#like no worries please i really did just get philosophical at midnight for no reason other that high sugar intake

[a-dash-in-the-middle]

i don't know if i am horrible at communicating when i want a little attention or when i feel forgotten, or if people just in general never think it is about them because in their mind all of our needs are met and i am venting about everybody else?

[cimerran-714]

Hello! I hope you're doing well. The purpose of this short "composition" is to closely analyze some of the key H/Hr moments in the books (I haven't watched all the movies, so you won't find anything about the films here).

And I know it should be obvious, but I seriously don't mind the R/Hr or H/G ship. It's none of my business. So please refrain from taking anything out of context/misappropriate the things I say. I mean absolutely no offence to any Canon pairings.

Even if you don't ship them, I'm sure you can't deny that both Harry and Hermione have an incredibly close platonic relationship together. I've heard people narrate some of the "finest" H/Hr moments while explaining why they're fit to be soulmates. There's a high probability that you'd come across them when talking to a H/Hr shipper. However, there are a few scenes in the books (which, in retrospect, are really 'sweet') I haven't heard others talk about often.

In this essay, I'd like to share some of the best scenes in the Potter books, immediately followed by an underrated moment.

Let's dig in.

Best moment:

The hug in Philosopher's/Sorceror's Stone.

Ah, isn't it obvious? This is certainly one of the finest moments that kickstarts the strong dynamic between Harry and Hermione. I really like this scene. It's powerful on a number of levels.

Romione shippers tend to provide a parallel to exemplify the attraction between the remaining members of the Golden Trio (Hermione apologizing about Scabbers and sobbing onto Ron's shoulders). But in my eyes, there's certainly something different about her hugging Harry.

Firstly, we've got to consider the context. When Hermione embraced Ron, it happened on the second page of a different chapter. On the contrary, anything that occurs at the end of any chapter/book sticks in our minds for a long time.

I'm going off on a tangent here, just to make sure you get the point. This trope (though I'm not sure I can it that) happens a lot of times in the Harry Potter books.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley... He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter -- the boy who lived!"

This scene hits home for a lot of reasons.

Look, most of us can't help feeling sorry for Harry here. His parents are dead, which (as McGonagall claimed) is a horrible thing to have happened. We've also seen at the beginning of the book that the Dursleys hate the Potters.

It's distressing to realize that a one-year-old is about to be raised by a family who doesn't like him at all.

And the fact that the entire wizarding world is celebrating Volde... sorry, You-Know-Who's downfall, while the boy sleeps on innocently (without any knowledge of what's just happened), is even more saddening. No, he simply couldn't know what'd happened to his life, that witches and wizards all over the country are toasting him.

It's bittersweet.

Moving on:

Deciding that he'd worry about the Hogsmeade form when he woke up, Harry got back into bed and reached up to cross off another day on the chart he'd made for himself, counting down the days left until his return to Hogwarts. Then he took off his glasses and lay down; eyes open, facing his three birthday cards.

Extremely unusual though he was, at that moment Harry Potter felt just like everyone else -- glad, for the first time in his life, that it was his birthday.

This is, yet again, another 'Aww' moment at the end of a chapter. How can you not feel sorry for Harry? Most thirteen-year-olds have already enjoyed a lot of birthdays in the past. But for him, it's something new.

He's glad that it's his birthday for the first time. If I didn't know better, JKR wants us to sympathize with Harry.

And here's a final example:

Harry spun around to see Hermione pointing her wand at Ron, her expression wild: the little flock of birds was speeding like a hail of fat golden bullets toward Ron, who yelped and covered his face with his hands, but the birds attacked, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh they could reach.

"Gerremoffme!" he yelled, but with one last look of vindictive fury, Hermione wrenched open the door and disappeared through it. Harry thought he heard a sob before it slammed.

I do feel for Ron, getting attacked by a flock of birds was certainly uncalled for. But don't you get the point? The "sob" momentarily diverts our attention towards Hermione.

