside them. 

"Fuck..." the two mumbled knowing what it meant. 

The boy looked over at her, "Wait why did you say fuck? I know why I said fuck, why did you?" he rambled grabbing a marker and shutting a door closed, and began writing on the glass. 

Phoenix sighed, "Look I can't explain right now, but if think I know what is happening, we are most certainly fucked," she said gripping her head. 

He glared at her, "That still doesn't explain what you know?" 

"When I said I was a very experienced eighteen-year-old, I lied," she started, "I know what the Commission is, I know all of that, for a while I was chased down because I was timeline hopping." 

His eyes bulged, "Into other timelines? Do you know how dangerous that is? You could've been killed by other versions of you." 

Pheonix groaned, "Obviously you're a shit listener, there are literally only two versions of us that exist, one of them is now dead. I wanted to see other places okay, it was stupid, but obviously, I got reverted back in age and now I'm eighteen again. I'm assuming the same happened to you," she finished with a roll of her eyes, that he couldn't see. 

The boy just hummed, he would return to this. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could the two heard screaming. 

"Five! Five! Start the car!" The two yelled loudly as they were chased by very much angry men in suits. 

Five groaned at the sight, "Jesus you two just bring trouble don't you?" he yelled running over to the car, he then paused to look at the purple-haired girl, "Well get in, before you get left behind," he hissed, eyebrows furrowed. 

Panting the two gripped the doors open, "We tried, we really did—" Chris started but pushed Klaus, "Dude the lady," he said pointing at the woman with a book in hand. 

"Klaus, we got to go!" the teen girl yelled from the passenger seat, "Thanks lady!" she waved as she gave Klaus a small smile. 

"Drive!" Three different voices yelled as Klaus got in the car. All while the Amish men yelled angrily chasing the car. 

The Doppelganger turned to Klaus, "What does your stupid book say?" she asked her as she tried to calm her heart after what had just happened. 

"My mom died here before I was even born!" Klaus gasped 

Five eyes widened and slammed his foot on the brake, sending everything lunging forward. 

"Ow, what the fuck!" Pheonix cried holding her nose as she hit her face on the dashboard. 

The teen male momentarily looked at her and rolled his eyes, "You shut up. What did you just say?" He said his eye was slightly twitching towards Klaus. 

Klaus nodded brushing hair out of his face, "Yeah," he confirmed and even pushed the book closer to him. 

Five pulled it to his lap for a moment and flipped through the pages, "Your mom isn't here, bird," he said out loud. Beginning driving with a clenched jaw, "How is that possible?" 

She shrugged, "I mean she's still an old lady now, but very much alive," she paused to feel around the pages at her fingertips, "Your family just keeps on getting odder, little bloke." 

The teen driving sighed, "You've to go no idea Bird." 

Chris didn't get the recent news. After they had left the 60s it seemed as if everything went back to how it was. But if things like this were happening...it meant the people who met the Hargreeves did something in the 60s that changed the future. But just exactly who changed the future? Eight was never adopted, but it seemed that it wasn't even close to the soul that Eight had. Ben was alive in this world...where are the others? 

Eight's plan by the minute kept on becoming clear, and he hated it. Was she a part of it? Did she do all of this?

It wasn't long before the group reached the hotel where they had been staying at. 

Pheonix snorted, "Hotel Obsidian, nice choice," she said and high-fived the Seance who smiled, her other hand gripping her cane in the other hand. 

As they all started walking forward Five stopped the teen girl, "Look before we walk in there, try and understand that Eight was a huge part of our lives. And you look too much like her..." 

The girl waved a hand, "Yeah, yeah calm down mate." 

Five rolled his eyes and gripped the book tightly, and began walking towards the hotel entrance. In a rushed state the other two followed close behind.  He then walked over to the bar and saw his siblings. 

Pheonix took her time and felt around the Hotel that she hadn't visited in quite some time. It still smelled old and grimy. Just as it had always been, the lights all gave off the aged look. 

"These are our mothers," Five started as he flipped through the pages. 

"And they're all dead," The purple-haired girl spoke up, catching the attention of everyone. 

Viktor looked up and his eyes widened, "Eight?" he whispered at the sight, the others now all looking up to see the familiar face. 

The teen shook her head, "No, unfortunately not your sister, different timeline. Your dear old pops did not adopt me," she explained tucking her free hand in her pocket, "Your mothers died on the exact same day, October 1st, 1998." 

Viktor's face saddened at the girl, "That's our birthday." 

Five shook his head, "Not anymore, it isn't. They all died before we were born," He started. 

Diego rolled his eyes, "That's dumb. If we weren't born, how can we exist?"

"Bingo, whatever your little family did to come here, created a paradox," Pheonix explained with a shrug, "And according to what I've seen, not just any paradox..." she paused walking closer to the family, "The grandfather paradox." 

Allison scoffed, "Okay I'm sorry but who the hell are you? If you arent' Eight or Eleanor, where did you come from?" she asked already getting tired of this girl, eyeing her whole attire. 

"I'm Pheonix if you must know sour puss, I was born in this timeline, you're in my home and are on the road to destroying it," she said pointing her cane towards her. 

Klaus pulled the girl beside him before anything bad could happen, "Uh, what the hell is a grandfather paradox?" 

Chris cracked his knuckled and neck with a smile, "Let me do the honors—" 

[intheholler]

I’m so sorry I’m so late

Tw for church and sa and some god hate

My parents are divorced and that’s important for this. One day, on summer holidays, (I think I was twelve, maybe thirteen, I don’t know, my brain is wants me to forgot) I was spending holiday’s at my father house. I borrowed my mum’s phone for the holiday because she didn’t use it anymore and had cool games there.

But one day somone called the phone. And I picked up. It was old man, like my parents, maybe a bit older. He said that he’s friend with my parents and if I’m the little Ellie that he used to carry. I’m saying that I’m sorry that I don’t know him. My father overheard and took the phone and started talking with him. Yes, he was really my parents friend and I was the little Ellie he used to carry when I was a newborn.

And yes, he thought he was gonna call my mother because for some twisted reason he remembered that she existed. Long story short, at the end of the summer my mum and him were dating.

He had two daughters, first a year older and the second seven years younger than me.

And that’s when things went downhill. We stared living with them in the blink of an eye in my brain but I’m pretty sure that it took some time.

He was a religious man. We knew about that. But we didn’t know how he used to beat and manipulate his ex wifes ‘in the name of god’

Soon I was brought to church because as he said, I was uncontrollable and a brat. And he already manipulated my mum so it was very easy for him to do so. He genuinely believed that if he asks a god for forgiveness that god will forgive him. He was praying every night like ‘Father look at this wild child, so rebellious, she never listens to anyone and forgive for saying this, but she’s a brat, please give me the strength to handle her.’

I mean he’s right, I’m a little fight starter and I like to piss people off and I’m autistic so god doesn’t make sense to me and I was thirteen so I was literally like a Young Sheldon and his fact checking. I was questing the Bible just to make them mad and also bcs those things they were saying were in contrary with the Bible to me.

So I was called a Satan child for questioning the Bible, I was walking the wrong path and I was eaten by the darkness.

Once his youngest daughter accidentally misspelled some world and she ended saying that she has a girlfriend instead of boyfriend. They laughed it off but said to not ever be gay. So I said ‘What’s wrong with it?’. It was followed by screaming, even my mum’s, and he screamed the Bible out for me. Dragged me to church the next day and I had to listen to made up stories about how homosexuality is a sin and that I’m old enough to understand it. Then they all prayed for me so I would find my way back to light and god.

Maybe that’s the reason why he told me that I need his hands on my body, to cleanse me from sins and darkness. (I hope y’all know what this means) No, he never used a god to be a bad guy, he’s fucking crazy, has a god complex and does believe that he has some sort of power. I remember how he threw the Tv out of the window because it was the devil’s work.

Or maybe that’s something I want to believe.

It ended up with them breaking up because he said I’m way too much eaten by devil that prayers can’t save me. He used my mum, manipulated her, took her money and brain away and then left us on a street.

I’m wondering if he realises what he did. If he really uses a god to apologize his sins manipulative behavior and if he’s like all aware of it or if he really has a god complex and some psychosis and doesn’t realise any of it.

But he says that he’s a good person because he’s only following God’s words.

Anyway; since that I found the whole Christianity stupid. Because why this kid at church, maybe 4, cried to us that if he’s gonna pray maybe god will forgive him his sins? He’s a kid! Four years old! What kind of sins a kid can have?! And what kind of kind and lovely god is this shit man if he’s letting some assholes like them doing this a kid and make kids believe that they’re bad humans?

I still don’t understand what kind of gaslighting abusive faith is this but maybe im way too autistic to understand it.

Please don’t try to explain the god to me or tell me how Christianity is good, anyone who feels like they need to explain it to me, I don’t give a shit anymore and I hope y’all understand why. Also im very much stubborn and once I make my opinion you can’t change it.

Also once we left I outed myself to my mum, she almost dragged me back to church, she didn’t, but that didn’t stop her from telling me how sinful I am for MONTHS like mf never got tired of running her mouth

The religious lesbian

(anon: i'm so glad you popped back up. i just saw your question, and i wanted to assure you it was absolutely nothing you did wrong. i hope i didn't lead you to think that.

i overthink everything and it was incredibly personal, so i wasn't terribly sure if you wanted it posted publicly or not, as my invitation to share your story came with the assurance that it could remain private if you wanted.

i still have it sitting in my asks actually because i didn't know how to reach you to double check for your permission to share it!)

thank you for sharing such an intimate and difficult part of yourself. presenting without comment as not to overshadow your story <3 but i do want to say, at the very least, you deserve so much more than you got.

