#do u not think she maybe deserves a bit of a salvation

[princesseevee06]

can u plz elaborate on hinako and maples sisterly relationship! i would love to know more.. especially cuz it'd make the fact they swapping the yabusames even sadder 😯

for sure! they’re a super sweet (and super angsty *sweats*) dynamic to me, so i’m happy to elaborate!

sort of the main ‘kick off’ for their interactions is in the first trial. basically, hinako has the same first main trial (having to cooperate with someone else over another floor) but instead of being paired with alice, she’s instead paired with maple who handles the situation a lot differently. maple is very adamant on finding a way out for the two of them together, and so they’re both able to make it out alive! hinako is utterly baffled that someone actually wanted to help her so she’s stuck halfway between being grateful and being upset. meanwhile, maple is super concerned when she then wakes up with everyone else and hinako isn’t there (she went to hide in the locker 😔) because she thinks something must’ve happened.

when they do meet, though, maple sees this young girl who is clearly frail and struggling and her Big Sister instincts instantly kick in. she’s already used to caring for others in her daily life, so helping hinako out sort of helps her feel more ‘in her element’ (plus, she heavily empathizes with the girl)

hinako, on the other hand, is also in desperate need of a Big Sister figure as she’s been estranged from her actual big sister (fake hinako, who i dubbed hana) (because i didnt realize there was a manga character Also named hana.) (do u guys think i should just keep it or change it to something else 😭), and like. she was literally in the middle of running away from home when she got kidnapped. she’s overall just having a rough go of it

so they get along really well, and sort of end up being each other’s comfort as the death game progresses ^^ maple ends up being really protective of hinako when hana shows up (because she takes the place of ranger) and acts really cold, because she’s like “hinako doesn’t deserve any of this >:(“ (she doesn’t know hana was basically psychologically manipulated into suppressing her true emotions)

when maple gets switched out in the room of lies, hinako is the first person to notice something is off, but sort of like alice she brushes it off and chalks it up to maple being rightfully stressed in a dire situation. she figures, maple is maple, and she’s still a super kindhearted lady, so obviously nothing must be wrong.

aaaaaaand that of course brings us to the chap 2 subgame. i haven’t really talked much about the maple/hinako split route, but i think it’s interesting to me because of how Emotionally Devastating it is.

on the route where maple lives, she has to watch this 14 year old girl she came to see as her little sister Die in front of her. and of course she blames herself for it. because hinako was worried and coming to look for her, and she literally couldn’t do anything. i don’t think maple is ever really “the same” after this point, obviously she’s not a different person or anything but hinako’s death really alters her because it makes her realize her prior mentality of looking at the bright side just…doesn’t work in a situation like this. she is Super angry and vengeful against the floormasters, specifically (i haven’t really worked it out yet, but there might be a similar scene with her to the one where alice attacks gashu)

but the hinako route does Not lead to any salvation for these girls either because hinako has to watch both 1. her twin sister and 2. her big sister figure die in the span of…a minute, maybe? the girl she grew up with and always longed to reconnect with, and the girl who believed in her even in her darkest hour. she’s definitely Not happy about it. i do think the route takes a tiiiiny bit more of a positive spin though, because this marks the turning point of hinako steadying her resolve to fight for herself and others just like maple did.

sorry anon you probably wanted to know more about the fluffy parts of the dynamic and i just ended up supplying angst again 😔 i swear i’m not always this sad it’s just easy to make angst. but they really do have a sweet relationship (somehow i feel like it would be similar to what nao and kanna would act like together if they…ever actually had many interactions together.), it’s just cut short by the Narrative being the Narrative.

[neo-shitty]

toffee!

hehe glad i could make you laugh, oooh that sounds awesome! yeah id love to be tagged it sounds great :)

YES the differences are so fucking weird. like, they do know they're the same age right? i feel like its just an exagguration of how much the persons role in the group matters, like we see chan being held up as such a mature, old leader while jungkook who is literally the same age, is still babied etc. like enha hyung line is basically the same age (if a bit younger) as chenle and jisung but somehow the rules are different?? as you point out, still legal but still bizarre. hehe yeah, i mean where else are we going to rant? quora lol. mmm, hopefully more people can just write less smut abt people who are barely adults

ah, no prob it didnt take long. yeah i think thats right (i keep forgetting you know my url lol) mmhmm :( i think if that happened irl there would be some major trauma going on. knock wood it never happens to you or me lol (/hj)

hehe same! oooh glad Redemption For Cheese was realised! yess we cant rllycomplain that theyve written/produced too much good music lol. yeah, ive dragged him into being a stay so *dusts hands off* mission accomplished. mmm yeah, they tend to have a certain vibe but tbh it couldve worked if they were any other group but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ahh ur one step ahead of me on the stages of listening to ssick i think, still not convinced but thats okay! hehe, it had to be said. yesss the itch in the back of my brain is very satisfied by sorry i love you, felixs vocals deserve to be appreciated! (side note i feel like hes trying to sing more like his speaking voice, sorta husky, but tbh i wouldnt be mad if he sang like in glow, his sweet honey vocals made my life lol. but i think ive heard him say he doesnt like singing like that cos it makes his normal voice less husky, so what can you do)

> YES SOMEONE SAID IT. seungmin rap KING, he sped thru that rap like it was nothing, he deserves more rap lines. i do like how they gave minho some melodic rap lines this comeback, my guy deserved to show off those skills that made him not be eliminated (flashbacks to stay collectively wanting to murder jyp) and we already know changbin can sing, my man murdered masked singer. hyunjin can obviously sing as can jisung and felix, and i want to hear chan rap more! i feel like he started as part of 3racha (as a rap unit not producing) and then just became a vocalist (which im fine with, but it could be nice to hear him flex his rapping skills) and was partially replaced by hyunjin. anywayyy

back to album talk. lmaooo sad music to twerk to PERFECTLY describes silent cry. yes secret secret is and will always be, a masterpiece. hehe glad i could make you laugh :) i just felt like they have similar vibes. putting off skz stuff bc of not having time to cry IS the kpop stan life summarised. oh my beloved track, red lights. ahh thats okay, we can have different opinions, but by god the lyrics are *chefs kiss*. *banging on table* TWISTED AU TWISTED AU TWISTED AU. yess id love to see ur take on it! sdfghjkl it would have been glorious

no no! not stupid, just able to predict my brainwaves. ooooh thats so cool! makes me want to go there (wherever there is lol) yeah the waves are pretty good here, but none of my familys a surfer, so we dont rlly enjoy the full potential lol. YES moving on to gone away, it is indeed a heartwrenching track, but the vocals and the bloody key change? makes me want to brave being sad just to listen to it. mmm yeah, good point :( i feel like ive just gotten used to overthinking so much so that it doesnt matter what mood im in, ill do it anyway, so might as well just do what i feel like doing anyway.

yeah i think ur right! it is quite comforting knowing that all the tracks will get the love they deserve. i feel like also people assume kpop is just one genre which is utter bs. there are so many different vibes and feels and songs, i couldnt get into kpop (of which i thought only the bright cheerful present day bts stuff existed smh) until i heard gods menu so... idk where i was going with this but yeah. :)

YES FUCK YG, theyre literally on the brink of being kicked out of the big three and they are holding their salvation hostage without letting them do ANYTHING. idek what thought process goes thru their minds but arghhh its so infuriating. yess lisa's cb will be awesome but ot4 is the gold standard here.

hehe, glad u could get to this point. no no! u dont sound like a cult member at all lol yeah, i loooove some of their songs but the whole 23 members thing is getting to me. thats prob a common problem with nctzens but what can i say? im a simple girl with a limit to how many korean boys i can give my money to. atm im just trying to get into ateez and finish memorising enhypen's faces. also kard is kinda sucking me into their fandom atm, as well as eric name lol. ah what can you do? ooh thats good!

hehe i love it too! its exactly like online penpals, that was rlly well put. aww ty! hmm im okay, recovering from a bad case of rsv so thats fun. im doing okay mentally, starting therapy soon (after having to convince my mother that its not just smth i can brush off). physically i wont go into, basically i should be doing stretches to help but they dont completely fix it so my lazy ass doesnt do them, plus i got told recently im going to be stuck with this condition for the rest of my life so thats fun! ah, before you type smth dw abt me ill be fine. the weather atm is cloudy but warm, its been raining on and off today which is good for the garden. uhh i just finished reading sunburnt veils and im in the middle of prom theory which is rlly good. ummm ive got a concert tonight? that i may or may not be able to sing in (bc of the whole rsv thingo) and uhhhh idk. my dog is cute? im drinking tea rn? ive got a school dance coming up?

wbu? hows ur day going, how are you? whats the weather like on ur end? done anything interesting lately? found smth that makes you rlly happy? just any random thing youve been dying to tell someone?

no no! dont apologise, i love these exchanges. i think im happy to continue them for a long time :) on the other hand, if you get tired of them, feel free to just not answer at any time. goodness gracious this was a long ask haha hope it isnt too annoying

<3 w.a. 🐺

sorry it took me a bit to reply, i was fixing my theme ;n;

yeah, i figured it was because of the roles too. my friends and i still get taken aback when 3rd gen idols are the same age as 4th gen ones. in my head it doesn't add up sometimes. PLS THE RANT AT QUORA SKJDK tbh tho it's just going to be normalized as the years pass? esp that the boys are growing older and the amount of explicit fics will just increase. i might have to start blocking tags.

i had to look up the previous ask to remember what we were talking about xd i hope the events in champagne problems never happens to anyone. realistically, it probably happens a lot. damn i really won't wish that pain on anyone. dragging your brother into being a stay i whEEZED JFKSA additional noeasy music enthusiast o.o and ALL I CAN SAY WITH YOU GUSHING ABT FELIX IS AHA WHIPPEEEED OML can't blame you tho, i also want to hear felix sing more in other shades (if that makes sense HAHA) i really hope they'll do the role exchange in the next comeback :( or like in the near future bc i know they can do it :( the day i hear seungmin rapping it i will respectfully pass away. minho was given more lines this comeback thank fUCK i could rmb my irl being vocal abt her frustration. i don't get why minho barely has center time/lines in title tracks??? like the line distribution in the past eras just made me ???? if seventeen can balance lines with 13 members why cant a group of 8 do the same? moving on. i haven't watched the stray kids show simply bc i don't want to cry HAJS but i've seen clips. imagine if skz debuted without minho and felix?!?!? i rmb another irl catching bias feels towards changbin bc of the masked singer only to find out that the man's a rapper. i love how skz's vocals were highlighted this comeback :c there were a lot of mellow tracks! i find it cute when chan sings/raps bc it gets kinda obvious that he's a foreigner? the accent (im not even sure if it's the accent) it just shows. "putting off skz stuff bc of not having time to cry IS the kpop stan life summarised." CORRECT.

abt the twisted au o.O i'll inquire my irl if she wants to write it or not. if she doesn't want to, i'll do it. i miss writing twisted aus <3___<3 and i also miss going to the beach with my friends :' ) but it's starting to get cold here and i don't think i'll be able to enjoy the beach as much as i would if i went beaching in the summer. so maybe next summer? gone away really has an sm-ballad vibe. the thing about skz being a self-producing group, their songs don't sound like typical jype songs? and i just appreciate that bc in all honesty im not a fan of jyp groups at all. PLS the overthinking. i wish i could mute overthinking.

anyone who assumes kpop is just one genre obv hasn't listened to a single track. if kpop was just one genre why do i like some tracks more than the others??? oh you've only recently become a kpop stan? tbh im not a fan of the bright songs of bts either. i liked their older ones *chefs kiss* really matched high school vibes. yg has good artists and they're just wasting the talent ~.~ that strategy they have will get tiring eventually. people will stop waiting on blackpink and move on to newer more active groups ://

HAHAHAH yeah the 23 members is pretty overwhelming! it was the reason i didn't bother stanning before quarantine started. i don't regret stanning tho, met my ult bias in that group <3___<3 i don't really purchase albums unless i like the tracks xd ohhh getting into ateez just in time for the comeback! let me know what you think about them! i was fond of them at some point but grew out of it. good luck with memorizing enhypen! it took me a while to distinguish to people there XD i haven't checked out kard yet but chan plays their songs during lives and they're sexc hype music me likey *u*

i had to look up rsv im sorry. i'm glad you're recovering! please rest more and don't stress yourself out. bro i wish i could go to therapy too bc i have weird issues i can't justify and i need a professional to tell me what's the reason behind it. stuck with what condition btw? what happened? i'm sorry in case i just forgot. yesterday was a bit rainy for me too :(( it's not the type of rainy that makes me anxious so B) oh concert! good luck and i hope you'll be able to sing but i also don't think it's best for you rn :c what's your dog's breed? and yes i just finished drinking tea too. AAAAA i miss school dances :(( the last one i was supposed to have was cancelled bc of covid.

i was less productive today and i'm teetering between being mentally stable and becoming a hermit again. i'm anxious with a lot of things atm so like : D not the best state. today it was a bit sunny but not hot hot which was nice. i changed my theme today bc i couldn't wait for sept. 1st. and no i haven't found anything that makes me happy HAHAHA shit like that's hard to identify. don't have anything to say too, i'm just thinking about why i'm procrastinating too much atm T_T and i'm listening to this rap song atm and one of the rappers sounded like han.

it isn't annoying! i enjoy the long exchanges but i do admit it takes me awhile to type down a reply. so if i get more busy, it'll prolly take a bit longer for me to reply.

