#but i feel really bad about content being extra scattered as of late

[outeremissary]

4 & 5 for Dungeon Meshi? (I'm assuming you've been asked PF related questions)

DUNGEON MESHI IN THE INBOX?! This is THRILLING

From this prompt list.

4. what is your favorite CANON ship?

So a funny thing about Dungeon Meshi is that there are uhhh. Zero canon ships I think. Unless you count Chilchuck the middle aged halfling getting left by his wife or any of the several very one-sided crushes scattered among the side characters. I think that there is actually no romance that happens onscreen, the only mentioned romance is in one guy's backstory and was his brother marrying his crush. So I guess I don't have a favorite canon ship??? I'm just going to show you the most divorced halfling in fiction instead.

I think his adult children have also stopped talking to him but it's too late at night for me to fact check that one

5. who is your favorite character (and maybe why?)

Oh it is ALWAYS so hard because there are so many fantastic characters in this series and I'm going to do two anyway because I can't help myself. But seriously there's not a single bad one, everyone is so delightful down to the most minor side characters. but anyway!!!

First of all, Mithrun!

Mithrun is the captain of the squad of elvish scouts sent to the island, and is a relatively late arriving character (the Canaries arriving is a foreshadowed sign of the central conflict escalating to something serious). Mithrun is a terrible, lethal warrior with singular drive who strikes fear into most characters who meet him- he uses taunts so cruel they cause one of the main villains to despair, he's quick to suggest assassination as a solution to problems, and his creative use of teleportation has grisly, torturous effects on foes. He's also severely disabled. Without significant support, he struggles to function in daily life due to an inability to translate his body's needs into actions tending them. His life is managed with a combination of strict routine managing basic tasks and aid from comrades who ensure that he eats, sleeps, and carries out other essential physical behaviors. In social situations he's also blunt and generally opaque in his behavior, usually cutting straight to the point and often excluding others from his reasoning. Despite that, he's someone who has a certain charisma: his comrades consider him an inspirational leader and feel strong affection and loyalty towards him, and he's willing to take risks and extend trust towards others. He also still possesses a certain cunning that makes him very fun to watch. This has all been a lot of exposition to try to explain things, hahh...

Here's his cover by the way. All the covers are composed to be comedic and often aren't based in any real event, but you can see that teleportation at work!

Anyway, I'm fond of Mithrun because I enjoy seeing a character who's very, very ND-coded who's good at a job that isn't "inventor" or "knowledge guy," which I think is a niche that a lot of characters like that tend to fall into. He's badass, he's cool, and even though he's straightforward he's never naive. He's incredibly competent and strategic. He's also got a very dramatic, tragic backstory that's deeply intertwined with the plot and gives him a lot of really fun interactions with major villains- those are also the scenes that tend to draw a lot of high emotion out of him, and I love high emotion and drama! And yet despite the development of his condition being a central point of his tragic backstory, there's still never any lingering on "curing" or "fixing" him, which is... really nice, honestly. He has close, supportive friends and a life he's content with, and in some extra comics suggests that he doesn't like the person he used to be, even if to other people that was the time when he was full of potential. Both the persistence through significant trauma and the rejection of the telling of his life story as a pure tragedy are things I really enjoy.

But yeah another thing I love about Mithrun is that he's canonically just a little nasty and is drawn with these perpetually fucking chapped lips. He's jsut like me fr

Also you are being spared so many Mithrun Images by the late hour but I do happen to have this just at hand on my phone. I know this doesn't mean fucking anything without context but I want to look at this image so now we all have to look at it together. It's so so late

ANYWAY. There's also a SORCERER in Dungeon Meshi! This one. This little cunt. A fun fact about me is that there's a folder on my computer devoted entirely to images of this guy, whose name is either Thistle or Sissel depending on which translation you're reading. According to the guidebook, which is currently in my hand, Sissel is official so we'll just go with that for the rest of the post.

I fucking love Sissel. I love Sissel so bad. There's something so wrong with this little (4'3"/130 cm) guy. Look at that image. You already know why I love Sissel. It's because he's got a rancid, unstable little megalomaniac personality and he thinks he knows better than everyone about everything.

Just look at him. My little guy. I love a bitch who meant well once but has become lost in his darkest obsessions.

But like, more coherently, I also really enjoy Sissel as a villain who starts out as this legendary figure of fear- the "Mad Sorcerer" who's presumed to be immortal and all powerful- who's then gradually revealed to be deeply, deeply pathetic. He's so lost in his obsessive protection of those he loves that he hurts them and then throws a fit when they won't forgive him. His power lies in being a master of monsters, but he's so aggressively uninterested in the creatures at his command that they're constantly dying on him and the main character turns them on him just by knowing basic ecology. He has literally infinite power at his fingertips and he's so aggressively unimaginative that he can't do anything wit hit except react to what he thinks are threats. He's built up as a final boss character and Mithrun nearly kills him in less than a minute. He whines about someone cleaning his room. My pathetic meow meow. My cringe and fail sorcerer. I fucking love this guy. He spends a whole chapter carried around as a backpack and used as a human shield. The main character forces him to eat a homecooked meal. He's so!!! Lame!!!!

Anyway it would be a literal crime for me to end a Dungeon Meshi post without any mention of women. Look at my meme boy. Look at the monster wife.

I spent. More time than I intended. Looking for the page where she tore off her shirt. This isn't nsfw this is fine this is fine

Anyway very sexy of Falin to not only haunt the narrative but come back wrong as that.

[one-that-had-to]

Languages

He finds her on the surface one evening. At first, he thinks it’s to get some fresh air and to escape the ever confining walls of the base, but as he approaches it becomes obvious that it is not the case. She is on the phone speaking a language he’s not heard anywhere else in the base, looking as though it’s a lover on the other end of the line.

He waits for a few moments after she hangs up before making his presence known. “There are phones in the base that will call outside, you know,” he says, keeping his voice light and teasing.

She jumps at the sound of his voice and shoves her phone into her pocket as though she’d been caught breaking rules. “It can be hard to hear things in the base,” she explains casually. “And it’s a bit embarrassing.”

“Plenty of people call their partners on those phones, can’t be more embarrassing than Mueller cooing to his newborn baby over the phone. It’s not like you have to pretend to be anything other than human.”

She shakes her head and bites back a laugh. “It’s not who I was talking with, which was my brother, by the way,” she explains quietly.

Relief floods him, and he doesn’t know why. “The point still stands. But if you’re not afraid of the crew teasing you for cooing over someone, then why sneak out to make a call?”

She hesitates for a moment, shifting on her feet. He finds himself reminded of bitterness and unhealed wounds. “Czech is close to my heart,” she says, voice dropping so quiet he can just barely hear her. “I really only speak it with my family and childhood friends, so I know I act different while speaking it - like I’m a kid again. Our men don’t need to see me like that, not when I’m supposed to be leading them.”

“That shouldn’t matter, though. Everyone knows you’re human, it’s a normal human thing to act differently around different people, isn’t it?”

“I suppose,” she says, shrugging. “Still, it’s a bit uncomfortable to think about, everyone listening even if they can’t understand.”

He thinks for a moment, trying to weigh if what he was about to say was a bad idea or not. “Would it be less weird if someone could understand you? If there’s no one on base that knows, you could teach… someone,” he suggests.

“I don’t need to be teased mercilessly once someone understands that I’m cooing over my family, and I have restrictions on who I’ll teach it to,” she replies, laughing. “Besides, English is the language of work for me, while Czech is the language of heart and home. You of all people should agree on keeping those separate.”

“Right,” he agrees weakly. “I’ve never heard of anyone having restrictions on who they’ll teach, though.”

“That’s mostly only because of a joke between my mom and I,” she explains with a shrug. “She’s never been completely happy that I’m… unattached, so I’d always say that she’d know when I’d found someone because I’d be sure to teach them Czech. To date, I’ve only started teaching one person, but that fell through before my family could meet… them.”

Her voice seems to tense at the mention of her ex, and although he’d like to ask questions leading down that rabbit hole, he’d already agreed that work and heart should be separate. He pauses for a second before deciding to pry a bit more, since the Commander was seemingly so willing to start showing her cards. “When did you learn English? I would have thought you born American, just listening to you.”

“I was ten when we defected. Early enough that I would eventually speak without an accent, but late enough for me to be set back in school until I graduated,” she explains.

He raises an eyebrow, curious now. “And you moved all the way to the US? With your last name-”

“Everyone thinks I’m French, I know,” she interrupts, laughing. “My dad’s American, the french name just stuck around. I purposely butcher all the French I know so no one gets the wrong idea.”

“That explains why the French council member hates talking to you so much,” he laughs.

“Do you speak anything other than English?” she asks once they’ve both stopped laughing

His grin falls and he shakes his head. “Learned French in high school and promptly forgot it. I’m lucky most of the base speaks English as a second or third language.”

“Hope I haven’t hurt your ears too much with my pronunciation, either,” she says, stifling another laugh. “Well, if you ever wanted to learn a language, you’ve basically got your choice among our people.”

“Any language I want, except Czech, apparently,” he teases before he can even think about what he’s saying.

“I never said I wouldn’t teach you,” she replies, a daring glint in her eye.

Before he can think of any words to say, a communicator beeps. They both scramble for their pockets, but it’s the Commander’s whose has gone off.

“Vahlen,” she says. “I should get down before something bad happens. Don’t stay out for too long.” With little more than a wave, she disappears back into the base, shoving her comms device back into her ear.

He’s left with his head spinning and something in his heart that he can’t put into words, not in English, at least.

[nights-legacy]

Big Heart=Trouble. Kirishima Eijiro

   Help and Hide Series. Kiri Edition

  Bakugo Ed.  Denki Ed.  Todoroki Ed.  Midoriya Ed.  Shinso Ed.  Iida Ed.  Aizawa Ed.   Tamaki Ed.   Hawks Ed.  Dabi Ed.  Shiggy Ed.

       + You had a big heart that much was evident to anyone. Sometimes that big heart got you in trouble. Naturally you always wanted to help people, hence joining the Hero Course at UA. One day, you did get in trouble just innocently helping someone being bullied and couldn’t help yourself afterwards. Your quirk couldn’t match theirs in the moment and you ran for help. Finding your help and hiding spot with Kirishima, the loveable rock.

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

      Sometimes being the nice person can really bite you in the ass. Be nice to the wrong person and you could have a couple things be the result. One, nothing could happen. Two, you could be seen as a bad person. And three, it could turn whatever was happening on you. That third bit happened a lot to me.

       “L/N! Uraraka and I are going to get something to eat. Do you want anything?” Su asked me. I looked up from my book and shook my head.

       “Thanks but I am okay. Have fun!” I waved as they jogged off. I looked up at the clear sky and closed my eyes. I sighed in content. It was nice day of refreshment at the park after the long, tiring days we have had lately. A lot of training and gloomy, dark days on top of it are not fun mixes.

       “Can you believe it?” I heard Midoriya yell in excitement. I cracked my eyes open and looked to my left to see him and Todoroki lounging in the grass a few feet from me. Midoriya was fanboying over something again and Todoroki was just watching him amused, head resting on his hand as he laid on his stomach.

       “Adorable.” I whispered and turned back forward. Kiri and Bakugo were playing a rough game of catch while Sero and Mina were huddled around Kaminari looking at something on his phone. My gaze lingered on Kiri as he smiled wide at his friends. As if feeling my gaze, he turned and caught my gaze. He smiled wide again before winking. I blushed and looked down smiling. He is such a flirt.

      Others that decided to join us were scattered around the park. I was just about to go back to my book when a distressed voice caught my attention. I looked up, searching for the source when I saw a woman and a man walking deeper into the park and the woman looked distressed. I immediately got up and followed, not liking the feeling I got from seeing them.

      “Please, just let me go.”

      “No! I want your money. Now!” The man yelled and I heard the woman whimper. A pang hit my heart and I sped up. I turned around a corner and saw the man pinning the woman and holding her at the mercy of his quirk. A hand to blade quirk it looked like. Something my vegetation quirk would have little effect on.

      “Hey!” I yelled. Both of their heads whipped towards me. “Let her go.” I said firmly. The man just laughed at me.

      “Get lost little girl. This has nothing to do with you. Run along.” He turned his attention back to the woman while she looked at me fearfully.

      “I said…” I started, lifting my hand. He side eyed me. “Let her go.” I repeated but this time punctuated my statement with the flash of vines tangling around the man’s blade arm. I moved my arm yanking him off the woman. “Go!” The woman ran. She went by me, thanking me and I watch as see runs out of sight. I turn back when I heard the sound of him cutting the vines.

      “You little…” The man growled before charging at me. I dodged his attacks and continued to use my quirk to little avail. Knowing he was getting angrier and closer, I did one last hit before retreating. I ran through the trees purposely. I heard him yelling but I lost him, for now. I leant against a tree to catch my breath.

      “L/N?” I heard Kiri call out. “You out here?”

      “Kiri!” I called back. I finally heard the man coming up on me again. I run in the direction I heard the sharp toothed red head. I snuck a peak behind me only to run into something hard.

      “Woah there! What’s the rush…”

      “Shh!” I shushed him before pulling him with me. He questioned me until he heard the yelling behind me. He let me pull him to the tree line opening into the park clearing. I ran to the spot where his stuff was at and grab his blanket. I stopped and pulled him down with me to sit at the base of a tree. I pulled the blanket over our shoulders.

      “What?” He looked at me confused but let me do whatever. In the corner of me eye, I saw the man come into the clearing looking around frantically. He deactivated his quirk but came our way. I yelped a little before grabbing his arm and maneuvering it around my shoulder.

      “Please just… go with it!” I said, eyes still locked on the man. He followed my gaze and spotted him. I set my head on his shoulder and pulled the blanket higher.

      Kiri finally understood my discomfort and took if one step further. He moved and pulled my into his side tighter and propped his knees up in front of us. He reached up and moved my head further into his neck before leaning his head on top of mine. He cuddled into me and I blushed.

      “Little bitch.” The man got closer and I turned my head to nuzzle into Kiri’s neck. He held me tighter. Just as the man got within a few feet of us, Kiri seemed to have another idea. He gently grabbed my chin and moved my head to kiss me softly. I made a surprised sound but fell into it easily. He moved slightly in front of me and held me tight.

      “Kiri.” I whispered as he pulled away so we could breathe. We looked each other in the eyes longingly before moving in for another kiss. This kiss was more than the last. That’s all I could describe it as, more. We only pulled away when someone yelled.

      “That’s him!” We pulled away and saw the woman with two police officers. I smiled as they arrested the man. “Where is she?”

      “Who?” One of the policeman asked.

      “The girl that helped me. There was a young girl with a vegetation quirk that helped me. I wanted to thank her.” Kiri turned to me and raised an eyebrow. I just smiled before looking back at them. The police escorted the man away as the woman stayed, looking around. She seems to give up with a huff before smiling at nothing.

      “You and your big heart.” He said while leaning back against the tree with me still pulled into his side.

      “What can I say? I like helping people.” His head fell back in exasperation.

      “I know and there’s nothing wrong with it. You just have a bad habit of getting into trouble on days where you are supposed to be RELAXING.” He put emphasis on the last word before pecking my nose. I froze before blushing and touching the tip of my nose.

      “Eep.” I accidentally let out the sound of excitement.

      “Oh? What was that little pebble?” Kiri teased. I looked up at him wide-eyed. He gave me a toothy grin before gently kissing me again. The only thing that pulled us apart we the sound of the snap of a phone camera. We looked and saw Kami and Mina sitting by us with Kami’s phone pointed towards us. Bakugo and Sero were standing a few feet behind them.

      “You guys are cute!” Kami yelled.

      “Are you two dating now?” Mina suddenly asked. Kiri stalled for a second before looking at me in question. We looked at each other for a second before I smiled and nodded the slightest bit. He smiled wide and kissed me forehead.

      “Yep.” Kiri answered.

      “About damn time you damn extras. I was getting real tired of your relentless pining for each other.” Bakugo exclaimed before turning to walk away. I blushed and hid my face in Kiri’s neck. They all laughed and I heard another snap of the camera.

      “Get lost you jerks.” Kiri laughed before cuddling into me again.

[my-happy-little-bean]

The Rainbow Manor

pairing: platonic DLAMP  words: 5138 warnings: swearing, references to homophobia, toxic/homophobic parents, brief description of a small injury, blood, brief descriptions of panic/anxiety attacks, crying, angst

a/n - hello friends! hope everyone is doing well! i was lucky enough to be commissioned by the lovely @youronelesbianfriend to write this story (side note, their commissions are open too so...whatcha still doin here, go and do that!). i was overjoyed when i saw the prompt she gave me, and had such a good time writing it! (also inspired me to maybe formally advertise commissions? you can peek at my tumblr every now and then to see if i do, but if you also want one you can DM me!)

so without further ado, here is some content ✨

read on ao3!

—

The Rainbow Manor is a lot of things. 

It’s a home for the biggest family that could exist. It’s a safe haven from the cold, stormy outdoors. It’s the kind of blanket made of the same velvet the night sky is made of; it’s quiet, it’s warm, and it’s filled with stars. All it takes is one step inside and you would find yourself filled with a sense of belonging, of hope. 

You could run the furthest distance away from it all, and the Rainbow Manor would always open its doors to you. 

Patton would know. He was the first one to try. 

~*~ 

“Okay, so here’s what happened,” Roman Prince said, looking down at his clipboard as he weaved him and Patton through the halls. “I was going to show the new people around myself, but then I forgot the paperwork in your office — and then I realized, ‘hey, what better person to show them around than The Man himself!’; capital T, capital M!” 

Patton half-heartedly smiled as he snuck a peek at Roman’s papers. 

“How many are there?” 

“Three, so it won’t be too bad. One of them’s Virgil — you remember Virgil, right?” 

“Right.” Patton smiled fondly, remembering Roman’s birthday party last year. Him and Virgil had shown up covered in cake. He never really saw Virgil after that day, but clearly him and Roman stayed acquainted against all odds.

They turned a corner into the break room where three people sat around a table. Roman clapped his hands. 

“Alrighty! Sorry for the wait.” 

All three of them stood up. The one in the black and purple hoodie—the one Patton recognized as Virgil—rolled his eyes. 

“Waiting is part of the contract with you, Princey.” 

Roman faux-gasped. “Hey, that was one time! And if I didn’t take too long that day, we would have taken the wrong cake!” 

“We did take the wrong cake, Roman. That’s why it exploded.” 

“...Oh yeah.” Roman grinned. “Forgot about that.” 

Virgil shook his head, but showed a hint of a smile. Patton took a step forward to extend his hand out to him. 

“Nice to see you again, Virgil!” He then addressed the two behind him. “And if we’re talking cake, I guess you both can call me Patton-cake!” 

The one wearing a black, short-sleeve button up frowned, adjusting their thin blue tie. 

“I read on the website that your name is Patton Morgan.” 

“It’s like patty-cake, but Patton-cake!” 

“...Right.” 

“Ignore my friend’s simply lively commentary.” The last person stepped forward. They wore a pale-yellow button up under a grey vest. “That’s Logan. Do not be astounded by how that pencil is both sharp and dull — he’s always like that.” 

“And that’s Janus,” Logan seethed, crossing his arms. “They’re always like that.” 

Patton chuckled. “Well it’s nice to meet you both. I’ll show you guys around?” 

They all nodded, following Patton as he led them out the door. The icy awkwardness of first encounters fortunately thawed as conversation quickly blossomed. Patton learned that Logan was the new volunteer manager and was close friends with Janus, who was joining the growing team of counsellors. Virgil, on the other hand, was the newly-appointed social media and communications coordinator; a position Roman used to double as alongside being head of recreation and programming, until he overdid it with the website graphics and crashed the site for two days. Sometimes, change was necessary, Patton learned. 

“So that’s pretty much the whole place!” Patton said brightly at the end of the tour, stopping outside his office. He handed them their job description packages. “I hope you all get situated soon! And if you ever need anything, you now know where my office is!” He motioned to the door with jazz-hands. “Here!” 

“Thank you, Patton,” Logan hummed. He looked around idly. “I must say, I am rather impressed by how well-established and organized the facility is, especially for one that is fairly new.”

“Well call me corny, ‘cause all I can say is ‘aw shucks’!” Patton beamed. “You know, if you told me almost a year ago that I’d be standing here today, I think I’d be impressed too!” He nudged at Roman. “But I obviously didn’t do any of it alone. It’s the people that really make this place home — people like Roman, who’s been with me since the very beginning!”

“Oh, Patton! You make me sound like the hero of this place.” Roman pretended to flip his hair. “So thank you!” 

“A humble hero,” Virgil retorted. Roman just stuck out his tongue at him.

“But in all seriousness, Patton’s downplaying his efforts to the floor!” Roman wrapped an arm around Patton’s waist and pulled him in close. He waved out in front of him. “He’s a true phoenix who rose from the ashes and built this place with his own two hands!” Roman then spun Patton away from him, a trail of giggles following suit. “Plus he does a bunch of other stuff too! He has, like, a gazillion side-gigs, he sometimes volunteers at an animal shelter…” 

“It sounds like you may also be interested in a day off,” Janus piped up.

“It’s really not that much!” Patton awkwardly shuffled where he stood. “I...I like staying busy.” 

Janus tilted their head at him. “Right.” 

Patton shot them a quick smile before diving back into the end of their paperwork. Then the three of them, along with Roman, said their goodbyes and scattered to their respective offices. 

Patton leaned against his office door with a wry smile. They all seemed like nice people, he thought. He was lucky to have them. 

(Roman’s words from weeks ago echoed in his head; the same words that were said to him the night of his first breakdown, when they first called.

“You need all the help you can get, Pat.”) 

And he needed all the help he could get.

~*~ 

A few days later, Patton found himself leaning against the front of his desk, outstretching his hand towards the teen in front of him. 

“Jonah, your feelings are valid, no matter what they are.”

The words slid off Patton’s tongue almost effortlessly. Jonah sniffled. 

“I know, Pat. And– and I’ve already made a lot of friends here that have told me that. It’s been so good for me here, but…” Jonah buried their face in their hands. “Every night before I go to sleep, I can’t stop thinking about what they told me before they kicked me out. It’s like I get tunnel vision. I can see the person I have grown to be on the other side, but all I’m doing is going backwards.” 

Jonah looked up at Patton with teary eyes. “And I don’t wanna go back, Patton. I...I don’t want to go back.”

Patton felt a chill run through his spine. Quiet echoes buried themselves in the back of his mind. 

“I understand that it’s difficult to feel like you’re moving forward when it feels like the most important people in your life are pushing you back. And it...it sucks. I’m so sorry.” Patton swallowed down the temptation to cave as he continued. “I...I think all we can do is remember that those important forces in your life aren’t what’s given to you, but are what’s found. And I feel like you’ve done a lot of searching — for now, try and let yourself be found.”

Jonah broke into a small smile. Before Patton knew it, the teen stumbled forward into an embrace, holding Patton tight and crying. Patton’s hands hovered in the air behind their back, unsure of what to do. Eventually, Patton came to his senses and hugged them back. 

“I’m thankful I found this place,” Jonah mumbled into Patton’s chest. “It’s– it’s built on a lot of hope. I don’t think I could have found it anywhere else.” 

Patton’s heart shattered.

‘I wish I could give you more.’ He squeezed Jonah tighter. ‘I’d give you all I had, and you’d never know.’ 

Jonah left a few minutes later, thanking Patton for giving them a space to be honest. All Patton could do was nod numbly. He knew Jonah was new and it was hard to be new here, but Patton was certain that they’d find their place. The kids who came here always did. 

Patton walked around his desk to sit down. He took one look at his phone, frowned, then set it aside with a sigh. For a brief moment, Patton relished sitting in the precious silence that finally found his office. 

Then, a knock on his door. 

“Come in!” Patton said, straightening up and folding his hands neatly on his desk. The door cracked open and Logan’s head peeked in. 

“Is this a good time, Patton?” 

“Yeah, of course!” 

Logan stepped inside and handed some papers to Patton. 

“I filed through the volunteer applications and started arranging interviews in the coming weeks. I just wanted to run the dates by you before I start contacting people. Hopefully they suffice.” 

“Wow! Thank you, Lo.” Patton took the papers, slowly sifting through them. “These look really good! I’ll have a look at them tonight.” 

“Tonight?” Logan echoed. “Are you staying late again?” 

“Oh! Yeah, I am.” Patton shrugged. “Just a bit of extra paperwork.”

“Well if you require any assistance tonight, I can stay around–”

“No, no! That won’t be necessary.” Patton waved his hand dismissively. “Go and enjoy your night, Lo.”

Logan’s stare seemed to bury itself through Patton, enough for Patton to look away. 

“...Well, please do not hesitate to let me know if you need anything else.”

As Logan was leaving, Patton felt his phone buzz. He snuck a peek and paled.

‘Missed call(s): Mother (2) - 5:34 PM’

“Um, leave the door open, Lo!” Patton suddenly blurted out. Logan turned around and tilted his head. Patton flimsily added, “I– I think I’m going to try and get some air.” 

Logan nodded, lifting his hand off the door handle before walking out. Patton took a deep breath and then stuffed his phone in his pocket before leaving as well. 

—

Later that evening, Patton wandered into his office in a daze. He turned the lights on and inwardly groaned at the stacks of paper awaiting him. 

He dragged his feet to his desk, only stopping to check his phone. The ‘missed call’ notification lingered, except now the number was ‘3’. 

Patton felt his jaw tighten. He couldn’t run forever. 

As he sat down, he noticed a small cup behind one stack of paper. He grabbed it. The smell of coffee swarmed his head. He smiled, noticing a small sticky note on its side. 

“Keep up the great work. Your friend, Logan.”

 ~*~

“Okay everyone! Grab your brushes!” 

Patton blinked. Somehow, his memory of the manor floors failed him, and he ended up in the recreation room. He felt eyes stare up at him, Roman’s included.

“Ah, Patton! Man of the hour! What brings you here?” 

Patton sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “I, um, got lost! If you could believe it, heh.” 

“ ‘Lost’ is just a way of saying ‘found, but with a few extra steps’!” Roman motioned to an empty seat. “How about you join us for a bit?” 

Patton opened his mouth to protest, though felt cornered by all the expectant stares. He even spotted Jonah, who smiled and waved at him. Patton sighed. He had been wound up for days now; perhaps Roman’s theatrics was all he needed.

He finally nodded, going over to sit in front of the vacant canvas. Roman grinned at him with a warmth Patton let himself melt into. 

“Alright! Let’s begin.” Roman cleared his throat. “I want you to pull on the colours of your heartstrings. Forget form, structure– even an outline. Your emotions know no bounds, after all! Just remember, your hand is not controlling the brush — it’s your heart.”

Patton felt the words wash over him. Roman, of course, was right; he didn’t even notice his hand moving as he painted. Though somehow, it didn’t feel as peaceful as Roman described it to be. Instead, it felt like something was being pulled out of Patton, as though a claw was scooping something out of his chest and spilling it onto the canvas. 

Suddenly, his ringtone cut through Roman’s monologue. Patton jumped, dropping his brush. A line of paint dragged across the canvas as it fell. All eyes were on him again. 

“Um, excuse me! I– I’m just going to take this.” Patton pressed answer without looking at who called as he stumbled out of the room. 

“Hello?” 

“I see you’ve finally answered.” 

Patton’s heart dropped.

—

Roman was halfway through the end of his monologue when, in the corner of his eye, he spotted Patton re-enter the room, head ducked.

“Ah! I’m glad you’re back!” 

Patton nodded, but in the stilted way Roman quickly recognized. His eyes looked Patton up and down, barely listening to Patton’s stammering apology for interrupting. His hair was disheveled, which meant he ran his hand through it far too many times. His eyes were red, his jaw was tight– 

He was crying. 

“Anyway, I’m sorry again for leaving so soon!” Patton’s voice brought Roman back to reality. “Keep painting you guys! I gotta Van-Gogh!” 

A shaky laugh followed Patton out. Roman frowned, but he nodded for everyone to continue. He passed by Patton’s canvas and snuck a peek. 

It was rather abstract, with overlapping strokes forming a gradient. Roman’s gaze followed the gradient downwards. The canvas was filled with dull blues that turned into darkening greys. Towards the bottom was a thin line of black trailed all the way to Patton’s paintbrush, abandoned on the floor.

 ~*~

The sun sets on a long railroad, it goes past the horizon, it outstretches a hand like it’s beckoning, it’s begging you to run, run faster, everything is going faster and they just told you to go so you have to– 

“Pat?” 

Patton shot up in his seat with a yelp. He blinked quickly, vision focusing on the silhouette of–

“Virgil!” A strangled laugh escaped his throat. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in!” 

Virgil replied simultaneously, “No, I’m sorry, you just weren’t answering and I got worried, but I didn’t realize you were sleeping–” 

“Sleeping?” Patton looked down at the time. 5 PM. 

“Oh sh– shoot, I’m gonna be late.” 

“Late for?” 

“Animal shelter,” Patton mumbled, stumbling out of his chair and grabbing his bag. “I forgot that I said I’d come in today– gosh how could I forget–” 

“Hey.” Virgil rested a hand on Patton’s shoulder before Patton could go spiralling out the door. “Deep breath. I’ll drive you, it’ll be okay.” 

Patton opened his mouth to protest, but remembered the time. He sighed and motioned wordlessly at the door. Virgil nodded, leading the two of them out towards the parking lot.

“Anyway, I’m sorry if it’s a bad time, I was just hoping to run some website revisions by you,” Virgil said as he started the car and backed out of the lot. Patton shakily smiled. 

“No! It’s not a bad time at all, you can tell me about your ideas as you drive!” 

“There’s not much. I was just thinking of ways to maybe make it more approachable. There’s not even really an ‘about us’ page or anything about you–” 

“Why would there need to be anything about me?” 

Virgil looked at him, almost confused. “It’s an amazing organization, Pat. Your name should be up there, especially as the founder…?” 

“Oh! R-Right.” Patton let out a sharp laugh. “I guess I never thought about it before.” 

“I could put something together tonight, I was just thinking it'd be cool to hear you talk about it.” Virgil turned at an intersection. The sign of the animal shelter soon came into view. 

“I guess that’d be a good idea!” Patton shrugged. “But there’s, um, not really anything interesting to know.” 

Virgil frowned, falling quiet as he parked the car. When they stopped moving, Virgil turned to face him. 

“Say, would it be okay if I joined you?” Virgil shuffled awkwardly in his seat. “I, um, have a bit of a free night, and I was thinking that maybe I could just ask you stuff for the website now so I don’t have to bother you later…?” 

Patton’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that sounds perfect! Liz will probably be okay with it. I think it’s bath night for the dogs, and we can always use an extra hand with that!” 

Virgil chuckled, following Patton out the car and into the animal shelter. 

Patton gathered the energy he had left to greet Liz and everyone else, already cooing over the various animals he and Virgil passed by. They reached the back and, with only a bit of struggle (Patton would never admit to these cute dogs being a struggle), took each dog a bath. All the while, Virgil asked Patton questions about the Rainbow Manor and his life in general, which Patton did his best to answer.

“I ended up founding the Rainbow Manor a year after I graduated.” Patton wiped his brow as they finished drying the last dog. “I had been living on Roman’s couch for so long after being kicked out and I just wanted to turn it around; not only for myself, but for other people.”

Virgil’s stare softened. “I– I’m sorry. N-Not about how you founded the place but, like...why you felt like you needed to. That must’ve been hard.” 

“Yeah.” Patton forced a shrug. “It is what it is. Sometimes, you have to get lost to be found, right?” 

“Right.” Virgil looked up at Patton. “Do...do you still keep in touch with them? Your parents, I mean.” 

Patton felt his heart squeeze. 

“It’s been so long,” he finally said. “I doubt they’d want to talk to me.” 

—

Virgil offered to drive Patton back, but Patton insisted on taking a cab home. Virgil reluctantly conceded, but promised to email Patton when he drafted the additions to the website. Patton just nodded and watched Virgil drive off. 

When he was sure that Virgil was completely gone, he shakily pulled out his phone and called a cab. 

“Hi! I– I just need to go to The Rainbow Manor,” he said to the driver as he climbed into the car. He found himself laughing. “Long work day. It is what it is.” 

~*~

Days passed, and Patton’s workload somehow doubled: new admissions, new initiatives, new everything. 

(And his mother kept calling. And calling. And calling.) 

To say it was a lot was an understatement. 

Patton found himself going back and forth along the manor halls, forcing a smile at those he passed. He closed his eyes, turning a corner before he knocked into someone. 

“Crap! I– I’m so sorry.” Patton quickly scrambled to gather the papers that had fallen onto the floor. 

“Oh, don’t apologize, I always thought that important documentation would make for good confetti– ah, hello, Patton.”

Patton looked up. Janus appeared above him, outstretching their hand to help Patton up. Patton took it, scooping the papers up as he went. 

“Janus! Hi! Well, if you’re looking for me...here I am!” He laughed, though it sounded scratchier than expected. “Everything okay?” 

“More than, thank you. I just wanted to follow up about my schedule for the new admissions? You mentioned yesterday that I should come to you but I couldn’t find you…” 

Patton winced. His chest tightened.

“F– I forgot, goodness how am I always–”

“It’s quite alright, Patton, I can always–” 

“I–It’s not okay!” 

In the corner of his eye, Jonah passed by. He felt their wide eyes on him. The air grew thinner.

“It’s– gah, it’s never fucking–”

“Oookay. We’re not okay and that’s...okay.” 

Janus suddenly took Patton’s arm and led him to their office. They swiftly kicked the door shut with their foot as they let Patton settle on the couch. 

“Breathe for me,” Janus said slowly, pulling up a chair and sitting across from Patton. They took Patton’s hand and motioned for him to follow their lead. “In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8…” 

They repeated this a few more times until Patton let go of his head and his breathing evened out. 

“I– I’m so sorry, Janus. I don’t know what–”

“It’s fine, Patton. I’m glad I could help.” A pause. Janus leaned back in their chair. “Is there anything you want to talk about?” 

“No, everything’s fine.” 

Janus raised a brow. 

“Okay, everything’s not fine. But...but it will be fine. I have to be fine.” His mind drifted to Jonah. Patton buried his face in his hands. 

“I can’t be like this,” he said, tears threatening to fall. “I...I just can’t. Not now, this– this can’t be happening now.”

“Unfortunately, these things tend to find us — not the other way around.” Janus squeezed Patton’s hand in a sudden moment of softness. “I...I know what this is, Patton. And I don’t have to tell you what to do because I know you know. You help so many people like you, but remember: when the plane is falling, you have to put on your oxygen mask before you help someone else.” 

Patton locked eyes with Janus for a split second, opening his mouth to respond when he felt his phone ringing. Reflexively, he pulled it out in front of his lap. The air disappeared once more. 

‘Incoming call: Mother’ 

Patton quickly pressed ‘decline’. He then looked up at Janus, whose eyes darted upwards as well. 

Shit. 

“I– I have to go.” 

“Wait, Patton–” 

“Thank you for everything, Janus,” Patton mumbled, and before Janus could reply, Patton sped out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

 ~*~

“I just don’t get it,” Roman muttered, leg bouncing under the table in the break room. “I’ve never seen him like this before.” 

“You haven’t?” Janus circled the table like a hawk. 

“What makes you think I have?” 

“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe it’s the fact that he has about a thousand jobs! Or perhaps it’s that he’s been staying overnight every night to work as if he owns the place — oh wait! He does! But I have no idea why that might be stressful at all!” 

Roman glowered at them, but said nothing. 

“I can imagine that his workload presumably doubled this past month,” Logan, sitting across from Roman beside Virgil, adjusted his glasses. “Between the new admissions, growth in our volunteer admissions…” 

“Okay, so he has a lot on his plate!” Roman pinched the bridge of his nose. “But I’ve seen him stressed out about these sorts of things. This is different.” 

“So what else could be on his mind?” Virgil piped up. 

Janus suddenly stopped in their tracks. 

“His mother.” 

Roman’s heart dropped. “His– his what?” 

“She called him while Patton was in my office,” Janus murmured. “He left straight after.” 

Virgil frowned. “Why would he...” 

Roman felt as if he had burst into flames. The pieces clicked together in his head.

“The– the fucking nerve of that woman, I can’t believe she’s still–”

“Roman, what are you talking about?” Logan cut in.

Before Roman could respond, he felt a buzz in his pocket. He immediately pulled out his phone. His breathing hitched. 

‘Help.’

“It’s Patton,” he blurted out, stumbling out his chair and making his way out of the room. Everyone exchanged looks, but quickly followed suit. 

Roman weaved his ways through the halls until he neared Patton’s office. Loud sobs were muffled behind the door. Roman felt his heart breaking already as he opened it. 

And there was Patton, on the floor, crying, and surrounded by shards of broken porcelain. Roman recognized it as a vase he had painted for him years ago. He winced seeing small drops of blood surrounding the pieces. His eyes quickly scanned the room as Logan immediately tended to Patton. 

“What happened, Patton?” Logan murmured as Patton curled up closer to him, sobs still wracking his body.

