#i just think into the future perhaps too much

[mercutio-the-velaryon]

Too much discourse time to cornplate...

Something about Mel slashing around a palette knife doused in red when she's painting Noxus, ellicting this sense of violence, and rage that of course shows her frustration with Jayce but also symbolises the inner conflict of her as a person (empath) and her as a Medarda. When Mel is in this quiet yet subtlely hostile state the strokes of red she applies to the canvas seamlessly blend in with what's already there but she instantly halts her assault of the canvas when Jayce tells her that Viktor's dying. Her empathy immediately overtakes her anger, her Mage nature overcoming her Noxian conditioning/upbringing which I think foreshadows her future actions in the series.

(This shot is also half submerged in shadow and half in light - once again reaffirming Mel's internal conflict, you could argue because Jayce is literally on the light side that his presence indicates that he is consequential perhaps a harbringer of her good-naturedness and empathy and what not)

Also of note, Mel completes (or defiles) the painting with broad brushstrokes of gold, her colour, her magic, her empathy.

These brushstrokes quite literally look like her magic. The gold accents are smooth and fluid and have very obviously not been made with a palette knife. Its splattered so passionately and interrupts such a triumphant vision of her homeland; Its a fervent rebellion against her mother, her roots and her upbringing but I think it also serves to hint at her eventual return to Noxus, where I believe, her empath nature will be tested and will win out in the end; she will figure Noxus out, but she will not conform to the ideals of others.

(Me getting emo because Mel's magic looks like brushstrokes, she's just a painter at heart man I'm drinking tonight)

[allthesethingswillendsoon]

Long, long time

CHAPTER THREE: Just before everything changes

SUMMARY: Elementary school is over, forever, and the girls are both excited and terrified at what the future looks like. They’re both coming to terms with growing up and what they have to give up in order to move forward.

NOTE: I wrote this one in a much more timely manner than the last one. I also think this one is infinitely better than the other two, and it's almost double the length, kind of. This one is definitely dialogue heavy, specifically in the last bit, so if you don't like that then sorry. I think the next one will be more internal monologue stuff as opposed to real life events. Also I think I might have messed up the dates a bit because I'm not from America so I don't fully understand the school system and how old everyone is, so I'll probably go back later and amend any issues. But I'm really not sure how I managed to mess it up because I made a timeline and everything, but whatever, what can you do? Once again thanks for the support :)

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Warnings: Mentions of parent leaving, angst, periods (?) 5.3k words Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

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27th of MAY, 2014

OAKRIDGE VIRGINIA

Elementary school, it had come to an end almost as quickly as it had begun.The years had passed mostly without incident, Paige and Azzi growing impossibly closer with each day that passed.

So, to celebrate the end of the school year, the Fudds and the Bueckers had decided to spend the night in their local diner. 

It was a small little place, tucked away next to the more industrial area of town. Bob always brought his own homemade food to work, but the young men that he employed were frequent customers of the little spot, being fans of the cheap, filling meals, or the pretty, young waitresses, or both in some cases. 

Tying with Applebees, the diner was pretty much the nicest place to eat in town. So, everytime anything happened that was worth celebrating, the Bueckers-Fudd clan would find themselves shoved into their favourite circular booth in the back corner. Though they would never admit it, the booth was much too small for the seven occupants, four of which were growing at an alarmingly fast rate. But nonetheless, they squashed themselves in, bodies pressed tightly together, yet not tight enough to be uncomfortable.

Tim called over their favourite waitress, Cathy, a no-nonsense southern lady,  who miraculously appeared to be both twenty and sixty at the same time. Her painted red lips twisted into a smile at the sight of her favourite customers, “Well hello, what can I get y’all?” Every time it was the same thing, her southern drawl filled with nothing but warmth.

The second the words left her mouth a chorus of young voices sounded out across the table, all fighting for their voice to be the loudest.

“Ummm can I get the pancakes!”

“I’ll have the nuggets, and a strawberry soda please.”

“Ooh! Ooh! I’ll have the fried eggs and bacon!”

“Cherry pie for me please, lots of ice cream on the side too.”

Perhaps an amateur waitress would’ve been overwhelmed by the barrage of requests, but this certainly was not Cathy’s first rodeo, and she wrote them all down with ease. The taking of their order was more of a formality than anything, the two families had slid into that booth more times than any of them could count, and ordered the exact same thing every time. The day Tim Fudd ordered anything other than the beef burger with a side of pickles would be the same day that pigs flew.

“Alrighty folks, that’ll be out in a few!” She said with a smile as she walked off to put the order through.

It only took seconds after she left before the complaining had already started, “I’m hungryyyyy!” Jose groaned.

“That’s why we just ordered, you stupid poop face.” Jon had retorted, punctuating his statement with a knock to Jose’s head.

“Watch it boys.” Tim had warned, purposefully ignoring the smug smile Jose gave to his brother next to him as he elbowed him in the ribs.

The conversation flowed easily, the adults fell into easy conversation, Paige and Azzi talking about whatever was piquing their interest at the moment, and the two brothers roughhousing just subtly enough that they wouldn’t get in trouble for it.  

When the food came out the table fell into a comfortable silence as the kids in particular scoffed their meals down like they had been starved of all food for the past five centuries. Once their appetites had been satiated, and they had entered a mild food coma, Katie spoke to the girls, “So, our big elementary school graduates, do you guys know what you want to do after high school?”

“Yeah, same as always, I’m gonna work with dad.” Paige responded, it was a given at that point, the dream she had had since childhood was not changing anytime soon.

Azzi, however, was a different story, she had always been indecisive, bouncing from one career aspiration to the next, consistently changing her favourite song. There were a lot of things she was unsure on, but there were also some things she was dead set on. She knew her favourite colour was pink, and that a close second was rainbow (Which was a real colour if you asked her). She knew Olaf was the best character of all time, and that unicorns were the best animal, even if there was no ‘proof’ that they were real. But most importantly, she knew her best friend was Paige Bueckers - a fact that Paige took great pride in, considering Azzi’s indecisive nature.

That very trait was what made her statement so outlandish, “You guys know what I wanna do, it’s been the same for like forever.” She had said it with such confidence, that for a moment the table went silent, guilt washing over them at not remembering her apparent, long time aspiration.

That was until Jon burst out with laughter, the rest of the table following suit as the absurdity of the young girl’s comment settled over the table.

“What?” Azzi pouted, eyes darting from person to person as they laughed hysterically at her. Even Bob, who was never one to poke fun at someone, was chuckling lightly.

“You change your mind, like, every week hon.” Katie explained, still slightly breathless from her laughing fit.

“No I don’t!” She tried to defend herself, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her chin up indignantly.

“You do.” Jon stated matter-of-factly.

The young girl was growing frantic, confused as to why no one was refuting the absolutely insane claim. But surely her best friend of many years would defend her, right?, “Paige? back me up!” She begged, eyes boring into Paige, trying to gain her attention.

Paige avoided her pleading gaze, trying to keep a neutral expression, but no one missed the little smirk that appeared on her face, “Sorry Az, they’re right.”

Feeling as if she had been stripped of her dignity, she continued with a huff, “Well I want to be a teacher, like I said on Heroes day.”

“Like Miss Honey.” Jose chuckled.

“Yes. Like Miss Honey.” She hissed back.

“Literally the week after that you went on and on about how you wished you would’ve been an astronaut instead.” Tim reminded her, putting a sour expression on her face as she realised she had been proved to be quite the undecided personality.

