#anyways yeah the inbox will be closed for like maybe a week MAX

[notyouraryang0dd3ss]

ok temporarily closing my inbox again 😭

[cafedanslanuit]

♡   f l u f f v e m b e r   2 0 2 0   ♡ 

♡  week one  —  kageyama tobio   |   long-distance relationship

♡  summary  —   getting into a relationship with kageyama was close to impossible, that you knew. nevertheless, that didn’t stop you from developing feelings for him and eventually becoming more than friends. he was constantly training and didn’t have a lot of time to spend by your side, but once kageyama found himself remembering your laugh on his way home, he decided to do whatever it took to make the relationship work.

♡  playlist

the moon song   -   beabadoobee & oscar lang home   -   bruno major blueberry eyes   -   max & suga

♡  masterlist  ♡

Every morning, Kageyama wakes up at the same hour. He puts on his running shoes, grabs his phone, keys and earphones and hits the streets. It’s been his routine since he started playing volleyball. While he ran, Kageyama preferred to keep his mind focused in his steps, the weight he was putting on his heels and toes, his heart rhythm and his mind replaying the sets he had done the day before. He didn’t see running as something he did before he trained, but as part of the training itself. Kageyama was very adamant against listening to music or a podcast during his morning runs. 

Everything changed after he met you.

Kageyama puts on his earphones and goes through his mail inbox. Like most days, he sees your name on his most recent unopened email. He downloads the audio attachment and presses play before shoving his phone back to his pocket.

“Good morning Tobio!”

His lip twitches upward.

“So, you must be sleeping right now. Which sucks! Because I just got home from work. Yes, I got safe, don’t worry. Mika and her boyfriend dropped me at my place right now. Remember Mika, my coworker? Yeah. Hey boyfriend always picks her up when we have shifts until one in the morning and they drive me home. I’m kind of tired right now.”

Kageyama hears a long yawn on your side, followed by a thud that he imagines it’s you laying on your bed.

“Let me put on some music,” you say, and a few seconds later he listens to a tune he thinks he’s heard before. “Today’s classes were just okay. I got a grade back but it wasn’t what I expected.”

“But, what can you do?” Kageyama mouths along with your voice.

“Work was also okay. Mika and I spent most of the night talking, she had had a small fight with her boyfriend and asked me for advice. It wasn’t really a big thing, you see…”

The next few minutes, Kageyama listens to you ramble about your friend and her boyfriend, but he has to admit he is paying more attention to your voice than what you were saying. He imagines himself watching you talk and the expressions he had seen you make the first time he had seen you. The tip of your tongue sticking out between your teeth after you laughed at something you shouldn’t have laughed about, the slight pout on your lips as you talked about something you didn’t like or the attentive way your eyes fixated on him while he talked about volleyball.

“Anyway, I know you don’t really care about this,” you say. “But it’s really nice to imagine you listening to me talk during your morning runs. Is it already cold there? I hope you put something on if it is. Not trying to tell you what to do. I know you, more than anyone, take your health very seriously, but I guess I can’t help but worry,” you chuckle. You stay quiet for a moment, and Kageyama basks in the comfort your silence provides.

His mind goes back to those Sunday nights when he’s watching past games on his laptop while he’s face timing with you. You are usually taking a cup of coffee, trying to forget you’ve only slept five hours after getting home from your shift at the bar. You know he has to get to bed in a couple of hours so he can get enough rest for this Monday practice, so you treasure those small moments when the time difference and both your busy schedules let you share a moment. Kageyama’s eyes are fixated on his laptop and you take the opportunity to revise some of your lessons, most of the time finding out there was a paper due next week you had forgotten about.

Every once in a while you take a look at your phone and see Kageyama’s dark eyes glued to his laptop. You bury your nose on the Schweiden Adlers hoodie he sent you last month and even if your boyfriend’s smell has almost completely worn off, you still find comfort in wearing his clothes.

When Kageyama comes back to his house to get ready for training, your voice is no longer in his ears. You always made sure not to surpass the usual time he spends running. He takes a look at the dual clock on his phone and realizes you must be still in class, so he refrains from sending a text and hops on the shower.

The fourteen hour difference between the both of you had seemed like a wall impossible to climb. Not only that but his intense training schedule plus your uni classes and your part time job also took most of your energy and it was a rare occurrence that you could sit in front of a computer at the same time.

But the connection was something he had never experienced before. He had been invited to a foreign university overseas for a tournament. The day before it started, the team had gone to the campus to get to know the facilities, and after they were done, Kageyama had left them to buy something to drink from a vending machine. Not being able to find any, he asked for directions and took the elevator to the cafeteria, not noticing someone carrying a couple of books under their arms standing next to him.

Now it seemed almost fate to remember how the elevator malfunctioned and he had to spend the next two hours with you. After pressing the Emergency button and being told it would be a while, you introduced yourself with a smile. He wasn’t really enthusiastic about getting to know each other but it all changed after he mentioned he was there because of a volleyball tournament. Kageyama can still remember your eyes widening and the questions that followed, all centered about his true passion. A few minutes later, you were sitting on the floor of the elevator, while he explained in broken English every position in volleyball and what they were supposed to do. Even though you hadn’t played any sports seriously outside of school, the fact this guy was talented enough to get invited overseas to play had spiked your attention, and you asked question after question so you could understand more about volleyball.

“So the setter is basically the key player, right?” you had asked, while he scribbled on the notebook you had lent him so he could explain.

Kageyama tried not to smile. He really did.

After you asked him about the tournament schedule and wrote down the name of his team, you promised you would do your best to make it to the game. Kageyama had never really cared about people coming to his games to watch but, once he had won the first game as was leaving the court, his eyes unexpectedly met yours and he saw you waving at him for the bleachers with a smile. He nodded at you and as he disappeared through the gym door he thought maybe someone going to see his games wasn’t so bad.

One week later, Kageyama’s team had won the tournament, and since you had asked for his number while waiting inside the elevator, you offered to buy him something from the cafeteria after the final match. This time, he took the time to listen to you ramble about your career, and how enthusiastic you were about it. He didn’t understand most of the things you talked about, most of your words sounding foreign and new to him. But the one detail he did recognize at first glance was the way your pupils dilated while you spoke. Your hands moved faster than usual as you tried to explain, and you even used the salt shaker on the table as a prop to help you out. The glimmer in your eyes was the same nature as the burn he used to feel in his chest whenever he talked about volleyball. You promised to stay in contact and gave him a small but tight hug when it was his time to leave. He hoped you didn’t notice the pink tint on his cheeks before you went away.

Your love confession came two months after he was back in Japan, followed by the longest and hardest conversation the two of you had ever had. He explained his strict training schedule and you talked about your university increasing the hardness of the classes you took and how little time you had left. A long silence filled the room, and you realized maybe you should have kept the confession to yourself. It was never going to work. There were too many impediments so maybe it would have been better to push down whatever you felt. In the end, you two weren’t supposed to meet and--

“I’d like to try it.”

You can still remember the blush on his cheeks and furrowed eyebrows after blurting out those words. You smiled brightly at him and nodded, enthusiastically.

“I’d like to try too.”

It had been one year and six months since then. To find someone who not only understood his crazy schedule but was passionate about their own work felt surreal to Kageyama. Your plan was to finish your career in your home country and then move to Japan. You had been auditing the Japanese classes at your uni and taking a part time job to be able to support yourself as you settled in a new country. All of those changes meant less time to be able to talk with Kageyama as much as you did before. He assured you he understood, even if he would never admit out loud he missed you as well.