"Poor Ron, that must have hurt... oh, dear, Hermione's crying."

I think you know what I'm talking about. It's the same thing that happened when Hermione embraced Harry and called him a "Great wizard."

Yes, the H/Hr hug doesn't occur at the last line or anything, but it's certainly just a page before the chapter ends.

"But Harry -- what if You-Know-Who's with him?"

"Well -- I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harry, pointing at his scar. "I might get lucky again."

Hermione's lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him.

"Hermione!"

"Harry -- you're a great wizard, you know."

"I'm not as good as you," said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of him. "Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things -- friendship and bravery and -- oh Harry -- be careful!"

That's one reason why it's meaningful!

Also, note that Harry's just about to face the 'Big Bad' (at a moment when 'Danger lies ahead of them and safety lies behind'). No one's noticed them hugging, too.

And it wasn't in front of the Portrait Hall or anything, either.

It was deep beneath the ramifications of the castle. It was (probably) around midnight, too.

The situation (arguably, the fate of the wizarding world rests on Harry's shoulders now).

The dialogue ("You're a great wizard, you know" instead of "I'm so sorry about Scabbers")

The atmosphere (It was late at night).

The fact that they were just kids.

All of these make the hug so powerful.

Oh, and it was the first book in the series. 2- Underrated moment:

Harry (and yes, Ron too) saving Hermione from the troll.

What's interesting here is:

1- Harry was the one who immediately thought of Hermione after Dumbledore ordered the Prefects to take everyone to their dormitories (Not Ron).

2- Harry isn't smug about having just saved a stranger's life.

A stranger, moreover, who was considered "interfering".

On the other hand, Ron is a little git.

They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, Harry suddenly grabbed Ron's arm.

"I've just thought -- Hermione."

"What about her?"

"She doesn't know about the troll."

Ron bit his lip.

"Oh, all right," he snapped. "But Percy'd better not see us."

It's pretty obvious that, if given the choice, Ron would rather not go after the girl he'd teased in class.

Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped - it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Harry's saving both of their lives here (while endangering his own).

Remember that he's only eleven.

"We should have gotten more than ten points," Ron grumbled.

"Five, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's."

"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we did save her."

"She might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked the thing in with her," Harry reminded him.

Ron thinks they were doing Hermione a favour. Harry, however, is a tad more level-headed. And sensible.

Also, it's somewhat of a stretch, but I believe it proves the point that Harry's true nature is like his mother's (James Potter had boasted around after he saved Snape's life).

Yes, I know it's such a cliche, but Harry is pure at heart.

3-Best moment:

The "mythical" Hippogriff ride:

Now, I've personally never thought much of it. It's a good chapter, yes, but bringing animals into a Shipping war is just... meh.

It's the trust that Harry had in Hermione (when she pulled out the Time turner) that interests me.

Anyhow, it's a pretty common argument posed by H/Hr fans.

Quoting from Wikipedia:

In some traditions, the hippogriff is said to be the symbol of love, as its parents, the mare and griffin, are natural enemies. In other traditions, the hippogriff represents Christ's dual nature as both human and divine.

It occurred in the wee hours of the morning, so I suppose it does have a slightly "mythological" (I can't think of a better word) feel to it.

Again, I'm not sure I can call it my favourite part of the book, especially as Hermione wasn't enjoying riding on Buckbeak.

Underrated moment:

Having fun talking about Filch and Madam Pince.

Enjoying the fact that they could speak normally again, they made their way along the deserted lamp-lit corridors back to the common room, arguing whether or not Filch and Madam Pince were secretly in love with each other.

For Romione shippers who believe that Harry and Hermione are "boring" together, it's a rude awakening.

No, the "arguing" doesn't mean they were actually in a disagreement. It's clear that both of them were having fun.

Enjoying their time, in fact.

