#but i have been challenging myself with them

[reasonsforhope]

What good things did you do this past week? 2/3/25

Like I said before, bringing this back from a while ago as a way to make/motivate myself do good/activist work to spite these shitty times. And because at least some other people seemed to like it when I was doing them!

It was so great to read all the responses to this the other week! Idk if I responded to any of them, bc things have been A Lot, but I do read all of them and smile!

Good things I did this past week:

Honestly a lot less than I meant to? I'm having a lot of Feelings about the intersection of disability and trying to be an activist rn, as someone whose disabilities often make it harder to attend irl things

But like this blog as a whole, we're focusing on the positives, so:

Continued relearning Spanish, so I can speak it in general and also be a better activist/better able to educate myself/volunteer with Spanish-speaking communities

Tried to go to a radical sewing/mending group, but showed up to find out it was canceled! :'( Next time!

Talked to my roommates about getting a compost bin, started looking into pet-proof bins

Taught a couple kids at work some stuff about sleep disorders, because one of them said he really related to what I was saying about mine

Talked to one of my coworkers about potentially unionizing our workplace (she was receptive! this would be a huge challenge but I wanna try)

Joined in solidarity a group effort with some of my coworkers to get our work to stop fucking with their hours

Ongoing: Kept this blog running!

...That's actually more than I thought it was, which is nice to realize. Still missed my goal of trying to go to at least one activist event or protest a week, but hey, it's a new week already

What about you guys? What good stuff have you done? :D

[organic-bloodbath]

hello! could I request literally anything w chishiya x pregnant!reader? maybe how he (and the rest of the group) would take care of reader during and in between games? thank you sm!

Child of Hearts

Chishiya x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: Chishiya takes care of you after you two have been separated from the rest of your friends.

A/N: Please request me more Chishiya i need this man so bad. I hope this is alright 🫶🏻 (mind you, i have never been pregnant myself so i might not know what the hell i'm talking about)

♤♡♧◇

Running away from a man shooting every person in sight with a huge rifle was a big challenge when you were 7 months pregnant. You didn't know what the gun was called, but when the bullet hit its target, it would basically cut your body in half. Hiding behind a car would be useless, as the car would be in pieces as well.

Running fast enough was already difficult, almost impossible, but your heavy stomach, bearing another human being, was making it a lot harder. It didn't take long to be out of breath and your legs were going to betray you any moment. Chishiya's hand was pulling you forward and you could barely keep up. He would soon have to drag your body against the ground, and then you'd both be dead.

This was it. You had played several games, somehow been able to beat them all with the help of your friends, which was a miracle itself. Especially without Arisu, Usagi, Kuina and Chishiya you would have died ages ago.

Before your pregnancy, you had been quite a fast runner and could run fast for a long period of time. Now? The total opposite.

Finally, you could sit down on the ground, leaning against a car. You had to only hope that the shooter had passed you and wasn't going to blow it up.

"You doing okay?" Chishiya looked at you with concern when you closed your eyes and threw your head back, breathing loudly.

"Yeah, yeah, i'm fine," you nodded, barely being able to talk. "Just can't run anymore."

Seeing a massive airship floating in the sky almost right above you, a large playing card hanging from it, you finally came into a conclusion what was going on.

"Well, he must be the King of Spades," Chishiya said next to you, leaning against the car.

Absolutely amazing - now the entire Tokyo was a game arena?

The shooting had stopped for a moment, but the shooter – or more specifically the King, should you call him – could come out from any corner at any second, surprising you completely.

Ann arrived with a car, telling all of you to hop in. However, Chishiya was left behind, because of a grenade that had been thrown between him and the car.

As were you with him.

♤♡♧◇

The others were gone now, driven away with the car. You and Chishiya were left alone to find a way to survive on your own. You were relieved to have Chishiya with you, he was extremely smart and knew how to survive different situations.

Previously many of your teammates had helped you, but now it was just the two of you. For a second you were slightly afraid that taking care of you alone would become too much to Chishiya if the King of Spades found you out of all people and started chasing you. You could tell that running with you was challenging to him.

You were starving, not remembering when was the last time you got proper food, and eventually found a small grocery store which windows had been shattered.

Chishiya started browsing for food while you waited, leaning against the counter. Soon, he came back with the most suitable and edible food he could find in this situation.

"Cash or credit?"

"Aren't you a little too pregnant to be working?"

"Don't underestimate me, Doctor Shuntaro," you teased him.

You pretended to scan each item like you had worked here for years.

"Thank you for shopping with us, please come again," you said with your best customer service voice.

"You definitely deserve the best worker of the month award," he praised you, almost impressed, and clapped his hands a few times.

"Finally someone gives my work credit," you said, hand on your chest.

There was a small table and two chairs by the window. You and Chishiya dragged them away from the window, so you could sit down in the back of the room and not be seen to anyone possibly walking past the store.

"Here you go," Chishiya said and offered you food and a plastic fork, along with a bottle of water, as you sat down. "It's not much but it's the best i got now without any electricity to heat it up."

"Thank you," you said quietly.

You ate in comfortable silence. You hadn't realized how dizzy you had started to feel after all the running and having not eaten or drank water in hours.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright?" Chishiya asked when he was finished with his meal and put his hand gently on yours, looking concerned.

"Yeah, i'm fine," you mumbled and stretched a little. "My back just hurts."

"Let's take a break and lay down for a while, okay?"

"But shouldn't we stay on the move? The King of Spades might come back and-"

"We'll be safe enough here for a while. Take a short nap, i'll keep an eye on the surroundings," he insisted. "You need more rest than me."

You were sleepy, so you weren't going to resist too much. You hadn't slept properly in a while.

Chishiya watched you sleep on your left side, your head on his lap to use as a pillow. You clinged on his leg with both of your arms, and he gently brushed your hair with his fingers to soothe you to sleep.

You were so beautiful, and he knew that he didn't say it to you often enough - as often as you would have deserved.

Chishiya was terrified every second of being in this world, having to play the games with you on his side. He wasn't afraid of many things, but you? If he lost you, he'd also lose your baby. His unborn child. And that was easily his biggest fear.

You had been in a relationship together for the past three years, and the pregnancy hadn't been planned, at all. Chishiya wasn't sure if he would ever want children, and when you told him that you were pregnant, he didn't know what to think. But it didn't take him too long to get used to the idea of becoming a father. And having you as the mother was everything he could have wished for.

You, however, hadn't considered becoming a mother at this age and had cried in the bathroom for an hour after seeing the two lines on the pregnancy test. Now, as the months had passed, you had gotten used to the idea of having a child and were more ready with Chishiya's constant support, who you loved and trusted with all your heart.

You just had to finish the rest of the games and hopefully, you could then return home - before you'd start delivering the baby.

♤♡♧◇

You entered a new game with Chishiya inside an old prison.

Jack of Hearts - Solitary confinement.

This was absolutely the ideal game for you, since all you could do was just chill and sit around until it was time to go into your little prison cell to announce the correct symbol on the back of your collar. And for that, you had Chishiya revealing it for you. As long as Chishiya was there for you, you had nothing to worry about.

People formed groups, telling each other everyone's symbols, so other people could confirm they were telling the truth.

"Hi," a girl in a blue dress greeted with an eager smile, approaching you. "Want to join our group?"

You glanced at Chishiya, unsure, but nodded your head.

"Sure, why not," you shrugged. Mom always told you to try and be more social.

Slowly, as the rounds went by, people started to lie and betray each other, which ended up more and more people being eliminated. This was a Heart's game, after all, it was supposed to mess with both your head and heart.

"Listen, let me worry about the game, you just remember your symbol and rest, okay?" Chishiya had said earlier, giving your hand a squeeze.

Chishiya had been eyeing the other people and trying to study any hints that could lead him to reveal someone as the Jack of Hearts. He hadn't told you much about his thoughts, probably still trying to decide his opinions on the players.

Right now, you sat at the table, looking towards the group which was sharing their symbols with each other. It was like watching a high school drama all over again, except now people were getting killed.

"Here," Chishiya said, sitting next you, and laid food on the table in front of you. "You need to eat."

He had grabbed two different kinds of crackers, a bottle of water, some orange juice, and a can of soup.

"I just did, i'm fine," you tried to refuse, even though you knew you could have eaten a little bit more. Chishiya just stared at you with no expression on his face.

"Yes, but you need to eat more, since you're eating for two," he insisted and wasn't having a 'no' for an answer.

You rolled your eyes, and he noticed it, giving you a look.

"Fine, fine, Doctor Shuntaro," you smirked.

After you had finished eating, you went to the bathroom again - you were sure you'd have to pee every hour. Washing your hands and your face, you heard someone arriving to the bathroom.

"Hello," a young girl greeted you nervously, taking careful steps towards you. "Sorry to bother you, but could you tell me the symbol on my collar? I don't really trust my group anymore and, well, you seem nice."

"Um, sure," you mumbled and looked at the girl's symbol. "It's a diamond."

"You sure?"

"I have fully functional eyes."

"Thank you so much," the girl said, giving you an excited smile.

You didn't bother to include yourself in that drama club and lie for no proper reason, you had decided to keep your distance to them since you didn't need help with your symbol. You doubted any of them would be the Jack, but who knew - the Jack could be a girl too, after all. If they started manipulating and lying to each other, that was on them.

A few more rounds passed, and you were starting to become really sleepy. By now you had been at the prison for 8 hours and you had no idea how much longer all this would take. Chishiya had been feeding you crackers and other snacks almost every hour, now that you had food available a lot easier.

You wondered if your friends were alright, though you knew all of them were strong and if they had survived this far, they must be able to handle anything. Still, of course you couldn't help but to worry.

You walked around the place and tried to search for a corner to take a quick nap, there was 36 minutes left until you had to go back to your cell.

Then, you had to stop walking when you felt sudden pain and pressure on your stomach. You let out a loud gasp, startling any few people nearby and make them look at you. You leaned against the nearest wall, so you wouldn't fall on the floor.

No, no, no, no. You weren't going to start delivering your baby a month or two early. Especially in the middle of the game where there was a time limit and a chance to be killed. Of course they wouldn't stop the game for a moment if there was a woman on labour.