[actually-2000-mice]

Can we please

CAN WE PLEASE

CaN We PlEaSe

talk about how fucking gorgeous the finale of les mis is

Like these isnt a single part of this song that isn’t just amazing

I particularly love “take my love for love is ever lasting, and remember the truth that once was spoken to love another person is to see the face of god” like if that isnt the most beautiful gorgeous shit ever then what the fuck is. Like just this whole musical is amazing and I love it with all my heart and I just every single character is amazing and essential to the story and just fuck man. 

I also think it is also very interesting because now you finally see Valjean just.. tired.. He has lost everything, then gained everything, then lost everything again over the course of his life. He is tired his life has been hard and difficult and honestly I think this adds so much more meaning to the words “come with me where chains will never bind you, all your grief at last at last behind you, lord in heaven look down on him in mercy” Up until the end he is constantly on edge that he is going to be sent back to prison in his mind the law is always chasing him and he is waiting for it to catch back up to him because honestly in the end I don’t think he still fully believes he deserves to be free and that’s why he is willing to give himself up to Javert as soon as he makes sure Cosette and Marius are okay and that Cosette is going to be safe. He doesn’t stay out of jail because he believes that he is a good man who deserves to be out of jail he stays out of jail because Cosette needs him an he loves Cosette. In death he is being freed by this fear of going back to jail and fear that he deserves to go back to jail as Fantine extends out her hand with this offer of come with me, come to a place where chains will never bind you. She then goes on to say “ all your grief at last at last behind you” His whole life has been full of grief from the very beginning, I mean he stole bread to help his sister and then his sister fucking abandoned him, although he wasn’t super close to Fantine he genuinely cared about everyone and losing her was a pain in itself especially cause he blamed himself (or at least probably blamed himself for this loss) he was there when all the barricade boys died, he thought he lost his daughter and son in law. She is once against extending this hand to allow him to put away his pain his grief his fucking hard as fuck life and go be happy finally and truly I mean this poor man. I then find the line “lord in heaven look down on him in mercy” then continued by him saying “forgive me all my trespasses and take me to your glory” fascinating because like idk maybe this just is me not understanding something about mainstream Christianity cause turns out my cult was a bit different but in the end Valjean was a fundamentally good man even down to the reason he was in prison, he might not believe it but his whole life was centered around helping other people, he didn’t care for his own life he wasn’t selfish even before jail, did jail harden him a bit yes but the bishop melted away that hardness and you see this amazing selfless man who just wants to help other people emerge and I think thats amazing. I don’t really see what needs forgiving and this might be coming from the same person who didn’t understand why we needed to repent every single day but I don’t think he really has anything that needs forgiving he was the literal definition of a g o o d person. Idk if anyone made it this far in this post and understands that line feel free to explain it.

The song then segments into some of my favorite lines in the entire show “take my hand and lead me to salvation, take my love for love is ever lasting, and remember the truth that once was spoken to love another person is to see the face of god” Now part of what is so fascinating about these lines is who says them The first line and second lines are said by Eponine and Fantine and the third line is said by Valjean, Eponine, and Fantine. Now I find this fact particularly fascinating because If you think about it Eponine and Fantine both lived lives that were God damn hard and might even be seen as bad lives or get them marked as bad people by others but in the end they were fundamentally GOOD people who both were given a terrible hand in life and died young. Fantine probably died around 23 ish the brick is really unclear on it but she was young she couldn’t have been older then 17 when she had cosette she was basically the equivalent of some teen who “falls” for a college dude gets knocked up and dumped but on top of that she also was an orphan living on her own. She then needed to provide for her child whom she had living with other people to avoid stigma and she loved her child so deeply that she was willing to give her life to help her child potentially have a better one. She ends up wrongfully getting fired and has to turn to prostitution in order to help her child, she didn’t want to turn to prostitution but she had no other choice this is a 21-22 year old CHILD we are talking about here. She ended up dying without ever seeing her child again even though she desperately wanted to this was the child she gave her life for and she never got to see her again and she was only about 23. Now there’s Eponine Eponine appears to be the antithesis to Cosette, where cosette had a childhood but a good life 8+ Eponine had a relatively good childhood but a terrible life after about the time cosette left. there lives parallel each others in a way but not really at the same time but what makes it that she only appears to be the antithesis to Cosette is the fact that she is a very good person who genuinely cares about the people that she loves very much like cosette. They show the audience and reader how how and where someone was raised really determines so much in their life and in the end compliment each other rather quite lovely if you think about it.   But Eponine was handed a very bad hand in life a hand that led to her dying at no older then probably about 16-17 (I don’t remember is her exact age is if stated) to an outside viewer she was a scammer and a thief when in fact she was a good caring person in a bad situation being abused by her father and just doing what she had to in order to survive and in the end she ended up dying with no one to really truly remember her with in a few years. Now this makes the fact that the two of them are the ones who are saying “take my hand and lead me to salvation, take my love for love is ever lasting” very very interesting because of two reasons 1) because “lead me to salvation” they’re both people to who outside people look like beyond saving I mean you have a prostitute and a thief most people will look at that and judge and think they can’t be saved but here they are looking out to salvation looking to make it to salvation who will make it to salvation because they’re at heart really good people and were doing what they had to in order to survive and help the ones they love 2) “take my love for love is everlasting” Love is all they had to give its all they had to offer but they obviously loved fiercely because thats all they have to give but it is everlasting and is what really really matters in the end. Look at Fantine and Cosette and Eponine and Azelma and Eponine and Marius. Love is all they really had to offer those people but they gave every ounce of love they had and they did everything in their power to help those people cause they loved them dearly. I think it is also very important that it is the two of them saying it cause it gives these words so much more meaning then if literally any other character had been saying it because of their extremely specific life circumstances and how they ended up living and dying. Now we get to the third line “and remember the truth that once was spoken, to love another person is to see the face of God” This is said by all three of them if I ever get a phrase fucking tattooed on me its gonna be this one because h o l y f u c k okay so like Valjean pitches into this one. these three characters have arguably gone through the most out of almost every single other character in this story their lives have been thing after thing after thing gone wrong and hardship after hardship. Now I would say it means more that valjean stayed out of the last one because he had money he had the ability to give more then just love even though he did give so much love it gives the words more meaning that thats all the other two really had to give. But with this line he pitches in to love another person is to see the face of god, the highest best thing you can do is to love another person. In loving another person you see the face of god himself, it is the closest you can get to seeing god’s hand in all of this and I find that beautiful. These three loved with all their might they saw the face of god through all the pain all the suffering because they loved. It speaks to the importance of love because in the end this story would not be the same without the love that is intertwined throughout it, the love that shown through the suffering. In the end honestly I would say this can be applied to our own lives because love trumps all and that’s something I feel like the world has always failed to see love can and will win in the end and you really see this with this beautiful musical.

So then (sorry y’all thought I was done but nope bitch I’ve got more to say) the music transitions to the kinda reprise of do you hear the people sing. “do you hear the people sing lost in the valley of the night it is the music of a people who are climbing to the light. For the wretched of the earth there is a flame that never dies. Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise. They will live again in freedom in the garden of the lord. They will walk behind the plow shed they will put away the sword. The chain will be broken and all men will have their reward. will you join in our crusade who will be strong and stand with me somewhere beyond the barricade is there a world you long to see, do you hear the people sing say do you hear the distant drums it is the future that they bring when tomorrow comes. will you join in our crusade who will be strong and stand with me somewhere beyond the barricade is there a world you long to see do you hear the people sing say do you hear the distant drums it is the future that they bring when tomorrow comes” Okay oh boy oh boy oh boy do I have stuff to say about this part. Okay so theres a lot to this and I doubt y’all want to hear another 2000 words from me but lets start from the beginning of this. What I find so cool about this is that it really connects the little blurb at the beginning of the brick  “So long as there shall exist, by reason of law and custom, a social condemnation which, in the midst of civilization, artificially creates a hell on earth, and complicates with human fatality a destiny that is divine; so long as the three problems of the century - the degradation of man by the exploitation of his labour, the ruin of women by starvation and the atrophy of childhood by physical and spiritual night are not solved; so long as, in certain regions, social asphyxia shall be possible; in other words and from a still broader point of view, so long as ignorance and misery remain on earth, there should be a need for books such as this.” to the musical because it really is a call to action to us now. They don’t end the musical with Valjean dying to they choose to reprise do you hear the people sing they don’t let the story end because the story isn’t fucking over. Nothing ever got solved in the book because it is a story about the miserables, about the poor, about the disadvantaged, the hurting the people of france. There are no “bad guys” in the book because all of them are suffering and there is no clean ending to it all because they were all still suffering and still are. Thats why this story drags in so many fans even now over 100 years later because all of this still largely holds true today because there are still injustices people are still hurting and need help and we need to fucking do something. That future is still on the horizon it is still coming and we need to do something about helping it bring it to past. I could do deeper analysis on each of these lines and the connections in les mis but that would easily be another 2000 works and so I will spare y’all this time. Sorry for the long post I hope y’all enjoy it. 

[side-effect-of-the-meds]

Okay so its okay if u dont do this, i underdstand but if ever you do im wondering what Aaron's reaction is once he finds out what happened to Erin? Im just desperate for twinyards. How does he take it and will he ever find out what happened to her in all those foster homes and her scars?

Sorry this took so long, love! You’ve probably lost interest but here’s the answer anyway. I’ve got another request for Twinyards so I’m saving the scars bit for that. 

They were only playing around when it happened. Katelyn had been riling Aaron up since he’d walked through the door, teasing him, laughing at him. The breaking point had been when she started to tickle him. 

“Katelyn, stop,” he gasped through fits of laughter. 

“Say please,” she cooed. Aaron could barely catch his breath, let alone say please. Instead, he caught her by her wrists and flipped her over so he sat straddling her. Pinning her arms down on either side of her face he closed the distance between the two of them. He speckled kisses all over her face. Katelyn laughed at the ridiculous display of affection from him. As he pulled back, he saw her face flushed with her arms pinned on either side. Her long blonde hair had come unbound and was splayed across the white bedsheets. Suddenly, the sheets were soaked red. The hands pinning her down weren’t his own. They were far too big to be his. Drawing his gaze back to Katelyn’s face, it wasn’t Katelyn he had pinned down. In her place was a face identical to his own, haloed by pale gold hair. Tears streamed down the girl’s face. Manic laughter echoed through Aaron’s head.

“Erin!” he shrieked as he toppled off the bed. Scrambling backward, he felt his back hit the door. Aaron felt as if there were chains binding his torso. He clawed desperately at his chest, trying to tear off chains that weren’t really there. He couldn’t breathe. 

“Aaron. Aaron, it’s me. It’s Katelyn.” Aaron’s gaze snapped up to see Katelyn kneeling a foot in front of him. Her hands were outstretched, hovering around his face. He grabbed them and cupped them around his face. Sobs wracked his body and he felt Katelyn get closer. She dropped a hand from his face and wrapped her arm around him. She drew him into her lap. Aaron didn’t know how long he sat there crying, only that Katelyn didn’t leave him the entire time. 