It's one of the few 'Harmony' scenes in Half-blood Prince.

I do not believe that either of them was consciously aware of their feelings towards each other, either.

And if it's just a coincidence that they were enjoying talking about being in love, it's certainly a bizarre one.

4-Best moment:

Visiting Godric's Hollow together

"'The last enemy that shall be defeated is death'..." A horrible thought came to him, and with a kind of panic. "Isn't that a Death Eater idea? Why is that there?"

"It doesn't mean defeating death in the way the Death Eaters mean it, Harry," said Hermione, her voice gentle. "It means... you know... living beyond death. Living after death."

But they were not living, thought Harry. They were gone. The empty words could not disguise the fact that his parents' moldering remains lay beneath snow and stone, indifferent, unknowing. And tears came before he could stop them, boiling hot then instantly freezing on his face, and what was the point in wiping them off or pretending? He let them fall, his lips pressed hard together, looking down at the thick snow hiding from his eyes the place where the last of Lily and James lay, bones now, surely, or dust, not knowing or caring that their living son stood so near, his heart still beating, alive because of their sacrifice and close to wishing, at this moment, that he was sleeping under the snow with them.

Hermione had taken his hand again and was gripping it tightly. He could not look at her, but returned the pressure, now taking deep, sharp gulps of the night air, trying to steady himself, trying to regain control. He should have brought something o give them, and he had not thought of it, and every plant in the graveyard was leafless and frozen. But Hermione raised her wand, moved it in a circle through the air, and a wreath of Christmas roses blossomed before them. Harry caught it and laid it on his parents' grave.

As soon as he stood up he wanted to leave: He did not think he could stand another moment there. He put his arm around Hermione's shoulders, and she put hers around his waist, and they turned in silence and walked away through the snow, past Dumbledore's mother and sister, back toward the dark church and the out-of-sight kissing gate.

If it was intended to be a totally platonic visit, why a pose that's very romantic? Also, as someone else had mentioned in their blog, Harry rarely (if never) initiates physical contact with anyone.

There's also a kissing gate present in the Church.

It seems as if JKR has got a flair for writing co-incidences that further cement the H/Hr relationship.

Underrated moment:

Ernie Macmillion's change of heart:

This is simply beautiful, and even more so as Macmillion was aware that Harry can speak Parseltongue (an ability commonly associated with Dark Wizards).

What happens when students are mysteriously turning into stone, and you figure out that one of them was "egging on" a snake during a duelling club? A boy, moreover, who dislikes the Muggles he lives with? Someone who managed to defeat Lord Voldemort himself?

Hmm...

The logical conclusion would be that Harry's got a hand in it. Ernie believed that Harry Potter was the one Petrifying everyone, even a few weeks/months after the attacks stopped.

What takes the Hufflepuff to bring him to his senses?

The fact that Harry would never harm his Muggle-born friend.

I know it's a little thing, but it shows that the whole school (indeed, Ernie belonged to a different House) was aware of how close Harry and Hermione were together.

Note that he'd apologized immediately after a double-attack.

"Harry, harm Hermione Granger? Impossible!"

Macmillian was the one being paranoid, and told tales about Harry to Hannah Abbot.

And yet a single thing changed his mind completely.

To wind up, I'mma give you another part from the first book:

It was as though an iron fist had clenched suddenly around Harry's heart. Over the rustling of the trees, he seemed to hear once more what Hagrid had told him on the night they had met: "Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die." "Do you mean," Harry croaked, "that was Vol-" "Harry! Harry, are you all right?" Hermione was running toward them down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind her.

What's noteworthy is that Hermione apparently doesn't care about staying close to Hagrid and protecting herself. She's so worried about what's happened to Harry that she's rushing along in front of Hagrid.

Throughout the books, you can see Harry being protective of Hermione.