[pendinganchor]

note: all you need to know before reading this is billy survived starcourt and some years later he lives in oregon with at least steve and max. and i know nothing of agriculture, so just go with it okay

note 2.0: this is a first draft i wrote on my phone and it was read by my sister so any mistakes are her fault not mine

———

Steve had made this drive about a hundred times. They never made it to their destination— the closest they got was five miles. Steve would drive in silence other than the radio until Billy told him to turn around.

Then he would do just that and head back home. Steve never pressured him to talk about why they never made it. Never complained about the wasted money. They would get home and Steve would wait for Billy to come to him for comfort. Sometimes it would only be a few hours— the longest was three days.

Billy didn’t like breaking down in front of him— he understood that. If he wanted to talk, he would.

Steve didn’t need the map anymore— he had the route memorized. But Billy sat in the passenger seat with it open anyway.

The camaro roared under his grip, the sound of the tires on the highway keeping him better company than the man next to him. But he never held that against him. He had brought Robin along a total of one time before deciding to never have more than the two of them in the car. Max begged to come many times but Billy refused to allow it.

With each passing sign, Steve braced himself for the signal. But this time, it never came. The last five miles of the journey was new, but he still didn’t need directions. Two more miles then he turned down a long dirt road. He was still waiting for the signal as they drove down the road— the dirt louder than the pavement they had been on for the past give or take twelve hours.

They passed three mailboxes before the one he was looking for came into view. It was painted blue with four numbers in black. Once closer Steve noted it had little doodles of beachy things as well. “9-3-0-1?” His voice came out almost a whisper.

Billy repeated the number sequence as Steve made the turn. The house was big and such a light shade of yellow it looked almost white. The door was painted the same shade of blue as the mailbox. “I changed my mind, turn around.” He sounded panicked, but it was too late.

As Steve drove down the driveway, a girl that looked to be about three years old tugged on the pant leg of an older gentleman that looked distracted on the porch. The girl ran into the house as Steve put the car in park. “Wait in the car. I’ll say we got lost.”

“Can I help you, young man?” the man asked as Steve stepped out of the car with the map in hand.

“Yeah, sorry,” Steve said giving his signature shy smile. “My friend and I took a wrong turn somewhere and can’t agree on where we are.” He held up the map and the man seemed to relax a little.

“Let me take a look for you.” The man spread the map over the rickety table he had been looking at prior to Steve interrupting. “Let’s see. You’re…” His finger hovered over the map for a few seconds then it slammed down dramatically. “Here.” He turned to Steve. “Where you headed?”

Fuck. Steve hadn’t thought that far ahead. He opened his mouth with a hope something not stupid would come out of it. But the sound of the front door banging open caused them both to startle.

He had seen an old photo of her. But he didn’t need the reference to know who this woman was. The resemblance to Billy smacked him in the face.

“Christ woman, are you trying to send me to an early grave?”

She ignored the man for Steve. She looked from him to the car— her face a little pale and her eyes like she’d just seen a ghost. “Who are you? Who’s in the car?” Her eyes moved back to him.

Steve couldn’t speak, couldn’t even move his gaze away from her blue eyes. The same ones he looked at every day.

“Just some lost travelers, honey. I’m handling it.”

“It can’t be.”

Steve cursed himself as his brain tried to think of a way out of this. “I’m Steve. My friend, Jonathan, has trouble walking so he needed to stay in the car.”

“Jonathan?” Her voice got quiet as she looked back to the car. “I could have sworn.”

“Now that we know where we are, I think we can figure out the rest.” Steve reached over and quickly grabbed his map. “Thank you, sir. Your hospitality is deeply appreciated.” He hurried down the porch, only slightly embarrassed about how insane he probably seemed. He heard a faint, “you scared them off,” from the man.

Steve was halfway to the car when the passenger side door opened. He froze, trying to give Billy a look that said he handled it— but it didn’t matter. Billy was looking past him. Seeing his mother seemed to have the same affect on him as it did Steve— probably worse.

Billy’s cane came out first— followed by his right leg then his left. The cane pushed into the dirt as Billy used it to get out of the car. He then staggered over to Steve— who turned then flung his arm around Billy’s waist to keep him steady.

They both looked up to the porch. Steve couldn’t read the look on the man’s face— but the woman was staring at Billy, looking even more like she had just seen a ghost than before.

“Billy?” she asked, descending the porch steps. “Is that really you?” She stopped once she reached the bottom. “It- it can’t be. You- you- I saw your grave.”

Billy chuckled nervously. “Yeah, about that.”

[rottingmanifesto]

omg memphis hiiii!!! sending ‘silent fury’ from the asks for any oc!! <3

OMG HI! I hope things are going well! Hope your bday goes well too, if you want anything small I can def try. Sorry this took forever to get to, it’s been… a time. Anyway, here’s Canary and Lincoln acting like siblings because why not

—

“Could do without the attitude.”

You’re keeping your arms tightly around your chest and have half of your body turned as close to the passenger side door as you can get it without popping a hip out of place. “I’m sure you could.”

Lincoln makes a noise something like a sigh and cuts his eyes back to the road. “Your own fault for gettin’ caught.”

“You’re four years older than me, shut the hell up,” you say, a bit too loud for your own good. You’re bound to find out his limits of mouthing off, probably sooner rather than later. “You treat everyone like this?”

“Matter-of-fact, I do,” he plays along with his own sarcasm but his knuckles are going pale on the steering wheel with every word you say. “Especially after doin’ stupid shit.”

“Remind me how hanging up flyers is anti-American.” They weren’t even communist, unless union posters somehow count as communist now. Sure, it wasn’t much, but you’re limited in scope besides talking with people and (hopefully) being convincing enough to make some sort of change.

“‘Least it’s me and not Donovan.”

You clamp your mouth shut. He is right on that. John would lose his shit if he knew. At least Lincoln was halfway rational, even if still an ass.

You reach over to turn on the radio and groan when it’s Remy Duvall’s voice that comes through. With special-fucking-guest, Olivia Marcano.

“Get your hands off my radio.”

You throw you hand up. “You want Native Son?”

“No, but I don’t want you touchin’ shit.”

“O-kay.” Whatever’s got him so pissy— it’s not the posters, you can say that with relative confidence— has consumed him enough that you don’t want to test his patience any further.

“Say, Miss Marcano, what made Lucio so in love with science?”

“Well, he grew up in deep poverty, you know.” You roll your eyes at the scripting and Olivia Marcano’s overblown wistfulness. “So, he found comfort in the world around him. Grew curious about how chemicals worked, why things exploded, things of the sort. He never had the kind of money to explore it on his own, so he’d want others to— have that chance. I took the initiative to seek out young women, since so dreadfully few actually take an interest in the sciences beyond cosmetics.”

“Very noble.”

Lincoln remains silent but somewhat smirks.

“Well, we got a few calls ‘bout colored women not getting a fair shake. A dreadful shame, with so many scholarships out there for them, too.”

“Forgive me, I never knew there would be an interest from— from that community. Lucio never would’ve intended to harm, and I don’t either. I simply never considered it.”

“That is such fucking bullshit.” You almost reach for the knob but stop short, looking to Lincoln for approval. He doesn’t look your way. “Can I?”

“Nah. Wanna hear what she says.”

The chatter in the car covers up whatever bullshit Remy is likely spewing under the guise of “caring”, shit you’re all too familiar with, being raised around it.

Your hand slides back down to your lap.

“Truly, Olivia, I don’t know why so many people are lookin’ for a fight. They gotta understand this isn’t for them.” Remy chuckles in a way that’s meant to be disarming, but in truth is disingenuous. “Surely, there are other scholarships.”

“There are. In fact, there’s an arts scholarship for students from Delray Hollow—”

Lincoln shuts off the radio. Neither of you want to mention the absolute vitriol that laced Olivia Marcano’s voice with the phrase ‘Delray Hollow’, her mouth creating what was intended to be a barely-implicit slur. He guns it down the highway at a cool 85 miles-per-hour in silence for five minutes. Silence here is subjective, considering how many people he’s cut off and the amount of horns blared at his Sampson.

“You okay?”

“Yep.”

You’re tempted to turn his own phrase against him— ‘could do without the attitude’— but instead you fish around your pockets for the lack of American Spirits you’d swiped from a corner store and offer him one.

“I’m fine, kid. Thanks.”

You slump in the seat. This was never about the union posters.

[noelletexidor19]

The Green-eyed Monster

Hello, my name is Noelle. This is my very first post on Tumblr. I decided that for this post, I would share one of the short stories I wrote for my creative writing class that was focused on fiction that I took during my junior year of college. I would appreciate any feedback that you have. The story is below.

Noelle Texidor

12/14/2023

                                      The Green-Eyed Monster

         Bella was so different from me. I learned this over the years from going to school with her, attending family gatherings, and going to church together. She was bold and outgoing. Funny, yet sarcastic and cunning. Incredibly intelligent. Brilliant. Unbelievably beautiful. Talented in so many disciplines. Of course, I was jealous. How could I not be?

         We always got into fights about something stupid. I told her she was the petty one --even though I often started those arguments over something trivial like my missing sweater--. Bella was not completely innocent though. I remember she told Mom I broke her favorite flower vase when it was Bella. I was so angry that day that I wanted to rip out Bella’s hair and shove it down her throat. Instead, I took the blame. I knew it would be pointless to try and argue with Mom over who broke the vase. Mom would have naturally assumed it was me anyway. I was the eldest sister. I had to set an example. And I tried to. I really did.

                                                          ***

         I often felt less than adequate compared to my sister. I was not as intelligent as her. I struggled all throughout high school, while she breezed by with straight As in all of her classes for all four years. I failed two classes freshman year. My parents ripped me apart when they got my report card for the first semester. I could not stop crying whenever I was alone in my room; I was disappointed in myself for letting them down. From then on, I worked my ass off to pass all my classes so I could go to a good college. Yet it seemed like Bella did not have to put in half the work that I did when we were in high school. Everything came so easily to her. I told myself that I was the dumb older sister, and she was the smarter, prettier, younger sister.