It had been three weeks since Erin had been shipped off to Easthaven. Aaron hadn’t even known that she was leaving. Josten had been the one to tell him. The words had barely left her mouth before he’d shot out of his chair, knocking it over in the process. He’d torn down the hall and flung open the front door. Aaron had run all the way down the street before collapsing to his knees. Digging his hands into the ground, he ripped hunks of grass out and screamed up at the sky. He curled up in a ball and lay there for a few seconds, minutes, hours. Something nudged him and he turned to look up. A hand had appeared out of the sky. For half a second, Aaron thought it was God coming to save him from his misery. It was only Josten. He smacked her hand away and got to his feet on his own. Trudging back to the house, he wiped the tears from his eyes. He smeared snot all over his shirt sleeve but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“What did you think running was going to accomplish?” Josten asked him when she found him searching for answers at the bottom of a bottle of Jack Daniels. Aaron just stared at the floor. 

“Why are you different?” he whispered. He looked over at Josten. A frown creased her brow. “I know you’re not that stupid,” he spat. “Why does Erin treat you differently? What makes you so special? Why does she do things for you?” 

Now it was Josten’s turn to avoid his gaze. He watched as she shrunk into her sweater. No. Not hers. The sweater she wore belonged to Erin, a Christmas present from Nicky. He had watched his sister chuck it in Josten’s face before they’d left for the drive out here. After a few endless minutes, she finally answered. “Because we’re the same,” she whispered. 

“What do you mean?” Aaron asked. With a sigh, Ania told him about men with sharp smiles and roaming hands. She told him about their stale alcohol breath and the weight of them bearing down on her. She told him about a boy in Millport that’s shoved her up against the lockers so many times that she’d lost count. Tears slipped from Aaron’s eyes against his will. Little by little, the pieces of the puzzle clicked together. 

“That’s why you never come near us,” Aaron said softly as she finished her story. He watched the slow nod of her head. “Josten.” Her eyes remained glued to the floor. “Ania,” he said. Slowly, she dragged her gaze up to meet his. “I hate you but I won’t ever hurt you,” he said. A small smile tinged her lips. Aaron could have sworn his soul left his body. Even tired and broken, Ania Josten was stunning. Not as stunning as Katelyn, of course, but she had her appeal. 

“Erin would kill you if you tried,��� she replied. Aaron huffed a laugh. She was right. Brother or not, Erin would never stand for him doing anything even remotely resembling what the two of them had survived. “You know, it’s 2 a.m., right?” Aaron cursed softly and Ania’s smile grew. “Get to bed. I’ll drive us home in the morning.” Aaron let her take the bottle from him and trudged up the stairs alone. He felt a shard of pain wrench his heart as he passed Erin’s room. Collapsing into his bed, he let his exhaustion drag him into sleep. That night he dreamt of dark red blood smeared across golden hair and pale wrists. 

---

Loving his sister was undoubtedly the hardest thing Aaron had ever done. In the three years that he’d known her, she had always shut him out. A lot of it made sense now. Her last brother had been a disgusting excuse for a human being. How could she expect Aaron to be any better? Sitting in the booth at the diner, Aaron found himself resenting the fact that all the Foxes were together. As soon as Erin was out of the picture, Kevin and his cousin had started cozying up to the upperclassmen. A pang of guilt always stuck him in the gut as he felt the Katelyn’s arm wind around his waist. As soon as Erin was out of the picture, he’d started cozying up with Katelyn in front of the others too. Didn’t that make him just as bad? That night he let Katelyn kiss him until his brain couldn’t form a single coherent thought. 

Laying beside her, he traced patterns across her exposed stomach. All of the cheerleaders were pure lean muscle. All except Katelyn. Unknown to most, her uniform hid a layer of fat on her abdomen. Katelyn had been self-conscious about taking her shirt off in front of him the first time but it hadn’t taken him long to convince her he loved it just as much as the rest of her. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” he’d asked. “It’s the world’s most heavenly pillow.” Katelyn’s bright laughter had filled the room as he rested his chin on it. Staring up at her, Aaron was convinced that he was staring right at the sun. Being so close to the sun would only burn him up and Aaron knew it. Hearing her laughter, Aaron decided that he wouldn’t mind if it was for her. 

Now as she lay sleeping, Aaron felt soft and sleepy himself. Warmth bloomed in his chest at the sound of her murmuring his name softly in her sleep. A thought cut through his sleep-addled brain. Could Erin ever have this? 

Aaron knew that his sister deserved someone who loved her more than anyone he’d ever met. But who? Kevin definitely wasn’t good enough for her. Matt seemed fond of her but that didn’t seem quite right either. Erin needed someone who understood what she’d been through. Someone who wouldn’t push her any further than she was willing to go. She needed someone who’d whisper her name like a prayer. 

There is someone, Aaron realized. His thoughts turned to a person with a smile that could easily light the stadium all on its own. A person who always took no for an answer, and so, was never denied a single request. A person who he’d once heard whisper, ‘Jude’ in her sleep like the prayer of a sinner on her deathbed. 

Loving Erin Jude Minyard was damnation itself. Aaron knew his sister was all hard lines and sharp edges. She was all vice with no discernible virtue but Aaron didn’t care. He had spent his entire life feeling sorry for himself, believing that there wasn’t a soul in the world more deserving of salvation than his own. From the moment he’d laid eyes on the empty shell of a person that Erin was, he’d known he was wrong. Never before had Aaron felt such shame as he did when he realized the depth of his own selfishness. 

Being raised by a drug-addict and her endless string of short term boyfriends only bought Aaron so many concessions and he knew he’d used them up long ago. Aaron’s self-centeredness had hurt more people than he cared to admit. He was no saint and he didn’t have any intention of becoming one. Still, some small part of him wondered if he lived out the remainder of his life trying to make amends for all he’d done before maybe, just maybe, he’d get to glimpse his sister standing behind the gates of heaven on his way down to hell.  

The next morning at practice, he watched a girl who’d once outshone the sun collapse into herself like a dying star, sucking up every shard of light and joy as she went. Watching her, Aaron began to think he’d found the only person who cared more for his sister than he did. Erin deserved better. He was sure of it but they were Foxes. They’d never get what they deserved. Settling for less was an art form that every one of them had been forced to master. 

Screwing his eyes shut, he prayed with sincerity for the first time in a long time. “Please,” he whispered. “Just let my sister be happy. Even if it’s with Josten. With Ania.”

[fire-emblem-heroes-supports]

Summoner/FH!M!Robin C-S Support

Written by @polast-u-s

C SUPPORT

(y/n): Hello, Grima. Do you want to share my umbrella?

Grima: Do you have no better employment for your time, worm? Leave me be.

(y/n): Thank you, I’ll take this seat beside you then.

Grima: …

[Grima glares but doesn’t budge from his spot. The Summoner ends up perched on the very edge of the bench.]

(y/n): Do you like the rain very much? You’ve been sitting out here since the downpour started.

Grima: I don’t recall asking you to babysit me, cretin. Or perhaps you’re labouring under the impression that I want company? How very touching of you, but you’re wasting your time.

[The Summoner smiles, which irritates Grima.]

Grima: All that stands between you and a painful death is that so-called divine weapon hanging from your hip. Rest assured that when the time comes I will give you the end you deserve.

(y/n): But until then you’re stuck with me, so why don’t we get to know each other better? By the way, could you scooch over a little bit? Then I could shelter you with my umbrella a little better.

Grima: Why bother phrasing your orders as requests? Neither I nor any of your ‘Heroes’ can disobey you.

(y/n): It’s true that I’m playing with the sleeping wyvern’s tail, as Cherche would put it, but that’s why I spend so much time with each Hero after summoning them. If I can get them to trust me, then there’s no need for Breidablik’s contract. 

[Grima snorts.]

Grima: Do you? How disgustingly hypocritical.  

(y/n): If I recall, you willingly chose to stay.

Grima: I have no intention of sharing the exquisite pleasure of bringing a world to its knees with that little Emblian brat. Once she’s been put in her place and squashed out of existence like the worthless worm she is, I can get back to… to…

(y/n): Grima? Are you okay?

Grima: My head feels like its splitting open…

(y/n): Oh my god, stay there! I’ll get a heal-

Grima: Don’t touch me! This useless conversation has gone on long enough.

(y/n): Hey wait! At least let me get you a hot towel!

[(Y/n) and FH!Robin have reached support rank C.]

B SUPPORT

(y/n): Grima! You had a headache the other day, and you’re sitting out here in the rain again! What if you get sick for real?

Grima: That’s none of your concern, human. If you have no orders or battles to entertain me with, then kindly remove yourself from my sight.

(y/n): I’m your tactician and all of the Heroes here ARE my concern, including you. If you’re not going to come out of the rain then at least come under my umbrella. I brought a bigger one this time for both of us to share.

Grima: I have no use for it.

[Grima starts walking further away from the main castle building.]

(y/n): Wait up!

[After a bit of chasing, they both wind up much farther away from the castle. Grima looks at a lone statue of a stone maiden.]

(y/n): Haa… Haa… You’re a lot… faster than you look…

Grima: I don’t understand why you insist on following me everywhere. Do you enjoy being insulted by me that much?

(y/n): Guess I’m just a stubborn old mule… Huh, why are you looking at her like that? Is she your type, maybe?

Grima: I won’t even deign to try and understand what you just said to me. Tell me, human. Is that statue what humans consider attractive?

(y/n): Um… In all this rain, I can’t really tell. She looks pretty enough to me. Why do you ask?

Grima: The humans in Plegia used to sacrifice one human female after another, thinking I would bring rain to them as long as they paid in blood. When they realized I couldn’t, they cursed me, tore down my altars… denied my existence in their anger, because I wasn’t useful to them.

[The Summoner turns towards Grima in surprise.]

Grima: Then they come running back to me when they go to war, asking for my help. ‘O mighty god of destruction!’ they say. ‘Rid the battlefield of our enemies! Do this for us, your loyal followers!’ Ha!

 (y/n): I… I’m sorry… I had no idea the rain made you so sad.

Grima: …Sad? There is nothing human about me, and that includes your repulsive human emotions. Besides, I made sure those humans remembered how much they truly needed me when it came time for battle.

(y/n): Grima, you don’t have to pretend for me. Your face says it all!

Grima: No mere humans are capable of provoking me. Do not look at me with those pitying eyes of yours, worm! That foolish face of yours looks just like those humans who were sacrificed in my name. The same mouth that makes too much noise, the same wide open eyes that look at me as though I could bring you salvation.

(y/n):  Um… thank you? I didn’t realize you looked at me so closely.

Grima: I remember those Plegian priests saying that only beautiful human females would do for sacrifices. But how would I know the difference? You all look the same, one soft, pathetic face after another.

(y/n): Grima, let’s go in okay? The rain isn’t doing you any good and you might really fall sick. Come on, let’s-

Grima: I wanted to see for myself what it was that those humans were so desperate for. I’ve… never experienced rain before. Is this what rain feels like? Is this what they cried and begged for from me?

(y/n): …

[(Y/n) and FH!Robin have reached support rank B.]

A SUPPORT

(y/n): So you actually CAN fall sick. I knew it! Achoo!

Grima: Curse this frail body. Why is it so susceptible to disease? Achoo!

(y/n): Look on the bright side… we’re both getting a free day to do anything we like now.

Grima: In this ‘infirmary’ that smells of dead plant matter, flat on my back and next to you? This is NOT how I envision spending a ‘free day’.

[The Summoner rolls over on their cot to face Grima in the next cot.]

(y/n): Was spending time with me really that bad?

Grima: …

(y/n): …

Grima: It was tolerable.

[The Summoner smiles.]

(y/n): Look, Grima. It’s raining again outside. Donnel’s going to be so happy, he says he needs plenty of rain for his vegetables.

Grima: The sound the rain makes against the window…

(y/n): It sounds nice, doesn’t it? A lot of people say it relaxes them.

Grima: It’s horrible and annoying.

[Grima closes his eyes and turns towards the window.]

(y/n): You’re a terrible liar, Grima. Achoo!

Grima: Be quiet. Drink that glass of water and still your tongue for once.