Chishiya had heard you and instantly ran towards you. His eyes widened when you were holding your stomach in pain.

"Y/N? What's happening?" Chishiya asked, trying to hide his panic so you wouldn't start to freak out even more.

"I-I don't know," you mumbled and truly started to panic. "It just hurts. I don't know. Oh my god, Chishiya, I-"

"Okay, calm down. You're having contractions, it doesn't necessarily mean the baby's coming, okay?" he tried to reassure you, his hand on your cheek. "Look at me. Just breathe, take a deep breath."

You did as he told, taking deep breaths and squeezing Chishiya's hand every time the waves of pain took hold of your stomach. If this hurt, you didn't want to know how much it hurt to push the baby out of you - your pain tolerance was extremely poor.

"I can't do this, any of this, i'm-"

"Yes, you can, darling," Chishiya said softly.

After some time, it stopped. You sat on the floor, back against the wall, for the next twenty minutes, Chishiya holding your hand the entire time and gently rubbing your back.

"See? Everything's fine," he said calmly and put his arm around you, keeping you close against him.

"You know," you started, eyes starting to water. "I haven't felt any movements from the baby in a few days. What if something's wrong?"

"Listen," Chishiya said. "Contractions are normal, even when the baby won't come yet. The baby might not move every day, it's normal. You'll just have to stay calm and try to avoid too much stress. And i know that's a lot to ask for in our current situation."

You nodded, unsure, but trying to believe his words as well as possible. He was a doctor after all, right?

"Next round, we'll get you a place to sleep for a moment," Chishiya promised. There was 9 minutes left to announce your symbols.

"You know, when the baby will be born, we'll have a lot more different story on how the pregnancy went than other expecting mothers," you chuckled. "Like, not many moms can say that they've run away from a shooter while being on their third trimester of their pregnancy."

Chishiya smiled. "Or spent a day in a prison with no actual guards around."

An older man walked past you, still sitting on the floor, leaning against Chishiya.

"My God. Are you okay? How on earth have you survived this far being pregnant like that?" he asked in shock, surely seen the scene just a moment ago.

"Well, i've had a lot of help," you shrugged.

You had been used to people commenting on your pregnancy. Every time you met someone knew, they just stared at your stomach for too long, feeling bad for you and considering you the weakest player of the group. You stood out from the rest of the people around, it was understandable. At first it had bothered you, but now you were so tired of it you just felt numb.

Arriving to the Beach for the first time, the entire pool party had quieted down for a moment when people saw you.

"Here, it is required to only wear a swimsuit," they had announced, but looking at you, they let you wear more clothes. Thank god for that. You weren't exactly very fond of showing off your stretch marks and everything. You had been given shorts and an oversized t-shirt - it was the same shirt you still had on.

In the end of the current game, only four people came out from the cells alive, after the Jack had guessed the wrong symbol, and left the prison, two of them you and Chishiya. It had been the first game where you could have actually relaxed and sat back for a while.

If there had been a proper bed, you wouldn't have minded to stay a bit longer too.

"So, what now?" you asked.

"We'll try to find a place to spend the night."

It was becoming the night and you had been walking almost half an hour on the streets, trying to find a good place to hide and sleep.

You found a small hostel, completely abandoned and empty, and found your way into one of the rooms. The door was locked, but Chishiya could easily pick the lock open. You were able to sleep on a real bed again, you could have started crying from even the thought of it. The sheets weren't fresh at all and the blanket was really thin, but you couldn't complain.

You laid yourself on the bed, it felt so good to feel an actual mattress and a pillow under you, you felt like your body could melt there like a cotton candy in water. Chishiya came to lay down next to you after removing his shirt, warming you better with his bare skin. He cupped your cheek and pulled you in a sweet kiss.

Suddenly, you winced when you felt a kick inside your stomach. Chishiya immediately sat up, concerned.

"What's wrong? Did the contractions start again?"

You grabbed his hand and put it on your stomach, trying the correct spot to find any movements, and when he felt a kick right against his hand, he flinched and a smile spread on his lips.

You started laughing, with a few tears of relief and happiness, and he laughed a little too.

"We'll be alright," Chishiya whispered. He hugged you and kissed your forehead.

"I hope so," you said quietly.

"I love you," he whispered and looked you deep into your eyes. "You know that, right?"

"Are you saying that in case the King of Spades comes to shoot us in our sleep?" you teased. "Honestly, that would definitely be cheating."

"I doubt he's going to find us here," he assured you and pressed a kiss on your hair. "Good night."

"Good night," you answered and turned on your side. Chishiya's arm wrapped around your stomach, pulling you against his chest.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Time to bloom

Written for round one of the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Spring and Mutual Pining

Rated: T

Words: 2,348 [also on AO3]

Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy; Alternate Universe - Soulmates; Half-elf Eddie; Bard Eddie; Paladin Steve; Mutual pining; Getting together; First kiss; Fluff; Idiots in love

Notes: Today's challenge over at @st-loveconfessions was to write a ficlet inspired by an artwork, and I immediately thought of this beautiful fanart by @starthecozy. I know you like my fantasy AUs, so I hope that this one will make bring a smile to your face! ❤️💐

“So, what's the plan?” 

Steve looks up from the ale he's been sipping for the past hour or so to find Robin walking into the tavern. As she slides onto the barstool next to his, her eyes flick from his face to the colorful bouquet of spring flowers sitting next to his glass. 

“Are you actually going to go out there and give them to him? Or are you gonna let them wilt again?” 

“Shut up,” Steve grumbles. He knows she won't, and she knows he knows it, but she also knows it's not really her he's annoyed with. “I'm getting to it. I'm having a drink before I go, that's all.” 

She gives him a look. 

“Dingus,” she says. “For the past week and a half, you've picked a fresh bouquet every day, and then you keep finding excuses as to why you can't go and give it to him. Your rooms are starting to look like a flower shop and I think Mrs Henderson's sheep and Hopper’s horse have been conspiring to murder you for stealing their food. And quite frankly, if I need to keep watching the two of you dance around each other for a little longer, I might join them.” 

Steve chews on his bottom lip while she snatches his glass and drains it in three long gulps. 

“This is fucking embarrassing, huh?” he mutters. “I'm a damn paladin for heaven's sake. I've slain monsters and fought dark wizards and saved the realm from darkness, and here I am, unable to bring myself to tell that stupid, pretty, loud-mouthed bard I lo- … ugh.” 

He trails off, propping his elbows up on the bar and hiding his head in his hands. 

“I can't even say it in here. I'm so pathetic.” 

A hand grabs his right wrist, gently prying his hand from his face. 

“There's nothing pathetic about being scared.” Her finger traces the outline of the bird-shaped mark on his wrist, and instantly, he can feel himself growing more calm. “For the record, though, I don't think that you have any reason to be. He's as gone for you as you are for him.” 

Steve scoffs weakly. “Yeah, I doubt that. I'm not even his soulmate, so-” 

“You don't know that,” she says. “It's not unheard of for people to have two, or more even. It's entirely possible that you are and your marks just haven't manifested yet.” 

Steve gives her a look. “We've fought side by side. He saved my life on at least three different occasions, and I his. I think we'd know by now if- hey, what the hell?” 

“Not all soul bonds are forged in the fires of battle like ours.” She lowers the hand she just flicked his forehead with, picking up the bouquet and pressing it into his hands. “Sometimes, they need time to bloom. Now go to him.” 

*

He doesn't need to search long. The melody floating over the hill behind the tavern tells him exactly where he needs to go. 

Eddie is sitting cross-legged in the crisp spring grass, plucking away on his lute and singing softly in his mother's tongue. His hair is down, dark curls moving softly in the warm breeze, revealing the tips of his pointed ears every now and then. Steve stands transfixed and watches him, thinking back on how closed-off and guarded Eddie was when they first met. How he used to hide his ears under cowls and hats, always scared to reveal his heritage. How far they've come since then. It makes a familiar, fuzzy warmth spread behind his collarbone. 

And that's when Eddie looks up and sees him standing on top of the hill.

“Well, look who it is,” he greets, face splitting into that wide, toothy grin that makes Steve’s hand clench tighter around the bouquet and sends his stomach into weird little somersaults. “Haven’t seen you around in days. What earns me the pleasure of your presence?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Steve grumbles, forcing his wobbly legs to walk closer. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy, he says.” Eddie rolls his pretty eyes, putting the lute aside and gesturing for Steve to join him in the grass. His voice still has the soft, melodic lilt to it that’s always more pronounced when he’s just switched out of the elven language. Steve thinks he could listen to it for hours and not get tired of it. “The sun is bright and warm in the sky, the birds are singing, and spring is in the air, but his Lordship is busy. Why must you humans always be so dreadfully serious?”

Steve rolls his eyes, plopping down into the pleasantly cool grass. “Well, we can’t all laze around and make music all day. Someone has to make sure the place is running smoothly. And besides, you’re half human as well.” 

“And on days as beautiful as this, I like to not think of it,” Eddie winks. “But thank you for reminding me.”

They sit in silence for a while, the sounds of the village wafting all around them. Eddie is right, Steve thinks. It is a beautiful day. The last chill of winter is fully and truly gone, and the air smells of life and new beginnings. The kind of day he hoped to see again, back in the dark days when all seemed lost and it looked like all of their fighting had been in vain.

“It was nice, by the way,” he finally says. Eddie stirs, gaze shifting from the rolling clouds in the bright blue sky to his face. “The song.”

“Nice, huh?” Eddie huffs softly. “What high praise coming from you.”

“I’m making you a compliment here, you dickhead,” Steve groans, secretly thinking how the song wasn’t just nice, but beautiful. Beautiful as the day all around them and beautiful as the singer. “Take it or leave it.”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, loud and unrestrained. It makes the dimples at the corner of his mouth appear, the ones that Steve wants to trace with his fingers. When he calms down, there’s a faint pink blush blooming on the bridge of his nose.

“Thank you. I’ve been working on it for a while.”

Steve perks up. “Huh? You wrote it yourself? What’s it about?”

“It’s, um- …” Eddie hesitates, suddenly absurdly interested in plucking at the young blades of grass. “It’s about love. How allowing yourself to be loved is the scariest thing, because it means giving yourself to the other person fully, without hiding anything or holding anything back. But how it’s also unavoidable, if you find the person your heart longs for.”