“Whatever!” Azzi snipped. Her annoyed facade only lasted a few moments before her conversation with Paige started up again.

Once again they settled into their usual chatter, laughter bouncing off the walls of the slowly-emptying diner. Sat there in the squishy booth, a feeling of familiar contentment washed over the group, a warm glow erupting in each person’s chest. From the outside eye they may not have looked like a traditional family, but they knew in their hearts that they were the truest family out there, and that was what really mattered.

It was time for close, Cathy always let them stay right up till the end of the night. She’d start the closing clean and that was their sign that it was time to wrap it up. As she wiped down the tables and mopped the floors with a practiced ease, the group cleared their table and brought their plates and scraps up to the kitchen window where they passed it off to the dishboy with a cheery “Have a good night!”. 

When it came to the bill, there was always bickering between Bob and the Fudds. They had been so many times it was impossible to keep track of who paid last, yet no matter who won the squabble and got to put their card down, Cathy was sure to get a generous tip.

They spilled out onto the street, both dads slightly fumbled as they searched for their car keys under the dim light of the street lamps that lined the neighborhood.

As they sat on the curb outside the diner Paige and Azzi made a promise.

“This is gonna be our best summer yet.” Paige assured Azzi.

“Promise?” The curly-haired girl questioned, bringing her pinky finger out to the space between them.

Intertwining her pinky with Azzi’s, the blonde spoke again, “Promise.”

—------------------------

SUMMER, 2014

OAKRIDGE VIRGINIA

True to their promises, the summer before sixth grade had been the best of Paige and Azzi’s life.

Their parents had let them ride around on their bikes from sun up to just after sun down, and the girls were sure to make every minute of glorious, sweaty summer freedom count. They spent days upon days riding around aimlessly, going from street to street, ignoring the burning in their legs and the summer heat on their faces.

It was a kind of freedom they’d never felt before. A glorious, glowing kind that Azzi was sure to dangle in front of her brothers mockingly. But it was also the kind that felt like giving up their childhood at the same time. They had more responsibilities, both girls had their own set of house keys, a trust bestowed onto them by their parents that sent shivers down their spine at the thought of the sheer importance the keys held.

Change felt imminent. A deep-rooted anxiety that everything would be changing soon settled into the back of each girl’s mind. Perhaps they knew the other felt the same fears, perhaps they didn’t know. There truly was no way of knowing if the worries plaguing the two were shared, as both refused to speak them aloud, not wanting to waste breath on their concerns, in case doing so actually did bring them to life.

Yet at that same time, it was summer, and if there really was some ‘big-bad’ lurking around the corner, then the least they could do is enjoy the good times while they lasted, right?

One particularly boiling day, the pair rode to the lake on the outskirts of town and spent all day skipping rocks and swimming in the blue water to escape the temperature. Time was a thing of the past on that day, any thoughts of returning home before dark absent from the girl’s minds, fully focussing on savouring every minute of fun together. Only when the sun began to set, bright blue skies giving way to softer, orange-pink hues, did they realise they were a thirty minute bike ride away from home, and minutes away from being past curfew.

Scrambling onto their bikes like madwomen, they cycled faster than anyone had ever cycled before, turning the thirty minute bike ride into a twenty minute one. That feat, however, did not matter to either girl’s parents as they returned to their respective houses after their curfews. 

For the longest week of their life, they had both been banned from riding their bikes, stuck in their houses, or in the very few places they could be bothered to walk to. Despite the punishment they were still able to do whatever they wanted, opting to watch disney movies all day under ceiling fans with ice blocks galore waiting for them in the freezer.

Days rolled into nights which rolled into an endless slew of days and nights, practically each minute spent together, living inside each other’s skin. It was a dream. Getting to spend every waking second of the day just a walk across the street away.

It hadn’t all been fun though, Bob had insisted on going ‘home’ to visit their family in Minnesota. Paige thought it was silly, a sentiment she shared with Azzi, who mainly just wished that her best friend could stay with her the whole summer.

“It’s just stupid really. I mean I don’t even know them! The most I talk to them is when we call on Christmas and on birthdays!” The older girl had complained as she had stomped around her bedroom, chucking as many clothes as she thought were suitable for a five day trip to Minnesota.

“Yeah, I agree, your dad should just let you stay with me… Or let me come with you!” Azzi had replied from her spot splayed out on Paige’s single bed.

“That’s such a good idea, I’ll ask dad about both!” Paige had grinned back, sure that their plans would be approved by her dad.

Unfortunately for the girls, Bob had said no to both options with a disbelieving laugh that Paige had taken great offense to. So, for the first time ever the two were away from one another for more than three days, it was the longest they had ever been apart. Azzi complained to her family day after day in her best friend’s absence, and Paige spent the whole car ride to Minnesota groaning in pain, stating that she was “fading away” the further she got from Azzi.

Miraculously, both girls somehow managed to survive the five torturous days spent states apart, but due to the holes in their hearts that had formed in each other’s absences, they simply had to have a five day long sleepover to make up for the lost time, alternating houses each night.

—------------------------

3rd of SEPTEMBER, 2014

OAKRIDGE VIRGINIA

It was the night before, the night before the first day of middle school. The girls had begged their parents to let them have a sleepover the actual night before, but they had been quick to shut the idea down, knowing that either the pre-school nerves, or each other, or both would keep them up into the early morning hours, leading to two sleep-deprived pre-teens.

So. begrudgingly, they had settled on the night before, the night before.

Paige had spent all day school shopping with her dad, and was feeling like her head might fall off if she had to spend another minute in the uncomfortably bright changing rooms of a JC Penny or Old Navy shoving herself into a sweater near-identical to the past twenty she’d tried on. 

Yet somehow, the worst part of all was the stationary shopping. Being a single dad meant Bob had obviously taken on the role of both parents. So, that meant that school supply shopping was all on him, and he had taken it upon himself to make sure that Paige had the exact brand and make of each item listed on the school list. A lesson he had learnt when he had sent her to the first grade with an arsenal of black and blue pens, and not a single coloured pencil in sight, having neglected to look at the school issued list. It had ended in a phone call home and a red-faced Bob scrambling to find lead pencil in the ruins of the post-back-to-school-sale Walmart.

Although Paige appreciated her dad’s commitment to the quality and uniformity of her educational utensils, it did turn him into quite the Karen. Every single time he couldn’t find the exact item they were looking for he would call over a (likely underpaid) teenage worker, who really couldn’t care less, and near-force them to scour every inch of the store in search of the desired item. They’d always been able to find whatever it was, and Paige lived in fear for what would happen the day an item was out of stock, but that was a problem for future Paige.

For some reason, God decided Paige hadn’t suffered enough in one day, and sent every school parent and every colleague and every person Bob or Paige had ever met was at the mall on that very day. It felt impossible to move more than twenty feet without running into a chatty, well-intentioned acquaintance, who just happened to feel like spending, at minimum, five minutes saying things like, “Wow! How tall are you now Paige! I remember when you could fit in my arms” or another classic “Middle school, really? You’ll be picking a college before you know it!”. They were nothing but nice to her, so she was nothing but nice in return, which really just made the whole situation worse because it made them think she really did want to talk to them about their cousin’s neighbour’s son who’s “Just around your age!”