(y/n): Huh, when did you pour this out for me? That’s pretty amazing… But, Grima?

Grima: What is it now?

(y/n): When you go for a walk in the rain again, can I come with you?

Grima: …whether I say yea or nay has no effect on you whatsoever. Do as you please. Achoo!

(y/n): Don’t worry. I’ll never let you feel alone or forgotten again. 

Grima: Hmph.

[(Y/n) and FH!Robin have reached support rank A.]

S SUPPORT

[The door to the Summoner’s office slams open.]

Grima: You! What spell have you cast on me, (y/n)?

(y/n): Grima, you know I have no more magic than a garden snail. When have you ever seen me use a tome or a staff?

Grima: Then explain why you… you… you’ve been invading my head! Every time you come near me I feel ill! Have you cursed me to feel even more hatred for you than I already do?

(y/n): Ah… you feel ILL when you’re around me? I’m sure I take baths regularly and the areas in the Training Tower aren’t that muddy and gross. Oh man, Anna is gonna cut my pay just to fix this door…

Grima: Don’t turn away from me! You must have done something to me to make this body’s chest tighten every time I come near you! What annoying human disease is it this time?

(y/n): Either you’re still not completely recovered from that cold, or you… Hm.

Grima: Tell me!

(y/n): You’re in love with me maybe?

Grima: That’s absurd. The person I hate the most in this entire place is you, who follows me around endlessly and annoys me with your inane chatter.

(y/n): Fair enough. Anyway, if you’re still feeling unwell from that cold you should probably go see a healer. See you around, Grima.

Grima: Where are you going? I’m not finished with you.

(y/n): I promised Alfonse I’d go for a walk with him. Huh, the skies are turning grey again. Pass me my umbrella over there, won’t you, Grima?

Grima: You’re not going anywhere without me!

(y/n): What?

Grima: What I meant to say was… I… Why are you going for a walk with that idiotic prince when I’m right here?

(y/n): Hm…

[The Summoner starts walking away quickly.]

Grima: Stop right there!

(y/n): You’re not very honest with your feelings, are you?

Grima: I don’t know what you’re talking about! Blast! What’s with this accursed weather?

(y/n): Man, it looks like we’re both going to get sick again. This rain is really coming down. By the way, when are you going to let go of my hand?

Grima: I didn’t… This body just moved on its own!

(y/n): Well, since we’re out here anyway, why don’t we enjoy this rain?

Grima: Where are you running off to? Stop!

(y/n): Hey, you’re welcome to let go of my hand at any time, you know!

Grima: (y/n), you are the most infuriating, frustrating, annoying human I have ever-

(y/n): What was that? I can’t hear you over the rain.

Grima: I said you are the most infuriating human I’ve ever met, but you’re MY infuriating human! You are mine, and I won’t let you anywhere near that whimpering princeling!

(y/n): So you’re only open with me when we’re out here getting soaked, huh? Your shirt is pretty much see-through at this point, although my clothes are ruined too.

[The Summoner laughs and takes off their hood.]

(y/n): Haha, we’re both a mess! In more ways than one, I think.

Grima: You did this on purpose.

(y/n): I only wanted you to be more honest with me. But I don’t think I was bargaining for a full-on love confession.

Grima: It matters not. Now that you’ve provoked me in such a manner, I can’t let you go now. I’ll make you pay by making you mine.

(y/n): Is… this a marriage proposal? But you haven’t even heard my feelings yet!

Grima: Do you… not feel the same way towards me?

(y/n): I didn’t mean it that way! Don’t look so sad! I do want to be with you, I was just caught off-guard, that’s all.

[The Summoner hugs Grima, wet squelchy clothes and all. He slowly hugs back.]

Grima: So where do I start marking my scent onto you first…?

(y/n): What?

[(Y/n) and FH!Robin have reached support rank S.]

Confession Quote:

Grima: You have stolen my heart and peace of mind, so I want yours in return. You are mine now, and I won’t let anyone else touch you. This turmoil of emotions within me that grows when I’m around you… it’s fascinating and infuriating at the same time. You will stay with me until I truly understand it. Fret not, I will never let go of you. Be prepared, (y/n), you will never have another peaceful moment ever again. Now, come to me. 

[joanofsnarrrk]

Fic: Bad Girls Do It Well (Uncharted) - 10,000 words

SUMMARY: Chloe has never considered herself a particularly sentimental person (perish the thought!), but certain memories, certain snapshots in time have an inconvenient way of sticking with a person. After all, only two things have remained constant in her life, amidst the chaos, the adventure, and the danger: music and photography. And...perhaps adopted family along the way? Nope, no, absolutely not. Her sentimentality must have *some* limits, surely

So after actual MONTHS, I’m thrilled to have finally finished this! Awhile ago, Sony put out playlists on Spotify for the characters of Uncharted: the Lost Legacy (they were awesome!). Chloe's was particularly inspiring, and after finishing the game, I found myself really attached to the idea that using a camera to document her adventures was something she's done since the beginning. Please enjoy Bad Girls Do It Well (title from M.I.A.’s “Bad Girls”)!

Can also be found on AO3 - Fanfiction

Oklahoma, 2002 - Nate

I said to the man, “Are you trying to tempt me Because I come from the land of plenty?” And he said, “Do you come from a land down under?”

—Men at Work “Down Under”

“Would you put that away, and give me a hand?” Nate grits out, clearly not amused by this as much as she is.

“And miss out on this view?” Chloe bites her lower lip as she watches his boxerbrief-clad backside through the lens of her camera. He audibly groans at the sound of the lens shutter, and she’s powerless against her smirk turning into a full on grin. “Unlikely.”

She imagines he would throw her an exasperated look right about now, but as it is, he’s crouched on top of a radiator, toes gripping around the edges, while his unclothed torso—along with the rest of his upper body—is dangling outside the window of their fourth story hotel room.

She watches as he contorts himself unnaturally in an attempt to retrieve one of his Para 9’s that was accidently thrown onto the fire escape during what Chloe is referring to as a particularly enthusiastic bit of foreplay. Not wanting to further encourage the suspicions of the front desk manager with patron complaints of an unregistered firearm, Nate lunged after the gun almost immediately, nary a second thought to his own livelihood.

Initially, she had protested, but after watching him writhe about, his muscles extending and contracting every time he moved, she had to admit it was far more entertaining than whatever she could pull up on the telly.

She lets him struggle a moment more before snapping a particularly gratifying shot and adds, “If you consider me your moral support—and you very well should—then I am absolutely lending a hand.”

He ignores her, focusing all of his attention on retrieving the blasted weapon, fingers splayed in the hopes of extending just a few more centimeters. “Almost…got it.”

He flashes her a huge grin once he’s back inside, twirling the Para 9 in his right hand like he’s Steve McQueen, rather than the bloke who was just hanging out of the window in his underpants. It would be absolutely embarrassing if it weren’t so endearing.

“Are you impressed, or what?” he wants to know.

Chloe considers commemorating the moment on film, but suddenly, she really likes the idea of keeping it to herself. Something she can chide herself for being overly sentimental about later. She sets the camera on the table next to her armchair, careful not to knock over the radio, which is providing ambience in the form of 104.5’s eighties at eleven.

(“Is this your guys’ national anthem?” Nate had asked last night once they had collapsed onto the bed. “Down Under” was playing then, too.

“Mmm, yes,” Chloe hums with laughter, her hand tracing aimlessly on his stomach, her head resting comfortably on his chest. “We praise the Queen and country and the musical genius of Colin Hay.”)

In response to Nate, she makes a show of fanning herself dramatically. “Whew! You certainly had me—and the residents of Tulsa who bared witness to your little show—hot and bothered.”

Much to her delight, he rolls his eyes before turning his attention to the desk next to the radiator, the same one he had just vacated. His shoulder holsters (as well as his shirt) are draped haphazardly over the accompanying chair, and he carefully places the firearm back into its holder, snapping it closed.

“You’re a piece of work, y’know that?” he says with his back to her. She can hear the amusement in his voice, but she’s more interested in the patchwork of scars stretched across the broad expanse of his back.

“I distinctly recall there being less complaints where my behavior’s concerned prior to your acrobatic performance,” she replies offhandedly. As if sensing her staring, he turns around and leans against the desk, arms crossed over his chest. “Back when we were…”

Nate grins. “…Preoccupied?”

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Among other things.”

“Really?” asks Chloe with a raised eyebrow. “Because I was going to refer to it as ‘being-interrupted-by-a-roving-firearm-before-I-could-even-get-my-top-off.’”

His eyes darken in distraction as he takes in her appearance, and for the first time in…well, ever, she feels herself flush. It’s nothing scandalous—more coverage than a bikini, certainly, in her tank top and knickers. But it’s the harsh light of day and her hair is down, and for the life of her, she can’t recall ever sticking around long enough the morning after for firearm antics and flirtatious banter.

It’s bordering dangerously close to domestic, which should raise all sorts of red flags, but...well, she isn’t exactly running away, is she?

All red flags are blissfully swept away, however, when he closes the distance from the desk to where she’s seated and grips the arms on either side of the chair, effectively caging her in place.

“There’s at least one good thing to come out of all this,” Nate insists, not even trying to be subtle as he rakes his gaze over her from head to toe.

“Which is?” It takes every ounce of restraint she possesses to not break into an absurdly delighted smile. Instead, she brushes her fingers, feather light, over one of his lower arms, lingering far longer than necessary.

“That at least you know it wasn’t a gun in my pocket,” he clarifies, barely holding it together. “I really was happy to see you.”

Now it’s her turn to roll her eyes, which she absolutely does, with only a hint, mind you, of amusement. Nate’s arms shake along with his laughter, but his antics are effectively cut short when she sits up and pulls him into a kiss.

Nate’s jokes only get worse from there, but it doesn’t change the fact that they don’t leave the room for at least two more days.

London, 2009 - Harry

We’re hell raising And we don’t need saving ‘Cause there’s no salvation for a bad girl We’re rock bottom But there ain’t no stopping ‘Cause it’s you and me against the world

—Natalia Kills “Problem"

She comes back from Nepal with insomnia and a spare key for a flat in London that belongs to a dead man. There’s nothing particularly fanciful or noteworthy about the place, except that she spent a lot of time (a lot of nights) there researching and planning their steps from Istanbul to Borneo for Marco Polo’s fleet back when Harry…

…back when Harry was alive.

She can’t bring herself to sleep in his bed, so she sets herself up on the couch, but after two hours of listening to rain pelt against the front window and staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, she can’t take it anymore. She throws on a pair of runners and an ancient gray hoodie before heading out into the night.

It doesn’t take her long to find what she’s looking for. She spots the tattoo shop just up the road and turns into the adjoining alley, bypassing a couple of bins before walking down a small set of worn concrete stairs to the building’s side entrance. She walks inside.

Dim, flickering overhead lights expose a seedy gym underneath. There’s a roped off boxing ring in the middle, a few punching bags near the back, and wooden benches with free weights and barbells off to the side. No treadmills or ellipticals to speak of, but there is faint music coming in through tinny speakers around the room.

She heads toward the back, ignoring the unsettling leers coming from some of the male patrons as she walks by. It’s a little more difficult to block out the bald guy in the ring, his swear-laden diatribe directed at the bloke being pummeled, but Chloe manages.

There’s no one else by the bags, which suits her plenty. She wraps her hands, but before she can start, she feels her burner phone vibrate. It’s two messages—one from Nate and one from Sully. R u ok? Nate wants to know. Damn it Frazer pick up, is Sully’s less subtle text of choice. Chloe doesn’t have the closure or emotional maturity to deal with either of them at the moment. Not until she hits something, anyway.

She thinks about Nate’s stupid face, how he traded in death and bloodshed for picket fences and HOAs, while she was left to deal with the fallout of a dead partner, a-a turncoat. She cracks her neck, left to right, before slamming her fist into the bag. A jolt reverberates back through her arm, and it’s enough to light an unseen spark, to set her off.

Sure, Chloe thinks as she unleashes a series of jabs and hooks, Harry could be an absolute tosser, but she’s not entirely sure he deserved the way he went out. Hell, she’s not entirely sure anyone deserves to go out like that. Except maybe Lazaravec. He brought his demise on himself.

But, a small, resolute voice suggests, so did Harry.