         Our parents told us we were beautiful young women all the time. I could see it in Bella. She had beautiful light blue eyes with streaks of green and what was yellow in her irises. She had the prettiest light brown hair that was so much curlier and longer than mine. Her face was that of an angel’s. Full plump lips and high cheekbones. Eyebrows that were practically perfect; symmetric and thick, but not too thick. A round face and the cutest button nose. She had a beautiful figure too, very womanly, mom would tell her. She was gorgeous. I did not want to hurt her--her self-esteem, I mean-- so I told her she was beautiful too. Strangely enough, she did not believe me when I did.

         “My eyebrows are too bushy,” she said after I complimented her. I groaned because I knew, or I thought she was only saying that to make herself seem humbler.

         “No, they’re not. Your eyebrows are really pretty, Bella. They look better than mine anyway…” She gave me a sideways glance as if I were ridiculous. Perhaps at that time, I was. Looking back at it now, I was insecure about my appearance. I thought I was okay, but not stunningly beautiful like Bella.

         My own self-esteem plummeted when I heard that Josh MacEntire asked Bella to prom at the beginning of the spring semester that year when she was a sophomore, and I was a senior. Josh was the captain of the basketball team at our high school, and he always got whatever his heart desired, this time it was my dear little sister. Josh was that one guy every girl swooned over, and even some guys swooned over him. We were in the same year, and I noticed that in the classroom, he did well enough to get by, but he certainly wasn’t an academic weapon like Bella. He was charming though. He could talk his way out of assignments with our teachers if he had a big game that night. On the court though, that’s where he really soared. He would weave in and out between the other players and dunk the ball into the basket during the last two minutes of nearly every game. I think that was when Bella started to develop feelings for him. We were at one of the home games, and she saw him do his signature move that night. She looked over at me with eyes that screamed infatuation.

No one had ever asked me to be their prom date throughout high school, but I went anyways with a couple of my friends. I tried to be happy for Bella after she told me Josh sang her favorite song--Jessie’s Girl-- to her during his promposal. After I drove us back home that afternoon, I sprinted straight to my room and cried all night.

         I knew I should have supported Bella. I understood it was petty of me to feel sorry for myself at that moment. Nevertheless, I cried myself to sleep because I could not shake the feeling that I would be alone for the rest of my life.

                                                          ***

         The next morning, I woke up feeling different. I did not have this longing to be kind and compassionate anymore, at least not to Bella. I decided to drive myself to school without waiting for Bella to get in the car. Of course, Mom called me asking me where I was and why I did not wait for my sister. I told her I just forgot.

         When Bella was dropped off at school by mom thirty minutes after the first bell rang, her face turned into a snarl when she passed me in the hallway. I smiled to myself once I walked into my English class. How does it feel? I thought.

         Throughout that day, Bella avoided talking to me. I felt bad at first, but I realized that she always got what she wanted but today was different. Today, things were going to change from now on. I would make sure Bella felt the way I had for so many years: less than.

         I found it easy to get on her nerves. All I had to do was talk to Josh in the hallway during our breaks between classes. I would see him grabbing a textbook from his locker, and I would try as innocently as possible to grab his attention while Bella passed by.

         “Hey Josh. What class do you have next?”

         “Chemistry. Why?”

         “Well, I took chemistry last year, so if you ever need any help, let me know,” I said.

         “Thanks, I’ll take you up on your offer.”

  It was not as if I was flirting with him, just asking what homework he had that night or how he was doing. Bella did not see it like that. She accused me of trying to steal him from her one day, a couple of weeks after the spring semester started.

         “Why do you keep talking to him?! You know he asked me out, not you,” Bella said. Her words were venomous, and they stung when she emphasized I had not been asked out by Josh.

         “I’m allowed to talk to guys Bella. Even if he asked you out, I could still talk to him.” She rolled her eyes, stomped into her room, and promptly slammed the door. Perfect. Just Perfect.

         When Mom asked me why Bella was so upset the next day during breakfast when Bella was still in the shower, I told her I had no idea. Of course, I knew the reason, but I was not going to confess my plans of making my sister feel inferior. I was not willing to tell Mom that I had made Bella sour that week. That I was the source of Bella’s frustration. What surprised me though, was that Bella had not told Mom that I was talking to Josh. Bella had not told Mom about Josh at all, and I certainly did not tell her. It was not my place to go as far as to tattletale on my sister to our mother. I wanted this so-called revenge to be between the two of us.

         Whenever I would talk to Josh, he would often tell me that he was lucky Bella even looked his way. He would make sure I knew how much he liked and admired my sister. I was not shocked to hear how he thought Bella was the hottest chick at this school. I was annoyed that he continued to talk about my sister in front of me, as if I was not there. One day, he said,

         “Yeah, I can’t believe you two are sisters. You’re all right. But Bella. Damn. She’s amazing.” I wished he had not said that. I was already aware that my sister was better than me in every feasible way. My emotions overtook me in that moment.

         “You’re right, Josh. Bella is amazing. I don’t know why she even wastes her time with an asshole like you.” Time stood still after those last three words left my mouth. I wanted the earth to swallow me whole once I realized I had just insulted the captain of the basketball team.

         Josh instantly looked down, his eyes began to well up with tears, and his lips were downturned into the most pathetic frown I had ever seen. I could not believe what I was witnessing. This seventeen-year-old guy who let the world know that he was the best of the best every time he was on the court, was crying in front of me. Sobbing. How could my words cut down someone whom I perceived as Hercules? Me --the quiet shy girl in the back of the classroom who in freshman year accidentally wet her pants during a presentation in her American History class, where Josh and all his teammates were present-- was able to make the most popular boy at school cry? What kind of power did my words hold?

         I did not see Bella coming from around the corner of the hallway after the last bell of the day rang. She must have seen Josh crying and, me, standing right next to him, because the next words she spoke were ones I would never forget,

         “What did you do to Josh! Get away from him you BITCH!” Those words tore through my chest and stabbed my heart.

         “She called me an asshole, Bella. All I said was that you were ‘amazing.’” He was such a coward. I wanted to throw him out the window into oncoming traffic and watch his painful and sudden death.

         “What did Josh ever do to you, Santos? What’s wrong with you?”

Everything was wrong with me. I wanted what I could not have.

         “Don’t you ever call me a bitch again, Bella. Josh, you’re a poor excuse for a man. You can get a ride home from Josh, Bella.”

I decided to drive straight home after our argument. I did not have time to deal with either one of them, and I did not want to explain myself.

                                                           ***

         Mom was waiting for me when I got home. I figured Bella would have called her; she was cowardly too. “Santos Catalina Hernández, you have a lot explaining to do, young lady,” she said after I opened the door.

All my anger and jealousy erupted into tears of pain and sadness. I knew I was in trouble and there was nothing I could do to get out of it.

         “What’s wrong mi vida? Why are you crying,” Mom whispered as she pulled me into her arms.

         “Because I am so stupid, mama. I am the worst person to have ever lived,” I sobbed out. Mom tried to shush me as she gently rubbed my shoulders.

         “Where is all of this coming from, Santos?”

I knew that it was the result of years of comparison between myself and Bella. I knew that. However, I did not have the courage nor the maturity to tell mom at the time. Thus, I was a coward too.

         “I don’t know mama. I don’t know,” was all I could say as I sniffled and pathetically wiped away my tears.

         “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

I should have taken this opportunity when mom offered it to me, but I was stupid enough not to.

         “Yeah, I know mama. Thank you,” I said. She smiled and tried to cheer me up by making me my favorite drink.

         “Why don’t I make you a cup of Mexican hot chocolate? You always feel better after you drink it.” She kissed my cheek, went into the kitchen, and pulled out the copper pot from the cupboard. As she set to work, I heard someone pulling into the driveway.

         My curiosity to find out who would be at the door won over my feelings of self-pity. I crept over to the front door and stood up on my toes to look through the peephole. Much to my annoyance and frustration, it was Josh and Bella walking up the path leading to the house from the garage. This would be interesting.

         “Mama, Bella and Josh are here,” I shouted into the kitchen. I could hear mom stop everything she was doing.

         “Who’s Josh, Santos,” she asked as she walked into the front hallway. I considered telling her about him, but I chose to let Bella do that herself.

         “You’ll find out in just a moment.”

As soon as Bella opened the door her eyes widened when she saw me standing next to mom. Mom seemed confused as she saw this teenage boy who was at least two feet taller than every woman in our house. Josh was smirking to himself, for whatever reason.

         “Mom, hi. This is, uh, Josh. He’s my boyfriend,” Bella stuttered out as her face steadily turned red.

         “Really? Well, it’s nice to meet you, Josh.”

I could not wait to hear his response. If I ever had to describe mom, I would tell my friends she was old-fashioned. She expected any guests who were brought home to bring something with them for our family. Whether that be a gift like wine, small trinkets for everyone, or simply an act of gratitude such as helping our family clean up after dinner. Mom also expected guests to treat her with respect and kindness, as this was her home. Mom was a retired physician, and she supported our family with her income all throughout my childhood and she did not allow people to disrespect her, especially not cocky boys who thought they were hot shit like Josh.

         “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Mrs. Hernández,” Josh said. I found it strange that Bella had not told mom in advance about Josh coming home with her. I suspected this was my doing, but I did not expect Josh to walk Bella to our front door.

         “I’m Dr. Kirstina Ramierz. My husband and I divorced five years ago.”

 It was evident Mom was angry with Bella, just as I was. I did not know until then that they were officially dating. How bizarre.

         “I’m sure you know my other daughter, Santos. Right, Josh?” I knew it, this was going to be interesting.

         “Well, yes, of course. We are both seniors, and we took an American History class together our freshman year. Santos and has been very helpful with my chemistry homework this semester,” he said as he looked over at me with a crooked smile. I wondered when he would finally shut up.