The situation prompted you to find other ways to feel close to him, hence why Kageyama woke up almost every day with a new audio file from you. You went from talking about your day to making him listen to music and even took the chance to practice your japanese. His English listening skills had also gotten better in the past year, all thanks to talking with you and how you would slow down your pace and repeat yourself if he ever needed to. While you recorded your audios after work, he usually recorded his after practice while he walked home from practice. Even if he was always a little worried about the length, you always made sure to send him messages about how happy you were to hear his voice while you ate your lunch or walked to your job after your classes.

Kageyama finishes his shower and comes back to his room. He gets ready in less than ten minutes in silence, knowing he doesn’t have any time to spare if he wants to get to the practice in time. Winter break is a month away, and he wants to give his best before he’s forced to step away for a couple of weeks. He has never liked holidays stepping in his routine, but he knows there was nothing he could do but endure and wait for his training to resume.

Before he leaves, Kageyama checks his phone again and opens the newest email.

Congratulations! Your flight booking is confirmed.

Okay, maybe he is looking forward to winter break after all.

[yikesharringrove]

ok so i just had a dream about this and i feel the need to tell you because its prime protective Billy shit. So after the whole mind flayed thing Steve and Billy get to be pretty close friends, and almost immediately they both fall for each other HARD, but both of them refuse to believe the other could ever like them, despite Robin screaming at both of them to just ask the other one out already. (pt.)

(pt.2) one day some random dude comes into the video store and starts flirting with steve, who figures he hasn’t gone on a date since Nancy, the guys cute, sure he’s not Billy but he seems nice enough and steve is also just very lonely, so they set up a date for that Friday at 6:00 and Steve is pretty excited. When he gets to his house and tells Billy, who was there for their wednesday horror movie night, billy tried to seem happy for him even though he ready to kill this guy

(pt.3) Billy does a pretty decent job at hiding his feelings about the date, and he doesn’t want to hold Steve back, but when he gets home he calls Robin and bitches for a sold 30 minutes, she just tells him if he’d got his shit together and just asked Steve our this wouldn’t be a problem. So the day of the date rolls around and Billy doesn’t see Steve all day, can’t bring himself to see him so excite to go date someone else. Around 6:15 his phone buzzes with a call from Steve             (pt.4) he answers and when he does Steve sounds awful, he’s been crying for a while. Asks if Billy can come pick him up, and billy speeds his way there. When he shows up and sees steve leaning against the brick wall rubbing away tears he loses it. Asks him what happened and Steve quietly tells him his date was a huge asshole, flirted with the waitress, pointed out the scar on steve’s hairline and told him he’d be a lot cuter without it, but don’t worry you’re still good enough for a fuck

(pt.5) Billy is ready to kill someone, he hugs steve and drags him to his car and tells him to stay put, slams the door and gets inside before steve can argue, find the guys pretty quickly, grabs him by the collar and spits out some pretty harsh words drops him to the floor and leaves. They are both quiet on the drive back but when billy drops steve off at his house he sheepishly asks him to stay, when billy tells him it’s a bad idea steve says okay and kisses him goodnight. Billy almost faints. 

I am SO SORRY this took a thousand years, it got a lil lost in my inbox.This is modern, Billy got possessed but the kids burned it outta him, everything else is canon.

“Who the fuck is that?”

Billy was “helping” Robin re-shelve, which meant he was pulling random movies off their shelves and putting them in different spots until she noticed and yelled at him.

She looked in the direction Billy was glaring, looked to see Steve batting his eyes as that guy, the tall jocky guy that comes in a few days a week to flirt with Steve.

“Oh, that’s Ben. He comes in all the time and flirts with Steve.” Billy’s eyes were dark.

“And does Steve, does he always, flirt back?” Robin rolled her eyes. Billy was so bad at acting nonchalant.

“Yeah, Dingus really has a thing for him. Talks to me nonstop about him.” Of course he talks about Billy way more often, but Robin is over the two of them being so fucking oblivious.

“Oh. Good for him.” Billy was blinking a lot.

Steve was leaning over the counter, was giggling like a schoolgirl.

The bell over the door jingled. Billy was gone.

-

Wednesday nights had become a tradition. Billy and Robin would come over to Steve’s, would take turns picking scarier and scarier movies.

It all started because Robin thought Steve should expand his horizons, and Billy liked the way Steve would get scared, would hide in Billy, would shove his face into his chest, or his arm, or wiggle his way into his lap.

But he was not in the mood for a movie tonight. Not after watching the way Steve had gone all bashful earlier.

But he found himself pushing open the double doors anyway.

“Bill! Guess what!” Steve was jamming around the kitchen in thick socks and little shorts, a faded Hawkins High Swim Team sweatshirt, and his glasses, like he was trying to fucking kill Billy with how adorable he is. “I got a date!” Billy’s heart thumped to a stop.

“You, you what?”

“I got a date! With that cute Benny that comes into Family Video. He asked me out! We’re gonna go to dinner on Friday!” Steve was so fucking excited. Billy couldn’t find it within himself to bring down the mood. “I just, you know how lonely I’ve been, and, I haven’t been on a date since Nancy.”

Steve was rambling, going on and on about this fucking guy. Was talking over the movie, which normally, Billy would think was kinda cute, but it was all, Benny said the SWEETEST thing, or look at this meme Benny sent.

Billy was about four second from tearing his hair out.

He was driving Robin home after movie night needed to vent.

“Look, I’m not saying I want Steve to be unhappy. I want him to be so happy. But I just, I get a bad feeling about that Benjamin guy.” Robin rolled her eyes.

“Well if you had gotten your head outta your ass and just asked Steve out like I fucking told you to, you, Billiam could be going on a date with our sweet Dingus.”

“I just, after everything this summer, I didn’t know if, if he was ready, and he never really seemed the same after the Nancy shit.”

“That’s a lame excuse and you know it.”

It was. And he knew it.

He avoided Steve the next two days. Couldn’t deal with all the excited posts on Steve’s secret Insatgram account, the one just for his friends.

Apparently he had done a face mask, had taken a fucking candlelit bath. He posted outfit options on his story.

Billy spent Friday chain-smoking in bed, yelling at Max whenever he got kicked off Netflix for too many screen in use.

Steve was getting picked up at 6. Had been posting a fucking countdown on his story. Billy wanted to crawl into a hole and fucking die.

When 6 came, Billy was working out, listening to loud, angry music as he lifted weights. He was trying his fucking best to keep his mind off of Steve, that fucking Benjamin.

But his music was interrupted by his phone going off, Steve’s contact picture filling the screen, a silly one Billy loved of Robin shoving marshmallows into his mouth. He could fit 17.

“What’s up?” It was only half past 6. Something must’ve happened. “Stevie, are you okay?” He could hear Steve sniffling.

“Bill, could you come pick me up?”

Billy was already out the door.”

“Drop your location, Pretty Boy. I’m on my way right now. Don’t move. I’ll be there soon.” Billy sped to the diner.

He saw Steve sitting on the curb outside, his face buried into his knees.

He had gone with outfit option number 4 from his Instagram, a thick cardigan, made of soft dark green wool, his nice jeans, the ones that made his ass look great, and a soft t-shirt. His hair was the most done Billy had seen it in a while. It made Billy’s heart break.