“I– I’m so sorry.” Each word sounded like it was forced out of his lungs and into the air. “I– I tried to clean up, I’m sorry–” 

“Shh, Patton. It’s okay.” Janus knelt down beside him, carefully lifting Patton’s wrist to examine his hand. A long cut ran across his palm. Janus looked up at Roman and Virgil.

“There’s a first-aid kit in my office, as well as a broom and dustpan. Can one of you grab it?” 

Virgil nodded wordlessly, exiting the room. Roman noticed Patton’s phone beside Patton on the ground, and reached over to pick it up. 

“What did she say, Pat,” Roman asked, fear edging the quiet of his voice. The words seemed to stab at Patton and let out more sobs. 

“She– she found out about everything,” Patton wheezed through tears. “The– the Rainbow Manor, where I am– she wants to take it all– she can’t take it all–” 

“Patton, I need you to follow my breathing, okay?” Janus interrupted, motioning at their chest with their hand as they inhaled and exhaled. “Can you see my hand? I want you to try and follow along, okay? 

Patton numbly nodded, trying to breathe through hiccups and sobs. Janus repeated the exercise with Patton for at least fifteen minutes, with Virgil returning halfway and Logan moving to sit in front of Patton to start tending to the cut. Virgil carefully swept around Roman, Janus, Logan, and Patton on the floor. 

“Whatever she told you, it isn’t true,” Roman said after Patton’s breath had evened out. “She can’t touch you here, not with us around.” 

“I– I know,” Patton sniffled. Logan finished bandaging Patton’s hand and offered him a tissue from the box on his desk. “She said so many awful things, but– but the scariest part is that she didn’t stop at just saying things.” 

“What do you mean?” Logan murmured. 

“She...she threatened to shut the Rainbow Manor down.” 

“What?!” Roman shot up from the floor. “But– but she can’t–” 

“You know my mom, Roman,” Patton whimpered. “She has connections all over the city. If she wanted to, she would find a way.” 

“So why hasn’t she?” Janus asked quietly. A beat of silence. Patton brought his knees closer to his chest and buried his face between them. 

“She– she wants a percentage of the donations,” Patton finally admitted. 

“What the fuck,” Virgil growled, stopping in his tracks. 

“I know! It’s– it’s impossible, I–” Another sob. Logan and Janus moved closer to him, with Janus putting their arm around his shoulder. 

“What did you tell her?” Janus pressed on. 

“I– I told her no! Even if I wanted to, I can’t, but– but what else can I do?” Patton looked at his bandaged hand and grimaced. “And of course she got mad, and I freaked out, and I knocked over the vase– god, Roman, I’m sorry about the vase–” 

“The vase is replaceable,” is all Roman said. “You aren’t.” 

Patton just nodded, looking up at the four of them in his office with teary eyes. 

“What am I going to do?” 

Everyone exchanged looks. Roman lowered himself back to the floor beside Patton and wrapped him in a warm hug.

“You’re not going to do anything,” Roman said firmly. 

“Roman…”

“All your life, you’ve taken care of people like they were your family, Patton. Please, let your family take care of you.” 

Patton sniffled, looking around him. Virgil, Logan, and Janus nodded with small smiles, moving closer to him and joining the embrace. 

And Patton just nodded, dissolving into tears; except this time, Roman could feel the relief from them. He felt Patton melt in his touch and smiled to himself, a similar relief washing over him as well. 

(And for a moment, just a brief moment, Patton was home.)

~*~ 

One week later…

“Keep your eyes closed…” 

“Roman, I don’t know how many more walls I can keep bumping into!” 

“Just a little longer, I promise!”

Patton giggled, letting himself be led by Roman through more halls. Then, Roman stopped him. 

“Okay, you can open your eyes in 3...2–” 

“I’m opening them now, I’m too excited!” Patton squealed, and then opened his eyes. Suddenly, a burst of colour flooded his vision. 

“Surprise!” a chorus of voices exclaimed. 

Patton broke into a wide smile, blinking to focus on the sight in front of him. He was standing in the recreation room, with a big banner hanging from the back wall reading, “Happy Birthday, Rainbow Manor!”. Beneath it was a table with a cake, which was surrounded by Janus, Virgil, and Logan, alongside a bunch of other teens Patton recognized. Even Jonah was there, wearing a small party hat with a confetti popper in his hands. 

Patton felt tears well up in his eyes. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you remembered!” 

“Of course, padré!” Roman grabbed Patton’s arm and led him around the table to stand in front of the cake. “Always normal for a family to celebrate the man who built their home!” 

“Oh, Roman!” Patton leaned against his shoulder, sniffling. “It’s perfect.” 

He then looked at Virgil, Logan, and Janus. “I can’t believe you guys set this all up, it must’ve taken forever!” 

“Actually, it just took a day,” Logan hummed. 

“And the cake doesn’t explode,” Virgil said with a small finger salute. “I checked.” 

“Additionally, we understand that presents are customary at a party,” Logan continued. “So while our present is not materialistic, we do hope it suffices.” 

“Oh?” 

“Sir Nerds-A-Lot is trying to say that we’re pitching in to give you a few days off!” Roman declared. “We handled a few responsibilities over the weekend while you were home, and split your workload for the week ahead! Consider this the fabulous gift of time!” 

“Oh you guys! You didn’t have to!” 

“But we did, and we did so gladly,” Logan said with a nod. 

“Also–” Janus leaned over to quietly whisper in Patton’s ear– “I took care of your mother.” 

Patton frowned. “You...what? Is– is she…” 

“She’s fine, but she won’t be bothering you for a long time.” Janus winked. “Let’s just say I know people too.”

Patton exhaled a breath he felt he was holding onto forever. He nodded graciously at Janus as Roman handed him a cake-cutter. 

“Alright! Before you take the first slice, you gotta make a wish!” Roman motioned at the lit candles on the cake. Patton stepped forward, closed his eyes for a brief moment, and then blew them out. 

Everyone cheered as Patton was surrounded by hugs and laughter. He felt Janus, Logan, Roman, and Virgil crowd around him as they started to help hand out cake to all the teens. 

And in the back of his mind, his wish echoed in his head. 

‘I hope to always be able to share this home with my family.’

[freddie-weaselbee]

Everything You Do

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, love potion, small argument but honestly really fluffy

Summary: Y/N tries to get back at Fred for years of pranks, only to have her plan blow up in her face and she has to suffer the consequences for 48 hours. 

Request: @darthwheezely i literally loved writing this so much and now magic’s gonna be stuck in my head for the next week so thanks for that

Word Count: 7.9k yeah I may have gotten a little carried away

Song: Magic by One Direction

A/N: For the sake of the story One Direction exists in the 90′s and Hogwarts has Muggle radios. Also I spent my Valentine’s Day writing this instead of actually doing something romantic because Fred owns my heart and real men don’t compare. That’s my excuse. 

------------------------------

“This is a really dumb idea.”

“I know, that’s what makes it so fun!”

Angelina Johnson was standing guard outside of a small broom closet while you were mixing together dozens of ingredients you had swiped from Snape’s storage room. He had been distracted punishing the troublemaking twins, giving you the perfect opportunity to grab everything you needed. Ironic how they were the ones who made it possible for you to enact your plan against them. 

“I still can’t believe you roped me into this.” Angelina was one of your best friends since your first year at Hogwarts. The two of you had been inseparable for years, which meant she always had your back, even if that consisted of concocting a love potion for a certain redhead Gryffindor. 

You added the last of your ingredients and continued to stir, being careful not to mess up the very specific directions for this spell. “C’mon Angie,” you said, “you know you want to get him back as much as I do.”

Angelina sighed heavily but didn’t argue. The two of you were usually on the receiving end of pranks from Fred and George and anything you ever planned to do to get them back failed miserably. But the second you overheard them talking about making love potions to sell an idea formed in your mind. 

“It’s finished.” You poured the cauldron’s contents into a small vial before cleaning up any traces of your unlicensed actions. This small potion was about to make your life a lot more interesting. “You can get us into the kitchens, right Angie?”

The girl nodded and led you out of the closet and down abandoned corridors. Angelina’s prefect status had been extremely helpful in many cases, as no one would question why the two of you were out late. You could barely contain yourself as you thought about the chaos that would be happening in less than 24 hours. And by God did Fred Weasley deserve all that was coming to him. 

------------------------------

You had everything planned out. Angelina and you spent the night baking the potion into some brownies with the help of the house elves, a treat you knew Fred wouldn’t be able to resist. The plan was simple. 

Angelina had asked George the other night if he would want to go on an early morning walk and get in some extra Quidditch practice, so it would only be Fred and Lee in their dorm room when they woke up. The way the potion worked was that, once consumed, the first person the victim makes eye contact with is the person they fall madly in love with for 48 hours. And you and Angelina had decided on the perfect person to be on the receiving end of Fred’s love. Lee Jordan. 

While both Fred and George were responsible for the annoying pranks, Fred was always the instigator, which meant it was he who deserved revenge. Angelina had a soft spot for George and didn’t want to involve him in this prank. However, she had no reservations about seeing Lee, the boy who constantly flirted with her during Quidditch games, suffer from Fred’s pining for a few days. 

You made your way to the boys dormitory, bouncing with excitement of the prospect of messing with the boy who would tease you to no end. You knocked loudly on the door, which you knew would only put Fred in a bad mood. But you didn’t care. He’d be feeling nothing but love and bliss shortly.

The door was jerked open and a tall mess of ginger hair was standing in front of you, clothed in only a pair of boxers that had cute little Gryffindor lions on them. You had to stifle a laugh and remind yourself that it’s probably not polite to knock on someone’s door early in the morning and proceed to stare at their crotch. 

“What the bloody hell do you want?” he groaned, eyes still half closed. 

“That’s not a nice way to greet someone who just brought you food, now is it Freddie?” His face changed as he registered your voice and finally opened his eyes wide enough to see you. A slight blush formed on his face as he realized the little clothing he was wearing, but it was quickly replaced by his signature cocky smile. 

“And what can I do for you this morning, love?”

You rolled your eyes and pulled the brownies from behind you, one of them normal and the other containing the love potion. “Angelina and I snuck out to the kitchens last night and snagged a bunch of brownies. I’ll give you one if you promise to leave me out of your pranks, at least for a little bit. I’m tired of waking up to centipedes in my bed and green dye dripping from my hair.”

Fred laughed and snatched the brownie you handed to him. “I appreciate the negotiation, darling, but it’s gonna take a lot more than some baked goods to get me out of your hair. Just ask my mum.” 

He was about to take a bite from the brownie, you knew this was it. “You’re insufferable Weasley, I’ll see you in class.” You turned and walked away, counting the minutes until the fun would begin. A door slammed behind you and you assumed Fred had gone back to his bed. With a skip in your step you made your way back to your dorm. 

You were about to open the door when you felt a rough hand on your shoulder. You gasped and spun around to see Fred towering over you. 

“Sorry to scare you love, but I needed to ask you something.” Before you could stop yourself you looked up at him. In his right hand was the half eaten brownie. His eyes caught yours and you watched, horrified, as they glazed over. The spell had worked. But now you were the target of Fred’s love. 

“Oh Godric, oh no.” 

Fred’s expressions suddenly changed. His previous cheeky and somewhat nervous grin was gone, replaced with a lovesick smile. “Have you always looked this beautiful?”

You screamed and pushed him into your dorm room, casting a locking charm from the outside. You hoped Fred didn’t have his wand and that would buy you some time. 

Sprinting back to Fred and Lee’s dorm you threw open the door and practically jumped on the dark haired boy sleeping tangled in his sheets. 

“Lee, wake up wake up!”

He groaned and slapped your arm away but you wouldn't give up. It took all of your might but you rolled him off of his bed, and he gasped loudly as his limp body hit the floor.  

“You’re an arse, you know that right?”

Lee finally sat up after he realized that pretending to be asleep would not stop you from frantically shaking him. As he rubbed his eyes and moved to get off the floor he saw the scared look that adorned your face. 

“Lee…” you said in a panic, “I messed up.”

------------------------------

George, true to his nature, was absolutely no help. Angelina had brought them back up early so she could check up on the plan, only to walk in on you groaning into Fred’s bed and Lee yelling about how you deserved it for trying to prank him. It only took a few minutes to fill George in, and he and Lee were both beside themselves imagining the possibilities of this turn of events. 

“Guys shut up,” you said, slamming your head into one of Fred’s pillows. “This is serious. How am I supposed to deal with Fred being in love with me for two days?”

“I don’t know Y/N,” Lee began mockingly, “it must be really difficult. Not something you would want anyone to have to experience, huh?”

You threw the pillow at his face. “You deserved it Jordan, Angelina agrees.”

The other girl nodded hesitantly. “I did think it would be great to see Fred madly in love with Lee, but now that this has happened…” her face shone with a sly grin that was so rare to find on the prefect, “I think I want to see it play out.”

“You are all horrible people.”

George moved to sit next to you and rub your back. “Hey, don’t worry, love. Maybe the potion isn’t as bad as you thought? Maybe Fred’s not going as crazy as you expected.”

He was. 

As you opened the door to your dorm you were engulfed in a bone crushing hug, one very similar to Molly Weasley’s embraces. “I missed you so much, don’t ever leave me for that long again!”

George and Lee had to walk away because they were laughing so much, leaving Angelina to stare at the scene in front of her. 

“Umm, Fred,” she asked, peering into the bedroom, “what the hell did you do in here?”

Fred released you from his hold and you could finally see the mess that he created. Everything you owned was pulled from your trunks and scattered across the floor. Your uniform, your books, even your underwear was haphazardly thrown onto your sheets. 

You and your roommate were glaring daggers at the boy in front of you, but if he noticed he didn’t care. 

“You like it?” he asked. “I wanted to be as close to Y/N as I could while she was gone, so I spread all of her belongings out to make it feel like she was right next to me.” He said the last few words with a dramatic sigh and you smacked your head, hoping it would knock you out of whatever nightmare you were in. 

You grabbed his hands in yours and led him back to his room, hoping too many people wouldn’t see him clad in only his underwear. “C’mon Freddie, let's get you dressed. We have a long two days ahead of us. 

------------------------------

You didn’t know if having most of your classes with Fred was a blessing or a curse. On one hand, at least he wasn’t skipping class to be with you all day and you could keep a close eye on him. On the other hand, you already had lost 50 house points and it wasn’t even lunch yet. 

“You look stunning with your hair pulled back like that.” Instead of doing his potions assignment, Fred was bent over resting his head on his hand and staring at you mixing together your ingredients. 

“And you look like an idiot standing like that, get back to work before we get in trouble again.” You thought that if you were rude to Fred then maybe he would get the hint and back off. But your potion turned out to be stronger than expected, and nothing you did could get him away from you. 

He pushed a strand of hair that had fallen out of your ponytail behind your ear, letting his fingers linger for a few seconds. It made you blush furiously but you didn’t want to give the boy any satisfaction. “Back to work Fred, now.”

The ginger sighed and grabbed a few ingredients, not checking to see what they were. He hummed and danced around the table, throwing them in while he quietly sang a familiar tune. 

You rolled your eyes and looked down at your own cauldron, before his hands were on your chin and your faces were inches away from each other. “Everything you do is magic, love. I could watch you all day.”

“I’m a witch, dummy. Of course everything I do is magic.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He went back to throwing random ingredients into his pot and you couldn’t help but laugh at the lovesick mess standing in front of you. That is, until the cauldron exploded. 

“Mr. Weasley, Miss Y/L/N, you insufferable idiots.” Of course Snape would blame you too. “Detention tonight.”

You groaned and slammed your head onto the table, but Fred just wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “Isn’t that great? Now we can spend even more time together.”

“Don’t remind me Weasley.”

------------------------------ 

The rest of the day had gone by surprisingly smoothly. George and Lee tried to distract Fred for a few hours to give you a little peace and quiet, but he always found his way back to your side. You started to attract odd glances as you moved through the castle with Fred’s hands intertwined with yours and his constant complimenting that made you turn even deeper shades of red. 

You tried to avoid public spaces as much as possible. If people saw the way Fred was acting around you it wouldn’t take long for them to piece everything together and recognize the effects of a semi-illegal love potion. And you really didn’t want to be known as the girl who forced someone to fall in love with you, even if it was a complete accident. 

However, dinner was difficult. Fred walked into the Great Hall with his arm draped over your shoulder, booping your nose and handing you a flower he had picked from the courtyard. You blushed and quickly put it in the pocket of your robe, hoping no one would notice. But they did. 

“Finally!” someone shouted, and you turned to the Hufflepuff table to see Cedric Diggory yelling. “MacMillan, you owe me 5 galleons!”

You furrowed your brow in confusion and turned to look at Angelina and George, who avoided eye contact with you. “Guys, what is he talking about?”

The four of you sat down, followed by Lee. Fred’s arm stayed stuck to you, even when you tried to shove him off. Angelina looked a little sheepish as she took a seat in front of you. 

“Well, we tried to keep it from you and Fred because we didn’t want it to get awkward, but…”

“Everyone has bets on when they thought you two were gonna shag, or at least snog or get together or something,” Lee piped up. 

You looked between the faces of your friends, searching for a joke. “You’re kidding. I know you’re kidding.”

George just shook his head and gave a small laugh. “Nope. Everyone’s in on it too. Even heard McGonagall and Dumbledore discussing their bets.”

Your jaw dropped and you looked up at Fred. “Did you know about this?” 

“The only thing I know, bunny, is how incredibly adorable you are.” He leaned his head on your shoulder and nuzzled himself into you, breathing in your scent. 

Your mind started to race with what this meant. “Oh no, now everyone’s going to be paying attention to us! How am I supposed to explain it in two days when suddenly we’re back to normal and everyone’s asking what happened? I’m gonna be in so much trouble…”

“Better you than me,” said Lee, who was growing increasingly more glad that your plan backfired and he wasn’t the one having to deal with Fred. 

“I hate this so much.” You tried your best to eat your dinner in peace, but with people congratulating you and passing around money the entire meal you started to lose your appetite. You completely lost it when you saw George grab a few sickles from a Ravenclaw student. 

“You bet on this too?” He shrugged sheepishly and looked down to count the coins in his hands. “I told you, everyone knew you were gonna get together, might as well place my own bets on it.”

“Are you forgetting Georgie,” you said, starting to get angry with him, “that we’re not together?”

A few confused heads turned your way and you immediately quieted down. If you had to play along, then that was what you would do. 

You stood up and grabbed Fred’s hand in yours. “C’mon, Fred, it’s time for detention. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” They said their goodbyes as you rushed out of the Great Hall, ignoring the comments thrown in your direction. 

The two of you arrived in Snape’s classroom and you practically broke down the door, just ready to get all of this over with. 

“Miss Y/L/N, please refrain from damaging my classroom any more than you and your idiot boyfriend already have.” The greasy professor stood in the corner, flipping through the pages of one of his potions books. 

“He’s not an idiot, professor. And he’s not my--” you stopped yourself from correcting your teacher and instead opted for quietly dragging your ‘boyfriend’ over to where your detention assignment was. 

“I want this room spotless, do you understand me? Not a speck of dust. And if I find out that you two have gotten up to anything...funny--”

“Trust me professor, you don’t have to worry about that.” You looked at Fred whose eyes were glassy and looking at you. You had to admit, the thought of something happening with Fred had crossed your mind in the past, but you knew it was only a fleeting thought. Besides, you would never take advantage of your best friend or anyone for that matter, especially when he was literally under a spell that made him fall in love with you. You’d have to be really careful with anything Fred did while the two of you were alone. 

Snape set out a checklist for your tasks for the night before sweeping his cape dramatically and gliding out of his classroom. 

“So,” Fred began with a sly grin, “now that we’re alone…”

“Not a chance Weasley. You’re under a love potion and I want to get this done quick so I can head to bed and pretend this day never happened. So let’s get to work.”

He pouted and tried to put his arm around your waist but you slapped it away. “I’m serious Fred. If you love me then you’ll help, ok?”

Fred’s expression changed quickly and he nodded with enthusiasm, grabbing all the supplies needed to begin cleaning. You couldn’t help but stare at your best friend gleefully prance around the room, sweeping all of the dust while humming that familiar tune under his breath. 

Your mind went back to what your friends were saying earlier at dinner. Did everyone really think that you two would get together? I mean, you did always flirt with each other, but that was just how you were. Your personalities bounced off of each other so well, which led to you being practically inseparable for the past few years. Even after his pranks and jokes you could never be mad at him for more than a day, and you always found your way back to his side. 

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t notice that the boy was suddenly right behind you. “Dance with me, my love?” 

As you turned you saw him bowing with an arm extended to you, and you couldn’t help but giggle at him as his long red hair covered his face. “Fred, I told you, nothing’s gonna happen tonight.” 

But he grabbed your hand anyways and pulled you tighter to him. “Who says anything has to happen? This is just a friendly dance with the love of my life.”

“There’s not even any music, how are we supposed to dance?” He dipped you down and pulled you back up to his chest. You hated to admit it, but his lovesick state was growing on you. 

“We can dance to the beats of our hearts, my dear.” And the feelings were gone. You rolled your eyes at his tacky remark and had to remind yourself that this was just a fabrication of love and obsession that was created in a cauldron and consumed by your friend against his will. But some innocent dancing wouldn’t hurt. 

“Fine,” you said, “we can dance for a little bit, but then we work, got it?” 

He cupped your face and his thumb rested on your slightly parted lips. “Anything for you, my love.”

While you hated the cheesiness of Fred’s words, you had to admit that dancing haphazardly around the potions room, knocking over empty cauldrons and vials, was pretty fun. Fred hummed the song he had been humming nonstop for the past few days as he spun you around and pulled you back close. 

There were many instances where he tried to press his lips to yours, but every time you would spin away and distract him with some more dancing. His smile grew wider and wider after every second, and you thought it was a sight you could get used to. You probably would have continued to dance all night, except for the fact that you tripped over the broom Fred used earlier and it reminded you that you had a punishment to fulfill. 

But while you cleaned up the mess you couldn’t stop yourself from staring at the ginger boy across the room, and wondering what it would be like to dance with the real him some day. 

------------------------------

You awoke with an awful crick in your neck and aches all over your body. As your eyes adjusted to the dim light you realized that you weren’t in your dorm room lying on your comfy four poster bed. No, you had fallen asleep sitting against a wall of the potions room floor, with Fred laying his head on your lap, still fast asleep. 

You blushed at the position, but selfishly stayed still for a few minutes, staring at the slow rising and falling of Fred’s chest. He’d always been the cuter twin in your opinion. Slightly shorter, but with a rounder face and less bumped nose than his brother. His soft features were a huge contrast to his sharp and blunt personality, and they balanced each other so perfectly. 

He slowly shifted so his head was facing you, still laying on your lap. He looked up through his lashes, smiling softly. 

“Hey beautiful, hope you slept well.” Your heart melted at his words, along with his deep morning voice. But you had to remind yourself that this wasn’t real. It would never be real. 

“I reckon you slept fine, you had me as a pillow.” You lifted his head and shoved him off of you, standing up to brush yourself off. “I was stuck leaning against these cold walls with a 6’ 3” ginger laying on top of me. Best sleep of my life.” 

That was when the reality of what happened actually kicked in. It was the next morning, and the two of you were still in your clothes from yesterday and still in Snape’s classroom, who was bound to return any minute. 

“Shit.” You grabbed your friends hands and dragged him to the door. “C’mon Freddie, we have to get back to the Common Room before Snape sees us. Or someone else.”

“Who cares who sees love?” He stopped in his tracks which made you fly back into him. “I want the whole world to know how much I love my little angel.”

“I care who sees. And you don’t love me Fred, it’s the spell. C’mon let’s hurry up, please.” No matter how many times you tried to explain the love potion Fred just wouldn’t listen. But he finally decided to follow you through the labyrinth of the dungeon and back to Gryffindor tower. 

You thought you were home free before you heard a voice from behind you. “Looks like someone had a fun night, didn’t she?” 

You increased your pace and shouted back at the laughing figure, clad in green and silver. “Sod off Malfoy, it’s none of your business or anyone else’s for that matter.”

But he just continued to laugh and ran away, probably to tell his goons all about what he saw protruding from Snape’s classroom early in the morning. 

“He’s a real arse, isn’t he, doll?” Fred’s words made a small smile spread on your face, glad that the potion didn’t take all of his personality away. 

“Yeah he is, Freddie. Now let’s get you dressed and ready for class, ok?”

Fred grinned as you spoke the Gryffindor password to the fat lady. “Only if you promise to meet me in the courtyard for lunch. I have a surprise for you bunny.”

You pushed him through the door and back to his room. “Fine, but don’t call me bunny, ok?” He nodded reluctantly. “Oh and Fred?”

The boy turned around and stared at you dopily, hanging on to every word you said. 

“Please give me my tie back. I see it in your pocket.”

Fred sighed and gave you his best puppy dog eyes, which almost worked. But he eventually grabbed the tie and handed it to you. “Just wanted something to remember you by, that’s all rabbit.”

“I think that’s worse than bunny. Now get dressed and meet me back here for class. And if anyone asks you where we were last night, you lie, ok? We were in our dorms.”

He nodded so hard you thought his head would fall off. “Yes ma’am! How about a goodbye kiss?”

You sighed and kissed him on the cheek. “That’s all you get. Now off you go Weasley.”

Fred skipped back into his dorm room and started singing some song, which quickly turned into a scream, making you assume that one of his roommates had attacked him for waking them up so early. One day down, one to go. Easy, right? But what scared you was you didn’t know if you wanted this to end or if you wanted it to continue forever. 

------------------------------

“He’s insufferable, Angie. How am I supposed to deal with this again? Especially alone.” It was only minutes away from when Fred was supposed to take you out to lunch, and you really didn’t want to see him, especially since you had no idea how to feel about him now. 

Angelina smiled at you and sat down in the courtyard. “He can’t be that bad. It’s Fred!”

You gave her an ‘are you serious’ look. She nodded in understanding. “Yeah, ok it’s probably bad.”

“I just want things to go back to normal,” you groaned. “But that won’t even happen, because everyone thinks we’re dating now! Oh he’s gonna hate me when the potion wears off.”

“As if Fred could ever hate you, Y/N. You’re his favorite person, he’s said so himself.” Her words were not helping the internal crisis you were having.

“But what is everyone going to think? There’s no way they’ll believe we broke up after two days, and it’s not like Fred would play along and fake date me. I’m doomed.”

“You’re overdramatic, that’s what you are. We’ll figure it out, ok? And Fred will help once he’s back to normal. He could never get mad at you.”

“I hope you’re right. I just wish that he’d keep everything quiet and not make any big scenes.” The second you said that you saw Fred approaching you, but not from the ground. No, the drama queen decided to fly down on a broom, attracting everyone’s attention. “Oh great.”

“Have fun on your date you lovebirds!” Angelina called after you. You flipped her off as you walked to where Fred had landed. 

“Hello lovely, care for a ride?” Everyone was staring at you and you wanted nothing more than to get out of there. A display like this probably wouldn’t have bothered you if it was with someone you were actually dating, but the more people saw you and Fred together the more complicated an explanation would be. 

So you hopped on the back of his broom and whispered for him to fly away, fast. You zoomed through the air, away from the castle and down toward the Black Lake. 

The strong lake air filled your nose as your hair whipped around your face at top speed. You wrapped your arms around Fred tighter as he made twists and turns in every direction, causing you to scream and laugh at his antics. 

The afternoon sky was beautiful, and you took a mental note to do this again sometime, preferably with the man sitting in front of you. 

Fred finally landed the broom on an open piece of land, wildflowers blooming all around and the wind whistling in your ears. 

He grabbed your hand as you stepped off the broom and led you to a spot set up with a blanket and a basket of food. 

“Freddie…” It was too much for you to take in. This love potion must have been powerful stuff to make him go out of his way to do this for you. 

“Come here, dove, let’s eat.” 

You were speechless as you sat down on the blanket and were handed an assortment of foods, from mini sandwiches to grapes and strawberries to cupcakes for dessert. Fred grinned at the shocked expression on your face. 

“Fred, I...I don’t know what to say.” 

“Then don’t say anything, love.” He leaned in toward you, eyes flicking down to your lips. His beautiful, soft lips. At the last second before your lips met you grabbed a grape and plopped it into his mouth. Fred looked surprised at first, but he quickly recovered and did the same thing to you, feeding you a grape that he grabbed from the basket. This quickly turned into a food fight, with the two of you grabbing handfuls of fruit and chucking them at each other, diving out of the way and making barricades to protect yourselves.

You were laughing harder than you ever had before, so much so that the two of you lost track of time. 

“Oh, shoot, Fred. It’s probably time for our next class.” You tried to grab all of the supplies and pull him over to his broom, but his big hands wrapped around you from behind and held you in place. 

“Don’t leave, darling. I want to spend every minute of every day with you.” He rocked you from side to side, his words sending shivers down your back. You knew his words weren’t his. Deep down, you knew that this wasn’t the real Fred Weasley talking. But that didn’t stop you for pretending that it was real, at least for a few seconds. 

“Don’t say things like that, Freddie,” you said, unwrapping yourself from his hold. “You’re only making this harder than it already is.”

He followed you to the broom, you carrying the basket and blanket while tangling your arms around him again. You took off into the sky and you closed your eyes, soaking up every ounce of this fleeting beautiful moment. 

------------------------------

“So how are things with my brother going? Do I hear wedding bells in the future?”

You slapped George upside the head and huffed as you sat down for dinner, ignoring the laughs from your friends. 

“Shut up, George, I’m just glad this day is almost over. All I have to do is make it through dinner and then we can go back to our dorms and go to bed.”

Lee gave you a suggestive smile. “Yeah, our dorms. Just like what you two did last night.”

George started cackling like a hyena and you smashed your hand over Lee’s mouth. “Don’t say one word about that,” you hissed. “Malfoy’s already talking to enough people, I don’t want Fred thinking I took advantage of him and slept with him while he was practically drugged!”

This seemed to get through to the boys and they quieted down. 

“Nothing did happen though, right?” George was starting to get nervous, finally realizing what could’ve happened to his brother in this state. 

You shook your head. “Of course not. Only some dancing and falling asleep in awkward positions.”

“I am so glad that wasn’t me then,” Lee joked, trying to lighten the mood. You smiled slightly and turned to look for the man of the hour. 

“Hey, where is Fred anyways? We haven’t been apart for this long since he ate the brownie.” 

As soon as you spoke your words, Angelina sprinted into the room and sat next to you. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I tried to stop him but he wouldn’t listen.”

Your eyes went wide at Angelina’s words. “Angie, what are you talking about?”

Suddenly the doors to the Great Hall were flung open, and in rode Fred on his broom, throwing rose petals from a basket he was carrying. 

“Oh no,” you muttered. 

“Oh yes,” said George, who tapped Colin Creevey and asked him to get as many pictures of this as possible. 

Fred made a couple of laps around the hall and landed right in front of you. “Hello, lovely, are you ready for the show?”

You wanted nothing more than to crawl under the table and hide for the rest of eternity, but Lee was holding you in place and you were forced to witness the monstrosity of what was about to happen. 

Fred waved his wand at a nearby Muggle radio that he had planted, and the song he had been humming for the past few days came on, blaring louder than a normal radio should be able to. Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, Fred began to sing. 

“Baby c’mon over I don’t care if people find out!”

George whistled at the scene and Creevey snapped a photo, the first of many to come. 

“They say that we’re no good together and it’s never gonna work out.”

You scanned the room frantically, looking for someone to help you out of this situation. But even Dumbledore looked intrigued as he sat back in his seat. 

“But, baby, you got me moving too fast,”

He kicked some food off of the table and it landed next to Malfoy, splattering his face with warm mashed potatoes. 

“Cause I know you wanna be bad,”

Fred started to do a very provocative dance move involving his broom and you could hear dozens of girls cheering for him. 

“And girl, when you’re looking like that, I can’t hold back!”

He held your face in his hands and pressed a kiss to your forehead before jumping on his broom and flying around the room, singing the chorus of the song at the top of his lungs. 

“Cause you, you’ve got this spell on me!”

Oh if only he knew. 

“I don’t know what to believe”

He did a loop on his broom and winked at you, making you smile against your will. No matter how annoying Fred was, especially under a love spell, he was still cute. 

“Kiss you once, now I can’t leave! Cause everything you do is magic, but everything you do is magic.”

He continued the song getting louder with each verse and making occasional stops to give you a small peck on the cheeks or forehead. 

After what felt like an eternity, the song died down and cheers from every table grew, even the Slytherins getting excited about the display. 

Fred landed next to you and sat down, hugging you tightly into his chest. “I love you, Y/N, with all of my heart.”

You felt yourself give in to your desires and you hugged him back tightly. “I love you too Weasley. More than you’ll ever know.”

He finally released you and you went back to your meals, your red blush not once leaving your face throughout dinner. After you and your friends finished you made your way back to your rooms. 

“I think I’m gonna turn in early Freddie, ok?” You didn’t really give him a chance to respond before you stepped into your room and started getting ready for bed. As you brushed your teeth and put on your pjs, the events from the past few days raced through your head. You pushed the thoughts out of your mind. After tomorrow morning, they wouldn’t matter. You and Fred would be back to your normal friendly selves and you would be struggling to come up with a way to justify the scene he had made in front of the entire school. 

As you pulled the covers up over your body you heard a shy knock on the door. Assuming it was Angelina you yelled for her to come in, only to see Fred standing in the doorway looking at you. 

You sat up slowly and gazed at the tall man, the one you felt yourself falling for even more in the past two days. “What’s up Freddie, are you alright?”

He nodded and made his way to sit on your bed. “I can’t sleep. Wanna sleep here with you. Can I sleep with you my love?”

You blushed at his words but nodded, scooting over to let him crawl into bed with you. You made sure to stay as far away from Fred as possible, but it didn’t help that he was constantly trying to pull you closer. 

“Fred,” you said, shifting out of his hold once again. “We shouldn’t be doing this. You’re not in your right mind and I don’t want normal Fred to wake up and wonder why we’re laying together.”

“But I wanna be here with you, pumpkin.”

You sat up again and adjusted the pillows underneath him so he would be comfortable. “How about you sleep here and I can lay on the floor, ok? That way I’m still close to you.”

Fred whimpered at the lack of heat from your body, but he nodded as you made a makeshift bed on the ground. Two days in a row sleeping on the floor. You guessed this was payback for ever thinking you could get back at Fred Weasley. 

You slowly fell asleep on the ground, listening to Fred’s soft breathing and your own pounding heart. Everything would be different in the morning. Everything would be normal again. 

------------------------------

You woke up early again, more aches and pains haunting your body. Groaning, you sat up to look for Fred, but he had disappeared. Had the potion worn off and he decided to head to his own bed? No, it wasn’t a full 48 hours yet, there was still a little time left. 

Your bathroom door shot open and out bounced Fred, looking more energetic than you had ever seen him this early in the morning. 

“Glad you’re up, love. I’ve got something to show you.”

Before you could protest, Fred was dragging you out of the Gryffindor tower and straight to the Astronomy Tower, which was usually empty this time of day. You were still clad in your pajamas but you figured no one would see you this early.

You made your way to the top and saw what Fred had meant. There was another blanket set up, but with a radio sitting on it instead of a basket of food. 

“I figured we could watch the sunrise together, sunshine,” he whispered into your ear, before pulling you onto the blanket with him. 

Fred turned on the radio and some soft music began to play. He threw his arm around your shoulders but you shrugged it off, knowing that the potion was going to wear off any minute now. 

“Y/N?” Fred asked. 

You looked at him tilted your head, gesturing for him to continue. 

“You know I love you, right?”

The look in his eyes made you want to break down. He was so beautiful, sitting in the glow of the sunrise. His eyes gleamed brown and gold, and you wanted nothing more than to get lost in them. 

“Yeah, Freddie. I know. Right now you do.”

Fred looked like he was about to say something else, when he started to get dizzy and he had to steady himself by holding onto your shoulders.

“Fred, are you alright?”

He didn’t answer, but instead took a deep breath and looked up at you. 

Fred shot away faster than a snitch at a Quidditch game, and you knew this was it. Your prank was over. 

“Y/N? What, how…? What’s going on? Did I just say I loved you? Bloody hell…” Fred’s head was spinning and you tried to calm him down. 

“Hey, it’s alright, don’t worry Fred.” You took his hand in yours and pulled him closer to you. “What do you remember?”

You didn’t know how this specific love potion worked in regards to memories. Whether Fred would completely forget the last two days or if he would remember them completely, you had no idea. Either way you planned on filling him in on everything. He deserved to know. 

“I, umm, I remember eating a brownie, and, and I needed to tell you something, but you looked too beautiful and I couldn’t. And all I wanted to do was tell you how amazing and incredible you are...and there was detention, and a picnic, and--did I really sing that song to you in front of everyone?”

You laughed at the boy who finally felt the embarrassment of his actions. “Yes you did Freddie, but it’s not your fault.”

He furrowed his brow at you. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” you began, “you know how you’re an insufferable twat who likes to prank me all the time?”