         “You know Josh, I find it peculiar that neither of my daughters told me about you until now. You seem like a lovely young man, and I would have preferred if Bella would have told me that you were coming home with her tonight.”

         “That’s why I called you, mom,” Bella said, trying to justify herself.

         “Is it now? Well, Bella, would you come upstairs with me. You too Santos. I need to speak with both of you. Please make yourself comfortable, Josh.”

Oh lord, she scared me. Whenever mom told Bella and I she needed to speak with us, it was terrifying.

         As we strode up the stairs behind mom, Bella gave me another scowl. It was obvious she wanted to kill me after everything that went down between us today. Frankly, I wanted to slowly torture her and Josh till death did them part. Before we both tore each other’s heads clean off, mom spoke up.

“Girls, I’m confused about something, and I think you two could help me figure this out.” Oh no. I had it in my mind that she would accuse me first for not telling her about Josh, and Bella would get away with a slap on the wrist, like usual.

         “What the hell has been going these past couple of weeks? Bella, you get a boyfriend out of the blue and I don’t even find out about this cabrón until he shows up at my door.” Mom tried to keep her voice down, but her anger got the best of her when she turned to look at me.

         “Santos. I don’t know where to begin with you. Your behavior has been inexcusable. You’ve decided twice now not to drive your sister to and from school. You’ve got me thinking that this family is no longer important to you.”

That hurt. I could not admit it to myself then, but I was being selfish by trying to get my revenge.

         “Well, what do you have to say for yourselves?”

         “Mom,” Bella started.

That was different. I often tried to stand up for Bella, or at least say my piece before she got me into deeper shit.

         “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you by bringing Josh home. I really didn’t. But Santos and I had a fight at school today. I said something I shouldn’t have said to her, and she got angry with me. Rightfully, so, I might add.”

It was shocking to see my sister take accountability for her actions, even if she was being vague. I was disappointed in myself for not doing so before her, like I should have.

         “Thank you, Bella. I suppose that explains the call I got from your principal earlier this afternoon.”

My ears perked up at the mention of our principal calling mom. I began to wonder who the subject of that call was. Perhaps it was me, maybe it was both of us.

         “Do you have anything to say, Santos?”

No. Well, I did not particularly care to say anything that would make me look even worse than I already did.

         “I suppose I do. I have too much to say to both of you, but mostly Bella.” Mom crooked an eyebrow at me and nodded her head like she could read my mind by just staring at me.

         “Fine. You can start by explaining to your sister. I’m going downstairs to tell Josh to go home if he hasn’t already.”

As mom began to walk down the stairs, she mouthed out to me, you better talk. There was no way out of this now. I would not be able to cry in front of Bella and gain her sympathy, nor would she comfort me.

         “I’m waiting, Santos. What is that you have too much to say to me?” What was it? Well, for starters, it was my insecurity. It was my envy and possibly hatred that I held for my sister. All things I had too much of.

         “Listen, it’s not easy for me to say this, Bella. I don’t know how to say this without turning into a monster.”

Bella mumbled something under her breath, and I thought she said I was already a monster.

         “Well, it’s not like you’re an angel yourself. Sure, I’ve been pretty shitty to you these past two weeks, and that was immature, but I’ve tried to be kind to you all our lives Bella. I really have.”

Her lips were quivered after I said that.

         “Oh, really? Then why is it that you’ve suddenly decided to be a bitch?”

         “I thought I told you to never call me that again.”

This was turning into another fight, and I did not know what to do to stop it.

         “Maybe I wouldn’t have to call you one if you never acted like one. What did I ever do to you,” Bella said as tears began to form in the corners of her eyes.

         “I don’t know Bella. Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve always been perfect. Maybe it’s because Mom and dad always liked you more than me. Maybe it’s that you don’t even have to try to get attention from guys. Maybe it’s because you’re just better than me,”

I could not believe the things I had just said. What did I let slip from deep within my heart?

         Bella stayed quiet, understandably. How could she respond to something like that?

         Before either of us could process everything that had been said, Mom sprinted up the stairs. She looked like she had just seen a ghost. Mom had never looked so scared before, and I felt myself beginning to worry.

         “What’s wrong mama? Did something happen,” I asked. She clutched her chest and looked at both of us before she spoke.

         “When I told Josh he should go home, he said that you all had gotten into a huge fight at school. He told me that Santos said she was going to kill Bella and him, whenever she got the chance.” She didn’t seem to believe anything that she had just said, yet her face had pinched into one of frustration.

         “I also heard you girls fighting up here, and I knew I had to tell that punk to leave before it got worse.”

I let out a sigh of relief. Why would Josh say that? I was again reminded that he was an asshole. A little boy who always needed attention from everyone, and it did not seem to matter how he got it.

         “You didn’t actually listen to him, did you mama?” She rolled her eyes at me.

         “Of course not. But I knew I would have to look like Christ had come down from heaven again for you two to listen to me when I came up here,” she chuckled.

         “Now, Santos, what’s this I heard about your dad and I liking Bella more than you. You two weren’t exactly quiet.”

         “Nothing mama, I was just saying something out of anger,” I said.

She shook her head, knowing that I would not say anything right away.

         “Well, it’s not true. Your dad and I love both of you girls equally. Maybe you think I’m lying, but I’m not. You girls are the light in my life in all this darkness. I love you both wholeheartedly and unconditionally.”

That was sweet of her to say, but at the time it felt too cliched. I thought, of course, a mother would say something like that to her daughters who were fighting.

         “We love you too Mom,” Bella finally spoke up.

I nodded my head in agreement.

         “Yeah, I love you, mama. Bella, I apologize for everything I did to you today and these past two weeks. I hope you can forgive me,” I said.

***

         Bella did forgive me six months after she broke up with Josh. However, I could not forgive myself when I heard Josh had been pressuring Bella to have sex with him during prom. I was not at the dance that night. I was at home using my scholarship essays as an excuse to skip prom because I didn’t want to see Josh and Bella together, having the time of their lives. Or so I thought. Bella told me about all of this when I was in the first semester freshman year of college. Thankfully, she didn’t let Josh do anything to her, even though she told me he kissed her too many times without asking her, and then he kept asking her for more and more. She broke up with him the next day. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I should’ve been there to defend her. I should have watched my sister’s back, but instead, I allowed myself to wallow in a pool of self-pity.

By the midsemester of my sophomore year of college, I had decided to go to therapy. It was then that I realized how envious I had been all my life of my dear little sister.

I was reminded nearly every time I went home that I turned into the Green-eyed Monster because I was obsessing over my sister’s toxic relationship with Josh. I was focused on something I had no insight into. I hardly had any kind of knowledge about what Bella was going through that year, and it was all because I let that monster take over me.

 Yet I knew that monster had always been inside me. It had been waiting for the perfect opportunity to come out and consume me, and it would be back, I knew it would.

[spencer-is-dead]

Who wants to hear a really random story about how me and my cousins went to war on a regular basis (and I may or may not have bit my cousin)?

No one? Alright, let’s go.

So, to understand this whole mess you might want to know the hierarchy of my mom’s side of the family. My cousin Jesse P is the oldest, he’s like four years older than me, I am the second oldest, Micah P is after him and is Jesse’s brother, he’s a few months younger than me, Judah L is next, then my sister Sadie, and then Judah’s brother Peter, and then my brother Henry. Except Henry isn’t really a player in the game since I was around four to six when the war took place, so he’s like really little.

I was Jesse’s “partner” and Sadie was with Micah, since both of the L’s were too young to really play. When the cousins come over twice a year we would usually hang out with them. Now, one fateful day, Sadie and Micah took it upon themselves to push a rock into my grandmother’s fish pond. My grandmother didn’t catch them, but she had an inkling that it was them, so she asked them. And they had the NERVE, the absolute AUDACITY to say that some beavers pushed it in. So since then, Sadie and Micah have been known as the beavers. That was how the first faction got started.

The second faction came in 2016. I know this because this is the year the Trolls movie came out, and I am ashamed to admit that it was my hyperfixation for almost a year. Anyways, we all went to Toys R Us (RIP) every Christmas when the cousins were around. Jesse got a Robin (from Teen titans) costume. Now I obviously had no idea who robin was because my brain somehow did not connect the Batman robin and the costume. Anyways, I got a Poppy (from the trolls movie) headband, and me and Jesse both became the superhero squad known as the robins.

Me and Jesse had been fighting the Beavers long before we became the robins. I’m pretty sure the biting incident came before that. But yeah, we regularly went to war. And by war, I mean aggressive roughhousing. Like I would absolutely demolish this guy. Sometimes the L’s would join in (mostly Judah) but usually it was just the Ps and My family.

Eventually, the fighting got so bad that they had to pull me off of Micah like some sort of dog, and then they (the parents) took it upon themselves to ‘unite’ the factions and make them the Puppies, which was really stupid to me even back then.

Eventually, on a Disney trip in 2018, me and Micah started to get along, like some sort of enemies to friends thing. Now we’re not completely friends, but we bonded over our shared love of anime lmao, he’s really into demon slayer, and I think he watched SxF. Ah well, just goes to show how stupid these squabbles really were. But, hey, it was kind of fun to play games like these, minus the getting ripped to shreds part.

Hope you didn’t get too bored, my mom’s side of the family isn’t nearly as complicated as my dad’s side. I might share more about the weird things about my family, since I don’t think any of us are normal.

[be-side-my-self]

Okay, first of all I did the math wrong! Kaylee is only four years younger than Caleb, not five. Glad no one pointed it out XDD. I wasn't alone stupid. We're all stupid here. I changed it in the original posting but I want to add to this reblog chain because I like to keep everything in one place... but yeah that effectively would make Caleb 26 and Kaylee 22. But...