She sinks a roundhouse kick, grunting when it lands. The arsehole didn’t even think—just pursued his own ambition, not caring what or, in her case, who became collateral damage.

She blinks as a drop of sweat lands in her eye, swiping at it before landing another uppercut. It wasn’t like she was in love with him (perish the thought!), but he could be charming and sarcastic when it was just the two of them. Admittedly, being with him didn’t require much acting on her part.

She punctuates her next flurry of hits with a muttered swear, and tries to gulp down air. It’s only then that she notices how her chest feels like it’s going to burst open. With an anguished cry, she lands an axe kick that somehow manages to break the punching bag from its chains and send it flying back a few feet. It takes her a moment to calm down, for her shoulders to stop heaving and her heart to stop racing, before she realizes just what has transpired.

“Oi, watch it!” The bald guy from the boxing ring vaults over the ropes and approaches, taking in the broken heavy bag and her disheveled appearance, soaked through hoodie and all. Up close, she notices the cleft in his chin and the scars across his nose and eyebrow.

She brushes the sweat-plastered hair out of her eyes. “Sorry, I—”

“Got swept up in the moment? Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that one before.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I dunno if you’ve taken the time to assess what type of establishment this is, but it certainly doesn’t have enough funds to cover property damage every time some lady’s off her nut.”

Chloe bristles at that and reaches into her pocket, too exhausted to call him out on his overt sexism. “Here.” She hands him 50 quid. “Apologies to the establishment from the knackered lady.”

He pockets the money, mouth lifting into a slight smirk, but he doesn’t apologize. “Y’know,” he says instead, “we run an amateur boxing match every week. If your affinity for property destruction can be equally applied to people, you should consider signing up.”

He hands her his card (his name is Charlie, apparently) before he hops back into the ring, presumably to continue his coaching efforts. The tension in her shoulders dissipates, and she shoves his card into her front pocket. Breathing steady once again, she wipes a hand over her brow and snaps a picture of the downed punching bag. She sends it to Nate and Sully.

I’m processing, she writes back.

Sydney, 2010 - Sully

The time has come To say fair’s fair To pay the rent, now To pay our share

—Midnight Oil “Beds are Burning”

“This easily could have been discussed over the telephone, Victor.”

Sully swivels in his bar stool and looks at her over his glass of scotch. His smile is visible beneath his mustache. “Would you believe me if I said I missed the hell out of ya?”

“No,” she responds emphatically, but her laughter betrays the hardened exterior she has worked so hard to uphold over the years. She absentmindedly stirs her own drink. “I don’t buy it. What I would believe more is if you said you were here on behalf of one Nathan Drake.”

She knows she’s spot on when his cheeks go slightly pink.

“Can’t it be both?” he asks sheepishly, which says a lot about their relationship and his sincerity because Victor’s not sheepish about anything.

She laughs. “I knew it! So what is it this time, hmm? The latest treasure hunt’s gone belly up, and Nate needs a couple hundred quid to bounce back? Or perhaps his latest adventure brings him down under, and he and Fisher need a place to crash? Is that it?”

Sully remains silent and pointedly avoids her gaze. It’s so uncharacteristic, Chloe becomes concerned that Nate and Elena may be in serious danger. “Victor,” she presses, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Just tell me what’s going on. Are they—?”

“Nate and Elena are getting married.”

Chloe nearly chokes on her spritzer. “Married?”

“Don’t act all surprised, Frazer. This was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Or perhaps,” she offers, “not at all?”

Sully clicks his tongue at that in an annoyingly condescending way. He pauses, shifting in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. “Don’t tell me you’re still sweet on him after all this time?”

‘Him’ meaning Nate. She doesn’t even have to convince herself anymore. She scoffs. “Hardly.”

“Good. Because for a second there…” He lets out a nervous breath, and slams back the rest of his scotch.

“Wait just a minute, I’m not supposed to be comforting you in all this,” Chloe insists. She motions for the bartender to come over. Before she proceeds any further, she’s going to need a much stiffer drink. “You’re supposed to be offering me false platitudes like, ‘she can’t possibly compare to you, Chloe.’”

“Oh.” Sully takes that information in. He scratches the back of his neck, and then lifts his gaze to hers. “…Do you need me to?”

“Of course not!” Chloe blurts. Mercifully, the bartender returns with her whiskey sour. She pouts, then: “But the gesture would have been appreciated.”

Sully smirks at that. “Forgive an old man his impertinence then, will you?”

They sit in companionable silence for a moment as Chloe nurses her drink. Sully’s turned around, his elbows resting on the bar top as he takes in the view of the beach behind them. When the bartender returns to settle their tab, Sully brushes her off and says he’ll take care of it. Unable to muster any energy to protest, she closes her eyes and relishes the feel of the sun on the bare skin of her back.

“Well, mazel tov to the happy couple, but why would this warrant an in-person rendezvous?” she finally asks when her curiosity becomes nearly insufferable. “Not that I’m complaining about the exceptional company by any means,” she amends.

Sully doesn’t answer right away, but when he finally does, it sounds like he’s tiptoeing across a minefield. “They need another witness, and when I suggested you as a potential candidate...well, Nate and Elena thought it was a great idea.”

Chloe lets that marinate a moment before she asks, “Who, if I may ask, is the other witness?”

Sully beams. “You’re lookin’ at him, sweetheart.”

“Should have guessed.” She sighs dramatically, letting her head loll back. I’m going to regret this, she thinks before she squeezes her eyes shut and blurts, “Fine. But I’m bringing a plus one. This bloke, Charlie, we’re working a job together."

Sully raises an eyebrow at that, but mercifully doesn’t say anything. He claps a hand on her shoulder and pulls his phone out. “I’ll let them know.”

“Wait.” She grabs the phone out of his hands, flips it open, and holds the phone out. “Here, move in closer.”

Sully puts his arm around her shoulder while she gives a thumbs-up with one hand and snaps their picture with the other. They’re both in frame when she looks at the phone screen (of course they are—what is she, an amateur?), so she hands it back to Sully.

“There. Send that over to Nate with the message that I’m in, but he owes me one.”

“From you?” Sully hits send and flashes her a smile of solidarity. “I would expect nothing less.”

London, 2011 - Charlie

So slide over here And give me a moment I’ve got to let you know You’re one of my kind

—INXS “Need You Tonight”

“Do you need any help?” Chloe hollers again, hoping her voice is loud enough to carry to the loft on the second floor. Selfishly, she hopes the answer is ‘no,’ as she has finally settled into the end of his worn, leather couch with a hot mug of tea.

“You’re incorrigible,” Charlie calls back, his voice muffled. She thinks he may have rolled his eyes, which, rude. “I’m fine. I broke my leg, not my executive function.”

She shrugs, causing her oversized jumper to slip off her shoulder. “Have it your way, then. Just don’t come crying to me when you fall and break your neck.”

The warmth from her mug radiates past her fingertips all the way down to her sock-covered feet. She closes her eyes, sinks further into the couch, and pulls her jumper back over her shoulder.

It’s good to be back on solid ground again, she thinks.

They were lucky to be alive after what happened in Syria. Once they were certain none of Marlowe’s agents had successfully tailed them, all three of them (excluding Charlie, of course, who kept groaning and swearing under his breath each time they hit a particularly rough patch of road) took turns driving until they were able to reach a small airstrip some distance from the main road and far away from the ruins they vacated.

(“An old work acquaintance. He owes me one,” was all Sully would say once they parked the tour bus, and he began leading them toward a dilapidated hangar.

“Which leads me to believe,” Charlie chimes in, hobbling and leaning on both Nate and Chloe to remain upright, “that no one we’re about to meet is licensed to operate a bloody tin opener, let alone an aircraft.”)

It was there that they parted ways. Nate and Sully boarded a relatively stable looking plane headed for Yemen, while both she and Charlie were stowed in the back of a run down cargo plane headed for southwest England, surrounded by caged chickens and other small livestock.

As it turns out, Charlie is exceedingly allergic to feathers.

It’s suspiciously silent before Chloe hears the labored sounds of someone trying to hobble down a spiral staircase. When she finally does open her eyes, she’s greeted by Charlie—red faced and wearing a cowboy hat and a pair of white boxer shorts with hearts on them. She has to stifle a disbelieving snort when he proceeds to sling his Danelectro guitar over his shoulders, allowing it to hang low on his hips.

“What are you—?”

Charlie turns his back to her and flips on his stereo, effectively drowning out the rest of her question. When he turns around—nearly losing his balance with his broken leg in the process—he pulls his hat down low and moves his hips in time to the music.

It’s a lot to taken in, but Chloe doesn’t fully dissolve into actual giggles until he lifts his gaze back to her, his brow raised and a wink at the ready. So slide over here, he mouths, hopping across the space in front of the couch with his only good foot, and give me a moment. Things enter into truly mental territory when he mimes playing his guitar.

“Are you insane?” Chloe demands. “The doctor said not to put any direct weight on it for at least a few more days.”

She tries to sound stern, but the smile that keeps breaking out on her face betrays her true feelings. She grabs one of the throw pillows to cover her face when some of his dance moves become slightly more…inappropriate. However, it does nothing to hide her laughter or the flush she feels up around her ears.

He pries the pillow from her grasp and tosses it to the side. “What can I say?” He gives her a come hither gesture. “There’s just something about you, girl, that makes me sweat.”

“Absolutely not,” Chloe says, shaking her head emphatically. She sets her mug on the nearest end table, right next to her mobile phone. Seeing it gives her an idea, so she grabs it, easily switching it to camera mode.

“Sorry, love.” She grins wickedly, not sounding even the least bit apologetic.

Before Charlie knows what’s happening, she snaps the picture. It’s a perfect still of him mid-hop, mid-lip sync, and mid-guitar solo. It takes Chloe breaking into fresh peals of laughter before Charlie realizes what has happened.

“Oi,” he cries, pulling his guitar up and over his head. He props it against the stereo. “This was meant to be a private showing.”

“And it will be,” Chloe assures him. A beat, then, “Right after I send this to Nate, Elena, and Victor.”

Charlie does his best impression of crossing the small distance between them in an intimidating manner. “Chloe,” he says warningly.

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, alright, fine.” She sets the phone aside and crosses her arms, pouting. “You’re no fun.”

“Oh, I’m plenty fun, darling,” he retorts, slowly lowering himself down onto the couch. He nearly loses his balance again, but Chloe crawls over to help, holding his arm to guide him. Once Charlie’s settled (“Bloody hell,” he grumbles under his breath.), Chloe reminds herself that she’s still holding on to his arm.

She makes an effort to pull her hands back, but Charlie snatches her right one, his grip sure. He turns to her, and one glance at his face tells her he has sobered, all mirth quickly gone. She swallows and tries to steady her heart, which begins beating absurdly fast.

Run, her mind tells her, but before she can obey or even protest, Charlie brushes a stray piece of hair behind her ear. His hand lingers, thumb brushing over her cheek.

“Sully would have killed me, back in Syria, if you hadn’t been there to stop me,” he finally says, voice barely above a choked whisper. She can hear the rawness, the slight waver in his voice, and it, frankly, terrifies her.

“Charlie, that’s not—”

He cuts her off. “No, it is. I was a downright mad man, and if it weren’t for you, Nate—“

“—is alive,” she finishes. With her free hand, she scratches her thumb against his stubble. He closes his eyes, pain evident on his face. “There’s no use in dwelling on what could have been. I was there, you weren’t yourself, and that’s that.” She pauses before adding, “In any event, I would have easily bested Victor. He’s incredibly old.”

Charlie lets out an abrupt bark of laughter before he forces himself to look at her again. It’s a new sensation for Chloe, being looked at with such adoration, that is. She’s not sure how she feels about it, only to say that the desperate commands to flee have simmered.

“Thank you,” he says. He searches her eyes for permission, and she nods imperceptibly before he captures her lips with his.

Run, her mind tells her once again, but she throws her arm around his neck, disobeying the command entirely.

One week later, during his follow up appointment, Charlie’s doctor gives both he and Chloe a long lecture about the need to avoid any direct weight on his broken leg. Chloe doesn’t even wait until the doctor is out of earshot.

“I told you so,” she tells Charlie proudly. His eye roll is nearly audible.