Fred smiled and gently nudged your shoulder. “That I do know, continue.”

“So, Angelina and I decided to get back at you, using my expertise in potions.”

His face dropped. “Potions? What potions? Did you use a potion on me?”

You felt horrible having to explain this to your friend. While nothing bad happened during the last two days, you couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Fred. “You see, we sort of concocted a love potion to give you, as a joke--”

“What?” he screamed incredulously. 

You jumped as he spoke and he pulled his hands back from you. 

“A love potion? Are you serious?”

“I-I’m sorry Freddie, we didn’t think you’d get this upset, it was honestly--”

“So this… all of this?” Fred looked as if he was going to explode. He was tugging at his hair so hard you expected him to pull it out. “You toyed with me? You played with my feelings? So everything I’ve felt for you the last year has been nothing more than a stupid love potion?”

You were taken aback by his harsh words, dumbstruck by the side of Fred you’d never seen before. He was furious, and not at Snape or Malfoy like usual. He was furious with you. 

“Fred, what--”

“I can’t believe you, Y/N. I’ve been in love with you since the summer and now I find out that my feelings aren’t even real, just one big joke. Is that all I am? Just a joke to you?”

What was he talking about? The potion didn’t make up false memories of love. He shouldn’t have been in love with you for longer than the 48 hours. You reached forward to put your hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off. 

“Freddie,” you began, “we gave you the potion two days ago. Everything else was...not our doing. I promise you that. We just thought it would be a fun joke and we knew it would rub off quickly. But I swear, we haven’t been toying with you. I care about you too much to do that.”

You’d never seen Fred look more confused in his entire life, and that was counting the time that you took polyjuice to make yourself look like him and convince him that you were his long lost triplet. 

“You...I...only two days?” He turned to face the edge of the tower, staring into the sunrise. You moved with him and ended up sitting in front of him, so close that you were practically on his lap. 

“I gave you the potion thinking that you were going to fall in love with Lee. But you of course had to ruin the plan and fall in love with me instead. Everything you’ve been feeling for the past two days in fake. But other than that, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your brain was racing with possibilities of what he could mean about the last year. It settled on one, but there was no way that could be it. 

You rubbed your thumb over Fred’s knuckles soothingly as you watched him try to comprehend what was going on. “So, the butterflies I got when I saw you in a swimsuit over the summer? The way my heart beats faster every time you look at me? The way I can feel myself falling in love with everything you do? That’s not...that’s not fake?”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat. Butterflies? Heart beating? Falling in love? “Fred, if this is some sort of reverse joke to get back at me it’s not funny at all.”

He shifted and pulled you into a tight hug as he noticed your vulnerability, so uncommon with you. “Of course this isn’t a joke, love. But you have to tell me, was it all real? Please tell me it was all real and that the potion’s over with now.”

You smiled and felt small tears prick your eyes. “The potions over, Freddie. Whatever you felt before and whatever you feel now...it’s real. There’s no spell on you anymore.”

Fred pulled back from the hug and cupped your cheek in his hands. His eyes seared into yours and you never wanted to look away. “Y’know,” you whispered, “sometimes I wonder if you’ve got me under a spell.”

Fred laughed and twisted your hair in his fingers. You thought he had never looked more handsome laughing at you in the morning light. “That’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard you say, love.”

You scoffed at his remark. “You got up and sang that to me in front of the entire school!” you nearly shouted, slapping his chest. 

“Yeah, while I was literally under a love potion that you gave me! Just that desperate for me, are you?”

You knew he was joking, but he was poking at the truth. “Maybe I am Freddie, maybe I--”

But you didn’t have time to finish, because you were cut off by his lips on yours. It caught you by surprise, but it wasn’t long until you melted into the kiss. His one hand rested on the small of your back and the other moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. 

You sighed into the long overdue kiss and crawled on top of the love of your life, straddling his hips.

Your hands played with his hair like they had countless times before, but this time it was different. This time it really meant something, to the both of you. Fred pulled you closer and you shifted so you were pushing him onto his back. Unfortunately, neither of you were very aware of your surroundings and his head hit the radio, forcing it to change stations. 

The two of you giggled and continued to make out in the morning sun, but you stopped once you heard the song that came on. 

“Is that…” you asked. 

“It can’t be. There’s no way.”

But the radio was without a doubt playing the song that the whole school was now familiar with. You sat up and stared at Fred, eyes asking him if he somehow planned this. 

Fred just shrugged and pulled you back onto him. “Must be magic love.” You smiled and went in to kiss him again. As the song ended Fred spoke the last lyrics into you, sending shivers down your spine. 

“But everything you do is magic.”

[vanderlindemorgans]

Cross My Heart (Chapter 4)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Eventual smut, some references to alcoholism and drug use. Reader is in her late twenties but there is an age gap between her and Whiskey. Chapter specific warnings: heavy drinking, someones arm gets broken, also some very vague mentions of a shootout, reader is in denial about being in denial (so the usual pretty much)

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You thought it would just be one coffee. One simple mistake as a result of you being extra tired, or something like that. You’d give it to him, hear his stupid little remark meant to rile you up, and then it’d be done - it would never happen again. 

Here’s the thing, though: you kept making more. After that day, every morning when you woke up, you’d grab two coffee mugs and make one for the both of you - yours with extra cream, his straight black. You knew he liked to add a shot of whiskey to his, even though you pretended not to notice when he not-so-discreetly pulled his flask out. Whatever he needed to get through the day, you shrugged, watching him out of the corner of your eye. You certainly weren’t about to judge him for his drinking habits in light of your own less than stellar track record. 

Neither of you dared to mention it so far. You hoped to high heaven that he wouldn’t: his little tease on that first day was barely enough to get under your skin though it had stuck to the back of your mind every morning you woke up. You’re not getting soft on him, are you?

Shaking your head furiously, you let out a low frustrated sigh as you moved to reach out for the bottle of wine next to you once more, flicking off the top and pouring almost a good half of the bottle’s contents into your glass. It was a Wednesday night but you didn’t much care - if the hangover was that bad the next morning, and it never usually was with a shiraz, you’d get some painkillers and get on with your day. The same thought as before repeated itself in your mind again, doing nothing short of vexing you further. Partially because you were worried it was true. Maybe you were getting soft on him. Maybe you weren’t as strong and stubborn as you thought if Jack Daniels had managed to worm his way back into your heart.

No. That couldn’t be it. You tossed your head back and indulged yourself in a rather large gulp of wine, letting the liquid rush down your throat in a desperate attempt to dilute the pitiful nonsense that had filled your head. What a ridiculous thought. You weren’t falling for Jack Daniels charm once more. No, you simply wouldn’t do that. You knew better than that. You knew that underneath that smooth facade was a flitting and emotionally unavailable man, the man who had broken your heart and made you suffer for what felt like evermore. You may have felt pity on him for his fall from grace, but anyone else would if they saw the state of him. Discarding the glass off to the side, you wanted to laugh at the simple absurdity of such an idea. Are you always this stupid with a wine-addled brain? 

Speaking of the devil, you heard his footsteps from up the stairs, taking you by surprise as you were certain that he was asleep by now. You crocked your head to the side, your eyes travelling up the stairwell to the small part of the landing that was in your immediate vision - you couldn’t catch a single sight of him. Shrugging to yourself, you returned to your almost empty glass of wine, feeling that familiar haze descend over your brain with every sip you took. This was fine. You could let yourself be swallowed by the alcohol, maybe even enjoy the fact that your nerves were loosened for just this once. If it could take all that shit away, then you’d gladly let it. And as for Jack? You’d continue on as you were: barely acknowledging his existence, and regarding him as nothing more than a ghost from your past. That’s what you wanted, right?

You’re lying to yourself and you know it.

Blinking your eyes rapidly, you stared out into the space in front of you, your mind lost a million miles away while you were in complete and utter astonishment over those few words that had crossed your mind. Things were quiet, still, even peaceful in a way, only for a second anyhow. That was before the rush came, that incensed anger that flashed across your mind for barely a moment, settling down into something resembling vague annoyance, directed at none other than yourself. Where the hell did that come from? For god's sake, get a grip on yourself. Standing up abruptly, you didn’t even stumble as you advanced back over to the liquor cabinet, dropping to your knees and scanning the tops of the glistening glass bottles under the dim lamp light. Your eyes landed on the bourbon you had stashed at the back and you reached out for it, carefully lifting it above all the others despite your intoxicated state. Resting the bottle against the palm of your hand, you let your fingers trace the grooves in the molded glass, a small bit of hesitation working its way into your mind, hesitation that was swiftly kicked aside in favour of that pesky little buzz that danced around the back of your head, that stupid little crumb of self doubt that refused to fucking leave. 

Guess I’m gonna need a bottle of something stronger to kick this shit. 

___

He didn’t know why he kept watching you. You weren’t doing anything particularly notable - you’d decided to take one of the horses out for a ride, practicing vaulting and the like. He remembered you’d once told him that as a young kid that you’d entered a number of equestrian competitions, and even won a few - he’d seen the trophies gathering dust on the mantle and the cute photos of you posing with your chosen horse, Buttercup, as a child. You explained years ago that you’d stopped participating in competitions but still liked to take the horses out for a spin every once in a while as a way to relax and clear your head. As he watched you now, he could already see the stressors of the day melting away from your visage, leaving only a steely focused expression in its wake as you cleared another jump. 

It was the first time in weeks he’d seen you truly relaxed at all, or showing any sort of emotion other than your usual show of cheerfulness you splashed on for the customers, woven with a current of underlying stress and irritation. Seeing you like this couldn’t help but remind him of better times: you’d taken him out on the horses more than a couple of times when the two of you were together. Jack had always labelled himself as something of an animal lover, ever since he was a kid. He didn’t, and hadn’t, had any pets for a good ten years now though at some point long ago he wanted something similar to what you had - a nice ranch situated out in his home state of Kentucky with a bunch of animals and his family. That dream had seemed so close to him once that he could have sworn it would be a reality yet fate wasn’t so kind to him in that regard. The memory of it all alone hadn’t ceased to become any less painful to him: seeing the broadcast on the news of a shootout down at a local convenience store only to get the call moments later confirming what he’d already feared to have happened most. 

Not a day passed where he didn’t wish he could go back to a time before that day, where even the simple idea of having a family didn’t seem so foreign and unattainable. He felt himself grip onto the wooden bar of the veranda just a tad bit tighter the longer his thoughts fixated on it, though the sound of a piercing shriek immediately brought his attention back to you, his eyes darting around in a frenzy, determined to know what had caused you to cry out in agonising pain. Upon seeing your body lain flat on the ground he rushed forward, vaulting himself over the edge of the varanda and calling out your name. “Are you alright, sugar?” he shouted, throwing open the gate to the ring and racing over towards where you were lying. The faint sounds of you whimpering did nothing short of send him into panic mode, seeing how much it hurt you to move only adding to his worry. “I’m fine, I just...the dumb horse got spooked by something and bucked me off” you groaned, struggling to pull yourself up, leading you to let out another loud yelp when you tried to move your left arm.

Swooping in to catch you before you fell, Jack gently reached for your arm and pulled it towards him, his eyes widening the moment he caught sight of the horrific fracture done to it. “Darlin’, don’t lie to me, you’re not fine. Arms are not meant to look like this!” he stressed, studying your eyes intensely, trying to gauge if you had some sort of a concussion. They were slightly glazed over, and your gaze kept wandering from him as if you were having trouble focusing. “How’s your head feelin’, sweetheart?”. 

“Kinda dazed. Hurts like a bitch as well” you grumbled, leaning your head against his shoulder slightly. Every bone in your body felt like it was screaming at you like some sort of symphony, the pain in your arm being the worst of all. Your vision had also become slightly blurry and kept splitting double every few seconds, only contributing to your general haziness. Your thoughts were running a mile a minute, scattered around your brain and refusing to slow down. Suddenly, you felt yourself being lifted off the ground and up into Jack’s arms, your head lolling slightly against his forearm as he carried you back up to the house. Running through your memory, you couldn’t really remember what had happened fully: you had just made another jump and were circling around the ring to gain speed for another when suddenly you were on the ground and your horse, Molly, was a few feet ahead of you. 

Jack brought you up to the varanda and laid you down on the bench, grabbing one of the old decorative throw pillows you had to rest your head on.“Stay here for a moment, I’m gonna get you some ice, then I’m gonna call an ambulance and get ya to an emergency room” he instructed before ducking back inside the house.

“Is that really necessary, Jack?” you shouted out after him, leading him to stick his head back out the door to look at you incredulously. “Sweetheart, your arm is broken and you're clearly concussed. I think the situation more than calls for it” he replied with a deadpan tone, disappearing back into your house to find you some ice. Resting your head back against the pillows, you turned to see Molly trotting around near the edge of the fenceline, acting as if she hadn’t just thrown you off her back for no apparent reason at all. 

“Yeah, just had to buck me off, didn’t ya? Thanks asshole!” you shouted out, doing your best to ignore the persistent throbbing in the side of your head and the dull ache from where your arm was rested. Thankfully, partially due to the concussion probably, it didn’t feel as bad as before, though at the same time you could have just simply become more tolerant of the pain. Not to say it didn’t still hurt like literal hell or that it was any less easy to take notice of. 

“Honeybee, I get you’re in pain but yelling at the horse isn’t doing anything” you heard Jack say to you as he made his entrance once more, holding a tea towel containing several large blocks of ice in his hand. Muttering out a small ‘thank you’, you took the towel in your hands and pressed it against the swell of your arm, letting out a small hiss the second you felt the sharp sting of the cold on your skin. “I know yelling at the horse does nothing, but it’s making me feel better” you grumbled. 

“Is it? Is it really?” Jack scoffed, subsequently choosing to ignore the sharp death glare you gave him after his flippant remark. “I’ve called an ambulance, they’ll be here to get you to a proper hospital in no time. You really had me worried there when I heard you scream”.

“Oh, so you do care about me after all” you jeered, your signature sarcastic edge seeping through your tone. You shifted slightly to try to position yourself up a little more so that you could face him properly yet as you moved a heavy sting of pain shot through you, causing you to yelp out a little and tense up in response. As if it were instinctual to him, Jack moved towards you and helped you settle back down. “Try not to move too much until the ambulance gets here” he directed. You didn’t know if it was your imagination or not, but you could have sworn his hand lingered on your forehead a second longer than it should have, his fingertips brushing against your skin and leaving a burning sensation in their wake, something that, shamefully so, made your heart skip a small beat. “Now, about me not caring - sugar, when are you gonna accept that no matter what happened between us that I still care about you as a person?” he asked. Shoving those thoughts to the back of your mind, you settled on glaring back at him with a quick witted quip to combat him, because that’s all he was to you: an annoyance, a nuisance, a royal pain in the ass. You were doing him a favour by letting him stay with you. There was nothing more to this.

“Try never, asshole” you snapped, one note harsher than you originally intended. As usual whenever you bit back at his banter, Jack shrugged and rested back into the wall he was standing against. For once, though, you felt bad at snapping at him like that - there wasn’t any need for it, he was only trying to help. Not knowing if you could fully coax the words ‘I’m sorry’ from your mouth, you settled on something less apologetic but still sort of the message across. “But...really, thank you. For, y’know, helping me out here” . 

Jack looked at you for a moment, somewhat taken aback at what you’d said before he softened a bit.“Of course, sugar. Call it returning the favour for taking care of me a couple of weeks back” he answered, giving you that sweet smile of his that hadn’t managed to unweave itself from those old memories. And for once, you allowed yourself to smile weakly in return.

[blu-archer]

Forgive?

Right...

I have these moments in writing when I get hit with a sudden realization that I have no idea what relationships are like, so if you notice anything that doesn’t quite add up... it’s because I’m winging the shit out of this

Standardly, there will probably be errors because its a common occurrence with me and I’m just embracing it at this point

anyway..

Sickie: Tae

Caretaker: like Jhope/Jin/Kook 

Cold/Snz based [although I feel like I drifted on things]

AU: Magic and hybrids exist

[mild language]

word count:  4560

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Jungkook had to force himself to not snap at Taehyung when the witch had decided to follow him into the kitchen after Jungkook had specifically said he was going there to study in silence. He had to bite his tongue when his thought pattern had been abruptly cut off by Taehyung complaining about how his throat hurt or how tired he was.

If he was tired he could go sleep, and leave Jungkook in peace, but that seemed too much to hope for.

Feeling a warm weight press up against his back as he hunched over his notes, Jungkook let out a low growl. The weight didn’t disappear, then again he hadn’t really expected Tae to abide by his study rules when the elder had woken up in a much similar state as their universal favourite cat hybrid had been in just a few days prior. Jungkook felt awful for him sure, and concerned and empathetic, and a huge part of him wanted to just leave his work and hold the elder until he was content, but he had a paper that needed to be written up within two days that he had completely forgotten about as well as continue studying for his art history exam that was the following week. His jaw ached from how much he had been grinding his teeth and his head pounded with the beginnings of what he hoped wouldn’t lead to a migraine. He just couldn’t focus and Tae’s noise making and constant need for cuddles was distracting him from his work.

 “Taehyung.” Jungkook pushed back against the other so that he could relieve himself of the body weight, not bothering to look up from his notes to see the witch giving his signature sick-pout at him. “Can you please stay away from me right now, why don’t you go lie down or something. You are literally one big germ and I can’t afford to get sick again so soon after the last time. Especially not in the middle of my exams. I need to focus.”

 Taehyung sniffed thickly before collapsing into the seat beside the bunny, wiping his nose on the edge of the blanket that he had wrapped around him. He kept staring his boyfriend, coughing miserably only to be ignored. Yet neither of them were willing to complain about the others lack of helpfulness, rather it became a test of who would cave to the others vibes of annoyance first.

Tae was progressively getting more and more whiny, and Jungkook was gnawing down on the back of his pencil to keep from saying anything that he would regret later. He wanted to go lie down with his sick boyfriend just as much as said boyfriend did, but he didn’t have the time nor the ability to risk his health – not when he was so close to being finished with his finals for the year.

 “Kook…” Taehyung coughed softly before hooking his finger in the side pocket of Jungkook’s sweatpants, continuing with a strained voice. “You’ve been here for hours…. It’s cold in the bedroom alone.”

 Jungkook ran a hand through his hair,  giving a harsh tug on his one long, black ear to keep from letting out the frustration that had built in his throat. “Hobi should be back soon and while I’ve been here for hours, Tae, you have successfully made sure that my focus has been on everything except my work. So I’m going to be here for hours more.”

 “Uh..” Taehyung sniffled and pulled away. “Sorry, you’re right. I’ll just…”

 He stood up and shuffled from the kitchen without another word, realising that the bunny hybrid had returned his focus to his laptop and the pages scattered on the table.

*

Jungkook hadn’t even realised how much time had passed by the time he gave in to the aches of hunger in his stomach. In fact, he had thought that Taehyung would have wondered in asking for food or cuddles well before he would have decided to call it a day, but he hadn’t seen or heard of the elder since earlier that morning. He had probably managed to fall asleep, which was good. The witch had definitely been overworking himself to try and improve on what Namjoon and Yoongi had been teaching him, it was almost frustrating to watch Taehyung push and struggle through things that always seemed to come naturally to others. It’s not like he did bad at everything, once he is able to decipher and control his magic properly everything will come to him easier than the common witch or warlock – he was technically a mix of both, he’d be more powerful than a lot of people. He just needed to over come a few things first, and perhaps take a step back from experimentations until he actually had the control needed for it – but Jungkook was willing to stay and support him no matter what methods or route he took to achieve what he wanted. Even if that meant having to deal with a few potion after effects or a mass clean up after a spell went haywire – he’d come back to a flooded apartment more than once, one time Tae had even accidentally made it snow in their home for the three days straight and it had only been fixed through the help of Yoongi.

In any case, he was glad that the elder was resting now. Feeling relieved at how much work he had managed to get finished – he just needed to proofread and edit some sections of his essay before submitting – Jungkook decided to get started on making some food. It was a little early for dinner, but considering how tired he was, and no doubt after a day of teaching with extra class sessions after school Hobi will be too, it was probably for the best that a meal was made earlier so they could go to sleep quicker. Taehyung never really had much of an appetite when he wasn’t feeling well, so it would be much easier to get something in him before it got too dark.

He called Yoongi for the recipe of japchae that elder had shared with himself and Tae a couple of times, which had taken a while to connect and he’d been chewed out for apparently waking the elder – another person succumbed to sickness – but it was worth it. Taehyung had become obsessed with it, claiming that the only thing that could top it was his mother’s food and maybe Jin’s famous bibimbap, so hopefully he’d eat without too much of a fuss. Jungkook felt a little bad at having ignored the elder so blatantly earlier, but on an upside he’d managed to get a huge chunk of his work done, so when Tae woke up Jungkook would just have to make up for his actions earlier. Maybe if he made some of that tea that the witch enjoyed so much as well… and something to watch while laying together. Tae loved dramas. Cuddles and dramas. A solid plan.

He got to work on chopping up various vegetables while he waited for the water for the noodles to boil, his mind flicking through the series of tasks he’d set to make his boyfriend feel better.

 **

 Taehyung had given himself exactly fifteen minutes to cry, which was as long as he’d managed to walk before he’d caved and waved down a taxi to take him the rest of the way to his friends place. From then he had scrambled to try dry his eyes and blow his nose into the handful of tissues he’d stuffed into the deep pockets of his coat before having left. Doing anything to seem remotely okay in case Jin was busy and couldn’t let him stay, he didn’t want the elder witch to feel pressured into keeping him company.

The warmth of the taxi had caused his stuffy nose to start running at an annoying rate and he was regretting not bringing a mask. Although he hadn’t given his actions much thought besides tossing on a sweater and coat, switching his pajama bottoms for a pair of black sweatpants before slipping on sneakers and walking out – he hadn’t even tried to be quiet but Jungkook hadn’t seemed to really care what he did, as long as it wasn’t around him.

Taehyung shook his head, burrowing deeper into his coat and training his eyes on the blurring world outside as he got closer to Jin’s house. He didn’t want to think about how his chest had pained worse than anything he’d felt that morning when Jungkook had told him to leave. A part of him understood, his boyfriend was probably stressed and had just been saying whatever he needed to in the moment, but Taehyung had still been upset by it.

He sniffed deeply, the thick icky sensation in his throat made him want to do nothing more than be back at home, in bed with his boyfriends gently running their hands through his hair or down his back or just being close to him – the bare minimum at least. Anything.

The car gradually pulled to stop. Tae got out and thanked the driver quickly before needing to cough into his sleeve. The wind whipped at him and his nose twinged as the cold air bit at his now heated skin. If anything, his nose had begun to run even more. He took a moment to blow his nose again, dragging out more than a few bothersome itchy sneezes that had left him leaning heavily on the front gate of Jin and Namjoon’s house to catch his breath.

The blowing hadn’t helped much, his head was heavy and congested, and he just wanted to sleep now. He was so tired.

Coughing downwards as he huddled against the cold and welcomed himself into the couples yard to get to their door, he could only hope that he didn’t look as dreadful as he felt. He didn’t want to be a bother. He just wanted to be around someone, and Hoseok was working, Jimin too, and Yoongi had also been booked off sick and probably wouldn’t even be awake – so this was his last resort.

He knocked on the door, praying that either Namjoon had closed the shop early or Jin had already arrived home from the school days exam schedule. It was a bit of a long shot, but he vaguely remembered Namjoon mentioned during that week that Jin hadn’t been needing to stay as late as usual, and some days didn’t even have to go in to help the second nurse at the school. Taehyung rubbed at his nose and knocked again when the wind shook him with a particularly cold breeze, his breath hitched inevitably once more. Defeated, he hovered a single hand in front of his face and waited, panting desperately with furrowed brows.

..hh..hehh..snff.. .. hhh’Heh’HESHH.. HE’ITSH’UHhh… he’hh..hEHH’TSHH’uh..

 “Taehyung?”

 …heH’HEESHH – HEH’EESH’AH!  

He felt a sturdy hand grip his shoulder and pull him out of the wind, into the warm safety of the house. Jin – because it had to be Jin, even if he wasn’t quite aware of his immediate surroundings with how his head was spinning, Namjoon had never been able to craft the level of concern that Jin was able to put into his voice and touch – kept his hand on Taehyung’s arm as the younger had bent forward to catch  another wet double into his hands, even when he made sure to push his front door shut once more.

Breathless and dripping, Tae was led to the familiar family sized couch that Jin had purchased upon moving into their home. He had claimed it was for guests but Tae had always had a suspicion that it was bought in case Namjoon tried to stay up late and ended up falling asleep while working. It was incredibly comfortable. Taehyung couldn’t help but sigh as he dropped into it with a tired cough.

 “Tae… What are you doing here?” Jin ran a hand through the young witches hair, carefully running his eyes down the mans form as if he could figure out what was happening through sight alone. “Joonie messaged me saying he was working alone today… I would have thought that meant you’d be at home?”

 Taehyung sniffled thickly, blinking away fresh tears before he grabbed the last few of his unused tissues and blew his nose once more. It was beginning to pulse in time with his throbbing headache, and he just knew that it was probably all red from its recent activity. It wouldn’t be much longer before his blowing would make his skin raw.

 He scrunched a tissue into his fist to wipe at his nose gently before he managed to give Jin his full attention. Thankfully the man was patient. “I just.. had to leave. *snf*.  Jungkook needed… space. I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind me coming over..”

 Jin’s lips pursed tightly. The congestion was sinking into Tae’s words in a way that made him think the younger witch definitely shouldn’t have left home. He ran a hand over Taehyung’s cheek to swipe away a stray tear that had slipped out and then leaned in closer. “Well it’s a good thing I love having company. I was just about to go fetch Namjoon, but how about I ask Seokie to do that for me and we can drink some tea and watch a movie.. hmm?”

 Taehyung nodded, letting Jin tug off his coat and shoes before following the momentum from Jin’s hands – pushing him to lie down on the soft couch with the gentle promise of ‘being right back’.

The elder retrieved a pink, fluffy blanket that he tucked around Tae’s body, ‘like a warm hug’, Tae had smiled and pulled it closer to embrace its warmth. Vaguely Taehyung could hear Jin on the phone, once the man had moved to the kitchen to fix up the tea, but he couldn’t bring himself to focus completely on what was being said. His mind was mostly being entertained by the hopes of sleep and trying not to sneeze again, but a part of him was aware that it was probably Hoseok on the other side of the phone. He smothered a cough into the blanket, the force shaking him and paining his throat. He would have groaned if he didn’t know that it would just hurt him more. Just a little more time, and then Hobi will be there with him. That’s all he could wish for.

 He was woken up by a gentle hand shaking his shoulder, and upon blinking his eyes into the light of the afternoon sun,  immediately crumpled forward with  a harsh ‘hehH’ESHEW!’.

 “Bless you…” Jin set down the cup he had been holding to help pull Taehyung to sit upright without the blanket falling from around his shoulders. “I let you sleep for a little bit, because you looked like you needed it, but I want you to drink and eat something too.”

 “mm ‘ot hungry.” He mumbled, letting out a yawn that shifted into an irritated cough that grated at his throat. He took a hold of the cup Jin offer, holding it through the material of the blanket and pulling it closer to rest on his chest.

 “It’s not a lot,” Jin promised. “Just some crackers with your tea.. It’s not negotiable, unfortunately.”

 Jin sat next to him with his own mug of tea and a plate a crackers’ settled on his lap, pointedly being pushed closer to Taehyung. “Tae…. I love having you here, but I want to help if you need me too. Did Jungkook really tell you to leave?”

 Tae hesitated, sniffling thickly as the steam from his tea worked its way to his sinuses. “Not exactly, but… I didn’t feel.. okay.”

 He spoke about how he had woken up sick and what he had been feeling, as well as all of the things Jungkook had been going through with his studies – breezing over vaguely of what had been said that morning – then finally speaking about his decision and plan to come where he would be accepted. Jin listened intently, every so often handing him a tissue or a cracker, depending on what he felt Tae needed more as he snuffled through his words. He didn’t say anything either, just letting Tae lean into him and occasional letting out a soft grunt of disapproval – mainly towards Jungkook’s actions and Tae having thought walking would be a good idea.    

 “I’ll put on a movie, okay?” Jin said softly after Taehyung had admitted to ‘just wanted someone to hold him’ and ‘be there’. If he needed comfort then Jin would provide, he just couldn’t believe Jungkook had shunned his boyfriend. Even if the bunny had needed to focus, he usually always had time to spare for Taehyung. “Eat a few more and then we can finish our tea and get comfortable. Hobi should be coming here soon too, so you can look forward to that.”

 Taehyung couldn’t stop a small smile tugging at his lips. While Jungkook gave great cuddles, and Jin gave amazing hugs, there was an atmosphere so uniquely ‘Hoseok’ that made Taehyung crave him. He was warm. There was no better way to describe it. His presence was enough to be satisfying.

For now, he made do with his friend. Letting himself be pulled down to rest on Jin’s chest once he’d finished his drink. The elder had set a box of tissues within grabbing range so that Tae could catch each flurry of damp, heavy sneezes into the soft tissue – his nose growing brighter with each passing minute until he had merely lay his head onto Jin’s lap and held the tissue in a ball against his nose, fighting his eyes to stay open and watch the action movie Jin had found, but eventually falling to darkness.    

  It hadn’t taken long for Hoseok to leave work – calling his afterschool class to a close earlier than usual so that he could pick up Namjoon and go see Taehyung. Jin hadn’t told him much of anything, mostly just explained that Tae was sick and Jungkook had said some stuff that had hurt his feelings – which was absurd because those two never intentionally hurt each other, especially not with words. It was one of the things he had envied about them, how well they worked. His next concern was that Tae was sick and had still left the house. His homebody boyfriend felt better leaving their home because he didn’t want to be around Jungkook?

Nothing was making sense.

Namjoon had had to tell him to slow down three times before they’d finally reached his stylish home. Hoseok had left his car parked partially in the street and had moved past Namjoon to get into the house first. He’d swung the door open so hard it had slammed into the wall, but thankfully the only reaction that was given was Jin’s startled yell and Namjoon’s complaints about Hobi breaking things. Taehyung was asleep on the chair with his head nestled int Jin’s lap and soft congested snores sounded from him. Thank goodness he hadn’t been disturbed.

 “Sorry.” Hoseok murmured as he moved to kneel by his boyfriend. Jin’s face softening a little bit. “Is he alright… he looks like he has a fever…”

 “I think he does.” Jin agreed, stroking his fingers through Tae’s hair. “He’s been getting warmer, but other than that I think he just wanted someone to be with him. Jungkook had apparently told him that Tae was distracting him from work and that he needed to stay away because he was sick? Or something? I don’t know, it seemed like a small thing.”

 “It’s not.” Hoseok said, his voice hardening.

Jungkook had told Tae to stay away from him because he was sick? The same Jungkook that would cling to either of them every chance he got whenever he possibly could? Not to mention that he said that when Tae was clearly not well…

A heat spread through him that made his jaw clench.

“I should probably get him home.”

 “I didn’t give him any medication, but just take some back with you. Joonie?” Namjoon stepped behind the chair and lent down to lay peck on Jin’s lips and cheek. “Hey… can you fetch a few immunity boosting potions, as well as some of the cold and flu  ones that I made earlier?”

 “Sure, I’ll put a variety in. I have some balms and ointments that will help with any fevers or raw area’s.” Namjoon added before trailing off further into the house, muttering about what else could help.

 Jin smiled with reassurance and Hobi let out a sigh as he moved to retrieve a balled up tissue from Tae’s hand. . “He’s fine. The worst of it really was that he seemed lonely but was afraid of being a bother, which is unlike Tae.”  

 “I know. I just – Sorry.” He stood up abruptly as he searched his pockets for his phone that had started blaring. Tae shifted in his sleep and Hoseok scrambled to find it faster, answering as soon as it was out. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to speak before Jungkook started rambling on in a state of panic.

 “I don’t know where he is! He was here and then I thought he was asleep but he’s not asleep because he’s not here! And he’s not answering his phone, please tell me you have him?!”

 That heat from before amplified. If Jungkook was going to be sounding that scared of Taehyung not being around then why the hell did he send him away in the first place?

“You asshole.” Hoseok hissed, then lowered his pitch to avoid waking the sick witch. “You basically told him that he was being a pest! What the hell is wrong with you Jungkook? You didn’t even know that he left until now? He tried to walk to Jin and Namjoon’s place. In this cold weather, because you couldn’t be bothered to spare an hour with him.”

 “I-I didn’t realise –“

 “You didn’t realise?  You have been dating him longer than I have Jungkook, you should have fucking realised! What the hell is wrong with you?”

 “I’m sorry!”

 Hoseok bit his tongue as he heard the choking tears in the hybrids voice. He shouldn’t be snapping at Jungkook. He shouldn’t be picking a side. They were supposed to be open and honest and understanding with one another. Clearly something had gone wrong, but he had a feeling that Jungkook understood his mistake, even if it wasn’t understood as quick as it should have been.

 “Okay. Okay, I’m going to bring him home. He’s safe – just… he looks plain exhausted.”

 “I’m sorry..” Jungkook repeated softly. “I didn’t think he’d leave.”

 Hobi took a deep breath. “We’ll see you at home Jungkook… Just hang on there.”

**

  Taehyung had woken up about halfway home, coughing deeply into the blanket that Jin had lent to them. It was harsh and crackly and overall, just didn’t sound good. Hoseok had sped up just a bit to get him home faster, so that they could get him medicated and in bed… maybe a bath would help.

 “Sleep well, Baby?”

 He got a rough, undecipherable mumble and Tae struggled to push himself upright from where he was lying down in the back seat.

 “We’ll be home soon.” He promised, watching Tae rub at his eyes and then his nose in the rear-view mirror. Then added. “Jungkook was worried about you.”

 “He told me to.. to le-ehh hh’-ve…. hh’HE’HEITCHh… HUH’HRESHH’uhh…ugh.”

 “Bless. And I know, I don’t think he realised the impact his words had.”

 Tae sniffled and rubbed his nose with the edge of the blanket. “He’s jus’ stressed. I over reacted,”

 “I don’t think you over reacted.” Hobi answered honestly, that heat from earlier still present even after he’d tried to stamp it down. “He said something wrong when you needed him, perhaps if it happens again then it might be wise to talk about it instead of leaving without telling anyone though, or at least take your phone with you. But the three of us are in this together, neither of us like seeing you sick and Jungkook shouldn’t have taken his stressors out on you.”

  He didn’t get an answer. Taehyung just stared blankly out of the window at the dying light out the world until they pulled up at their complex.

After wrapping him tightly in the blanket and draping his coat over Tae’s shoulders, they began their climb to home.  Hoseok kept a steady arm around the witch and had to catch him once when Tae had snapped forward into a bout of surprise sneezes that had almost caused him to slip up the stairs when heading to their apartment. They went a bit slower after that. It wasn’t much of a surprise to see Jungkook waiting outside the door for them. He had been perched on the ground with his back to the door chatting politely to their neighbours six year old daughter, and by chatting the conversation had probably mostly been about wanting to play with Jungkook’s floppy ears and asking when he could teach her to draw ‘like a real artist’ again. He didn’t seem as invested as he usually was, and after having glanced up and seen his boyfriends, had almost burst into tears. Taehyung had actually started crying, both choking out apologises.

Hobi smiled. They’d all be fine it seemed. He greeted the child and encouraged her to get out of the cold, waiting for her to be inside before he opened their door and gently tugged his boyfriends inside. The smell hit him first and he sent Jungkook a questioning look.

 “Did you make food?”

 “Yeah,” he swiped at his face with a sniff. “I thought if I made japchae then Tae would want to eat something.”

 The news only caused the witch to let out a sob that had him coughing for breath.

 “Tae, baby… please calm down, you’re going to make yourself worse…” Hoseok laid a kiss to his burning cheek and reached to squeeze Jungkook’s hand. “Why don’t you and Kookie go take a bath? I’ll fetch you some water to drink and get the food reheated, okay?”

 “Will you join us?”

 “I think you two should be alone for a bit, I want to read over everything that Joon and Jin gave us for you.” The dancer placed kiss gently on the tip of Taehyung’s nose, grinning widely as the witch’s tears were halted with a hitched breath. “Don’t take too long though, I missed you both so much today. These extra classes are going to kill me.”

 Hoseok took a moment outside the bathroom door to listen to his boyfriends whisper soft words to one another, a flurry of apologies made a second appearance from Tae but was cut off abruptly. Hoseok took that as his cue to get everything ready for when they got out.

Everything would be worked out by tomorrow and yet he was definitely still going to be leaving his classes early to join in on whatever mess was going to be happening here. Taehyung had never learnt the ability to not share anything in his life.

[avian-writes]

The day we decided to live

The Days: Part 1

Content Warnings: depression, thoughts of suicide

words: 3039

In hindsight, when we had to park the car on a dirt road with only a government power strip on it and cross the barren back road to reach the GPS location, we should’ve known it was a bad idea. But it wasn’t like we were worried for our lives. We never have been.