The feeling's mutual ;)

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Forged Through Fire (4/13)

Summary: Amestris. Once democratic, now a military dictatorship. Prohibition is strict; personal freedoms curtailed. All alchemists must be state-licensed or face imprisonment. Foreigners are met with suspicion. It’s a grim place and a grim time, but there are some people able to bring a little light to the world. Behind an innocent-looking bookshop, speakeasy proprietor Chris Mustang has formed an unlikely alliance with unlicensed alchemist Van Hohenheim to provide alcohol to those who want it and medical care to those who need it. When Riza’s newly complete tattoo becomes infected, Roy brings her into this underworld, little knowing the way it will change their lives in the future – uncovering the secrets of the mythical Philosopher’s Stone and the schemes of a Fuhrer hell-bent on achieving immortality, all whilst navigating what they mean to each other.

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Rated: T

[One] [Two] [Three] [AO3]

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Content warning for this chapter: Discussion of parent-on-child domestic abuse and parental neglect.

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Forged Through Fire

Four

Roy didn’t really know what to expect when he knocked on the Hawkeye residence’s door the next day – well, later in the same day, since he hadn’t left until after midnight. Riza looked tired and withdrawn when she answered, but she gave a weak smile when she saw him.

“Hey Roy. Come in.”

He stepped inside, hanging up his coat on the hook that had always been his when he had been coming over to learn under Berthold.

“How are you today?”

“I’m ok. Still sore, and the burned skin pulls weirdly sometimes, it’s going to take some time to get used to it. But the pain’s getting better.”

“That’s good.” It wasn’t exactly what he’d asked, and he wondered if Riza was dodging the subject intentionally. “How are you feeling today?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to vocalise it. I’m not used to this.”

“What aren’t you used to?”

He followed her into the kitchen, getting cups out of the cupboard as she put the kettle on.

“This.” She gave a long sigh. “I’m not used to having people care about me and care how I’m feeling. The last person who ever cared about my feelings was my mom. And now there’s you, and Trisha, and Hohenheim, and your aunt, and you all care, and you all know about this.” She gestured to her back. “And I trust you with it, don’t get me wrong. But it’s overwhelming. I don’t know how to be vulnerable, Roy. I don’t know how to deal with people caring about me.”

“That’s ok.” Roy chanced to reach across and touch her hand where it was resting on the counter as she waited for the kettle to come to the boil. “We’ll still be here whilst you’re figuring it out.”

No more was said as the kettle boiled and tea was made, and they sat down at the kitchen table.

Presently, Riza looked through the kitchen door to the door of her father’s study opposite.

“I should go in and sort everything out. I haven’t been in there since he died. I don’t have the energy. I can’t think of anything that I want to do less than go through all his research. Part of me says I shouldn’t bother. He loved alchemy more than he ever loved me and I don’t see why I should have to have anything to do with it now. But then there’s the other part of me that says I should continue being a dutiful daughter and go through all his stuff. It caused me so much pain and it’s all still there and I have to do something with it.”

“I don’t see any reason why you should,” Roy said “Just destroy it all. Hell, just torch the entire room, you don’t even need to take anything out of it.”

Riza raised an eyebrow. “Having a burned out husk of a room in the middle of the house might make it hard to sell. Also the risk of it bringing the entire house down is just a bit too great. Not that I don’t trust you to have excellent control over your fire, but this is a very old and flammable building. Makes me wonder how it never burned down before, actually.”

“OK. Take everything out of it and dump it in the garden and have a bonfire, then. You don’t owe him anything, Riza. I think you need the catharsis. You can’t get rid of the marks he left on you, but you can get rid of all of the other traces of his legacy. I think it would be fitting for it all to go up in smoke.”

Riza nodded. “I just want it gone,” she said quietly. “The tattoo will never be gone. But everything else can be gone. Just… erase him from the world and never have to deal with him again. Never have him cause me any pain again.”

She finished her tea and stood up suddenly, the scrape of the chair legs against the kitchen floor jerking Roy into action too.