“That’s-” Steve says. Swallows. Wets his lips with his tongue before he tries again. “That sounds wonderful. You’ll need to translate it for me some time.” 

Eddie’s eyes flick up, locking on his, and he feels himself blush - a hot, tingling heat that creeps out from under his collar and all the way up to his cheeks. 

“I mean … only if you want to, of course. I’d never-”

“I’d love that,” Eddie smiles. “I’ll translate all the words in the song for you, a hundred times over if you want me to. Under one condition.”

“Huh?” Steve says, feeling his blush darken as he watches that smile grow more coy. “What condition?” 

“I want you to finally grow a pair and hand over those flowers.”

Steve sputters. Eddie laughs and pats him on the back as he tries to catch his breath. 

“Damn,” Steve murmurs, once he’s regained the ability to speak. His face must be shining like a beacon by now. “”Was I that obvious?” 

“Subtlety has never been your strength, big boy,” Eddie laments. “You’ve been moping around like a lovesick idiot for weeks. The entire village must’ve caught on by now. So, as your friend, I must insist you spare all of us further embarrassment and just confess your love to whatever fair maiden has caught your eye. I promise there’s nothing to be afraid of, she’d be a fool to- … what?”

Steve has whipped up his head and is gawking at him, eyes huge and incredulous.

“Maiden?” he croaks. Eddie scrunches his nose in confusion. It makes his entire face crinkle adorably, and Steve can feel a treacherous bout of laughter tingling in the warm, fluttery space behind his collarbone. “What maiden? There’s no maiden, you idiot.”

“A strapping young lad then.” Eddie waves a hand in the air between them. He’s trying to go for nonchalant, but there’s a distinctly annoyed undercurrent to his voice. “This isn’t the time to get hung up on technicalities, Stevie. I’m trying to tell you something important here. If you want to be with that person, you need to overcome your fears and take matters into your own hands, because nobody is gonna do it for you.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Apparently not.”

And then he kisses him. 

He might not be Eddie’s soulmate, but he won’t sit by and listen to him hark this nonsense about Steve running off with someone else. Not when Eddie’s laugh and Eddie’s voice and Eddie’s eyes have been all he’s been thinking of for months. 

Eddie makes a confused sound against his lips, arms flailing in surprise, and for a second or two, Steve is convinced he’s gonna push him back and demand to know what the hell he is doing. Then, he melts into Steve’s touch. His lips part ever so slightly, a shuddery sigh tickling Steve’s face, and his hands come to rest on Steve’s arms - lightly, hesitantly, like he isn’t sure this is really happening. Like he cannot believe he’s allowed to have this. It’s all the encouragement Steve needs to deepen the kiss. 

Eddie’s lips are every bit as soft as they look, the little noises he makes even sweeter than he imagined in his wildest dreams, and immediately, he finds himself wondering why he didn’t do this a lot sooner. By the time they pull apart, one of his hands has found its way to Eddie’s face, gently cupping his cheek, fingers slipping into his dark curls.

Eddie stares at him, lips pink and slightly parted, eyes round and large with surprise, and this time, Steve can’t contain the fond laugh that bubbles from his throat. 

“It’s you, you moron,” he says, because he has a feeling that Eddie needs it spelled out for him in order to believe it. “It has always been you. Since the day we met, I think.”

“But-” Eddie stutters. Trails off. His lips move silently, even though no words come out and Steve thinks with a victorious little swoop of his stomach that he has finally found a way to render him speechless. “But why?”

“Because,” says Steve, tracing the shell of one pointed ear with his finger. “You are kind and brave and funny and strong and one of the most amazing persons I’ve ever met and I’ve been trying to tell you this for weeks.”

He notices a little belatedly that his right hand is still clutching the bouquet of flowers, and with a sheepish little smile, he nudges them in Eddie’s direction. 

“These are for you, by the way. Will you accept them?”

“I will,” Eddie’s hands are warm as they close around his, that smile still soft and brimming with hesitant joy. “And, um … I also wouldn’t say no to another kiss?”

Steve is only too happy to indulge him. 

This time, Eddie is more bold, not leaving him the lead but deepening the kiss on his own accord, tongue poking out to tease lightly at Steve’s lips. Steve sighs and grants him access- 

-and that’s when it happens. 

It starts as a barely-there tickle in his left wrist, and at first, he thinks that it's Eddie’s hair tickling his skin. It's only when the feeling intensifies, spreading into his arm and all the way up to his shoulder and chest as a fuzzy, tingling warmth that he realizes it’s something else. He gasps and pulls back, heart kickstarting in his ribcage, head spinning with surprised exhilaration, because he recognizes this sensation. He has felt it before.

“Stevie?” Eddie asks, voice shaky with confusion, and Steve knows he can feel it, too. “What’s going- what is that?”

He is staring at something on Steve’s wrist, eyes huge and watery. Steve doesn’t need to look to know it will be there, but he does anyway. He wants to know what it looks like. 

It’s two music notes, delicate and entwined like dancers, in the exact same spot as Robin’s mark on his other wrist. They’re still pale, only just having appeared, but darkening even as he watches. 

“But how-” Eddie whispers, reaching out shaking fingers to trace the mark. “There’s no way- … What does that mean?”

Steve’s face is hurting from the force of his own grin. 

“It means,” he says, gently disentangling one of Eddie’s hands from the bouquet so that he can lift it between them and reveal the sword and shield blooming on Eddie’s wrist. “That I was an idiot. And also that we’re soulmates.”

He ducks his head to brush his lips against the mark, and the touch is like electricity crackling through his veins, is like the heady rush of a good wine in his blood. Eddie laughs, a shaky and surprised thing, and Steve knows he feels it, too. 

“Robin is gonna be insufferable about it,” Steve mutters. “She’s been bugging me to finally confess to you for forever, can you imagine her smug face when she sees these?”

Eddie frowns down at the marks. When he looks up at Steve, his dark eyes are glinting.

“I dunno, they still look a bit pale to me. Maybe we should wait for them to come in properly before we tell her. If only there was something we could do to speed up the process …”

Turns out Robin was right, Steve thinks as they tumble down into the soft grass together, exchanging whispered confessions of love between more laughter and kisses. 

Sometimes, love needs time to bloom. 

More Steddie Bingo

[artsninspo]

003 | Richmond Inc.

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

「 ✦ aaron pierre & characters library ✦ 」

⇚ 002

♠ summary: The forced proximity of a Swiss work trip makes Lorence's attempts at evading Mr. Richmond more challenging. Their already tense dynamic becomes all the more challenging when she finds out when he thinks of her terms and requests.

♠ pairing: Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre - Rebel Ridge) X Lorence Cole (Black Fem OC)

♠ word-count: ~2.7K

⌖ - St. Moritz, Switzerland

I check my watch noting my pulse is exactly where I need it to be. I can feel the blood rushing through my limbs as I dismount from my inversion looking at brave skiers taking on the slopes. I remove my mouth tape and take a deep breath. An integral of this position is being remarkable while not standing out too much physically. I need endurance and strength without looking like I train for a few hours a day in the gym. Morning yoga is my personal maintenance. I look out ahead and breathe deeply while admiring the serenity of the Swiss Alps. I could get used to this. I think to myself revelling in the privilege of the experience. Continuing my deep breathing I click off the noise cancellation on my headphones allowing the world back in and hear running. Frowning, I turn and find the Boss on the treadmill running with a large barbell over his shoulders evenly weighted with large black disks on either side. What the hell!? I think looking away before stealing a glance at him barrelling through his run in the mirror. He moves effortlessly with the deathtrap hitched on his shoulders like he’s carrying five pound dumbbells and not over a hundred pounds while running moderately. Of his own free will!

Maniac, I mutter snapping out of my thoughts. I manage to gather my things quickly, tossing them into my bag before disinfecting the mat I used. The cadence of his steps changes as he slows maintaining a slower speed and I wonder how he hast stopped yet. This tortuous exercise would have already murdered me. I feel self conscious in an instant when I remember my hair is in heat less rollers under a satin scarf and curse myself for leaving my room in this presentation.  Mr. Richmond provides a notable monthly stipend towards the maintenance and upkeep of his employees. My current appearance is a huge faux pas. Appearance is everything. Not in a homogenous and boring kind of way, but in an eclectic way we've got something for everyone, kind of way. I hardly look my part right now, I have never been in the presence of the boss without a face on. A bare face isn't something I’d usually be self-conscious about but around Mr. Perfect; I am.

The running stops and I’ve missed my window to leave without an interaction. He slows to a stop before putting down the weight. He’s barely sweating and not nearly exasperated enough to be fully human.

“Good morning” he calls over to me, his baritone reverberating through the empty gym.

“Good morning” I respond hoping he hasn’t put his contacts in since he isn’t wearing glasses but it’s a foolhardy wish for a man as prepared as him. My phone rings and I smile when I see my father has saved me from the beast.

“Hey Daddy” I smile, picking up. 

“Hi my love, I was just heading to bed I hoped you’d be up on time” Dad says.

“I am, thanks. I just finished yoga” I explain using the opportunity to get my bag on and slip out from under the Bosses nose. 

“What’s it like?” Dad asks and I wish he could see it for himself.

“Cold and gorgeous I’ll take lots of pictures when I get a chance.” I smile.

“Remember to take some time to see it, really see it and bring home fondue and chocolate for your mother and I” he adds.

“Chocolate, cheese and wine - got it. Mom won’t let me forget it. I’ll be through with her list” I tell him.

“Atta girl, well I’ll let you get ready. Call me if you need anything” daddy says as I pass the Boss.

“I will, thanks dad - see you soon” I tell him. He sends a kiss through the phone and I do the same making it out of the gym without having to make small talk with Mr. Richmond. Joel’s been on assignment and I haven’t heard a thing about my conditions. I move through the building heading back to my room to find the bed maid. I have a shower and spend more time than I should watching people ski down the mountain while doing my make up for the day. I spray perfume and then get dressed before packing a bag in case of any surprises. When I leave, people have already started breakfast. A chef is at work and names set out on serving cloches. I find mine and see a perfect breakfast respecting my dietary restrictions.