@blookitty I heard that the developers did Caleb's birth date math wrong and he's actually 10 years younger. So 16 in the game. Also, the end game screenshots of Silas as a human show him as at least 18 because he's TALL. Laura and Max escaped the afternoon of the full moon so weren't running around for long. Finally, growing up camping doesn't mean you understand how fast hay burns.

(If you still remember where you heard that Caleb was supposed to be 10 years younger feel free to share! if not that is fine too)

That is interesting because that would make Caleb younger than Kaylee which would explain the baby face. But then again it makes me wonder why Chris said that Caleb is working at the scrapyard in off season instead of going to school and that Kaylee still trying to figure out what she is doing, having her whole life in front of her.

Caleb being 16 in 2021 would make his birth year 2005 and we would assume that Amelia died that year instead of 1999, the year Kaylee was born. But that would also mean he would have been 9 years old (to a 15 year old Kaylee) when he started that fire so Kaylee was rescuing Silas.

And that... is... that would paint Kaylee even worse! Little nine year old brother, please start a fire...

Anyway... what would make this whole idea even more interesting is that Kaylee keeping her birthday (1999), Amelia and Chris would have been 26 when they got her. They would have been 32 when they got Caleb, which is both a better age to have children than 22 (canon birth of Caleb) and 26...

(in that case Amelia would have been the same age to have Caleb as Constance was when she got Travis! 22 years old!)

But also if Kaylee is the older one it would explain why Travis feels closer to her, being the oldest one himself and her having a six year gap to her little brother, compared to Travis and the eight year gap to Chris instead of her being the favorite because she is the only girl and the youngest.

But this is all guesswork and what if's there is still the fact that we have the birthdates on the family tree so that is what I am going to assume is canon. But again, everyone can look at it and take the hints the way they want (and fanfic AUs are doing the rest lol).

It would also be interesting if both Caleb and Kaylee were supposed to be like 5 years younger, which would make them 21 (*2000) and 17 (*2004) but also 15 and 11 when they started the fire which is more believable and would also support the photo of them from them visiting the carnival / Harum Scarum.

But in all cases I stay at my point that they should have known about the dangers of fire, even if not the special danger of a hayfire but a fire close to humans and in the middle of the woods. And I even more stay at my point that they should have asked their father or uncle for help!

But I know that is neither here nor there because otherwise we wouldn't have a game xD

Silas... he could be 18 but one theory I really like is the idea of Werewolf blood not only curing injury and basically bring you back from the dead but also keeping you young.

Which would explain why Jed, Travis and Bobby are very agile and strong despite their ages... (well Bobby is only 45 but it could maybe explain parts of his very strong physique too?) because they use werewolf blood on themselves regularly and certainly consume some by mistake... (I think it was Cellar who first had that idea!)

What I want to say is even though Silas might look 18 years old he could still be way older. The old poster from his cage looks like it's from the 80s... so he could be easily way in his 30 close to 40.

Then again, it would be weird if Kaylee would want to rescue a supposedly adult instead of a kid...

Honestly... no matter how we look at it... it does not really make sense ... or I just can't see it right now.

@alicestrange98 think 1999 and 1995 are really when Kaylee and Caleb were born. Caleb most likely had a baby face. I know several men who are twice as old as Caleb and sometimes I can also call them stupid boys. So I do believe that at 20 Caleb was a "stupid kid".

I hadn't planned on reblogging this post once more but since I do I can comment anyway.

This is a valid point! xD

Also Caleb being at least for 6 years a werewolf could also cause some serious baby-face.

I think I got blocked so I will now talk about Silas and post in his tag and you all have to suffer... or you like what I'm going to write.

The white wolf really is such a mysterie which is a pity. Whe know literally nothing but his name and what he kind of looks like.

All we know about him are from very untrustworthy sources.

One is Travis who is telling us what Kaylee told him.

Travis assumes that Eliza is not Silas' real mother. But we don't know that. Eliza looks really old so how likely is it? Well, it can still be true that Eliza is indeed Silas mother since the game is taking place in a world where werewolves, witches and ghosts are real.

But all of this just raises more question and we get literally no answers.

Like how old was/is Silas?

Travis says Kaylee wanted to help the child. this means that Silas was in his human form, right? And Travis also says that even six years later there are sightings of a feral albino child along the coast. Of course if Silas was something like 6 years old when Harum Scarum got destroyed, he could be 12 when he was finally "caught".

That again raises the question if no one ever tried to find him and bring him inside? A naked child in the woods that was seen multiple times?

Anyway let us look at the poster on the cage:

compared to the new flyer, we find all the time, the one from six years ago:

In the first one Eliza looks a lot younger. Of course that could have been the artist of the poster deciding to just pretty her up. But if you look at the design, the first ones looks older... like it could be from decades ago.

But Silas was already a part of the show then. So... how old is Silas really? Is he Elizas son? She sure seems to think so.

"Mommy is coming Silas!"

(Sorry the screenshots I have are bad)

Eliza sees Silas as her son. Why did she put him in a cage? Maybe it wasn't as bad as Kaylee thought it was? It might have been good enough that people thought it is just an act? The cage itself is rather big... Maybe peope thought the feral thing was also just an act?

That would be what I might assume... children who grow up in a circus often help out with the acts.

Either way, Eliza loved Silas enought to stay in the real world as a ghost and to try to kill off a whole family to protect him (and maybe bring him snacks/campers into the woods, who knows).

Anyway talking about age, another thing is that both Kaylee and Caleb are (if we believe the family tree) 21 (*1999) and 26 (*1995)

Not exactly teenagers, even though Chris titles them as such. The developers are just not exact with the ages and all characters are unreliable narrators.

Also Caleb was 20 when he started the fire to help his 15 year old sister to free a child. Instead of asking their cop-uncle to help?

All of this just seems weird. Caleb should have known better. He was already an adult who grew up in the woods and at camp. He should know about the dangers of fire.

Even if they were both only 10 years old they should have known better...

Another thing is that we have to assume is, that Silas was in his human form when he got "rescued". And still he bit Caleb. He is multiple times described as feral (again by Travis who is not a reliable source) but it might still be true.

The fact alone that Silas bit Caleb while probably being human is an indicator for Silas actually being feral. That raises the question of why was Silas like that? Was he like that from the beginning? Or was he just not raised adequately? OR if he really is older than he looks did he become more feral with time?

All of those are valid options.

Another thing that always strikes me as weird is Kaylees letter. The first time I heard it, it sounded like she is not sorry about what happened. It sounds like she is only sorry about how it turned out.

Though, many people died she does not sound like she feels any regret... maybe werewolves really become more feral with time?

Gammy, How long we gonna drag this shit out? I know family is the most important thing, but I wanna know what's outside the forest, outside this damn house and camp, and I sure as hell know that ain't about to happen 'cos of who we are. Maybe we can explain what's goin' on. Fuckin' show people. Then they'll know we got no control over it. I know you just tryin' to protect us, but one day you won't be here no more and right now it feels like we stuck in a dark hole. I can't sleep Gammy. Or if I do I dream about that fuckin' fire. We were just dumbass kids back then. I wish it never happened. Love, K xoxo

Also Kaylee writes that they were just dumbass kids, which might be true for her but not for her brother (again, 15 and 20).

BUT THEN we have this photo:

We don't know when it was made but it could be from six years ago? But Caleb does not look 5 years older than Kaylee... all of this is just one big mysterie.

Anyway I wish we would have learned more about Silas because the things we do learn are not really anything to go with... all we can do is take those and put our own preferred headcanons around them.

[cherrymoonvol6]

.

[ms-starflower]

Young Survivors — Maribat

It’s almost four am here, I just finished writing this and am just tired enough to actually go through and post it. And this title is the only thing my tired brain could come up with. Anyway. I haven't posted something I wrote in years, but all the Maribat I’ve read recently made me want to write something for it.

I don’t know if I’m ever going to write a 2 part, but if I do it’s definitely going to be Timari and contain a couple of typical Maribat tropes. And a pinch of salt.

Also, disclaimer: I haven't watched Miraculous in years and most of my DC knowlege come from fanfic or tumblr so... sorry not sorry.

Now with a part 2!

Next >

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mei Leyton’s oldest memories were of her mother, dolled up in pretty dresses and elegant makeup. In her daughter‘s eyes, Margaret Leyton was the most beautiful woman on earth.

For as long as she could remember, Mei would sit on the bed and watch as her mom would get ready to head to work. She had always loved those moments with her mom.

(How do I look, my little flower,” she said, twirling around Mei with a grin, making her laugh. It was Margaret’s favorite dress, a vintage halter blue dress with white accents and a white bow around the waist.

“Like a princess, mommy! The prettiest princess ever!”

“Oh no, no no no. You are the prettiest princess ever, my little flower.”)

She was four when her mother let her help for the first time, letting her pass along brushes and products. It’s then that she understood what were the purple marks on her mother that she covered with her makeup.

(“Life is not fair to us, my little flower,” she had said when Mei asked about it for the first time. “Being an orphan and pretty little girl in Gotham isn’t safe, and it doesn’t give much choice when it comes to survival.”

Mei didn’t understand then, but it didn’t matter anyway, life would make her understand soon enough.)

When Mei was seven, the GCPD found her mother’s body.

When she didn’t see her that morning, Mei hadn’t been worried; it wasn’t the first time. Mom would be home by noon, she always was. Until that day.

(The investigation wouldn’t get very far, it was just another prostitute of Camellia street, nobody cared about them. They were just there until they weren’t anymore.

Another girl would take her place in a couple of days. It was how those kinds of things worked in Gotham.)

That day was kind of blurry in her memory. She remembers being pulled out of class in the morning, and that the cop that told her about her mother’s death was very rude.

(“Your mom is dead, kid. A lad found her body in a dumpster this morning,” the guy had said as soon as she had sat down in the headmistress’ office. “Do you know who she worked for? Or on what side of the Camellia she stayed?” He had asked, halfheartedly.

