#i should start postmarking them

[hersurvival]

My poor fading ember,

I ask the universe to look after you, for the Spring breeze to keep you burning until you are fed the nurturing you deserve and can burn bright once more.

You know that I would gently pick your coals from the ash, ignore the burning flesh of my palms as I raise them to my lips, and breathe my own life back into you. Down to my last, shallow breath if that is what it took.

What is love in darkness? What am I without you?

I would return you to the sun myself to refuel your essence, so long as you might become unwavering again.

Sincerely, desperately,

Your cold, shivering girl

[nirikeehan]

wip wednesday??

okay I haven't done this in a thousand years but @theluckywizard tagged me... and I recently went insane after playing the game Road 96 and decided I needed to write a 12k long deep dive on the character Jarod.

...If you know, you know.

Anyway, it's called A Small Victorious War and the first chapter is already on AO3. Here is a bit from chapter 2, where he's looking for his missing teenage daughter, Lola, after she ran away to join a terrorist group.

Tagging: @ar-lath-ma-cully | @oxygenforthewicked | @rowanisawriter | @carnalapples | @exalted-dawn-drabbles | @monocytogenes | whoever wants to do it!!

---

He made a few calls and knocked on a few doors. He learned Mr. Winters had also left town, which set the familiar fury simmering in his gut. A group of these Brigade members were headed deep into the south, in Petria’s vast desert region. Aside from the oil fields, the area was mostly undeveloped, which meant they would be difficult to track.

And then there was the note. Please don’t look for me. He’d pursued people who didn’t want to be found before, and the rocks one had to overturn were usually unpleasant for everyone involved. He’d walked away from some of those with regrets. 

“This is our daughter, Jarod,” Maria said over the phone. “It’s different. How could you not want her home safe?” 

He didn’t say they should respect her wishes, exactly. He was less articulate, angrier, perhaps a bit accusatory about why Lola might choose to run away from her mother’s residence, where she spent most of her time. 

“Don’t you dare try to blame me for this,” his ex-wife said. “She’s sixteen years old. She’s too young to know what’s in her own best interest. You were always too easy on her. You let her do whatever she wanted, and look what’s happened.” 

Jarod hung up on her then, because otherwise he would start screaming. No, he never would have encouraged Lola to join a terrorist group. But he had, looking back on it, encouraged her to think for herself, which was maybe just as bad.

He imagined finding whatever compound the Brigades had taken her to, and dragging her out by the arm, kicking up dust as they went, the hatred bright in her eyes. I’ll never forgive you, she spat, and wrenched away from him when he got her into the cab, his fingerprints on her skin already beginning to bruise. It was this image he couldn’t shake, no matter how hard he tried. And he remembered how passionate she was about the idea that conditions in Petria could improve. She truly seemed to think it possible. 

So he stopped looking. 

His apartment was quiet that summer, and so was he, saying little more than the rote script required of him in his daily life. So where we headed today with Happy Taxi? And when Maria called he would tell her he’d let her know if he made any progress and she would ask him if he was drunk, and he would hang up again, angry, because his speech wasn’t that slurred. 

Then, as summer melted into September, he received mail from Lola. 

He called Maria immediately, the words blurring on the page, his mind racing too fast to properly absorb them. “I got the letter,” he said when she picked up, to which Maria said, “What letter?” and Jarod became very quiet. 

Lola had, apparently, only written to him. 

He had assumed that Lola would, as a matter of course, write to both parents. As he stood there, at the side table by the door of his apartment, reading the letter by the light of the streetlamp outside, he tried to ascertain why it was him she chose. He gripped the phone tighter in his hand and breathed slowly. 

“She’s all right,” he said, because at least that much seemed accurate.

“Where is she?” Maria demanded. “Is she coming home?” 

“Doesn’t say,” he said. The letter was dated the fifth of September, postmarked the sixth. Today was the eighth, meaning it must have been mailed somewhere within a hundred miles, to be delivered with such swiftness. So she was likely back in the north. The return address was a P.O. Box, but listed a town he didn’t recognize and suspected to be fabricated.

“Jarod, what does it say?” Maria asked. 

A few other things, including something “big” that would “change everything” in four days. Given the date on the letter, that meant tomorrow. This was, he suspected, why she wrote to him and not her mother. The promise of results. That her actions weren’t only frivolity. That she’d been right that day in his living room, grasping his arm, full of fervent hope. 

And she’d also signed it, in her signature way, All my love, except it was encased in a word bubble and spoken by a cartoon dinosaur that she had drawn, which made him think perhaps she had forgiven him for the plastic dinosaur incident. He wanted desperately to write her back and tell her it wasn’t too late, that she could still walk away from this, still go to university and study paleontology, he would help her, he would do anything. 

“She says she loves us,” Jarod lied, “and that she’ll be in touch again soon.” 

[galadrieljones]

Are you taking writing prompts from that list? If so, then, uh, how about Traveler's Inn, a folded letter, and hopeful for the lovely Sene?

Thank you ^_^ Here is Sene Lavellan and Thom Rainier in the Hinterlands, not long before the events of Veilguard.

Solavellan | 1600 words

Lost and Found

She sat at the bar, at the Red Fox tavern in the Hinterlands. She had been to the Red Fox many times, had once lived there, in fact, several years before, when she made it a regular habit to visit Lace. That month, she was bored, so she had started a little a hunting class, in the village, teaching a group of children, sitting in a circle by the lake. She showed them how to fletch arrows and how to build long bows from simple things in the environment. She showed them how to shoot arrows into clay jars. And each day, when she was all finished, she came back to the Red Fox, where everybody knew her name, but not in the diplomatic sense. In the neighborly sense, which was a comfort.

Thom Rainier was also in town. She remembered how he first showed himself earlier that day, standing off to the side as she taught her little class, sipping some sort of brandy out of a wooden cup. He knew to meet her there, as he'd been caught by one of her many couriers running messages to friendly faces in the area. Something she liked to do whenever she traveled anywhere. The thing about being Sene was that, even as much of her old people had gone their separate ways in the years before, nearly all of them still, to some extent, found home here and there with the Inquisition, and if Sene was nearby, they would come to meet her. Building bridges in Ferelden, reconstruction efforts in Orlais, natural disaster relief, diplomatic negotiation, bandit management, etc. etc. Even when she was alone, she was never truly alone.

That week, Thom was in the Hinterlands on an errand from Josie, who had sent him to negotiate an Inquisition treaty with a local group of separatist mages, just south of Redcliffe. Sene saw Thom and Josie often, as they spent a great deal of time at Skyhold, but she, herself, rarely spent extended time at Skyhold. Her nomadic roots had won out over the years. She liked to travel around, stay at inns with the commoners. Of course she was always escorted by a heavy detail of intimidating Inquisition soldiers, all of them still under Cullen's command, but other than that, it was almost like being normal. Almost.

The Red Fox Inn, if you'll recall, is inside a cave, and that night, it twinkled with lovely, magical candlelight, and it had a tree inside, growing all the way up, up and out the top, a natural skylight, which the moonlight poured through on clear evenings. Surface dwarves and free apostates loitered here. It had a cozy atmosphere, if not witchy, with warm brews and bartenders who tended toward magic. There was always a bard, who sang late into the night.

Thom showed up around nine-thirty. Sene was drinking her champagne, alone, mostly staring at her hands and listening to the music. They'd had a plan to meet, after his negotiations at the separatist base, but he was late. When he sat down, he ordered a whiskey, up, and seemed tired. When Sene asked what was going on, he sighed and handed her a letter, on stained paper, folded in quarters.

"It's from Lace," he said. "Postmark is Minrathous."

"Where did you get this?" said Sene. She took the letter, but she didn't want to open it.

"I stopped at Lace's house, to pick up her mail, as humbly requested. Imagine my surprise to find a letter, sent to her residence, but addressed to you."

"I spend a lot of time there," said Sene. "Especially when Lace is away. She probably thought it would be faster than trying to reach me at Skyhold."

"You should read it," said Thom. The bartender gave him his whiskey, and he swallowed it in a single gulp. He ordered another. "Right now."

"Did you open it?" said Sene, surprised.

"I might have."

"Thom."

"I was curious," he said, dropping his head in shame. "I'm sorry, Sene, but I know why they're there. Solas, he was my friend. He is my friend. It's been almost ten years. I just want to know."

"You want to know what?"

"If he's alive," said Thom, emptying a few silvers onto the bar as he was served another. "That's all. So, read it, won't you? I may have opened the envelope, but I was too guilty to actually read the thing myself." He took a long gulp, slower this time. His eyes were watery as he looked at her. "Go on, Sene."

Sene did not want to read the letter. Her stomach hurt as the bard switched songs. It was a love song, one Sene had heard before. Somewhere nearby, a group of fancy tourists from Orlais, sharing their third pitcher of mead, burst into raucous laughter.

"I still feel him," she said, holding the letter in her fingers, imagining the old days, when he would have been there with her, at the Red Fox. It was one of his favorite haunts. "In dreams. I let him in. I just do."

"What does it feel like?" said Thom, understanding. He finished his drink. "Or do I want to know?"

"It just feels...familiar. It didn't used to. I used to be angry with him, all the time. But now, whenever I feel him, I think about Haven, because I think I miss Haven the most. I can tell he likes it there. Everything is so simple. We talk, sometimes. Sort of."

"Have you been back to Haven?" said Thom. "Since it all went down?"

"Yes," said Sene. "I went once, with Abelas, years ago, right before the Exalted Council. I went back with Ameridan, too. It's empty, forgotten. But in my dreams, it's like it used to be."

"I remember once, at Haven, I got so damned drunk at the pub, Solas carried my ass home, all by himself. I was leaning against him so hard, thought I might break him in half. But you know Solas. Strong as a bloody ox. He snarked at me the entire time. Maker, I miss those days."

"Me, too."

"So, open the letter," said Thom. "And, please, Inquisitor, drink your bloody champagne. I don't want to be tipsy on my lonesome tonight." He signaled the bartender for a refill. "Fucking separatists. The treaty succeeded, but not without considerable...diplomatic stress."