    It had been a long day: my car broke down after a 10 hour shift and my best friend, Darian, had to come pick me up. Neither of us could figure out what was wrong with it so I called a roadside mechanic who said he could come out and check it out the following day. Tired, we got food and went to my apartment to hang out. We hadn’t done that in weeks, we didn’t have the time or energy. What time we didn’t spend working was spent in bed, not wanting to get up to see the other.

    It was during this that Darian asked, “Hey Jake, attractor, void, or anomaly?”

    “...What?”

    He turned his phone towards me and showed me a screen asking the same thing. “It’s Randonautica.”

    “It’s what now?”

    “You haven’t heard of it? It’s been all over the internet, mostly Tik Tok.”

    I shook my head. I hadn’t been paying much attention to anything lately. “What is it?”

    He explained it was an app that gave you a random location and you just...went there. He almost mentioned something about manifestation but I had already agreed and was taking his phone out of his hand. I needed something to do and distract myself that wasn’t my own anxiety biting at me.

    Most of the screen was taken up by a GPS map with a radius of 2km. At the bottom were the choices of Attractor, Power, and Void. I hit Void then ‘generate’.

    The screen turned black and white text appeared. ‘What would you like to find?’

“Something interesting.” Something that made moving worth it. Something that made life worth living.

‘Imagine it. Manifest it.’

Because we were good young adults, we did as we were told and closed our eyes, trying to manifest a reason to live. Not like we didn’t spend every day doing that already. When we opened them, an owl took up the screen telling us to prepare and I didn’t even get the chance to move when the map came back up.

    ‘Generated point; Void Anomaly’

Under it was an address I didn’t recognize. Zooming in on the map I could see the point was in the middle of woods. “Is that private property?” Darian asked, squinting.

“Sure is! You ready?”

I grabbed my Emergency Drive bag, a bag containing my portable charger, an extra cord, granola bars, chapstick, a notebook and pen, and a water bottle. It was solely for the purpose of when things got bad in my head and I just needed to get in my car and drive. I used it more often these days.

Less than twenty minutes later, we’re both standing on the side of the road across from the point. Darian had to park on a dirt road a ways off, parking on the side in our city would’ve been a horrible idea, and we walked over. We waited for the road to be clear and darted across.

    On the other side, there was a ditch directly off the pavement filled with lumps of dirt similar to snake pouches all along it. It was the only way to the woods with a treeless stretch of tall grass. We both stood at the top of the drop off, staring down into the thorns and possible snake pits.

    “Maybe we’ll find a dead body,” I said, referencing one of the stories I had read on the way there. With my phone plugged into Darian’s car charger of course. No way was I going into this with it even on 99%.

    “Hopefully it’ll be one of our own.”

    I didn’t comment. Especially when I agreed with him.

    A sewer pipe went right underneath the road, leading into the overgrown bank. The grass went up to our knees and it wasn’t until we were already in that we noticed the briars growing along ankle-height.

    “Welp, here we go!” I said with only a slight tint of enthusiasm. I started through the briar patch and Darian reluctantly followed me. Since we had come right from my apartment and neither of us were known for thinking things through, we weren’t exactly dressed for the occasion.

    I had on short shorts and Darian had short pants as well as sandals; at least I had on tennis shoes. As we walked, I could feel every little cut on my legs as the briars dug into my skin and scratched along until I was past. Long cuts of red were scattered on both of our legs.

    Finally, we got through and we were on the edge of the woods. Darian pulled up the GPS and handed it to me since I could read a map better than him. I turned it so it matched where we were facing and held it parallel to the ground. “Look, see! It’s the middle of this pathway where there aren’t trees.”

    “Unless we want to deal with more briars, we’re not going straight there.” Darian pointed ahead of us and sure enough, grass taller than even him along with even more briars grew everywhere in the stretch. The woods it was.

    I took the lead and we headed into the woods. It was only short in width as it bordered a farm; it was the woods on the other side of the stretch that was formidable. It went on for miles according to the GPS map and neither of us were good with directions when everything looked the same and we couldn’t see the sun.

    All throughout the small journey to our destination, I laughed as Darian stumbled his way over fallen logs and small creeks of water going criss cross all along the dirt floor. He nearly tripped right into a tree and I caught his arm.

    “Didn’t you say you grew up on a farm in a rural area? Did you never go exploring in the woods?” The thought baffled me, someone who had spent 85% of his childhood and high school years in the woods, playing pretend and just going on forever until the darkness pushed me back home.

    Darian shook his head. “Our woods weren’t really woods like this. I never went in them much anyway.”

    “What did you spend your time doing?”

    He smiled at me, a real genuine smile I hadn’t seen in months. “Playing video games.”

    It was a sweet bonding moment that got ruined real soon. I spotted something dark through the soft, brightly lit grass and leaped out into the strip. I darted over and stumbled back just as fast.

Darian followed me and lurched back. An animal carcass was strewn across the only patch of short grass, torn apart and unrecognizable. Hundreds, maybe thousands of flies swarmed the area and we both took heavy steps away.

    Flies. Hundreds of little flies. I batted at them, but I could feel little flicks all over me as they flocked to me and Darian. I pressed my lips together in an effort to keep them from getting in my mouth. Waving my hands around in a feeble attempt to get them away from me, I accidentally smacked Darian right in the shoulder.

    “Feck, sorry dude.”

    He didn’t answer me. I blinked through the swarm and if I had eaten that day, it would’ve come right back up. The dead deer was laying in the small patch of short grass, right in between us and the rest of the easy way through the stretch.

    I’m from the mountains, my family is a combination of hillbillies and rednecks, and I had a vulture as a best friend back home. Dead animals were a common occurrence as well as roadkill being the main feature of dinners at family reunions.

    But this was much worse than simple roadkill. This was a mutilation. An attack on the poor thing. It’s entire body was torn open, entrails and organs spilling out into the blood-caked grass. Bones were almost licked clean and we could see the skull through a hole in the neck.

    I felt Sick. I backed away and ran back to the woods, Darian right on my heels. As soon as we entered the dark, shady, and death-free safety of the trees, I keeled over and crouched in the dirt. Burying my head into my arms and trying to take deep breaths. Beside me, I could feel Darian doing the same.

    A pricking at the back of my head nudged at me and I violently shook it away. A pleasant but jealous feeling that I didn’t feel like psychoanalyzing. “Alright, that’s enough for today. Want to go to another location?”

    Darian shook his head and pointed at his phone screen. “We’re not too far from the coords. Might as well go all the way and make this worth it.” He pointedly didn’t look at the corpse when speaking.

    I thought about it for only a moment before shrugging and nodding my head. We continued on through the woods and kept going around the strip. In complete silence, we followed his offline GPS until we were directly across from the bright red point.

    We looked at each other then stepped out of the woods and crossed the barrier further into our nightmare. Not even 10 footsteps away was stomped grass that led back into the woods. This was where the point was supposed to be. Broken glass littered the ground, quite literally; it looked like someone had littered.

    “It’s probably nothing, Jake. Someone else must have gotten these coordinates too.”

    “Aren’t they randomly generated?”

    “We’re not that far from the farm. Probably one of their kids hiding their drinking from overbearing parents.” But even he didn’t sound convinced. I didn’t know why, but something about the area didn’t seem right. Maybe I just wanted to believe that since it was a new place and something was odd about it. I bet if someone came into my backyard, they’d feel something was off too, but it would just be the overturned lawn chairs we hadn’t bothered to pick up after the last storm.

    I bent down and carefully picked up a piece of glass, holding it up to eyelevel to inspect it. It was thin and after looking closely, was curved just a bit. My stomach dropped and I looked around, spotting a broken piece of long, slender plastic.

    “This wasn’t a beer bottle. It was glasses. Like, eyeglasses.” I looked up at Darian through my own glasses and he blinked at me through his. This had gotten too creepy and it seemed he agreed with me as we both started lightly sprinting for the woods.

    As we ran, something hit me. Nothing physical, nothing stopped me from running. But something for sure hit my chest. I stopped of my own accord and turned back towards the strip and started walking. Why?

    Good question. Wish I had an answer for you.

    Behind me, I could vaguely hear Darian asking what the feck I was doing but I just kept walking. Just like when I drive down random roads at night with no real direction, when I go on walks through town and take random turns, it was like something was telling me to go that way. That I needed to see what was there.

As I broke through the clearing, I regretted it immediately. A circle of mowed grass amongst the overgrowing field of weeds wasn’t what we were expecting to find but alright. Just to add to the weirdness factor.

“What the fuck is going on, Jake?” Darian’s voice sounded ten miles away and right at my ear, still incredibly tired.

All I could do was shake my head, an overcoming sense of dread took me over and I turned and booked it. Praying Darian was behind me, I skipped along back into the woods and looked all around me. There was still plenty of daylight, I knew this. My phone said 3:46 pm with no reception. But the sky was growing darker already. Not even in the Winter did it get night this quickly.

I started running and dodging trees, reaching out my hands to feel for bark and shoving myself out of their way. My foot caught on a log and I went face first onto the ground. The warm, soft ground.

All at once, my body relaxed for the first time in what felt like forever. I rolled onto my back and took in a deep, deep breath. I almost didn’t need it; I couldn’t breathe but also could breathe finally. Nothing held it back, nothing weighing on my heart to keep it from beating at a steady, normal pace.

    The overbearing, sinking feeling over took my chest; begging to drag me down into the depths of the woods. The trees closed in over head and the sun was successfully blocked out. No light streamed in, the only source being from the far off tower strip.

    I tried to move but couldn’t. I raised my arm and it just dropped back to my side, it was af it was light as a feather, with hollow bones, and filled with lead at the same time. I let my head hit the dirt as I leaned back as all my motivation to stay up left me.

    But it wasn’t scary. Only…strangely comforting. It didn’t feel like it wanted to harm me, simply take away any preexisting pain. Take away everything until nothing was left, including the sadness. Dull all my senses. Block out the noises. Silence the humming noise and voices.

    I could just not move. Let it consume me, take my spirit and mind away. It would be so easy…

    “JAKE!”

    Darian’s voice cut through every thought I had. Any resolve I had to let whatever it was take me broke away. My best friend needed me, and as much as I wanted to die, he needed me to live even more.

    I scrambled to my heavy feet and took off into the strip. I dashed through the grass, ignoring the broken glass, leapt over the decaying deer, waved off the flies, and ran until my legs ached and my chest was burning.

    “JAKE!”

    The grass cut at my legs and arms, sharp searing pain akin to getting sliced with a knife covered me from head to toe but it was miniscule compared to the building anxiety rising in my tightened chest.

    I broke into the circle and there Darian was. Just laying there, staring up at the open blue sky. His arms and legs outstretched as if he was just sunbathing on a lovely day. But the fear striking his face and pulsing veins streaming from his clenched fists and neck told me otherwise.

    I fell to my knees next to him and yanked an arm around my shoulders. Darian had a good five inches and 70 pounds on me, but the shallow breathing and returning clawing feeling in my brain gave me just enough strength to lift my best friend up to get the feck out of there.

    We finally made it past the deer and Darian suddenly slipped away from me. I started to panic until he grabbed my hand and we both took off. We ran in the slim space between the woods and strip, leaping over logs and doing our best to avoid briars.

    It was the most terrifying time of both of our lives. Especially with the feeling now rising out of the ground to pull at my ankles, trying desperately to drag me back down. I ignored it the best I could until I couldn’t.

I briefly stopped, yanking Darian to a stop, and stomped on the nearest stick. It broke right in half and the feeling vanished with a cold, fleeting pass. I slipped my hand around Darian’s wrist and dragged him through the strip.

    Then we heard the sweetest sound, calming music to our ears: cars. Driving past at fast, back road “no cops around, speeds. We ran faster and the road finally came into view. We only slowed down enough to step on the rocks and climb up and over the sewer pipe. Darian pulled me up and we took one step onto the road.

    “Well, we did find a dead body.”

    “Shut up.”

    Probably dangerous to stand on a road at night, but nothing could’ve felt more dangerous to us than those woods. The pavement felt like heaven to us at that moment. We caught our breath and walked across the road in silence. Back to the car, got in, and just sat there.

    Darian started the car and switched on the headlights. The two of us stared into the dimly lit dirt road ahead of us, neither of us wanting to speak. If we did, then that made it real. What we experienced had been real and we had really almost let ourselves be left behind.

    We had almost died. We didn’t know what about what we felt led us to believe death was the end goal, but neither of us doubt we would’ve died if we hadn’t just gotten up and left. No matter how hard it was to do so.

    Something we had both wanted for so long. But given the chance, we didn’t let go. It didn’t feel like the other attempts, to me anyway. I had been in control then.

    “You good?” I managed to croak out.

    Darian huffed out a weak laugh. “Not in the least bit. You?”

    “I’m never going into the woods again.”

    Eventually, he put the car into drive and we left. Back to my apartment. I had work early in the morning, but we didn’t want to be alone that night. So we slept on my floor where I held tight onto his jacket sleeve until the sun rose. Neither of us brought up him choosing to call for help nor me answering that call.

[hargrove-mayfields]

Headcanons Part Two!!!

My last headcanon post was all about Billy and Steve, but they won’t be the only ones showing up in my stories, so here’s some hcs for a few of the most recurring characters!

Starting with Max!!

My preferred middle name for Max is Nicole, because Maxine Nicole sounds pretty, but can double as being intimidating if someone was yelling at her. Also, she’s named after her aunt Nicole just because I can see Susan being like that.

Most important thing to know about Max in my writing is that she is ALWAYS autistic. I might not specify depending on the content of the story, but she is never ever ever meant to be allistic. I imagine her as being on a moderate support needs level, meaning for those who don’t know the term that she has highs and lows! There’s days where she can pass as allsitic and days where she can’t, and she maybe doesn’t need a lot of assistance in everyday life, but she still needs lots of stimming and has meltdowns and stuff!

Related to this fact is that in the 80s, autism was not a very common diagnosis at all, and so I don’t think she’d really have a word for it other than like, that just being the way she is. Because no one will give her the official diagnosis, Neil thinks she’s faking, so she gets told to stop stimming, isn’t treated fairly during a meltdown, told to “act normal” etc, etc, and she needs a lot of therapy in the future for it.

Her favorite ways to stim are rocking on her heels, humming, listening to loud noises (like sirens/car engines/lawn mowers, NOT things like music/Susan doing the dishes, those do the opposite) and dancing!

Her least favorite sensory things are raindrops touching her skin, her hair brushing her shoulders or her face, overwhelming smells (cologne, candles, food on the stove) and furniture that’s too firm! (like a memory foam mattress or a leather couch)

The first time she feels truly seen in the way she is is when Fraggle Rock starts airing in ‘82. Susan tells her to watch it because she thinks Max is still a baby no matter how old she is, but the minute she lays eyes on Wembley Fraggle she knows he’s like her. He stims vocally and with his hands, his friends don’t understand him, he’s empathetic, bad at choosing, gullible, and in every way just so much like her! Her and Billy have an inside joke where, if she’s putting something off or can’t make a decision, he’ll tell her to stop her Wemblin’ and sometimes he calls her Wembles without thinking!

There isn’t a lot of personalized furniture in the Hargrove-Mayfield, so I think it’s safe to say that she doesn’t really have any comfort items lying around. No favorite blankets or stuffed animals or toys of any kind, and I think because of that she clings to people. That’s why she is so insistent on getting in with the party, and why was so excited about having a brother in Runaway Max, because she relies on comfort people instead of objects.

She’s not very good at putting a name to her relationships. Like, she doesn’t really know how to describe how she feels about somebody, she just knows if she likes them or not. If she feels happy and sage with someone, that’s all that matters, she doesn’t feel the need to classify them beyond that. But she’s also aware that others don’t feel that way! And she feels pretty special when Lucas calls her his girlfriend!

In the future, there can be a lot of different outcomes for her.

If Billy stays dead, I can see Max ending up two ways, either staying in Hawkins because that’s where her brother is dead and buried and trying to move on in her own way, or leaving Hawkins entirely, just cutting ties completely with everyone and everything there to move away from the trauma that’s there, except for every year on B’s birthday when she comes back to visit.

If Billy lives though, I think there’s again two outcomes for her. One where she feels guilty about not noticing the mindflayer and her and Billy’s relationship gets a little strained, because they don’t cope well when they’re trying to pin the blame, or one where she is just grateful her brother isn’t dead and decides to live life to the fullest after that.

In any scenario, she would obviously get the happy ending she deserves, she just has to get there a totally different way.

And also, regardless of what path she takes, I think she’d make for an excellent writer in her future career. She’s smart, she’s got lots of story to tell and draw inspiration from, and it just seems right for her, because it isn’t super constricting and it’s a job most people who do it love!

Now onto Robin!

Her middle name is Leora!

For some reason I have this idea in my head that she doesn’t live with her parents anymore. Not that she got kicked out or anything, just that she moved out pretty early on.

I also think she isn’t from Hawkins. I like the idea that her family moved there just before high school from either Ohio or Maryland, not sure which.

In band, I think she’s a flute. She just gives me flute vibes but I got kicked out of the band so maybe I could be wrong.

It’s canon that she’s goth, wearing her spiky leather bracelet with her work uniform and all, but I think she also sometimes goes in the totally opposite fashion direction, like, sometimes she’s just feeling the patterns and fabrics and colors of the sixties and seventies her mom gave her.

One of her favorite things to do with her friends is go shopping! Not like, around malls, in part because other than Starcourt, the closest mall to Hawkins is forty five minutes away, but she likes to go out with her group and visit all the local thrift shops and cafés and stuff like that.

And she’s super crafty! She has embroidery hoops, beads, jewelry making kits, all of it scattered everywhere!

She has like, the tips of her hair bleached, they sort of look like highlights in a way, so I think it was her that convinced Steve to get his highlights done too.

Matter of fact, I think she teaches Steve a lot of things about himself without either of them realizing. She’s just so, not-superficial I guess, that it starts to rub off of him.

In my head she’s just always got like, a suuuuuper good read on people even if they just met, like, she just sees straight through everybody ever, and that’s why she even gives Steve a chance despite knowing how he treated her in school.

Her Scoops! shorts are pretty big while Steve’s are tight as heck, so I hc that those are his shorts. The uniform used to be a skimpy sailor skirt, but she’s seventeen and not particularly keen on being creeped on by older men when she gets hired there, so she refuses to wear it. She gets in trouble on the first day for wearing jeans, and Steve feels bad about it so he gives her the extra pair of shorts from his uniform!

Robin totally bottles up everything from Starcourt until she can’t anymore. Like, Steve is very open about his struggles with what happened under the mall because he wants help and he’s done it alone before, but she feels like she should be strong, grateful that they survived, and just, move on and forget about it. It doesn’t work and she ends up crashing hard. Like she goes from silently suffering to getting panic attacks all the time, and falling in a super deep depression rut. Obviously her friends are very supportive and provide her with the help she needs, and with time (lots and lots of time) she gets better!

Heather!

Her middle name is Ernestine! It was her grandma's name!

I head canon that she is a lesbian and I ship her and Robin!

She calls Billy William all the time because she was raised to be formal and respectful, and Billy just doesn’t feel or sound right when she says it. Even though she insists her name is Heather and she doesn’t need a nickname, Billy calls her Hetty or H!

She wears clip on earrings! Her parents refuse to let her get her ears pierced because they say she needs to respect her image and all that, but she always felt like she was missing some accessories, and found out from one of her friends about clip ons, which they allow!

Even though she has popular girl vibes, I don’t think she was in high school. Just sort of a floater, and she liked it that way! She’s way too sweet to be in with Steve’s crowd, but had some things in common with pretty much everyone else. Once she’s graduated she sort of falls into that popular category around Hawkins because she’s rich and older now, but she’s still the same old Heather.

Heather is a super good baker and cook! Her mother always had her helping in the kitchen while her dad was staying late at work, and eventually she got really good! Sometimes she’ll just randomly bring her friends like, a load of banana bread or a hot dish because it makes everyone happy!

She's a very affectionate person! If she hasn’t seen her friends for a while she’ll kiss them all over, and everytime you see her you have to hug her (unless you don’t want to, she’s equally as understanding as she is lovey!)

I reject canon! Heather is not dead! I know it’s very unlikely but I think the clones in the upside down were like fail saves, and the real versions are all still alive somewhere!

In the case that this is true, when everything gets fixed I don’t think her memories of what happened to her would be intact, and I think that would be super traumatic for her. Almost worse than how she would be feeling if she knew.

In the future she wants to be in the entertainment industry! I can totally see her becoming a country singer or a soap opera actress or both!

Robin becomes a librarian at the same school that Steve works at when he becomes a teacher! She also does art commissions on the side. Sculpting, painting, charcoals, all of it, she’s good at all of it!

And last but not least, Tommy!!

My hc for Tommy’s middle name is Byrd. It was like a super common name at one point and then just sort of plummeted, and I like to think his parents thought they were being original choosing that one. All of his friends call him Tommy Bird to make fun of him, but he secretly doesn’t hate it.

Tommy and Steve didn’t really become friends until middle school! Hawkins has two elementary schools based on which region you live in, and because they live in like, opposite ends of town they go to different ones. But the first day of middle school when the two schools merge, they’re out for recess, Steve sees Tommy alone and approaches him, and they become instant besties!

Tommy is very insecure about his popularity. Steve is cool with letting his slip because he has other things to worry about, but Tommy doesn’t. His grades are alright and his home life is decent, and he’s not involved in upside down business, so when Steve ditches him and people start to lose interest in him, he gets extremely upset. It consumes him sort of, the fear that nobody likes him anymore. That ends up being why him and Carol break it off for good.

Another reason he thinks a reputation is so important is because he used to be picked on before being friends with Steve. When he was little he had giant glasses and dressed kinda lame, and he internalized that a lot. He’s scared that without Steve they’ll go back to that.

All of that is why he clings onto Billy so tight. Like, his best friend for the past six or seven years just walked out without looking back, and he’s terrified that he’s going to be bullied again. So when big tough guy Billy Hargrove rolls into town he’s like I have to be friends with this dude right now or I’ll die.

I ship him with Steve! A lot! But also I like the thought of Tommy and Steve and Billy, platonically and shippy-y!

As for where he’s from, I don’t think Tommy is Hawkins born and raised. He grew up down south, maybe Georgia, or Tennessee?, but then his uncle over in Indiana starts a snake oil business with his dad and they have to move.

I think he’s very much a lightweight. Alcohol isn’t really his thing because his dad was an alcoholic and it scares him that he’ll be like that, so he never really tried it and his tolerance is super low. He always designates himself the driver, only he doesn’t have a car of his own, he’s not allowed to until he’s on his way to college, so he always drives other people’s cars to their houses and walks home.

I don’t know if Tommy is able to avoid the upside down beyond st2. Maybe him and Billy try to keep in contact once school lets out, but he notices somethings off with him because he’s flayed. This could result in him also being flayed, depending on the situation, or if not he might get involved later, because he starts putting the pieces together after Starcourt.

Tommy owning up and joining Steve in monster hunting quests! Heck yeah!

If there is no involvement with all that mess though, I’d say it takes a few years out of high school for him to finally admit to being wrong. Like, he always maintained that he was right to be mad at Steve for driving away and right to be basically just a bully like he was, but once he’s older, mid twenties maybe, he realizes that wasn’t the way to be and calls a bunch of people up to apologize to them.

He goes to beauty school and becomes a hair stylist and makeup artist on television sets!

As for other background characters, like other party members or adults, I don’t have a whole lot of specific ideas that aren’t already canon! In the future if I write anything where they are more central characters that might change, but as of right now I don’t really have any headcanons for them!

[xfandomwritingsx]

Loose Ends - F!Hawke/Varric

-gif source unknown-

Description: After Hawke and Varric have finally settled down, an old friend makes an unexpected appearance.

Warnings/Labels: Anders isn’t a good guy here... just fair warning. Mentions of slavery and death and orphans and not fun stuff. 

Approx. Word Count: 4,500

A/N: Sequel to Reuniting (https://archiveofourown.org/works/17554700/chapters/41368289) and Scars, but not necessary to read them first.

~~~

Varric could hear Hawke start humming happily as she started to wash up. He closed the bathroom door and smiled to himself. It was a wonder how they ended up here, cohabitating fairly blissfully in her estate after both seemingly starting and stopping the end of the world. Corypheus was defeated. Hawke had come back to Kirkwall. Varric was somehow Viscount. (Even he still wasn’t exactly sure how that one happened.) Everything was weird. But in a good way. Things were finally good.

He tied the sash of his robe around his waist before exiting her - no, wait. - their bedroom. (He was still getting used to that too.) The door closed with a soft click behind him and he walked towards the stairs. When he got close to the railing, he immediately noticed a man in a cloak staring into the fire with Hawke’s oh-so-fantastic guard dog, Moose, laying contently by his feet.

At first he thought it was Fenris. They were expecting him afterall, but not for another couple of days and certainly not at this hour. Varric started to descend the staircase casually for two reasons. The first being he wasn’t too worried about the intruder. For all his buffoonery, Moose wouldn’t let just anyone in. The second was because he had left Bianca in the study and alerting an intruder by running to his weapon was not on his survival how-to list.

“You know it’s not polite to let yourself in,” he called lightly about halfway down the stairs. Moose perked his head up and the man turned away from the fire to look at Varric. His features were clouded by the shadows, but Varric recognized him instantly and his blood ran cold for only a moment before it ran hot. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“Hello, Varric,” Anders greeted him, voice solemn and a little surprised. The dwarf was obviously not who he expected.

“You’re really making me regret not having Bianca on me at all times.” Varric planted himself at the bottom of the stairs, body stiff as he tried to control the anger coursing through him. “And you,” he addressed Moose. “I thought I told you not to let strangers in.” Moose whined and Anders eyes fell to the floor, the bitter way Varric spit the word hitting the intended nerve. “Why are you here?” Just for the extra sting, Varric snapped his fingers and motioned for Moose to come to his side, away from Anders. The hound happily obeyed and sat beside him.

“I…” he paused, searching for the right words. Varric noticed his eyes looked tired and his blond hair had grown, peaking out of his hood down around his shoulders. “I need to speak with Hawke.” Varric nearly laughed as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“The lack of response to your letters wasn’t an invitation.” He really just wanted to punch the mage, but he would feel bad about the blood on the floor.

“I know, but this isn’t about me,” Anders tried to explain.

“It never is, is it?” Hawke’s voice came from the second floor. Both men looked up to see her standing at the railing in her bedclothes, hands gripping the wooden edge and peering down. “Nothing you do is ever about you.” The sarcastic bitterness wasn’t missed by either of them, making Anders wince and Varric bite back a smile. If he was honest, a part of him was looking forward to seeing how this reunion would play out. “Selfless healer who sacrificed everything and everyone for the better good, isn’t that right?”

Hawke’s descent down the stairs was chilling. She kept her hard eyes on Anders the entire time, staring him down and forcing his eyes to the floor. She walked down slow, with purpose, wanting to watch him squirm for just a little while longer.

“I don’t take kindly to intruders in my home.” She came to stand besides Varric. He watched Anders carefully, looking to see if he noticed how closely she stood. He hadn’t seemed to question the fact that Varric had been in her mansion at such a late hour (in a robe, no less!) but perhaps that simply spoke to how close he and Hawke had been before their relationship began.

“There are refugees just outside the city,” Anders began, taking the hint that she wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries.

“There are refugees everywhere,” she countered quickly.

“Partly thanks to you,” Varric added, taking a small pleasure in the way Anders shoulders slumped at them ganging up on him.

“They could use your help,” he kept going, pushing through the guilt they laid on him. “They have family here, but the city guards won’t let them in and I can’t sneak them all in myself.”

“So why not appeal to Aveline?” Hawke quipped even though they all knew the answer. The smallest forced smile graced Ander’s lips.

“I think the only way to appeal to her would be to present my head on a platter.” He watched uneasily as Varric and Hawke looked at each other and shrugged, having an entire conversation without words at his expense. “If you’re willing, I’m meeting a contact tomorrow night at the docks.” When neither of them responded, Anders slowly stepped towards the door. “For what it’s worth,” he paused, looking back at Hawke. “I’m glad you’re doing well.”

“Oh, I’m doing very well.” Her arm bumped lightly into Varric’s and Anders eyes were instantly drawn to their hands as their fingers slowly linked together. Realization finally dawned on his face and Varric didn’t even try to hold back his smirk.

“You know the way out,” Varric dismissed him easily, giving Hawke’s hand a squeeze and enjoying the way Ander’s eyes lingered there. It took him an extra moment, but he left without another word. Once they heard the front door shut, Varric turned his attention to the woman at his side. “You need to teach the dog how to guard a bit better. Foolish thing let him walk right in.” Moose whined at his feet and Varric patted his head.

“And yet he growls when he sees Fenris,” she teased. “He’s just got bad taste in men.”

“So, what exactly does that say about me?” Varric laughed as Moose slobbered on his hand. Both he and Hawke chuckled. “Bed?” he suggested.

“Bed.”

~~~

“Is it bad that I’m considering it?” Hawke asked as they lay together in the darkness.

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t,” he assured her, turning under the sheets to face her. She gazed at the pale ceiling, watching the small shadows from the last flickers of the firelight. “It’s not like we have any other pressing engagements tomorrow. We could grab Moose and Daisy and it’d be just like old times.” She shook her head softly.

“No,” she said firmly. “Just us. I don’t want to pull Merrill from the alienage and Moose is clearly untrustworthy.” She called the last bit over the end of the bed and Moose whined from his place on the floor; a plush dog bed near the foot that Varric had painfully trained him to sleep in. He chuckled at the poor hound.

“Probably better that way. Daisy is bound to spill to Aveline anyways.” A light smile appeared on her lips and it was enough to satisfy him. He rolled to his back and closed his eyes.

“If Anders has any delusions about staying in Kirkwall…” He could feel her tense up beside him so he reached under the sheets and squeezed her forearm.

“He’ll have an arrow or a knife in his back. Possibly a sword. All depends on who gets to him first.” Her body relaxed and with a slight laugh, she brought her hand up to hold onto his.

“Goodnight, Varric.”

~~~

Once night fell, Hawke and Varric slipped their gear on, slung their respective weapons over their backs, and headed for the docks. The streets hadn’t changed too much. There were roads and building that needed rebuilt, but most nights it still looked the same. Sometimes it felt like the place was getting cleaned up, but mostly Kirkwall was still riddled with the same amount of crime as before. Only difference now was that casual looters and thieves didn’t want to try their luck on Hawke as often.

The docks were quiet. It made it quite easy to hear the hushed sounds of Anders arguing with a man in a dim corner near the edge of the water. Varric and Hawke looked at each other, listening to the disagreement before making themselves know.

“You weren’t supposed to bring them yet!” Anders hissed. “They aren’t safe! I don’t have a place for them yet!”

“This was when we agreed to originally. Now give me my money or I’ll sell your cargo to someone else.” Hawke didn’t like the way this man said cargo so casually or the way Anders’ eyes widened in a slight panic. She glanced at the man’s ship and noted that it did a good job of looking like a regular trading ship. There were just a few details that put a sour twist in Hawke’s gut.

“I’d like to see the cargo,” Hawke announced. Normally she would have made such a comment much more jauntily, but if Anders was involved with what she thought he was, there was no humor to be had. The man turned to look at her and grinned, showing off a missing front tooth.

“A lady ready to do business! I like it!” He waved her and Varric forward, but Anders stepped in to protest.

“Hawke, that’s not necessary,” he tried. She pulled a small purse from her waist and shook it, little metals jingling inside.

“I’ve got coin,” she told the man. “I want to see the cargo.”

“Right this way.” As she suspected, the man followed the lead of who put the most coin up front. She followed him across the small board walkway onto his ship. Sensing Anders’ nerves, Varric nudged him ahead, keeping him between himself and Hawke as they walked aboard. “This is some fine stock that lousy mage collected.”

The few crew members on deck scattered as they walked by, but Hawke caught sight of others lurking in shadows. Armed. Watching. She resisted the urge to reach for her staff. She did, however take a look behind her and notice Varric was seeing the same things she was.

The man came to a cellar door at the back of the ship. He unlocked it and swung it open proudly, allowing Hawke to peer inside. Her stomach churned as the moonlight poured inside, lighting up dirty, scared faces of children. All of them. Children.

“I can explain,” Anders said from behind her, already in a haste. “They needed help. They’re mages, all of them. They need refuge.”

“So you hired slavers to bring them in?” Hawke could see the man slowly reach for the dagger in his waistband when he heard the disgust in her tone. She gave the kids an apologetic look before gently closing the cellar door.

“I had a plan,” Anders defended.

“Is someone going to pay me for the cargo or am I taking my crew elsewhere?” The man asked, already drawing his dagger. Varric was quicker than him though and had a bolt through the side of his skull before he could even threaten to use it.

“I’ll deal with you after we deal with them,” Hawke sneered, pulling her staff from her back as the guards came out of the woodwork.

It was an easy fight, most of the crew, probably unaware of what kind of ship they had been serving, abandoned the deck quickly. The guards that put up a fight, were nothing special. They’d handled people like that dozens of times. Anders, however noticed a distinct change in the fighting style between the former teammates. When he turned to look for Hawke, she wasn’t by his side like she once was. She was in tandem with Varric.

When the last guard fell, Varric and Hawke approached Anders. They didn’t aim their weapons at him, but they made no move to holster them either. He released his staff, hoping to keep things peaceful.

“I don’t think an explanation is needed,” Varric told him.

“How silly I was to think that when you said refugees you meant adults and that just outside the city didn’t mean on a slaver’s ship.” Hawke’s sarcasm had a sharp bite to it.

“It was the quickest way to get them all here at once.” She rolled her eyes at the poor excuse. “I had a contact on the ship. They were safe.” He sounded like he actually believed it and there was a subtle, repressed darkness in his voice that made Hawke wonder just how much of this was Justice.

“Where did they come from?” Varric asked, finger itching to touch the trigger.

“Various places all over the Free Marches,” he told them. “Some were abandoned and orphaned. Others were rescued from the grip of Templars.” His glanced almost regretfully to the cellar door. “They needed help.”

“So you’ve said,” Varric cut him off shortly. “A lot, I might add.” Anders’ brows knitted together and there was a slight twitch in his hand that Hawke didn’t like.

“Leave,” she commanded. “This is the last time I’m letting you go.” She took her staff in both hands, standing more aggressively. “If I see you in Kirkwall again, if you come anywhere near any of us, if you so much as write to us, I will have you killed.” She paused, searching his eyes. “Both of you.” She wasn’t confident if she was speaking to Anders or Justice or if there was even a difference anymore. His tension softened at her threat and he gave her a look that just for a moment, made her heart ache.

“Hawke,” he tried. “I’m sorry.” She knew he was honest. The sound of his voice and the look in his eyes reminded her of the old Anders, of the one she fell in love with. Her tender nostalgia was quashed when his eyes turned to Varric. The subtle look of jealousy gave her a twisted pleasure. Anders turned to leave, but paused for a moment and turned to address Varric. “Please just… take care of her.”

“Oh, Blondie,” Varric chuckled. “The irony here is that you don’t realize I’ve always taken care of her. Even when it should have been you doing it.” While the brutality of the words caused a sting in Anders, it brought an affectionate pang to Hawke and she resisted the urge to throw her arms around the dwarf and kiss him. Anders retreated quickly off the ship and into the darkness of the night. Hawke let out a heavy sigh before turning to the cellar door again.

“Let’s get these kids somewhere safe,” she said to Varric.

When the moonlight poured onto their faces again, they looked up at her hopefully. A taller boy, perhaps just shy of being of age, came forward through the group, pushing littler ones behind him protectively.

“It’s alright,” Hawke assured him gently.

“You’re in Kirkwall,” Varric said beside her. “Maybe not the most luxurious of places, but you’re safe at least.” The boy’s eyes were trained on their clothes and when Hawke looked down, she realized the sight of blood on them was likely not a good sign to the kids.

“We uhhh… took care of the slavers,” she offered for reasoning.

“Where’s the man? The one who took us?” the boy asked. His voice sounded dry. He needed water.

“Anders is gone,” she told him gently, not noticing how Varric scrunched his brow at the boy’s question. “We’re going to take care of you.” A little girl with a stuffed toy peeked around the boys legs.

“Can we go home?” she squeaked. The boy patted her head gently before looking up at Hawke again.

“Are you going to take us all home?” There was hope in his voice and the way it shone in all of their eyes made Hawke ache. They hadn’t agreed to go with Anders. They were taken.

“Hawke,” Varric whispered. “I think now would be a good time to go get Aveline.” Her eyes turned to him slowly and there was harshness, a bloodthirsty look on her face that Varric felt reflected in his core.

“I could still catch him,” she whispered. “If you stay here, I can catch up to him and finish it.” As much as he wanted to let her go, he reached out and wrapped his hand over her forearm.

“We will hunt him down later,” he promised. “We need to take care of them first.” She looked between Varric and the hull of children before sighing. She knew he was right. These kids were the pressing priority.

“Okay,” she conceded. “Go get Aveline. I’ll get these kids up onto the dock.”