Mei had shaken her head, even though she did; you don’t talk to cops in Gotham, mom always says said that it was the easiest way to get yourself killed, for people like them.

“Alright,” he had said, not surprised. “A social worker is going to pick you up in a bit to take you to your new home, kid.”

With that he had walked out of the office, not looking back. As if where she would end up was going to be home.)

She remembers that the social worker from CPS was a brunette with tan skin, and looked really overworked, but had a kind smile.

By the end of the day, she was taken to Elliot's Hall for Children, an overcrowded, understaffed orphanage with more kids than they could realistically care for.

(They don’t care for the children, they just put them there for a while and act as they do. Most children leave after a couple of days, and if they don’t, they get taken anyway.

Some come back with a police escort, some manage to survive in the streets, and nobody talks about the ones that are never seen again.

You don’t work there because you love children, and if you do, you don’t last for very long.)

Mei wasn’t stupid, her mother told her stories about those kinds of places. She came from those kinds of places, and Mei saw how the man in charge here had looked at her when the social worker dropped her off.

She wasn’t going to just stand here and wait for him to sell her back in Camellia street. Or worse, to the Candy Dealers.

Taking with her what she absolutely couldn’t leave behind, Mei made a choice her mother hadn’t been able to and took her chance with the streets.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mei was a Camellia kid and, as such, took to the streets easier than most newcomers. She had picked up a few tricks from her aunties and her mom, and it helped her to survive out here.

The only (glaring) differences were the absence of her mother, the lack of a permanent roof above her head, and the fact that she had to provide food and money herself now.

(One of her favorite places to pick up wallets was Gotham Academy, where Gotham’s rich send their children. The kids always had money on them, and it’s not like they would miss it.

Though she couldn’t go too many times in a row, not without risking being spotted and remembered.)

She had been on the streets for two months when she met Jason Todd; the boy who would become her family.

She heard him before she saw him, to be honest. It was an awful crashing noise coming from around the corner, and it made her look.

He was running like the devil was after him, and judging by how the cops running behind him were clutching their batons, she wasn’t that far from the truth.

The noises were because of a couple of trash cans the boy had spilled in their way to slow them down.

And he was coming her way.

Against her better judgment, she grabbed his arm when he passed in front of her, and pulled him behind her into her hideout. Quickly getting the plank of wood back in place, she put her hand on his mouth before he could say anything. With the dumpster in the alley, the entry was almost invisible from outside.

They stayed there as they heard the men pass in front of their hiding place, listening as they argued about where the boy could have disappeared before their voices faded completely.

They waited another couple of minutes before he removed the hand she still had on his mouth and crawled out of there.

“Thanks,” he muttered with a scowl. “I woulda’ve been just fine without help but… yeah, anyway.” Then he had started to walk in the direction he came from.

“Hey! Wait!” She said before she could think about it. “Are ya just gonna, like, go? Just like that?”

“Huh, yeah? What do ya want me to do?” He asked, looking back at her from above his shoulder without stopping his walk. “Stay to drink a cup of tea and talk about the weather?”

“Well.. no. But I just… I just wanna talk a bit, ya know?” She couldn’t really explain why she didn’t want him to leave yet, it’s not like he was the first street kid she had helped out. He just felt different, and somehow she knew he could become important to her.

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed before turning his head back to look forward. “The streets are not some daycare for princesses who want to make friends, kid.”

“Kid— hey, dumbass, you’re, like, ten years old! You’re a kid too! And I’m not a princess, I can survive alone just fine!” Before she knew it, she was walking behind him, the weird feeling forgotten for the offence his comment created. He looked back at her with a frown, before choosing to ignore her. Not letting that deter her, she rambled at him about all the ways why she wasn’t a kid any more than him.

“I thought you could survive alone?” He said, talking over her, when he realized that she wasn’t going to let him be.

“I can.”

“So why are ya following me? Tryin’ to drive me crazy?”

“Well, no. It’s just... that I can do it doesn't mean I want to.”

“Look, kid,” he said, ignoring her protest and talking over her, again. “You should just go back to whatever orphanage you came from, there is probably some nice little family who's gonna pick you up. Then you could make all the friends you want.”

“Like people actually adopt kids in this city. This is Gotham, you dummy, not ‘Annie’. Some rich white guy isn’t going to come and pick up children from the streets to make them live the Grand life.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” he growled out without pausing in his steps. “Still, you’re pretty enough, I’m sure some nice people would adopt you in a second if you let them.”

“Yeah, sure. Mom thought the same when she was a kid, and guess what? She started working on Camellia street when she was fourteen, but nobody asked her if she wanted to. Because she was pretty enough,” the little seven years old spat with venom, her eyes narrowed. The boy stopped walking, turning toward her with eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights. “Her best friend wasn’t, but mom said that she had the prettiest green eyes ever. When they found her body, she didn’t have eyes anymore, because some rich person paid to have pretty green eyes.”

“I— I didn’t—” he stuttered, eyes wide. With his scowl gone he looked so much younger, and Mei’s anger subdued. He wasn’t that much older than her, just a couple of years, maybe three or four, after all.

“It’s… okay, I guess. It’s Gotham. I just thought we both would have more chances to survive if we helped each other out. And, ya know, the company wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled, but when they resumed walking he slowed down enough to let her walk beside him without almost-running.

“Great! So, Annie, where are we going now?” She said with a beaming smile, bursting into laughter at his indignation and protest against the nickname.

(“Can’t you stop calling me Annie already?! I told you my name’s Jason!”

“Nope, Annie.”

“Well, then, that makes you Sandy, doesn't it? Ya do follow me around like a stray puppy.”

“I’m not a dog— wait, hold on a minute! I knew you saw the movie! You liar!”)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was ten when her life was put upside down once again, in the worst of ways.

It took practically no time before Jason “Annie” Todd became her brother in all but blood, it took longer for Jason to admit it, and they spend almost three years surviving together, barring the occasional trip back to the Children's Houses.

Though, they always found each other a couple of days after they escaped from those places.

Sometimes, Jason would plan something that he needed to do alone. Because of course, he did.

(“It’s the best job, my plan is perfect. Don’t worry, it’s gonna be great Sandy!”

“Yeah, and why can’t I come?”

“It’s too dangerous! Plus, you need to stay here and keep our things safe!”

“Yeah, if you say so, Annie.”)

That day was one of those days.

He was gone for less than an hour when they found her.

The Candy Dealers.

Mei paled when she saw them, wearing their nice suits and overly sweet smile. They told her they were social workers, specializing in homeless children, and offered her a lollipop. Social workers in Gotham don’t give candy to the kids, even the nice ones, and she knew from her time in Camellia street that the lollipop was drugged.

(“Never, ever, take candy from a Candy Dealer, Mei. Do you understand me? Never,” her mother told her gravely. “They put bad stuff in them, and if you put it in your mouth, they will take you away from me. I couldn’t live without you in my life, my little flower.”)

She tried to run, even before the first one got his hand totally outstretched toward her. But her panic made her stumble, and she was no match for them.

She tried to kick, and scream, and bite, but soon she felt a pinch in her neck, and everything was black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next period of her life was one she tried very hard to forget. For months she was moved, her and dozens of other people, from containers to containers, warehouse to warehouse. Twice they were put in a boat, the containers staying closed for so long, the next time she saw the moonlight, it burned her eyes.

She quickly learned that it was pointless to try to escape (and that Jason wouldn’t come and save her).

Then, one night, the place they were at was illuminated with blue and red lights and the police sirens were so loud, they drowned everything else.

She didn’t let herself hope, though. (She did, she hoped so hard her chest hurt.)

They (probably) weren’t in Gotham anymore, but her childhood didn’t instill her much trust in the police.

They did get them out. And she learned that they were in Paris now. In France. (That was a long way from Gotham.)

There were twenty-seven other people with her in the container. Four of which were kids, and only one other was also an orphan. They weren’t placed together, though. Because the kid had family back where he came from. Unlike her. (She had Jason. He was her family, but they didn’t listen.)

The French social workers took a while to know what to do with her exactly, but they didn’t want to send her back to Gotham (why not? She wanted to go back and find Jason!). So, in the meantime, they placed her in a foster family—one without any other kid, as per her therapist's advice. (The therapist didn’t know anything. She said Gotham wasn’t good for her, but Jason was in Gotham.)

Funnily enough, it ended up being a more permanent solution than previously considered, because the foster parents, Tom and Sabine, quickly fell in love with the little girl.

Not before long, Mei Leyton became Marinette Dupain-Cheng. (They changed her name to give her a ‘new beginning’ because her therapist thought it would be good for her. She didn’t want to have a ‘new beginning', she wanted to go back, to find Jason, to be the Sandy to his Annie. She was Mei, the Camellia’s kid, Sandy, the street’s kid and it was enough for her. She didn’t want to be Marinette, the bakers’ kid.)

So, when Mei was first put into the care of the Dupain-Cheng household, she regularly tried to run away. It was unsurprisingly harder than in Gotham, though. Tom and Sabine were way more attentive than Elliot Hall’s staff ever was, and more than a third of her tentatives were folded even before she was past the front door.

It took her three months (and forty-three unsuccessful tentatives) before she finally accepted that there would be no way for her to go back to Gotham. (Not that she had known how she would manage to do that before, her plan never got that far.) It took another six months before Tom and Sabine trusted her enough to let her wander the neighborhood alone.

The first thing she did the day her ‘new parents’ let her go to the library alone was to get to a public computer, and look Jason up. She didn’t really think she would find anything when she typed Jason Todd and Gotham in Google that day (maybe an obituary). She definitely didn't think she would find her best friend (brother) on the covers of so many tabloids declaring that he was Bruce Wayne’s ward.