Sene smiled at this. It was funny to her, the lengths to which Thom was willing to go to learn diplomacy, for Josie. She took a long drink. So long, the bubbles filled her head with stars. Then, she looked at the letter, and she unfolded it slowly.

"What's it say?" said Thom.

Sene stared at the words. The handwriting, it wasn't Lace's, or Varric's for that matter. She was shocked. Her heart felt high up, like it was beating in her throat, and in her forehead. She felt dizzy all of a sudden and had to steady herself against the bar.

"Sene?"

"It's not from Lace," she said, looking up at Thom. She showed it to him, put it right there in front of his face on the bar. "Thom, it's not from Lace."

"Who the hell is it from?"

"It's from him," said Sene, seeing the words, the dark ink, how it bled off the page in places where the letter had been stained and dampened on its journey, all the way from Tevinter. "He's in Minrathous. It's from Solas."

Together, they read the letter, which was not long. It said:

Dearest Sene. I have heard it is easiest to reach you by way of Scout Harding these days. I know you spend a lot of time in the Hinterlands, and in some ways, so have I these past several years. I don't know why I'm writing you. It's been so long. I have been alone under these ancient, wounded skies. It will be best if this letter is lost on a freighter, while crossing the Waking Sea. Maybe shredded by pirates. If it never reaches you at all.

But should it reach you, then perhaps that is a sign. If, like me, it finds itself lost, then found again. What I must do, it will be soon, vhen'an. Keeping you safe, and all of our friends from the old days, that is the one thing I have considered most of all. Ensuring your safety is, in fact, why this has all taken me so long. Again, I don't know why I am writing this, other than to say, I have enjoyed our dreams together. The scent, the sounds of them. The fireflies in your hair. Your hair, which is always the same, even when I can tell you've tried to change it. I still love you, Sene.

-Solas

"Maker's fucking balls," said Thom. He seemed overwhelmed, as if this was absolutely the last thing he expected. He took Sene's hand. She had begun to cry. "Sene. Are you all right?"

As she cried though, she did not feel sad. She felt hopeful. Just to hear from him, directly. To know it wasn't all just dreams and quiet inklings in the middle of the night. Much of Sene's anger, she had put it away years before. Save for on rare occasions, when it consumed her, as the briefest blaze. Mostly, she had found acceptance, but she did not expect this letter. She folded up the letter and put it in her pocket. Then she dried her tears on her sleeve. "Yes," she said. "I'm all right, Thom. Let's have another, shall we?"

She ordered two more whiskeys, up, and they drank them in jovial remembrance, telling stories about the old days, as they listened to the bard play a familiar song.

[getoutofthisplace]

Dear Gus & Magnus,

Three more days until winter break. I cannot believe Gus is halfway through second grade. Watching him and William walk to school this morning, I felt like I could already see them as teenagers.

I have vivid memories of my own time as a second grader, so I know he is clearly within the window of time in which he can hold me accountable for my actions as a parent. That raises the stakes.

The clearest memory I have from my time as a second grader was April Fool's Day. I conspired with my teacher -- Mrs. Nailling -- to have her draft a letter to my parents explaining that I had made a failing grade for the year. She was a family friend and thought it was hilarious. She said, "We should put the letter in an envelope and make it look like it has gone through the mail." I remember being amazed that a grown-up was willing to take my joke to the next level. And then I watched in awe as she used a pencil to carefully draw the squiggly marks over the stamp to make it look postmarked.

I thought it was a funny joke at the time because I had never made a less-than-superior grade and couldn't imagine doing so, but the joke didn't age well as I started actually making failing grades by junior high school. I blame puberty.

After work today I went to my Leadership Greater Little Rock holiday party for an hour.

Dad.

Little Rock, Arkansas. 12.18.2024 - 7.34pm.

[solitaire-sol]

Sunday Snippet

Thanks to @groundzero-v for the tag! This is a bit from one of two Victorian Prongsfoot AUs in my WIP folder (well, the other might end up Regency, we'll see). This WIP, unlike the other one, is also a Muggle AU.

Sirius paged idly through the letters, the once-pristine stationary yellowed by the passage of time; the flickering firelight hardly made for the clearest illumination, but no matter. He had read those lines often enough to know them by heart, memorizing each stroke of ink, charting the way that the letters began as a neat but childish scrawl and slowly straightened, loops and whorls coming to stand at attention like a line of soldiers. They had started out as nothing more than a child's ramblings, little stories about the woods and the fields around Welspryng Grange and crooked sketches of the view from James' windows, and over time the content of the letters had shifted, easing into open words of fondness and veiled words of love. The last few letters, postmarked after Sirius' departure from England, were pleading and furious and remorseful by turns, until the last letter of them all, which contained only a handful of lines and a final farewell. 'I should have burned them,' Sirius thought, knowing even as he thought it that he could never bring himself to do so. 'I should have let that be the end.' It had been his intention, at the time, overflowing as he'd been with heartache and the righteous outrage of betrayal; Sirius had enough money that he could permanently set up house on the Continent, if he cared to do so, and never set food on England's gloomy shores again. Yes, he should have burned the letters and he should have stayed away, and yet, he had done neither. Perhaps it was some lingering sentiment from the boy who had devoured those silly little stories about chasing rabbits and splashing in brooks, from the youth who had eagerly awaited the end of the holidays and the return to school and to James, from the young man who had pressed those lines to his lips and longed for the chance to bestow such kisses on the hand that had written them. Perhaps it was cruelty, a malice born of a soul-deep wound, that had driven Sirius' return to England and his violent intrusion into James' proper little life. If the latter, then the embers of that bitter fire now burned low, for Sirius could no longer find it within him to take pleasure in his manipulations, and James had changed as well. He no longer resisted Sirius' provocations, but that impossibly honest gaze was no longer clouded with conflicting emotions: The violence of their coupling had diminished, though the vigor had not, and there were times when those clear hazel eyes were laden with such unspoken tenderness that Sirius was forced to look away. Sirius could lie to anyone, except to himself, and Sirius knew that it had never been about revenge, about the petty amusements with which he could so offhandedly ruin other peoples' lives. It had always been about James, about James and Sirius and the innocence that they had lost when the world had intruded into their humble London apartments, when Sirius had believed that the return of the luxuries lost when his family disinherited him would ease their life together, not bring it to an end.

I once again have no idea who to tag it always makes me feel like I'd be bothering people??? so an open invitation, I guess!

[landboundstar]

Random Serious Post

Okay, I don't normally post on politics. And no, I am not going to post about who I am voting for.

But I am irritated at hearing people around me saying voting interference and suppression does not happen.

Even ignoring people being taken off of voter registries - which seriously, no should not be ignored - I can think of a bunch of ways it is interfered in.

1 ) There are fewer polling places. Yes, we might know this as a stat, but the polling place being a quarter mile down the road when I started voting versus 5 miles away before I moved.... well, I had a car. But if you don't have a car, that might be a deal breaker. When my car broke down and I had to walk four miles, it took the better part of an hour to get to where I needed to go, and that was when I felt safe walking along the road. Not everyone has that option. It might not be a safe neighborhood, or maybe it is not safe to walk along the roads where you are.

2) Trying to get to the polls before open or close. Seriously, trying to get to polls before or after work sucks. And if you have a job where you can get mandated for overtime - you might have just lost any chance you had to vote because you have to work. And I've only voted twice when I've had a line. If you have to wait in line for hours, that is brutal. Personally feel election day should be a half day or full day off of work.

3) Weird absentee or mail in ballot rules. Yes, trying to get any ballot postmarked on Election Day or prior counted is important. Yes, some people might vote absentee if they cannot get to their polling place. But does the drop off for not mailed in absentee ballots need to be a weird back hallway of the courthouse two towns over? (Yes, I know someone this happened to. She needed to ask directions to drop off her ballot.)

4) Gerrymandering. I despise this. Everyone I know despises it. Does it still happen? Yes. I live in an area where for a while, they took a small piece across part of my county and attached it to two counties on either side to create one district that pretty much bypassed the rest of the county, to get votes to go one way. And that was not one of the more interestingly shaped examples.

5) Outright intimidation. If you have never had that happened.... well, good for you. I have. Not talking last minute campaigning. When someone is standing directly in front of the door, yelling at you, demanding you to tell them who you are voting for - even with poll workers repeatedly telling them to back away from the doors, not a pleasant experience. The one thing I have loved since moving is the town I am in now, regardless of who I vote for, I don't have that. But before I moved.... not only was it at my polling place, with two poll workers needing to tell a guy that his pickup needed to move so people could open the door to vote for anyone, but someone shouting at anyone voting at another polling place when I went to get groceries. And I was one of the people they hassled less - they missed me on the way in, so were yelling at me after I voted. And I didn't tell them who I voted for.

Are there more ways than this? Absolutely. I just felt like only listing five.

Please make a plan if you are able to vote to overcome these obstacles. Get a ride. Find out about deadlines or drop offs. Have your IDs and voter registration cards. Go with someone if you know there are assholes by your polling place. I do believe voting matters.

But please don't tell me voter suppression does not exist.

[quill-of-thoth]

Letters from Watson, Catching Up

The Gloria Scott part 2:  the fun bits

- Trevor is going out of his way to spend time with his teenage son and his son’s only friend. He’s an involved dad, and that’s both sweet and tragic given that he does not survive this tale. - Holmes is not staying with family during the rest of vacation... or at least, he says he’s staying in “my rooms in london” where he was previously staying on or near campus during the school year, probably. The victorian equivalent of a just-off-campus apartment could fit both living situations, but having to sign a year’s lease, prove months of income, and include a deposit was not really a thing then. He could have moved. It’s possible that he was staying with Mycroft, who is both older than him and likely already starting his london career, but I have no data on that. - Based on his organic chemistry experiments and the fact that Watson’s list of his “limits” in study in scarlet probably includes his courses of study in college and university, I think Holmes intended to become a chemist (NOT a pharmacist, brits, a person who studies chemistry for a living), possibly specifically an organic chemist, before he decided to become a detective.  - Organic chemistry was a fairly new and exciting field at the time: The synthetic dye industry had kicked off in the late 1850′s, when Holmes would have been a child, medicines were being synthesized, and plastics were about to become actually useful. (Holmes would have been exposed to them in his course of study, ACD probably knew a little bit about the first few attempts from his own studies or popular science media because the first plastic, Parkesine, was exhibited at the 1962 International Exhibition in London, where it won the bronze medal.) - He could also have intended to become a pharmacist (chemist, to speakers of UK english) but again. No data to suggest it’s likely. - Back to poor Victor, whose father is dying of apoplexy (stroke) or nervous shock (more vague but probably referring to sudden changes in behavior... read stress, trauma, probably also hypertension given the stroke.) Remember that Victor is still legally a child, with no adult relatives other than his father, and no friends besides Holmes, also a child (even by Baring-Gould’s timeline, though then as now the late teens are socially and legally a transition period into adulthood,) but one living more independently than Victor. He probably seemed very worldly, living on his own in London for the summer! - Hudson follows the pattern of many of the villains of Holmes’ adventures by making the maids at Trevor’s estate feel unsafe via crude language and public drunkenness. If you learn one thing from these stories, it’s that you should sack anyone who makes female servants feel uneasy, no questions asked. Victor doesn’t have any recourse if his father lets Hudson stay, other than physical violence. 