He pulled into a spot, dropping to sit next to Steve.

“You wanna talk about it?” His eyes were red-rimmed, glazed over as he loked at Billy.

“He was, he was so different from how he, how he was. He kept ignoring me, and flirting with the waitress, and he kept like, pointing out the scars on my face, like, like the one here,” he poked at his hairline. “And he said, I’d cuter without it, but, but that I’m still okay for a fuck if he took me face down, because, because my ass is the only thing I got goin’ for me-” Billy pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry, Baby. You’re so much better than that, than him.” He kissed the mark on Steve’s hairline. “He still in there?”

“Yeah. I asked him to take me home and he said if I was gonna give him blueballs he might as well fuck the waitress. Since she’s hotter than me anyhow.”

“Stay here.” Billy got up, cracking his neck as he walked into the diner. He found the guy right away, was smiling so sleazy at the waitress in question who looked like she’d rather die than go out with him, but needed a good tip. He stared at her ass when she walked away.

Billy sat in the seat across from his.

“So, Benjamin. Figured you and I ought the have a little chat.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“My name’s Billy.” Ben rolled his eyes.

“God, Steve wouldn’t shut the fuck up about you.” Billy’s heart swelled, but he was on a mission.

“Steve is the best person in this whole God-forsaken world. And you dare treat him like he’s shit on your shoe. You’re fucking disgusting.” He reached up, pulling on the collar of his shirt, slamming his nose into the table, letting his head bounce back up.

“What the fuck, you psycho.”

“He is like sunshine, he is the only thing good in this fucking town, and you have the audacity to hurt him. He is made of love, and you could;ve had him, but you’re a garbage human who deserves jack shit.” He stood from the table, Ben’s nose bleeding into a mad of napkins.

“If you don’t at least text him an apology, I will be breaking more than just your nose.”

Billy stood up, sweeping out of the diner to find Steve waiting by the passenger seat of his car. They drove to Steve’s in silence apart from the odd sniffle from Steve.

They sat for a moment in his drive way, the car off, crickets chirping in the bushes.

“I heard what you said.” Steve’s eyes were wide, his face shadowed.

“And?”

“I didn’t know you felt like that. About me I mean.” Billy sighed.

“Stevie, you are probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I, I love you.” Billy was fidgeting with the steering wheel.

“You mean it?” Billy just nodded, looking straight ahead through the windshield at Steve’s house. “I love you too. Like, a lot. I just thought, maybe you didn’t, didn’t feel the same.” Billy whipped around to look at Steve, see if he was lying.

All he say on his face was such happiness at Billy’s admission.

“You should stay the night.” Steve’s hand was closing around his wrist.

“Look, if we’re gonna do this, I wanna do it right. I wanna, take you out, and spend time with you in a, in a romantic way before we, before we do anything.” Steve’s eyes were so soft.

“Okay. You wanna go out tomorrow? We can do something chill, like, like see a movie.”

“I would really like that, Pretty Boy.” He took Steve’s hand.

“Can I kiss you goodnight, then? Kiss you thanks for saving me back there. Being my knight in shining armor, defending my honor and all that?” Billy’s mind was spinning as he breathed out yeah.

Kissing Steve was as perfect as he always thought it would be.

His pretty lips were soft, and he made these breathy little noises into Billy’s mouth, their hands were still clasped together, Steve’s other holding onto Billy’s bicep, Billy weaving a hand into Steve’s hair.

Steve’s eyes were closed when they pulled apart, they were soft when he blinked them open.

“So, tomorrow then.” Billy grinned, pressing a kiss to his nose.

“Tomorrow, Pretty Boy. I’ll call you in the morning. We’ll talk.” Steve danced like a loser all the way up to his porch, making Billy laugh and flash his headlights. He stumbled through the front door.

Billy texted Robin right when he got home, sent her a simple Benjamin’s the worst but you’ll be happy to know I pulled my head outta my ass :)

[mldrgrl]

Last First Kiss

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG-13 Summary: This is for all the Ed Jerse Anons sitting in my inbox who all want a variation on the theme of Scully not being satisfied that Ed would be the last man she was with.

The appointments were on the calendar for the third Thursday on the month for six months, not a secret, but they were simply marked “Scully - doctor,” like they were run of the mill check-ups and not aggressive chemotherapy.  Every third Friday was marked “Scully - out of office.”

Mulder did his best not to be too solicitous, wished her well when she packed up her things before lunch, made lame jokes about how much he’d get done without her ripping apart his theories for a day.  He didn’t know how she spent her weekends after those appointments, she could be intensely private about certain aspects of herself, her health being one of them, but it was obvious from the paleness of her cheeks, the shadows under her eyes, and the constant tremor her body seemed to have come Monday, that she suffered.

He wished she wouldn’t push herself so hard, but then again, she was a fighter.  He had to admit he was a bit in awe of her determination not to let such a grim diagnosis stop her from doing anything.  It had certainly stopped him.  Though she didn’t know it, his free time was mostly devoted to finding answers.  He didn’t care who he had to go through to find the men who gave her this disease.  If they knew how to give it to her, they knew how to take it back.

As the months went by though, the nosebleeds only got worse and at a certain point, she’d even stopped demanding that he not look at her when she did her best to clean herself up or given him dirty, ungrateful glares when he brought out the packet of tissues he’d started carrying around in his breast pocket and slipped them into her hand.  She’d stopped locking the connecting doors of their motel rooms or trying to disguise the sound of her retching in the middle of the night by running the sink at full blast.  The last two times, she’d even let him kneel beside her and dab her cheeks and the back of her neck with a cool washcloth as she limply clung to the side of the toilet.  

If he wasn’t scared before, he was now.  He could persevere as long as she was, but the moment she looked up at him with a tired, resigned gaze that told him he was finally allowed to see her like this because it didn’t matter anymore, he knew she had given up.  And now, he was desperate for those answers.

Appointment number five loomed like a thundercloud.  Mulder was tense all week and Scully was quiet.  Time moved like molasses Thursday morning.  He tried to focus on the expense report for their last case, but his mind kept wandering to ways he might offer his services to help her through the weekend.  Even with the minutes dragging by, suddenly she was shutting her computer down and he hadn’t come up with anything better than, “if you need anything, you know you can call me.”

Scully left with a murmured “see you Monday,” and he chickened out on saying anything more than a soft goodbye.  He bit his lip and as soon as he heard the elevator ding and the doors close, he choked on a quiet sob he’d been reigning in.  As quickly as he let his emotions overtake him, he pulled himself back together and pounded a fist against the top of his desk.  Scully was out there bravely fighting a losing battle alone and he wasn’t helping her by crying at his desk.  It was time for his check-in with the Gunmen, who were following up on leads in his stead.

But, the boys had nothing for him.  Nothing new, anyway.  Mulder cursed.  He was pretty sure his best bet was the black-lunged sonofabitch that seemed to pull all the strings from every direction and he’d been trying to lure the old man out of hiding for weeks to no avail.  There had to be something he could do.

He stayed at the office well into the evening, poring over his files for some connection he might have missed.  There was so much there and yet nothing at all.  He was just digging deeper rabbit holes with every file.  He finally went home when he felt like his vision was becoming too blurry to ready anything further, but he was back at it again before the sun even came up.  Strewn across his desk and the floor was Scully’s abduction file, the files on Max Fenig, Duane Barry, the women in Allentown, the personnel file he’d poached on Alex Krycek, and others bearing the slightest hint of alien activity.