Despite the trials and tribulations of her day, the light at the end of the tunnel remained, Azzi (also her dad let her get a hot pretzel before they left which was really nice).

On the other hand, Azzi was lucky enough to have gone school shopping in the five gruelling days that Paige was away. Stocking up on pens and books and shirts and socks was a pain to do for one kid, but to do it for three? Safe to say, Bob was sure to always commend Tim and Katie on their valiant efforts of rounding up the kids for school shopping.

So instead of being soft-tortured in the mall, she had been run ragged by her brothers. They had so cruelly forced her to run around under the blaring summer sun through the sprinklers for hours and hours. They had played a variety of games, everything from flag football to soccer to basketball. Even games you’d think you couldn’t play with only three people they were able to do.

She was nearing the age where she would start to feign annoyance at her brother’s constant attempts to gain her attention, but she wasn’t quite there yet. Though her parents knew her well, and predicted that even when she went through her phase of faux-annoyance she would likely fail to avoid spending time with her family, after all she was definitely a homebody at heart.

Azzi’s only refuge from the summer heat had come in the form of lunchtime, when she was able to go inside and chow down on hot dogs and homemade lemonade. She reapplied her sunscreen diligently, trying her hardest not to miss a spot, wanting to avoid the sting that came along with a sunburn.

Unfortunately, despite her best efforts, by the end of the day her skin was pinking, feeling just raw enough to make her clothes feel like fire on her skin.

All of Azzi’s sunburnt discomfort, and Paige’s shopping-induced weariness faded when Paige and Bob knocked on the Fudd family door.

The two girls ran into each other’s arms as if they had been reunited after years, not after the actual, mere twenty-four hours they had spent away from one another.

After a bit of adult chatter, Bob took his exit, wrapping Paige in a bear hug before he headed home for the night.

Following a classic Fudd Saturday night meal of spag-bowl and garlic bread, the girls had changed into their pajamas and were readying themselves for bed.

Paige had gone to the bathroom, double checking her bladder really was empty, that way she wouldn’t be woken up needing to pee, definitely not because she was scared to make the walk across the hall to the bathroom in the darkness.

Azzi was sitting at her desk, fixing up her hair when she heard her name being called softly yet urgently from the bathroom.

“Az! Azzi! Azzi!” Paige’s frantic whispers were growing more and more desperate. The older girl diverting from her relatively chill demeanour sent alarm bells to Azzi’s mind.

She nearly sprinted to the bathroom door where Paige’s head was sticking out.

“What’s wrong Paige? Tell me? What happened?” From all that Azzi could see of Paige, the only thing concerning was the troubled look on her face.

“Can you get your mom Az, please?” Paige pleaded, her voice wobbled almost inconceivably, but Azzi caught it.

“C’mon Paige, I can’t see anything wrong. It can’t be that bad, seriously, just show me.”, bringing her hand up to the door to push through.

“NO!” Paige yelled, swatting Azzi’s hand away. She seemed to shock herself more than Azzi with her sudden outburst.

She took a deep breath and started over, “Sorry Az.” She paused again, as if trying to hype herself up before continuing, “I think I got… I think… I think I got my y’know…”

Azzi thinks, her brows furrowing as she tried to think of what Paige was talking about.

“You got your what?” She questioned, after a moment of contemplation.

“My period.” The words that had left Paige’s mouth stunned Azzi, she had suddenly lost her ability to speak, which only distressed Paige further.

“Earth to Azzi?” Paige said, waving her hands in front of Azzi’s face.

Snapped back to reality, but still in a bit of a daze, she responded, “Yeah?”

“So can you get your mom now please?” Paige half-begged, the conversation having been drawn out far longer than she had anticipated. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure, one second.” Azzi mumbled as she walked off to her parent’s room.

A moment passed before she came back with her mom, the bathroom door now shut, Paige having bunkered herself down inside.

Katie motioned for Azzi to go, who protested, really thinking she could be of help, but her mom shut that down, staring her down till she stomped back to her room.

Knocking softly on the door, she whispered, “Paige honey, it’s Katie, can you let me in please hon?”

A minute of silence passed, punctuated by the light sound of sniffling and shuffling before the door creaked open, a red-rimmed-eyed Paige standing before Katie.

“Oh honey.” Katie soothed before wrapping Paige into a tight, bear hug.

Azzi listened from behind her door, and despite how her heart ached hearing her best friend in distress, it also made her heart beam to know that she was like family not only to herself, but to her mom, and her dad, and her brothers.

Katie was a great woman, and Paige knew she saw her as an almost second daughter. Yet, as she sat on the toilet lid, watching in half-confusion, half-horror as the older woman explained periods and uteruses and pads to her, she couldn’t help the overwhelming wave of sadness that washed over her.

Paige didn’t have much experience with having a mom, but she knew that getting your period was obviously something that you were meant to tell your mom, and not your best friend’s mom. She couldn’t help but feel like a core, mother-daughter bonding moment had been stolen from her, because it had. 

Was it the kind of thing where you ate chocolates together and cried? Or did you watch some old rom-com together? Paige’s nan, or rather her mom’s mom, loved ‘Sixteen Candles’ and said she and Amy used to watch it at least once every year. If her mom was there would they have eaten chocolate and ice cream and watched ‘Sixteen Candles’ and cried together?

It wasn’t fair that she didn’t have a mom that cared enough to stick around. But as Katie walked her into Azzi’s room, the younger girl rushed up to them and pulled them into a tight group hug. 

She didn’t know what it was like to have a mom, but in that moment she remembered that she did know what it was like to have people choose to unconditionally love her, and suddenly the things she didn’t have mattered a little less.

—------------------------

 They had decided to hop into bed early, considering the eventful night Paige had had, and the tiring days both girls had experienced.

From her bed Azzi broke the comfortable silence with a question that had been playing on her mind since she had been sent to wait in her room for Paige, “Soooo, how does it feel to be a woman now?”

There was a pause as Paige took a moment to think, before her voice sounded out from her place on the mattress on the floor, “Uh… I don’t know… it feels the same to be honest.”

Paige’s response slightly shocked Azzi, who had been convinced that getting your period turned you into a fully new person, “Really? I’m kinda scared to get my period.”

“It’s fine Az, I was just being a baby, you don’t have to worry.  Besides, your mom will be there to help.” Paige explained. Though she couldn’t see her face, Azzi was sure that her best friend had her signature light pink dusting of blush across her face as she thought back to her little outburst in the bathroom earlier.

“Yeah, she will be,” Azzi nodded, before she thought out loud, “I wonder how many girls in our grade have gotten theirs over the summer, probably lots.”

“Mmm, maybe, no way to know really.”

“I guess. It’s weird though, don’t you think? Just like growing up, the whole idea of it.”

Paige hummed in agreement, “I think it’s just a part of life. You can’t stop time. If I could, I'd probably just stay here forever.”

Azzi thought of Paige's statement, before she realised a fatal flaw to the plan, “But then you’d have to be on your period forever.”

“I wouldn’t mind though, cause I’d get to be with you forever”

The earnest words brought a soft smile to the young girl’s face. It could be easy to forget how sentimental Paige could be. She was really similar to her dad, in the way she had a seemingly tough exterior, when in reality she was one of the most emotionally intelligent, down-to-Earth people Azzi knew.

Instead of saying something of equal sentimentality, she opted for something a little more light-hearted, “Such a sap for me P.”