Glasgow, 2013 - Sam

I don’t want to go to school I just want to break the rules

—Charli XCX “Break the Rules”

There’s no reason Chloe should even be contemplating this. No reason she should even be here in the first place. It’s like salt and vinegar crisps: absolutely no nutritional value whatsoever, and yet...

…there’s no use in denying the insufferable do-gooder she has become.

A sea of writhing people, colorful, epileptic seizure-inducing lights, and pulsating bass: immediately, Chloe’s senses are assaulted as soon as she enters the club.

This has to be some kind of fire code violation, she thinks to herself sourly as she pushes her way toward the bar, serpentining through throngs of gyrating bodies and one particularly grotesque snogging couple. (“Excuse me!” she practically bellows at them, but they either can’t hear her or simply outright refuse to move out of the way.)

Finally, she reaches the bar. The bartender gestures to the glass in his hands, then back at her, but she waves him off. She wants to have clear reflexes and a sound mind for this particular meet up. Although she had insisted on a public meeting space, there’s still every chance for danger, never mind that she has no idea what her mark looks like. She imagines something like his brother, but that’s certainly not much to go on, is it?

“Now there’s a lovely lass,” she hears over her shoulder. “Curious that she’s all alone though, innit?”

Chloe turns just in time to see the stranger at the bar drag his gaze over the entirety of her person. He’s stocky with a bristly black beard and a terribly unfortunate complexion. She crosses her arms over her chest, doing her best not to shudder, and challenges him with a surly glare of her own.

“Perhaps,” she grits out, her restraint nearly in tatters, “it’s because she prefers solitude over the company that a man, such as yourself, is able to offer.”

In a magnificent feat, the stranger’s face grows even redder. When he makes an attempt to lunge after her, she can feel her heart pound in tune with whatever eurotrash music—noise, really—the DJ keeps churning out. Before the man can embarrass himself or do any lasting damage, another man enters the fray—his back to her—and keeps the other man from moving any closer by placing an outstretched hand square in the middle of his chest.

“Beat it,” the new guy says. He nods in her direction. “She’s with me.”

Chloe doesn’t even have time to enjoy the first guy’s harried retreat (she thinks he may have mumbled an apology, but it’s difficult to be certain with the heavy bass of the music bludgeoning her eardrums) before she rounds in on the new guy.

“I beg your pardon,” she blanches, her hand on her hip. “I am with no…one…”

Her speech falters once the new guy turns around, and she’s suddenly staring into a pair of hazel eyes (though, admittedly, it’s difficult to tell precisely with the uneven lighting). Everything, from the small bump on the bridge of his nose to the slight slope of his shoulders, overwhelms her with a sense of familiarity. She narrows her gaze at him suspiciously.

“Are you trying to tempt me because I come from the land of plenty?” Her tone is airy, but she chooses her words carefully, testing the waters.

“Do you come from a land down under?” he shoots back hopefully, eyebrow raised. In response to her visible relief, the tension in his own shoulders gives way, and he smirks, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Men at Work, huh? Do you do this for all your meet ups, or…?”

Apparently, all the good looks skipped right on down to Nate, she thinks idly. Not that Sam is horribly disfigured, by any means, of course. It’s just with his slightly receding hairline and his two-decades-too-old-to-be-fashionable jeans jacket, he’s not traditionally handsome like his brother.

“No,” she answers, hating herself slightly for her train of thought. “Only for known affiliates of Nate’s. Hazard insurance and all that, you know?”

He continues smirking. “Oh, I know.” A scantily clad woman stumbles past them both, brushing his shoulder as she steadies herself by grabbing onto the bar top. For what it’s worth, Sam’s eyes stay trained on her. He shoots his hand out. “Sam,” he says.

“Chloe.”

As they shake hands, she notices a couple of brutes dressed in oversized parkas just behind Sam. This isn’t her scene by any means, but even she knows that’s too much clothing for this kind of environment. They’re ideal for expertly concealing firearms, though. “Not that it isn’t a pleasure putting a face to a name after all these years, but why am I here, precisely?”

He starts to answer, but she’s barely listening, eyes still trained on the two overdressed men behind him. She watches as they push past the sea of people separating she and Sam from the two of them. It’s likely that they’re tailing them, but Chloe doesn’t want to stick around long enough to be certain.

She promptly grabs hold of Sam’s hand. “Let’s walk and talk, shall we?”

It’s less of a suggestion when she begins pulling him forward. “I—yeah, okay,” he relents.

It grows brighter and louder the closer they get to the center of the dance floor. She can feel a bead of sweat roll down her neck as they continue fighting through people, who are essentially packed in like sardines. Thankfully, the two thugs seem to be unable to bypass a particularly rowdy group of dancers when she glances behind her. It will give them enough time to regroup, at least.

“We’re being tailed!” she yells to Sam once they come to a halt. She has to avoid being hit by the elbow of a nearby dancer jumping up and down.

“What?”

“Followed,” she tries again, this time accompanying it by walking her fingers over the palm of her other hand meaningfully.

He follows her line of sight, and she can see the understanding hit him almost immediately when he turns back around. “That’s what I was saying earlier,” he yells back. “I’m in a lot of trouble.”

“Well, yes, I was able to deduce that on my own, but whatever for?”

A nearby group of girls nearly knocks Sam over, but he steadies himself by holding on to her hips. Almost immediately, he recognizes his error (it doesn’t actually require a reproachful look from her, but she tosses one in anyway) and lets go, holding his hands up for good measure. Sorry, he mouths, looking fully repentant.

“It’s a long story,” he hollers, narrowly dodging a wayward arm, “but I got roped into working for Rafe Adler—”

“Who?”

“Rafe,” he repeats, holding his head in a haughty manner and running his thumb over his index and middle fingers.

Money, she immediately thinks before making the connection between obscene wealth and heightened levels of tossery.

Ah.

“Adler,” she spits out distastefully.

Sam nods. “Exactly, and he’s got us searching for Avery’s—” He covers one of his eyes with his hands, curves the other hand into a hook shape, and mouths arghhh. “—treasure, which is why we’re in Scotland. The trail led us here.”

“Here, as in this horrible den of iniquity in Glasgow?” Chloe yells. They both have been forced into moving along to the music to avoid being hit by any number of the people dancing near them.

“No,” he yells back, barely holding back an eye roll. “St. Dismas Cathedral. We’re not supposed to leave the site, but I had to let someone know in case—” He swallows, the thin sheen of sweat on his Adam’s apple glistening. “—in case something happens. Which is why we’re here, here.” He gestures to the ground meaningfully. “Far away from Rafe’s goons.”

“Have you at least told Nate?” she hollers.

His whole expression falls. “I can’t,” he insists. “He—He already thinks I’m dead—”

Chloe lets out a frustrated groan, her head lolling back. “Of course he does.”

“—which is why I came to you,” he finishes.

“Well, you’ve done some abysmal covert work,” she yells back, her eyes focused just over Sam’s shoulders. He goes to check for himself, but she holds his face in place with both hands. “Our friends are heading toward us. We need to blend, pretend like we’re not dead as soon as they reach us. Follow my lead?”

Sam nods, rather than answering verbally. He follows her as she pushes forward, a little closer to the DJ’s table. When they come to a stop, she drapes her arm over his shoulders, and pulls her phone out of her jacket pocket.

“Hey! Everybody!” she shouts, switching her phone to camera mode. A few of the nearby patrons stop to stare at them. “This lad—” She gestures wildly at Sam. He sheepishly waves. “—just found out he’s going to be a father!”

Sam makes a choking sound just before everyone around them erupts into cheers and excitement. She has to pound on his back a few times for him to stop. When he can breathe again, she holds out her phone until the two of them are in frame, as well as a number of strangers wanting to wish the new dad well.

“’Baby’ on three, everyone!” she instructs. “One…two…three—baby!”

A chorus of ‘baby’ can be heard when she takes the picture. The cheers transform into an overwhelming roar as the patrons around them begin dancing wildly, slapping Sam on the back, and splashing drinks everywhere. It’s the precise level of pandemonium needed to make the brutes lose them. At least, for now, anyway.

Sam flinches as a particularly muscular guy claps him on the back in congratulations. When he moves away, Sam fixes her with an aggravated look. “Thanks for that,” he yells, his dour expression particularly hilarious in light of the glitter and champagne raining down on the two of them.

Chloe sighs dramatically, an infectious grin breaking out on her face.

“I live to serve. C’mon, mate,” she adds, brushing some of the glitter off of his face.

Just as she finishes, another bottle of…something douses both of them, and at its conclusion, Sam—hair soaked through over his eyes, mouth in a hardened line—spits out a mouthful like a tiny fountain. Chloe absolutely loses it as she grabs his hand and starts navigating both of them through the crowd.

“Let’s get out of here before your tail notices,” she barely gets out in between laughter.

Brussels, 2015 - Elena

We bury it, bury it, bury it And rise above

—CHVRCHES “Bury It”

It’s incredibly late—or really early, more accurately—when she gets the call.

The initial ring doesn’t even rouse her. Rather, she groans and turns over, pulling the covers over her head to block out the sound of snoring. But when it grows louder and more persistent, she grudgingly cracks an eye open, only to be blinded by the blue light filtering out from under her mobile as the vibrations cause it to skitter across the end table.

She takes a moment to reorient herself with her surroundings before carefully extracting herself from Charlie’s arm, which is draped across her waist, and wrapping a nearby blanket around her. Sufficiently cocooned, she grabs her phone and pads across the carpet over to the balcony off their hotel room, careful to close the sliding glass door behind her quietly.

She doesn’t recognize the number on the screen, but this is a new phone (the last one not only ran out of minutes, but also plummeted to the bottom of the Thames), and there’s every chance this could be a known affiliate.

She swipes up. “Hello?”

There’s silence on the other end, then, “…Chloe? It’s me, Elena.”

Well…shit, Chloe thinks rather unceremoniously, sinking on to the cheap plastic chaise lounge, pulling her blanket more tightly around her.

“Elena.” She hopes her voice doesn’t betray the sudden onset of fear sparked by this unexpected phone call. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

It’s not that the two of them don’t communicate—quite the contrary, actually. There’s the occasional e-mail and a handful of texts containing memes about their circle of acquaintances (the last one Elena sent was Chrissy Teigan’s cry face with the text: when he scales the building to enter through the 8th floor window but you could have picked the lock on the front door). They even follow each other on Instagram (in fact, she had just given a like to Elena’s last uploaded photo, the one of her new camera). However, they rarely speak over the phone. The last time had been—

…Well, the last time had been the night she and Nate separated.

There’s some shuffling on the other end before Elena responds. “Nate mentioned you were traveling, so I tried to time it correctly. Did I wake you up?”

“No,” Chloe insists, clearly stifling a yawn, “nothing less than bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on this end.” She hesitates before quickly adding, “Charlie, on the other hand, is still asleep.”

Chloe can practically hear Elena’s knowing smile on the other end. “How isCharlie anyway?”

They’re not even in the same time zone, yet she can still feel her ears grow hot. “He’s fine, if you must know,” Chloe relents, unable to stop the small smile that stretches across her face. “But now you’re clearly trying to distract me. Is…?” She hesitates, uncertain whether she will be able to stomach whatever Elena throws at her. “…Is everything all right?”

She hears Elena sigh. “Eventually, you’re going to have to give me some more details, you know that, right?”

Chloe rolls her eyes. “Obviously. But out with it, Sunshine: is everything okay? Are you and Nate—?”

“We’re fine,” Elena cuts her off, more hurriedly than defensively, which seems to bode well, in Chloe’s opinion, “or at least, we will be. We’ve decided to…leave the life.”

“Leave the life?” Chloe repeats, her voice hollow. She’s heard this one before.

“More like continue the life, but do it in a strictly legal sense,” Elena clarifies, “including permits, dig crews, no firearms, et cetera.”

Chloe snorts. “So…all things I’ve no patience for?”

Elena laughs at that. “More or less.”

“But this is something you want?”

Elena nods, or at least, Chloe assumes she does. “I suggested it, including funds for a really expensive camera and a small crew, so I can reboot Uncharted, my old show."

“And Nate’s on board with all this…gentrification of sorts?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Fascinating. I wonder what’s got him so generous all of a sudden.” Realizing how that comes across, she hastens to add, “Other than him being irrevocably in love with you, I mean.”