- That “grotesque” letter sure looks less silly now. Especially since it’s a very trivial cypher, which also a feature in these stories, almost always employed by somewhat-organized criminals, almost always ludicrously simple for the severity of the crimes alluded to. Still, the Victorians had SO MUCH correspondence, and the easiest way to hide a cypher is for nobody to think the cyphertext is important. Given the rest of the context, the postmark probably gave Trevor as much information as the message itself.

[akumanoken]

Allow me to rant here so i can get it off my chest and move on so it's not plaguing me all night.

So... unemployment. Been in it for a while now, not gotten a goddamn thing. I thought it was because of the paperwork they wanted because I had to mail shit back and one of them was even like hey mail this by the time you get it or we won't give you shit and I rushed to the mailbox.

but fast forward and still nothing... it's citing active issues, and under reason?? Discharge.

Now this is one of two things: either shit got lost in the mail and they never got the letter they wanted

OR

I'm saying it's because I lost my voice and didn't have any more PTO so the job couldn't hold my position, and the job is saying I JUST DIDN'T SHOW THE FUCK UP.

Now, I'm HOPING it's not the latter because then it's going against everything we went through and documented... I'm hoping it's just they didn't have something because it got lost or it was just postmarked wrong and something I can fix... but believe me when I say I will be beyond livid if it's the latter. My bf keeps wanting to sue them because there were clearly other things I could do but they just didn't want me because I couldn't talk. I have said I just want to move on, but I do not like being called a liar, and everyone who's shoved shit down my throat and said there's nothing wrong with me is... just... my doctor who I went to was like "I can't keep doing this because I'm not doing anything for you the ENT should...." and then says "I'm not saying you're lying." And I'm like that wasn't anything in my head at all I was more concerned that you weren't going to sign the papers than you thinking I was lying. I wouldn't come over here and pay you fucking money to lie.

But I'm simply sitting here trying to get it off my chest because it will fester there and that's the last thing I need. If you read all this thanks and I'm sorry if I dragged your mood. I'm going to try to start doing things so I can get my mood back up but ugh all I want to do is move forward but this fucking company will not let me.

[sailor-scribbles]

Patron

Mamoru was puzzled. Sitting on the table was a parcel that Usagi had excitedly brought in just a moment ago. It was about the size of a toaster and wrapped in brown paper and twine. The package was addressed to Mamoru but had no return address or markings.

“I wonder what this is.”

“Eh? I thought you would know. Like maybe you ordered a new coffee maker or some books.” Usagi picked up the box and shook it a little. It seemed fairly light. The contents just sounded like paper shifting around inside.

“I don't remember buying anything.”

“Maybe it's a gift!”

That seemed possible. Just last weekend, Mamoru turned a nice round 20 years of age. The official age of adulthood according to Japan. He celebrated appropriately – a night out with friends from college, punctuated with a special surprise when he came home… Usagi wrapped in a bow.

It was a good birthday.

But who else would be sending him something this late?

Mamoru pulled off the twine and started to unwrap it as Usagi looked on curiously. The box seemed oddly scuffed, but ignoring that he pried open the top.

They were photos. Just an huge cache of photos – loose, mostly candid Polaroids, a couple of framed ones as well. Mamoru turned the box over on the table to look at them. As he spread the contents out, he noticed a small envelope along with them.

“They're all of this man and his son.” Usagi had picked up a handful of photos and was flipping through them. And she was right, they were mostly of a dark-haired man and a boy, smiling and waving at the camera. But something tugged at Mamoru's mind as he stared at them. A stack of family photos addressed to him…

“Hey, Mamo-chan, he kinda looks like…” She trailed off, looking from the photos to Mamoru and back again. The unsaid implication hung in the air.

He had already realized it as well. The man looked familiar. The shape of his face, the color of his eyes… were very much like Mamoru's.