Paige rolled her eyes with such intensity it was almost audible, if that were even possible, “Nevermind I change my mind.” 

Azzi laughed lightly at Paige’s response, “Noooooo, stop. I’d stay here forever too.”

Instead of responding, they giggled a little, before they fell into a comfortable silence, both girls staring up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to overtake them when Azzi spoke quietly, “Do you think we’re ever gonna look back on this moment when we’re older and wish we could go back?”

“Maybe, everything is pretty good right now.” Paige whispered back after a moment of contemplation.

The younger girl hums in agreement, “Yeah, everything is great.” She went silent for a moment, before she added, “I hope things are always this good between us.”

Azzi’s words shocked Paige, taking her aback, “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t they be?”

Frowning, she explained, “I don’t know… just… sometimes people grow up and they just don’t like each other that much anymore. And like spending time together feels like a chore and stuff. And then they either stay and make each other miserable, or just leave and be miserable separately.”

Paige’s silence consumed the room for such a long time that Azzi had to turn to look down at her and check if she was awake. Her breath was soft, and Azzi could see the glow in the dark stars reflecting in Paige’s eyes as she contemplated her statement.

She took a deep, shaky breath before she asked, “Do you think that’s how my mom felt about my dad? Do… Do you think that’s how my mom felt about me?”

The silence returned after Paige’s statement, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air as Azzi struggled to find a way to explain to her best friend that she couldn’t understand why anyone would ever leave her.

“What? No, of course not,  why would you say that?” When Azzi had said what she did, she hadn’t realised Paige would think about it like that, but then again, how else would she think about it? 

The realisation that she had caused Paige to think her mom had grown tired of her made Azzi feel like she was going to throw up, like her world had come crashing down around her. 

“Well, why else do people leave? If we’re hanging out and we’re having a good time together, I’m not just gonna pack up my stuff when you turn away and leave without saying anything. People don’t leave when they’re having a good time.” Her breath catching on the last few words, “When they love the people they’re with.”

Paige wasn’t sure how long she had been holding her tears in, all she knew was that they had started to trickle down her face and she hated it and wished they would stop.

Azzi felt severely out of her depth, unsure how to soothe the older girl into understanding that for whatever reason her mom left, it was no fault of her own. “I don’t know… I think it’s more complicated than that when you grow up. Like all the issues that we think matter now aren’t gonna matter anymore, and we’ll be thinking about things like taxes and, like jury duty I guess. Like adults are just weird, big kids… And I have no idea why your mom left, but what I do know is that it’s not your dad’s fault or your fault. It’s her fault because she’s missing out on being around you, because you’re awesome, you’re the best person I know. And for what it’s worth you’ll always have me, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, you’re stuck with me for a long time Paigey.”

Sometime during Azzi’s little speech, Paige had begun to hyperventilate, full-body sobs wracking her skinny frame as she tried to catch her breath.

“I’m sorry Az, I don’t know why I’m so upset.” Paige managed to push the words out, gulping big gasps of air between each word.

“It’s okay Paigey, there’s nothing to apologise for.” Azzi breathed out into the fresh night air.

For what seemed like the millionth time that evening, the room fell silent, bar Paige’s steady stream of sniffling and sobbing. In the darkness Azzi shuffled off her bed and into Paige’s mattress, slipping herself under the doona.

The older girl kept her back turned to Azzi, who dragged her fingertips soothingly along Paige’s arms. They stayed like that for a moment, before Paige turned over, tucking her head into the crook of Azzi’s neck.

Chest to chest, they were so close Azzi could feel the heaving breaths that Paige was taking as she cried into the neckline of her shirt.

“I love you Paige, You’ll always have me, no matter what.”

She didn’t hear her best friend’s response, only felt the muffled vibration of words against her shoulder and Paige’s hand grabbing onto her own, interlocking their fingers. 

Azzi drew stars and hearts and “I love you”s onto Paige’s back, not stopping till the blonde’s staggered breathing gave way to the soft snoring of her sleep. Only then did she let herself drift off into the comfort of sleep.

—------------------------

5th of SEPTEMBER, 2014

OAKRIDGE VIRGINIA

The moment had finally arrived. There it was right before their very eyes, Middle school. 

The wide brick building stood tall and imposing in front of them. Both girls couldn’t help the wild thrashing of their hearts as anxiety began to flood their systems at the prospect of middle school.

Their parents had left them only a minute prior, and they had been firmly planted in the same spot they had been before they left.

As the pre-warning bell went off, Paige glanced down at her purple, digital wristwatch, before she looked back up at Azzi.

“I think we need to go in now.” She spoke quietly, her worries evident in both her face and her voice.

“Okay, yeah. We’ve got this.” Azzi responded, unsure as to whether her words were intended to soothe herself, or Paige, or both.

“Yeah, we’ve got this, together.” Paige assured, pulling Azzi’s equally sweaty palm into her own.

“Together.” Azzi said with a squeeze.

With that they were off.

As they walked through the doors of Oakridge Middle School, it felt as if the world shifted right beneath their feet. From then on everything would be different, friendships would bloom and wither, personalities would change for the better and the worse. Yet as they stepped into their future, hand and hand, it seemed just a little less scary.

—------------------------

NOTE: Hope everyone likes this one, I definitely like it way more than the first two. Next one will be out probably in a bit over a week I think, if all goes according to plan.

Thanks again for reading :)

[dream-of-the-bitchless]

I imagine at some point Silco might've been despondent when it came to the cause of Zaun. And on a night like that, Vander would've tried to cheer him up.

They would be in Vander's small room above the Drop, Silco spiralling a little; why are some people not responding to their call to action as expected? Why do some even berate them for trying to change anything at all? Are they even on the right track?

"What do you want to do when all of this is over?" Vander would ask, the question catching Silco off guard because what is there "afterwards"? This is what gives him purpose. What else could he possibly yearn for beyond the liberation of their people? But Vander would just smile and reveal, "I want to get a cat. I've always wanted one, but we're so busy that I couldn't take good care of it right now, so I would get one then."

A cat? Silco would probably find it a tad absurd. Nothing's really stopping Vander from getting a cat; the creature would surely survive their absences no problem.

"But first I would spend a whole day in bed. Waking up just to sleep again right after," Vander would add, and Silco, confronted with his own bone-deep exhaustion, has to admit that he would very much like that, too.

"I—I would eat sweet pastries. Every kind available in that nice bakery we've passed near the bridge," he'd concede, to Vander's delight. Encouraged, Silco would admit to a much deeper dream. "I would study. Proper study, that is, at a university. With big lecture halls and like-minded people to discuss with."

"Still would be the smartest guy in the building," Vander would say, and it's the kind of compliment that Silco doesn't have a hard time accepting.

"I would have time to write, maybe do it for a living, although that's highly unrealistic." You see, one must know their limits, even when dreaming.

Vander would stay quiet for a while, drinking it all in. "I'd like some kids," he'd finally declare. It wouldn't fully take Silco by surprise, but his next words would. "Not too many. Just two or three."

"What?? That's plenty!"

His reaction would make Vander laugh for sure. "Oh, come on. Think about everything we could teach them!"

"We?" Silco would wonder out loud, brow arched, and would be met with a cocky smile.

"Yeah. With your brains and my strength, we've got all fronts covered."

"That's a tall order," Silco would point out, his own mouth stretching involuntarily into a smile because kids are the furthest thing from his mind, and it's a crazy idea, perhaps even crazier than making a living out of writing.