Halfway through the day, it dawned on him that maybe he should change his tactic.  He wasn’t a religious man, but Scully was a religious woman, and there were examples of miraculous recoveries all over the world.  He gathered up the mess he’d made and made another printing out reams of research on holy sites and unexplained recoveries from illnesses.  Amongst them all, he found one that appealed.  In fact, it excited him so much that he found himself grabbing he jacket and driving to Scully’s apartment with a hopeful flutter in his chest.

He doesn’t know what he was thinking though, knocking on her door that Friday evening.  He hadn’t even gotten a good look at her before he was asking her if she’d ever heard about the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Lourdes.  She answered his knock in a pair of snow-white flannel pajamas that were rolled up at the sleeves and ankles.  Her face was almost as white as her sleepwear, aside from the hollow grey smudges under her eyes.  Her eyes themselves were so thoroughly bloodshot it looked like it might be painful just to keep them open.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, taking her in.  “I didn’t mean to...to…”

She blinked slowly at him, like a sleepwalker still in a dream.  “Our Lady of Lourdes,” she repeated in a quiet slur.  “In France.”

“Yeah.  Yes, France.”

“What about it?”

“Um…”  

“Sorry, I need to sit down.”

“Don’t apologize,” he answered, following her to the couch.  

He glanced around.  There was a blanket waterfalling off the couch, crumbled tissues scattered across the coffee table, and a basin strategically placed on the floor beside the couch, just below the spot where the impression of her head still lingered on a pillow.  Scully pushed the blanket out of the way and folded herself up like a sheet of origami into the empty corner of the couch.

“I should go,” he said.

“Are you going to tell me the story of Saint Bernadette?” she mumbled.

“You know it?”

“Of course I know it, Mulder.”

“Oh.”

“You can tell it to me anyway.  I like your stories.”

“You do?”

“Sit down.”

Tentatively, Mulder took a seat on the opposite end of the couch.  He surreptitiously slid the basin away from his feet and picked up a closed photo album that was wedged beneath the back cushion.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Photo album.”

“Well, yeah.  Are they of you?”

She nodded.

“May I?”

She nodded again.  He opened the book and on the first page was a black and white mugshot of a swaddled newborn with a pinched face.  Next to it was the classic, naked baby on a bearskin rug photo that every parent seemed to think was necessary.  He had one of his own somewhere.  He chuckled to himself.

The next pages were a hodgepodge of Scully family photos.  There was a pensive looking toddler Scully on the lap of her smiling sister, both with loose red curls and matching baby blue dresses.  There was all four Scully children, the boys in sailor suits, the girls in navy blue pinafore dresses standing in front of a docked ship.  There was Scully blowing out eight candles on a birthday cake.  There was a professional photo of Scully from the waist up in a white lace dress and a white veil, looking upwards with gloved hands clasped in prayer.  

He turned to a page of school photos, all eerily similar, the progression of time marked only by the changes in Scully’s face and the length of hair, but the constant being the dark blazer and plaid skirt of a Catholic schoolgirl.  She only smiled in one, which he guessed to be about third grade, the rest a study in concentrated seriousness.

And then there was a photo that made him stop and bring the album closer to his face.  “Scully,” he said, squinting.  “Was your mom a triplet?”

“No,” she said, with a quiet laugh.  “She was the middle of three girls.  All a year apart.”

“I mean, they look...identical.”  And they really did.  He saw three Margaret’s in a line with their arms around each other, same dark curls, same shape of the jaw and brow, same red lipstick, even.

“The one on the right is Aunt Kate, the one on the left is Mary Pat.”

“Kate.  Katherine?  Is that where your middle name cames from?”

“Nope.  Mary Kate, Mary Margaret, Mary Pat.  Only Aunt Mary Pat uses the Mary.”

“Wait, so your mom and her sisters are all named Mary?”

“Technically, sort of.”

“What was your grandmother’s name?  Mary Magdalene?”

“Angela.”

“Oh.”

“Mary Angela.”

Mulder chuckled.

There were a few more pages of family photos and then they changed into pictures of places and people who he assumed were friends from high school or college.  There was a photo of Scully with long wavy hair holding a sleeping baby as a priest touched its little bald head.

“Your godson?” he asked.

“Mmhm.”

He flipped a few more pages.  There was photos of a cabin in the snow, of Scully in cold weather gear holding a string of fish, of a silver Volkswagen Rabbit, and a slew of photos of a beach and a lighthouse.

“Where’s this?” he asked.

“Point Loma.  It was one of my favorite places as a kid.”

“And who is this?”  He turned the photo on the next page towards Scully, of her pressed cheek to cheek with a fair-haired man with freckles across his nose and forehead.

“His name is Ethan.”  She sat up a little reached out to touch the photo with her fingertips for a few moments and then she curled back into the corner and made a small noise in the back of her throat.

“What?”

“Ethan was the last relationship I was in.”

“Oh.”

“It didn’t last long.  Three months, I think.  I don’t know, it just occurred to me that...I guess I always thought I’d have more time to…”

“To what?”

“I don’t know.”  She shook her head.  “Nothing.  Ethan will have been the last man to love me, even for a short time.”

A protest formed on Mulder’s tongue, but he held it back and looked at the picture of Scully and her ex-boyfriend again.  Maybe if things had worked out with this Ethan character, they never would’ve even met.  Or with that other guy, that Jack Willis guy from that case a few years ago.  Maybe if it had worked out between them, she wouldn’t be here now, though he can’t imagine Scully and Jack as having ever been very good together.  He really didn’t want to think about it, either.

“And Ed Jerse,” she said.

Mulder snapped to attention at the mention of that name and looked over at her.  “What about Ed Jerse?”

“Ed will be my last first kiss.”  She snorted softly and closed her eyes, brows knitting together slightly.  He took a glance at her mouth, at the dry, cracked lips that bastard had been lucky enough to touch.  It made him sad and angry.

“You do have time, Scully,” he said, emphatically.

“No, I don’t, Mulder.”

“Yes, you-”

“I don’t.”  She opened her eyes and leveled her gaze at him.  “Mulder, I’m dying.  You know it as well as I do, you just don’t want to face the truth.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.  I’m not getting better, I’m getting worse.  The tumor hasn’t changed and the chemo has just made me sick.  There isn’t anything left to do.  I know this is hard for you, but it’s just a matter of time.  And I won’t be making a pilgrimage to France to pray to the Virgin Mary and drink from healing waters, if that was your bright idea.”

“Why not?  Why not try everything we can?”

“I would rather spend the time that I have left doing the things I love.  I love my job and that’s what I want to do for as long as I’m able.”

“I can’t accept that this is the end, Scully.”

“You’re going to have to.”  Her eyes welled with tears, but didn’t spill over.

Mulder looked away and closed the photo album.  Scully slumped against the couch and shivered.  She hugged her arms across her chest and curled up even tighter.  If she got any smaller, she’d disappear.

“I’m sorry,” Mulder whispered, slipping off the couch to his knees.  He shuffled over to Scully’s side of the couch and put a hand on her arm, leaning close.  “It’s not over until it’s over.  Ethan isn’t the last man to love you, I am.  Maybe you don’t think it’s the same, but I do.”

“Mulder…”  She unraveled enough to put a hand on his cheek.  “You don’t have to.”

“I love you.”

“I know.  I...I know.”