“Dad?”

~~~

Mamoru didn't know how long they sat there, slowly sorting through the pictures. Neither he nor Usagi said a thing. Before today he had no photos of his parents. Growing up at the children's welfare center, he had the same as everyone else: food, clothes, and roof over his head. Not much else. Not even memories.

It wasn't until he was old enough to leave the center that he was confronted by an attorney, who told him about the Chiba inheritance. The woman said that, coupled with the insurance money, the accounts had been handled by a private party and kept safe for the day Mamoru turned fifteen. She assured him that he would be well taken care of: an apartment in Tokyo and already registered to attend the prestigious Azabu High next spring. Besides a few assets that were locked away until he was an adult, the rest of the money was his to do as he pleased.

But it was the first item she handed to him that was the most important: a simple one-page family registry, his parents' names typed out neatly on the sheet:

Father: Chiba Ishiei Mother: Chiba Hiyo.

For nearly five years that was all he needed. Mamoru kept it tucked away in a book among many on his shelf, away from prying eyes. After confronting his visions and meeting Usagi, there was never any question about what he left behind.

Until today.

Now his past was laid bare on this small kitchen table. There were so many photos. All of them were of Mamoru and Ishiei – or should I call him Dad he wondered – doing various things. Going to the park, attending a festival, Mamoru's first steps…

He didn't remember any of it.

Mamoru took a closer look at the mailing box, which he now noticed was much older than he first thought. The cardboard was scuffed and scraped, like it had been shipped many times. Various postmarks were stamped all around it, overlapping once there was no room left. He ran his finger over the faded ink. Okinawa, Honolulu, London, New York, Paris… He could just barely make out the full name of the package's original recipient: Chiba Hiyo. His mother's name.

If these photos were his mother's, then who sent them to Mamoru?

His gaze fell on the little yellow envelope that had tumbled out of the box with the pictures. It looked newer than the rest, crisp and bright. Blank.

A sudden panic clenched his heart. Mamoru was six again, waking up alone and confused. Who was he? Did anybody know? For nearly a decade he had waited in that facility for someone to remember him. And only now was there a response. A distant relative? A stranger? Weren't those both the same thing at this point? An unknown person who knew more about Mamoru's childhood than he did.

Was he afraid?

Before he could be overwhelmed, a gentle warmth enveloped Mamoru from behind.

“Mamo-chan. I'm here with you.”

Usagi had at some point gotten up to embrace him, her arms wrapping protectively around his shoulders. Cradled to her chest like this, he softened as her heartbeat steadied his own.

Mamoru reached up for one of her hands, bringing it to his lips to kiss it. He didn't trust himself to speak yet, but hoped that was enough to tell her how much it meant to him. With his other hand, Mamoru finally picked up the envelope and opened it.

Inside was a letter. He read it silently as Usagi looked over his shoulder, still keeping him in her arms.

Chiba Mamoru

These belong to you. I think it's about time for both of us to have closure. If you'd like to meet, I'll be waiting at Cafe Toujour, August 30th at 3pm. This will be last and only time.

Your benefactor, Kusaka Toshie

It was short, almost terse.

“Kusaka Toshie…” Mamoru repeated the name under his breath. It didn't ring any bells.

“Do you know him?” she asked softly.

“I don't recognize it but…”

He remembered what that attorney had said those five years ago. “A private party” had handled Mamoru's funds while he was at the welfare home. Was it this Kusaka person?

“….it's complicated,” Mamoru sighed. His brain was exhausted from running in circles. It wasn't that he didn't want to share this with her, but Mamoru himself didn't understand that part of his life very well. Somehow, it seemed a lot scarier than fighting aliens or evil. At least he had practice with that.

Usagi didn't press it, instead kissing the top of his head comfortingly. She picked up one of the photos and smiled at the scene: Ishiei giving toddler Mamoru a piggyback ride.

“You look really happy in these.”

She held him closer as he kissed her hand again.

What to do about the letter could wait until tomorrow.

(an extra fanfic bit from this.)

[charincharge]

I Don't Want To Wait, forty-six

rowaelin high school bffs au masterlist

AN: We're baaaaack. In case you missed it, chapters will no longer have tag lists (tumblr desktop has decided on limiting the amount of tags to 50 per post, and that just doesn't work for me!). If you want updates, the easiest way is to put this account on notification or subscribe to my A03 page. Alright, without further ado, let's get back to the story!

. . .

Dear Rowan,

Surprise! As I write this, you are in the other room with my dad and Lorcan, trying to do some hundred pushup challenge. And, I had to excuse myself to write this letter to sneak into your bag before you leave tomorrow morning, first because I don’t want to waste a second of time, and second… you might have looked a little too good doing pushups. You’re getting really strong. Do you think you could do a push up with me on your back? I bet after this summer is over you’ll be able to. Sigh. I can’t believe you’re going to be gone the whole summer. I miss you so much already, and you’re not even gone yet. I want to hear every detail of your summer, okay? No detail is too small. And I’ll tell you all about how lifeguarding goes, too. Speaking of, I’ve included a picture of me in my uniform, since you won’t be here to see it in person. I was going to text it to you, but I decided I should print it out so you can keep it next to your bed. That way, any girl who walks into your room will know you are NOT available. I love you, Ro. Write me back ASAP! (I know you can probably call and email, too, but you promised letters!). Sending you a thousand kisses.

xx, Aelin

. . .

Dear Aelin,

Have I told you lately that you’re the best girlfriend? Because you are. Thank you for the letter and the picture. Leaving you in Orynth felt like leaving part of my heart behind, and I love that you thought to send you with me. Plus, that picture? There aren’t enough words in the dictionary to describe how stunning you are. I can’t believe I’m missing a whole summer of you in that uniform???? Feel free to mail more pictures. It’s a good thing you didn’t text because there is absolutely no cell service here. Apparently, we’re right in the middle of some mountain range, and it makes phone use really spotty. So, I guess it’s good we got this letter sending thing started already. I plan on writing as often as I can, although I’m not sure how much that will be. Our first program event is tonight. We’re going to have evaluations of our playing to see how we’ll be split up into smaller groups for the summer. The schedule is pretty intense. Breakfast at six, lunch at one, and dinner at seven. With practice from 7-1, 2-7, and then gym training from 8-10. I’m tired just thinking about it.

Also, you silly girl, you definitely don’t need to worry about anyone wondering if I’m available. The first thing I did was tell my roommate about you. And there are no girls here. Just an entire floor full of lacrosse-playing dudes. Since the campus is so remote, we’re pretty much the only people here. They’re doing crazy construction here over the summer, so we’re literally some of the only people here. Just us and the construction crew. Haven’t seen another human on campus, and certainly not a female one, haha. But you shouldn’t be worried about that anyway, you know you’re the only person I’ve ever had eyes for. Did you see what I left for you? Your dad promised he’d give the bag of hoodies to you as soon as I left. I hope they bring you a tiny bit of comfort while I’m away. They are ON LOAN, and I’d like them back, though. Okay? Love you a thousand loves. Can’t wait to hear from you. (I want all the mundane details too).

xoxo, Rowan

Postmarked: June 7

. . .

Rowan! Finallllly. Here I was thinking you’d forgotten all about me. Please ignore my last three voicemails when you get them. I was getting stressed that I hadn’t heard from you, even though Aunt Maeve said you were probably just busy and she’d gotten an email from the program director letting the parents all know about the lack of phone use on campus. I can’t believe you don’t have phone service. Do they not have wifi either? What kind of hack college in this training program at? Sorry to be snippy. I just miss you.

I looooove my hoodies, but they’re already losing their scent. Elide has been making fun of me for wearing them every day (because it’s definitely too hot to be wearing a hoodie), but I need them to survive. (It’s extremely cute that you think you’re ever getting them back – sorry, but they’re mine now!).

It’s only been a week, and I feel like I’m going through withdrawals. Every time something happens, I turn to tell you, only to realize you’re not here and getting sad all over again. I did make a list of the most important things to include in my letter though. First, Lorcan officially started his firefighter training! It’s weird going back to the beach and not having him there, but lifeguarding has been pretty fun. The whistle is the absolute best. How did you not tell me how much fun it is to have a whistle??? Second, Rhoe has started letting me practice driving more, and I’m getting SO GOOD! I’m planning on taking the test at the end of the month. Cross your fingers and toes for me, okay? Ugh, and I had more written in my journal to tell you, but I put my iced coffee on the page and can’t read the rest. UGH! This is what I get for having an extra coffee today. I’m sure I’ll remember by our next letter. I await to hear from you with bated breath. Seriously, tell me everything. You’ll have two weeks to tell me about by the time you get this. How’s the dorm, besides having no phone service? The food? Your roommate? Do you have just one or more than one? What small group did you end up getting into? Is the schedule as intense as you thought it’d be? Paint me a picture so I feel like I’m there, please. I miss you so much. I miss your kisses so much. Where are my thousand kisses, huh? I thought you’d send some back. Sending you a thousand more.

xx, Aelin

Postmarked: June 14

. . .

Dear Aelin,

I’m so sorry for not sending you back kisses. I’m hoarding them and storing up all my kisses to give to you in person. I don’t want to become completely depleted of kisses. What would happen to me then? I’d probably shrivel up and die. Your kisses are the only thing powering me through this week. When they said Lacrosse Intensive, they weren’t messing around. There’s never a moment of the day where I’m not playing, learning strategy or working out. The thought of kissing you is the only thing that keeps me going. Which… all the guys in my group have figured out, and they really enjoy giving me a hard time. It’s my own fault for hanging up that picture of you next to my bed and talking about you nonstop. I should have known better. You look too hot in your lifeguard uniform. It should be illegal. And all the guys know it, too.

Actually, I’d like to send you a blanket apology for ever having to deal with teenage boys. Myself included. We are all disgusting. So, so disgusting. I thought I had a pretty dirty imagination when it came to you, but the stuff these guys say is so much worse than I could possibly have ever come up with. The things that come out of their mouths should never ever be repeated. It turns out living with dudes 24/7 is gross. We’re always hungry or horny, and we smell so bad (the constant training isn’t helping that and the water pressure in our showers is barely a trickle). Please pass my apologies onto Aunt Maeve, too, please.

Okay, I’m sorry to keep this kind of short, but I’ve got to run back to practice. I love you so much.

xoxo, Rowan

PS – Good luck on your drivers test!

Postmarked: June 21

. . .

My dearest Rowan,

You are officially hearing from a licensed driver!!!! Yup, I did it. I passed. On the first try. Everyone is extremely proud of me. (Especially my dad). To celebrate, a bunch of us are going to the drive-in tonight. I get to drive! It’s the Princess Bride. I’m going to spend the entire time quoting it and annoying the crap out of Manon and Elide I’m sure, but I can’t help it. Did I tell you that Manon has started coming to the beach in the skimpiest bikinis I’ve ever seen? She and Elide aren’t back together yet, but if Elide’s staring is any indication, it’s only a matter of time. But for now they’re “friends” who stare at each others’ boobs a lot, haha.