"I think you'd make a great father," Vander would say in a low voice, and there'd be raw honesty in that statement, the same unconditional trust Silco is met with whenever Vander blindly puts his own life and the future of Zaun in his hands, as if he could do no wrong with either of them. And Silco can almost believe it.

[who-can-touch-my-boob]

<- love and deepspace masterlist

Hey, so guys—I’m gonna write a whole ass theory/not-theory post about love and deepspace. Please give me your own thoughts and excuse my rambling it’s 2 am and I’m supposed to be asleep.

—

No but I actually need the LI to interact in game, I know (think or read somewhere) that the love and dating parts are separate timelines and in the “main” timeline MC doesn’t romanticise any of them(?). Anyway not my point, my point is that they all canonically exist in the same place and Caleb is probably the one tying everyone together.

I swear I believe it was Caleb that Rafayel talked to in the nest place where he lead MC so she could find the Onychinus. There was also a TikTok someone made (probably as a joke) of why Rafayel’s reaction to MC feeding him an apple threw him off.

Caleb is also Zayne’s childhood friend, but alright I’m gonna take a little spin off and ask;

When Zayne is reborn, does he remember everything immediately? Does he as a child bear memories of his previous lives as an adult? Or does the memories come to him with age?

Because IF the case is that Zayne already as a child knows of his past with MC and still has the powers of seeing the future, did he perhaps purposefully become friends with Caleb and MC?

Alright back to the main plot point of my post.

I dunno much about Xavier because I don’t have his full 5-star myth yet, but I do know he’s travelling through space and time (?) and that dude knows some shit. He’s most likely also being extra overprotective because of Caleb, like he’s maybe met an alternative version of him in the past?

Oh, but then there’s Sylus.

I’m just saying, Zayne, Rafayel and Xavier all helped MC find the Onychinus and if they truly thought she would be in life threatening danger they probably would’ve stopped her.

I don’t know how!!! But I’m just yapping so stay with me, ok? They all wanted her to find Sylus, because Sylus is the only one strong enough to protect her.

They probably know about the aether cores, that MC can use the dragon to their advantage. However they didn’t realise that MC and Sylus actually share half of each soul, that they are two kindred spirits.

Oh-ho! But Caleb knows, and Caleb haaaates it. Because he, the one who imprisoned Sylus to begin with, wants nothing more than to see the dragon back into the abyss. Because Caleb, the whole reason he’s in MC’s life is to get to Sylus.

Knowing she’s the key to the dragon, he decides to use her, manipulate her into thinking he’s nothing but a kind and loving friend. Sadly, Caleb didn’t anticipate that he too would be smitten by MC.

So everything just turns complicated now, because in the “main timeline” where MC doesn’t romanticise any of the LI, they’re all very much in love with her.

Gods and when they finally all meet… I’m envisioning like the Deepspace throwing every universe together, causing the past, future and present to mash up and fuck the whole reality… and something something Ever.

[moonlight-joy]

A Bond Forged in Flame

Fandom: House of Dragon

Summary: On Dragonstone, you and Jacaerys Velaryon discovered a mysterious dragon egg that bonded with you, revealing your latent Targaryen heritage. At the hatching ceremony, the dragon Aegros chose you, cementing your place as a dragonrider and strengthening your bond with Jace. Amid whispers of your lineage, Rhaenyra and Jace affirmed your belonging, solidifying your destiny among the dragonlords of Dragonstone.

Pairing: Reader/Jacaerys Velaryon

Jacaerys Velaryon had always felt a deep connection to dragons. As the eldest son of Rhaenyra Targaryen and heir to the Iron Throne, dragons were woven into the very fabric of his being. Yet, nothing had prepared him for the bond he would forge with you—not just as a dear friend, but as someone whose destiny was tied to his in ways neither of you could have imagined.

It began on a crisp autumn morning as you and Jace explored the rocky beaches of Dragonstone. You had always been close, your days filled with shared laughter and whispered secrets. Though you were not of Targaryen blood—or so you had always believed—Rhaenyra had welcomed you into her family with open arms, recognizing the loyalty and strength you brought to Jace’s life.

“Look at this!” Jace called out, crouching near a cluster of rocks.

You hurried to his side, curiosity piqued. Nestled in the sand was a dragon egg, its shell shimmering with hues of black and gold. It was smaller than most eggs you had seen, but its beauty was undeniable.

“Do you think it was abandoned?” you asked, your voice hushed as if speaking too loudly might disturb the precious object.

Jace shook his head, carefully lifting the egg. “Dragons rarely abandon their eggs,” he murmured, his brow furrowed in thought. “But this one… it feels different.”

The egg radiated warmth, its heat pulsing faintly against Jace’s hands. He turned to you, his expression resolute. “We can’t leave it here. It belongs with us.”

You nodded, your chest tightening with an unspoken sense of importance. The egg felt significant in a way you couldn’t explain, as though it were meant for both of you.

Over the following weeks, the egg became a shared responsibility. Jace had a cradle built near the dragon pit, where the egg could be kept warm by embers. You spent hours tending to it, ensuring it was turned and that the heat remained steady. The egg’s golden flecks seemed to brighten under your care, its warmth growing stronger each day.

“You’re better at this than I am,” Jace admitted one evening as the two of you sat by the cradle. His voice was light, but his eyes held something deeper—admiration, perhaps even awe.

“You’re the dragon prince,” you teased, though a smile played on your lips. “I’m just trying to keep up.”

“Maybe it’s because you care so much,” he said softly, his gaze lingering on you. “The egg… it responds to you.”

The comment made your heart flutter, though you brushed it off. “It’s responding to both of us,” you replied, though the truth of his words lingered in your mind.

Months passed, and the egg showed no signs of hatching. Even as other eggs around the pit began to crack and reveal their fiery inhabitants, yours remained stubbornly intact. Whispers spread among the keepers and courtiers—perhaps the egg was a dud, a tragic rarity among dragonkind. But neither you nor Jace gave up hope.

The day of the hatching ceremony arrived, and the entire family gathered in the dragon pit. The air was thick with anticipation, the roaring of dragons echoing through the cavernous space. Rhaenyra stood with Daemon, their faces alight with pride as they watched the younger generation tend to their future bonds.

Jace knelt beside the cradle, his brow furrowed as he whispered to the egg in High Valyrian. You stood behind him, your hands clasped tightly. The other eggs in the pit had already hatched, their young dragons chirping and flapping their tiny wings as their riders marveled. But yours remained still.

“It’s stubborn,” Daemon observed, his tone laced with dry amusement as he approached. “Like its keepers.”

Jace’s jaw tightened. “It will hatch,” he said firmly, though his voice wavered with frustration.

“You’ve done all you can, Jace,” Rhaenyra said gently, placing a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Some eggs—”

“Let me try,” you interrupted, stepping forward before you could think better of it. All eyes turned to you, the weight of their stares making your heart race.

Jace hesitated, his violet eyes searching yours. Finally, he nodded, stepping aside to let you kneel beside the egg.

You reached out, your hands trembling slightly as they hovered over the warm shell. Closing your eyes, you let yourself focus entirely on the egg, on the faint hum you felt within it—a hum that seemed to mirror the rhythm of your own heart.

“I’m here,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “If you’re waiting for me, I’m here.”