“Let’s do it.”

She threw the study door open, as if she was trying not to second-guess herself, and Roy looked around. It looked exactly the same as it had done when he had last been in there a couple of years prior – books and papers everywhere, no rhyme or reason to anything, no order that made sense to anyone except Berthold.

“I hate this room so much,” Riza said. Her tone was almost conversational, but Roy could see the anger in her eyes, now bright and fiery instead of the haunted look she’d been wearing for the past couple of days.

It took them a while to get everything out of the study into the garden and pile it up, but it was worth it to see the look of satisfaction in Riza’s face as she stood in the empty room. They’d even ripped down the curtains and pulled out the built-in bookshelves. If they were going to do it, then they would do it properly. Everything had to go. The sun was beginning to go down by the time they were finished, and Roy looked over at Riza.

“Are you ready?”

She nodded.

“Light it up.”

Roy shook his head and handed her a lighter; always paid to have one handy in case the spark cloth got wet. “No. This is your moment; you need to do this.”

Riza took the lighter and flicked it, watching the tiny flame stuttering in the breeze for a while before she threw it onto the pile of papers and furniture. It took a few moments for it to catch properly, but soon the blaze was burning high, Berthold Hawkeye’s legacy going up in smoke in the most poetic end for his research there could be.

For a long time, they just watched the blaze together in silence, and Roy looked sideways at Riza, the shadows from the bright flame dancing in front of his eyes. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, like she was trying to physically hold herself together, and he startled when she suddenly crumpled down onto her knees.

He crouched beside her.

“Riza?”

Riza howled, a heartrending scream of pain, anger, frustration and grief all letting rip. Roy couldn’t say he was surprised, nor could he say she didn’t need it after everything. Tears were streaming down her face, and Roy realised he hadn’t seen her cry like this at all since her father’s death. Not at the funeral and not even the previous day when she’d been in so much pain. She had wept, but nothing like this raw outpouring of emotion. 

Riza had always been stoic, more stoic than Roy thought he could ever hope to be, and even though it was completely understandable, and he had been the one to say that she could not keep her stoicism forever, it was alarming to see her in so much distress. He hovered next to her, hand an inch from her shoulder, wanting to give a comforting touch but not sure whether or not it would be welcome.

In the end he chanced it, rubbing her arm gently. Riza gave no indication that she could even feel him, continuing to sob, and Roy settled down on the damp grass beside her.

Eventually, she cried herself out, falling silent again, the roaring flame from the bonfire still going strong beside them, the light sparkling on Riza’s wet cheeks as she kept staring at it.

“Can I get you anything?” Roy asked.

Riza shook her head.

“No. Just don’t leave, please.”

Roy would quite happily have stayed there for as long as she wanted, until the fire burned down to nothing. He shifted, putting an arm around Riza’s shoulders as she flopped against him, exhausted by the much needed emotional release.

After a few more minutes of silence, Roy ventured to speak again.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been through a washing machine. I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel so I’m feeling it all at once.”

“That’s ok. Just let it all out.”

Riza didn’t respond, and Roy could see that she was crying again; silent and sorrowful.

“You’ll be ok. I promise.” He couldn’t hope to understand what she was feeling, and he was grateful that he had never been in the position where he would be able to claim he knew what she was going through, but he could understand that she was undergoing a massive upheaval, and all he could hope to do was help her through the other side.

He watched the smoke rising from the fire, sending the ashes of her childhood flying off into the night sky, away into the ether where they could never harm her again.

They stayed out in the garden until the fire began to die back - Roy would admit if asked that he had helped its intensity along at various points to keep it steady and bright - and by the time they went back inside, stiff and cold from sitting on the grass for so long, but neither of them complaining at it, Riza seemed to have found a modicum of peace again.