“Thank you chef” I smile, thanking the chef and he nods smiling back. I find a seat at the table in my own world as everyone partakes in conversation. I’m not a morning person and if I want my breakfast to settle I can’t be aggravated or anxious. The room is buzzing with good energy overall, everyone is excited to be in attendance. I’m anxious. Although I have no responsibilities this go round I like being in a conference room surrounded by computers being fed intel and finding a way through as opposed to being on the ground. We leave in groups, staggering our arrival times. Joel appears just as I’m about to get into my black truck. He smiles getting in with me.

“How are you?” You ask, getting on your seatbelt.

“This’ll take some adjusting to the timezone change & climate. I just finished a job in Australia - it’s summer there” he smiles.

“You know flying so much isn’t good for you.” I tell him.

“I know, I’m being rotated out for the next six months unless it’s eminent” Joel responds.

It’s great news. “I bet your kids will be happy”

“Not my wife though,” he mutters.

“I’m sure living with a hyper-vigilant, ex special forces nut isn’t easy” I tease and he chuckles.

“You’re supposed to be on my side” Joel remarks.

I give him a curt look. “I am on your side. You can’t do this forever. All your awards and accolades mean nothing without your family ensuring they’re celebrated and live on” I remind him.

Joel beams bright, “I forgot how much I missed you” he laughs, shaking his head dismissively at my sentimentality. I snap a few pictures of the mountains in genuine awe of their magnitude.

“This is the job, seeing the best the world has to offer” Joel says beside me.

“I know” I nod.

“The Boss didn’t agree,” Joel says, drawing my attention back to him. “Actually, he was pissed,” Joel says, shocking me. I give him a moment to tell me it's all a joke and when he doesnt my heart starts to race.

“Great” I sigh sarcastically.

“Offered you a $850k and an increased therapy stipend. You have until the end of the week to decide if the response is no, HR will terminate your employment.” Joel says looking guilty. Now, I’m really in shark infested waters.

“Joel!” I snap looking him over.

“Joel what, it’s practically a million dollars!” he shouts like he isn’t the one who secured my spot on the Bosses shit list.

“To be ripped into and harassed. You know he’s gonna make every penny worth his while” I snap. 

“You run things by me and I’ll do my best to catch any infractions. He really isn’t as bad as you think.” Joel says and I sigh near tears. I’m going to be out of a job. I think to myself with closed eyes. Maybe if I can manage it for a year then I can quit a million dollars richer? Maybe I can train for the verbal berating? My thoughts run wild and I take deep breaths.

“I’m sorry” Joel says finally. I open my eyes before cutting them over to him. “I’ll be home so I’ll have all the time in the world to be on call” he reminds.

“Whatever” I snap folding my arms. “I’m still not convinced,” I confess.

“It’s more money than the average person makes in their lifetime in a year. Think of all the good you can do with it. Think of all the potential investors and philanthropists you can meet?” Joel starts and his training is showing. He’s appealing to the things I value most.

The car stops and he gets the door. I put my game face on exiting behind him. We blend in with the understated upper echelon. In the field, what Richmond inc. is second to none, I spot my colleagues discreetly blending in amongst the crowd. Unlike the serious and burly security guards that are easy targets we blend in. Offering safety in numbers as well as increased observation. For the more curious attendees at these kinds of things our menial titles make us all the more visible. Consultants and special advisors are of little importance in most cases as they are far from where the money resides.

Joel and I separate as he schmoozes. His cover is that he’s an elite protection dog breeder. As a senior agent and not executive I don’t have that kind of story but no one pries when I tell them I’m his assistant. I’m a woman so it’s believable. I look the part and a few of them look at me like I’m a meal. It’s nothing I’m not used to in a sea of powerful men. They flirt and I giggle but that’s all it’ll ever be. I know better and this group works hard and plays harder. Not to kink shame but the shit they’re into turns my stomach. There are few novelties when you have as much money as they do. I tread lightly and make my rounds schmoozing and farming potential clients away from other security firms who are too busy eye fucking me to realize I may be why they’re out a job. When the keynote begins the rotunda leans out. The centre’s workers have their way with the decadent charcuterie boards and excess wine while myself and a few of my colleagues file out into our waiting cars.

They go skiing once we get back but I get out my notebook weighing my options with Mr Richmond’s counter offer heavy on my mind. The blank page stares back at me as I make the pros and cons list. I decide to try my hand at positivity first. The pay, the travel, the potential to meet incredible people. I pause from writing and look up at the ceiling to think. The amenities, the accommodations, the new experiences. I continue with my list until I begin to draw blanks. Are they really even pros when I currently make more than I need not by a longshot and can afford to put myself in the position to enjoy everything listed? I groan, tearing the page and tossing it into the modern black stoned fireplace. I know the cons intimately. Chronic stress from existing under a microscope, anxiety that would snowball into a skewed self-perception about my value and what I deserve. Verbal tirades that would also be intimidating and dramatic because of how big the brute is. Turning my head I watch the paper burn and try to find alternatives. Perhaps exposure therapy? Only being tougher and having thicker skin is not something I aspire to at this time in my life. I’ve faced about fear to tack on another one for the sake of greed and prestige.

Disappointed greenish blue-grey eyes find me in my thoughts where they are unwelcome. It would be easier if he wasn't so damn handsome, then everyone would hate him and we wouldn't have to pretend he’s this pleasant person to be around. Maybe then, he’d be nicer too - or just normal instead of so abrasive. 

What if I just ignore what Joel told me and continue in my current position? But that would only work until the Bosses patience runs out. All I’d need to do is stand my ground. I have half a decade of nearly perfect reviews to make being fired an unjust and unlawful termination. Unfortunately, being in a litigious battle with Mr. Richmond is a terrifying idea. 

I decide to stop worrying and make the most of the present. I put on my base layer before my thermals and a snowsuit for my solo adventure up and down the slopes. I make sure I have everything before heading out of my room with a slightly awkward waddle. Smiling, I take a photo for my girls back home. My hair is braided and put away under a fleece hat to keep it from freezing. The elevator dings and I walk in before looking up. Big mistake. Just the man I want to avoid is the one standing in there with me.

“Lobby?” he asks and I nod swallowing my smile. I see the lobby button is already illuminated.

“Sir” I force a polite smile.

“Miss Cole” he nods back. It’s the first time I’ve regretted our penthouse accommodations. It's a long way down. 

“Is Mr. Jameson back yet?” The Boss asks, referring to Joel.

“I believe he’s still at the convention,” I respond.

“Have you two had a chance to speak yet?” Mr. Richmond pries.

“About?” I ask as the elevator doors reopen.

“Well hello handsome” she says in full winter gear. Her husband shakes his head completely ignoring his wifes antics. Well, I assume he’s her husband. “Ooo wee, Earl don’t you think one of the girls would love him”  she says, elbowing her husband who is clearly ready to be outside. But Earl chuffs committed to not looking up at Mr. Richmond and it amuses me - Earl and I are on the same page.

“Cheryl quit” he says instead with a thick southern american accent.

I stifle a giggle and he looks up at me with an annoyed smirk. He makes a talking gesture with his hand before pointing to his wife, who is still admiring Mr. Richmond. He motions that his Wife's talking too much like a kid sneakingly mocking their teacher in class.

“Forty five years and she’s always got new material” he whispers, reminding me of my own parents. THeir irritation with each other is always second to their love.

“I bet that keeps things interesting” I respond and his eyes light.

“You bet,” he laughs, highly amused.

“Now Earl, nothing she says could be that funny” she chides him as the elevator sounds and the doors open. Earl throws his hands up in defeat heading out first and Cheyl gives Mr. Richmond a wave. I use the confusion to my advantage putting on my gloves and heading to the chalet where snowboards can be rented. The Boss will have to schedule a meeting with me where I can be prepared. This ordeal is hardly an ad hoc conversation. I live below my means and take care of my people so the money doesn’t seduce me. I like nice things but I have more of them than I have time for right now. The money I have been squirrelling away was for travel with my family. My priority is to smell the roses with the people I love. 

I’m modest with my ascend up the slopes and do a moderate slope instead of going all the way up the mountain. I snowboard down a few times before taking my daddy’s advice. I FaceTime him while enjoying swiss fondue. Momma makes sure I write down everything for her gastronomy blog and I take lots of photos. I return to the hotel with a box of goodies and the doorman rushes to help me with it. The common area has a sprinkle of people. We talk about the convention and the weather before turning in.

My nightly routine is still in place. Before winding down completely I do a final once over of my emails and make sure all is going well with my team while I am away. I’m about to close out of my emails when one comes in from the Boss. I swallow hard looking at the encrypted email and slam my laptop shut. I try decompressing by brushing my team only to check my work phone and see I have a 9:00 a.m meeting with the man himself tomorrow morning.

FUCK!

authors note: thanks for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this part, let me know what your favorite part was in the comments. Don't forget to like, comment, reblog and vote on the polls 🖤

engage with the game & poll here

taglist deets & FAQ's here - ✮ join taglist ✮

tags: @meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells @ffenthusiastt @sowhatariyana @1xtral1983 @theegoddessofmelanin @fictionalreads @roxytheimmortal @fairytale07 @rampsen @rosey1981 @lauraaan182 @lynaye1993 @g1g1l @writingsbytee @different-fandomz @rose-bliss @loveschrisbrown20 @cherrybeedotcom @ariiaellbtheedonn @motheroffae @prettylilteine @thabiddie23

[laurentidal]

Catch

Easy prey for me, I'll admit. I enjoy a challenge more often than not, but I'm not so egotistical as to say I'll never eat low hanging fruit.

Lily struck me right away. Tattoos from neck to toe and dripping in Pokemon memorabilia. She was a sight. Not usually my type, to be sure. But the tits under that Squirtle. They were not to be ignored.

I introduced myself as the owner of the shop she'd wandered into. It wasn't legally true, but thanks to a little lady who was currently helplessly finger fucking herself in the back office, it would be by this time tomorrow.

She nodded politely to me and continued browsing. I followed behind a few paces. I didn't want to scare her off, thought I think that even the brief encounter would have been enough for her to stay nearby. I have a… way with people. They're drawn to me and naturally inclined to do as I ask. With a bit of concentration and the right prompting, I can get people to do almost anything.