So, you have a dirty imagination when it comes to me, hmmm? I hope you’re taking notes from your camp friends because I wouldn’t mind putting any of that into action. … you are making friends, right? You haven’t mentioned anyone. Should I be worried? know you’re training most of the time, but they’re not all bad, are they?

Speaking of new friends, I’ve been hanging out a lot with Chaol and Dorian? They’re in charge of the snack shack this year, and befriending them has gotten me many a free ice cream sandwich. They’re actually coming to the movie tonight, too. I’ve only really spent time with them in my science classes before now (well, besides that awful Homecoming date with Chaol) – I didn’t realize how funny they are. I know you think Chaol is kind of a stick in the mud, but Dorian is so wild, they balance each other out. And they’ve been friends for just as long as we have, and it’s nice to have someone who understands that. We’ve been having a lot of fun. They’re also the only ones who aren’t sick of me talking about you, too, so I really appreciate that.

Because I talk about you….alllll the time. Every little thing that happens I find some way to relate it back to you. Like, the other day Dorian brought a chocolate pudding cup, and I started laughing hysterically remembering how when we were in middle school you bet me ten bucks I couldn’t eat the whole cup in one bite. I did it successfully, but then you made a funny face, and I snorted and chocolate pudding came out my nose. It hurt so bad, but it was worth it. I can’t believe you still like me after you’ve seen chocolate pudding come out of my nose. Have I mentioned lately that I love you and miss you terribly? Sending you a thousand more kisses (don’t want you to become depleted of kisses!).

xx, Aelin

Postmarked: June 28

. . .

Ace, we’re officially at the halfway mark.

In five weeks, I’ll be back home in Orynth. And honestly, I can’t wait. I didn’t realize how hot the south was. Yesterday was over 115 degrees, and we still trained all day. I fell asleep as soon as I finished in the gym last night. I didn’t even shower (I know, I’m disgusted with myself, too, but I did warn you that this camp was making me more disgusting right?). I did wake up early this morning to get one in before breakfast, but I don’t know why I bothered. It’s already up to 100 degrees and the sun is barely out yet. So… mundane details? The food is pretty solid. Nothing like Maeve’s, of course, but acceptable. Or maybe I’m just so hungry that it doesn’t matter to me anymore. I think I’m going through a growth spurt or something – I’ve never been this hungry in my life. Last night I had three plates of meatloaf. I don’t even like meatloaf!

I laughed extremely hard at your letter. Yes, of course I remember the pudding cup incident. And believe it or not, it made me love you even more. Because you didn’t care about laughing and looking ridiculous in front of me. You’re adorable, even with pudding coming out of your nose. Mm… now I want pudding. See?! Hungry. All the time. I think I have some almonds in my desk. Sorry, that’s not important. Moving on to much more important things.

CONGRATS ON YOUR LICENSE!!!! Can’t wait to have you drive me around for a change ;)

Yes, I am making friends. I actually really like my roommate. His name is Vaughn, and he’s from up north, too. He’s in a pretty serious relationship, too, so we get each other. He’s the only one who hasn’t made a lewd comment about your bathing suit pic. He’s got another friend here from his lacrosse team, Malakai, and we’re all in the same small group, so we hang out a fair amount.

Oh! I forgot to tell you – you’ll never guess who came as a junior coach for the second half of the summer? You really will never guess, so I’ll just tell you. Nox fucking Owens. YEAH! That one. The one responsible for the disaster of last summer. I told him that we were together now, and he didn’t seem surprised in the slightest. He said he always knew you were my girl. Pretty sure I gasped when he said that. Gods, sometimes I think about last year and feel so dumb all over again. Let’s never be that dumb ever again, okay? Pinky promise and seal with a kiss?

Anyway, He played for Rifthold last year, but I guess Antica is trying to recruit him, so he’s testing out their program by helping coach us. I forgot what a good player is. I spent so much of last year irrationally hating him, but he’s actually pretty cool. Shut up, I know you’re laughing at me. I can hear it from here.

So, Manon and Elide are back on? I have to say I’m slightly surprised Lorcan didn’t make a move on Elide when they were broken up. How is he, by the way? He’s been missing from your updates. Is everything okay with you guys? You’re not fighting, are you?

I love you and am sending you back a handful of kisses (can’t give them all away). Halfway, halfway, halfway. We got this. Okay, sending more kisses. I think we both need them.

xoxo, Rowan

Postmarked: July 5

. . .

Ace, I know I just talked to you today (and I also sent you a letter last week so I’m doubling up), but I had to write to you again. Hearing your voice was absolutely magical. I don’t even care that I missed out on our day at the amusement park (though, I owe Vaughn and Malakai a hundred pushups since I stupidly bet them I wouldn’t be distracted by my phone – I didn’t think there’d actually be service, since we weren’t going that far away from campus!). But, baby, it was completely worth it just to hear you talk. I could have listened to your voice forever.

I still can’t believe you’re driving. Am I even going to recognize you when I come back, seeing you behind the wheel? What car have you been driving? I didn’t even ask. Rhoe’s? Wait, have you been driving my jeep? …I know I said you could, but I kind of meant when I was there so I could see it. The idea of you driving my car is, uh… pretty sexy. And I’d like to be there to see it. Damn it, now I’m imagining it. Yeah. Sexy.

I’m glad you and Lorcan aren’t fighting – although it does kindaaa sound like you’re maybe jealous of him a little bit? (Don’t shoot the messenger!). I think it’s sweet. I know you’re still mad that he grabbed the phone from you, but it was nice to hear him too. It sounds like fire academy is kicking his ass as much as lacrosse is kicking mine. Don’t be too hard on him. He loves you, too, you know. He just shows it in weird ways sometimes… like annoying the crap out of you. It’s nice to know that things aren’t changing THAT much with me gone.

Okay, well, nothing much has happened since I talked to you earlier that I need to update you on. You’re pretty much caught up. I had McDonalds for dinner and feel a little nauseous (it’s been way too long since I had fast food, I forgot how greasy it is, how do you eat that shit?). I hope I’ll be able to sleep tonight, but I honestly feel so wired after talking to you, I’ll probably be up all night thinking about you.

I love you so much, Aelin. I’m so glad you’re having a good summer and not just moping around (I knew you wouldn’t – if anyone around here is going to be moping, it’s definitely me, but I don’t have time to mope unfortunately). Okay, I love you. Did I already say that? Sorry. I can’t help it. I want to say it over and over and over. I love you I love you I love you. Sending you a thousand kisses (I’m all loaded up on your voice so I have extra kisses to send).

Alright, uh… I have a situation I have to go deal with now that I keep thinking about kissing you. Okay, maybe I’m thinking about more than kissing you. Have I told you how much I miss you today? (Kidding, I know I told you about a thousand times).

xoxo, Rowan

Postmarked: July 12

. . .

ROWAN!!!!

I’m still riding high from hearing your voice today. I honestly can’t believe it – it feels like a dream. When I saw your name flash on my phone I thought for sure I was hallucinating. I can’t tell you how relieved I am that I’m not insane, and that I got to hear all about your summer so far. I’m so glad they finally gave you all a real day off, and I hope you finally went on a few of the rides with the boys instead of letting me talk your ear off. And I know you told me not to apologize, but I feel terrible! You were supposed to have a day off, full of fun!

I love that you are making friends. Vaughn and Malakai sounded extremely nice – you didn’t need to snap at them for giving you a hard time for calling me as soon as you had a bar of phone service. They wanted to hang out with you! I don’t blame them – I wish I could hang out with you, too. Only a month now until you come home.

Lorcan wants me to tell you AGAIN that he’s incredibly offended I haven’t been including him in my letters to you (it’s not my fault that he’s insufferable since he got into the fire academy – all he does is go on runs with my dad and hang out in my kitchen eating us out of house and home! Not the most interesting of updates). Seriously, if someone had told me last year that Lorcan’s new bff would be MY DAD, I would have called them a liar. But they’re almost as inseparable as we are – it’s so annoying. I didn’t ask for an older brother! I’m supposed to be the only child! The favorite! You need to come back and set things right again, okay?

I miss you so much – I didn’t know I could miss someone as much as I miss you. But tonight I’m going to sleep with your voice echoing through my mind, so I know I’ll sleep well. Love you love you love you love you.

SWAK (that means Sealed With A Kiss), Aelin

Postmarked: July 12

. . .

Dear Aelin,

I thought hearing your voice would make me feel better, but getting that small taste of you has sent me into a spiral of hopelessness. I miss you so much more than I thought, and my ability to pretend has run out.

Each morning, I wake, staring at your face, longing for the days to pass quicker, and return to bed feeling even more restless that I can’t smell your shampoo or taste the berry flavor of your chapstick and the faint sweetness of your tongue. I think about all the times I felt your soft skin beneath my fingers, grasping at air and wondering if it wasn’t just some incredibly vivid dream. Your curves live imprinted on the insides of my eyelids, taunting me, knowing I’m too far away to reach them. My imagination runs wild under the cover of darkness, thinking of what lies beneath the thick straps of your lifeguard uniform, and what would happen if they slipped off your shoulder. The memory of your flesh appears and then disappears, the edges blurring until they disappear into a dream-like fog. I’ve lost my grasp.

I am in hell without you – destined to be tortured until the day I can wrap my arms around your waist and pull you against me solidly, and be reassured that you are real, that you are mine. I long to press my lips against the crook of your neck and inhale. When I see you again, I don’t plan on letting you go. Ever.

Three weeks, my love.

xoxo, Rowan

Postmarked: July 19

. . .

Ummmmm…. Ro, as much as I love your flowery words and sexy poetry (which, I really do, more of that please), I know you. What’s really going on? Sorry for the short letter, but I’m running late to work, and your last letter (though beautiful) was deeply concerning. Talk to me, drama queen. What’s up?

xx, Aelin

Postmarked: July 26

. . .

Ace,

How are you so in tune with me that you can read between the lines and get to my core? I wasn’t going to talk about it (because I’m so fucking nervous), but since you called me out, I guess I have no choice, huh?

We’re in the last stretch of camp – which is awesome. I’m so tired and sore, I can’t wait to go home and take a long Epsom salt bath (or maybe recruit you to give me a massage? A man can dream). But, I’m not going to lie, I’ve also gotten pretty damn good at lacrosse. I mean, obviously. That sounds so stupid to say. But, when we do scrimmages, Coach Sartaq has started putting me in the group of strongest players. Even Nox said he’s impressed with my improvement, and he thought I was already pretty good. I guess I didn’t really think about it, but I’ve always been a pretty good player. But now? It’s like… next level. My speed has increased a ton, and my footwork is second nature now. I’ve never really had anything come easily to me before, and it’s weird how much this game feels a part of me now. I always knew I wanted to play in college, but I never really thought about how it would all play out.

Coach Sartaq sat us down and let us know that for our last week of the intensive, he’s invited scouts from all the college lacrosse teams to have a first look at our playing. That means I have coaches coming to watch me play and see if they want me to join their college team. A LOT of them.

I knew that was going to happen at some point – they told me when I agreed to come to the intensive that scouts would be looking at my playing, but they lulled me into a false sense of security with these long ass, hot days and endless practices. My mind became so numb, everything became so routine, and I became so utterly exhausted that I forgot the whole purpose of this camp. Recruitment for college.