X

Of all the things that Riza thought she was going to have to worry about when she started working the front for the speakeasy, having someone come into the bookshop who actually wanted to use it as a bookshop wasn’t one of them. It was such an obscure and out of the way little place, hardly anyone ever came in looking for books, and most people who did come in saw the state of the shelves and everything packed in haphazard and turned straight back around again.

The woman who had just walked in and started browsing, however, had determination if nothing else. She’d been going through the shelves for a good fifteen minutes before she finally poked her head around the end of one of the stacks and looked at Riza with her brow furrowed.

“Do you have a history section?”

“Honestly? I have no idea. I’ve only been here three months. I think everything’s organised by what colour the cover is rather than anything else.”

The woman laughed. “Oh well. I’ll just keep looking. I don’t have anywhere else to be, after all.”

It was the middle of the afternoon and whilst the bar was open, Riza wasn’t expecting any patrons to come through the door any time soon, so there was no need to get the woman out of the shop lest she find out about the rather more illegal practices going on downstairs.

“I can help you look if you want.” She got up and came out from behind the counter. “Are you looking for something specific?”

“Not really, more just anything that I can get my hands on about local history. I mean, you know what it’s like trying to find out anything about the time before the current regime started up. I’ve got as much access to the governmental archives as they allow, which is…” The woman tailed off, and Riza knew exactly why. Even in a place as out of the way as the bookshop, there were eyes and ears everywhere.

“You get through the front door and they give you what they want you to see?” Riza suggested. She wasn’t sure how to let the woman know that the space here was safe, and at the same time there was always the risk that she herself was here for nefarious purposes, trying to scent out what was going on behind the scenes.

The woman nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”

They continued to work through the shelves for a while but going book by book was going to take them till next Tuesday, and their conversation turned to other things – the weather, the latest news, other neutral small talk topics. Names were exchanged, and finally Riza brought the conversation back around to their current mission; subtly trying to get more information to see how much of a threat this Rebecca Catalina might be.

“So, how come you have access to the governmental archives?”

“I’m a journalist with the Central Herald.” Rebecca sighed. “At least, I attempt to be a journalist.”

“Attempt?” Riza was intrigued now; the Central Herald was known for getting on the wrong side of the government just enough to annoy them without being enough to get itself closed down. There was no free press in Amestris and there hadn’t been for a long time, but the Herald was the closest they got to it. She was steering towards thinking that Rebecca probably wasn’t a secret police informant. Either that or she was in deep undercover.

“All the newspapers have state-sponsored overseers. I think they’d all much rather that I stuck to just reporting on weddings and funerals and what colour hat Lady Bradley’s wearing on any given day, but we do our best.”

Riza had to smile at that.

“So, what’s the latest scoop?”

“Nothing concrete yet. I’ve just got a feeling. There’s some dilapidated old buildings on the far side of town, by the Narrows. They’ve been closed off as condemned for years, but they’ve never been knocked down, and there are always cars with government plates hanging around in the vicinity.”

“Well, in this country I wouldn’t put anything past anybody.”

They continued searching for a while, pulling up a few promising old books, until the bell above the shop door jangled again and Riza immediately went into secret keeper mode, going to see who had entered her domain. The bookshop was a strange liminal space in that sense, more of a portal to another world than a place in its own right.

It was only Roy.

“Hi. I just thought I’d come by to see how you were doing.”

“I’m ok.” She nodded discreetly in Rebecca’s direction to indicate that they weren’t alone and couldn’t discuss bar business. “How are you?”

“Fine. Hughes is driving me round the bend but that’s not exactly new…” He trailed off, and Riza glanced to the side to see that Rebecca was doing a very poor job of pretending that she wasn’t watching them, surreptitiously sneaking peeks over the top of the book she absolutely wasn’t reading. Looking back at Roy, she saw that he’d gone rather pink around the edges, and the sight of him so flustered made her smile.

“Well, I, erm, I’ll see you later.”

He left the shop as suddenly as he’d entered it, and Rebecca gave a giggle from behind her book.