She didn’t know how she should feel about the fact that he proved her wrong and became some real-life Annie. She wanted to feel angry, or hurt. Even more so when she realised that Wayne adopted him not even a full week after her (kidnapping) departure from Gotham, but…

But seeing Jason in the pictures… He looked so angry. Angrier than she ever saw him. And hurt. There was hurt hidden in his expression. It was well hidden but she could see it. (She did that, she was the one that hurted him. He probably thought she left him. That she wasn’t any better than his deadbeat of a father and abandoned him. What if he hates her now, because she was gone for so long?)

She needed to go back to Gotham, find him, and explain everything. She needed to tell him she didn’t want to leave him behind, that he was her family, and that it would never change. But Tom and Sabine didn’t want to take her back there, not before she was older, because she wasn’t ready yet, they said.

She didn’t care, though. No matter how long it would take her, she was going to go back. So, she slowly started to act like the perfect little girl. She didn’t really change, she just stopped bringing up Gotham so much, started to help more often in the house and at the bakery, and started to call Tom and Sabine Papa and Maman. (It wasn’t real, at first. But then, they just crawled into her heart against her will and became family. They didn’t replace her Mom or Jason, though. Nobody ever will.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

She started to heal. Slowly, without even realising. She opened up to a couple of children at her school, made friends with Nino, and sort of Frenemies (more enemy than friend, though) with Chloé Bourgeois. She picked up hobbies like sewing and designing, baking with Tom, or learning various martial arts with Sabine.

But she didn’t forget, going back to Gotham was still her ultimate goal. Until the news reached her, when she was twelve.

Jason Todd was dead.

Her best friend, her brother in everything but blood, her Annie. Dead. Jason was dead.

She felt like a part of her died with him, reading the words but not really processing. She let herself drown in her grief, closing up to everyone around her. Surprisingly, Chloé was the one that made her react. Literally slapping her to make her come back from the dead. (Not entirely, though. Mei, the Gothamite part of her, stayed dead with Jason. Only Marinette, the nice little parisian, came back.)

“I don’t really know what’s up with you, Dupain-Cheng,” she had said while Marinette cradled her sore cheek, her faux-contempt badly hiding her worry. “But you need to put yourself together. Tormenting you is no fun if you don’t react to it, and people are too worried for you to be afraid of me. Don’t make me call daddy on you.”

“I…” She had started, only to stop herself. She had looked back at Nino and Kim, both of whom were looking at her with poorly concealed worry. “Yeah, sorry Chloé.”

She pulled herself out of the worst of it after that, at the obvious relief of the people around her. None of which even knew why she was in this state. She still cried herself to sleep most nights, and sometimes felt like someone gouged out her heart with their bare hands, but she also started to let herself think of the good times. Started to let herself feel the good things happening around her, in the present.

Then, she saved the life of an old man, found magic earrings and a bug-mouse-kwami in her room that told her that she needed to become a hero and save Paris.

She thought of her big brother, of how he would always protect her when someone tried to rob them. Hide her, before even thinking of himself, when the cops would chase them down, trying to bring them back to Elliot's Hall. Give her all the food when they couldn’t get enough for the both of them. How he was a hero. Her Hero. And, really, there was only one thing she could say to that.

“Tikki, spots on!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

So. That's it. That was fun. I'm going to sleep now, goodnight.

Btw, Jason's super plan that day was totaly to steal the Batmobile's tires.

[mae-gi-writes]

Once Again (PT.I) | Iwaizumi Hajime (Haikyu!)

ONCE AGAIN : PART ONE 

Summary:  Iwaizumi’s broken marriage results in his five-year-old son trying to match him up with his primary school teacher, whom he thinks will make a wonderful replacement for a mother. 

Genre: fluff, slight angst, f!reader x dad! Iwaizumi 

A/N: There will be 2 or 3 parts of this oneshot! Depending on how long I feel like writing. Thanks for checking it out and stopping by! Let’s dive into some Iwa moments :,)

NEXT PART --> 

---

“What’s your return policy on rings?” 

The saleswoman smiles sympathetically behind the counter. That stupid sympathetic smile he’s been getting for weeks on end now. And it never stops; with his co-workers, with his family, his friends...

Iwaizumi’s sick of it. He’s sick of having to prove that he’s doing just fine, thank you very much. When in truth, his heart is constantly being torn apart and stomped upon as is people have nothing better to do than torture him in their free time. 

“I’m sorry, but these rings have been brought more than three years ago, and our warrant only lasts for three years,” the saleswoman keeps on talking but it doesn’t matter, for Iwaizumi can already feel the anger slowly creep up through the back of his neck, can already feel the vibrating emotions clogging up his sense of judgement. 

His fists clench at his sides upon impulse, the physical pain of his nails driving into his palms enough to remind him to stay cordial. It’s not the woman’s fault, the better part of him chants, it’s not her fault at all. 

“Fine,” he manages to grovel out, barely, “thanks anyway.” 

He all but storms out of the shop while shoving the rectangular box back in his pant pocket, and though it’s been more than four months since his ugly divorce with the woman he’d hoped to share the rest of his life with, the weight of their promise hangs heavy and hot upon his thigh. 

The thing is, Iwaizumi is mad. He is seething. If one were to give him a bat, he’d probably destroy the entire town by himself. Not because she was the one that cheated, not because she was the one going behind his back numerous times a week to seek out her lover when he’d been basically driven mad between Hoisuke’s cries and the stress of call meetings scheduled back to back. 

No, he’s angry. Because how the fuck could she do this to Hoisuke? How can she break the child’s heart like that, so ruthlessly, without even thinking twice about the consequences? 

Because if there is a victim in all this, then it’s definitely Hoisuke. And not only that, Hoisuke understands that his mother has been acting strange, that she doesn’t return at regular times and that her hugs now smell of cigarette smoke with a bittertaste of alcohol. 

Iwaizumi is so caught up in anger that he almost blunders past his battered Hyundai, red and chipping away at the corners. Still, this car holds so many memories, the good and the bad ones. 

“Can’t you get a newer car? I thought your company could sponsor you,” the ghost of his wife’s voice echoes through his head, a blatant reminder of all the things she’d found wrong in his life.

“Why?” he’d tilted his head around to fix his gaze on her figure bending over the sink. The TV was playing in the background and he thanked the gods that the morning comics were taking up Hoisuke’s attention, enough to distract him from his parents’ quibbles. 

“It’s just--so old and tacky.” 

“It still works well, doesn’t it? Why change it now?” 

She’d paused, hesitated slightly before blundering on, “It’s embarrassing. My colleagues keep asking if we're poor or something."

"Who cares what your colleagues think?"

Fuck her, Iwaizumi mentally swears as he turns on the ignition. Fuck her and all her needs for a better life. As if the life they had wasn't more than enough. Pulling out into the street to join the incoming traffic, he blinks away the sudden tears accumulating at the corner of his eyes and swears once more, this time aloud, glad that Hoisuke isn't in his presence when he gets in such a foul mood.

Iwaixumi may be angry. He may be filled with pent-up rage from the memory still attached to the day he'd discovered a used condom in their bathroom trash. But that doesn't mean it hurts any less.

That doesn't mean he does not still cry into his pillow over it every night.

----

"Please don't forget to do your homework for tomorrow! We'll correct them before moving on to the next chapter," you call out to your students as excited chatter fills the air. Students rise from their seats, some calling you bye and waving as they all file out of the classroom and you can't help the small smile lingering over your lips even though your feet are killing you.

Outside, parents have already lined up to collect their kids, the chatter and bustle of people ebbing away down the corridor as you let out a soft sigh.

"Miss?"

You jolt, not realizing that one of your students stands by the table wringing his hands, "what's wrong Hoisuke? Dad's not here yet?"

He shakes his head, watery eyes blinking up at you as he raises his thumb to his lips. You stand quickly and motion him to come close until he's within reach before your hand smoothes over the back of his head, "it's okay. He's probably stuck in traffic. I'll wait with you."

It's not surprising that parents get tardy once in a while and you're all too accustomed to those slight change in plans. Thankfully, you manage to distract the young boy with some coloured crayons and a piece of paper while you dial for his father's number.

It keeps ringing. No one picks up.

You try once more, one more time after that. But still, nothing. It shifts to voicemail. You decide it's better than nothing, "hi Iwaizumi-san. This is Y/N, Hoisuke's teacher. I was just wondering what time you would be picking up Hoisuke? Please call me as soon as possible. Thank you."

You end the call only to spot Hoisuke's eyes on you, intent and impatient for you to explain, "it's okay," you tell him with a smile, "he'll be here soon. Don't worry. Do you want to keep colouring some more?"

Hoisuke nods, to which your smile widens. It's those special moments, where your shyest students express themselves, that your chest warms with sympathy and affection. You've been there, you know how it feels like not to be heard, and you appreciate every interaction they offer you.

Being a primary school teacher is tough, especially since it wasn't in your original plans. But the satisfaction of bringing up some of the world's future leaders cancelled out all the late nights correcting tests and scrambled weekends trying to finish off as many worksheets as you possibly could for the coming week. You can’t complain, not when you have a decent salary that keeps bread on the table and a roof over your head.

A tug on your sleeve brings you back to Hoisuke looking up at you, a scribbled drawing of what seems to be of him and his dad. You feel yourself chuckling at how he's drawn both their hair in brown spikes, erratically extravagant and yet so close to reality.

"That's really good, Hoisuke!" You beam down at him, "what do you and your dad do on weekends?"

He shrugs shyly, head averted to the side so that there's no need for eye contact. And in the shyest voice he can muster up, he says:

"Daddy brings me...to see Mama," Hoisuke's words are barely above a mumble, "they live in different houses. They can't live together anymore."

Uneasiness squeeses in your stomach, followed by sympathy for this soft-hearted boy. You had overheard some of your colleagues giggling about Hoisuke's dad being attractive and single -- a combo that teachers adore -- but that doesn't mean that the weight of his words don't lay heavy on your own conscience.