"Which is your favorite?" I asked gesturing to her shirt as I pretended to cross her path again.

She looked down at her chest, breasts stretching the fabric wonderfully, and for a moment I thought she might have answered "left" or "right."

"Smeargol," she answered simply, and upon seeing my curious expression happily elaborated. "He's a painter."

"Ah so it's art-related. Makes sense with the tattoos. Mine is probably Hypno."

"Interesting choice," she said, taking a drink.

"I've always been obsessed with the mind. It's an incredible thing. It creates whole worlds for us to live in." I could feel her getting more and more comfortable with me. In a short time, she now considered us close friends.

"Yeah that's true. I like how something like a dumb cartoon can explore topics without getting boring."

"Pokemon has a lot of strange themes. One that always struck me was the relationship between trainer and pokemon. Are they friends? Pets? Slaves?"

She took a long pull from her drink as she thought about that.

"l mean you wouldn't make a pet fight someone else's pet. They seem a lot like slaves to me. Slaves that do whatever their owner wants."

Her lack of a bra was beginning to show more obviously as we spoke and she fell more and more into my field of influence.

"But," she stammered, "they can disobey if they aren't friends with their owners."

"Or if their owners are weak," I agreed. "But they often don't get a say on who their owner is. He just swoops in one day and uses his balls to trap them."

At the word balls, she audibly sighed, though I don't think she even noticed she'd done it.

"Are we friends?" I asked.

"Sure," she agreed a little too quickly.

"And I'm strong. I've steered this whole conversation. Leading you along on each point."

She nodded.

"And I've swooped in out of the blue and am trying to claim you. Are you going to let me? Or…,"

I pointed at her shirt again, "are you just a little wild pokemon who doesn't have a choice?"

"No choice," she whispered as she stared into my eyes.

"Now why don't you come into the back office and I can show you the thing that all captured pokemon need. And you can see the other specimen I've caught today. I think you're going to get along nicely."

She simply nodded, eyes lowering to look at the bulge in my jeans. Too easy.

Thanks for reading! If you are a fan of my work, consider buying me a coffee. Any contribution is insanely appreciated. 💖

[roseganymede95]

WIP Word Train! (Again!)

Rules: tagger gives a word, then for each letter of that word you share a sentence/excerpt from your wips that start with that letter.

Tagged by @fairandfatalasfair, the word is SCARY

These are all from the post-canon fic because that's basically all I've been working on lately.

S - “She apparently knows where the office is,” Charles says. He pulls Edwin into the sitting area and points him at the largest bookshelf. “So we’re packing our shit and getting away from the office until we know more. Go on, grab the books you want to have with us.” 

C - Christ alive, has he been like this the whole time? Now that he’s aware of it, hardly a single conversation goes by when he doesn’t catch himself chucking flattery and winks and innocent insinuations at Edwin.

A - At first, it was just nice. Having Crystal around made Charles feel alive, almost. Like a real sixteen-year-old with a future, rather than a bundle of decades-old bones buried in a church yard.

R - “Right, so, ever since I met Gertie I’ve been coming back to keep up ties with the neighborhood cats once or twice a year,” Charles explains. “And I obviously talk about you when I come by, because what else am I gonna talk about? So I’ve been bragging about you since before this lot’s parents were born. You’re kind of a legend around here. Can’t blame them for being excited to meet you.”

Y - “You don’t understand,” says Crystal despairingly. “He’s a good person. He deserves nice things. If I were a good person, I would want nice things for him. But I’m an awful person, so instead I just want to hog him all to myself forever, even though I won’t actually date him.”

Thanks for tagging me! I now summon @williamvapespeare and @tumblerislovetumblerislife and challenge them with the word CRIME.

(Also if you fine folks ask nicely I'll tell you the title of the new fic!)

[puppiesareperfect]

I love Jesper Fahey when it comes to ADHD representation because despite the fact he struggles with things like impulsivity, restlessness, and slight disorganization he is also shown to be—undoubtedly—clever, talented, and witty. It’s also clear that he can focus and take in detail, but that it often comes out in noticing others (ie Inej and Wylan). His use of his grisha abilities is also really fascinating through the lense of ADHD: it’s not something he practices at or even consciously uses, and yet he still mostly succeeds in it when it comes to his shooting abilities. It’s not perfect and this way of using them probably isn’t sustainable in the long run—but there’s no doubt it’s been useful. To me this feels a lot like how many people with ADHD (myself included) have had periods of time where we’re able to get away with not studying for tests because we’ll still do well. And it works—for a while. Until you come to something more challenging. Everything about the way his disability is written feels realistic and balanced. He’s not a stereotype but he also isn’t a character who just has the label of neurodivergent slapped on as a quirky trait without ever exploring it. The way Bardugo him is genuinely special to me for all of this.

[staticscreenwriting]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When he steps into the kitchen, Joel understands. 

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

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

“Joel, you’re back!” 

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

“Yeah, I’m back. 

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

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

“Did you get hurt?” 

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

“Good. It went good.” 

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

“Did you bring us something? “ 

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

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

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

“Geez, you guys are demanding.” 

“Well — did you bring us something?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.” 

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

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

“ Nah. No issues.” 

“Good.” 

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

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

“It smells great.” 

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

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

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

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

“Thanks.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you ever been to Paris?” 

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

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

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

“Joel, have you?” 

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

“I uh — no. Never.” 

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

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

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

“Sounds like she was a smart cookie.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Do what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I wore it anyway.” 

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

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

You wear the scarf anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dear Joel,

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

I wish you’d let yourself see it. 

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

Here’s looking at you kid! ;) “

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

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

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

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

“Postcard.” 

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

“Yeah, how do you know about that?” 

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

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

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

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

“Unfortunately.” 

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

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

“Who’s it from?” 

“None of your business.” 

“Oh, so (Y/N).” 

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

“What makes you think that?” 

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

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

“You! Old and scared!” 

“I’m not scared!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another run. Another record. 

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

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

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

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

“Did you wanna knock or — ?” 

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

“Uh, yes.” 

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

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

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

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

“ I did.” 

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

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

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

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

“Sure.” 

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

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

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

“I said I love you, that's forever

And this I promise from the heart, mmm

I couldn't love you any better

I love you just the way you are, right”

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

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

But words fail him. They always do. 

So he just nods.

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

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

“You’re not.” 

Wow, so eloquent. 

“I’m not?” 

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

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

“Then can I — can I do this?” 

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

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

All he does is stare and pull away.

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

“I uh — oh I’m sorry Joel.”

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

“It’s not you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not grumpy” 

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

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

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

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

“Sooo are you gonna open it?”

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

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

“Why?” 

“Cause it’s none of your business.” 

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

“Jesus, Ellie. Language!" 

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

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

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

“Why do you think I did something?” 

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

They are also absolutely right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God only knows - The Beach Boys - Pet Sounds

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

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

In Your Eyes - Peter Gabriel - So

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

Your Song - Elton John - Elton John

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

Wonderful Tonight - Eric Clapton - Slowhand

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

Just The Way You Are - Billy Joel - The Stranger

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

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

But maybe it’s not a curse. 

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

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

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

“Joel?” 

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

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

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

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

“I love you!” 

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

“Huh?” 

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

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

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

“Joel Miller?”

“Yeah?” 

“Please just fucking kiss me.” 

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

This one is different, as cheesy as it sounds.

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

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

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

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

[eliwatchesf1alot]

CARBONO

aaaaaaaaaaaaa alex albon x carlos sainz THEYRE GONNA BE SO GOOD TOGETHER

i cannot wait for all the pr challenges and stuff they have to do together i just cannot

CARBONO THE NAME HAS BEEN DECIDED

it is such an unexpected duo tbh but now i can see myself loving them actually

to the point of carlando/landoscar level obsession but maybe its just me

[nelliebachesneg]

Jason X Jazz

This entire post is me screaming into the void because I'm writing a fic and I'm having a lot of emotions about it. You have been warned.

I am currently processing some things through the characters of Jason Todd and Jasmine Fenton, and I need to talk about their characters before I break down completely.

Jazz is easy for me to write. Jazz is an Enneagram 5, which I'm pretty sure is my type as well. Jazz ignores her emotions - or at least refuses to identify them - in favor of logic. Truth is ultimately what matters to her. She hoards information in her attempts to find the truth, and no amount of information will be enough until she finds a satisfactory answer.

I see a lot of myself in Jazz.

Mostly good things - and in fact that's the problem. I have a hard time seeing Jazz's flaws as flaws. The orginal show calls her out for being a know-it-all, and a teenager who thinks she's an adult, but as I write this I realize that I never saw that as something that had to be fixed - or at least, not as something that had to be fixed by Jazz herself.

Because of course Jazz felt like she had to be an adult. Her parents were caught up in their own lives, to the point where they left their science experiments on the kitchen table with toddlers running around. Of course when Danny started acting differently, and her parents didn't notice, she blamed it on their inattention. And of course it was specifically Danny's need for attention that mattered; she's got her intellect to carry her through life's challenges, after all. She's the one with perfect test scores, the one who applies herself, the one who understands the importance of a life apart from ghost hunting.

Oh, she's aware of her own need for attention, of course. She'd have to be a fool not to realize that, sometimes, she gets envious of ghosts for how much her parents seem to be obsessed with them. (She's have to be a fool not to realize that, magic or no magic, she shouldn't have fallen so fast for Johnny.) But she can handle it. She can think her way through it. Danny can't; all he has are his…

Friends.

Who are Jazz's friends?

Who does she talk to besides her brother, her parents, and the occasional teacher or classmate for academic purposes?

Where does she vent all that emotional energy besides the occasional concert?

This is where I see Jazz's flaws and mine overlap. This is also something I feel comfortable writing about, because it's something that I have talked about in therapy ad nauseum. I know the answer here is quite literally to lean on the relationships you do have, and if that's not enough, to find new relationships. It takes work and more than a bit of luck, but it is possible for Jazz (and me) to break out of this idea that she always needs to be rational about everything, including herself. I think that's what the show was going for, actually - but equating emotional expression with childishness is… wrong, I think. It reeks of underlying toxic masculinity if nothing else, and considering what I've heard about Butch Hartman, that's not off-base.