It sounds as though Elena has a retort for that, but instead she simply blurts, “Nate has a brother.”

The silence that falls between them is deafening. “Oh,” is all Chloe can manage—guilt slowly coiling in the pit of her stomach—before Elena launches into the story of what has occurred over the last couple months.

On the street below, there’s some kind of festival still carrying on from earlier in the evening. Colorful string lights dot the perimeter, while the sound of excited chatter and electronic music, as well as the smell of deep-fried smoutebollen, waft up to where she is on the fourth floor. Her stomach growls in response, but she ignores it, focusing only on Elena’s retelling of the events at King’s Bay, how she met Sam, and later, how they barely escaped from New Devon with their lives in tact.

“That’s actually why I’m calling,” Elena says, after she recalls the circumstances that led to she and Nate buying Jameson’s business for their new Stepford—rather than crime—inspired lives. “The last time we talked, you mentioned going back to India to…follow your father’s trail and track down the Tusk. Have you—is that still your plan?”

Chloe makes a choking sound, the question catching her completely off guard. “I—“ she sputters, shocked that Elena remembers any of that conversation at all. “Yes.”

“Since I’m basically retired, and since there’s no chance you would ask Charlie to come along…?”

Chloe glances through the window behind her, the outline of Charlie’s sleeping form visible. “Absolutely not,” she says emphatically.

Elena snorts. “I thought as much,” she admits, “but I think I have another option. The way Nate tells it, Rafe’s right hand man—Nadine Ross—abandoned them right as Avery’s ship caught fire. Questionable alliance aside, Nadine seems like a competent partner to have in the field.”

Chloe pulls her blanket closer around her, eyes narrowing, as a sharp breeze passes by. “And you know this because…?”

Elena lets out an unexpected bark of laughter. “Chloe, she kicked Nate’s ass. Not once, but twice over the course of our trip.” She pauses and then quietly admits, “There’s something especially cathartic about it happening on two completely different continents.”

Chloe wipes the tears from her eyes—a combination of laughter and the relentless wind. “Say no more,” she insists breathlessly. As soon as her teeth begin chattering, she decides it’s time to head back inside. “Do you have a way to get in touch?” she asks quietly, gently closing the sliding door behind her. She makes a beeline to the bed, sighing when the covers come up and over her frozen feet.

There’s a slight hesitation on Elena’s end before she suggests, “Call Sam. He probably knows how.”

It takes a moment for the unspoken meaning in her words to settle in, but once it does, Chloe’s face falls and her stomach plummets to the ground.

She knows.

“Elena,” Chloe breathes, her knuckles white and hands frozen in place as they clutch onto the covers. “I’m so—”

“I know,” Elena interrupts. Her tone isn’t angry, but it’s not exactly warm either.

“I wanted to tell you about him, truly,” she confesses, flinching at how desperate her voice sounds, “but I didn’t feel it was my place. I thought it should come from Nate, and—”

“I know,” Elena says again. “Listen—” she continues, trying to stifle a yawn in the process, “—I don’t want to interrupt your beauty sleep any longer than I already have, so…just keep me posted on your plans for India, okay? Oh, and tell Charlie I said hi.”

That makes Chloe chuckle. “Of course. And, Elena?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you,” she tells her, hoping her emphasis is enough to cover all multitude of her own sins.

“Of course,” Elena echoes.

The line goes dead, and Chloe is nowhere near satisfied with the residual guilt and accompanying broken record playing over in her mind, especially because she can’t seem to fall back to sleep. So she snaps a quick photo of Charlie (he’s sprawled out on his stomach, boxers riding low on his hips, and a small stream of drool seeping from his lax, open mouth onto his pillow), and texts it to Elena with the caption six minutes into Jet Lag & Chill.

She wakens the next morning to a three-crying laughing emoji response from Elena.

It’s a start.

Maharashtra, 2017 - Nadine

And I don’t really care if nobody else believes ‘Cause I’ve still got a lot of fight left in me

—Rachel Platten “Fight Song”

It figures that her hero’s journey doesn’t play by the rules in the least bit. Sure, she stopped the villain, survived all sorts of danger, and even walked away with the treasure. But rather than riding off into the sunset while the credits roll, as is tradition, she finds herself...pushing her ride off into sunset.

Because it bloody well figures that the battery would go dead here, three-quarters of the way up a hill, at the end of their journey.

“Do I have to do all the work over here?” Chloe huffs out. She sets her feet into the dry dirt and throws her whole body into her next push, powered by a second wind. “Or do you plan on stepping up in front of the wicket?”

Sam tears his gaze away Nadine (…which, Chloe doesn’t even begin to have enough emotional, physical, mental—etc.— wherewithal to address any part of whatever that whole situation may be), and shoots her a bewildered look. “Wicket?”

Americans, she thinks irritably before making it her top priority to reach the top of this God forsaken hill, if only to sink a fist into Sam’s incredibly punchable face. Up front, she can hear Nadine—who, in addition to pushing, is also gripping the steering wheel to guide the jeep forward—snicker.

“You mean, like, baseball?” Sam wants to know. “As in ‘step up to the plate?’ Because that—” He grunts, pushing into the vehicle, trying not to loose his footing. “—I understand. That I can—shit—that I can work with.”

His stumbling and flailing cause Nadine to burst into outright laughter. She tosses a rare grin behind her in Chloe’s direction. “I follow you, Frazer.”

“Thank you!” she cries. “At least someone is sensible in this group.”

“Yeah, okay, have your fun,” he mumbles petulantly, “but who do you know that collects cricket cards, huh? I’m feelin’ pretty confident that number’s a big ol’ zero.”

Chloe doesn’t trust herself to say anything further, so she sinks all of her physical and mental efforts into pushing the jeep to the top. Her back and legs are killing her, but the thought of a bath and dry clothes in Mumbai once they get this monstrosity up and running is enough to motivate her to keep going, keep pushing.

“Easy, easy!” Nadine calls back. “Just a little more, and we’re over the precipice.”

By some small miracle, they’re on flat land again, and instead of dirt and rubble in her line of sight, Chloe can see the cerulean sky above and a sea of lush green and brown vegetation below. With few clouds for cover, the sun beats down on them relentlessly, doing absolutely nothing whatsoever for the pool of sweat collecting at the small of her back and her chest. At this point, the dark sweat stains on her shirt resemble some kind of beginner’s abstract expressionist painting.

The vehicle settles into place absent the momentum, creaking to a halt. Exhausted, Chloe and Nadine lean against the jeep, trying to catch their breath. For his part, Sam circles around to the front and pops the bonnet. He coughs and wheezes as a plume of smoke unfurls from the engine compartment. Thankfully, it’s white, not black, which—according to Chloe’s very limited motor vehicle knowledge—is the better of the two kinds of smoke.

“I’ll take a look at this battery, see if I can’t get this thing up and running again,” Sam says. He disappears behind the bonnet, and it’s all very gallant until he adds, “You girls just stay there and look pretty.”

Nadine and Chloe exchange looks before they both break into disbelieving smiles. Pretty is certainly the last word Chloe would use to describe her current appearance. Perhaps artfully disheveled instead? Nadine gestures for her to follow her into the front of the jeep, which she does, and the two of them collapse into the driver and passenger seats.

“Are we certain we can entrust this vehicle and our livelihoods to this uncultured American?” Chloe directs to Nadine, but says loud enough for Sam to hear.

“You’ve already said ‘American,’” Nadine adds as an aside, “the ‘uncultured’ bit is understood.”

Sure enough, Sam chimes in with a protest. “Hey! I’ll have you know that I used to have a completely cherried out, 1962 Indian motorcycle back when I was in Boston, so I know a little something about cars. Just…let me have this one area of expertise, huh?”

“Okay, okay,” Chloe sighs as if it’s taking a lot out of her to grant him this request, “let’s allow this strapping man’s man to fix our ride home.”

She can’t tell for certain, but she thinks Sam might be frowning. “Thank you,” he deadpans from behind the canopy of the engine compartment, which only serves to make both Nadine and Chloe snicker quietly.

Silence falls over them (with the exception of the clink clank of whatever Sam’s doing to the jeep) as Chloe leans back against the headrest and closes her eyes to the overhead sun. It’s short lived, however, when Nadine speaks up.

“Sam—” He pops his head out to look at her. “—what on earth possessed you to get this ridiculous thing?” she asks, gesturing to the side of her neck that mirrors his, the one with the bird tattoos.

Chloe pops an eye open to witness his response. He ignores Nadine’s insult and instead clears his throat. “If you’re good, maybe I’ll show you my other tattoo.”

Chloe shouldn’t find his concluding wink so…visceral. And yet… “More than one?” she interjects, while Nadine mimes heaving up the contents of her stomach, accompanied by some over the top retching sounds.

He shrugs. “My cellmate was doing a buy one, get one sort of thing.”

Against her better judgment, Chloe laughs at that. His returning smile does absolutely nothing to her. “I can appreciate a man who recognizes a good bargain when he sees it.”

Sam returns to his work, but Nadine clearly has more thoughts on the matter. She turns to Chloe and jabs a thumb in his direction. “If that’s the case,” she says, referring to Chloe’s earlier comment, “I wonder what kind of bargain resulted in that floral shirt.”

The sound of the engine sputtering to life cuts off any protests Sam may have (and Chloe is quite confident he has more than a few). It doesn’t stop the sound of raucous laughter from she and Nadine, but it certainly drowns out a lot of it.

“See?” he says smugly, slamming the bonnet shut and approaching the passenger seat. “Told you I could do it.”

He goes to grab the door handle, but Nadine holds it resolutely shut. “Back,” is all she says, jabbing her thumb behind her.

Dejected, Sam hoists himself up and over the backside of the jeep and settles onto one of the wheel hubs with one arm draped over his knee. “What a show of appreciation,” he mumbles, somewhat bitterly.

“Now, now,” Chloe begins, shifting into first gear, but her knuckles hit a button on the dash, and she’s interrupted by the sound of the radio. And not just any radio, either: pop radio.

In English.

Sam’s the first to recover. “What the hell is this?” he demands, a look of pure disgust hilariously present on his face.

Chloe turns the dial tuner to other stations, but only finds static in response. “I have no idea,” she admits, perplexed. “Surely, out this far, you would expect something in Marathi, not this. It’s—”

“—it’s noise,” Nadine interjects sourly.

She goes to turn it off completely, but Chloe bats her hand away as soon as she recognizes the song. “No, listen,” she admonishes, the smile spreading on her face almost painful. “This is actually the perfect song to close out our adventure.”

“How? Is this—is this an American torture device?” Nadine tries again.

“No, this is a ballad of empowerment,” Chloe explains between laughter. Sam leans forward and reaches across to turn the radio off, but Nadine elbows him for his efforts. He falls back, coughing and wheezing. “I’m listening,” she says skeptically, a questioning brow lifted.

“Ow,” Sam hisses, rubbing the spot on his chest Nadine hit.

Chloe ignores him as she transfers the weight from the clutch to the gas pedal to begin their ride home. The resulting breeze, though warm, is wonderful. “Our journey has been one of growth and realizing untapped potential,” she explains. “Between Rafe for you, and Nate for me—”

“—eww, what?” Sam blanches, suddenly no longer interested in his chest pain.

“—we haven’t let anything come between us and our success,” Chloe continues as if he didn’t speak. “So this isn’t just our fight song, it’s our ‘prove we’re alright song.’”

“Our…‘take back our lives’ song?” Nadine asks tentatively.

Chloe beams. “Exactly! Elbows,” she says as she goes in for the high five, and their hands collide with a resounding smack. They both smile as Chloe digs her phone out from her back pocket. Using voice command, she switches it camera mode.

“Alright, everyone. Say ‘Tusk of Ganesh!’” she implores.

Sam sinks back onto his seat, arms crossed over his chest. “I hate both of you,” he’s sure to add.

The picture takes, and they don’t stop singing American pop songs until they cross over into Mumbai.

Florida, 2033 - Cassie

You ask yourself When will my time come? Has it all been said and done?

—Missing Persons “Destination Unknown”

“Is it here yet?”