"Do you miss your Mama a lot?" You ask him softly. Unconsciously, your hand finds a way to smooth over his head.

The boy doesn't pull away. Instead, he nods, "sometimes. But it is better this way. Daddy smiles more now. And there's no one to shout and make noise."

"Are you happy, Hoisuke? With your dad?"

He nods and to your amazement grins, "daddy is funny. He tells me not to swear but when he burns the food he always swears. And then he says to shush and tells me to close my ears. He also makes me pancakes every Saturday morning before I go see Mama."

Right on cue, a figure bursts through the open classroom door and both your heads snap to see a drenched, older version of Hoisuke who looks like he just finished running a marathon.

"I'm--" he wheezes, causing you to stand in alarm and concern, "I'm sorry I'm--so late--"

"Daddy, you forgot me again!" Comes Hoisuke's statement as you ask Iwaizumi if he's okay. He shakes off your worry with a flick of his hand and a shake of his head, "I'm fine. Sorry-- there's a nasty rain outside--"

"It's okay," you reassure him as Hoisuke practically barrels into his father and almosy knocks him off his feet.

"Sorry Hoisuke," you watch Iwaizumi's hardened features soften ever so slightly as he ruffles his son's hair. Then, looking back up at you as you bring over Hoisuke's backpack, he says, "thank you. For looking after him."

"It's no problem, honestly. We had fun didn't we?" You grin down at your student and are delighted to find Hoisuke grinning back up at you, albeit shyly, "I put his homework in his diary. He'll need to complete it for tomorrow so that he doesn't fall behind in class."

His father nods, "alright. Thanks."

"Daddy, your hair looks atrocious," Hoisuke says, tugging onto his shirt.

"Atrocious huh?" Iwazumi's eyebrow rise, "someone was listening in their English class today."

"Atrocious means that it looks bad. Daddy, your hair looks bad."

"Thanks buddy, I knew that. Now say bye to Miss Y/N."

"Bye bye, miss Y/N," Hoisuke says, wriggling his short arm through the air as you wave back with a giggle. His father nods at you in silent thanks, makes a move to walk out of the class, only to swivel back to you just as you're collecting your bag.

"Uhm," he clears his throat, causing you to jump slightly, "yes?" You blink back at him and try hard not to stare at the way his white shirt clings to his toned chest, translucent from the rain.

"Do you need a ride?"

-----

You've known Iwaizumi since high school. Having graduated just two years later than he did, his reputation had preceded him throughout the school halls even though you'd never actually had any face to face interaction with the said man. Iwaizumi doesn't know this of course and you are adamant about keeping it a secret. But that plan seems to be unraveling before your very eyes the moment your small talk turns towards your academic history.

"You're from Aoba Johsai?" His surprised glance doesn't escape your notice, especially since that's the most reaction you've gotten out of him.

"Yeah," your eyes stay glued to the row of cars crawling through the motorway, "I remember you went there too, right?"

"How'd you know?"

"You were Aoba's ace volleyball player. Everyone knew who you were."

His silence answers you and for a moment, you fear that you might have offended him. Not that it's something to be offended about.

Before you try to scratch your brain for some kind of response -- any response -- Hoisuke pipes up from the back seat, "Daddy was famous back when he was in high school. He hit the ball like kapow! And jumped so high he can touch the sky."

"Oh? Have you seen him on camera?" You turn slightly, a small smile dangling off your lips at how adorably amazed and excited Hoisuke seems to be.

"Yeah! His spikes are so awesome! It goes pow! And it zooms! Like a cannon ball!"

You burst out laughing, "yes, your father was amazing whenever he was on the court. Every girl in our class had a crush on him."

"What's a crush?"

"Hmm, you know when you really like someone. You like like them, you want to be together with them. Like, girlfriend and boyfriend."

"Oh," Hoisuke draws out, "did you really like daddy too?"

"Yeah I did."

"What?" Iwaizumi almost chokes on his own spit at the same time traffic eases and you're glad for the distraction, for you're certain there's a scattering of colour upon your cheeks.

"Do you really like him now?" Hoisuke persists, undoubtly untouched by the embarrassment taking over his father's features and you swear that more than ever, you want to laugh at how flustered Iwaizumi looks.

You decide to play nice though and instead turn to wink at your student, "that's a secret for me to keep."

You don't have to look twice to know that the man beside you is bursting into hot flames.

-----

"Did you really like Mama before you started living separately?"

Iwaizumi swears that he's never felt so uncomfortable in his life. Not when he's had to state that he was divorced, not when he had to sign divorce papers half drunk off his ass. Not even when he'd raged after his said ex-wife after finding a tie that wasn't his own in his laundry pile.

Now is probably a good definition of what uncomfortable means.

"You're not gonna let me off the hook are you?" He steals a glance at Hoisuke from over his shoulder while stirring the vegetable curry, "yes, I really liked your mother."

"Did she?"

The word 'yes' almost slips past his mouth. Except, he isn't sure whether that's the truth and decides to shoot back with, "have you finished your homework, Hoisuke? You know it's due tomorrow. Miss Y/N said so."

"Do you really like miss Y/N?"

"What?" Iwaizumi frowns, "well--no. Not like that."

"Why?" His son whines, "I really really like Miss Y/N. She's nice to me and she never shouts. And she bakes good cookies!"

"How'd you know that?" Iwaizumi leans over to taste a bit of the sauce. Not bad, he thinks and mentally pats himself on the back. A few weeks ago, he would've probably burnt the entire house down.

"Because she bakes them every month. Every time we finish a test."

"That's nice of her."

"Yes," there's a pause as the man fishes out a bowl in which to serve the curry, "daddy, what do you do when you really like someone? Do you marry them like you and Mama did?"

"Uh--yeah. Sure."

"Then does that mean I need to marry Miss Y/N if I really like her?"

"Yup."

"Daddy!"

Iwaizumi bursts out laughing. Turning off the stovetop and bringing the bowl over to the dining table, he reaches out to ruffle his son's hair with a grin, "you're the one who has a crush on miss Y/N."

"She's too old for me Daddy," grumbles Hoisuke while scooping out two rice bowls as the pair sit down for dinner, "but she'll be good for you."

"Not that simple, buddy," Iwaizumi says as he dumps two spoonfuls of curry into his son's bowl, before doing the same with his own, "there's a difference between like and love."

A frown falls over his son's face, so like his own that Iwaizumi can't help but chuckle, "what is the difference?"

"Well, when you really like someone, you might want to get to know them better. Or play with them andd shit--stuff like that. When you love someone, it's..." he hesitates, "it's different."

"Why?"

There goes that innocent question that punctures his chesy a little too deeply. The brown-haired man steadies his gaze upon the calendar fixed on the wall opposite him as he answers with:

"When you love someone, you want to live with them. You want to start a family with them. Their happiness," his brown orbs switch back to his son's focused attention, "their happiness is all that matters."

Maybe it's the fact that he's not used to speaking so truthfully about such things. Maybe it's just Hoisuke who suddenly realizes the layers hidden beneath his father's poker-faced exterior. But for a moment, neither of them speak, as if bewitched by a silencing spell if broken by the scraping of cutlery against porcelain.

"Did you love mama?"

Hoisuke's voice is small, fragile. So fragile that Iwaizumi pauses just as his spoon reaches his mouth, glancing over at his boy. His beautiful boy.

"Yeah."

Another short pause. "Did she love me?"

"Of course she did," Iwaizumi's face softens. To be honest, Hoisuke hadn't showed any kind of restraint during the entire divorce procedure, had merely accepted things as they had unfolded before his very eyes. But sometimes, Iwaizumi fears his son might be keeping more from him than he lets on.

He ressembles his mother a lot in that sense.

"Then," wet coffee-coloured eyes blink up at him, lips trembling with a hoarse whisper, "why'd she leave?"

Before his father can say anything, the young boy bursts into tears.

Iwaizumi rushes over, clasping Hoisuke in his embrace as the child buries his face into his neck and cries and cries and cries. His little heart beats like wild horses and with every sob echoing through hid body, Iwaizumi feels his own heart break over and over again. One of his hands rub comforting circles of Hoisuke's back, while the other smoothes over the back of his head as he murmurs soft nothings in hopes that it will calm down the young child.

"I want--" Hoisuke's voice is thick with tears, "I want Mama--"

"Shh, hey it's okay," Iwaizumi murmurs out, "s'alright kiddo. I got you."

Hoisuke falls asleep eventually, the soft sniffles dying out into even breaths as he slumps against his father’s shoulder, probably tired out from his earlier emotions. Iwaizumi takes this as his chance to tuck the boy into bed, glad that he’d listened to the small subconscious in his head telling him that Hoisuke would be falling asleep sooner rather than latter. 

As he smoothes over his son’s hair, a part of him wonders how much Hoisuke is still silently hurting from his mother’s departure. He can’t imagine it; suddenly changing lives like you’ve merely changed your bed sheets and Iwaizumi had been so caught up in his own heartbreak, in his own bout of silent rage, that he’d forgotten that along the way, Hoisuke was also a victim to their endless fighting, the cold war that had broken his family apart. 

He wishes he can take the pain away, ease it somehow. But it’s not that simple. The truth is, no one can actually predict how a heart gets broken, nor when it does. The only evidence are the repurcussions. And it’s only now that Iwaizumi gets to see it truly take its form. 

Leaning over to press a soft kiss to Hoisuke’s forehead, Iwaizumi murmurs his silent goodnight before walking out and gently closing the bedroom door behind him. 

He leans onto the hard wooden surface and rubs his eyes. It is only upon pulling them away that he takes notice of the family photograph hanging on the opposite wall, frozen smiles wrapped up in lies.

He really needs to take that down.

-----