And then there's Jason.

Jason fucking Todd.

Who like no other character I have ever seen in fiction, fanfiction, and all the headcanons in between, embodies the Bible verse of Romans 7:19-20:

"For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it."

Jason is an Enneagram 8. Jason, whether he realizes it or not, is obsessed with control. He wants the world to be good, to be just, and he will go to dramatic lengths to make it so - not unlike Bruce. At the same time, though, he has internalized the belief that he himself is not a good person. He's a just person, maybe - and I would even venture kind - but as much as he tries to do what he thinks is right, Jason Todd does not think of himself as good during or after UtRH. He's sacrificed his sense of empathy, after all, and that made him "the bad one" who "needs to be stopped". (Makes sense, since he's the one that was never good enough anyway.)

So is it any wonder that he struggles to believe in forgiveness? Is it any wonder that he won't allow himself to accept love when it is offered? He doesn't think he deserves it. He thinks that people who have done worse than him deserve it even less. And maybe if he can take them out, in a twisted way it'll make him better. Maybe if he can rid the world of a few monsters, it'll make him less of one.

Jason at his worst is all of my self-loathing, all of my catastrophic thinking, all of my self-delusion, and all of my fear. I've connected his struggle to accept love to my own struggles with sexual content. I've said it before elsewhere, but I think I need to say it again: radical forgiveness and love are the only way forward. The catch is that, by necessity, those things require connections with other people.

And what writing Jason in my fic is asking me to do is to imagine the people I care most about in this world discovering the worst part of me - and forgiving me for it. Helping me with it. Only for them to ultimately fail to fix me, thus making me desperate enough to turn to a stranger who may screw me over worse than anyone ever has.

Suddenly I feel like we've been down this road before.

And while I know that Jazz is someone Jason can trust, Jason doesn't know that, and it's difficult to picture - well, no, actually, it's not hard to picture Jason, after being caught in a moment of Pit Rage, to tell the worst to Jazz in an effort to scare her off. And it's not hard to picture Jazz rationalizing that behavior, and even seeing honor in the honesty of it. It's not hard to picture Jason being confused and suspicious, forced to confront his own assumptions about what's possible and what he deserves out of that possibility. It's not hard to picture Jazz having empathy for those who suddenly receive more than they think they are owed. It's not hard to imagine Jason bargaining with himself, desperate for something to work but also ready to bail at the first sign of betrayal.

Holy shit, it's easy to see how he slowly comes to accept her help with his Pit Madness. It's easy to see how after he feels like he's back in control of himself, he'd start falling in love with this girl who sees the best in him.

And the kicker is, she doesn't even see what she's done as special; she just didn't want him to feel alone. She didn't want him to feel trapped in his own head.

She's not expecting those sentiments to be returned.

She's not expecting Jason to like it when she loses her temper. She's not expecting him to treat her with respect when it comes to her hobbies, the same she gives him. She's not expecting him to want to be around her, to seek her out when he's feeling any type of way; for her to seek him out and have him be willing to listen when she wants to vent. She's not expecting the committment, the quiet support, the feeling that for once she can lean on someone else and just be herself.

Is it because he feels like he owes her? Is it because she has something he wants? Is he trying to manipulate her? There has to be a rational explanation-

Oh.

Oh.

…Well there's certainly nothing rational about it, that's for damn sure. What do you mean, Jason, you think I'm passionate and smart? Even if that's true- Well of course I'm protective of children and the disadvantaged, who isn't? And what do you mean it's a relief that I don't just know about the vigilante life, I understand the vigilante life? What do you mean it blows your mind that the killing- Well, it doesn't not bother me- But yeah it's not the end of the world. What do you mean you're thankful that I've made Crime Alley my home and you'll be here for me as long as I want you to be?

What do you mean you love me?

Do I love you too? Of course I-

Of course I do.

Because of course she does. Of course she admires his honesty, even if it makes him sound like an asshole sometimes. Of course she could spend hours figuring out his quirks, religiously studying what makes him smile and how far she can push his buttons before they're chasing each other across rooftops. Of course she lights up every time he comes over, every time he so much as texts her. Of course she's noticed that he's been able to get her to tap into her emotions in a way she's never before felt safe enough to.

Of course she loves him.

And of course he loves her.

They've made each other feel alive (again).

[satorururu]

𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭?

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩 𝐨𝐧𝐞 // 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲?

-a story in which gojo fakes his death and creates his own bakery where he can forget about all the sorcery and start a brand new life where he seemingly meets his childhood friend again? what will he do and what challenges will he face? find out by reading this!

- a gojo x reader story

( fluff and a touch of angst )

gojos pov:

Im disgusted in myself.

I faked my death to have a peaceful life while my students fight on my behalf.

No no it should be fine.

..this is a story about gojo where he fakes his death to live a peaceful life, then you come back in his life, you who is a childhood friend that he left behind when he faked his death.

5 years.

it’s been 5 years since I faked my death and I don’t know how I feel about it, my students are fine after the fight and believe that I’m dead right now. I wonder how they like their new teacher.. shoko said she’s pretty .. her name reminds me of somebody.. I don’t know it’s been some time, I should forget about it

I decided to go to a park near jujutsu high because it reminds me of those times.. I don’t know it’s pretty late I should head home.

while gojo was walking back he sees a group of 3, he thought ‘ is that megumi and the rest? what are they doing here this time of night..?’ after he saw them he went home and decided he can’t just stay home and sulk for the rest of his life but he needs to start something? a hobby? so he starts baking sweets because he loves it and decides to make a bakery!

— 2 weeks later —

gojo started making his very own bakery and he finished it.. it was called BREADY OR NOT.

[solrookera]

Wolf Teeth

AO3 FIC LINK.

Summary:

Solas didn’t dignify this with a response. He wrenched off Rook's chest plate with such force that it slipped out of his hands and skidded across the island, landing with a thud among some debris. The armour underneath might as well have been tissue paper for how little resistance it offered Solas’ tearing hands. Rook furiously slammed a fist into Solas' face, blood erupting over his knuckles, and Solas seized him by the hair and smashed his head into the ground so hard that his vision swirled white and red. “Enough, Rook.” Solas bared his teeth, blood staining them pink. “Fighting will only exacerbate the bleeding.” 

Solas and Rook fall into the prison, angry and violent and wanting.

A/N: I challenged myself to write some hatefucking, but they don't really hate each other so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it's more like passionate anger fucking where they finally address their burning lust for each other and begin tearing off each other's clothes, and then they fall back into fluff territory because I'm predictable like that.

[bl00mingday]

dance the night away, ch.1

summary: you just graduated from the top ranked dancing university in the world, ready to take on whatever came your way. but before immediately getting involved with professional stuff, you wanted to cut yourself some slack. so when you and your group of friends went to South Korea for a trip you definitely weren’t expecting to get recruited while dancing to some random ass kpop dancing challenge. you were baffled when the recruiter uttered the word “EXO” to you, the group that got you into dancing in the first place. so when you accepted the offer you couldn’t help but think “what the hell am i gonna do?”

word count: 2.796

content: age gap (10 years), idol!baekhyun x dancer!reader, swearing, jealousy, will include fluff, angst and smut in the upcoming chapters.

author’s note: hiii!! my first ever post, and i’m happy to say that i feel confident about it. i’m thinking about making it 5 chapters at least. i’ll try to update without long pauses, hope you enjoy ❤️

3..

2….

1!!!!

THROW !!!!

everyone threw their caps in the air, a symphony of happy screams, “woo!!!”s and “congratulations!!” reached my ears as i was scrambling to find my cap on the ground. ughhh why did i even throw it in the first place? i spent 5 days working on the top of the cap for it to have a pretty design just to lose it in 5 SECONDS? nuh-uh. i was cursing at myself when i heard my best friend Karina’s voice.

“hey girlll, you lookin’ for this?”

my cap!!! there it was in all it’s glory.

“OH MY GOD YES! thank you so much ‘rina, i was getting worried that someone stepped on it and turned it into dogshit.”

she laughed and added,

“well thank god that you managed to throw it directly on top of my head, how did you even do that? i was 3 rows behind you.”

she tossed me my hard-earned and hard-worked on cap. i laughed, shrugging my shoulders in an “idk man” way. just then i saw natty and chaewon walking towards us. seeing them in their graduation caps and robes was awfully nostalgic and emotional. my mind drifted to when we first met, as a group.

karina was my roommate. the first time i saw her my mind just went “wow.”, she was (and still is) awfully gorgeous. her long wavy dark indigo hair was the first thing that caught my eye. we bonded instantly thanks to her outgoing nature. and then came chaewon. I was playing Just Dance with karina and we needed a 3rd player. chaewon happened to pass by so i went up to her asking her to join us. she was a bit hesitant at first but agreed nevertheless. last but not least, natty. we were at some frat party when we saw natty twerking to water by tyla with a beer bottle in her right hand. i knew i found my lifelong friend group right then and there. 4 years later, here we are. discussing job opportunities like we weren’t complaining about attending classes just a month ago.

“i heard doja cat’s team is hiring backup dancers for Coachella.” said natty. “oh girl, there isn’t anyone better than you for the job with an ass that’s able to twerk like yours!” karina chimed in, landing a light slap on natty’s upper thigh.

“ughhh you guys are already talking about jobs? why not relax a bit?” whined chaewon, lightly jumping up and down.

“girl. this is doja cat we’re talking about.”

“you can shake ass with her after slacking off a bit, nattyyy~~”

i agreed with chaewon. we all worked super hard throughout these 4 years. we gave our blood, sweat and tears- literally. it was our right to finally breathe a bit. i actually did have an idea. how about…

“..how about south korea?” i said, haven’t been listening to what they were laughing about. they looked at me puzzled. i explained my idea of traveling there for like a week or two. we decided to talk about it later with more details and focused on taking photos for the rest of the day.

“so, why south korea?” asked natty while happily eating her lobster tail pasta.