I’m kind of freaking out. I wish you were here to calm me down. I know we’ve talked about college a little bit, but this could be THE moment for me, you know? I could come back to Orynth knowing where I’m going to college, with a recruitment letter in my hand. Which is insane to think about. I thought I’d just be sending tape from last season out to the scouts. I didn’t think that they’d come to see me play now. It’s not like I’ve never been watched by scouts before. They came to a few games last season and the season before, but I never knew they were there until after I was finished playing, so I didn’t have time to get in my head about my playing. Now, I’m so far in my head I don’t know that I can see a way out.

What if no one wants me? What if I fuck up my playing because I’m so nervous and I miss my shot to get recruited? What am I going to do if I don’t get recruited? That’s my one shot at college. The restaurant doesn’t make that much. We’re comfortable, but it’s not like she has tons saved for college. If I mess it up, I won’t be able to afford to go. There’s no backup plan. Aunt Maeve has been banking on this. It just feels like a lot of pressure. And then, what about you? What if I get recruited to a college that you hate? What if that’s my only option? Or one really far away? I don’t know why I didn’t spend more time thinking about this. I’m really nervous, Aelin. I know I don’t usually talk about my feelings that much – I didn’t realize how much I had stored up about this until it became a reality. And now the reality is coming closer and closer, and, yeah, I’m just really freaking out.

They’re coming next week. My entire future could be decided NEXT WEEK. So, yeah, I’m fucking terrified. I’d much rather think about how much I miss kissing you than fucking up my entire future. What happens if I fuck everything up?

I wish I could call you. I wasn’t kidding about hearing your voice. It soothes me. I think you’re the only one who can help me when I get like this. I’m trying to imagine what you’d say. Probably something like – don’t be dumb, Ro, you’re being completely irrational! Am I close? Wait, no – maybe something a little more encouraging to follow that up – like, I’ve worked hard and my playing has never been better, and whatever happens happens and we’ll figure it out. Right? If I concentrate hard enough, I can almost hear you saying it. And I can definitely see you rolling your wide blue eyes at me.

God, I miss your eyes. The picture I have of you doesn’t nearly do them justice (plus, I end up looking at your cleavage a lot more than I should admit – please burn this letter so your dad can never see it). But I miss your eyes. They change color depending on your mood. Did you know that? I can always tell when you’re mad because the yellow ring around your iris gets a little bigger and it flickers like I’m looking at the tendrils of a fire. And when you’re sad, the blue deepens, so it looks almost blue-grey, like a stormy sea. And when you laugh, they’re the clearest turquoise like the tropical waters of the southern continent and the yellow turns almost golden, warmer, like honey. How’s that for poetry? It’s the most I can do right now in my current state of panic, so I hope it’ll do. I promise you’ll get much more in the future. I could wax poetic about you forever.

Okay, I feel slightly calmer just having told you. Thank you for pressing. I love that you know me better than anyone else. That you could tell just through a letter that something was up. Hoarding your kisses until I see you next. I’m going to need them to get through the next two weeks.

I can do this, right? (Lie to me).

Missing you more than I can even say.

xoxo, Rowan

Postmarked: August 2

. . .

Oh, Rowan, I’m so sorry you’ve been going through this all by yourself. I wish I could call you and calm you down, but you did a pretty good impression of me. That’s exactly what I would say – eye roll included.

But I wish I could do more. When I got your letter and saw how many pages it was, I nearly fell off my chair. I love you, but you’re not the most talkative human I’ve ever met, and you certainly don’t share your feelings so easily. I’m glad you got it all out (all five pages back and front!). But I have a little bit more to say, so hold on, okay?

You are one of the most amazing, spectacularly talented humans I’ve ever met. You were the only sophomore who made the Varsity lacrosse team, and you were MVP in your junior championship game. You were so talented that you got invited to a super exclusive, fancy shmancy program all summer, and like you said, your skills have only improved since then. You’re going to knock those recruiters all on their butts. They’re going to be fighting hand over foot trying to get you to go to their college. You’re nervous you’re going to blow it? I’m not. I’m nervous that you’re going to come back with multiple offers from the best colleges in the world, each one better than the last. Because you know that’s what’s going to happen, Ro. They’re going to love you. They’re going to be offering you the world to try and get you to go to their school. Just make sure you don’t forget about me when you’re a top college athlete, okay? I knew you when, and I always knew you’d succeed.

I hope this reaches you before the recruiters come so you know I’m crossing all my fingers and toes for you and sending good vibes into the universe (can you feel them?).

Seriously, you’re going to crush it. I’m not worried about you at all. Just take a deep breath and have a good look at my cleavage (heheh) and let all the stress fall away. You got this. TWO THUMBS UP!!!!

And if you need a bit of a distraction, here’s one – Lysandra’s back. I hadn’t seen her all summer, but I ran into her while I was filling up the jeep with gas (yes, I’ve been driving your jeep, I’m sorry, I swear I’m being SO CAREFUL – I just love it so much, it smells like you and Maeve said it was fine!). Anyway, back to Lys. She was there filling up her mom’s Range Rover and totally avoiding eye contact with me, so I wasn’t going to be the first to say anything. I tried reaching out to her and she made it super clear that I was not going to be forgiven, but get this – as she was finishing, she looked up at WAVED at me before getting back into the car. Can you believe it??? She looked okay. She cut her hair, but it looks healthier. She looks healthier. I don’t really know what to make of it all. That’s a positive, right? That she waved? She could have gone on ignoring me, but she didn’t. I’m taking it as a good omen.

We’re going to go into senior year knowing where we’re going to college and surrounded by the best friends, and it’s all going to be perfect and amazing. You’re coming home SO SOON!!!! And then good luck ever having me let you out of my sight again ;)

Remember – I’m thinking of you every moment of every day, and you’re going to rock your final week of camp.

SEE YOU NEXT WEEK!!!!

xx, Aelin

Postmarked: August 9

. . .

Dear Aelin,

You were right, per usual. You have a habit of that, hm? This is going to be a short letter because I’m about to hop on a bus back to you, but I couldn’t resist sending one more. This letter thing was pretty fun, but I can’t wait until I can call and text you – I’m going to be blowing up your phone so much, you’re going to have to put me on mute. Just kidding, please don’t do that. I’d be really sad.

Anyway, we’re going to have some things to discuss when I get back because I have some pretty big news. I’m not going to put it in a letter, so you’ll have to wait until you see me face to face, but that’s going to happen before you even get this letter.

I’ll see you TODAY in eight hours. (Longest bus ride everrrrr). I’ll be sure to sleep through the whole thing so I’m awake enough to hang out tonight. Promise.

Love you. Sending you thousands of kisses (I’ll collect when I see you).

xoxo, Rowan

Postmarked: August 16

~*~

[holycatsandrabbits]

Tollense, an original serial romance by Dannye Chase, Chapter 6

A history professor falls in love with his best friend, a 3000-year-old vampire.

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Chapter 6

CW: blood, injury

2003 (Four years later)

When Liam brought in his mail that afternoon, he didn’t realize what a dangerous act it was. He should have, he supposed. He’d been getting threatening letters now for over ten years, since before he’d met Kurt. Their postmarks varied and there were no fingerprints. The police couldn’t figure out who was sending them, and neither could Kurt, who’d started investigating as soon as he’d learned of them.

Liam assumed that either he’d done something in his past to offend someone, or that he was a random victim of someone targeting a university with anti-academic talk. The letters said clearly, I will kill you, but Liam had long since stopped believing that it was an actual threat.

But it wasn’t that the letters didn’t upset Liam, and ironically, it was good that they did, because Liam’s reaction to the letter in the mail that day alerted Kurt. Four years ago, on a beautiful night in Germany, Kurt had drunk blood from Liam’s wrist. They’d been close before that, but sharing blood had given Kurt an even greater insight into Liam’s feelings. Kurt knew when Liam was unhappy or frightened, so when Liam found the letter with the typed address, knowing what it likely was, Kurt abruptly appeared beside him, in time to pluck the envelope from Liam’s hand.

“I’ve told you to let me open these,” Kurt scolded mildly.

Liam leaned back against his kitchen counter, and waved a hand in unsolicited permission. “By all means.”

Kurt was frowning, but otherwise he wasn’t too upset. Liam could tell because despite the fact that Kurt had just teleported into Liam’s kitchen, he looked more or less human. He must have been outside somewhere because his dark hair was a bit wind-blown. Liam wished that they had the kind of relationship where Liam could run his fingers through it to settle it down.

Kurt read the letter quietly and then tossed it onto the table in disgust. “The usual,” he said. “When I figure out who’s sending these—”

“They’re harmless,” Liam said, which on that particular day was highly ironic, but they didn’t know it yet.

“They scare you. That’s harm enough.” Kurt reached for the rest of the mail that Liam had set on his table, sorting through it quickly, apparently approving of it. He came to the package last. “What’s this?”

“I ordered some books.”

Kurt shot him a look of amused exasperation. “You have no room for more books. You’re going to have to buy a second house.”

“I’ll find a place for them. Maybe I could take out a wall— what is it?”

Kurt held the package in his hands. “This is awfully light for books.”

That was the last thing Liam remembered until he felt Kurt’s hand on his cheek. Kurt’s fingers were always cold, and the feeling drew Liam back toward consciousness. Kurt had one hand cradling his face, while another finger traced a slow line down from the top of Liam’s forehead to a spot between his eyes.

Liam realized that Kurt was saying something. “That’s right. Focus on me.”

Kurt’s finger traced its downward path again, and Liam felt himself growing more aware of his surroundings, but mostly more aware of Kurt, who was holding his gaze in an inescapable, hypnotic way. Liam could smell smoke and something charred, but he felt no fear, not even of Kurt, who seemed something entirely other than human at the moment. Something very large, because he’d have to be large to hold all the emotions that Liam could feel filling the room, wafting around like clouds. Some were dark and some very light, and they were all Kurt and Liam, mixed up together.

“There you are, my love,” Kurt said softly. “Just like that. Focus on me.”

Liam moved a little, shifting on the kitchen floor, but Kurt put a hand on his shoulder. “Stay still. Let me look at you.” His finger retraced its path down Liam’s forehead, which had the effect of recentering Liam’s attention on Kurt’s bright green eyes.

After another minute, Kurt moved back and released him. “You’re all right,” he said heavily. “No internal injuries. No concussion. Just three fairly minor lacerations to the left leg, and I’ve taken away the pain from those. I shouldn’t have let you stand so close.”

Liam blinked a couple of times as he realized that now that he could see past Kurt’s eyes, Kurt looked very different, but not at all in a mesmerizing, inhuman way. “You’re hurt,” Liam gasped.

Kurt stepped out of reach before Liam could grab him. “You have to be careful with my blood,” he warned. “Don’t get it in your mouth or the cuts on your leg. You don’t— you don’t need it right now.”

Kurt appeared to have taken the brunt of what must have been a package bomb. Liam’s kitchen table had a blast mark on it, and the chairs had all been knocked over. Bits of paper drifted lazily through the hazy air. Kurt was actually far more damaged than the kitchen, with a large wound on his shoulder. But the wound was not bleeding, and Liam realized that though Kurt’s clothing was shot through with holes, some of them bloodstained, the skin underneath was unmarked.