The warmth beneath your hands flared suddenly, and a faint crackling sound filled the air. Your eyes snapped open just as the first fissure appeared in the egg’s shell. Gasps echoed around the pit as the cracks spread, golden light spilling from within.

“It’s hatching!” Jace exclaimed, his voice filled with awe.

The shell broke apart in a burst of heat and light, and a tiny dragon emerged, its scales glistening black and gold. The hatchling let out a high-pitched cry, its wings flaring as it stumbled forward. It turned its golden eyes to you, and in that moment, something clicked deep within your soul—a connection that felt as natural as breathing.

The dragon chirped and nudged your hand, and you couldn’t help but laugh, tears streaming down your face. “Hello, little one,” you murmured, stroking its warm scales.

Jace knelt beside you, his own eyes wide with wonder. “It… it chose you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The murmurs among the onlookers grew louder, their astonishment palpable. Rhaenyra approached, her expression a mixture of pride and disbelief. “This is no coincidence,” she said, her voice trembling. “Dragons do not choose lightly.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sharp as he looked between you and the hatchling. “You said you had no Targaryen blood,” he said, his tone almost accusatory.

“I don’t,” you replied, though even as the words left your lips, they felt hollow. The dragon’s golden eyes met yours, and the truth you had always ignored stirred to life.

Rhaenyra knelt beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Perhaps you didn’t know,” she said gently. “But the bond is undeniable. You are one of us.”

The weight of her words settled over you, their meaning sinking in. The hum you had always felt in your soul, the pull toward dragons—it all made sense now.

Jace’s hand found yours, his grip firm and reassuring. “It doesn’t matter where you came from,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re part of this family. You always have been.”

Tears blurred your vision as you looked at him, his face alight with conviction. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

Daemon stepped forward, his expression unreadable as he studied you and the dragon. Finally, he gave a small nod. “The Black Keep gains another dragonrider,” he said, his tone neutral. But there was a glimmer of respect in his eyes.

The days following the hatching were filled with a sense of renewal. The dragon, which you named Aegros for its black and golden scales, became your constant companion. Jace remained at your side, his pride in you shining brighter than the sun.

As you stood with Jace atop the cliffs of Dragonstone, watching your dragon playfully chase after Vermax, you felt a sense of belonging you had never known before. Jace turned to you, his expression soft.

“I knew you were special,” he said quietly. “But now the world knows it too.”

You smiled, the warmth in your chest mirrored by the hum of your dragon’s presence. “And I wouldn’t want to share this with anyone but you.”

Together, you watched as Aegros soared into the sky, a symbol of the unbreakable bond between dragon and rider—and between you and Jace. For the first time, your place in the world felt certain, your destiny etched into the skies above Dragonstone.

Please support my work with like and comment

[pearlofthewoods]

Spuffy band-fic ramblings (long-post)

I think about this scene so frequently because…"Well, I sing.” 

Yes, of course he does. That man was a poet, he could write such gorgeous lyrics, and no one can tell me Spike wasn’t an active part of the rock scene in the 70s.

Honestly, a whole Spuffy band fic has been marinating in my brain for like a good 6 months now, (like seriously, it even has its own playlist, that’s when u know it’s getting real)… but since I’m only a baby writer I wanna get some writing practise in before I embark on the project, so that I can do it justice. 

However as I literally cannot keep these thoughts to myself, allow me to invite you into my brain for a while. 

(Be warned I'm basically spoiling half the plot of a future fic under the cut so scroll away if u only wanna read it when, or if, it gets written.)

So in my fic idea, there’s a huge underground vampire music scene (particularly in LA), since because vampires are immortal, they’ve lived through so many different eras of music that they have a really deep understanding of music history. They’ve seen so many famous bands live etc (which obviously is one of the few human experiences open to vampires, since so many gigs take place at night and are tied to nightlife culture). 

I’d also say that since vampires have no need to work, if they can get their hands on instruments they'd have plenty of time to practise/dedicate themselves to the craft. 

One head-canon that I have comes from the idea that Billy Idol “stole Spike’s look” from him. What if he stole something else too?

Bear with me here. 

Vampires don’t age, so they could never risk becoming famous in the human world, since people would very quickly notice that they weren’t human. Vampires need to keep a relatively low profile. They also can’t really make money easily from music by playing for other vamps, cause it’s quite unlikely the vampire scene has much money flowing around. Why would it? Everyone can just steal/mug to get what they need.

So in the vampire music world, they’d mostly just be playing for each other to stave off the boredom of eternal life, but with no worries about finances or putting food on the table. 

And dear God that music would be experimental, with none of the usual restraints of human life.

Like I think their music would be very interesting/ outside the mainstream. Perhaps they’d play stuff from entirely different decades which had completely gone out of style, but not amongst vampires who never aged/got uncool (unlike the humans who played it)….

Vampires would also have so many different first-hand musical influences that they’d create the most weird and wonderful sounds. Think Spike’s Victorian musical upbringing mixed with jazz mixed with rock, mixed with… well, you get the picture.

And tbh I think some people would try and capitalise on that, on that raw vitality. Perhaps there’s a demon who records demos secretly in the crowd or steals entire songs and sends them to someone in the know in the music industry. And since vampires don’t exactly have passports, social security numbers or any real documented presence at all, there’s nothing they can do about it. Like what if, in this fictional world, Billy Idol didn’t just steal Spike’s look, but his music too? Frankly, it'd explain the resentment.

Anyway, in my head Spike hasn’t played music for a while, he took a break to look after Drusilla and then got wrapped up in the scoobies and their shenanigans. 

But after Buffy dies? He needs somewhere to put all those emotions. He needs to write goddamn it, he hasn’t felt heartbreak like this for a long, long time. He’s not used to death, he doesn’t know how to deal with it. No vampire does.

So when he’s drinking away the pain in Willy’s one night, some demons he used to know are down from LA and offer him an open spot to sing with them at a new demon club. Spike’s about to turn it down, but they tell him things have changed. Like Wolfram and Hart, demons are all in business now, and this new club will pay.

Spike doesn’t need money… but Dawn does. Tara and Willow won’t tell him anything, (they don’t want to be put in the moral position of whether to accept mugging-proceeds from Spike), but he knows that finances are tight. And this is something he can do for Dawn, and in a way… for Buffy.

So Spike joins a band!

I think he’s probably pretty famous from his past in the 70s vamp rock scene, but this time he wants to change up the music genre. He wants a fresh start. It’s the nineties goddamn it, and he’s certainly not the same vampire he was twenty years ago. He’ll play, but he’ll play on his terms. 

I imagine his newer music to basically be Jeff Buckley’s (my fave 90s musician), which I know might seem a bit melancholy for Spike, but with his current grief, it feels quite appropriate.

Tbh since I basically know nothing about music and can’t even imagine lyrics for toffee, I'd probably even just give him Jeff’s discography and call it a day. It’s fanfic I can do what I like. Grace? Spike wrote it. Job done. 

For example, the lyrics to “Opened Once”?

"In the half-light where we both stand

In the half-light you saw me as I am

I am a railroad track abandoned

With the sunset forgetting I ever happened

That I ever happened"

Half-light = the twilight, the safest time of day for vampires (to quote Edward Cullen, sorry lol). also a metaphor for the place between the vamp world and the human world. A place where Buffy and Spike "both stand", as she’s the slayer and he’s a vampire that can’t hurt people.