“i mean, it’s a place i never got to go in my 22 years of life. plus we all know that seoul is an incredible city with lots of history and-“

“-and! with an amazing night life!” noted karina, earning nods and hums of agreement from the girls. after a bit of a pause chaewon broke the silence and proposed her own idea,

“let’s stay there for a whole month! we’ve graduated, hello? and i don’t wanna go to somewhere new and exciting just to return to this same old town in three days again like how we always did.”

she was right. even though we did travel during our university years we didn’t exactly explore the whole city or country that we went to. some tourist attractions and night clubs were enough for us. but this time, we were determined to make a change about that.

“okay, a month is fine by me but what about the plane tickets? the hotel? or are we gonna book an airbnb? let’s not get all giddy before planning. because 30 days?? that is a duration we never experienced before.” natty added before wiping her mouth with a napkin and taking a sip out of her wine.

“true that,” i sighed and continued “a month is great and all but it’s also gonna cost us a lot of money. we need to make sure that we won’t go broke after all those activities that i know you girls are planning to do.” i smirked while karina and natty looked at each other and giggled. we continued to talk about how this whole thing was going to unfold while chaewon asked for the check.

after bidding goodbye to the girls, karina and i went to our apartment that we had rented a month before graduation. “hey, i’m gonna shower. and it’s gonna be an everything shower.” she emphasized the word ‘everything’ with her hands, making an imaginary circle in the air. i let her know that it was fine and i didn’t have anything urgent. just as i heard the water running i plopped onto my bed, laying down like a starfish.

“korea, huh?” i mumbled to myself. of course, the first thing on my mind was exo. i was 13 when i first saw them, in their call me baby era. the way they danced was just so captivating. i immediately fell in love with their music style. the fact that it had almost been 10 years, a decade, since i became a fan of them was making me realize just how fast time flew by. and since i was still a kid when i was 13-14, i didn’t really consider how one of the members might’ve had an impact on me. i only came to realize it during their obsession era.

byun baekhyun.

the sexy yet cute, childish but mature, honey voiced main vocalist of the group. god, he was so.. unreal. the way his white hair bounced on his forehead while he was dancing away, the way he looked in the camera with that goddamn face chain felt like he was staring directly into my soul. oh god- and his hands? his infamous hands? don’t get me started on those hands of his.

i felt a slight blush creeping up on my cheeks. i sighed heavily, knowing that my celebrity crush was.. nothing more than a celebrity crush really. he didn’t know i existed, had millions of fans waiting to throw themselves at him and plus i’m sure he has many beautiful women around him that are just as talented as him. hell, he might even have a girlfriend. i sighed one more time, aware of the fact that i was just a mere fan in the huge ocean of exo-ls. i decided to sulk about it later and opened my laptop to search for an affordable airbnb.

after what felt like an eternity, we got everything done. the airbnb, the plane tickets, the financial aspect… we managed to handle them all. and the day finally came. we met up at the airport and as much as we were excited, we were also anxious.

“you checked everything right? our passports? we have them right?” karina nagged me 7 times in the span of 45 minutes. this was her 8th.

“ughhhh yes, rinaaaa. i did.”

“did you che-“

“yes, i QUADRUPLE checked before leaving the house.”

karina nodded with a slight look of worry on her face. she always got super nervous before passport control. chaewon was looking around to find the airport’s duty-free. natty was chatting with a guy that seemed to be a little too into her, but she knew how to handle attention so i let her be.

after 30 minutes i called them over to check-in. and then passport control and lastly -finally- we managed to board the plane. the seat arrangement of the plane was different than the other ones that we flew with. 2 seats on the right and the left, with 4 seat in the middle. we were happy that we got to sit together. since it was a 15 hour flight, i decided to look through my notes of the places that we were going to visit to kill some time.

“so which night clubs we gon’ go to?” said a very sleepy natty, “i know club double 8 is pretty popular.”

“just go to sleep nat, you’ll think about partying tomorrow.” giggled chaewon.

. . .

holy shit.

fuck.

what? how was baekhyun standing in front of me???

what was happening?

his dark brown eyes never leaving mine. he gestured me to come over.

i obliged, who was i to turn THE BYUN BAEKHYUN down?

he sat down on some type of stool, pushed his hips slightly upwards and just like that, he was manspreading. baekhyun motioned for me to sit on his lap, lightly patting his left upper thigh. i’m SURE that my mouth was hanging open the whole time but who cares? I’M SITTING ON BAEKHYUN’S LAP!! baekhyun caressed my cheeks with his hands, his right thumb brushing my lips. i licked my lips, admiring his handsome face. his left hand found its way to my waist, then to my ass. i could feel myself throb at his lustful action. baekhyun licked his lips ever so slowly, leaned into my left ear and asked after slightly pausing,

“beef or chicken?”

…what.

“ma’am, beef or chicken?” my eyes flung open and i think i gasped, because the flight attendant looked taken aback.

“uh- um- beef, please.” i smiled at her sheepishly, taking the beef that was supposed to be my dinner out of her hands. she smiled and went on with her duty. karina snickered, “dude, what was that about? were you having a wet dream?” SHIT. HOW DID SHE KNOW? she laughed quietly, imitating my puzzled face.

“girl, you were saying “mmh” and “mhm” all the damn time. how could i NOT notice?” i felt myself burning up. it’s like she read my mind. damn you byun baekhyun. i looked over to my left to find natty and chaewon quietly eating their meals, seems like they were too busy to even notice my embarrassing actions while sleeping.

finally, we landed after almost 16 hours, the flight took a bit longer than expected but it was fine. we quickly found an uber to take us to our airbnb, meeting the owners when we arrived. they were a lovely couple leaving for their honeymoon. we wished them a happy honeymoon and settled in. of course, natty immediately wanted to go out and explore the lively city of seoul.

“come on girls, we’re finally here! what are y’all waiting for?!”

chaewon looked unamused, “have you ever heard of ‘jetlag’? let us rest a bit, damn.”

“yeah, natty. maybe we should get used to the time difference here, what do you say?” karina asked, clearly very tired from all the running around at the airport. contrary to karina and chaewon, i wasn’t tired. i felt pumped actually. maybe it was the excitement of being in a new place or maybe it was the adrenaline from my dream with baekhyun. eh, it didn’t matter.

“i’ll come natty!” i said eagerly. she smiled widely, “finally! someone that’s not 80 years old apparently!” we both giggled while karina and chaewon was barely registering what we said.

“okie, well, we’ll be back in an hour or so! bye girlies!” exclaimed natty and pulled me by my wrist.

“Y/N?? WHERE ARE- Y/N!!” i heard natty shouting from a distance. i may have gotten lost when i didn’t wait for her to get tteokbeokki skewers. long story short, i wandered off without her AND MY PHONE, which i forgot was in her bag. the stars somehow ended up aligning for me because i found myself walking towards a random kpop dance challenge in public. with crowds of people watching, filming and waiting for a song that they know to come on. i spent a good 10 minutes watching them and cheering people on. just then growl by exo came on. of course, i rushed with the other people to dance and somehow ended up in front row, putting a show for cheerful strangers singing the fan-chant. then i spotted a very mad looking natty watching me. as soon as the song switched to another one, i smiled from ear to ear to my fellow dancers and immediately rushed over to her.

“where the hell have you been?! i got scared to death! don’t you know how many creeps could be lurking out there?!” i was breathing very heavily but i managed to get out an apology. natty hugged me tightly, giving me my phone back while stating that she would never carry it again. before i could whine about it, i felt a tap on my shoulder,

“excuse me, ma’am.”

we turned around to see a petite figure of a young woman wearing a black cap and a black mask looking up expectantly to me as she was… short. very short.

“yes?”

“hello. my name is song jiwoo. i work as a talent recruiter in INB100. and i wanted to ask if you would want to become a backup dancer for EXO, as they have a big 13th anniversary concert planned. here’s my card. please confirm wether you would want to come to the interview or not in 24 hours.”

INB100.. exo… 13th anniversary concert… dance… me…

i was trying to process what she had just proposed to me. then i realized she was still looking up at me, patiently waiting for an answer.

“uh- uhm, yes!!” i shouted a little, making natty snort. clearing my throat i continued,

“yes, thank you for the opportunity. i will let you know in no time.” i smiled as i shook her hand. she bowed lightly and turned around, disappearing into the crowd.

natty shook me, squeeling happily, “GIRL OH MY FUCKING GODDDD!!??? LIKE WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED??? YOU WILL TAKE IT RIGHT?? RIGHT?!!” i was still examining the card that jiwoo handed me.

after a looooong story time about what happened, karina and chaewon looked at us, their expressions filled with surprise. the room fell silent. clearly, they were waiting for me to say something.

“you will accept it, right? we all know how big of a fan you are of them.” said karina softly, squeezing my right hand reassuringly.

“i know,” i huff “but it just feels hypocritical you know… telling you guys to relax and not take on jobs… while if i accept this, i’m gonna be doing the opposite of what we intended to do with this trip.” i groaned, taking my face into my own hands.

“girl, you’re fucking crazy. none of us will judge you whatsoever for taking a great- an INCREDIBLE job opportunity! this might change your life. and who knows, maybe you’ll get laid by an exo member~” said natty suggestively while making kissing noises. we laughed. after a long pause, i finally spoke up.

“i will take it.”

karina and natty immediately hugged me, showering me with encouraging words. chaewon patted my back, i sensed something with her acting like this but i decided to ignore it. she was really tired from the moment we landed after all.

after researching if song jiwoo was a real recruiter of INB100, i dialed her number.

…ring…

…ring…

..ri- “hello. this is song jiwoo.”

i looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table. 03.47 am. i sighed- it was more of a huff really.

after years of looking up to them, i was going to be beside them.

training with them.

dancing with them.

…

what the hell am i gonna do?

[incalotlarts]

King Invictis takes Keeva up on her offer to cook together. It turns out cutting fruit is harder than he'd assumed, but thankfully Keeva is there to help.

(Accompanying writing under the cut!)

CW: Small injury

"Oh, oh wait a moment!”

Invictis immediately stops in place, rather caught off guard by Keeva’s sudden exclamation, knife in hand frozen in the middle of a cutting motion. He tilts his head to look at her with curious eyes. “Hm?”

Suddenly at his side, so sudden it’s a wonder she didn’t crash into him, she points to his left hand, the one holding down the fruit he had just been about to cut. “You need to move your fingers or else you'll hurt yourself, especially with something small and slippery like this. Here."