He leaned into the palm of her hand for a moment and then reached up to cup her face with both hands.  “You’re not dying,” he whispered, just before bringing his lips to hers.  “There’s time,” he said, pulling back before moving in again.  “Don’t give up.”

The three kisses he pressed to her mouth were soft and chaste, but they’re the most heartfelt and tender kisses he’s ever shared with anyone.  He felt her tears running down between the webbing of his fingers and he brushed them away with his thumbs.  She held his wrists as he placed whispersoft kisses against her closed eyes and wet cheeks.

“I’m going to do everything I can for you,” he said.  “Everything.”

“I know.”

“Fight.”

She nodded.  He stroked the back of her head once and kissed her temple before rising.  As much as he wanted to stay, he had work to do and he needed to get to it as quickly as possible.  Maybe he could get her to hold on a little longer, but in his heart he knew he was running out of time.

The End

[strangerstuffandthingsimagines]

It Comes And Goes In Waves (Billy Hargrove x Reader)

Summary: A confrontation with Billy Hargrove leads to a revelation within himself.

Warnings: Mentions of Bullying (name calling based on appearance), Billy’s abuse, ANXIETY and depression (Vaguely)

A/N: The title is a lyric from my favourite song, I cry every time I hear it. This is a product of me feeling extremely anxious and thinking about things that affected me so severely, that it’s shaped who I am today. I was bullied A LOT as a kid and has left me pretty broken (as cliche as that sounds). I’ve been suffering from anxiety attacks for the past few weeks and I couldn’t focus on anything, but after writing this I felt a weight lift off my chest. Sorry if this is too deep for a Tuesday evening, I just needed somewhere to vent so I thought I’d do it through writing and providing you with some content. If anyone who reads this ever needs to talk about anything, my inbox and DM’s are always open. If you’re lonely, just know I am too, and I’m always here to talk. I’m off to bed and will edit tomorrow.

You stood in the kitchen mixing together the macaroni and cheese for the group of children in the basement. Your mom had somehow convinced you to babysit for the Sinclair’s, while your parents went on a double date with the Mr and Mrs of the household.

As you stirred the wooden spoon around your mind began to wander, you were completely burnt out from school, as well as pretty much anything and everything. You were an anxious person, it was crippling at times. You felt as if you were in a perpetual state of nervousness and hardly found yourself able to pinpoint a reason.

You turned the dial of the burner off and moved the pot to the side, it looked edible for the most part.

The doorbell rang out of nowhere, which made you jump in your spot.

You made your way to the front door, expecting it to be Mrs. Sinclair coming back to grab her purse or something along those lines.

You pulled the door open and felt your heart drop into your stomach as you saw the face of a stranger.

“Hi.” You said in a small voice. “Can I help you?”

The stranger gave you a smirk, before reaching out to shake your hand.

“I’m Billy, Billy Hargrove.” He introduced smoothly. “I’m here to make sure Max got here safely, her mother’s request. She’s my step sister by the way.”

You nodded slowly, your eyes glancing over to a piece of paper that had been taped to the wall next to the door, out of view from the visitor.

Scribbled with black sharpie was a simple yet aggressive statement.

“DON’T TALK TO BILLY -Lucas”

You brought your attention back to the boy in front of you, now slightly panicked on what to do.

“Um, well I’m the babysitter...yeah I’ll just go get her.” You mumbled, not thinking as you motioned for him to come in.

“How come I haven’t seen you around?” He asked, still pulling the charm on you.

“Oh, um well...wait a second.” You said suddenly recognizing his face. “You go to Hawkins High School, right?”

“So you’ve heard of me?” He said, his mouth forming into another intimidating smirk.

“Yeah, I go there...too.” You trailed off, now feeling extremely uncomfortable by the whole social interaction. “Anyways, um, just wait here I’ll go get her.”

He stood by the door as you turned to head toward the basement, your hand holding onto the railing.

The group of children were in deep discussion, talking about a wizard crossing paths with ogres or something. You hesitated before knocking on the open door, not wanting to interrupt their game.

“Hey, guys?” You said softly, the children paying no attention to you. You froze up, you were probably the worst babysitter on the face of the earth.

You sort of stood there in silence trying to figure out how to get their attention, that is until a boy with shaggy hair took notice and nudged Lucas.

“Oh hey Y/N, is the Mac and cheese done?” He asked, shushing his friends when they continued to ramble about their game.

“Yeah...it is...but uh, hey there’s a guy upstairs, Max’s brother-STEP BROTHER.” You quickly corrected yourself.

The red-haired girl gave the others a look, more of annoyance than anything, she got up as did the others.

“I’m coming.” She said, you nodded and led the heard upstairs.

“She’s coming.” You said softly as you returned to the foyer.

“Thank you so much.” He thanked, his voice almost sultry.

“No problem, they were just...down stairs.” You said giving a small thumbs up, just waiting for this entire evening to come to an end.

“What is it Billy?” Max snarled coming into the entryway, arms folded and eyes narrowed.

He furrowed his brow and his jaw tightened into a line.

“Listen dipshit, your mom asked me to check and make sure you made it here okay.” He snapped. “You forgot to call.”

You were taken back by his sudden attitude change, no more Casanova persona.

“Tell her I forgot and that I’m sorry.” She apologized, more so for her mother than for Billy.

He gave her a hard look.

“Whatever, don’t be so stupid.” He snapped before storming out the front door.

You stood there for a minute, Max left to join the others in the kitchen to eat.

Something came over you, a surge of adrenaline pulsing through you, maybe that or just pure anger over his words.

You snuck out the front door, wrapping your arms around yourself as the air was cool.

“Hey!” You called out, Billy already unlocking his door. He turned around and started his act again, his mouth about to pull into a smile.

“Cut the bullshit.” You snapped at him, mirroring how he had spoken to Max. “You-You can’t talk to people like that, it can really fuck them up in the long run.”

He gave you an amused look, taken back by your own change in attitude.

“And what the hell are you talking about, doll?” He asked now making his way toward you.

“What you said back there, don’t call her stupid or dipshit.” You affirmed, losing your fire slowly. “Listen, take it from me, when you grow up being called names it ruins your self-esteem. Not that you’d care, you probably don’t give a shit about anyone.”

His face formed a questionable gaze, for once he didn’t have a snarky remark to fire back.

“See you around.” You said, not caring anymore if he had anything else to add or say.

Billy watched you go back into the house, not exactly knowing how to feel. He played with the keys in his hands, chewing on his bottom lip.

You returned to the kitchen, wiping the sweat from your palms onto your jeans.

“I didn’t know you could yell like that.” Lucas commented before taking a sip of his Pepsi.

“Thanks...for that.” Max said, her mouth was forming a small smile.

“Sure, Yeah...Sorry I just kind of...got pissed-MAD!” You corrected, realizing you swore in front of the thirteen-year-olds. “I just got mad at what he said to you guys.”

“Billy’s an asshole, he nearly killed Steve, you know Steve? With the hair?” Mike said with a mouth full of macaroni. “Oh, and he was ready to beat up Lucas for hanging around Max.”

“Why? How could someone be that...angry.” You trailed off slowly piecing together the puzzle.

You fumbled to open the lock on your locker as your arms were full of loose papers and books.

You hated the location of your locker, the smell of burning rubber from the gym always leaked into the hall. The boys' basketball team was always running around in there, their shoes squeaking against the linoleum floor.

You swung the metal door open and put away your work, you had been staying late to get your assignments finished.