‘You saw me as I am’ - After Buffy's resurrection, Spike’s the only person who truly understands what she’s been through, and the experience of crawling out of your own grave. They meet each other where they are.

‘Railroad track’ - ‘railroad spike’. Railroad is a pretty unusual and archaic way of phrasing that word. At least where I’m from. ‘Railroad spike’ is too good of a coincidence. 

‘Sunset forgetting I ever happened’ - Spike doesn’t get to live in the daylight. the sun (and the sunset) are both out of reach for him without the danger of dusting. He doesn’t fully feel like a true vampire anymore, but the human world won’t accept him either. In fact, his human life was so long ago that even the sun itself has forgotten William Pratt.

I also think Spike/ Jeff Buckley is a fitting parallel  since, if I stick to major-canon events, Jeff’s unfortunate passing very early in his career would also fit roughly timewise with Spike’s death at the end of season 7. 

The last unfinished album that Jeff struggled so hard to write? The one Spike wrote when he was getting over his ensoulment and entirely reevaluating who he is, and what that means for his music.

Unfinished final album? Yes. Unpublished? No. 

Because when he accepted wearing that amulet, Spike had a pretty good idea he was going to die. So he did something a vampire never plans to do. He wrote a will. 

If he’s dead, there’s no more worries about fame exposing his immortality right? So his music is published posthumously in the human world (with some bullshit about his talent going undiscovered by the industry during life).

And combined, the proceeds pay for Dawn’s college bills, and lift all of Buffy’s financial worries from her shoulders. 

In the end, that’s Spike’s last gift to Buffy, his music, his poetry…and it finally allows her to rest. 

[everlastingday]

i haven't written all week on account of starting a new job, getting sucked into an audiobook, and having to restart my crochet project, but here's a little bit of owen's intro from the survivor au!

thank you @annoyingcloudearthquake, @heartstringsduet, @thisbuildinghasfeelings, @carlos-in-glasses, @paperstorm, @bonheur-cafe, @whatsintheboxmh, @nisbanisba, @carlossreaders, @lemonlyman-dotcom, @emsprovisions, and @futures-tense for the tags! i still have to go through and read them all and reblog but i will, i promise! 💜

--

Owen sizes up his own tribe against TK’s tribe. There’s a good amount of muscle on both sides, but if he were to hedge bets, he’d say that he’s probably on the better tribe, physically. His tribe is, with himself being the exception, on the younger side, and the big guy at the end of the line is going to be a tough one to beat in challenges, that’s for sure. That’s not to say that brawn is everything in the game of Survivor – Owen’s watched enough Survivor to know this – but at least in the early game, it’s a huge advantage. 

He peeks over at the other tribe, trying to catch TK’s eye to say hi, when he remembers that TK didn’t want people to know they were related. He’s probably right, but Owen just thinks that the truth is going to come out eventually, and it doesn’t matter much anyway since they’re not even on the same tribe. Plus, his ex-wives both say he’s a terrible liar, so he’s not sure how well he can be expected to keep up the ruse, but he’ll try anyway. If TK thinks it’s better for his game, he’s going to at least try not to blow it up for him.

Owen’s attention shifts to the man walking up towards them, parting the camera crew like the Red Sea. It’s the man, the myth, and the legend himself – Jeff Probst. Owen secretly thinks that he’s better looking than Jeff, and that he’s perhaps overly revered in the Survivor fandom, but still, as a long-time fan, he admittedly is a little starstruck to see Jeff in the flesh. 

As they go through their introductions, Owen notices that the bulk of his tribe are firefighters, like him. He feels relieved – he knows firefighters. How they think, what makes them tick, and what makes them angry. Hell, he’s been a fire captain for the better part of the last two decades, and not to sound too cocky, but he knows he’s a good one. If he can take the lead on this tribe, he’s pretty sure he just hit the jackpot in the tribe lottery.  

--

just an open tag today since it's so late and idk who hasn't done it yet! 💜

[jeannereames]

Just out. Yes, it's stupid-expensive, but perhaps you can get your local library to get a copy.

This is the second important collection on ATG out this year, and which I have a chapter in. I'm rather proud of my material in both the Cambridge Companion to Alexander the Great (which is fairly priced for an academic book of its size), but also (and maybe especially) this one.

My Cambridge chapters pull together some important recent work on Alexander's court and the conflicts among the Hetairoi and with the army. So if you were intrigued by my recent posts on the drama around Alexander, I talk about it in the Cambridge Companions, especially the second chapter (12: "Changes and Challenges at Alexander's Court"). It pulls together some divergent material that I think all bears on the other (especially the recent work on Archaic Macedonia), and I throw out some proposals/revisions of prior thought. But it's as much summarizing as original work.

My chapter in the Brill Companion to the Campaigns of Philip II and Alexander the Great is primarily original research. And a (I hope) super-duper useful table of ALL religious references in the 3 or 5 original sources, on both Philip and Alexander. That's not been done, to my knowledge, like, ever. Fredricksmeyer's dissertation in 1954? (unsure of date and too lazy to look it up, but the mid-50s) was the last really serious, extensive look at Alexander and religion that consolidated the sources. And he didn't provide tables.

So yeah, that's my BIG contribution to ATG research in the past decade, really. And it's SYNOPTIC, folks. What does that mean? I record where X event occurs in each of the 3 or 5 primarily sources for each king, with holes for who didn't record it. If you've ever seen a copy of the Synoptic Gospels, that was my model. This is SUPER useful because it lets you see who told what story, how different sources changed details, and what *sort* of religious action each event/reference was.

It's a long chapter, in part because of that table. It took a lot of work. But I really hope it proves a useful resource (beyond just my commentary on it) for future research on Alexander.

[aastarions]

im not even halfway there and my mobility is so shot :’) i am afraid

[bacchuschucklefuck]

Riz has counted four casseroles this week alone. Five, if one goes by the method of cooking, but Yelen's scary when she's crossed, and calling her burek by its proper name is important to her, so Riz does her the courtesy and doesn't include it in his mental tally.

He holds the tupperware over his head to keep it out if the way as he takes careful steps over the piles of notes in his path. The dockman case just closed, relevant documentations handed over to relevant personnels, evidences dealt with as needed; all he has lying around now is just record of the process and traces of himself thinking through it. Unsurprisingly they still haven't invented a surface more convenient for people under five feet who like to pace to put pieces of paper on than the ground.

Actual records go into the case folder with the other documents. Anything else with at least one side still blank is going to the school kids in the block - they chew through an astounding amount of paper just learning arithmetic. The rest is for the recycling basket.

Later. It's his mandated lunch break right now.

Riz sits down in front of the corner file cabinet. In an office often overrun with papers and strings and sometimes even thumbtacks, he's never really managed to clutter up this exact square of surface like every other ones. Ever since the bottom drawer rattled for no discernible reason a day long past, his eyes have always just kinda decided to slide across the space without acknowledging it.

It's years out, now. Riz doesn't know why he thought it such a big deal anymore, back then. He wasn't scared, he doesn't think. Not anymore. Maybe just uncomfortable with the idea that certain things persist despite all efforts to change.

He opens the tupperware. Dame Carabelle's experiment greets him with enough spice in the aroma alone to knock out a small mammal. When he chopped the vegetables for this casserole he couldn't really imagine the eventual heft of it, evident even through just these few ladles' worth, maybe weighing heavier for being still warm. His folk eat more through the smell and the textures and the aftertastes than the taste itself. His folk's meal is really the cooking rather than the eating. The eating is the meal's end.