~~~

Varric had to tell Aveline to “lecture him later” about three too many times in the short span it took to get her and her guards to the docks. He’d eventually tuned her out and fell back behind her guard just to get out of earshot.

When they arrived, all the torches lit up the docks so it was practically daylight out. There were kids everywhere, mostly huddled in little bunches and they tried to keep to the shadows as best they could. It was hard to watch and even harder to look away. So instead, he looked for Hawke.

It took him a minute to find her and when he did, he felt like his heart might burst. She was sitting on a stack of crates, using a slight bit of magic to keep the area dim for the child who was sleeping with his head in her lap. She looked so different in that moment; legs folded up underneath her, running her fingers through the dirty hair of a small boy taking comfort in her arms.

“I know you have a habit of taking in strays,” he joked quietly as he approached them. “But something tells me this one belongs somewhere.” She gave him a muted glare and didn’t stop stroking the boy’s head.

“He was scared and so tired,” she told him. Varric scrambled up onto the crate next to her and leaned against her shoulder, looking down at the boy. He had shaggy hair that Varric guessed was sandy colored when it was clean and clothes that seemed fairly new. “He was one of the last ones Anders brought in.” Hawke shared. “Some of them were with him for far too long.”

“Any time with Anders is far too long.” Varric reached out and moved some the boy’s hair off his face.

“He wouldn’t tell me about his parents.” There was a slight tremor in her voice that pulled Varric’s eyes to hers. “I think Anders might have…” Dread ran through him. He looked out at the dock of kids giving their information to the guards and wondered just how many of them were orphaned now.

“I already sent a contact to track him.” He told her lowly. An arrow would be too good for him. Varric much preferred the idea of wrapping his hands around his throat. “Aveline will make sure everyone gets back to their families. We’ll get them safe for the night and get everything moving in the morning.”

“Tell Aveline the mansion has extra beds.” His eyebrows raised at that. “These kids shouldn’t be put in the barracks. It’s cold and dingy and a place for soldiers, not kids. The mansion has room.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and rubbed his hand on her back.

“We don’t have room for all of them.”

“We have room for most of them. Orana will love having people to fuss over and Moose will love the attention.” She looked down at the boy, her stroking pauses for a moment. “It’s my fault they’re here.” Varric squeezed her in a half-hug. “I let him go free. I shouldn’t have.” He thought about telling her otherwise, about taking some of the blame himself, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. So he sighed instead and looked out at the docks again.

“Hawke Estate: Orphanage for Lost Mages.” They both smiled softly before he hopped back off the crate to go give the Guard Captain her orders.

~~~

It took weeks to get all the kids back to their families or in some cases, what was left of them. The look on Fenris’s face when he arrived and saw the mansion filled with little ones was an expression Varric would never forget. All of the chaos was almost worth it just for that.

They’d found the Aunt and Uncle of the little boy that had fallen asleep on Hawke’s lap, whose name they learned was Arthur, shortly before Fenris was set to depart. As they were located in the direction he was headed, he offered to escort the boy there. Varric watched from the top of the stairs as Hawke and Arthur said their goodbyes. As Varric suspected they would, they had grown close in the time Arthur stayed with them.

“Fenris is going to make sure you get home safely,” Hawke assured him for what had to be the tenth time that morning. “I know he looks all pointy and scary and unfriendly, but he’s one of the best men I know.” With Hawke on her knees and her attention on Arthur, she didn’t notice how Fenris looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. Varric chuckled softly to himself.

“Thank you,” he whispered before flinging his arms around her neck and nearly knocking her off balance. Varric felt a sad warmth, a yearning even, fill his belly as she returned the little boy’s hug. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” she said into his, now clean hair. She reluctantly pulled away from him and brushed a couple of tears off of his cheeks. “Make sure your Aunt and Uncle write me, okay?” He nodded earnestly. “Now off you go. Time to go home.” She stood up and Fenris outstretched his hand for Arthur to take. He hesitated only a moment, looking at Fenris’s pointed gloves with question, before remember what Hawke had said.

Before walking through the archway, Arthur turned to look over his shoulder at Varric. “Thank you, Mr. Varric!” he called. Varric gave him a wave.

“Anytime, kid.” He had to admit he’d grown a soft spot for him. Varric never fancied himself anything of a father or anything, but damned if he didn’t love teaching the kid to play cards or the look on his face when Varric bought him new clothes. “Take care.” With one more look to Hawke, Arthur followed Fenris out.

~~~

It was a night nearly a month after all the kids had left, that Varric looked at Hawke and asked the question that scared him.

“Do you ever think about kids?” Hawke scrunched her nose and looked at him like she didn’t understand the question. She shuffled some papers around his desk. They were going over the intel on Anders. The bastard was quick, but Varric called in a favor from Leliana who called in a favor from a Crow and they about had him pinned down.

“You mean like Arthur?” she asked, setting some of the papers down.

“Not exactly.” Varric shifted in his chair. “I meant… having kids.” Her eyes widened just a little when she caught up with him.

“Oh! You mean with…” Her fingers pointed rapidly between the two of them. “Can we even… Is that possible?” He watched as she wracked her brain, trying to recall any sort of knowledge on cross-species reproduction and coming up wildly short of any useful information.

“I was putting logistics aside.” He watched as she contemplated the question.

“I never thought I’d make a good mother,” she admits, finally putting the rest of the papers onto his desk.

“Never thought I’d make a good father either and if my bones creaking is any indication, I’m getting old as dirt.” She cracked a smile at him. “But all those kids I think, Arthur in particular, prove there’s no shortage of lonely, lost children around Thedas that could use two semi-stable adult figures in their lives and we didn’t do so bad with them.”

“You were good with Arthur.” She smiled warmly. “It would mean settling down. No more running around to stop the world from ending.” He took a moment to look around the room they were in; an office of sorts in the corner of the mansion’s library.

“I think we’ve pretty much already settled down,” he chuckled. She shrugged in silent agreement. “And having kids would be its own adventure.”

“Wouldn’t that be the truth?” A wide smile burst onto her lips and she barked out a laugh. “Could you just imagine; Aunt Isabela?” He had to laugh with her.

“You think Rivaini would be bad? She’d be a saint compared to Sera!” Their laughter filled the quiet room and Varric felt it heat his chest. One thing was for sure, he never wanted to be anywhere else but by Hawke’s side ever again. Losing that feeling of love and laughter would surely kill him.

“It would certainly be interesting, to say the least,” she mused as the laughter died down. “It’s something to definitely consider,” She drew his eyes away from him and back to the map on his desk. “After we tie up some loose ends.”

“Let’s get to it then,” he told her with one more smile.

He watched her delve back into the papers and mark spots on the map. She studied everything intently. This was the final piece of her past she needed to shut the door on once and for all and he was more than happy to help her do it. Taking care of Anders was going to give them the peace they needed. They peace she deserved.

“Marian,” he called softly, pulling her once more from the papers. He reached out over the surface of the desk and extended his hand to her. She slipped her hand into his and he held on tightly. “You would make a wonderful mother.” A blush actually reached up onto her cheeks and she returned the firm hold on his hand.

“And you would make one hell of a father.”

They’d been adding onto their makeshift family for years. Both of them had more friends than they ever imagined having before. Their family was immense. But maybe, just maybe, one day there would be room for another little member. Should they be married first? Probably. That’s what normal society dictated anyways. But that’s exactly why he’d sent his family signet ring out to be cleaned last week.  

One thing at a time, he reminded himself, forcing his eyes away from her face and back to the papers.

------

Thanks for reading! This seriously threatened to delve into very dark and depressing places with Anders kidnapping kids, but I tried to keep it light despite that. Hopefully I succeeded. If you’ve enjoyed, I ask that you like, comment, reblog, or if you’re really feeling generous, buy me a coffee!  https://ko-fi.com/writerashley

Keep up with my progress on Instagram!  https://www.instagram.com/thatfandomwriter/

[hardyimagines]

Nightmare

i love your fitzgerald imagines!!! pretty plz when u have time can you do one of him sharing about the scalping story to the reader. lots of fluff would be appreciated :)

Warnings: Mentions of violence, description of attack!

———————————————————————

Life was unfair to a lot of people. It almost seemed as though the ones with the biggest hearts were the one’s who could handle the most and that was why they were always given platefuls of trouble. Weighted shoulders of worry. Aching heads from stress. It seemed as though bad things happened to good people because they were the only ones who could handle it and still remain good.

But was that the case for John?

Everyone who knew him would call him anything but tender. He was anything but sweet, anything but good. He was a cold, empty, lonely, shell of a man with one thing on his mind and that thing was money. Or at least it had been. When had he gone from the heartless son of a bitch who’d rather leave an injured man in a hole in the ground to a man who wanted to protect you from the harmless flakes of ice that fell from the white sky above. There was no difference to you. He was the same man in both scenarios. He was rugged, rough, harsh, angry, cruel, and blunt. He didn’t care who’s toes he stepped on, who he pissed off, or who had a bad word to say about him. He was a big boy, he understood that not everybody in the world would like him, but in return, he wasn’t going to kiss anyone’s ass or pretend to give a shit when he really didn’t. Maybe that was why everyone was so stunned to see him slouched against the bark of a snow-covered tree with his knees bent and his legs parted just enough so that you could sit between them.

He wasn’t a changed man. His heart hadn’t sprouted in his chest when he met you. It didn’t burst to life. It had always been there. But none of the other man showed him such kindness. None of the other man asked if he was warm at night, offered him an extra piece of fish from the river. Nobody else spoke to him even when he was beyond annoyed or tried to be his friend. He was stubborn and intimidating, but deep down, he just needed a little attention. The surrounding men were not his friends. They didn’t give a damn about him, so why should he give a damn about them. It was only you that he cared about. Only you that he ever saw. Ever since they’d stumbled upon your shivering form at the water, desperately trying to catch a fish with your trembling, purple fingers and quivering colorless lips. He’d had a fondness for you, a seemingly rapidly growing fondness that he couldn’t ignore no matter how hard he tried.

It was late in the day. The sun was never visible anymore. It was covered by the blanket of white that showered the length of the sky above. Snow of clouds, you never knew what you were looking at, but the sight was pretty so you didn’t complain. It was empty, vacant, a void in all honestly. But there was something captivating about laying on your back and looking up through the scattered branches to the sheet of nothingness above.

John pulled you from your thoughts when his lips parted. You caught sight of his teeth, covered in specks of dirt and droplets of blood as he ate the fish in his hand. Your eyes briefly dropped to the lifeless creature. You pitied the stupid things. They swam desperately toward the poles pushed into the surface of the flowing current, frantic to try and see if what they were staring at was food. Rarely was it ever. Typically it was just a big, wooden stick, hauled out and jabbed back in so they could catch their meal. ‘They’ being John and the men he trailed along with.

Your head was heavy. Being outside in the constant cold was having a horrible effect on you. You were tired, drained, and for once you just wanted to be the flames that danced in the middle of your group at night. You wanted to be fire. Hot and uncomfortable from the licks of warmth that would graze your body. Your chin was propped up against John’s knee, adjusting on the bony part of his body as your curious eyes slipped away from his teeth as he tore at the meat, and up to his eyes as he clenched them shut for a moment, prepping himself to be spattered in the face by whatever flew off the fish. A small smile formed on your lips, your arms lifting in order to wrap around his leg securely. He had been in the middle of telling you a story, the story of when he’d been out — all on his own, but his grumbling tummy had interrupted him and he wasn’t in any rush to swallow it down and continue talking. You didn’t rush him. You were perfectly content just scrutinizing him. And you would continue to do so until he snapped for you to find something better to gawk at or he sent you a look of distaste.

The man was technically your’s. Labels weren’t discussed though because what was the point when you were in the middle of the tree-scattered, snow hills being hunted by Indians who thought your group was responsible for a missing girl. You yawned quietly, eyes growing droopy almost instantly from the simple action.

John adjusted the fish in his hands before tossing it over his shoulder when there was no more meat left to chomp on. It hit the snow with a dull thud, it’s imprint visible in the ice and even more so when one of the men in the group stepped on the carcass accidentally and smushed it further into the ground. You tore your eyes away from the scene and looked back toward the man in front of you when he let out a content grunt.

He was ready to tell the rest of his story.

“Right, where was I?” His voice was husky and low. He extended his arm, blindly reaching for the small canteen of cold, river water. You watched as various little droplets escaped the metallic rim and raced along his chin to dampen his facial hair. He continued to gulp at the beverage, not stopping until he’d quenched his thirst. He offered the jug to you, but you shook your head in the slightest, your bony chin tickling his bony knee, but he didn’t dare say a thing about it. Popping the lid closed with his thumb, he set the canteen back down in its rightful place before setting his big, blue eyes on your wide, curious one’s.

“You were talking about,” Your hand lifted. As cold as it was outside, he was mesmerized by the warmth that resided in your fingertips as you brushed the thin strands of hair to the side and traced the scar on the top of his head. Your touch was tender and featherlight, he almost hadn’t felt it because of the numbed tissue. Licking his lips, he waited for a look of disgust to pass over your pretty features, but when it never came, he relaxed. He had the temptation to cover the permanent damage, but the lack of reaction from you made him feel a lot more comfortable. He didn’t want to hide.

“Ah,” He nodded in the slightest. His arms were resting against his chest, folding as he adjusted himself so he could slouch further. The reddish-purple shirt he wore was visible through the loose fastening of his big, heavy coat. You shifted between his thighs before lifting your head away from his knee. Your body slid closer. The pelt you were sitting on, a cushion to prevent the snow from soaking your trousers, wrinkled with your movements, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You came to a stop when your knees pressed against his chest and your hands slid to rest on his sides. Gazing at him intently, you waited patiently for him to continue speaking. “Not much to tell you.” He lied. He had plenty to say. His voice was quiet, soft, you had to strain your ears to hear him as he averted his gaze toward the snow. “I had my head turned inside out.” He whispered. His head tilted back to press against the tree behind him. His neck was exposed to you, sprinkled in layers of hair that he hadn’t shaved in months. Your fingers twitched, curious to trace the skin in front of you. But you kept still. You were listening to his story. “Didn’t feel any of the pain at first.. I just heard it. The sound of the knife scraping against my skull.” Your fingers twitched before moving from his sides to the front of his coat. Stroking the thick material, you pulled it open in the slightest before slipping your hands passed it so you could lay your palms against his shirt. His stomach was tense beneath your touch. “I heard them laughing. They whooped and hollered.” His blinks were slow. You could tell he was losing himself in the story, falling back into that miserable moment. “I was choking on my own blood, couldn’t wipe it away, it was gushing, falling down my face and,” His head shook. He tilted his head back toward you, unable to think of what else he could really tell you. “Worst day of my life.” He grunted lowly.

The wind that crept around the two of you was gentle, almost a breeze. But it’s temperature was icy, cold, it made your teeth chatter in the slightest. The man had been through so much and everyone treated him so horribly because of his grumpy and blunt and rude he could be. You didn’t blame him. The man had been savagely scalped. That was liable to change a person. You were stuck staring at him, speechless as your brain painted you a dreadful image. You envisioned him, slumped beneath a group of laughing Indians as they tore at his flesh. You didn’t like the thought of him being so helpless. Apologizing to him would only make him grumpier. He didn’t want sympathy or pity. He’d like to return the favor and scalp those who’d had anything to do with the knife that he’d pierced his flesh, but he’d never be able to have that craved revenge. You tried to give him something better, something sweeter. And by something else, that meant you. Lifting your arms away from their snug position in his coat, you draped them around his shoulders and pulled yourself in as close as you could. “Nobody deserves to go through that.” You murmured. Your breaths were warm. They tickled his lips as you spoke. “Especially not you.” He didn’t know why or how you saw a glimmer of kindness in him. So what, he stayed up late and watched you sleep, ensuring that nobody ever tried to creep up on the camp and harm you. So what he tried his best to snag extra food for you or extra water. So what he listened to your directions over the other men’s recxomendations or his own. It didn’t make him gentle or sweet, it didn’t make him nice. It just made him.. less cruel. He didn’t think it worthy enough for you to say that he, of all people, didn’t deserve to be scalped.

You inhaled deeply before tipping your head to the side and letting your pink lips brush across his own. The touch was tender and slow, he almost felt like he’d dreamt it. Your fingertips pressed against the back of his head, fingernails dragging along his warm scalp, caressing it as you pulled him in for an even firmer kiss. Words never sat well with him. He’d always do his best to stubbornly brush them off of ignore what you said regardless of how true it was. He hated compliments. He hated pity. And he hated feeling vulnerable. But he didn’t mind a kiss of reassurance or an embrace of promise. He knew you were trying to tell him that you wouldn’t let anybody hurt him and as brave as your promise was, he knew that if it ever came down to it, he’d do anything in his power to make sure you were unharmed, even if that meant being scalped again. To have the same flesh torn open in the exact same spot made his stomach churn in disgust and fear, but the thought of doing it for you made that feeling subside. He wouldn’t let you foolishly do anything to risk your life over his own. You were far too young. Far too good. The world was a better place with you in it. It was a bitter one with him.

Your lips opened against his own, body shuffling in the slightest so that you could lift yourself up and on to your knees. Fitzgerald slumped completely against the tree, his strong arms locking around your waist protectively. He pulled you flush against him, your chest molding against his own as your tongue slid out in order to start a battle with his. He always won. And that fact made him smirk. Why did you always come back for more. He lowered his hand to your bent knee and without a word, he drew it over his own, dropping it so his leg was extended straight and you were forced to straddle his thighs. His eyes fluttered, savoring the close proximity and comfort that he felt. He knew that he didn’t deserve you, but he was more than grateful to have you even if it was just for a little while.

Daylight meant kissing was all that could take place. Too many wondering eyes left the pair of you feeling watched, judged, scrutinized too much for your liking. You remained in his lap, body curled around his own as if the two of you were going to mold together to form one body. His hands were gentle as they brushed along the length of your back, eyes falling shut.

“I know you don’t want pity.” You whispered when the kiss came to an end and your face made its way to his neck, head propped up on his shoulder comfortably.

His quiet grunt told you what he didn’t have the energy to. ‘So don’t give me any.’

“But I am sorry for what you went through.” You continued, regardless of his attempt to shush you. “You’re a very strong man, Mr. Fitzgerald. I don’t think most people would’ve survived such a traumatic ordeal.” Your hands continued to brush through his hair, unbothered when your palms or fingertips touch the area that he’d been talking to you about. It made his stomach swell with warmth when you touched his scar. You didn’t think it was hideous. Otherwise, you would be avoiding it at all costs. His eyes fell shut and he laid his head against your chest. He didn’t want to speak, for he didn’t want to say anything to ruin the moment. He hated pity, but your words made him puff his chest out and his lips twitch as they curved upwards. “My poor, poor, baby.” You whispered against his ear. He could hear your smile before he saw it, so when he pulled back to send a glare in your direction for ruining a moment he was enjoying so much, you pressed your lips against the space between his brows before kissing down to his nose and then to his warm lips. You’d stay in that placement forever. You could breathe through your nose, so you didn’t see the big deal as your lips moved agonizingly slowly against John’s. His urge to tell you off for cooing in the voice you just had was strong, but your kisses rendered him silent and he fell back into the state of comfort and relaxation. He really was very grateful for you and he was positive that you knew it.

Maybe one day he’d work up the courage to actually say it.

——————————————————————

A/N: it’s 4 AM and I can’t sleep so here you go! 💛🥴 also!! I learned how to make my own gifs & I’m really excited. This is my first Fitzgerald one.

Tagged: @peakblogbecauseimweak @mollybegger-blog @morphoportis @ghost-of-student-sufferings @drippydownes2002 @ellar21 @sovereigngoth @willowick13 @pansexualginger @heyitscam99 @haroldpain @justrepostandlove @emerald-bijou @multireality @innerpaperexpertcloud @goodiesintheclosetlove @giftofdreams @ihclipse @inkedfandom @thatsamegirl

@doct0rstrange @jakechillenhaal @shanty-lol @centerhabit @clevertheoristpainter @favouritereadings @badmaax @thephuonganh @wewillfindourwaythere @uhhhemilyrose @scarrasco1325 @bignastyfan-nz @hot-and-spiceyyy @azayamari @shane-isa-shame @lonewolf471 @crldrr @keeleyella @overitall2018 @lovebitesimagines @eddieisasnack @axxl-rose @slytherintothedeep @lucreziaborgiatheunholyfamily @demoncrypt1066 @phire23 @orphiceseum @advictedtohim @uncreativezx

[official-impravidus]

5 Times Peter Did Someone Else’s Makeup

By @official-impravidus for @littlemissagrafina

Rating: General

Relationships: Tony Stark & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & May Parker, Peter Parker & Happy Hogan, Happy Hogan/May Parker

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan, May Parker, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, Morgan Stark

Summary: and the 1 time he did his own

(written for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange)

1

To put it simply, he had been in a rush. Competition season was just around the corner, and MJ was pushing the team to their limits with extra practice, which meant morning practice and after school practice. Peter had barely gotten out of the door once he remembered that he had to get to the school, being in the middle of a deep concentration as he perfected his winged eyeliner. Then, the after school practice ran a half an hour late because everyone was slacking on their ancient Greek philosophers. 

So there he was, scurrying out of the metal doors of Midtown and nearly ripping the car door off its hinges as he rushed into his seat.

“Hey Happy! I’m so so so sorry I’m late. MJ made us stay late because Flash didn’t know difference between Hypatia and Aspasia even though they have over a century apart, and then she started quizzing us on which philosophers specialized in Pythagorean, Peripatetic, or Pyrrhonist, and everyone kept mixing them up and we had to go over it for like twenty minutes until we all had it down and…”

“Don’t need the whole run down, bud. It’s okay,” Happy stated. “Couldn’t understand it if I tried.”

“Right. Sorry,” Peter said sheepishly. “How was your day?”

“Same old, same old. Once I drop you off, I’m heading back to the apartment.”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Oh, it’s date night! Where are you taking May?”

“Do you remember that new restaurant near that bike shop?”

Peter’s mouth went agape. “That super fancy one where they put chocolate in everything?!”

Happy nodded with a soft grin. “That’s the one.”

“She always looks through the window when we pass by there! She looked up the menu and I swear she was drooling when she read about the bacon mac and cheese.” Peter smiled. “She’s gonna love it, Happy.”

“I hope so.”

“She will,” Peter reassured. With a content sigh, he pulled out his laptop. “I should probably get started on my research paper.”

“You know Tony’s rule,” Happy said.

“No lab work until homework is done,” Peter recited with a nod. “I know, I know. Which is why I’m doing it now.”

“Is it a blackout kinda day or a white noise one?” Happy asked.

“I could go for some of that boring piano music you like.”

Happy shoved Peter’s arm. “It’s not boring.”

“It just strips all the tenseness from my tight, aching muscles. It lulls me to sleep.”

“If it lulls you to sleep, then you shouldn’t be listening to it while you’re doing homework,” Happy said.

“Then, what do you suggest?” Peter asked.

Happy pressed the radio screen and a string quartet of Panic! at the Disco’s “I Write Sins Not Tragedies” began to play.

“Oh, you know me so well.”

Peter fell into a deep focus and had barely realized the car ride was over until Happy had said a soft “we’re here.”

“Thanks, Happy. Have a good evening!” Peter said cheerfully.

“You’re staying here tonight, right?” Happy asked.

“Yeah, I am. It’s a Compound weekend. Why…” Peter’s faced morphed into a disgusted grimace. “Actually, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” He shook his head. “See you later!” Happy gave a gentle wave before pulling out.

Peter let out a breath, shoving his hands in his pockets, as he headed into the Compound, fiddling with the watermelon gum wrappers crumpled deep in his jeans.

With a skip in his step, he entered the lab, plopping his backpack on the floor and hopping into his rollie chair with a little spin.

“Hello to you too,” Tony said with a laugh. “Bad traffic?”

“Late practice,” Peter corrected.

“She’s really drilling you guys, huh?” Tony asked. “Well, at least you’ll be prepared.” He looked up from his project, but stopped as he caught sight of Peter’s face. “New look?”

Peter furrowed his brows in confusion, but froze. He hadn’t used a makeup wipe on the drive there. “I… uhm… I… it’s not what it looks like.”

“Well it looks good. Would’ve barely noticed if it weren’t for the eyeliner it’s so natural. I mean really, you’re glowing. How do you get your skin looking so dewey and fresh?”

Peter’s brain could hardly catch up. “I mix highlighter with my foundation.”

“See, I’ve never thought about that. Mine always comes out so dull and flat. I’ll have to try that.”

“You, uh, you’ve worn makeup?” Peter stammered.

“When you’re on camera as much as me, you’ve gotta get at least a little pick me up. I mean, some of that shit is high definition. Do I really want people seeing my pores and pimples in high definition? No thank you.”

“Oh. Uh. Wow.”

“You can’t be new at this. I mean, it looks great. I’m jealous if you are.”

Peter shook his head. “I’ve been doing it for a couple months.”

“And why haven’t I seen it?” Tony questioned.

“I, uh, didn’t want you to think it was weird,” Peter admitted.

Tony softened. “Why would you think that?”

“I mean, I worry you think a lot of things are weird. I just, want to... impress you, I guess.”

“Well, wanna know what impresses me? That winged eyeliner. It takes Pepper ten minutes of fiddling with makeup remover on cue tips when she’s doing hers.”

Peter, nearly rendered speechless, nodded again. “It took a lot of practice.” He paused. “You’re really… you don’t think I’m weird?”

“I could never think you were weird, kid.” He pursed his lips. “Well, yes I can, because you put sour skittles in your chocolate ice cream, but that’s what makes me love you. Don’t be afraid to be weird. I’ve been weird all my life. Embrace the weird and conquer the world with your weirdness because one day, what used to be weird will be brilliant and people will want to be weird like you.”

Peter looked to his feet bashfully. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“You know, Pepper has a big charity thing tonight. She could really use your help with her smokey eye.”

Peter perked up. “Really? I’ve… I’ve done makeup on May before, but I’ve never done it on someone with an eye shape like hers.” “Then this will be perfect practice!”

Peter got a little mascara on her eyelid, but he made up with the perfect blend of silver sparkle and charcoal shades.

2

“Stop squeezing your eyes, you’re gonna make the eyeliner bumpy.”

“Well, it’s a little hard to relax when you’ve got a pencil pressing against my eye.”

Peter sighed. “Ned, you just gotta breathe. I’m not gonna poke your eye.”

“It sure feels like you’re poking my eye,” Ned grumbled.

“I’ll do it even lighter,” Peter reassured.

It was 9AM, and Peter was trying to use as much precision in his rush to finish Ned and MJ’s makeup for the pride parade. He had finished his look, a blend of pinks, purples, and blues with silver glitter eyeliner, and was finishing Ned’s rainbow look, or at least, attempting to.

“You were doing so good, man,” Peter whined.

“Because it was all fluffy brushes before this!” Ned groaned. “Just get it over with.”

“I could if you would stop freaking squeezing your eyelids!”

MJ sighed. “Some of us are in the waiting dock, Ned.”

“I’m sorry! I’m not used to this!” Ned exclaimed.

Peter pulled gently at the skin on his browbone, making the skin pulled taunt enough to slide the eyeliner on with one smooth swipe. He followed suit with the other and slumped back into his chair. “Okay. You’re done.” 

“Oh, thank God, because I had to go to the bathroom at like the contour.” He scampered out of the bathroom, legs held tight. 

“What’s in store for me?” MJ asked.

“I was thinking a sharp edged blend of pink and to the dark pink to brown in the crease with a cut crease,” Peter thought out loud.

There was a knock at the door.

“You expecting someone?” MJ asked.

“No?” Peter said, confused. He went to the door, eyes widening in shock at the sight.

There was Tony Stark in a bright blue, pink, and yellow vertical striped suit.

“Mr. Stark! What are you doing here?”

“Today is pride, right?” Tony said with a cheeky grin on his lips.

“I-it is.”

“Great! Then, I’ll give you three a ride. I’m meeting the gang later.”

Peter’s nodded, mouth still wide open. “Because New York pride is endorsed by the Avengers. Right.”

“So, what do you say? I may or may not have pulled out my holographic chrome Ferrari.”

Peter rolled his eyes but let out a light chuckle. “Of course you did.” He stepped out of the way. “MJ’s look will be quick. If you want, I can do something for you?”

Tony grinned. “I’d love that.”

Behind his tinted shades, Tony rocked a pink crease, yellow lid, and blue lower lashline, a big smile adorned by a bright pink lipstick.

3

After the big robot invasion of 2025, the Avengers were beyond exhausted from the dealing with the repercussions and volunteering for the rebuilding.

For the first time in weeks after being preoccupied with volunteering, charity work, and clean up, they could finally relax for a group get together outside of work.

“You know what I could use?” Tony asked to no one in particular. “Really crappy, artificial, not at all traditional Chinese food. Who’s in?” The team all muttered words of agreement, melting into the cushions of the recreation room’s couches. 

“Text me your orders. I sent the menu in the groupchat.”

More mutters of acknowledgement.

Peter settled on the floor, makeup scattered on the coffee table, mouth agape as he stared intently at his reflection, fake lash in hand.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked.

“Graduation is just around the corner and I need to perfect my look for commencements,” Peter explained. He blinked, checking for any warping. “How does it look?” 

The team let out a low murmur of “oo”s and “ah”s and “nice.” 

“That looks fantastic,” Natasha praised.

“The adornments to your face are absolutely astonishing!” Thor praised. “Would you be so kind to apply your pigments to my eyes?”

Peter’s eyes widened. “You want me to do your makeup?”

“I’d love if you did mine, too,” Natasha said.

“I bet you could do some great red, white, and blue for me,” Steve said.

Peter looked around. “That could be really cool. Avengers inspired makeup looks on the Avengers? I mean, that’d be an honor.”

So he got started. As they feasted on fried rice and General Tso’s spicy chicken, they jammed to ABBA and looked fabulous while dancing to Dancing Queen.

4

“So, I made you some of that green juice you like so you can sip on that while we get you ready. We also put together a playlist of all of your favorite dishwashing music which we both know is also your hype playlist and you need to get a little hype! Let loose! In addition, we also brought you some of your favorite hors d’oeuvres such as chocolate covered strawberries, that basil spread with the tomatoes on the crunchy bread, caprese salad, and just a big pile of prosciutto because I know you like to stress eat salty meats.”

May smiled softly. “Thank you, baby. This is amazing.”

“How are you feeling?” Peter asked.

“Nervous. Excited. Mostly excited. How are… are you okay? With this?” 

Peter nodded. “Of course I am. You’re happy, Happy’s happy, and I… I’m happy. I’m happy that you could find something like this after Ben.”

She let out a shaky breath. “I’m getting married.”

Peter grinned. “You are.” He spun her chair. “Now sit there and be pretty while I do you even prettier.”

“You know, you were at my first wedding.”

Peter looked up. “I was?”

“You were just a baby, but Richard and Mary didn’t want to leave you at home after you had just gotten over your pneumonia. You were wearing a little onesie with a tuxedo printed on it, and you had your foofie.”

“I remember my foofie!” Peter smiled nostalgically as he envisioned the fluffy scarf that he snuggled with for years.

“You had just gotten it, and you would just run your fingers on the blue fluff, entranced by the texture on your little fingers.”

Peter chuckled. “Yeah. I loved that thing.”

“But, you caused a little bit of a scene.”

Peter furrowed his brows. “I did?”

“Well, your mom had just come back from feeding you and Ben wanted to make you giggle, so he was dancing with you, twirling and spinning you around, and I guess he jerked you around a bit too much and you vomited.”

“Oh no.”

“In his mouth and all over his tux.”

“Oh no.”

“So, really, there’s no reason to worry about messing anything up because at least you’re not doing that,” she said with a teasing grin.

“Well, I’ll try my best not to do that again,” Peter said. He softened, squeezing her hand gently. “You’re gonna make so many new memories and it’s gonna be awesome, May.”

“So are you,” May said. 

“I’m really happy for you.” He shook his head. “Now don’t you start crying and streak this amazing foundation I just put on.”

She let out a wet laugh and held her arms out. “C’mere.”

Peter gave her a tight hug, snuggling next to her in her cushy chair.

She placed a soft kiss to his forehead. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” He pulled away. “Now, c’mon. Stop stalling. I have to get this done so I can do mine.”

5

“Tony. Stop crying.”

“This is an emotional time and I am an emotional man!”

“It’s just homecoming.”

Tony crossed his arms and scowled at Peter. “Well you’re not one to talk about just homecoming.”

Peter pouted. “You crash a plane and nearly get killed by your homecoming date’s dad one time…”

“Look at my beautiful girl.” He pet her hairsprayed locks gently.

Morgan rolled her eyes with a smile on her dark red lips. “You’re so embarrassing, Dad.”

“So, when are we meeting this boy? Because then I’ll really be embarrassing.”

“Dad!” Morgan whined.

“You still have told me nothing about this boy. What are you hiding? Is he an Anti-Avenger protestor? Oh, oh! Or is he a scheming supervillain turning you to the dark side?” He gasped. “Does he work for Oscorp?”

“His name is Miles, he’s an artist, and he’s really really nice so please don’t screw this up for me because I really really like him.”

Tony softened. “I’ll behave.”

“Please,” Morgan pleaded.

“I’ll behave!” Tony repeated.

“He won’t,” Peter stated. “And we both know that.”

“Hey! I take offense to that,” Tony said.

“Well, as much as I love this wonderful family chat, I really gotta finish Morgan’s makeup, and when you stress her out, it makes her eyes scrunch up and I can’t get the blending right so… shoo. Scooch your booch outta here.”

“No. I want to stay,” Tony stated.

“Are you not gonna distract her?” Peter asked with a raised brow.

“Maybe…?”

“Tony!”

“Okay! Fine. I won’t say a word. You won’t even know I’m here.” Peter turned back to Morgan, packing a shimmery white on her lid, but flipped around when he heard a choked sob from behind.

“Tony,” he said exasperatedly.

“She’s just growing up so fast!”

1

Peter’s gloved hands trembled as he filled in his eyebrows in a room that did nothing to block the shutters of cameras and excited murmur from the large crowd on the other side of the wall.

Tony took his hand in his and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Are you sure you wanna do this? Because you can back out any time you’d like.” Peter shook his head. “It’s time. The new generation of Avengers deserve to have a real face to lead them, and for the public to trust us, they need to know that I trust them too. The world knows Spider-Man and his good. And now, they’ll know Peter Parker too.”

“They already know Peter Parker,” Tony said softly. “Peter Parker conducted the widest reaching scientific climate change campaign. He promoted carbon storage, protected and expanded forests in every country on every continent on the planet, and invented a reliable and accessible long-term energy source cheaper and easier to manufacture than fossil fuels. God, Peter. Once they find out that Peter Parker is Spider-Man, they’re going to love him even more.”

Peter’s face flushed a warm red. “Thanks, Tony.” He looked to his reflection and smiled sadly. Looking at his brown eyes, red blended to his crease and blue lining his lashline, he realized that this was the end to a lifetime of secrets and a new beginning where he could finally share the whole person he was.

“You ready?” Tony asked.

“How do I look?” Peter asked meekly.

“You look amazing.” He pulled him into a tender hug. “They’re gonna love you, kid.” He placed his hands firmly on his shoulders and gave a little squeeze. “Do you know how proud I am of you? Because I am. You’re really proving yourself to be quite the hero, and I don’t just mean in your bright red and blue, which really, are you sure we can’t negotiate something a little less gaudy…”

“Says Mr. Hot Rod Red and Gold…”

“I mean, bright blue? Even I have enough class and taste to know that bright blue is a little much.”

“Tony,” Peter said.

“I’m so proud of you kid. You’ve grown into a fantastic young man, and you’re gonna keep growing into a visionary for this next century. You might even outshine me.” He shook his head. “No. I know you will. Because I know you, and I know that you’re an intelligent, selfless, innovating, tenacious, unbelievably incredible person, and you’re gonna change the world.” He smiled a tight, teary smile. “And the world’s not gonna know what hit it once you give it all you’ve got.”

Peter slipped his mask on and took one last shaky breath. “Let’s go do this.”

My name is Peter Benjamin Parker and I am Spider-Man.

[canonicallysoulmates]

My thoughts/views/opinions about Clif’s insta post....

Important Disclaimer: The following is just my opinion regarding Clif’s instagram post. I don’t speak in representation of anybody but myself. I don’t speak for my fellow j2 fans, and I don’t speak for my fellow tinhats. This is just my POV regarding this situation. 

Warning in advance, I am going to do my best to keep this post cohesive and coherent but my brain is jumping from point to point so if I come off as scatter brained in some parts I apologize. 

Before I get into this post, some of you might be wondering why I am dressing this in the first place when Clif’s post didn’t make mention of j2′s sexuality or of tinhats, it is because I am openly a tinhat and I am vocal one at that, and this is not my first rodeo I know even though he didn’t mention tinhats directly and he brought up things that are discussed by both tinhats and non tinhats alike I know, and I’ve already seen it, that we tinhats are gonna get the brunt of it from the het stans.  