Kurt turned a chair right side up, and dropped into it wearily. “Ow,” he said, sounding as if he might be irritated by a paper cut.

“Are you okay?” Liam demanded.

Kurt waved a dismissive hand. “Been blown up before. There was a grenade at the Somme, for one. Not a pleasant afternoon.”

“But you— you won’t—”

“I’m fine,” Kurt assured him. “But if I’m going to convince the police that I wasn’t injured, I’ll need to eat something. I’m not quite strong enough for group mind control right now.”

“Well, I’m right here,” Liam said hastily, starting to climb to his feet. “Already bleeding too.”

“Sit down,” Kurt instructed in a sharp voice, and Liam was so startled that he obeyed. “You’re injured.”

“Only mildly. You said.”

“Still no.”

Liam tried not to be too disappointed. “Well— Fern then.” Fern was Kurt’s new love interest, and, as usual, was one of Liam’s history graduate students. She was doing her dissertation on World War Two. Kurt always showed enough of his non-human nature to his romantic interests for them to guess what he was before they became his lovers (and a source of blood). So Fern now had the advantage of dating a man who had fought in World War Two and many wars before that.

“Yeah. I called her,” Kurt said. And it wasn’t long before Liam heard someone come in his front door and make their way toward the kitchen.

“Oh my god,” Fern exclaimed, her eyes wide. “What happened? I had the weirdest feeling that I needed to get here right away.” Apparently, Liam realized, when Kurt said he’d called her, he hadn’t meant on the phone.

“Package bomb,” Kurt said.

Liam nearly spoke over him. “Kurt’s injured. He needs blood.”

Fern’s eyes widened even more. “All right. I’ll call 911.”

Liam gave Kurt a confused look. “Oh. I thought you always told them about you before you became lovers.” He realized his misstep when Fern froze on her way to the telephone.

Kurt pressed his lips together, and Liam couldn’t tell if he was fighting a smile or a frown. “You’re getting a little ahead of me there.”

“Oh,” Liam said. “Sorry. How embarrassing.” He looked up at Fern. “It’s okay, Kurt can’t be killed. Or he might actually be already dead.”

Kurt had opened his mouth to say something but now it just hung open.

“I’m sorry,” Liam said. “I’m not good at this.”

Fern did look like she was a little more concerned about Liam than Kurt, but she turned to Kurt, taking in his appearance. The wound on his shoulder was now nothing more than a dark purple bruise. Liam wondered how bad the injuries had been before Liam had seen them.

“Are you a vampire, then?” Fern asked. “That was number two on my list.”

“What was number one?” Kurt asked.

“Street magician who desperately wanted to look like a vampire.”

Kurt laughed, sounding delighted. “I don’t know that I’ve had that one before.”

“You need blood?” Fern asked. She put a hand on Kurt’s uninjured shoulder.

He focused his green eyes on her, with no hint of hypnosis now. “I do. But you’re not my only option. I will be fine even if you say no.”

Fern shook her head. “I’m happy to.”

Kurt nodded. “Liam, we’ll be right back. You just rest. Then we’ll get the police here and figure out who did this to you.”

Liam let his head fall back against his cupboard as Kurt and Fern disappeared. He felt oddly calm, and wondered if that was still Kurt’s influence. Even knowing that Kurt was off with someone else, drinking blood from them instead of Liam, didn’t bother him as much as it usually did. Kurt cared for him. Liam had known it, but right now he could feel it, and he thought Kurt could probably feel it back.

************

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Updates Fridays on Ao3 and DannyeChase.com (rated E), and Tumblr (rated T)

Want to create fic, art, or other works based on this series? Please do! Just dm or tag me.

My previous serials are for Good Omens: Mr. Fell's Bookshop and Love's Endless Light

My Carrd

[jangmi-latte]

May I request a scenario of Riddle, Leona and Azul with fem reader who happens to be a famous singer in her world for her powerful and mature voice but she kept it a secret until she was found out by the said characters and fell for her powerful voice.

❞ 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠! ❝

➻ content: a singing..donut..

➻ warnings: none

➻ comments: muwah muwah

࿐. . . RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

As always, Riddle was scouting the grounds of Heartslabyul. Every student he would pass by would either go quiet or stiffen up. Feared as always. That wasn't the case in your place.

You had your earphones in while painting the roses red in the rose maze. You stood quite deep into the maze, you were alone. Of course, creating small reminders to know your way out. Such as tying some white ribbons on certain postmarks along the way. Humming along to the song that was ringing in your ears, you began to remember when you were in your homeland.

Everyone loved your voice. Some would say you sounded like a siren, bringing people close to your voice and catching their attention. They loved it. Some kids have even fallen asleep to your sweet serenades and you would willingly sing in the town's square where some would even give you a little reward for being talented.

How you missed it

Deep in your subconscious state, you began to sing along with the tunes in your earphones, "I'm re-reading the letters you wrote me...I'm searching and scanning for answers in every line. For some kind of sign and when you were mine," you sang quite loudly. Singing was your freedom. Your voice bounced and echoed throughout the maze, seemingly catching the dorm leader's attention.

Riddle snapped his head over to the maze and, like in a daze, began to walk towards that lovely echo. He memorized the maze as easy as memorizing his 810 rules. Upon being welcomed by your form, the redhead's breath was caught in his throat. Beautiful and talented were the only words in his mind right now. It is rude to stare, however he couldn't take his eyes off of you, "The world seemed to burn.." you continue to sing.

Your eyes were closed as the paintbrush was now left in the pail and you were twirling the painted rose in between your fingers as you swayed side to side, "Burn.." you sang effortlessly as the word seemed like a spell to those who heard it. It was that beautiful. Just as you turned around, your eyes slowly opened and you let out a noise of surprise, "Riddle!" you exclaimed and your cheeks tinted a light pink as you removed your earphones.

Snapping out of his daze, the said boy blinked and looked away. Damn, he was caught. He cleared his throat, his cheeks the same tint as yours, as he approached you, "You have a beautiful voice," he said and held your hands, "You should sing more," he mumbled and hid his flustered self by kissing your fingers. You let out a small laugh, how melodic it was to Riddle's ears, and kissed his cheek, "Maybe I will."

"You hid it from me. From this day on, you shall sing for me. What is a ruler without showing the beauty and talent of his queen?"

Your heart began to speed up as a tender smile went to your lips. Riddle just had to make you fall for him more, hadn't he?

"Yes, Your Highness," you giggled.

࿐. . . LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

Ah you missed the days. How long has it been since you've been on stage? No one knew what you did before you came into NRC, more like being sucked into the mirror. Neither does Leona know.

You were a theater actress. Singing and acting were your specialties. Especially singing, you love it. Some would even say you were born for the stage and you would be proud of yourself. Reminiscing in those memories, you went to the staircase. It was after school hours anyways.

Leona was back in Savanaclaw, taking his usual nap. He has been waiting for you to come but you were taking long. He would be telling Ruggie to go find you but the hyena had club activities. Sighing, the prince sat up and trudged over to the main building. He had his reasons on why he wanted you at Savanaclaw. Either it was the way your fingers would dance through his hair or your warm body under his arms.

"Perfect.."

You were leaning over the railings of the stairwell. The door was closed and you were alone. You wanted to release your vocals again, "Too late for second guessing. Too late to go back to sleep," you began, "It's time to trust my instincts...Close my eyes and leap," your voice began to grow louder. The echoes of your voice creating a mysteriously calming effect within the stairwell. Anyone who would go would hear your song.

Leona was one of them. Not wanting to go to the main, always crowded, stairs, he went to the smaller stairwell. As he went up, he froze mid-step, "It's time to try...Defying gravity.." was that you? Leona's ears twitched as he slowly began up the stairs again and once he was at the last set of steps, he saw you. Leaning on the railing on the top of the stairs, "I think I'll try....Defying gravity.." you had a smile on your face. You were ethereal. You? Being in a villain school, Leona could hardly believe.

"And you can't pull do-- Leona!" you continued and yet stopped your eyes settled on Leona who was a few steps near you already. He had a ghost smile on his face as he approached you, "Why did you stop?" he said and hugged your waist from behind, "I was about to just lay on the stairs and sleep to your voice," he snickered and gave a small kiss to your cheek. Despite a smile dancing on your lips, your cheeks turned a bright red as you held his hands that was wrapped around you.

"You should start singing more. Makes me sleep better," he hummed and laid his head on your shoulder, "I will. But how about we go back to the dorm? I don't want to carry you back there," you laughed and leaned into his touch.

"Ugh."

࿐. . . AZUL ASHENGROTTO (ft. Floyd & Jade)

"And closed," Jade sighed as he flipped the Mostro Lounge's sign to closed. Floyd was cleaning the countertops and Azul was auditing by the register. You were reading on one of the tables in the cafe after helping the trio clean.

It was a peaceful evening. Quiet even. Floyd and Jade were just helping around and Azul began to sing softly. To them it might've been normal to hear the dorm leader sing out of nowhere, but to you, it was the most beautiful sound to ever resonate in your ears

Smiling, you looked over your shoulder as you watched Azul's lips move to the lyrics of the song. You know this song. Handsome and talented is he. You hummed and went back to your book, listening to your boyfriend's soft vocals. You gave half attention to the words on your lap, to the point that you began to softly sing yourself, "You may be right. You may be wrong. But say that you'll bring me along.."

This did not go unheard by the trio in the room. Azul's blue eyes looked over at your form and a smile went to his lips, "To the world you see. To the world I close my eyes to see. I close my eyes to see.." he began to sing a bit louder. Your eyes stayed focused on the book as you too began to sing louder, "Every night I lie in bed. The brightest colors filled my head.."

Floyd and Jade has stopped and stared at the two as they sung their hearts out. The hyper twin put is phone on record as he leaned over. Their friend looked very happy. Azul just stared at you as your voices synced with each other. Why did you hide this talent from him? You leaned back on the chair, the book now ignored, and sung more, "A million dreams are keeping me awake. I think of what the world could be, a vision of the one I see. A million dreams is all it's gonna take.."

Azul stood from his place and walked over to you, leaning over your form and placing his lips next to your head. Floyd was being a fanboy and Jade was trying to keep him quiet. You looked up at your boyfriend and smiled softly. The last words of the song gracefully slipping out of both of your lips, "A million dreams for the world we're gonna make.."

Azul let out a small chuckle and wrapped an arm around your shoulders then kissing your forehead, "Guppie, that was beautiful," he said. Your hand went through his locks as you leaned against his touch, "You did better yourself, Azul," you smiled.

"YOU GUYS SHOULD DO A DUET FOR THE LOUNGE!!"

You two snapped your head over at Floyd who was cheering and squealing and Jade who was facepalming but giving a thumbs up and a smile to the two of you.

Azul wasn't going to lie. You two would make an amazing duet..

[sinojikai]