Elena looks up from the stack of mail she’s leafing through on the kitchen table to see Cassie bounding into the living room, bouncing on the balls of her feet when she comes to a stop. She gives a small smile as she looks at one of the return addresses through her reading glasses. “I don’t know yet,” she tells her daughter. She offers the stack to her. “Do you want to look through?”

Cassie takes the proffered stack with a quick thanks and begins her own search.

“Is what here yet?” Nate asks, heading for the refrigerator with the intention of grabbing a beer. When he doesn’t see any, he grunts and grabs a vitamin water instead.

Cassie rolls her eyes at her dad (a behavior that has become increasingly common, Elena notes with a mild level of concern) before she explains, without tearing her gaze from the mail, “Aunt Chloe. She promised she would send something for my birthday.”

Elena frowns, placing her reading glasses on the table. “Cass, that’s not for another week.”

“Yeah, I know,” she agrees, “but Aunt Chloe always plans ahead—”

Elena and Nate share a knowing glance (his raised eyebrow makes her chuckle).

“—plus you have to account for international shipping rates and time differences, and—here it is!” she exclaims, holding up an abnormally shaped package wrapped in brown packing paper. Rather than tape, it’s held together with strategically tied twine.

“Hey!” Nate calls as she practically runs toward the stairs that lead up to her room. “I thought we were supposed to go fishing out on the boat today?”

“We are, Dad. Let me just look at this a second,” she calls back, her voice muffled by the floor of house between them.

Once she’s in the privacy of her own room, Cassie closes the door and flops down onto her bed. She examines the package a minute (her name and mailing address are written in Chloe’s scrawl, the purple ink a nice little addition) before pulling apart the twine ties. The contents of the package spill out once she finishes unfolding the packing paper. She reaches for the folded letter first before the enclosed CD case catches her eye. The cover is bright—there’s a blonde woman on the cover with wild hair, bright pink lips, and a swipe of blue over her eyes—and she flips it over to the track list.

“Cool,” she exhales quietly before placing it aside and picking up the letter again.

When she unfolds it, something falls on her comforter, but she ignores it temporarily as she reads the contents of the letter:

Cassie—

I hope this finds you in time for your birthday. I’ve been in Argentina with Sully and your Uncle Sam for the last few weeks. We’re supposed to meet up with Nadine and Charlie your Uncle Charlie Charlie in Morocco for a job, so apologies in advance if I time this incorrectly.

I pride myself in being the ‘cool’ aunt; however, I’d be remiss if I didn’t express some disbelief over the fact that you will be 16 this year. How time flies! I could launch into stories of you still in nappies, but I do not wish to embarrass you further (we’ll leave that to your father, surely?).

I don’t dawdle in sentimentality. In fact, I loathe it for the most part. However, a sixteenth birthday certainly calls for some level of sentimentality, even if we simply dip our feet in for a short while.

Cassie, you have grown into a remarkable young woman, and I very much look forward to whatever accomplishments you pursue in your future. You are incredibly fortunate to have the parents you do, even though I am sure their own accomplishments may lord over you, somewhat intimidatingly.

Here’s the shared wisdom bit: I’ve been the bad guy, I’ve been the hero, and I’m here to inform you that regardless which direction your path turns, there is always a chance for second chances. Always a chance for growth into something different, something better. If you don’t follow your parents already tread path exactly, there is still hope for you yet. You command your own way forward, and in the event that you make a wrong decision here or there, you are fortunate to have parents who truly love you and will help you get back on track. And for the truly bad decisions, you can always come to your Aunt Chloe. She knows a guy.

Or gal, in the case of Nadine.

Annnd…sentimentality over. Whew. Have the happiest of birthdays, love. Your Uncle Charlie and I plan to be back stateside close to the Christmas holiday next month. Until that time, when you must update me on that cute boy in science lab situation (the one with the neck tattoo, I believe? Which, please don’t take cues from your Uncle Sam), don’t do anything I wouldn’t do ;)

With love, Chloe

P.S.: I’ve enclosed a CD, which is an ancient form of technology that was used to play music in the late 20th, early 21st centuries. Do young people listen to CDs anymore? (Bloody hell, do young people even have to ask, “Do young people, etc.?” Please don’t actually answer that.) Regardless, this is a fantastic album by the Missing Persons (track 4 is a personal favorite), and I thought you might enjoy it as well.

Cassie sets the letter down and directs her attention to whatever fell out of the letter earlier. It’s a photograph of both she and Chloe from nearly a decade ago, Cassie thinks. Chloe’s crouched beside Cassie with her arm around Cassie’s shoulders. They’re both decked out in fedoras and bull whips—Cassie’s even wearing a tiny leather jacket. Cassie remembers the night pretty clearly, including when Sully secretly dumped some extra candy into her trick or treat bag. And then Charlie tried to kiss Chloe on the cheek, but she thought he was a stranger and ended up having to drive him to the ER later for a broken nose.

The memory is enough to make her smile. She flips the photo over and reads the caption:

Keeping up with the Joneses —2023

Her dad interrupts her thoughts as he calls out her name (pretty impatiently, actually). She quickly tacks the newly acquired photo next to some other family pictures—there’s one of her on Sully’s shoulder after a soccer victory in elementary school; one of she and Sam in sunglasses, trying to look effortlessly cool; one of she and Vicky in life preserver vests on the boat; one of Charlie teaching her how to play the Martin guitar he bought her in middle school; one of Nadine showing her how to properly land a punch; and one of she and her parents at Disney World (her dad looks so dorky in mouse ears and a Hawaiian print shirt).

“Coming!” she calls back, grabbing her fishing rod, and racing down the stairs to meet him.

[empty-dream]

Me watching Fate/Apocrypha ep 15

Wow that’s how the fortress look like in bright day. It’s magnificent.

Meanwhile in Red household, Shirou and Semiramis have to face the rebellious phase of their adopted children Achilles, Karna and Atalanta. While useless uncle Shakespeare is nowhere to be seen.

Karna is just the best roast machine ever.

Semiramis getting roasted by Karna and she doesn’t take it well.

Atalanta: “I have no compassion for a weak master” Achilles: “I am strong. So you have a compassion for me?” Atalanta: “Please clean your ears.”

Shirou’s voice is incredibly sweet and silk like, perfect for a person like him.

Shirou: “Kids, let’s all sit down and talk about each other’s future dreams, okie dokie?”

Achilles wants to prove he is a hero without any deconstruction whatsoever in Nasuverse.

Semiramis: “Aw that’s bland” Shirou: “Sssh do not sass here, honey’ Achilles: “Yeah but I’ve got gigantic ego just like yours, mom” Semiramis: “Are you all inclined to roast me everyday?"

Atalanta wants to save children. Atalanta wants to be a mama bear.

Semiramis: “That’s pipe dream, Atalanta.” Me; That’s rich. You support a guy whose goal is save mankind.

Dude Karna is so fucking extra.

Karna wants to be loyal. And fights Saber of Black again. And burns everyone who stand  in the way.

Shirou may speak like that but his insides all make calculations of how to possibly get rid of Karna he’s too dangerous

Is Gordes only around to roar with laughter and say “Impossible!!” or “Stupid!!"?

Holy grail for dumb wishes. Wow that’s some self-awareness going on Mordred.

Yeah corrupted or not, the problem with the holy grail granting wishes is if the method of the fulfilment is a disaster to mankind we have a very depressing Fate/Zero episode just for that.

Caules forgetting Archer of Red is so cute

"Atalanta: The power woman" Short lecture by Chiron.

Mordred: “Yeah after I chop Sieg’s head off” Astolfo: *stand on chair* OVER MY DEAD FUCKING BODY” Caules: *for a split second* Please, not now.

Chiron's Papa instinct is tingling

FINALLY the Forvedges arc comes!!

Thank God they animate this scene in the same location as the novel

“Mages are sinnamon roll. But Fiore is cinnamon roll too pure for this world.” -Chiron

Little Forvedges!!!

CRAP LIL CAULES IS CUTE

Lil Fiore is loaded with cuteness 300% than normal child.

The novel explains that the dog is skinned alive in front of Fiore and Caules and that’s fucked up

Also it happens because their dad wanted to show what happens if their magic fails and that’s how Fiore becomes flawless in her magic because she is so afraid of the failure that could be. She is so traumatized in her childhood she needs Caules to hold her hands just to sleep, and will puke at the sight of meat. Honestly? That’s a shitton character background not to be shown.

“After that incident with the dog, I made sure she never touched, saw, or even heard of the Fullmetal Alchemist.” -Caules, probably.

Caules: “Why do you care?” Chiron: “Because I am eternally a teacher.”

I almost thought Caules just made up some cool shit but then I think a bit and yeah that’s right

OH MY GOD CAULES IS SO CUTE GRINNING LIKE THAT I CAN’T

Dude, Chiron is just the embodiment of ‘Learning is forever"

He brings up Fran again :(((((

What makes it so sad and ultra sadder in the novel is that the thing that makes Caules-Fran team so great is also the very thing that burdens him when she’s gone.

Hell the novel narrates simply that he regretted that his servant is Fran, because from the beginning to end they could and had care for each other and that didn’t allow him to just nonchalantly shrug everything away.

No Caules he’s Eternal Professor Chiron he can’t quit from that and he won’t.

Yeah sleep you deserve the rest.

Mordred: “I thought transferring command spells would AT LEAST involve sprouting gigantic wings and sparkles and catchy dance while you blow it away to my master’s hands!” Jeanne: “….. You watch too many magical girl henshin”

Mordred vs Astolfo: Trash talk edition

Jeanne: “Use it just TWICE. Do NOT use the last command spell, okay?” Sieg: “Why?” Jeanne: “JFC “WHY"? YOU DIED TWICE, TRANSFORM TWICE, AND THIS IS NASUVERSE MIRACLES AIN’T FREE SHIT HERE” Sieg: “Maybe I can cheat around it.” Jeanne: “HOLY SHIT LISTEN HERE U LIL SHIT”

Jeanne: “…I can’t believe I’m kinda rooting for these two idiots.”

Why does Jeanne like to hold his hands? Like this is too many times?

KAIRI BACKSTORY IS SUCH A STUD.

“My ancestors thought they could get around with a devil’s deal and imo, they were fucking stupid.” -Kairi

They didn’t explain more about Kairi’s short-lived marriage that is, personally speaking, completely fucked up

At least they explain about his stepdaughter tho.

That is such a beautiful father-daughter bonding they are so similar it breaks my heart.

Mordred: “You remember your dead kid?” Kairi: “I won’t ever forget.” Mordred: “Sold. You’re my father now.”

Wow that’s a lot of hair to brush Jeanne I’d love to brush it for you.

Jeanne D’Arc, 16, The Maid of Orleans, experiencing first love.

Gordes, training to be a decent person, finally.

“We just want to play honorable magic real-life chess, not things like saving humanity and eternal salvation!” -Gordes

Female Leader Homunculus is just composed of savage comments and roasts I love her so much.

I’d like an omake of Gordes naming each and everyone of the homunculus and ran out of idea so he asked Caules to open babynames.com

Useless uncle Shakespeare visits AKA team and brings drama to their chill

Atalanta: “So do you think Shirou’s nuts?” Shakespeare: “Do you care if your protagonist is nuts or not?” Atalanta: “I knew it, you are nuts.”

It’s chilling that everything Shakespeare says in this scene, as grandiose and dramatic as he spells it, is perfectly reasonable within the context of storytelling and to my horror, I do agree with him.

Broken hero? Check. Lost everything? Check. Named a saint yet not a saint? Check. Wants to save 6 billion people which is such a grand number? Check. Guess what, Shirou’s story is fucking interesting.

On a side note, the trio makes the balcony their favorite hangout space like?? It’s precious as fuck??

Shirou: *ominous monologue*

DUDE I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR SHIROU’S COMMAND SPELL TO APPEAR IN THE TITLE.

I’ve always wanted to say this. Jeanne and Shirou’s ruler command spells each look like a pair of wings. While Sieg’s looks like a single wing. 

Next: Jack who?

[spencerrhstngs-blog]

oKAY SO LETS GET ONE THING STRAIGHT IF SPENCER GETS HURT AT ALL NEXT WEEK YOU KNOW WHO YOU HAVE TO ANSWER TO MARLENE KING I MEAN IT