For those of you that don’t know what this post is about, earlier today (12.2.19) j2′s bodyguard Clif made an instagram post regarding j2 and their families and some theories/speculation that there have been regarding j2 and their families, I’m not going to link to the post, or share the post, or even quote the post - even though I will address contents of it - if you really want to know what the post said you can look it up yourself. 

Before I talk about Clif’s post let me address the elephant in the room: Jensen’s comment. Or I should say “Jensen” because I don’t believe it was actually him who left a comment on the post. “Jensen” said that those who theorize about him and Jared’s lives are bullies. Well, he didn’t say exactly that what he actually said was that those who create the “false narratives” that Clif mentioned in his post are bullies. 

I call bullshit. On both the statement and on Jensen being who commented. 

Speculating/theorizing and pointing out what you see regarding a public figures life in your own accounts where you don’t tag anybody does not make you a bully or a hater. That is an idiotic thing to say, if you go by that then speculating that j2 are totally 100% happy in their hetero marriages makes you a bully and a hater too, or is there an exception to hetero positive things because it sells the narrative that they want 🤔

I personally don’t believe Jensen is the one who posted that comment because to me it doesn’t sound like him, I think it was somebody else on his account.

And I find it very...interesting and fitting that “he” commented on this post when on insta his and D’s bearding has been turned to 1,000x, they have reached Shawn Mendes Camilla Cabello levels of extra, even if I thought he was straight I would still think there were problems in that marriage because of how over the top they are lately; it reminds me a bit of a celeb couple from here in PR, for months they been saying they’re fine, that they’re in love, they’ve been going on trips together for all the world looking like a happy couple and then...about 2weeks ago they announced they were getting divorced. 

Back on track, this whole thing is a mess and it’s stupid af, I don’t know what in the hell Clif was thinking when he made that post, I don’t know what he was trying to achieve; I don’t know why he found the need or thought it was a good idea to bring forth things that were being discussed in fandom on the DL and to insert himself into a narrative in which he plays no part, like not to be rude, he can say he’s family all he wants but he’s just a bodyguard and I feel like I should say an occasional one like don’t oversell your importance dude. And even if he was family, the things he brings up in his post are discussions concerning only Jensen, Jared, Genevieve and Danneel. 

And I find it frustrating af funny that he’s so up in arms about what fans speculate in their accounts and he says he considers the boys family but he tends to be silent when j2 are being dragged through the mud and receiving actual death threats. I guess protecting the happy family image is more important.

Jared and Jensen are not the only celebrities to have their lives theorized about, they’re not the only ones who have fans that point out jewelry items like wedding bands or potential house moves, this is something every celebrity has gone through, it even happens to youtubers and instagram influencers. So chill tf down.

My best guess as to why this whole mess happened, because this is a mess of a situation, is that there’s something going on behind the scenes and either they don’t want us to focus on it- in which case good job idiots now fans are speculating like crazy- or they do want us to focus on it and they figured adding fuel to the long burning fire was the best way to make us follow the smoke. 

When I say long burning fire I mean long burning fire, nothing that Clif brought up in his post is new, they’re all things that have been discussed in fandom by tinhats and non tinhats alike for years. 

J2′s living situation, the wedding bands, criticism of the wives, these are all things that have been discussed in this fandom for years and they’re relatively small topics, I imagine that maybe back in the day when j2 first got married these were discussed more often but now a days not a lot of fans, at least that I have seen, talk much about j2′s houses/apartments, or about the wedding bands and when these topics are brought up it’s usually for a day or two tops and I’m being generous like it’s not a massive topic of discussion. 

He brings up the lacking wedding ring and the selling of homes, the ring thing was barely discussed most of us were focused on bigger things, and let me tell you that home thing has been talked about so on the DL in this fandom that I have seen people that are active, way more active and in the know than I am in this fandom be confused af as to what he meant - it’s that apparently Jensen and D are gonna sell the house or something - I’ve barely seen people talk about the house thing and the talk I’ve seen has been facts it’s all about the property and if it appears listed and the like and yet he brings it up along with divorce/separation which has even me going 👀 because in the convos I’ve seen about this topic nobody has ever speculated about this meaning a divorce, I’m sure there’s people that have and I just haven’t seen it but still it’s like why bring this barely being talked about thing and do so while mentioning a separation/divorce like 🤦‍♀️ Now everybody knows about it and is going to be talking about because he brought it to attention. what an idiot. 

Small thing, I take issue with him saying that for some people their passion is to build dream homes and sell and that we have no clue what hard work that is because I’m sure there are people in this fandom who work in real state or who flip houses for a living and they do those things while also speculating/theorizing about j2. 

He talks about how one of the j’s gets criticized for not being home a lot, I will say I have seen these criticism go to both and as I have said in the past I don’t agree with this POV, but it’s a very small niche of fandom that makes comments like that like borderline you have to look for it;  and on the wives being criticized/judged (<- his word not mine) for managing their careers and home life at the same time: yeah no, Daneel and Genevieve are not criticized for managing their careers and home life they’re criticized because they like to act as if they do these things without any help. They have nannies, G has people that help her with her blog, D didn’t start the brewery up by herself and she doesn’t work it by herself and one of her most recent acting gig was on spn a role everyone knows she only got cause she’s married to Jensen. They like to pretend they’re wonder woman and super relatable when in reality they’re privileged, and hey there’s nothing wrong with being privileged enough to be able to afford childcare but there is something wrong with pretending you don’t have that advantage and taking credit for work you don’t do ie. acting like you’re maintaining a home and taking care of the kids all by yourself, and then turning around and acting like your life is a struggle. 

Unless there’s something going on behind the scenes I can’t think of a reason as to why he would bring this stuff up, if anything doing so is stupid because now fans that might not have known about any of these things will know about it and while there’s plenty of sheep who will clap their hands and say ‘those people are so horrible :(’ there are those who are going to get curious and look these things up and where do you think their search is going to land them?  They’re gonna land at the anti blogs, and the hat blogs because we’re the ones that tend to discuss these things. 

Honestly, if  they actually wanted fans to stop speculating they have failed in an impressive way, they achieved the opposite.��

I personally think there is something going on behind the scenes, I don’t know if it’s good or bad but I think something’s going on maybe it’s a divorce or a big project or even something related to spn like a movie but I feel like something is coming our way....

One last thing before I wrap this up, I said this in another post, and I said it on my twitter acc as well but I also wanted to put it here: Clif’s post changes nothing regarding my love and opinion of j2, my status as a tinhat, or the content of my blog. I still love j2 as much as I did before this mess, I’m still a tinhat, and I will continue making tinhat posts both here and on my twitter account. 

This is all I have to say about this situation, I think, these are definitely the main points I hope everything I said came across clearly as I said in the beginning of this post my brain is jumping from spot to spot so it probably came across as a little scatter brained and ramble-y. 

[pocket-clown]

Smile | Arthur Fleck x reader

// AN: I’m going to be entirely honest: I’m very shy about sharing this. This was actually the first thing that I ever wrote for Arthur, and I had posted it awhile back but deleted it within a few hours because I felt (and still kind of do) very... insecure about it, especially since I was, and still am, trying to get the hang of writing for Arthur and I worry that I write him too ooc.

My mental health has been kinda down in the dumps for the last few months (which brings me into thanking the few people that I’ve been DM’ing with on here and how patient with me they’ve been); a lot of stuff that I thought was calming down ended up suddenly flaring up really badly again, and so I wrote this in the span of about three days because I was feeling too bad to sleep those nights, and I needed some way to comfort myself.

Summary: Reader recalls the recent, first meeting she had with a certain neighbor of hers and hopes that it’ll bring about some sort of positive change to her life. Both reader and Arthur are, essentially, total strangers in this - something they both, secretly, hope will change. 

Continuation can be found here

Words: 3,064

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        Very few feelings carried the same weight that emptiness did, and the heaviness that was settled in the bottom of your stomach made your entire body almost ache with physical pain. You’d been able to stave it off for most of the day, but once you were home and left to your own company did it grow in size, and no longer were you able to just ignore it. It permeated your entire being, soaking into every bit of your conscience much like how the dampness of the freezing rain that was pouring down outside would’ve soaked into your sweater if you’d gone out without an umbrella, the thought of which making you curl further into the blanket you had wrapped around yourself as you lay in bed. 

Regardless of how hard you tried to force yourself to think of other things, like the good instead of the bad, or whatever was playing on your small television, you just couldn’t stop your mind from eventually wandering back to the thoughts that did nothing but remind you of how absolutely lonely you were - how utterly meaningless your life felt. It was nothing new - quite the opposite, in fact - but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with, especially since you were in a new environment where you were unfamiliar with pretty much everything that surrounded you, apart from the small amount of your personal belongings that filled your cramped apartment.

Though they varied in intensity, the feelings of loneliness and isolation never actually left you completely; they’d loom over you, day and night, sometimes only a light breeze that tickled the back of your conscience and other times a pest that gnawed a hole into it, and their presence alone made you dread your inevitable return to your small apartment in the evenings where you’d be left with nothing but yourself, your thoughts, and whatever program you could find on TV in a fruitless attempt at distracting yourself. You were just so unbelievably fed up with everything; fed up with feeling so stuck, fed up with feeling so miserable - fed up with just being. Even amongst your coworkers and the crowds of strangers that filled the grocery stores and the seats around you on the subway did you feel so far out of reach, so far out of touch with everyone, that sometimes you felt that you could stand in place and start screaming at the top of your lungs and not a single person would even so much as bat an eye at the outburst. At times you had a hard time even fathoming the fact that you existed alongside them, and you found it an increasingly hard feeling to cope with as time went on and you realized you weren’t really feeling any better like you thought you would’ve. You were beginning to completely isolate yourself; social affairs and being in public had little appeal when compared to the safety of your apartment, and leaving for work was really the only thing you could psych yourself up enough to actually do. 

Why you’d even decided to move to Gotham of all places boggled your mind, but deep down you knew it was a pathetic attempt at trying to surround yourself with more. Deep down, you craved more; more people, more places, more opportunities - because despite your general lack of interest in socialization, part of you actually desired some sort of connection that would give your small existence even a smidgen of something close to true life - something which you were beginning to feel was impossible to find. You’d hoped that moving to a highly populated place with cramped streets and the hustle and bustle of city streets and plazas would’ve encouraged you to come out of your shell, but it was beginning to feel like that was never going to happen, regardless of how much you tried to convince yourself that it eventually would.

That was, until, you actually made the move and found yourself your very own apartment in one of the many neglected complexes that the city had to offer. It was nearly vacant with only a handful of other tenants occupying it, but given your small savings and what little you made from your job it was all you could really afford. Though your hours were close to the normal 9 to 5, overtime for a meager addition to your pay wasn’t uncommon and you found yourself frequently returning home a few hours later - usually around 7, occasionally closer to 8. 

At first, you absolutely hated returning home so late - days at work tended to leave you completely drained of energy and the extra hours left you with little time to take care of non-work related responsibilities - but as the days went on, you realized that if it weren’t for the extra hours that you initially regret picking up, then you wouldn’t have met Arthur like you had.

Arthur - your socially awkward, almost-neighbor; the same guy you were actually warned to stay away from by another tenant when you first moved in. He’d told you something about how Arthur was unstable, something about him being weird and making everyone uncomfortable - but if you were going to be entirely honest, you really didn’t listen. You had always tried to keep yourself from judging someone on a superficial level, especially when you knew next to nothing about them and what little you did know came from the mouth of someone who didn’t even bother telling you their own name. Despite your disincline to believe what you were told about Arthur, though, you really didn’t feel the need to seek him out for any reason or another. He was another guy that lived in your building that you’d probably cross paths with on occasion, and that would be that. 

Or at least, you felt that way up until the day you actually met him.

                                                        -----

Purse in hand, you’d stepped out of your apartment without even a glance up as you rummaged through your bag. Plagued with some of the worst brain fog you’d ever had, you were beginning to develop a terrible habit of forgetting things and not realizing that you were missing something until you were well away from your apartment, and considering how absolutely atrocious your day had already been the absolute last thing you needed was for you to get to the market and realize that you’d forgotten your wallet, keys, or something else equally as important. It was late, nearly 8:30 in the evening, but an impromptu trip to the market was called for as you’d been putting one off for nearly a month and you were starting to run low on quite a few necessities as a result.

Mind far too preoccupied with both making sure you had everything you needed as well as attempting to make sense of the messy mental shopping list you’d made, you were so lost in thought that you failed to notice the presence of someone else in the hallway, and thanks to your complete lack of awareness you collided right into them - the two of you slamming together hard enough that your purse fell to the floor, sending what little contents it had in it scattering, and the other person stumbling backwards and onto the floor with a soft oof.

That other person had actually been Arthur, which you learned eventually, but at that moment you had no clue who the person you’d run into was, and that almost made you feel even worse about knocking them over. You were still new around, and you really didn’t need the others in the building to think you were both careless and rude. 

“- Jesus, I’m sorry!” You blurted out, completely pulled back to reality as you regained your balance and looked down to see who it was you’d run into. “Christ!, I wasn’t even paying attention - I’m so sorry, are you alright?” 

Your eyes met the soft green ones of the particularly tired looking man on the floor in front of you, and for a brief moment you’d forgotten that you’d just knocked him right over as the two of you just stared at each other. He seemed much more caught off guard by the interaction than you were (though you couldn’t really blame him since you doubt he really planned on getting shoved over), and you could feel your face redden with the heat of embarrassment once you realized that aside from your initial apology almost half a minute ago, neither of you had spoken a word or moved from your spots. 

As you stepped forward, prepared to stoop down and offer your hand to help him up, he stopped you before you could by pulling himself up, sweeping his hands behind himself to lightly brush the back of his pants off as he stuttered out a quiet apology.

“Are you alright?” You’d asked him, a bit bemusedly considering the fact that he had apologized to you when you were the one at fault. You kept your attention on his face, looking for any signs of discomfort or irritation; God knew that with the majority of Gotham’s citizens, most would’ve blown up at you for knocking them right on their ass like you had and so you’d braced yourself for the impending blow up - but when it never came and his response was much calmer than you had expected it to be, you couldn’t help but actually smile a bit out of pure disbelief.

“Yeah - I’m alright. I’m fine.” His voice, his deep but soft voice, sounded strained as he spoke, almost as if he were trying to keep himself calm. He probably didn’t want to be in this situation anymore than you did. 

“Are you sure? You fell pretty hard there.” 

“It was my fault, I wasn’t watching where I was going -”

“Oh, no! Not at all, it was my fault - I was too busy messing with my… bag.” You cut him off, voice trialing off as you gestured loosely to the items scattered on the floor. “I should’ve been paying better attention.” 

Silence fell over the two of you, neither knowing quite what to say, and you couldn’t help but shift awkwardly in your spot. You debated on apologizing again or maybe even introducing yourself to him, but you figured that if he wanted to know, then he would’ve asked.

I really need to get going.

With a quick glance at him, you knelt down so you could collect the scant amount of items your purse had spilled, trying your damnedest to not be any more clumsy than you already had been by dropping them again, a task that proved difficult as you were so flustered that you were trembling. He seemed to hesitate in front of you for a second, as if he were trying to figure out if he should just leave you to your mess or help, and after taking a moment of what you assumed was contemplation he surprised you by joining you on the floor and handing you your runaway chapstick, an action you earnestly thanked him for. 

The two of you were silent as you collected everything, and once you had the last item it in your hand, you realized that you didn’t actually recognize it - a white, kraft paper bag that was rolled up to keep its contents from spilling out. It felt light in your hand, and when you turned it over to get a better look at it you were able to read the name FLECK, ARTHUR that was printed in bold, small letters along the top of the label that was stapled onto it.

Oh.

Oh.

This was Arthur. 

This was Arthur - this was the guy you were warned to stay away from? The guy who was helping you pick up the stuff that you spilled, the guy who apologized to you when you were the one who’d knocked him over? It made no sense. 

“Huh - I think this is yours. Arthur, right?” You couldn’t help but pray that he didn’t think you were trying to be nosy. You almost regret saying his name; he hadn’t even told you it yet so one could only assume that you’d figured it out by reading the bag, which rattled slightly as you handed it over to him. “I wasn’t trying to snoop or anything, I just wasn’t sure what it was -” 

“Oh, it’s okay. I didn’t think that you were.” He took the bag from you and smiled; it was such a gentle, albeit a bit unsure, smile that you couldn’t help but mirror as something about it was so incredibly contagious. “And, yeah. Arthur - My name is Arthur.”  

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Arthur!” Your voice wavered ever so slightly, despite your best attempt at keeping it as cheery as you could. It was nice to meet him, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit uncomfortable - though not with him. You really weren’t expecting to speak with anyone else aside from the cashier at the market, and actually having to push yourself to interact with someone on a more personal level wasn’t exactly what you had prepared for. Arthur was kind, from what you could tell, and so you hoped that he wasn’t judging you for how you were probably making the situation much more awkward than it needed to be.

The soft expression on his face seemed to falter ever so slightly, and you realized that the way you had said “...to finally meet you” carried some sort of connotation; it told Arthur that you had already heard about him, and considering how he was spoken about to you it didn’t exactly take a genius to know that Arthur could only assume that what you had heard about him hadn’t been the best.

“Oh, it wasn’t anything,” You tried to dismiss any concern he had as you motioned towards the other apartments down the hallway. “Someone just kinda gave me a run down of everyone else living here - mentioned some names, told me who was around. You were the only one I hadn’t met, yet.” Which was a lie, but Arthur didn’t need to know that. He didn’t need to know that you were so socially inept that you had been putting off meeting your damn neighbors, and he especially didn’t need to know how he was spoken about.

Before the conversation could continue any further though, the weight of your purse in your hand reminded you of why you’d even left your apartment in the first place. 

“Hey - I’d love to talk more, but I gotta run. The store’s closing soon, and I gotta pick up a few things. You sure you’re alright?” You took a step backwards towards the elevator, but kept your eyes on Arthur. You really did feel bad about knocking him over, though something told you he wasn’t that unused to that sort of thing.

“I already said that I was, didn’t I?” His voice was soft, his question rhetorical. You couldn’t help but smile, and you took a second to really look at him; even under the hallway’s incredibly unflattering, shabby lighting you could see that he wasn’t bad looking in the slightest, though he did look a bit tired - he looked like he needed a good nap, or three. He was, obviously, older than you were, but if anything it just added to his charm, as did that slightly too small yellow hoodie that he wore over top of his brown button up sweater. He looked soft, if you were being honest with yourself, and softness was something you learned was becoming incredibly scarce in the world. 

“...So I won’t keep you any longer,” 

Wait - had he been talking this entire time? 

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” His voice was tinged with hopefulness, and you found yourself nodding eagerly in response. He didn’t seem to notice how you completely spaced out there for a second, or if he did, he really didn’t seem to care.

“Yeah - of course! I’m right there,” You pointed to your apartment door, “So, yeah, I’ll see you around. Sorry, again, for knocking you over - have a good night!” 

And with a skip in your step, you pivoted around and walked towards the elevator, pressing the call button about four times as you listened to Arthur’s departing footsteps and the rustling of the Rx bag in his hand as he walked in the opposite direction.

In its usual fashion, the elevator took a good minute to open its door, but there was little time to be annoyed as your attention was pulled from it by Arthur’s sudden “Hey!” from down the hallway, and you stuck your head back out into the hall, arm propped against the door to keep it from closing as you looked at him.

“Yeah?”

“You - You have a really nice smile. You should smile more often.” 

Though his voice was a bit uneasy - shy, almost - he sounded so sure in what he was saying that you did little to fend off the smile that bloomed on your face in response.

“I can try to, but only ‘cause you said so.” 

Though you said it with much more panache than you really meant to, you did mean it. If there was one way to get you to do something more often it was complimenting you for it, and something about the fact that it was Arthur who said it gave you butterflies. 

With a quick wave of goodbye you ducked back into the elevator, letting the door slide shut behind you as you tipped your head back and gazed up at the flickering light on the ceiling. Now alone, you let the smile on your face grow as you let Arthur’s words sink in, and you bid him a mental goodnight as the elevator began its rickety descent.

Exiting the elevator and heading out the front door of the building, so long gone from the eighth floor where you previously were that you didn’t see how Arthur lingered in his spot for a moment, eyes fixed on the door of the elevator where you’d disappeared into before he turned and continued down the hallway, the smile you had become so fond of in your short meeting with him settled on his face.

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taglist; 

@tahliamalfoydepp @tsukiakarinobara (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

[unholyhelbig]

Part Two of the lifeguard/ blood moon thing? I like that universe

Read on Ao3 | Send me more Legacies Prompts! 

Title: Uncharted Waters [P2] 

Ship: Hope Mikaelson/ Lizzie Saltzman 

(Read Part one here) 

Electronic music hissed and pounded, the windows of the small house shaking with the tempo. Lizzie couldn’t bring herself to exit the car. Not with the group of people crowded on the front step, taking easy gulps of whatever cheap alcohol filled red plastic cups. With each wary glance towards the Chevy, she tightened her grip on the steering wheel.

Josie reached across her in a fluid motion, turning the key until the engine didn’t purr anymore. “People wouldn’t be staring if you turned off your headlights.”

“They’re staring because I almost let a kid drown.”

Lizzie kept her eyes forward. She was sure that she had the license plate of the car parked in front of them memorized. WTV-2869. It was an obnoxious shade of yellow that had once been white- Virginia is for Lovers, it read, but she wasn’t feeling any of it.

Kaleb was accustomed to throwing the end of the summer parties filled with alcohol and at least three bad decisions. It was a celebration of a good season and a flaunt of money that each of them had struggled to save up over the past three and a half months of being crammed in hot plastic chairs and mopping up fluids no one wanted to identify, not fully.

“That was almost a week ago, Lizzie.” Josie’s voice was tender and her fingers traced the seatbelt across her chest. She wanted to unclip it and pad up the front steps until she ran into the other girls that worked at the snack shack. All of them smelled like fried dough and artificial cheese but Lizzie never mentioned it. “I’m not saying you should get over it, it’s scary, I know. But no one else is holding it against you.”

Lizzie scrunched up her nose “Hope Mikaelson is, even though I apologized and thanked her for saving my ass.”

She finally conceded after a pointed glare from her twin, because yes, she had been talking about it non-stop for the past couple of days. Lizzie couldn’t shake the odd feeling she got when they walked past each other at the park or ended up being the last two in the locker room again.

The auburn-haired girl had switched all of her shifts to early mornings and refused to make eye contact. Lizzie had the deep and running feeling that Hope Mikaelson was avoiding her like the black death- and the only explanation she could conjure up was a fit of running anger from her own lack of awareness when manning the wave pool.

Both girls exited the powder blue car and breathed in the last summer breeze the season had to offer. There was a hint of autumn in the air that made her want to fold into herself with a good book. The grass vibrated with the sound of the latest pop song, neon lights flashing against the dirty windows. Kaleb knew how to throw a party, and a small part of her admitted that.

Lizzie stopped short of the drive and blinked up at the blanket of stars. The moon, she had noticed, was finally at its full peak. It shone bright like a crimson ornament in the sky, hung expertly on the best branch.

“It’s kind of cool isn’t it?” Josie smiled softly, craning her neck “And spooky.”

Lizzie tore her gaze away and growled “I wish people would stop saying that. Come on, if I absolutely have to be here, I can’t do it sober.”

And maybe Josie was right; she didn’t’ feel the looming eyes of her coworkers prosecuting her for her mistakes. No one even dared a glance at the two of them, not right away. MG stood against the mantel with his own cup of mystery liquor, and he gave a slight dazzling wave.

The pungent scent of weed leaked from the upstairs floor and greasy pizza littered the granite countertops in the kitchen. A few lifeguards loitered by the fridge, laughing quietly about the Polaroid’s tacked up with alphabet magnets.

Lizzie wandered over to one of the counters and fished through the ice bucket filled with alcoholic lemonade and bud light. She opted for the off-silver can, pushing off the extra ice and water. She was content with a slight buzz and staying to herself in the corner, Josie rushed off once she found her usual shift leaders crowded around a table converted for beer pong.

Jed was lingering at the edge of his pack of friends, hand wrapped around a glass bottle and eyes flashing towards her every once and a while. Lizzie pretended not to notice and instead started to scroll through her camera roll like it was something more engaging, setting the nearly empty can on the counter.

“Hi Liz,” He had moved closer, smelling of aftershave and sweat and whatever masculine scent his car had adopted. “I didn’t think you would show.”

Lizzie snapped her gaze up and shoved her phone in her pocket. “And why wouldn’t I?”

“You nearly let a kid die?” Kelsey had pushed herself close to the island in the middle of the kitchen, running a hand through dirty blonde hair that threatened to be greasy. She lifted the oil-stained lid of a pizza box before frowning and letting it fall back down. “I’m sure a party beats a jail cell.”

“Oh well, it’s never too late.”

She shoved herself from the counter, fully intent on joining MG next to the fireplace. Even if she did just stand there and listen to his off-handed conversation about who would best win in a fight between Superman and the Green Lantern. Jed took a step to block her path, giving a wolfish grin.

“Okay, Jockstrap, maybe you should get out of my way.” She knew her voice had gotten darker with the amount of patience she had left. People had never classified her as friendly, especially when she had a saint for a sister, but she had adopted the persona of intimidating.

Kelsey laughed, taking a long gulp of her own drink, “Sweetheart, we just want to know how on earth you even passed your entrance exam?”

Lizzie felt her nails dig into the palm of her hand because she knew she was a damn good lifeguard. She was human and she made mistakes, never had it been one that dire before and her mind was still grasping at that. She had studied for weeks and passed with flying colors- but she wasn’t about to give Jed or his little lackey the satisfaction of her fighting back.

“Leave the girl alone.”

Both lifeguards tore their predatory gazes away from Lizzie and situated them on the entrance of the kitchen; Hope Mikaelson seemed to stumble upon them, once again saving the day. Lizzie felt her blood boil because she had it handled. Much unlike the situation at the wave pool.

“Hope?” Jed had taken a half-step back “I didn’t’ think you were going to come tonight.”

“Funny, I was under the same impression.”

Kelsey swallowed loudly and lifted her chin in defeat, maybe even acknowledgment before the two of them stalked off and out of the kitchen entirely. Hope’s eyes were dark, darker than she had ever seen them before. Darker than that night in the locker room. She let out a sigh that was deep enough to echo a growl.

“I didn’t need your help.” Lizzie protested.

“Oh really? It seemed like you did. Jed and Kelsey would have eaten you alive, trust me.”

Hope turned away at once and left the kitchen through the hallway entrance. A small passage lined with photos of Kaleb’s family, one on the beach and two graduation shot’s. Lizzie pretended to ignore the fact that there was none of him. She followed her quickly.

“You can’t keep doing that.”

“Doing what?” Hope asked innocently.

“Swooping in like I’m some damsel in distress and you’re the hero that saves me from certain doom. I’ve got it covered, okay?” Lizzie reached forward and grasped at Hope’s wrist, trying to stop her halfway through the corridor.

Her back was suddenly against the drywall, the picture frames shaking at the strong impact. Though she had a few inches on Hope Mikaelson, she felt her heart rate spike. The other lifeguard had her pinned, a hand splayed next to her head and a dangerous hint in her stare.

“Don’t touch me, Saltzman. Not tonight.”

Lizzie gulped in the scent of vanilla and something metallic that she couldn’t’ place. Her voice came out a slight whisper and Hope’s impossible gaze flicked down to her lips. “What’s so different about tonight?”  

“Coming here was a mistake.”

Hope tore herself away from the situation and pushed towards the front door. Through a group of people too stubborn to move. Lizzie blinked twice and tried to clear her head of the intoxicating allure that she had never registered before. She followed her again, instant relief washing over her once she was away from the stuffy house.

Anger still bubbled like an unchecked stew. What Hope had just done was shockingly intimate and her skin tingled where her hands had all but lingered. She glanced up at the moon sparingly and padded onto the walk where she searched either direction, but no Hope.

A thicket of woods surrounded the back of Kaleb’s house and for some pulling reason, Lizzie decided to brave it. The neon light of her cellphone was enough to make up for what the Blood Moon didn’t- and really, it wasn’t so hard to move along the wet trees and the subtle sounds of crickets.

“Hope!” she called out, breaking the near silence.

Lizzie shouted out a few more times before she stumbled into a clearing surrounded by stars. The stretching grass reached her knees and swayed like a crimson ocean in the scattered light. A deep pit formed in the center of the blonde's stomach; because maybe this was a terrible idea. The hairs on her arms stood up at attention. She didn’t feel alone.

She scanned her eyes against the tree line as the wind picked up until they landed on a set of eyes. Too low to the ground to be human, glowing like the moon above as they bored into her. She had read somewhere that in the face of an animal you had to make yourself look bigger but all she wanted to do was shrink.

Lizzie was rooted in her spot, helpless as the creature slowly stalked from its home in the shadows. Large and black and bigger than any type of dog that she had spotted before. Its eyes were a dark red and a deep growl erupted from the wolf’s chest. Lizzie felt like her own was on fire.

Another, smaller wolf, that was spotted in gold followed, its stance strong and offensive. Now would be a good time for her to run, or to cry, she wasn’t sure which instinct would latch onto her first but with the way her eyes felt heavy she considered it was the latter.

“Good doggie,” Lizzie held her palms out and lowered them because she saw it in a Chris Pratt movie about dinosaurs once. But the animals kept approaching and her legs felt like Jell-O. “Nice doggie.”

The larger one snarled and crouched lower to the ground. Its tail tucked and nose crinkled, and suddenly it was increasing its speed. Lizzie dropped to her knees and clenched her eyes shut, and she waited for impact.

For the warmth of blood and the sound of her own screams. The thought of News Vans and police officers and yellow caution tape flashed in front of her instead of some poetic movie of the good parts of her life. Maybe they wouldn’t even find her body because it would be picked clean to the bone.

Instead, she breathed deep on the scent of soil as she felt it work its way under her nails. There was another noise, one that was louder than her own heart. A yelp of fear low enough to only come from the animal lunging at her.

She propped one eye open and saw the black wolf on its back, hissing out in what could only be described as palpable fear. The yellow one had its tail tucked and eyes averted, golden and flashing in the light of the moon.

Lizzie dug her heels into the dirt of the clearing and pushed herself back a couple of inches, propping up on her elbows. Another wolf, smaller than the black one and so gray it was almost white like snow, emitted a loud and commanding rumble.

She felt her hands dig right into the roots of the grass as if she gripped it for stability. The black wolf rose from its position and let out a huff of air before dashing back into the cover of the trees. Inky and all too consuming.

The newcomer sent out another warning growl before the second animal scampered away entirely. But Lizzie could still feel the fear in the air like electricity as the white wolf shot an accusing glare at her, leaking with the annoyance of something larger.

The hair on the wolf’s back suddenly smoothed out and its ears were flat, head dipping and brilliant golden eyes shrouded with worry.

Lizzie conjured her words “I’m okay. Thank you.”

She sat and stared at the creature for a long moment, feeling the sting where her palms had scraped against rocks and dirt. It cocked it’s large head to the side as if questioning her, and took a daring step forward.

“You’re not so scary, huh?” She leaned up a little bit and the wolf let out a huff of air as if to protest the statement. “Oh? And you can understand me too.”

Maybe this was a fever dream, she realized suddenly. She had fallen in the woods looking for Hope and had hit her head on a log or a rock. Someone would come looking for her eventually and she would wake up in a hospital bed with enough ammunition to get even with Hope Mikaelson for saving that kid.

“Lizzie!” The call of her sister broke the world that they were in and the wolf took a few ample steps back. Those brilliant marigold orbs scanning the tree line.

“Wait, don’t-“

But the wolf had already caught wind of the scent and was rushing in the opposite direction of the way it carried. Fluid and so strong in its motions that Lizzie was entirely sure that none of this could be real.

Her sister, covered in muck and dirt, sprouted through the trees, nearly falling over herself. Lizzie felt bad for the worry on her face and the pure fear that soon followed. “MG said he saw you run out of the house and go into the woods- what are you doing out here?”

“I needed some fresh air.” She didn’t even buy that.

“Then why are you on the ground?”

“Looking at the moon, you’re right. It is kind of cool.”

Josie suddenly got a pensive look on her face as she squinted at the apple-red color in the sky. She shook her head and reached a hand down to her sister, not minding the dirt or the possible blood that coated her own palm. She pulled her to her feet and glanced around apprehensively.

“Come on, it’s creepy out here and I’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

Lizzie didn’t’ answer, instead, she followed Josie and hoped that the shorter of the two knew where she was going. But her nerves eased as the electronic sound of the party's music started to fill her ears once more. She couldn’t help but agree;

This was too much excitement for one night.

[dennou-translations]

Violet Evergarden Gaiden: Chapter 3

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We’d held hands in the darkness. The only proof that we were alive had been our body temperature. Whenever she’d say that she was scared, I’d reply with, “It’s all right”. “Your Big Bro will do something about this,” I’d tell her.

The one who’d affirmed my existence was my little sister. I’d managed to get courage from the fact that I could be relied on. That, yeah, I was an older brother. That she was no good without me, so I had to keep on living.

But I didn’t remember. I didn’t know.

Had someone broken me? Had I broken on my own? I didn’t know.

Still, she definitely existed. If I met her someday, I’d know it was her for sure. Even if I had forgotten, even if I couldn’t remember her, I’d recognize her if I saw her. I wished the same to be valid for her.

That feeling alone stayed inside me like a bonfire.

Whether the continents scattered around the world were big or small made no particular difference for the people living in them. Any place was the same should there be humans living in it. They would plow and grow. Harvest, build and color. Create and fail. Hide, interact, destroy, starve, succeed. Become depressed. Shed tears, coerce. Sparkle, act immoral. Repent, depart, worship. Acclaim, breed, mourn. Become idle. Become nostalgic. They would love each other and kill each other.

And so would he.

Back when a certain continent put an end for once to a war that had extended for a long time, the “Continental War”, battles continued happening in another continent as if it were natural. On the topic of occupations that had deep ties with so-called “wars”, there were mercenaries.

Although there existed different types of them, the mercenaries who wandered that continent were in majority freely warriors who would join any faction depending on the pay. They would head east today and west tomorrow. It did not matter if, for instance, a fellow mercenary with who they had drank together turned into an enemy. They would also not care for whatever happened to the head of the lord whose favor they had earned, or to the village of the woman they had slept with, depending on the money.

And right now, too, a single mercenary was being led to the death that would certainly come to many others.

“So cold.”

Sandy blond hair swayed in the wind mixed with ashen dust. A man with looks that would be a waste should he perish in such a place lay collapsed the way he had been born. His ivory skin, in which golden hair stood on end, was exposed mercilessly to natural threats. The man groaned amidst his clouded memories, asking himself how on Earth things had turned out as such.

——Three days ago, I was killing. Two days ago, also killing.

He recalled several battles that he had surrendered his body to joining in a spur of the moment.

——Yesterday... that’s right, I was in the bar of a small highway town dancing with women, drinking...

The man could more or less understand what had happened. He had extravagantly squandered to his heart’s contentment the reward he received for surviving wartime fire and spent the night with an absurdly fine woman, who had taken notice of his lavish feasting. His lodging and the drinks he had consumed were arranged by said woman. She had most likely administrated some sort of drug into them.

“I feel sick... oeh...”

The fact that all of his belongings had been stripped off him, that the bounty he had earned at the cost of his life had been snatched away, and that he had been left to chance in such a place without anyone bothering to finish him off could not be called anything other than misfortune. Only that his body was not tied up was good luck, but even if it were, he would not have moved. It seemed he had by no means the energy to stand up.

“Some...” he attempted to say, but closed his mouth.

——Even if I call for somebody, there ain’t anyone around. Who even is “somebody” to me, anyway?

The man did not have comrades or family to aid him in such a time.

That was what it meant to live as one pleased. He would make his baggage as light as possible and simply move forward to wherever he saw fit. If he had some sort of grandiose goal, it might lead him to good results. A lukewarm existence would sometimes turn into a hindrance for life decisions. Those who had nothing could probably see a world far broader than those who had everything. However, having no one to grieve for them when tasting such final moments was lonesome.

A pain ran through somewhere in the depths of his chest – the spot that was called “heart”.

“Nope, I ain’t dying.”

The pain ran through, but the man did not have the spirit of someone who obediently perceived fate as fate. He balled his fists, exhorting his body and attempting to stand up somehow.

“As if I’d die... As if I’d die; as if I’d die!”

Perhaps because that roar had been the last of the strength he had left, from head down, the man collapsed onto his back once again after just yelling. Buried by sand, he lost consciousness. In his primary circumstances, he would have died there. Nevertheless, there was a certain number of individuals beloved by the Goddess of Fortune to the point of it twisting their destinies. The fact that a motorcycle was transiting the road-less way and that he met a passerby with a good heart who stopped upon finding him were all the work of the Goddess of Fortune.