My feed is so disorganized lol. Which kinda fits with the topic here! Time for an #instablog. I’m done with trying to prove myself :) I met with my lovely therapist this morning and we had a great discussion about boundaries, and how integral they are to self-respect. You don’t go back to the beast for hugs. Eaten or not, what does that say if you do. I had a friend who decided to call me slow at work and I got fed up, so much so that I left work to prevent anything further, but I realize now that that is not worth my energy. Why did I get fed up? Well because I felt there was truth in what she was saying at that moment, and because I feared that I couldn’t measure up unless I took her heed (mind you this person is six years younger than me), I snapped. And you know what, that was a boundary for me. That was a point where I should have just cut ties and let things move on for me. No? Forgiveness first? Forgiveness doesn’t mean you keep the beast as a friend. Forgiveness means you accept what happens and you find empathy for them. It does not mean admiration. And it does not mean putting yourself second. What I find hard to do is maintaining faith when I fall short, even though, if I am a Christian as I claim, God maintains faith in me even when I do long as I maintain faith in him. Screw it, I enjoy and am edified by Christianity but that is not the end of me. God is not postmarked; He is transcendent… Anyway, I believe that I must have faith that “I was born to exist”: a favorite singer of mine penned that line, look it up; it’s a majestic ballad. My time is running out on this 7:00 lunch break (I started at 2:00 and it’s just how the day lines up) so I have to close. But know your limits, know what will help you grow, and know who is there for your blooming. And as @terrycrews said, “There should be no limits in life but there should be a helluva lot of boundaries.” Have a self. I’m learning to. #selfhelp #selfpreservation #selfadvocacy #boundaries #religion #godsnotdead #personaljesus #breaktime #writersofinstagram #singersongwriter #poetsofig #artworks #mefirst #island #oneandmany #fatherstretchmyhands #keepthefaith #noless (at Belmar, New Jersey) https://www.instagram.com/p/CQuQINDAcOP/?utm_medium=tumblr

[returnsandreturns]

Dunno if you are still doing the Mattfoggy fic thing, but my voting experience: I am in college at another state, and my absentee ballot got mailed to my childhood home, so my mom (go mom!) Mailed it up to me. Voted, and while I get everyone is super concerned with the general presidential election, be sure to vote down ballot and research. In my county, judges are up for reelection (its a yes/no thing, not a running against other people thing) and some of them have preformed gross miscarriages of justice. Doing research on the candidates took me ~3 hrs. Mailed it (my state does it by postmarking, I double checked) and my ballot should arrive to my county on Tuesday. If I can suggest a prompt, college Matt getting a haircut from Foggy (bonus points for clipper feel nice, itchy hair, and "oh no did I make a mistake" heartrate increase ratcheting nerves)

“I can’t promise you won’t regret this,” Foggy says, when he’s got Matt sitting on his desk chair with a towel around his shoulders. Matt gives him a baleful look and he laughs, ruffling his hair. “I’m joking. Mostly.”

“I probably wouldn’t accept this offer if I had literally any money,” Matt says, gravely, “but I trust you.”

“That’s sweet, dude,” Foggy says, sounding genuine. “Let’s see how you feel in, like, fifteen minutes. Tip your head back a little for me.” 

Foggy cuts his own hair and offered to cut Matt’s, too; he said was pretty sure he could do a good job and definitely sure that Matt’s hot enough that he’d either start a new trend or everybody would be too nice to tell him that he looks like an animal attacked his head. 

His choice to accept had nothing to do with the way that Foggy offered while he was literally running his fingers through Matt’s hair. 

“Oops,” Foggy says, softly, heart speeding up a few minutes in. 

“Oops?” Matt repeats.

“Uhm, no big deal, I got this,” Foggy says, quickly, dropping a hand to squeeze Matt’s shoulder before he goes back to it.

“Do you?” Matt asks. 

“Yes, obviously,” Foggy says, scoffing. “I’m incredibly talented at everything I try and have never made a mistake in my life.” 

“You’re really not making me feel better,” Matt says, not actually all that worried because he’s pretty sure that Foggy would stop if he was actually fucking it up. Also, Foggy actually does tend to be good at most things.  

“Hey, how do you feel about buzzcuts?” Foggy asks, laughing when Matt groans. “I jest, Murdock. Almost done.”

Matt keeps shivering when Foggy’s fingers touch his neck. They’re not even cold.

“Okay,” Foggy says, a few minutes later, running his fingers through Matt’s hair in a way that makes Matt’s toes curl a little before ruffling it so little bits of hair fall down around his shoulders. “You’re perfect.” 

“Yeah?” Matt asks, feeling a little dazed.

“A masterpiece,” Foggy says.

Matt blushes and suddenly just gets it. 

He’s got a crush.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

The Origin of MC

Just filling in some blanks here. Heheh

“Are you really okay with leaving her there?”

Principal Hilbert Ron Anjou had just boarded the helicopter and soared into the stormy skies over Tokyo headed for an artificial island. An impossible number of Corpse Guards, zombie creatures enchanted by alchemy, had awakened and answered the call of the Light King’s arrival. Not only would that many creatures overwhelm Japan and cost thousands of lives, they would announce the existence of dragons to the world. The Nations of the world would come across a power more dangerous than nuclear bombs and the resulting slaughter that would come from a new Cold War would make a disaster in Tokyo fade from the history books. They were the last stand against the encroaching horde and the potential world shattering disaster. It was likely that Anjou wouldn't survive this encounter. The possibility of failure was high. Their only hope was to attract all of these beasts and survive that concentrated number of monsters long enough to set off a bomb that would kill them all in an instant.

And yet Caesar was asking about that girl.

Principal Anjou reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a swiss hand powered gold watch. He pressed his thumb and it snapped open. “You lasted five whole minutes. It seems this mission has matured you.”

“Answer the goddamn question.”

The tone in Caesar’s voice would have made even a seasoned mobster beg for his life. Caesar was good at bluffing and bluster and could be intimidating for fun. Anjou turned his head and looked Caesar in the eyes. That icy stare was completely serious. Whatever Anjou said would likely define their entire relationship going forward. Either Anjou would win Caesar over now or potentially end up on a hit list down the line.

Anjou returned the watch to his pocket and  then dug out another object. He handed Caesar a black thumb drive marked with the Cassell World tree. These black drives were top secret and only issued to those directly involved in high level operations. “The password is Lenin.”

When Caesar plugged in the drive into his tablet computer, he had twenty seconds and one chance to enter the password correctly. His eyes widened slightly when Chu Zihang deftly reached over and entered it for him. Caesar leaned away. “Hey! He gave it to me, not you!”

Chu Zihang was expressionless and silent. He knew Caesar had an issue with remembering and entering passwords on the Trieste.

Caesar huffed and looked at the image before him. It was the MC lying covered in cloth on an operating table. An IV was in her arm and an oxygen mask was over her face. She looked asleep.

“When she arrived we thought she was dead. Not only was she frozen solid with no pulse, she was riddled with bullets from large caliber machine gun rounds.”

“Where did she come from?” Caesar flipped to the next picture that displayed the last clothes she wore. It was a colorful and warm coat and dress, like a young girl should wear to a party.

“She came with no postmark or packing slip. It’s not like UPS would deliver cargo like that.” Anjou chuckled. “She was hand delivered to our doorstep like a baby in a basket.”

Caesar flipped to the next picture. There was a note on modern notebook paper that had two numbers on it. “Coordinates?”

“Yes, when we entered the coordinates they took us to the middle of the sea of Japan. Nowhere near Siberia.”

“Then the person who sent her knew about the dragon’s awakening before we did?”

Anjou didn’t turn around. He stared into the stormy sea ahead of them. The dark ocean was foaming white and was hilly with waves, like a moving mountain range. “She also came with two injections of a special serum that would stabilize her bloodline.”

Caesar flipped to that photo of the serum that was entrusted to Chu Zihang. It was labeled in Japanese script with the symbol of the Devil Clan on it. “Who ever sent her... knew… everything?”

“You haven’t written your report yet. If you say they knew everything… then I assume you understand what you're looking at more than I do. What I remember most was when her heart finally started to beat. It was within that hour that I received notification that the dragon embryo was detected at the exact coordinates on the note she came with.”

Anjou sighed. “How could I not send her with you? Hybrids like her are not permitted into Cassell College with good reason. It was a gamble. After all, she could have been sent to sabotage us.” Anjou finally turned to face Caesar, eyes narrowed. “Was she?”

Caesar’s shoulders lowered and released their tension, looking at the tablet. “No. She has been an asset to the mission and knew vital information. I don’t know how we would have made it without her.”

Anjou nodded sagely. “It’s not that I’m okay with leaving her at the Well. I trust that is where she needs to be. Where she was assigned to be by the one who sent her. I believe MC was sent to kill the god.”

Caesar looked up, eyes wide. “Then why bother using the weapon at all? Just shut it down!”

“I’ve left the kinetic weapon in the care of the Vice Principal.” Anjou grinned. “He has the same information I do.”

Caesar sat back in his seat, letting all his breath out. He smiled, running his hands through his hair. “You could have just said that.”

Anjou turned to face front. “Consider it a trust building exercise, my boy!” 

Anjou was serious on the outside but inside he was gleeful. Judging from Caesar’s response alone the MC had made a fantastic impression on her first mission. If she completed this assignment, she was sure to get a passing grade and scholarship at the college! 

[copperbadge]

Hi Sam. Texas started mailing the ballots 45 days before E-Day, haven't gotten mine yet. Early voting here starts the 12th, ends the 29th. Just in case, I've been trying to decide at what point I should assume it's not coming and suit up to cast a provisional vote. Any thoughts on that?

Mm, tough to know. I wouldn’t go in to vote on the dot of the 12th, but I also don’t really think any of the “this is how long mail is taking to deliver” calculations are especially accurate given the WILD UNPREDICTABILITY of the mail these days. (I just bought something that was sent to my actual address in Chicago and yet was somehow misdelivered to Washington state.)

Anyway, I think this hinges on two issues: 1) when your ballot arrives and 2) how fast you can get it in, which in turn hinges on the deadline for absentee ballots being recieved and if there are dropboxes for mail-in ballots in your region. 

I can’t help with #1. As for #2, a quick google seems to indicate that while there are some dropboxes, Abbot is doing his level best to firebomb them, so you’d know better than I would where any might be in your area. Normally, if you’re voting by mail, as long as your vote is postmarked by election day, it will be counted even if it’s received after election day. HOWEVER I’m also seeing some websites say that for Texas, it has to be postmarked by the 3rd at 5pm and received by the 4th at 5pm. Which is fucking nuts so I think you should probably do a bit of research and find out if that’s actually so.

I wouldn’t try to vote in-person on election day or indeed during the last four days or so of early voting. The last few days of early voting are likely to be super busy, like how the post office is a nightmare in the full ten days leading up to Christmas and Tax Day. I would definitely not try to vote any later than the 25th. (Given the 25th is a Sunday and I have no idea if Texas allows you to engage in democracy on a Sunday, potentially the 24th.) 

If you receive your mail-in ballot and can get it either into a dropbox or into the mail by the 25th I think you’re okay, depending on when the ballot has to be received by. But essentially -- if you are unable to send your ballot back by the 25th, or if you are uncertain it will arrive in time to be counted, I would clear the decks and vote sometime in the window of the 23rd (a weekday, so likely to be fewer people in line) to the 25th. 

Now, all this said, I’m not an expert on voting and certainly not on voting in Texas, so if I were you I might also get in touch with some local political activists and see if they can help -- texasdemocrats.org appears to have a hotline you can call with questions, and has a vote-by-mail page with some super helpful information. 

Good luck! I would love to see Texas turn blue in my lifetime.