Billy dabbed the sweat from his forehead as he breathlessly exited the gym, making his way to the showers. Then he saw you.

He let out a scoff, turning his feet toward you.

You closed your locker door, mind racing with stress as you were planning out if you’d nap when you got home and then start on your history essay, or start the essay and then nap. You nearly smacked into Billy’s bare chest when you turned around to leave, although you stepped back in surprise before you could.

“Woah!” You exclaimed.

He cocked an eyebrow with amusement.

“Great, I know.” He remarked, you felt your cheeks heat up.

“No, I meant...you scared me.” You said, brushing past him.

“Hey wait, come on can we please talk?” He called, annoyed with your stubbornness.

You glanced behind and sped up, which made Billy speed up.

“Why do you hate me so much?” He said angrily. “Ever since I bumped into you at Sinclair’s house you won’t give me the time of day.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, now annoyed with him just as annoyed he was with you.

“I don’t give you the time of day?” You snarled. “Me? What about you, you didn’t even know who the fuck I was until I called you out. Who cares about what I think? What does it matter to you?”

Billy folded his arms across his chest and stood taller.

“I don’t care.” He stated.

“Okay? Then leave me alone, it’s not that deep.” You said more softly.

“Just tell me why, humour me.” He pressed.

Your shoulders sank, starting to feel anxious by the whole situation.

“Because your a bully.” You admitted, not meeting his eyes.

“What?” He sounded hurt more than anything. “Why?”

You licked your bottom lip, finally giving into his look.

“You were mean to Lucas, your mean to your step sister. You could’ve killed Steve, I see the way you treat people.” You explained, taking a deep breath. “You know, I think the reason why it bothers me so much is because it reminds me of when I was younger. Do you know what it’s like to be called names?”

Your voice began to crack as you delved into your past.

“How about fat, cow, ugly? Do you know what it’s like to be ridiculed and made fun of for how you look or how shy you are? I can barely talk to people or make connections because I’m scared of what they’ll say. The possibility of being hurt again.” You continued.

“I wouldn’t call you things like that.” He began before you cut him off.

“What about when you told Max that all the girls were cows? What does that make me? She’s told me what you did.”  You said, your eyes welling up. “You know, when I think of you, I wonder what you would’ve said to me if you were around then.”

You shook your head at yourself, wondering why you even bothered with him.

“Things have changed since then.” His eyes pleaded. “Look, I can’t explain to you why but...can you please just give me a chance to make it up to you?”

You raised an eyebrow, completely confused by his fixation in your approval.

“Why?” You asked.

“Because you said something to me. You didn’t take my shit, I don’t know...I just want to know you better.” He explained, you could sense his genuine intentions.

You let out a sigh, craning your head back and staring up at the ceiling.

“Fine.” You gave in.

“Fine.” He replied.

 You sat under the porch light and waited anxiously for Billy to pull up. No matter how many times you told yourself this wasn’t a date, a small part of you knew it was.

“Hey, stranger.” Billy greeted, a toothy grin on his face.

You stood up from your spot, giving shy smile and wave.

“Hey...so what are we going to do tonight?” You asked curiously.

He offered his arm to you, wanting you to take it. You hesitantly accepted, part of you worried if this was all some sort of scheme.

“I thought we could go for a walk.” He said, guiding you down the quiet street.

“Okay...just don’t pull a Jason Voorhees on me.” You joked.

“I promise I won’t, I just wanted to talk actually.” He said smiling.

There was a silence between you two for a moment until he let out a shaky sigh.

“Well um...I was thinking about what you said and you’re right. I am...a bully.” He admitted, almost shamed. “It bothered me at first but the more I thought about it-“

He breathed heavily through his nose, starting to worry about what you’d think. He’d never admit it to you, but he did care what people thought about him. He cared so much that it ruled his life.

“It bothers me because I don’t want to be like-like my dad.” He finally said. “But I am, and I hate it. Every time I’m mean to someone I think about my dad hitting me, I think about him calling me names. Sometimes it feels like...this is stupid, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

He pulled away from you, hiding his face from you.

“Billy, I didn’t know.” You scratched your head, feeling guilty about yelling at him. “I shouldn’t have-I just.”

“You were right, and you shouldn’t be sorry for that.” Now facing you, there was a glossiness in his eyes. “Sometimes I get so-I’m so angry and I blame everyone else but-but I’m just mad at myself. I’m so mad at myself and I can’t take it, so I take it out on everyone else.”

He didn’t know why he felt he had to tell you this, but there was this urgency in him.

“I’m pretty angry too.” You confessed, Billy’s eyes locking with yours. “I’m sad too, sometimes I don’t know why , but I try to put the blame somewhere or on someone but I can’t.”

You didn’t think you and Billy Hargrove would connect in this way, or at all for that matter. Billy saw you for your kind soul, he was drawn to you because of that.

You placed a kiss on his cheek, his face visibly softening at the touch.

“You know, this is the first time I haven’t felt alone.” You said as you pushed a piece of hair out of Billy’s eyes.

Billy’s thumb rubbed against your cheek, his eyes looked at your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” He said with zero control, it was more of an instinct.

Your lips met his, answering his question. He placed his hands on the small of your back, the other cradling your head. It was gentle and sweet, it brought comfort to both of you, forgetting about the worries and fears that clouded your skies.

[miraculous-dnd]

Insight Chapter 2

A miraculous ladybug D&D!AU  Words: 3552 Rating: Teen for mild language Summary: Between sessions the group finds time to catch up outside of D&D. 

Marinette slept late the next morning, it was Saturday and she didn’t have to go into work that morning. She walked into the office around 10 anyways though, one of the designs that she had been working on calling to her. The office was quiet, Sylvia apparently taking her day off seriously, so Marinette put on some music and got to work. Around 1 she was interrupted by a buzz from her phone:

Adrien: Hey

Marinette: What's up

Adrien: You free today?

Marinette's heart raced, despite herself

Marinette: Yeah, just finishing up some work, what did you have in mind?

Adrien: Well I was in the neighborhood and I was wondering if you wanted to grab a late lunch, or maybe some coffee, if you've already eaten?

Adrien: Maybe we could talk D&D?

Marinette: Yeah, that sounds great.

She sent him the address of the office,

Marinette: Meet me here @1:30?

Adrien: sounds like a plan!

Marinette dropped the phone on the drafting table and took a deep breath. She let the excitement run its course, Adrien wanted to catch up and grab coffee. This was normal, right? They were in a D&D group together, they were in the same industry (though the lowest ranking Gabriel designer could probably buy out Coccinelle without breaking a sweat and Adrien was on the damn board of directors), they had plenty in common, they could go for a normal lunch between friends.

Ok, maybe the grade school crush wasn't so past tense. She tried to shift her focus back onto the designs in front of her, but she kept being dragged back by the silky cat's purr of Adrien's Rogue voice.

That's only a little weird. Right?

Adrien walked up in front of the small shop front of Marinette's and smiled, it definitely had her touch. He opened the door and walked in, the building seemed to be quiet, but he could see a light coming from the back. He walked towards it, taking care to go a little louder than natural, so as not to frighten.

She was sitting on a stool, half-finished sketch on the drafting table in front of her. Her hands were on her chin and her eyes were a thousand miles away.

Adrien cleared his throat, "Marinette? Did you still want to get lunch?"