The drakon allows his hand to be guided into place by Keeva. Her touch is very soft, almost feeling like a light breeze against the top of his hand, but it feels more substantial the longer it remains as she gently moves his clawed fingers so they curl into his palm slightly, no longer in the way of the knife his right hand holds. His eyes trail from Keeva's hand up to her face, which was currently furrowed slightly in concentration, but her expression changes to something softer as she pulls her hand back, her own gaze meeting his expectantly.

“So… like this?” he asks, attempting once again to cut a slice from the small, round Tír na nÓg fruit, fingers no longer in danger of being included.

Keeva smiles with a satisfied nod. “Exactly!” she confirms. “Just keep doing that and you’ll be great.”

As she quickly flies back to the stove to continue cooking the crepe batter they had made earlier, Invictis turns back to the fruit and slowly, carefully tries to cut them into more slices, taking his time to ensure each one was the same size as the last. His movements are clearly stiff and lack confidence despite his best efforts, but still he continues with conviction.

With all the chaos that existed in the world, having a small moment like this without worrying about meetings or the never-ending problems was a necessity to stay sane. That’s what Keeva had said, at least, or something close to that. She’d initially seemed a little surprised when Invictis had shown up at the Avalon once again with the intention of taking her up on the offer she’d made to cook with him, but surprise quickly gave way to excitement and before he knew it, he’d found himself in the Avalon’s kitchen with Keeva teaching him everything he needed to know to make crepes himself. She would always make time, she’d said.

Learning how to measure the ingredients for the batter had been the first step, and one that went relatively quickly; once he knew what everything was, and how much of each ingredient the batter needed, it was easy. Cutting the fruit for the filling, however, was proving to be significantly more challenging. Keeva had made it seem so much easier when she’d shown him how to do it, breezing through each slice quickly to leave the fruit a pretty little pile of relatively even slices. He could only do his best to match what she had shown, but it felt like he was taking a century to cut through just half of this single fruit.

“Are you sure we’re using the same knife?” he asks, leaning down slightly to stare in utter disbelief at how little progress he’s made.

“I handed it to you myself, so… yes?” she replies with a slight laugh, throwing a sympathetic smile over her shoulder. “No need to rush, and I can help you finish those if I get done first. Okay?”

As kind as that was, it was simply unacceptable for her to need to finish this for him. He just needed to go a little faster, that was all. Easy enough. The growing aroma of freshly cooked crepes in the air only furthered his resolve to do this well. He’d conquered more dangerous foes than a little piece of fruit, after all.

“Oh no, it’s quite alright,” he says determinedly, giving the fruit one faster chop, then another. Easy. This was easy. He hardly notices that he’d gone right back to holding the fruit the wrong way again. “Right.” Another chop, a little too close to his fingers. “I think I’ve got it n– ow.”

Okay, perhaps it was not so easy after all.

Before he could even lift his hand to assess the damage, Keeva was already back at his side with obvious concern.

“What happened? Are you– oh,” she says, pausing only for a moment as she spots the obvious victim to his speedier knifework, frowning in further concern as she grabs his hand to get a better look.

“It’s fine, it’s fine! My own mistake,” he reassures, but Keeva doesn’t budge.

“No, you’re hurt!” she argues, raising his hand a little higher as if to show him exactly how not fine it is.

It’s not a large cut, thankfully the knife had only grazed one of his fingers, but it was deep enough to bleed. Although she didn’t say anything, It was also very clear she knew exactly what had happened, her eyes darting from the cut across his finger to the knife he still held.

“Um… Here, take this. Hold it in place,” she says firmly, grabbing a small towel from the edge of the table and pressing it lightly against the wound, flashing him a sympathetic look when he winces. “Sorry.”

Invictis sets the knife down and complies with her demand. “It’s fine,” he repeats, offering a soft smile, trying his best not to grimace or wince at the sharp pain shooting through his hand.

Still not convinced, she gives him a slight shake of her head, but doesn’t argue further. She instead looks around the room, clearly looking for something else that would help, but sighs when she spots nothing. “I wish I could heal people like… hm. Wait!”

While curious, Invictis says nothing and waits. He watches as she hunts for something in a small bag at her side, then catches a glint of something small and green in her hand of what he can only assume is the item she’d been searching for.

“I’m going to try something,” she says absently, her focus clearly elsewhere as she then quietly speaks the words of a spell. When she’s done a few seconds later, nothing seems to have happened from Invictis’ perspective, but there seems to be a boost of confidence that’s sparked within her. She begins uttering another spell, this time taking his injured hand within one of her own, the other moving the towel out of the way before ghosting her fingers against the wound. It briefly glows with a soft light that blooms like a flower before fading into specks of light, and all at once the cut seems to close on its own and disappears as if it were never there to begin with.

“Oh, good! It did work!” She relaxes in visible relief before pulling the hand a little closer to get a better look at where the cut had been, then nods, satisfied to see it had in fact been healed.

"Ah! I didn't know you had the ability to heal?” he remarks, leaning in to see for himself. “That is truly impressive."

“No no, normally I don’t,” she replies with a dismissive wave before taking the towel back from him, frowning a bit at the blood staining it. How could one cut bleed so much? “That was… um, Iris’ thing. And Tara. I can just… Well, um, it’s a little complicated, but I can give Lan extra power for a little while. Like the ability to heal, just a small cure wounds spell. So I thought that maybe it would work for myself too. And it did, thankfully.”

Invictis gives a slight nod in gratitude, moved by her kind gesture. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” she says with a cheerful smile, then pauses, and sheepishly adds, “Okay, well, not anytime. Okay, well, I do mean that! But uh, I don’t think I can do that again today. The healing? But I am happy to help! Just, um… be careful.”

It’s endearing seeing her try to get the words right, and he can’t help but smile a bit, though it quickly gives way to a hint of his own embarrassment. After all, she wouldn’t have had to heal him if he’d paid a little more attention.

“I’ll do my best,” he says with another slight nod, but frowns as almost at the same time, the two of them realize something smells off, like something was burning.

“The crepes!” Keeva exclaims, and it’s only now that Invictis realizes she had still been holding his hand as she finally releases it to fly back to the stove, pulling the pan off the heat to dump a very sad, very burnt crepe onto the plate with the rest of the cooked ones. She feigns a heavy sigh. “Fae-shit.”

“I… take it that it’s not supposed to be that color?”

She turns and gives him a very awkward smile, but laughs a little despite herself. “Ah, well, I clearly make my mistakes too. Getting you patched up was more important, though. Oh well, maybe the… the plants will like that one.” She picks up the blackened disc and grimaces. Being able to taste through one’s hands felt like a curse at this moment. “Ugh… No, absolutely not. No one deserves that.”

With the sad crepe quickly discarded and the smell of burnt food being replaced by the sweeter scent of newly made crepes, the both of them settle back into comfortable silence as they resume their individual tasks. As he finishes slicing yet another fruit, thankfully without injuring himself this time now that he was going at a more careful pace, he pauses to look at his freshly healed hand, and can’t help but smile softly.

[naib-mir]

Ohhh, careful with those MiR, there's a tradition of getting kissed when there's a mistletoe nearby! Let's hope you don't get ambushed ♡

“These traditions confuse me… but i doubt anything to bad will happen…”

[princema-k]

THE LIVING MUSEUM: CHAPTER 1

(interactive puzzle at the bottom!)

As luck would have it, the detective had a case that had just been given to her by the Chief Constable Barton (talk about a high order!) I watched as she leafed through the folders on her desk before slipping out a small stack of papers and bringing them over to me. Clearing her throat, Detective Layton ran over the details…

“At approximately 2:00pm, a fire alarm in the Natural History Museum sounded. Around 5 minutes later, visitors in the museum reported that they witnessed several exhibits, and I quote, ‘come to life before their eyes.’ There were visitors who told officials that the suits of armour on display had started to move and raise their weapons, visitors who reported that paintings on the walls started to melt and blink, and visitors who said that the dinosaur skeleton exhibits had opened their mouths and moved their heads. But the most damning of all seemed to be the Tyrannosaurus rex exhibit, who not just moved but assumed a lunging stance with its full body, as well as somehow roared.”

“Right, that’s odd. And?”

“Well, since the officials were only able to question the visitors outside of the museum due to everyone having been evacuated because of the fire alarm, naturally they went inside to check the exhibits themselves.”

“And they found…?”

“Nothing. They did a whole sweep of the area, but they found nothing out of place. All exhibits were in their normal places, the paintings were just fine, and everything was untouched.”

“Wow…”

“I assume the reason that Barton held onto what information they had on it and handed it to me was due to the witnesses. Despite the fact that the Yard found no obvious signs of tampering, everyone swears up and down the walls that the museum had seemingly come to life at that moment.”

“...That is a proper mystery. And these files are all we have on the matter?”

“Well, in a sense, yes. These are all the files we have,” Detective Layton muses as she taps the bottom of the stack on the coffee table. Then, getting up, she drops the stack back in their folder. “...Which is why I was thinking of heading over to the museum myself to do a bit of personal investigation.”

“As expected of the great Professor Layton,” I say cheekily as I stand and follow her to the front door, grabbing my jacket off the hanger in the process. The detective sighs lightly as she places her hat on her head, pulling the brim over her eyes in mock disappointment. “Please, Ms. Altava. It's just Detective.”

Now lifting the brim, she smiles brightly as she grabs her umbrella.

“So, Ms. Altava… let’s go investigate this living museum with our own two eyes, shall we?”

And with that, our adventure into the peculiar museum begi-

“Ah, but before that, I have here the directions to the museum written for me by Barton, and it seems to be a puzzle of some sort. As you’re now my assistant, why don’t you give it a shot? Think of it as a warm-up of things to come.”

…Right. She’s Layton’s daughter, after all. How could I have forgotten? …And are we sure they're not really related by blood…?

PUZZLE 1: Where's The Museum?

Take your time and think about the answer, or Flora (and the puzzle master) will be very disappointed in you...!

A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H | I | J (Need a hint?: 1 | 2 | 3)

(thanks to @justkillingthyme for beta reading, and several mutuals for puzzle testing!)