The man opened his eyes again after few hours had gone by.

“Who... are you, seriously?” Due to the surprise, but also because he was sitting up, his voice was hoarse.

“I’m Hodgins, a veteran in the middle of a trip. I’m the one you owe your life to for picking up your butt-naked self from the desert.”

He was a bit of a rich man, an easy-going one who could easily chime in with others, extremely calculating and intrigue-loving, who scored a large profit in war gambles and had an upstart. He was an entrepreneur currently in the middle of stablishing his business. That was the man’s first encounter with Hodgins, his lifesaver.

“Why’d you help me, Old Man?!” his harsh voice echoed throughout the interior of the shop.

The two were in an open-terrace restaurant located at the first floor of an inn to which the man had been heading. It was too late for breakfast and too early for lunch. The man was conspicuous. After all, no matter how one looked at it, he was dressed in baggy, obviously borrowed shirt and trousers.

“Ah, I’m sorry. This kid is a bit ill-mannered. Yes, he’ll quiet down... Hm? Wait a minute. ‘Old man’...!? Me...?” Hodgins opened his eyes wide and leaned closer to the man.

That was what he was going to react to?

The youth and the overly cheerful man were a mismatched combination inside the refined inn. It was inevitable that the gazes of the customers would gather upon them in a natural manner, but at a growl of, “We ain’t for display!” from the young man, everyone looked away.

“Old Man, listen to me.”

“No, no, more importantly, how about we clear up the issue of whether or not I look like an old man? I’m indeed past my twenties already, but I’m younger than the people from my generation who are married, my stomach doesn’t stick out yet, and more than anything, I’m a fine man, right? Do I really seem like an old man? Not a big bro? How about you try thinking it over? Ready, set—”

“OLD. MAN!”

As if stabbed in the heart by his words, Hodgins clutched his chest and moaned. “What is it... young man...?” Even his voice was pained.

“Why’d you help me? You’re even treating me to food... What’cha after? I’m telling you I’ve got no money.”

It was true. If the man were billed for a meal in that place now, it would be the end of the line for him.

In contraposition, Hodgins waved his hand to the side. “Nah, I’m not after anything.”

“Then you want my body?”

“You’ve... got too much confidence in yourself. Well, when I first saw you, your body was buried in sand and I couldn’t properly see anything other than your face... so, I thought you were a naked pretty girl who had passed out.” After glancing fleetingly at the man, he turned his head to a different direction, eyes far-off. “When I lifted you in my arms, I noticed you had something extra there... but you were still alive, so I brought you back to the inn with me, stroked your body since you were with hypothermia... and when I realized, it was morning. I knew you had no money just by looking. You had nothing with you.”

This time, the one with an aching chest was the man. “My bad. For... not having anything.” As his voice tone changed quite a bit, perhaps what had been rubbed was a very sore spot.

“Young man, why were you asleep in that place?”

“‘Why,’ you ask...?”

Albeit hesitating to discuss his misfortune, he talked about his situation in a summarized way. Hodgins had listened seriously at the beginning, but from the middle onward, he turned his face to the side and his shoulders trembled as if he were holding back laughter.

“If you wanna laugh, just do it...!”

“Eh, can I? Ahah! Ahahahah! You’d finally earned some and lost all of it?! That’s too pitiful! My stomach hurts... Ah, hold o—hold o—wait up. How about you stop lifting that chair? Let’s calm down? It was terrible, wasn’t it? You’re hungry too, right? Eat up, eat up. Speaking of which, I didn’t ask your name either. Young man, what’s your name?”

Silence.

“Hey, hey, no matter how badly behaved you are, you should at least give your name.”

Pouting, the man muttered curtly, “Ain’t got it.” Seeming to have been made from the colors of the summer sky and blown into a glass ball, his remarkable eyes clouded over, and he defiantly spoke one more time. Crossing his arms, he rested his feet on the table. “I ain’t got a name. I might’ve been given one, but I don’t have any. Call me whatever you want. My registration name from when I used to be a mercenary was ‘Blue’. Since I dunno my name... I went with my eye color.”

Hodgins showed agitation for the first time in front of the man, who had turned into a lump of displeasure. “‘Don’t have any’... What do you mean?”

“Amnesia. My memory’s got nothing but what happened starting from a few years back. I dunno where I was, what I was doing, where I’m from or who I was before this. When I came to, I was lying on a riverbank at the borders of this continent. Back then, I was wearing an armor and a cape... If I hadn’t been picked by a woman gypsy, I’d have died just like that.”

Hodgins at last realized his own words to have been a verbal gaffe.

“You don’t remember anything? Not a single thing?”

Silence.

“Is there something you do?”

That might have been important to the man enough to make him falter even at putting it into words. After showing an expression of hesitation, he finally opened his mouth. “I probably... had a... little sister.” His attitude was almost that of confessing a sin. “Still, I don’t remember her. I just have the memory that she existed, and I dunno what kinda person she was. But she was definitely there. I remember that.”

Hodgins wound up gripping his own shirt at the chest area.

“I tagged along with the gypsies for a while, learning from them how to sing, dance and stuff. Then, in the end, I changed jobs to mercenary. Looked like fighting fit my nature better, y’see. ‘Battle-Hungry Freak’ is my nickname. I’m famous in the mercenary world.” Upon saying so, the man shrugged. “Well, that ain’t a name, though...”

He did not know who he was. Just how worrisome was that for him? The man did not seem to have a commendable personality at all, yet he was apparently concerned about not having a name.

“Hu~n... that so? So, you... were a mercenary, yeah?”

“That’s right. Is it bad?”

“I’m not saying that it’s bad per se. But even so, you got no money, no name or anything at all?”

“No”, “no”, “no”. The man’s rage towards his own life was present at the many sorts of “no”.

“You wanna get killed, Old Man? Just saying it, but I don’t have any sense of moral obligation, so if I don’t like someone, I’m fine with beating them up.”

“Yep, you’re like that. Not a single ‘thank you’. But I... don’t hate insincere guys like you.”

“What’s with that?”

“Also, you see, I have an acquaintance... it’s a girl who resembles you... Even though I’m her legal guardian, I left her with other people and went on a journey as if running away. I sort of got the feeling I couldn’t leave her by herself.”

——Someone who resembles me?

Was there any such person in the world?

“What kinda fella is she?”

Not answering the man’s question, Hodgins gave breadcrumbs to a dove that lay in waiting at his feet for his meal’s leftovers to fall down. Whatever he was thinking, he stayed quiet for a while and suddenly rose from his seat, chasing after the dove. The other doves could not stand his imposing action, batting their wings and fleeing into the sky.

“Hey, what kinda fella is she!?” his angry shout overlapped with Hodgins’s innocent laughter and the sound of bird feathers.

With the town that the doves had flown toward at his back, Hodgins turned around. His eyes seemed to be looking at the man, but were not.

“The strongest and weakest in the world.” As expected, Hodgins was smiling, but his eyes did not form an arc. Regardless of whether the person he referred to was evil or good, the air around him transmitted the fact that she was someone important.

The man frowned.

——What’s that...? A riddle...?

He became even less able to understand the lifesaver in front of him.

“I also have to just go and face her already.” Hodgins had said he was in his thirties, but he seemed older than that as he talked about the “strongest and weakest in the world”. “I can’t tell her... that it’s hard for me to look at her face when she seems sad.”

Eyes crinkling, the man thought:

——This dude... he pretends to be decent but something’s up with him.

He sensed a twist from the laughing other man. The latter spoke a lot at first, but he had seemed to be giving vent to his thoughts rather than having a conversation. Was he not burdened with some sort of enormous problem? One that he truly could do nothing about, no less.

“It’s settled.” Hodgins pointed an index finger at the man and snapped one of his eyelids closed. “If you aren’t anything, won’t you tag along with me?”

“Meaning... you’re gonna hire me?”

“That’s right. You lack too much of everything. Come to my place earn money. You need cash to search for your sister and to get revenge from the guys that threw you naked into the desert, don’t you? In exchange, can you lend me your life for a bit?”

“Hah?”

“Right now, you only have your life, yeah? I’ll buy that.”

At those words, the man’s heart started making astir sounds. He was supposedly used to having his life bought with money, but when asked for it face-to-face, his breathing felt as if it would stop.

“How much is it?”

Upon being asked so, the man was at loss for an answer.

Afterward, the man acquired a name.

“Benedict Blue”.

He also secured a profession and a place to sleep.

The CH Postal Company.

He had a lifesaver who was dear to him.

Claudia Hodgins.

He obtained comrades as well.

He had treaded a long prologue, but that was his story.

Benedict Blue

“The rough explanation ends here. The client who made this request just wants the letter sent definitively. Little Violet will do the ghostwriting. Benedict will do the delivery. It’s a sudden commission, but it’s good that you two were going to work in the same place. I can also count with Benedict for seeing off and meeting on return with Little Violet. I’ll give you a few days’ break when you’re done, so do your best. How’s that? Does it seem okay?”

Benedict observed the golden-haired girl who immediately answered, “Yes” with blue eyes similar to hers. They sat next to each other on a sofa in Hodgins’s room. It was a languid early morning. Work was about to begin that day as well.

The climate, atmosphere and food of Leidenschaftlich, which Benedict was once not used to due to having come from a different continent, now penetrated his body without any sense of displacement.

“Fine.”

He had no reason and was not in the position to refuse. The one in front of him was his lifesaver and superior. He did not show respect for the latter, but felt familiarity from him. Most likely, of the highest degree.

“V, don’t make your luggage too heavy. It’ll weaken my beloved bike’s movements.”

The girl beside the amnesiac Benedict was an individual who had only just appeared into his short life. From the time they had first met, to Benedict, she had rooted herself in the classification of people whom he “somehow could not leave on their own”. She was a stunning Auto-Memories Doll. Her impudence aside, she was an ignorant child unknowing of the ways of society. In the beginning, he had doubted that such a machine-like person come from the military would manage working in the service business, but she was currently the most popular figure of the CH Postal Company.

“That is true. I shall reduce the firearms to the minimum equipment. My body weight is also heavy due to the prosthetics, so it will increase the burden on Benedict’s motorcycle.”

Her fine appearance had always stolen the eyes of whoever looked at her, but lately, he had the feeling that her charm had increased. It was as if spring had been born from within her cold beauty.

“Even if the equipment is scarce, if I am with Benedict, I will probably not struggle in case of emergencies.”

She had become able to smile faintly on occasion.

The biggest incident amongst the ones that they had just recently experienced in person – the Intercontinental Train’s hijacking – crossed Benedict’s mind. And so did a man with an eyepatch, who had showed up embracing Violet sideways as she had lost an arm, and taken his leave.

He had not heard everything about the past of the two, but Hodgins had told him the general story afterward. They were in love with each other. There was no room for anyone to come in-between. Their colleague, Cattleya, had said that the two apparently started seeing each other on off days. “I’m glad,” Cattleya had laughed.

Benedict did not deem it as good.

That was probably the reason why looking at Violet felt somewhat unamusing as of late. He suspected that she was being deceived by a much older man who had conveniently vanished and come about once again.

Putting it positively, he was worried.

Benedict tautly flicked Violet, who had no idea about his feelings, on the forehead with his fingertips. “Not really; you’re light. It’s just that your bag’s heavy. Old Man, you ever lifted V’s luggage? Swing that thing around and it’s like a normal blunt weapon; a blunt weapon. There’s a ton of weapons in it under her clothes.”

Hodgins made an all but deplorable face. “Little Violet... you buy guns with your salary, right...?”

“They were distributed to us back when we were in the military, but now I have no option except purchase them myself. I can only take Witchcraft when President Hodgins grants me permission, after all. I have recently purchased a long-range shotgun. My hands are actually more accustomed to wide-swing maces, however...” Perhaps due to having a desire to acquire large weaponry, Violet moved as though wielding the real thing, staring fixedly at the imaginary weapon.

“No can do, no can do. I’ve gone through the trouble of getting you a cute look, so don’t take stuff like that with you aside from emergency cases.”

“Stop, stop. Giving you a ride would get even heavier.”

Completely shut down by the two men, Violet put on a disappointed expression, as if disheartened. “I am prepared to explain the advantage points of the mace, though...”

Without her having the opportunity to give said explanation, the two were set to depart in haste. Seen off by Hodgins and after Lux, who was on phone duty, waved at them, Benedict and Violet left the agency.

The blond duo swayed on the motorcycle towards wherever.

Autumn had ended, the seasons changing into winter. Leidenschaftlich usually did not witness snowfall, yet icy winds were blowing. Gloves, scarves, hooded coats – even if the protection measures against low temperatures were appropriate, cold was cold. As the one driving, Benedict had no choice but simply endure the chilly gusts head-on. Violet’s artificial arms around his torso were gelid as well. The heat from the part of her actual body that was in contact with his back was the only warmth. He could feel the hold of her arms more firmly than when giving her rides back in summer. Was it because of the coolness or because of her trust in him?

Feeling an itch, Benedict sneezed, “Achoo!” While vigorously speeding up the motorcycle over the vast land, he initiated a conversation for no particular reason, “It’s cold!”

“Yes.”

“V, your prosthetics okay? Ain’t there any downsides or something if they get too chilled?”

“It is bad if the joints freeze, but that will not happen as long as the coldness is not extreme.”

“Hu~n.”

“We mostly roamed around northern lands during the Continental War, so I am knowledgeable of the protections against cold.”

“Well, the place we’re going to – Lontano – is inside Leidenschaftlich, so for starters, it won’t be snowing there this time of the year. As long as the weather isn’t abnormal, that is. There’ll also be no obstacles to my delivery duties.”

“Yes. This is reassuring.”

“Hey, don’t say that.”

“Why not? The climate is stable. The one who said that there would be no obstacles to the delivery duties was you, Benedict.”

“That’s not it; it’s ‘cause you’re with me. When you say stuff of the sort, it feels like something will happen instead.”

“So the weather will become abnormal because of what I said?”

Benedict knew that Violet’s eyebrows were furrowing even without looking at her. He laughed aloud. “Stu~pid. You’ve got it wrong. I’m saying that ‘cause it’s easy for some kinda problem to happen when I’m with you. To make up for your luggage being lighter, we got ready to manage at least an interception if anything in general goes down, but... Lontano is a pretty big city, so there’s lots of thugs. Flashy towns also got many dark sides.”

“What an issue...”

“You got picked by some weirdo and it was fight on; you were attacked by a bandit and it was fight on; the motorcycle broke and we got stuck in some field. Also, what else...? You raise one small thing and there’s no end to it.”

As if to protest, Violet alleged, “I cannot agree with this. Benedict, the fights that you started one-sidedly are also included.”

“That so? Might be bad for me to get teamed up with you.”

After a short pause, Violet objected again – to the part about teaming up with Benedict being a “bad” thing, “I cannot agree with this either... Indeed, I can assume there is a factor in us that makes it easy to bring about some sort of conflict. However, we were able to deal with them. We, the two of us... can deal with it if something happens again.”

It was difficult to tell what she was thinking, and she might well have been merely protesting against the negative reputation of her own abilities. Still, Benedict somehow heard it as something other than that.

“Heheh,” laughter leaked from him in a natural manner.

Her breath coming out in white puffs behind him, Violet added as if just recalling it, “This applies to times of war and not to times of peace, but... we would have even less enemies if Cattleya were included,” she whispered intermittently and Benedict smiled.

“If that happened, there’d really be no match for us,” he chuckled.

From that point onward, the way to their destination took a couple of hours.

The place that the Auto-Memories Doll and postman from CH Postal Company headed to was Lontano. Small in comparison with the capital Leiden, it was the most prosperous city amongst the neighboring ones. The houses formed circles as if to surround an old castle sitting on top of a slightly elevated hill that extended itself for about a hundred meters, a river with the same name as the country flowing nearby.

Enshrined within a solemn atmosphere, said old castle was a famous attraction of the city. While holding the rights to it themselves, the clan that formerly owned it had handed its management over to the city, and the city allowed people to tour inside of it for cheap admission fees. The old castle had become a grandiose touristic spot, for the one who had built it was a well-known architect.

Places with renowned attractions that had cultural value were easy to turn into the aspired cities of young artists. Not an exception to this, Lontano had art and history museums, theatre venues and a market of ancient books, making the urban area into one where lovers of such things would be unable to help themselves just from strolling through it. Before entering the city gates, one could overhear music as young people played instruments by the road, and walking a little into the city, one would find bookstore after bookstore. The vicinities of statues and fountains were packed with people drawing sketches. It was city of gorgeous structure, yet gloomy and easy to get lost in if one wandered into an alley. Albeit a small ward, there was also a red-light district, which was more popular amongst those who had no interest in arts.

“Now...”

Benedict dropped Violet off at the city’s entrance. She would then rush over to the customer who lived in that city and ghostwrite for them. Benedict himself had several packages to deliver around the city. Once the work there ended, they would return to Leiden, where the submission of reports and delivery of more letters would be waiting for them. That was why Hodgins had ordered the two of them to go to that city. It was more efficient than going through the trouble of having Violet use public transportation, as it there was no fare and took less time.

The current time was right before noon, the tourists gradually forming a lively crowd.

“Where. Should. It. Be?”

Benedict’s sky-blue eyes traveled about in search for a good meeting spot. There was a bank, a bakery, a souvenir store, and a statue of a naked woman carrying a child. The bakery also seemed to have a café, and people could be seen enjoying the apparently warm interior and freshly baked bread from the glass windows.

“It’s settled. V, let’s make the bakery our meeting spot. No matter who arrives first, we wait inside.”

Violet nodded curtly. “You want to eat bread, right?”

“I do. That bakery’s bread is tasty. I never went inside to eat it, though. But it’s delicious enough that making sure to buy something there and bring it over if we have deliveries to do in Lontano is almost common sense among fellow postmen. That one with melted cheese on it... let’s make it a souvenir for Old Man.”

Hearing Benedict talk about purchasing a souvenir, Violet blinked. “I comply. But Benedict, did something happen?” Her reaction all but asked if he had gone crazy.

“You’re being the rudest possible to me with that, y’know?”

“I apologize... Well, did anything happen?” Benedict’s act of buying souvenirs for Hodgins purely out of goodwill seemed unbelievable for Violet. Therefore, she uttered her concern for a malfunction in either his body or mind.

Benedict struck the top of her head with a light knife-hand in an expression of sympathy. “Nothing’s up! You just don’t know it, but I sometimes give the Old Man souvenirs! Even Auto-Memories Dolls buy souvenirs to the agency if they go to some exotic place, right? It’s the same as that. The Old Man treats me to food and stuff before payday too... Like lunch, well, pretty often...”

“President Hodgins tends to give Benedict a special treatment.”

——Don’t wanna hear that from you who he treats like a daughter, Benedict thought.

He spoke while turning to the other side, “Welp, he went as far as taking in an amnesiac like me and giving me a name... He might be special to me, and I to him.”

He accidentally, unintentionally voiced it.

“Is that so?” Violet threw in an interjection quite like normal and Benedict was taken aback.

It was not as if he were hiding the fact he had amnesia or that the name “Benedict” had been given to him by Hodgins, but he had never talked about it to his work colleagues. That was because he had until now no trials of explaining he had amnesia in which he had received a decent response. He would either earn uncalled-for looks or have condolence-like words of pity spat at him. Whichever it was, Benedict was the kind of person who would end up irritated at the other party.

He already had a name and social position. No longer was he the “Blue” who had nothing. He did not want to feel ashamed of back when he had lived by his eye color’s name.

——I wonder...

He was not proud of it either.

——I wonder how she’ll react.

She would certainly not make a big scandal, but would probably say something annoyingly depressing. While embracing uncomfortable feelings, Benedict waited for her response.

However, no matter how long he waited, there was no reaction after that.

Their blue eyes repeatedly exchanged stares. A prolonged silence ensued between them.

Finally, Violet tilted her head slightly as if to ask, “Is something the matter?”

Benedict wound up delving into it without thinking. “Hey, anything to say on me having amnesia?”

Violet’s golden eyelashes batted. “‘Anything’...?”

“There is, right? It’s amnesia we’re talking about. That’s rare, ain’t it?” Saying it himself was somewhat embarrassing and pathetic.

Did that mean she was not too interested in his past? He felt a little let-down.

“That is not true.”

The next words he heard changed his feelings.

“It is indeed uncommon, but in my personal subjectivity, this is not odd.” Violet susurrated with a tone that sounded somehow happy, “I also do not have any memories from before a certain point in time. I did not know how to speak, either. Major bestowed me with the name of a flower goddess. Benedict, what meaning was yours given with?”

——That’s right.

It seemed that Benedict having amnesia was not a big issue for Violet.

——That was it.

The girl so-called Violet Evergarden also used to be not even a person, but a weapon, during the time she had no name. And she spoke of it without any pretension. She did not think of it as a shame.

“This is President Hodgins who we are talking about, so he must have given it with some sort of meaning. The two of us can be said to be very fortunate, right? If I had been used by anyone other than Major, I do not know what would be of me as of now.”

If anything, she thought of it as merely a process for until meeting the person she loved most.

“Oh.”

Violet, who was innocent and indeed lacked something somewhere, felt sorrowful and precious.

“So, what is the meaning of your name?”

“I forgot!”

“Then, let’s ask President Hodgins when we return. I want to know.”

“No, no, no! Don’t ask! Well, I’ll go do the deliveries, so you go to your client too! See ya later!” Benedict mounted the motorcycle once again and waved a hand at Violet.

“Understood. I shall leave the name matter for later as well.”

“You’re stubborn.”

Thus, the two headed to work, each on a different direction.

Benedict’s deliveries did not take too long. One house received a package with an assortment of supplies from a mother living in Leiden to her son working in Lontano. Three buildings received documents exchanged between offices. Five residences received letters. In case of absences, he would have a little bit of work either taking the delivery back with him or asking the person’s neighbors about where they had gone to, yet he finished earlier than he had presumed without the need for such things.

He soon entered the meeting-spot bakery, taking a seat from where he could see the situation outside through the glass and drinking coffee. It seemed Violet’s ghostwriting job would still take some time.

——Guess I’ll pick the souvenir first, then.

He was not able to imagine Violet enjoyably choosing a gift, so picking one by himself was probably more efficient. Thinking so, Benedict selected a few items that he had deemed savory from his own experience eating them. As per a request to the clerk, he had Hodgins’s part of the bread wrapped.

“Is this all?”

Sensing the plainness in color of the goods that he had chosen, Benedict tilted his neck. “Hn~, anything else you recommend?”

“How about a pie or tart? Also, these aren’t bread, but I recommend our cookies as well. There are people who come here just to buy them.”

“Ah~...”

“They’re popular among girls. The ribbons are cute, too.”

One woman surfaced in Benedict’s head.

“I’ve got someone who’d like them, but she’s far away now. All right. Just add this pie.”

In the end, he had an apple pie as addition. He then returned to his seat and calmly savored the coffee.

While observing the packet in which he had requested it to be wrapped, he faintly wondered if the person on the receiving end would be pleased with it. He was soon able to imagine Hodgins smiling broadly and taking into his hands the souvenir offered by his brusque self. He could picture the other being a little surprised, and then slowly breaking into a smile after being told what it was. Even the other saying, “Thanks, Benedict”, and himself turning to the side while replying, “It’s nothing”. He would have also been glad to take money out of his deserted wallet for the cookies if there were anybody to receive them, yet...

——She’s hella far away right now, huh.

The one who came to his mind was a girl of dark hair and purple eyes, Cattleya Baudelaire. Much like Benedict, she has been a colleague from since CH Postal Company’s foundation day. She liked sweets, was bad at dealing with hardships, was a scaredy-cat despite looking daring and fearless, and had a childish side as opposed to her appearance.

——Well, guess she wouldn’t be too happy if she got them from me.

They would quarrel as soon as they saw each other. Enough to turn it into a common occurrence within the CH Postal Company. It was easy to tell just by looking that they did not actually do it due to truly detesting one another, however...

——I wonder if she hates me.

...they could not tell it so easily themselves. Although they were in the same agency, they had different occupations, therefore missed each other often. Theirs was a repetition in which dawn would break after the previous time they had fought, and they would forget that the fight had happened and start another fight yet again. Regardless, they would end up talking to one another on sight, unable to ignore each other, and so he thought of pleasing her with something.

——I don’t hate her, though.

For Benedict, the sense of distance between himself and she, who was worthy of being considered a new breed of human being, was something complicated.

——Things just kinda don’t go well with us. I can’t treat her like other women.

As he had never experienced a proper romance, he had no way of knowing what that meant.

After he reflected on all sorts of things, a big yawn left his mouth. He stretched both arms towards the sky with a jerk and arched his body like a cat. And then relaxed once more. Thinking of taking a break from work had all of his strained feelings and body slackening up.

——I’m getting kinda sleepy.

As he had to work since early in the morning and his daily duties had overlapped, the sense of satisfaction from having a full stomach and the gently warm room caused his eyelids to naturally lower. His body was slowly, slowly stolen by drowsiness and he wound up unable to keep his eyes open. The scent of the shop’s interior was fragrant, people’s conversations sounding fun. The elements composing an atmosphere that could be understood from one’s heart loosened Benedict’s caution.

——Even though... V’s coming...

A golden-haired girl surfaced in Benedict’s head.

——If it’s her, well, guess she’ll soon find me.

The café inside the shop was crowded. Still, he believed that, since it was her, she would come to that place at full speed.

——She’ll... look for me.

After he became amnesic, no matter whom he asked, there was no one who knew him.

——It’s okay if I nap, right?

No one had looked for him.

——It’s okay, right?

However, Violet Evergarden probably would. Thinking so, Benedict closed his eyes. He yawned sudden and widely, falling asleep altogether as if he were dead. Consciousness distant, his line of thought floated into the air. He forgot what he was thinking about midway, invited into the realm of dreams.

Calling them “dreams” might be a faulty form of expression. In his case, they were reproductions of memory fragments that he had ended up shutting down. Once released from the real world, the past would come chasing after him and softly tap on his back.

A film that felt like an old friend returning from far away played in his mind. “Why, welcome back, my mate who no longer remembers his own name,” it said. The film would repeat itself over and over inside Benedict’s head.

His reunion with his friend named past would begin with a night sky.

It was a beautiful nighttime, in which a full moon had appeared. His memory version crawled out of an extremely, extremely dark place, and so he was startled at the bright light of said moon for an instant and shuddered.

There was a sandy beach under his feet. Stomping onto it, his shoes were blemished with mud and bloodstains. The dull ache in his entire body was agonizing. He might have earned himself a serious injury. Nevertheless, his legs moved without him being able to mind the pain.

His hand was holding onto something. Something smooth and small that had body temperature.

He looked back. A little girl came into sight. The girl had blond hair much like Benedict, but of a slightly different shade. Her hair was bundled up in a black velvet ribbon.

As their eyes met, she nodded as if to say, “I’m fine”. After confirming so, Benedict ran faster. He trusted the girl following him.

Eventually, his gaze moved ahead. A single boat was fluctuating on the surface of the sea.

——There, we can escape with that, he thought.

He did not know what they were fleeing from. However, if it was something frightening enough to scare him, whether it was someone horrifyingly strong or a large-numbers-against-small-numbers situation, their circumstances were that they had to run away. But that was not the issue.

Benedict turned around and said, “We’re escaping on that thing,     ”

As if having erased it, he was unable to hear her name.

“     , you’re coming too?”

He also could not hear his own name as spoken by the other.

“That’s right. I won’t abandon you. We’ll end up ————. ‘Cause that’s ————’s way of doing things. Without that drug, you ————.”

The color of her hair, eyes and lips – he could see those splintered things.

“But... But even if you ————, even I stop recognizing you as my little sister, even if you stop recognizing me as your big brother, it’s fine. We’re siblings, after all.”

But he could not see her face.

“Even if we forget, I’m sure we’ll recognize each other on sight.”

He could not tell how her face looked. The hues of her ribbon and orbs were fragmented.

“Isn’t that right? If we’re together, even if we forget, we can remember each other as many times as we need. If you find a man that you like or something, you can forget and throw me away. But until then...”

The shades of her hair, her voice and intonation – he could only tell those kinds of things apart.

“...don’t let go of this hand no matter what. If you do that, we’ll really end up forgetting everything,” the past Benedict said as if making a threat.

“I understand,     .”

The two boarded the boat and started rowing toward the open sea.

At last, things would always end at a point where he was looking up at the boat from the bottom of the ocean. And so, he would think that, aah, they had failed.

His body convulsed with a start. The film reproduced inside his head did not go for more than a few minutes, yet Benedict awoke accompanied by a sense of fatigue, almost as if he had gone on a long journey.

Eyes half-open, he looked about the surroundings. Violet was nowhere to be seen. He checked the shop’s clock. Not even ten minutes had passed since he had begun drinking his coffee.

Poising himself calmly, he took the only slightly cold coffee into his mouth. Upon drinking a mouthful of it, he became unable to settle with just a little and downed it in gulps as if it were water.

“One more,” he asked for another of the same thing, raising his hand to one of the shop’s waiters. He had wanted the bitterness of reality, enough for him not to be invited by sleepiness anymore.

——You’ve seen this so many times, yet you’re still scared of it?

Although he had been thinking until just a moment before that she did not have to come, he now wished to see that blunt girl very much.

——It’s fine.

Not even he knew what was fine exactly, but he told himself so.

——It’s fine.

He needed those words.

——I’m... fine. Ain’t that right?

He himself did not give an answer to the question asked.

Benedict wound up sneering. He did not use to be so agitated even back when he worked as a mercenary for the first time.

He looked around again. Nobody was a target of dread. Nothing was currently happening. It was not as if he were rushing through a battlefield in order to earn money either, nor had he been abandoned in a desert completely naked. He could tell as much even without sorting out the situation. He was blessed now and nothing was terrifying. Things were finally peaceful. Too peaceful.

However, Benedict did not know that, the more peaceful times were, the more often would the pain of the scars marking him end up coming back.

——Ever since he took me in, haven’t I grown weak?

Oddly enough, be it mental or physically, wounds were not curable. Their visible parts would heal. However, even if they healed on the surface, just by the atmosphere and the people and things involved when the injury happened overlapping with one another, the truth that “a wound was earned” would return. The figurative scars would chase after people forever like the Moon floating in the sky. And they would ache.

Even if the injury took but an instant, the truth that one had been wounded was eternal.

——When... will I get to remember everything?

The scar from forgetting the one person that he absolutely should not have forgotten was causing Benedict’s heart to self-mutilate without him realizing. If the replaying of his memories had already happened thousands of times, then for those thousands of times, Benedict had been attacking himself.

Without knowing why he would become so flustered, he reproduced his recollections again. They were a repetition of the previous ones. As seen from the sidelines, things were obvious to those who knew of his circumstances.

A new coffee was brought over, but he did not feel like drinking it in that warm place. It was Benedict who had come up with the arrangement, saying that one should wait for the other inside, yet he had decided to wait in front of the shop mounted on his motorcycle. Breathing in amidst the coldness, he calmed down a little. The perfectly clean, icy air within his body cooled down his head. Even if his body shook, it was because of the chilliness.

Suddenly, Benedict looked straight to the side. It was due to him feeling a stare for some reason.

A short-haired blonde girl was standing there. Hers was an unnatural shade of blond, so it was most likely a wig. She was dressed in a milky white satin dress similar to the tone of her skin under a black trench coat. She seemed like the kind of woman who led a life of having her praises sung by men in that city of artists. With a cigarette between her fingers, she blew tobacco smoke out of her bright red lips. Being in a bar surrounded by men all around and laughing elegantly would suit her. The front of a bakery was not fitting of her...

“Y-You—” the woman mustered out at Benedict, with an aspect that seemed to say she had done so unwittingly. Her voice was husky.

Benedict returned her gaze. The woman gave him an odd feeling of déjà vu. Had they not met somewhere before, his sixth sense whispered.

Subconsciously, his eyes went to her hair. If that sister of his had grown up, was a woman with such appearance too old to be her? Still, women could change the age suggested by their looks however they wanted with make-up and clothes. Benedict knew the morning-to-night faces of the women he had spent time with until now. Should he not discard the possibility that she was his younger sister?

Perhaps because the glint in Benedict’s eyes had sharpened, the woman took a step backward, and then threw the cigarette away, leaving the spot. At first, she walked slowly, gradually going in small trots.

“Hey,” when he realized it, Benedict had hopped off his motorcycle and was calling out to her. “Hey, wait.”

He pursued the woman as she ran, grabbing her arm by force. Not liking it, the woman attempted to shake free from him, but Benedict bound her arms behind her back. As she smelled of sickly sweet perfume, it felt as if he was about to suffocate.

“Let me go!”

“You know me, right?!”

“I don’t!”

“You definitely do, don’t you?! No, I... I...!”

——I feel like I know you.

“You... Are you...”

He might have been jumping to conclusions. He was fine with it being a misunderstanding. However, if that was not the case, then he certainly did not want to lose such information by mistake.

“Are you... my little... sister?”

Upon being asked so, the woman covered her mouth with her two hands.

The way back was extremely quiet on that day.

Having finished the ghostwriting for her client, Violet called over to Benedict, who was exhaling white puffs outside. It took him a few seconds to react back, and his face looked almost as if he had seen a ghost. She noticed he had nothing in hands despite having said that he would buy Hodgins a souvenir, and as they went back into the shop, the clerk was looking after it. As Benedict said nothing, Violet was the one to thank her.

Even as she told him, “Well, then, let us go home,” while mounting on the backseat, he was out of it and did not take off.  And even as the motorcycle finally moved, he stopped driving without as much as one minute passing.

“V, my bad. I’m... feeling awful right now. I might cause an accident and get you hurt.”

Violet did not ask if something had happened. As he was certainly pale-faced, Violet changed seats with a, “Then, I will do the driving”, adapting to the necessities of the moment. She had learned how to ride horses and vehicles to an extent during her soldier days. Even as it had been a while since then, she had confidence that she could do it.

“Benedict. You will fall like this, so please hold tighter.”

“My bad...”

“No, if you feel sick from the swaying, I will stop. Please say it.”

“Aah. My head’s kinda hurting a lot. Can I... close my eyes for a bit?”

“That is all right.”

After saying so, Violet looked up at the sky. As dusk approached, the sky was shrouded in clouds, but it did not seem as if rain, snow or abnormalities in the weather would occur.

It was awfully rare of Benedict to candidly bask on people’s goodwill and apologize. Since he was feeling unwell, it was impressive that he had not yet lost only his judgement of having her replace him as the driver. However, the fact that Benedict, who normally had but a big attitude, stayed silent the whole trip, clung onto a girl younger than him and sat on the backseat would be considered a state of emergency by the staff of the CH Postal Company if they saw him.

Of course, Violet Evergarden also understood that it was an emergency.

Somewhat tired as he might be, drowsy as he might be, that man would never let someone else drive his beloved bike. It was a personal vehicle given to him by Claudia Hodgins when the latter was starting his business.

Violet merely spoke to him dispassionately, “Benedict, were you talking to anyone before I had arrived?”

“Yeah.”

“I have good ears.”

“Yeah, you’re like a wild animal.”

“‘I want to run away from here’. ‘I want you to buy me time’. ‘I want you to help me’ – things like that?”

Rather than being a poor talker, Violet was not as proficient at conversational skills as most people, and so she did not know the right way to speak to him at such a time.

“It’s got nothing to do with you,” Benedict replied coldly in a low voice that sounded as if he were repelling her.

As the talk ended there, a curtain of silence descended upon them once more.

Violet was deep in thought. She almost never put effort into conversations. If she was told not to speak, she would not speak. When asked a question, she would answer. She would inquire what was necessary. That was what conversations used to be about. For her, at least.

However, the grown-up Violet now understood things could not be that way.

She spoke to Benedict again, “That lady called you her brother, Benedict, but you have amnesia, right? Is that person your younger sister? Rather... did you really have a younger sister?”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“I was observing from nearby as you were binding that woman’s arms behind her back. I learned from President Hodgins that no one should intervene on male-female relationships. Therefore, I stood in waiting on the spot and watched over you, so as to mediate if it were necessary.”

“What’s the Old Man doing...? Speaking of that, this kinda thing’s called ‘eavesdropping’.”

“Was that person your younger sister? Your appearances when you were side by side did not strike me as...”

The motorcycle passed over a rock while she was speaking, and so the vehicle’s frame floated buoyantly for an instant. It landed roughly and started running once more.

“She did not seem to be your younger sister to me. This is but my assumption, but I believe she is older than you are. To begin with, you have amnesia, so even if you did have a younger sister living separately from you, is there no need for further investigation since you do not remember her?” Violet was much too indifferent. Without any compassion or curiosity regarding whatever was happening to Benedict, she levelly stated her conclusions. Even if should it rub Benedict’s nerves the wrong way.

“Shut up! You don’t know that! She might be the one!” Benedict hit Violet’s back with his fists. “I have a little sister! I have memories of her! That’s the only thing I’m definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely sure of!”

“How come? You don’t have memories.”

“I can tell!”

“How?”