She startled a bit, "Oh, Adrien, I didn't hear you come in. Sorry. Yes. Lunch, that is, yes I still want to go to lunch."

"I'm glad, I had started looking forward to it."

"oh." Marinette tried, very hard, to find something slightly more articulate to say, but alas.

"There's a deli around the corner, they have good vegetarian food." he pauses for a second, "are you still a vegetarian?"

"Yeah. Well, most of the time, I'll make exceptions for special occasions. But vegetarian deli sounds good, uh, let me just pack up a bit." She hurriedly packs away her sketches and slings a small ladybug purse over her shoulder. She beams up at him, toothy grin wide.

oh.

The deli wasn't very far away, and Marinette and Adrien sat on a bench outside to enjoy their sandwiches. They sat in silence a while, sandwiches an excuse for the awkward silence coming from the fact that neither of them had really talked to the other, outside of D&D in, well, a couple of years now. Adrien broke the silence first.

"So how is work going? Your shop seems like a lot is happening."

"Ha. That's a very polite way of saying the shop looks a mess."

"No, I mean-"

"It's alright, I know the shop's a mess, It's probably a good thing anyways, it means we're busy. Which is pretty much also how work is going; designing is what I always wanted to do, and I love it, but the business side is a lot of work when it is going well, and even more work when it's going poorly, but I guess that's the price I pay for living my childhood dreams"

Adrien felt a small pang of envy, to be able to pursue a passion, to have a clear idea of what your passions were, it must be nice.

"That sounds stressful, but I'm still kind of jealous, working at Gabriel is kind of soul-sucking. Like, I'm not ungrateful for what my dad left for me, it's just- I don't know, I didn't have a lot of time as a kid to have my own dreams, I had a path laid out for me, you know?"

"I never thought about that, you were a bit, wrangled as a kid weren't you?"

"I don't think I've had an unscheduled period longer than three days since I was, well, maybe ever."

"Yikes, that sounds not great"

"Yeah, it is what it is. Marcel is- he's Marcel, but he means well." Marinette raised her eyebrows a hair.

"Marcel, as in Marcel Proust, the man who, to hear half the fashion rags tell it, is slowly sucking the soul out of the Gabriel brand?"

"He doesn't have the most sparkling personality, that's true, but he is trying, my father and him, they were friends, or as close as my father got to having friends. Marcel just wants to honor his memory."

"I'm sorry Adrien, I'm sure Marcel means well, it's just, he's been with Gabriel for how long now? 15 years? 20? In an interview last week he had no idea what Toilé was."

"Yeah, he hasn't invested much in the theory, but he has a handle on the nitty-gritty of running a corporation."

Maybe too much of a handle, Adrien thought.

They sat quietly for a while, before Marinette spoke,

"So, how about the game last night? That was quite the fight huh?"

"Yeah, I'm super pumped to get to use my new item, it seems pretty versatile."

"Yeah, I don't know about mine, i'll take a hit to AC, but it bumps up my whip's range and damage, so that's pretty sweet."

"The card says tier 1 on it though, so we've probably got to unlock the really cool pieces."

"Yeah, I wonder how high they go, like, what is the max tier do you think?"

Alya is in her favorite spot, next to the window in her regular cafe, looking down over the main part of the shop on the level below, the additional seating area quiet by comparison.  The word document in front of her sits, almost done, but not quite, the blinking cursor mocking her as she struggles to wrap up the story she has been writing. The political scene has become bleaker since she became a politics reporter, when she was young she had felt like there were heroes, people making real change, people caring for people and about process. Now though, well, every hero has their dirt, and Alya had made a career finding that dirt, which made the idea of a spotless hero something that Alya reserved for fiction.

Oh well, she still has two hours until deadline. She tabs over to her email, hitting the refresh and watching as a wave of unread messages cascades down her inbox.

Junk. Junk. Deal with that later. Junk. Junk.

Her eyes scan down the list of subjects and from addresses, until she hits a subject line that she can't ignore.

RE: Hawke

Alya clicked. Her eyes widened as the message appeared before them. This was big.

Their coffee date/outing/catch-up session/whatever-you're-supposed-to-call-it over Marinette was back in her office, back in the zone, her pen putting the finishing touches on the design that she had been working on earlier when her phone buzzed again. Marinette grabbed the phone eagerly,

Alya: Hey, you got a minute?

Marinette: Yeah, just doing a bit of weekend work, what's up?

Alya: I'm looking for advice, but I gotta be a bit vague, you down?

Marinette: Its for a story, isn't it

Alya: Yeah, anyway if you found out that someone in your industry was in the pocket of a certain, politician, and you could expose them, what would you do?

Marinette: Shit. Um, give me a minute to think

Marinette: I mean, I'd call you, obvs.

Marinette: I take it calling them out isn't going to make you very popular?

Alya: I mean, they've got a couple of fans, if you catch my drift.

Alya: I'm nervous enough about it to come to you for advice, if that says anything.

Marinette: Ha. Yeah.

Marinette: Well, I don't know, is there a hard time limit on this?

Alya: Not really, there's a couple of months before it's really relevant.

Marinette: Maybe you could just make a draft then, and see how you feel?

Alya: Good plan. How's this weekend looking? are you down for another session?

Marinette: Ooh, we've got a big order going out on Friday, but Saturday or Sunday ought to work!

Alya: Good to hear! I'll get in touch with everyone else, see how they feel. <3<3

Marinette put the phone down, then picked it up again and checked the time, it was almost 8, her stomach rumbled. Looks like another night of takeout.

Adrien was not a fan of Mondays. Working for Gabriel was... stressful, in the most boring way. Marcel was a controlling CFO and Adrien still wasn't entirely comfortable in the executive role that had been created for him after his father's death. It felt like the right thing to do though, and fashion was something that Adrien knew a lot about, so he did alright with that part of it, but bringing himself to care about the gross market returns on the spring line Tokyo marking campaign was next to impossible.

He had some time before his presentation to the board, so he closed the document, in a pinch he could wing it pretty well. He pulled open another document on his browser, and scanned down what he had already written.

"The Life and Times of Pollux Blackvein"

Raised by his aunt and uncle, Pollux spent most of his time as a child avoiding responsibilities, finding places to hide. There was little he loved more than to find a rooftop or shaded alcove from which he could people watch in peace. He created rich fictions in his head. This period of happiness could not last long however and tragedy soon struck again when a illness took both his living relatives. With nothing to keep him in the small town that was all he had known, he fled into the woods only days after his 16th birthday.

In the woods he found the hut of a old hermit, who took him in and gave him a place to stay as he mourned the life that he had left behind. When he had recovered the hermit began to train him, teaching him how to survive in the wild, how to hide and how to move silently. It was the old man that taught Pollux how to fight, and Pollux took to the quarterstaff quickly, favoring knives second. When the hermit had taught him enough, Pollux left his home for a second time, returning to the village that raised him.

When he arrived he found that the village was in a desperate condition. The Magistrate Vitaa Douleur had been installed in the town since he had left and was in gross abuse of her position, levying cruel taxes and enforcing laws that had gone untouched for good reason. The abuse of power made Pollux furious, so he began to formulate a resistance. He started small, disrupting the couriers that Vitaa dispatched to other cities, stealing small shipments of coin and distributing it, subtly, to the people of the town. When this caused her to double down on the oppression of his town, Pollux began to sow the seeds of violent rebellion. The rebellion was, ultimately, successful but it was a Pyrrhic victory. At the end Pollux stood over the body of Vitaa Douleur drenched in the blood of friend and foe alike, the assault on the manse leaving only Pollux standing, after searching the manse for any clue as to who was responsible for her installment in his town he burned down the manse and fled town that night. In that part of the country, stories are still told about the rebellion of Greenthorp, and the mysterious figure that led the people against the tyrannical ruler, but they are stories that Pollux has never heard, having fled to the capitol in search of the mysterious figure that sent the scourge to his people.