"Hey," he tells the file cabinet's bottom drawer. "Um."

It's the anniversary. Riz doesn't know the exact date of his dad's death; nobody currently alive does. He and Mom both use the date of the funeral, though as he moved out to Bastion and then got more directly involved with Interplanar he hasn't really been going to Dad's grave as much. Doesn't seem like very efficient use of his time, catching a train or borrowing a car or spending a whole spell slot on going somewhere he knows Dad isn't at. They're sorta coworkers now. They talk on and off every other week between missions. When he goes now, it's just to clean up the place, keeping the landmark tidy and respectable.

Without that work to mark the date he doesn't really know what it serves anymore. But he still remembers it. Still takes note, absently or not, when it comes around.

There's not really a good way to tell the drawer that. Riz looks for another way to start the... conversation, hopefully. The question at play, he'd guess, is why he's doing this. He's been pretty content ignoring all the rattlings and the knocks from inside and the times it sits slightly ajar without him ever opening it himself; hell, he still uses the three drawers on top of it. Space is fucking precious in Bastion.

Precious enough to finally fix this damn drawer so he gets his turn to use it? Riz asks himself. Is that what we're getting to? Then he dismisses the thought - he didn't manage to fix it the times he actually tried, let alone-- now. When he doesn't really care that much to.

That's probably a good place to start. "'s fine if you keep being in there, turns out," Riz says.

The lunch hours are quiet in the block, sleepy and bright with the brief window of sunlight that manages to break through roof overhangs and extended balconies and laundry lines and climbing vines. Riz's work isn't loud here (the loud parts happen away from his office, if everything goes right), but the fragment of early summer heat reflected in the steady warmth his meal still carries compels him to lower his voice even more. It makes the words feel intimate, in a way he's never been familiar with - if he says something he just says it. He doesn't whisper. If he gives his friends something, he gives it open-palm. He's found out, along the way, that people usually don't think of rituals and courtesies the way he does.

Small voice for a diminished monster. "You know why I think so?" Riz asks. "Because almost two decades ago you kidnapped me and almost killed me, and now you rattle a drawer in my office."

It doesn't sound as much like a taunt as Riz wanted it to; the drawer has made a lot of noises again this morning when he checked the calendar, and he was definitely annoyed at it. Now, though, facing it like this after cooking the whole morning with more grandparents and peers from the block than he can count on both hands to cater for a tenant union meeting, he thinks the annoyance has morphed. Changed shape.

It has the shades of something like pity. Riz is not prone to pity, and especially not at these kinda matters. It's slightly maddening that he coheres perfectly outside of this one spot. That he commands his spaces, except for a drawer.

He puts the tupperware onto the floor between himself and the cabinet. "I know we're aware it's the anniversary," he says at the drawer. "You do this every year. You make a ruckus every time I decide to go do my job instead of mooching off my friends' aircon, and every time I get an invitation to some stupid social thing I want to turn down, and every time one of the old people tries to introduce me to a child or a nibling, because being a bachelor over thirty is weird," he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I have three fucking jobs. I love doing my fucking jobs. I'm forcing funds into infrastructures. You're never leaving, are you."

The drawer vibrates lightly. It's a very, very mild acknowledgement, considering the history of reactions Riz has gotten from this thing. Riz thinks it's emanating joyous agreement, or satisfaction.

It only sharpens the pity. Riz doesn't like that, but it's how it is. That's, ultimately, the lesson he's been taught over and over and over again, just by existing as himself, turned every which way by space after space that don't see him eye-to-eye: it's not like he'd quit living over any of it. It's not like any of it can sand off these fundamental pieces of him.

He's outgrown a lot of things, he's found out. Again, and again, and again. A childhood home, a yearly trip, a monster.

"'s probably scary for you, huh?" He asks. "Because I left."

He thinks he hears joints creak that sound like you did. Probably the way a scorned lover would say it, in a movie or a yellowback. He has no more connection to the idea than he did as a kid. Less, because it doesn't even scare him.

"That's what it is, right? That it's the anniversary, and I'll never be like Dad." He raises a knee from the floor, pulls it back closer to him. Slings an arm over it. "You love to remind me. The thing is, Dad also left. He loved Mom and he loved me, and none of us wanted it to happen, but it still did. Because love does fuckall to make anyone stay on its own."

He's long past being bitter about it. It's just the facts. Once upon a time he looked into the future and the specter of his friends' happily-ever-after casted lightless, fathomless shadow over him. Love, marriage, that kind of devotion, to a fifteen-year-old with more solved cases than friends seemed so eternal. Final.

But you can only watch your friends build up apps' worth of jilted lovers for so long before getting over it.

"You know what I learned?" Riz tells the drawer. "Love doesn't make anyone stay. Project management does."

He stands up, and picks up the tupperware of Dame Carabelle's casserole, that he helped make, that he helped share with a block's worth of neighbors and members of a community he's at home with, and goes sit at his desk to eat. "Last chance to get any," he drops an offer over his shoulder as he walks away.

He doesn't eat all of his share in one go. What he's spared he leaves on the desk when going outside for a smoke break. Baron looks the exact same as when he saw them last, when he catches a glimpse; they haven't grown at all. They aren't there when he comes back inside, but the leftover has gone days-old cold, like someone's sucked the future out of it.

[found--family]

am i the only one who sensed some jilted lover vibes from jensen? 

[protect-namine]

I actually have a fic idea but lc is a show that's like. you will never ever have all the information and context until the end. and I am a writer who writes best and more confidently when I have all the info and context at my fingertips. so now I'm just like 🧍‍♂️

anyway. ramble in the tags

[babacontainsmultitudes]

[just venting a bit into the void you understand you understand 😌] Lately I've been feeling very caught between "I have a lot of thoughts on Sparrow and Normal and all that with the ending and teen talk and feel like I need to get them out and voice them for my own piece of mind and resolution" and "I am lacking the strength and energy to actually sit down and write it all out and kind of really just want to fully move on to other things (AUs, fics, anything else)" but my brain can't seem to commit to either and that's quite frustrating cause it's just left me very restless. *Sigh*. Idk! Just needed to complain about that a bit ig, it's silly but this is what has been ailing me as of late.

[emilyjunk]

when will you update gsu? 😔🫶

I appreciate your continued investment but like a lover going off to battle with an uncertain outcome, I leave you with this message: I'm not saying it will never happen but I urge you not to wait for me. Live your life to the fullest and when I return if you have not been snatched up by a new interest which deserves your love and loyalty more than I, then perhaps we might have a future together yet

[caffeinatedopossum]

I don’t know if it’s comforting or anything to hear but I’m very much in the same position- had been thinking/planning for the last couple weeks but now I’m making a plan to get help cuz that’d be fucking embarrassing if people thought it was solely because of the election (although that is not. Helping. It’s definitely another reason now) I’m sending you love in this awful time

Thank you, that actually does help. And good luck to you in getting the help you need!

Lmao I probably shouldn't find this funny but like i can't help it, just the idea that no amount of people telling me it gets better or that they need me will make me seriously rethink but then the instant I'm like "Wait no killing myself now would be cringe" SUDDENLY

Suddenly I'm like "oh okay maybe I should not die just yet"

[hsslilly-blog]

claire should have had a minor for her first undergrad and there’s a funny option here but i’m not sure if i’m willing to make it Real