When asked so, he had no choice but speak sentimentally.

“‘Cause I feel love for her!”

Violet dry-swallowed curtly at the word “love”.

“It stayed in me! Even if I don’t have my memories, I have this!”

It was embarrassing and foolish.

“It’s the only thing that’s definitely, definitely not a lie!”

He normally never spoke of love, yet he desperately resorted to it only for now.

——I mean, we held hands in the darkness. The only proof that we were alive was our body temperature. Whenever she’d say that she was scared, I’d reply with, “It’s all right”. “Your Big Bro will do something about this,” I’d tell her. The one who’d affirmed my existence was my little sister. I’d managed to get courage from the fact that I could be relied on. That, yeah, I was an older brother. That she was no good without me, so I had to keep on living. Still...

“I had a sister, and I don’t really get it, but I was protecting her! I was thinking about protecting her no matter what, no matter what...! I don’t know why I’m living by myself like this...! Memory—I don’t have memory!”

——I don’t remember.

“Protect her from what...?”

——I don’t know. Did someone break me? Did I break on my own?

“I don’t know! Could be anything... That’s—That’s not what’s important to me! I don’t care about how I used to live when I was a brat... I supposedly used to have a sister, and the fact she’s not here is a problem for me! I’m amnesiac, and when I woke up, my sister wasn’t by my side; I’d turned into an idiot who didn’t know anything about myself or my sister! I have nothing! But...!”

——I don’t know. But...

“But, I definitely... have a little sister.”

——She definitely existed. If I meet her someday, I’ll know it’s her for sure. Even if I forgot, even if I can’t remember her, I’ll recognize her if I see her. I want the same to be valid for her.

With that thought, all along, he had lived on as if praying.

“That woman said she knows me... I’ve also—I’ve also seen her before somehow. I don’t know whether she’s my sister or not. But even if she isn’t... when that time comes, I don’t wanna have regrets!”

After saying so, Benedict had his face slammed against Violet’s back. That was because the motorcycle came to a sudden, abrupt stop. Benedict’s nose, neither too high nor too low, was smashed, and he anguished for a brief moment.

Violet, the driver and the cause of his pain, turned backward and reached a hand out to Benedict. Their faces were close enough that her golden hair, burning against the madder red sky, brushed the tip of his nose. Violet gripped Benedict’s shoulder as if to tell him, “Don’t run away”.

“Benedict.”

Her eyes – her blue orbs – pierced him like a blade.

“Please listen. I have told you before that I am also an orphan, was taken in and raised, and do not know who my parents are, right? From my experience, individuals who ‘tend to presume on their memories’ will come in contact with vagabonds attempting to do inexcusable things. Those who invited me into the dark by claiming to know me and proposing to discuss it in detail were neither one nor two people.”

Violet Evergarden desperately trying to convey her own words to the other party was just as unusual as Benedict entrusting his beloved bike to someone.

“During my days as a soldier, Major always bore the full brunt of it and protected me.”

That was precisely why, with her rapid-fire speech, Benedict could not seal her lips using stern persuasion.

“After growing up, I was almost murdered by a cultist organization that claimed I was not a human being but a demigod. I know nothing of my past, so even if I am told such things, I find myself thinking that they might be true. Benedict, are you not the same as me in this aspect? There are probably many women who know you. The women that you have dated, the people you have spent the night with until now – do you recall every one of them? You and President Hodgins are similar. In the past, President Hodgins came to the hospital room where I was hospitalized in a state of having drunk his regrets away and talked torrentially. Have you never done something like this? Even if you leave out the likelihood of being deceived by that person... if you are still thinking about doing something...”

Violet’s words were not gentle in the slightest.

“Benedict.”

However, within her own possibilities, she was thinking, thinking and thinking.

“Benedict, do you need back-up fire?”

Currently, she was attempting to do whatever she could to the maximum degree.

“I do not... know whether or not I am your friend. Lux seems all right with being my friend. Cattleya called me a friend too. Benedict, I do not know about you. We spend a large amount of time together, but even now, I still cannot say for sure what definition I should give to others. To me, the people who have told me that I am their friend are my friends as of late.”

What lay between the two of them was their time spent together. From the moment they had first met until now, they had built a relationship of trust.

“That is why, for me, even if you are not my friend, in case there is anything troubling you...”

Just as the forgotten nurturing between Benedict and his sister, it was something precious.

“No, regardless of what the definition of our relationship is, I... I... if there is something causing you to be like this... and if... it is an enemy that I must fight...”

Even if he did not have a past, Benedict had a present.

“...then I will attack it with everything I have.”

He had an ally named Violet Evergarden.

Under the dusky sky, the still young duo lay themselves bare to each other and made one decision.

“Hoo, hoo, hoo,” the low whispering of birds staged the night as something somewhat eerie.

The evenings at Lontano were like those of night-less cities, in which the lights of bars did not turn off even in the dead of the night. What a place so resplendent needed were attention-grabbing buildings, high-grade alcohol and beautiful women. Until the men went to sleep, the women hired to entertain them could not sleep either.

At present, a lone woman was coming out of a bar that still had its lights on, clad in a black trench coat that could as much as melt into the nightly darkness. She was a captivating blonde beauty.

“Where you going?” asked a man who stood by the entrance of the bar with a fierce look.

The woman showed him an empty box of tobacco that belonged to a regular costumer of the bar. “Cigarettes.”

The women who worked in bars had to report everything they did. Their bodies themselves were the merchandize. Unlike normal goods, bodies could walk on their own will.

Should they disappear somewhere, there would be no business.

“Linda’s store is still open. I was told to go buy more. If you don’t hurry and let me go, you’ll get scolded for stopping me.”

She had intended to speak nonchalantly, yet her frame trembled underneath the trench coat. The man eyed her body from head to toe.

“It’s nighttime. That’s not like the middle of the day. I’ll go. Can’t let you go by yourself.”

“I want to smoke outside for a bit.”

“You, it can’t be that you’re planning to run away again, right? You were almost killed before, weren’t you? If you haven’t learned the hard way after that, you’re an idiot. Until you pay your debts, you’re the same as livestock.”

The woman’s lips trembled at being called “livestock”. “It’s not my debt.”

“It’s your man’s, right? He’s the worst kind of bastard who sells women from a continent he never even walked on.”

“I don’t care about him anymore.”

“Even if he no longer comes to see you, you brought this upon yourself. Got no choice but make up for it. Don’t go thinking of stupid stuff... Hitting women ain’t our thing either.”

The woman thrust the empty tobacco box at him as if to hand it over. “I really was asked to get the cigarettes. If you think it’s a lie, go ask about it inside. If you believe me, you can come along. Then I can breathe the air outside a little, and you don’t have to worry about me running away. We’re settled with that, right?”

The man clicked his tongue at the provocative wording, yet seemed to have complied. He asked another employee to take over his post and made an agreement.

“If you take too long...”

The woman waited stiffly as the men talked. Eventually, the two started walking down the stone-paved road illuminated by streetlights.

The woman observed the man. She was there due to being sold by the person she used to be in love with, but she suspected that the man was also being made to work in that shop because of some reason. She might be wrong.

Even if that were the case, in her present condition, she did not have the compassion of others. If she wanted to break free from her current state, which, as the man said, had unfolded from something that she herself had done...

“It’s cold... Aren’t you chilly?”

...she had to act on her own. Even if she was counting with the assistance of a savior, since she had devised the plan by herself, it was her own power.

The lights of the tobacco store became visible. Just a bit more and they would reach it.

——Please, please, please, help me, God.

“You can smoke one cigarette, but we’re going back as soon as you’re done.”

——Help me, help me, help me!

The reason why the woman firmly squeezed her eyes shut was to deliver her wish to the God that resided somewhere out there, but even if she were not doing so, she surely would have closed her eyes either way.

That was because someone had abruptly come running from an alley and whispered, “Yo, the meeting spot was here, right?”

Since the one who had spoken was of a much shorter stature than the man, the kick lunged at him crushed his nether regions, and so the former immediately put a hand over his mouth. As she recognized the face of the person applying force so that the man would not let out a single scream, the woman said, “P-Please! Stop! He’s not a bad person!”

Until a while before, she had not cared for the other, but upon actually seeing something terrible happen to him, that feeling flew off the nest. Perhaps listening to her plea, the lout who had appeared so suddenly took her hand and vanished into the alley from which he had come.

The golden hair of the man running in front of her shone glisteningly even at night, within an alley that did not have illumination. Unlike her wig, it was a natural sandy-blond.

“B-Big Brother,” the woman called the man going ahead with a tone mixed in rapture.

However, what she received in return was gunfire, “Drop it; that’s gross.” While running, the lout – Benedict Blue – clicked his tongue. As the woman was slow at running, he pulled her forward roughly.

A shoe came off the woman’s foot. It was a high-heel one. She wore it because it made the shape of her legs seem bewitching and pleased men. It was not suited for running.

“My shoe came off!”

“Take off the other!”

Being yelled at, the woman did as told and took off the other pair while crying. They were shoes that gleamed silver of which she was fond. However, at the moment, she did not need beauty. She resumed running with all her might.

“H-Hey. W-Why... are you being so cold? You’re going to help me, right? I’m your sister, after all.”

At the question asked with restraint, Benedict answered with a disappointed voice, “Ah, about that: it was my misunderstanding.”

After taking off her shoe, she was fast at running. The woman increased her speed, as to be side-by-side with the one pulling her arm. “Eh?” Her voice reversed to her original one in lieu of the extreme course of events.

“I kinda thought I’d seen you before... but my colleague told me to trace back the few memories I have of my life, and when I tried doing that, you were there. I did know you. But you ain’t my sister.”

Silence.

“You’re the one who ripped off everything I had on me and threw me away in the Inkar-usi desert, aren’t you?”

Still silence.

“I remember until the point where I slept with a fine woman. I don’t recall her face. But, this... blond hair that looks fake... tangled in my fingers big time when I stroked it; that’s the only thing that stayed in my memory. I was mad drunk, wasn’t I? I’d earned the biggest amount of reward money until then, so I guess I got cocky.”

The woman tried to halt on the spot. However, Benedict forcefully pulled her along.

“Don’t stop! Run!”

“I don’t want to! You’re telling me you’ll make me yours next!? I won’t be anyone’s any longer! I hate men! I don’t want to live through being used by someone anymore! I want to go back to me homeland!”

There were tears surfacing in the woman’s eyes, but Benedict was not the type of man to falter at such a thing. He grabbed the woman’s dress by the collar, and after snapping his head backward at once, he followed the momentum and head-butted her.

The two writhed in pain.

“That’s why I said I’m taking you back! Who needs someone like you, shithead!? It’s not like I’ve forgiven you! If I hadn’t been picked up by one hell of a good guy after that, I would’ve killed you a long time ago!”

“If you’ve found out about my lie, then why...!? I pretended to be your sister and asked you to break me out, y’know!?”

“I just told you, didn’t I!? Thanks to you abandoning me in a desert, I’m the most blessed ever now! If I hadn’t met that guy back there, I wouldn’t even have a name and would be sleeping with women somewhere and waking up completely broke! All because I ended up scoring a fate good enough to rewind my life until that point from a shitty goddess like you! It only so happens that you almost tricked me, but I felt like saving you! Okay?! I hate you, so keep just that in mind! Once I help you out, be careful of the roads at night!”

After spitting out abusive language again with another “shithead”, Benedict made the woman run. The woman could not believe it. Up until now, she had told countless men who had slipped into her body about her personal history and attempted to earn their help. However, she had no one.

“You’ve got a terrible look in your eyes, huh. Mine’s pretty terrible too.”

She had no one.

“I have amnesia. I used to have a little sister... but I can’t remember her.”

She had no one.

“Hey, your hair reminds me of my sister’s; can I stroke it?”

She had no one.

“I’ll raise your pay if you stay until morning, so be here. It’s been a while since the last time I wasn’t alone.”

She had no one, and so, she had thought it would be all right to deceive somebody.

Her tears poured incessantly. They flowed down as if to block her mouth and nose. It was hard to breathe. Even so, she had to say it.

“I’m sorry!” while sobbing, the woman apologized to Benedict.

“Aah!?”

“I’m sorry for lying to you! I’m sorry for those two times!”

“Shut up! I told you I wouldn’t forgive you, didn’t I!? Those two times! I won’t forgive for the rest of my life!”

“But—But, I’m sorry! Sorry for pretending to be your sister!”

In the middle of passing through the alley, they heard gunshots from behind for some reason. The ones who monitored her – a merchandize – had probably come chasing the two. Benedict took a peek backwards, but continued running without minding it.

“They’ve come after us!”

Benedict was already replying to the woman’s shouts with a, “Shut up!” as easily as breathing.

Bullets went past their feet and sides. However, the gunning that was intense at first gradually diminished as the two rushed through the alley. Benedict shot back behind his shoulder as a diversionary action, but did not attempt to hit the other party at all.

Once they reached the end of the alley, Benedict kicked off the half-open lid of a skewer route and opened it fully. “Now, fall!” He kicked the woman into it. He did hear her scream, but having climbed the way up, he was aware that it was not too great a descent. Before going down as well himself, he looked at a certain direction. “V...”

Beyond his gaze was a comrade of his, who had promised to hit his enemies with all of her power as an interceptor.

She was on the top of a tree far away from the current position of Benedict and the woman. Violet Evergarden, who was sniping the group that chased after them, had taken aim upon confirming that gunshots were coming from said group. She targeted the firearm in their hands and pulled the trigger. The perfect trajectory of her bullets passed by Benedict and the woman’s sides, hindering the people that obstructed their way.

Realizing that his own gun had been flicked away by someone, the man who had fired the first shot raised his voice in astonishment, “You’re kidding me, right!?”

While he was in shock, the unseen sniper continued attacking. One of them attempted to target and shoot at the back of the woman, who was falling behind as she ran, but also had his weapon destroyed before he fired, and although he was attacked, he was easily able to defend himself against it.

“Don’t shoot without thinking! We’re under aim!” another yelled, but on such a dark night in an alley like that, the panic of having someone snipe only their weapons so precisely caused the men to lose their normal nature.

“STAY AWAAAAY!”

A legend of the battlefields, unknown to those who lived in cities through making women into food, was making them insane. They blindly faced the sky and shot at random. Bullets came flying to Violet’s direction as well, but did not as much as touch her body.

Guns had something called “effective range distance”. The guns used by the men were not suited for long-range shooting. Things also depended on the skills of the person using it, so differences in distance occurred even with that type of gun.

With a long-range rifle adopted by the military, Violet was taking aim from her position on a tree that the men absolutely could not see. “Target seized... Fire.”

The sounds of shooting echoed.

From far away, she could see someone’s gun falling down from his hand. “Fire, hit.” She moved mute and quickly, as if carrying out a simple job. “Fire, hit, fire.”

It would be fine if her face distorted in pain from the impact of shooting.

“Fire.”

However, Violet’s facial expression bore no emotion.

“Fire.”

Eventually, as everything became quiet, while exhaling a deep breath, Violet ceased to shoot and descended to the root of the tree. It would seem that the long-range shotgun she had bought just recently with her own salary had done a satisfactory work for her.

As she succeeded at the “back-up fire” in the literal sense of the term, she immediately left the spot.

The shooting battle that took place in the city of Lontano over the night turned into a much bigger occurrence than Benedict and the others had imagined, and the situation got to the point of the military police being dispatched. It so happened that people other than the woman behind the scandal had blended with the confusion of the turmoil and fled the city from the shadows, but those were stories unknown to Benedict and Violet.

A few hours had passed since the troublesome escape feat.

“Ouch!”

“Shut up! Hurry and put them on!” In a world wherein flowed the light of dawn, Benedict threw the shoes he had been wearing on the woman’s face.

While muttering complaints about him flinging the shoes at her, the woman tied them on. She had been running around the whole night and shaking off their chasers with Benedict, so her feet were injured and wet with blood. The pain was severe, but the exhilaration of managing to escape allowed her to feel as if it did not matter. Moreover, as she put on Benedict’s shoes, although they were too big, it became easier for her to walk in comparison to when she was not wearing anything on her feet.

Benedict was shoeless instead. He had cut wounds in his entire body. His clothes were ripped everywhere as well.

“Hey, why?”

“Shut up... Don’t ask so many times.”

“But, it’s just... I keep wondering why. Until now, nobody had helped me out, so it’s very strange to me.”

At those words, the face of Claudia Hodgins crossed Benedict’s mind. His good-natured employer and lifesaver. He, too, had bestowed Benedict with clothes and shoes when the latter was naked.

——I also kept asking why, I guess.

People who had never been treated kindly would think of unconditional love as the beginning of something terrifying. They firmly believed that everything others would bring them was either reprimanding or abuse.

“I told you, didn’t I? It’s ‘cause I was picked up by a good guy. That’s why.” A small smile escaped him.

“Benedict.”

His name called from behind, Benedict turned around.

With leaves on her head, their accomplice of the day, Violet Evergarden, was holding out tickets for the first train of the morning, which would now depart. “Also, take this as well.” Together with the ticket, she left in the woman’s hands a bag of freshly baked bread presumably bought in a nearby shop.

The woman eyed the bread and Violet alternately, tears forming in her eyes. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Be careful on your way...”

“You’re the one that had least to do with this... Thank you, really.”

“No. It has to do with me. I was his ‘back-up fire’, after all.”

Hearing that, Benedict laughed loudly. When she had talked about being his back-up fire, the connotation was simply of lending a hand, and he had not thought she would actually put it to practice.

As Violet and Benedict were the only ones who knew the meaning of that, the woman tilted her neck. “Benedict... you too.”

“Use ‘Mister’.”

“Mr. Benedict, you too, thank you very much...!”

“Again, be careful on the roads at night,” Benedict replied with a threat incorporated to it.

The time of depart had still not come. The duo, having decided to leave her there and disperse, finished their farewells with a “see ya” and started walking away.

“H-Hum! Mr. Benedict.” Perhaps still having something to say, once Benedict turned around, the woman was smiling, her blond hair fluttering in the morning wind. “You see, I had an older brother... I haven’t seen him for years now, so I can’t remember him, but when I was a child, I used to call him ‘Big Bro’... I really did have those feelings in mind when I called you that.”

“So what?”

“If I were your little sister, I’d definitely search the whole world for a big brother like you!”

“You ain’t her, though.”

“I’m not! But one day, for sure—!”

One day, you will find her, the woman smiled faintly.

At that moment, Benedict’s sky-blue orbs opened wide. An indescribable, strange feeling rushed throughout his body. If so-called memories were provided to people by traveling across not only their souls but also the particulars of their bodies, and if they could be remembered through a small trigger in case something was forgotten, it might turn out as that sort of feeling, like a tingle from an electric shock.

The woman waved, still smiling. He did not tell her to shut up.

“Stu~pid.” His voice trembled. Turning roundly on his heels, Benedict started walking.

Violet followed him from behind.

——Aah, I…

His vision was shaky.

——Why? Why did I think she was my little sister?

He could now clearly tell. She was not at all like his sister. Firstly, although both were blonde, the shades of their hair were completely different, and although his sister was also fine-looking, she and that woman had different characteristics.

“Benedict?”

Yes, his sister was not such a lustful beauty, but instead had more of a fickle appearance. She had a well-behaved voice tone and demeanor, and was not the kind of person who would refer to others as “you”.

“Benedict, please wait.”

To begin with, she rarely ever called him “Big Bro” and mostly called him by his name. He did not remember that name, but he remembered her calling it.

“Benedict, you will trip if you walk like this.”

——Aah, out of all things... out of all things...

“Benedict, why are you crying?”

Out of all things, he just had to remember his little sister because of a smile from the woman who had knocked him off into hell.

“My, welcome back, my friend who no longer knows his own name.”

——She was a crybaby and a scaredy-cat. She’d always hide behind my back and follow me in trots. I liked the most when she’d come running at my direction after spotting me. That’s why I’d make her look for me on purpose sometimes. The times when we were together were happy, and he rest was hell.

I did have a little sister. She was there all the time. That’s for sure.

In my oldest memory, she was by my side. It was really cold when we woke up. We were in a place that was like a stone tower. She was the closest to me, and was shivering too. The adults hadn’t given us any blankets, so I called her over and the two of us clung to each other. When I asked, “Who are you again?”, her face looked like she was about to cry and she said, “Don’t forget me”.

I was told afterward that she was my little sister, so I thought, “That’s right”. She said I was in a pretty bad condition. That I’d almost died because of a head injury that apparently I myself had earned. That I was quick to want to die when my ego blew off. I’d get disposed of if I went crazy just one more time. That’s why she cried to me, begging me to stay sane.

My sister remembered a lot more than I did. We actually didn’t live in that place and we did have a family. But people would forget things little by little in that place. When I asked if she was certain that I was her older brother, she replied that she was. “You’re forgetting stuff too, right? How do you know?” I asked. When I pressed with a, “That’s right, how can you know?”, she cried even more that, “I have the feeling of love left in me, so we’re family”. She had a weird personality, but after those words, I thought I just had to protect my sister.

The adults called the tower “home”. At “home”, small children were recruited to do adult works. There were all kinds of jobs. Like delivering things, or retrieving them. Jobs in which someone would die when I performed that sorta labor. Those who were good at work were also ordered more direct stuff. It seems I’d gone nuts when they piled up. If you failed your duties, your little brother, little sister, older brother or older sister – the smallest numbers of each of our family members – would get killed. The people that knew and loved us were hostages. Well, that does make people go mad.

“Home” was like a tiny military unit. We always went to different places. From what the adults would say, “home” was a temporary employee placement livelihood. They were preparing human resources able to endure any type of battle mission from scratch. Come to think of it now, they’d give me medicines and incense without a break every day for some reason.

My sister, myself and the others, who were forgetting a lot of things, were apparently human resource pupils. From what my sister told me, in that jumble of children, I was the most apt for those jobs. It seemed I was the one who took the biggest amount of medicine, so my forgetfulness was pretty bad.

Could humans be created from scratch after being made to forget everything? On top of that, could they be raised into the strongest human resources? The answers were “yes” and “no” – you could say both.

We’d end up going crazy at just one cogitation. We were quick to become suicidal. There was no meaning in soldiers who couldn’t be used for long. I was probably insane but pretended to be normal for my sister’s sake.

The adults would say that they’d hire us once we grew up. That, for the moment, we were livestock.

It seemed that the adults monitoring us had lived like us in the past. “Aren’t there only idiots here?” I thought. They hadn’t learned anything even after those horrible things were done to them.

I decided that, if we had to become adults in that hell, we’d better run away. My sister was crying. If we tried to escape, the adults would come to kill us for sure.

The feeling of wanting to die had always been in me. If I was gonna die anyway, I’d wanted to die for my sister. Whoever did something to her that she didn’t want to was shit. I wanted to kill them.

She was the only pretty thing in that pathetic world. I don’t know if she was really my sister. But even if we just happened to have the same hair and eye color, she was my everything. She was the girl I’d wanted to protect the most in the world. Even though she was all I had...

“Your Big Bro will protect you,     , okay?”

Even though she was all I had... I’d surely failed to set my sister free.

Tears poured from Benedict’s eyes.

“Shit…”

The tears that poured from them flowed continuously, eventually penetrating the earth and disappearing without fulfilling any purpose. They would nevermore return. Never would they go back to the eyes that had produced them. Similarly, the important person who had poured out of Benedict’s life would surely not return.

——Life... is shit.

In his memory of taking her by the hand amidst the night, running away and, lastly, watching the boat from the bottom of the sea, if his sister was on that boat, just how would her young self have survived afterward? Had she drifted and been picked up by some kindhearted person? Had his overprescribed sibling survived just fine after forgetting about him and about herself? Was she living well somewhere under that same sky even as they were unable to see each other?

That was but a dream story.

The world seemed filled with happy stories, but they were actually very few. Stories and real life were...

——I didn’t need a life like that.

At the very least, Benedict’s life tasted of the sea. It was too salty and undrinkable. Such was it even now. The tear droplets that spilled down his cheeks, passed by his lips and dripped from his chin had the flavor of the ocean. Benedict’s past was chasing him and strangling his neck, so as to kill him from sadness. He wanted to scream and break into wails, asking, “Why?”.

——End it right now. God, why’re you doing this? End it right now. God, there’s no salvation for me. Please help me. End it right now. God, I can’t breathe because of the pain in my chest brought by this sadness. Hurry, as soon as possible, right now, bring this life…

“Don’t go crazy; don’t die,” she had asked of him.

——...to an end...!

Yet he chose death. After all, surely, his sister had already died long before.

He had always fled from such truth. He had merely forgotten about it. Things such as wishing that he would not die in a desert and thinking about eating bread with someone had stemmed from his made-up other self. He was simply a fake that had pretended to be sane and survived somehow. Even if he was in the past, his original self had yearned to die for a long time. It was false of him to be currently living and showing gratitude to somebody. He certainly had forgotten what should not have been forgotten because it was easier that way.

The painful and the easy. When sorting them out, he had picked the easy. There was no mistaking that he had wanted to try forgetting everything and live freely.

He was cursed for it.

“Was it fun?” If he were asked so, he could answer that it was great fun.

——Yeah, all of it was fun.

In his new life, after meeting that man, the humidity and temperature of the of the continent he was brought to upon being picked up were different, and everything was fresh. The motorcycle that he was granted in place of holding onto a gun or sword had showed him many worlds.

He merely delivered things. He had thought it was only that, but upon seeing it for the first time, being a postman was difficult. Every day, he was at loss from being scolded by the clients or receiving excessive gratitude. It was strange for someone like him, who had never gotten a letter, to be delivering them.

Oddly enough, whenever he saw the smiles of the people on the receiving end, he would feel as if he were doing an extremely good deed. He had found it weird that a postal agency had been chosen for starting a business and was unused to it, but he had come to understand that the reason for being of such job was to perform labor.

It was simply delivery. If one was able to walk or to ride a motorcycle, be it a woman, man, child or elder – anyone could do it. It did not have to be him. It was not a work that only he could do. However, he thought that this mere delivery was not bad. He deemed it as fun. Deliveries in which he was able to please others were enjoyable.

No matter what he did, the sights he would see were unlike the ones from when he was a mercenary. The small discoveries that he would find during a delivery – minor things such as there being a delicious bakery or going faster by taking a certain road – were fun. But more enjoyable than anything else was that he had a place to go back to, no matter to what part of the world he went. Even as he returned in tatters, once he opened the office’s door, there was someone who would say, “Aah, welcome back, Benedict. Good work”.

In the world where he had started walking as if he had suddenly been born, ever since he had met that man, yes, it did seem foolish, but the world had gained colors as though he had met his fated woman.

——It was fun, it was fun, it was fun, it was fun, it was fun. I shouldn’t have enjoyed himself, and yet, I had so much fun. What have you been doing? Why were you enjoying it? You weren’t in position to. You’re a person who should’ve died without knowing what “fun” was. Be over, be over, be over, be over. Everything should come to an end. Let’s end this version of me now. Ain’t that better for everyone? There’d be no harm for anybody if there was one less person like me, with no family or lover, in the world. I’ve had enough fun. As for the people who’ll be sad for me, it’s enough if I can count them with one hand. I’ll erase myself and make this dirty world clean in the end. You shouldn’t be having fun. What you gotta do is just one thing: go face your sister, who’s smiling inside your head.

That was why Benedict impulsively searched for his gun with one of his hands.

Surely, people died that way. Sorrow would seal their throats and they would die unable to breathe. They would die from having more sad moments than happy moments.

He felt that he would not be able to live even if for another second. It was not that he wished to die. Rather, he was taking a decision for himself that he had to die.

Was there any living being that wanted to die as soon as it was born? Most of them supposedly wanted to live. Yes, they wanted to live. Live a wonderful life, if possible. A life that would make being born worthwhile.

However, it by no means went well all the time. Life was not something that one would prepare beforehand.

“Ugh... uuugh...”

As a result of choices made, there were countless changes. There were times in which only grievous things would happen. A series of things such as regretting being born.

Hardships were like gelid rain that God would pour over anyone. It would be great there was a place to take shelter from it or an umbrella, but there were times when one could not find them. The prolonged rain would cause one’s body to grow cold and the roots of their teeth to shake. For people, it was something difficult to endure. When it became impossible to withstand, people...

“Sto... p.”

...would crave death.

“St... o...”

When living became hard, they tended to look for what was easier. It was nothing strange. What was wrong with running away? The least amount of pain was better. The shortest suffering was better.

The purpose of living creatures was something that they decided on themselves.

“Sto... p.”

Still, yes...

“Stop.”

...the same had happened when he was in that desert.

“Stop it; why...?”

A certain number of people, beloved by the Goddess of Fortune, were able to filter out of such instance. If one thoroughly prodded into it, they would find it was but the result of something that had been piling up.

The work of the Goddess happened in a vivid way. If one were to ask what exactly that was...

“V...”

...it would be somebody showing up to hold whoever’s hand when they attempted to die.

At the cliff of his life, the one who had acted as his back-up fire appeared.

What the Goddess brought about was different for each person. For Benedict Blue, in the present moment...

“Benedict.”

...it was Violet Evergarden.

——Why’re you holding my hand, out of all things?

Just as the older brother who had grabbed onto his younger sister’s hand in the darkness, Violet gripped Benedict’s. Upon squeezing it once, she changed her hold into that of lacing fingers together and walked on, guiding him. “Benedict, let’s go home.”

Even though he had been unable to take a single step, he wound up walking.

“That is no good.”

He could not take his gun while she was holding his hand.

“If you are crying, you cannot see what lies ahead.”

Although he wanted to shoot a bullet into his head, he could not.

“I will pull you by the hand, yes?”

Upon being told by that girl, who resembled his sister, to return home…

“Let’s go home.”

...he wound up thinking that, aah, he had to live.

“V...”

The reason why he had not been able to leave her on her own one way or another from the first time he had seen her was that their appearances were similar. Both had golden hair and blue eyes, and were somewhat lonely. He felt as if he had always, always made of her something like a substitute for his sister.

“V... I...”

He was unable to take his eyes off her and even referred to her by a nickname.

“I... probably... killed... my little sister... I’ve remembered it...”

Although he had forgotten his sister, some part of him ended up thinking that, if she were alive, she would have turned out that way. His tears became unstoppable at his own idiocy. He would wonder, “Why did my past self fail if she was so important to me?”

“We abated halfway, and I got separated from her... U-Uugh... It’s... It’s like I killed her...”

Violet clasped his hand even tighter. “You do not know that yet, right?” Rather than like a younger sister, she was like an older one. “Just as that person said, you might meet her again one day,” she whispered as if to admonish him, as if to soothe him.

“Impossible... Impossible... I was definitely the only one... the only one who survived... I... I was...” He shed too many tears, the words cut off by his weeping. It was suffocating. He wanted that suffocation to end.

“Benedict, nothing is definite. My Major was alive too. Who can 'definitely’ say that your sister is dead?”

The hand that she had joined fingers with throbbed. However, were it not for that pain, it felt as if he would soon let go and kill himself.

“But... But y'know...”

“We have dealt with quite a lot today. We can deal with it from now on too. Is that not right?”

“I was... I was... better off dead...!”

Crying that way, just like a child, was foolish, Benedict thought. There was no turning back anything anymore.

“I was better off dead!”

Even if he cried, he had already lost her. He had no idea where in the world to look for her either. Should joined hands let go, if the other party was not nearby, they could not be joined again.

“Benedict.”

Violet’s legs stopped completely. Did the crying Benedict look like a little boy to her? She came closer, forcing his head over her shoulder. “Let’s go back, Benedict.”

“Where to?”

“To the company. You and I only have that place.”

Silence.

Indeed, they did not have anywhere else. The people who would wait for them and hold their ground without going insane were indeed nowhere but there.

——But is it okay for me to go back?

“I’ve... done horrible things in the past. It’s just nobody knows that I... when I was mercenary...”

“Yes.”

“I did a lot of stupid stuff. It’s not forgivable just ‘cause I was a kid.”

“Yes.”

“I... But...”

The face of Claudia Hodgins crossed his mind.

——I shouldn’t... go back.

The sense of exhilaration as he walked for the first time with the loose-fitting shoes that man gave him. The jokes the other would tell while spewing complaints when hanging out with him. The laughter from when they would drink and make a ruckus together.

——But...

His eyebrows lowering whenever he was troubled. His back arching whenever Lux was angry with him. The sweet voice he used only for women. The strength he showed to him. He was the only good-natured person in the world that could become attached to an amnesiac man who had nothing.

——I do wanna go back.

He wanted to return to that good-natured person so, so keenly that it filled him with tears.

“But even so, you will live, right?”

Benedict dry-swallowed. Those words almost felt like a bullet shot into his chest. He was so surprised that he became wordless. She was normally a taciturn and did not use decorated words. But she would sometimes boldly bring the truth to light.

“You will live, right?” A little bit of pleading was mixed in Violet’s voice.

The hand that Violet had joined with his. Her artificial fingers.

“Let’s count the things you have done and the things you will do from now on, so that you shall not forget.”

They were proof of the things she had lost and the things she had broken. As well as a symbol of regeneration. Such fingers delicately laced him in place.

“Until you die someday.”

The girl in front of him had accepted that agony much sooner than he had, without running away or averting her eyes from it, and simply stayed amidst the sadness.

“Today... For today, let’s go home.”

That was Violet Evergarden.

“Now, let’s walk. Do you recall that our shift was only until morning and that our day off would start at noon?” Gradually, but still by pulling his hand, she guided Benedict. “Yesterday, we wound up going back to Lontano without finishing our reports. We had promised Lux that we would submit them today without fail. We are too tattered to go to work looking like nothing happened. Surely, if we show up to work like this, there might be a huge scandal, right?”

As Benedict was told so, they surfaced in his head – his quarreling comrade from the founding day, Cattleya; Lux, who had been picked up from an isolated island; their colleagues from CH Postal Company; the city of Leidenschaftlich; his own past; his current occupation; his new name and the man who had given it to him.

“I wonder if Old Man will be mad...”

Claudia Hodgins. The man who gave him everything he had now. He wanted to see the other very much. As he reminisced to the other’s voice and face, his chest seemed about to burst.

In Benedict’s life, his past included, Hodgins had been the only adult to provide for and protect him.

“You were able to meet President Hodgins because you were alive. You can find your sister as well. Surely... People like us are no good if we do not believe so, Benedict.”

He had enough strength to live by himself, no matter where.

“Today was very tiring, right? Let’s go home.”

However, the warmth of having a guardian changed Benedict, who used to loathe ties of obligation. The CH Postal Company, which Violet said to go back to, had already become his place of return.

Benedict looked at the sky. The Sun was rising. Behind him, the shadow that the night had melted into was now reflected richly. The road ahead was brightly illuminated. Just like the past and the present.

“Hey, V.” As Violet asked what the matter was, he muttered while wiping his tears with the sleeve of his shirt, “The thing about me crying is a secret between us two.”

The figures of the two as they walked on holding hands probably looked like that of siblings who got along well.

   “Right now, your life is all you have, isn’t it? I’ll buy that.”

At those words, the man’s heart started making loud noises. He was supposedly used to exchanging his life for money, but he seemed about to stop breathing at being asked for it face-to-face.

“How much?”

Upon being asked, the man was at loss. “Dunno.”

As he answered seriously, Hodgins laughed, “What a fool; give a high price.”

“Why?”

“You could give a sum that I can’t pay for, so that I’d have to hire you for the rest of my life.”

For an instant, he had not understood what was said, and so he answered after a moment, “Don’t wanna! Whatcha saying!?”

“I mean, you have nothing, right?”

“Don’t keep saying 'nothing’!”

“We’d be like a family if we’re together, even if we aren’t related by blood. Just give a price that I can’t pay.”

“Hah?”

“Like I said, we could be like a family. Well, that’s fine. More importantly, your name.”

“No, no, hey, you’re definitely a weirdo, right?”

“It’s come to me!”

“Old Man! It’s like you’re not listening to what I say, ain’t it!?”

“All right. Listen ve~ry well.”

“You listen well!”

With an extremely happy-looking face and little shyly, Hodgins said, “It might be a bit pretentious. I understand his feelings now. Ah, no, y’see, it’s my own feelings, so to say. I’m putting into it my wish of wanting a young one like you to be this way.”

At that second, the only one in the world who witnessed the shine in those blue eyes was Claudia Hodgins.

“It means ‘blessed’; how about ‘Benedict’?”

He knew for the first time the joy of having his life blessed by someone at that moment.

“Let’s take it after the god that administers divine protection. Leave ‘Blue’ to be your surname. The name you gave yourself plus my ‘Benedict’. ‘Benedict Blue’. Yup, it’s a good name. Nice to meet ya, Benedict.”

Even as he became hurt when replaying his memories, he would be blessed whenever someone called his name.

“Stu~pid.”

 He did not want to let go of that blessing ever again.

“Aah, Benedict and Little Violet. Welcome ba... Hey, this isn’t okay! What happened...!? You two come here! Little Lux, the first-aid kit!”

Albeit a little long, that was the story of Benedict Blue.