Since arriving in Erathia, Pollux has fallen in love with its people, and he is already beginning to chaff at the way that the nobility (or at least some of them) take advantage of them. He has made few friends in Erathia, finding the thieves too unscrupulous and the revolutionaries too lax and inactive. He is a radical living in a city of moderates.

-

Adrien sat there and let the cursor flash at the end of the document, he felt like there was something missing, maybe he needed more characters? Should he maybe soften Pollux's stance on nobility, since Marinette and Chloe were both playing nobles? He should have sent this to Alya like, two months ago, so maybe he shouldn't worry about it. He really wanted Alya to like it though, so maybe he should. What he needed was another set of eyes.

Adrien: Hey, you got a minute?

Max: Not really, but I need a break, what’s up?

Adrien: Not much, I was just hoping I could get you to look over my character background before I sent it to my DM, if you're busy I'll ask someone else.

Max: This is for Alya's campaign?

Adrien: Yeah

Max: Send it here, I need something to pull me away from work anyways.

-

Max: Nice, it looks good, I'd say you could send it to her as is, maybe add a couple of names of people from the town?

Friday night found Alya sitting in the workspace in her apartment, DM guide and monster manual open on the table in front of her, spreadsheet open on her computer. Tomorrow night was going to be epic, they were finally going to get into the meat of the arc that she had prepared. She just needed to find the right encounter to really bring home the scale of what they were supposed to be doing. She flipped the pages of the manual, looking for inspiration.

Myconid, Nothic, Ogre, nah.

Nothing had quite the feel that Alya was looking for. Then an illustration caught her eye. She started typing:

Horrificator: AC - 8, HP - 72, Speed 15 ft.

Nino woke up to the warm sunlight coming in through the window, and to the persistent buzz of his phone. He picked it up and looked at it groggily. "Reminder: Working Bibliography Due @ Noon today."

Shit.

Nino stumbled out of bed and pulled open his laptop. 10:00, two hours, that was probably enough time to shit together some sources, he could always go back later and decide not to use any of them. That's what he'd done in undergrad, 9 times out of 10. Just as he was opening the library page his phone buzzed on the bed.

Adrien: You still planning on getting lunch today?

Nino: Yeah, I got some stuff to finish up that's due @ noon, but we could go after

Adrien: Sounds good, how're classes going?

Nino: Well, I've heard you talk about how dry your junior capitalist meetings are, and I can assure you that, without a doubt, Professor Putnam is three times dryer

Adrien: Grad school sounds like a blast

Nino: its thrilling, now bug off, I gotta finish this, I'll see you at 12:30?

Adrien: Wouldn't miss it

Nino turned off the phone and got to work.

He got a respectable amount done by noon, and sent off the file at 11:59 precisely. He turned his phone back on and a flood of notifications rolled down the screen.

Alya: UUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH...

Alya: Can you believe this guy, and whats worse ca...

Alya: What really bothers me though is the way tha...

Alya: I swear, if I have to hear another relative say b...

Alya: That absolute shitstain of a man is the last thing...

Alay: Did you hear about the new thing with Hawke? he...

Apparently it had been an eventful morning.

He opened up the first text.

Alya: Did you hear about Hawke? he just announce he's running for president

Alya: That absolute shitstain of a man is the last thing this garbage pile of a country needs.

Alya: What really bothers me is the way that people are taking it seriously, like, this is the man Front National wouldn't endorse.

Alya: I swear, if I have to hear another white guy say 'ooh, he's outside the system' NO SHIT, he's outside the system because the system had the basic decency to kick him the fuck out.

Alya: Can you believe this guy, and what's worse is I'm going to have to report on this creep for like, a year!

Alya: UUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Gross.

A knock at the door interrupted Nino's reply. He opened the door and Adrien stood there, leaning against the hallway of Nino's apartment building.

"So, you ready to get lunch?"

"Just gotta put on some shoes, come in."

"Nice place you got here Nino."

"Not for long, I'm gonna be apartment hunting again soon."

Nino finished tying his shoes and stood up.

"Where are we headed?"

"Why am I always the one who has to decide on where we eat" Adrien laughed and stepped back into the hallway as Nino locked up the apartment.

"It's because you're the one with the time and money to eat out with any regularity." Nino said, giving Adrien's shoulder a playful punch.

"Fair enough I guess. I was thinking the bourgeoisie pig, since it's pretty close."

"The coffee shop? Do they even have food there?"

"I think they have a couple of lunch options, are you hungry?"

"I'm starving, I haven't had anything to eat since lunch yesterday."

"Dude, you've got to eat. Fine, how's Heather's sound?"  

"Bro. I am always down for Heather's, you know this."

"Right, dumb question gets dumb answer, Lets go."

Heather's was only a few metro stops away from Nino's apartment, so it didn't take them too long before they were sitting down in the distressed leather booths that fit right in with Heather's distinct 'american diner' aesthetic. The walls were decorated with old street signs, black and white photos of crowds of people, and other random paraphernalia. Nino looked over the menu, an eclectic mix of American/Korean/Chinese/Indian/French/Japanese dishes, and unlikely fusions of all of the above.

"Bro, is there any chance that the vegan ramen burger is good?" Adrien seemed skeptical, but Nino knew better.

"Heather's has yet to let me down. That is far from the weirdest sounding thing I've gotten here. You should try their vegan soy sauce ice cream, that's an experience."

"I'll take your word for it. You ready for tonight?"

"D&D? Heck yes, I've been ready all week. I hope we get to go a bit longer this week though, last week felt kind of short."

"Yeah, but at least we got a bit of action, I was itching for a fight."

"Yeah well you don't have a wizard's hit points, so I can see how you might be a bit more eager to fight."

"Please, you're fine, we all passed our tests and now we’re gonna see some real fighting, I wonder what Alya is going to throw at us tonight."

"Same, I'm itching for a chance to get to use my new item."

Evening came and Adrien and Nino walked up the steps to Alya's apartment, the October chill settling in as the sun sank below the tall parisian buildings. When they hit the buzzer for Alya's apartment there was a long pause before the intercom crackled.

"Yeah?"

"Its us, Adrien and Nino, you wanna let us in?"

The lock clicked and Nino pushed into the foyer, the old building was a bit run down, but not a bad place to live. They took the elevator up to the fifth floor, and waited as Alya undid the locks on both doors to the apartment proper.

"Hey guys, ready to play? Marinette just texted, she should be here in a couple minutes. Chloe is on her way too."

When they were all gathered at the table, Alya got down to business.

"You all leveled up last time, so did you all figure out your stuff or do you need to do that now."

With leveling up out of the way, Alya wasted no time launching into the story.

"Last time, you remember, you appeared in front of a cave and decided to explore it, finding an old gnome who told you that you had been chosen by the gods to protect Erathia, as you stepped forward to accept this responsibility four fighters appeared to test your abilities, you defeated them, and the Gnome rewarded you with magical items of great power. You then appeared back in Erathia, and that was where we left off."