“Boyfriend?” she asked.

“No, no. He’s just an old friend.”

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “Are you absolutely sure about that?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” She really didn’t want to think about it.

Rebecca seemed to notice her consternation and immediately changed the subject. The two of them continued to talk about books for a while, and although Riza was as guarded as she ever was around strangers, there was something about Rebecca that was easy to get along with. Riza found herself wondering what the catch was. Her upbringing had made her cynical in a way, always wondering what it was that people wanted from her. After spending so long with Roy as the only person she could really consider to be a friend, finding new friendly people was somewhat daunting.

For a moment, Riza’s anger against her father flared again, knowing that he was at the root of her troubles and lamenting the ordinary childhood and teenage years that she’d never got to have. She tried to push it down and focus on what Rebecca was saying.

“Well, I have to go now, but I’d like to come back and take a look at the shelves I didn’t get to today.”

“Sure. We’re always open.” That was pretty much true. Operating as the front for the speakeasy meant that they did keep much longer hours than most ordinary second-hand bookshops would.

“Great! Well, it was nice to meet you Riza. I’ll see you soon.”

Riza found herself looking forward to it in spite of herself.

Roy came back into the shop a few minutes after Rebecca left, and Riza had to laugh.

“Were you literally just hiding around the corner until she went away?”

“No! Well. Maybe.”

Riza snorted. “There’s no need, I’m fairly sure she’s harmless. She’s a journalist for the Herald.”

“Journalists are in no way harmless, Riza.”

“You know what I mean. Harmless to you physically. She’s not going to bite you, and from our conversation, I’m sure she’s safe for this place as well.”

“The sixth sense wasn’t tingling then?”

“You know me, Roy. I’m naturally suspicious of everyone. But I think Rebecca could be a friend to us.”

“That’s good.” Roy looked at her. “Do you think she could be a friend to you?”

Riza didn’t reply straight away, mulling everything over in her mind. The idea of having friends who weren’t linked to the speakeasy or didn’t come through Roy was a nice one, despite the voice in the back of her mind that kept telling her that she didn’t deserve nice things like that.

“I… I think so. I don’t know. I would like that.”

“Go for it and see where it takes you. It’ll be good for you to get out of here once in a while and have some friends who aren’t here for the alcohol.”

“I know. I was thinking the same thing. The trouble is that I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“It’s still early days yet. Maybe there isn’t another shoe. We live in a world of mistrust and subterfuge and paranoia, but there are still decent people out there.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Riza leaned back in her chair. “Optimism hasn’t always been the best colour on me. It feels weird.”

“I agree that sometimes optimism can be dangerous in the circumstances we’re in. But it can be exhausting to be cynical all the time, and you deserve some normality in your life.”

“Hmm.” Riza continued to ponder his words for a while, until Roy just left her alone with her thoughts, giving her an understanding pat on the shoulder as he went past her into the bar.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to start having friends and getting some semblance of normality into her life after all.

[atmilliways]

On the 6th day of Dethmas this writer gives to thee…

Dec 18 - Crossover with your favorite holiday movie

An AU in which Dethklok is perhaps a little less of a ubiquitous presence in the music industry, but still big enough to have Dethklok Inc. and Dethklok Australia. Seth still runs the latter with his wife Amber and their son.

When Abigail takes a vacation to the Land Down Under, she ends up dating the most amazing woman she’s ever met and staying longer than expected. Amber invites her to come back to the states with her to her husband’s parents’ house for Christmas, so they can spend the holidays together. The only catch? It turns out that Seth hasn’t told his parents about the open marriage like Amber thought he had, so Abigail has to play the “friend” around Amber’s in-laws.

Chapter 1 of ?

~

Right now, my favorite movie is Happiest Season (2020) and the main character in that is named Abby, so this happened. Instead of the girlfriend needing to come out to her conservative parents, Seth needs to come out to his parents about being in an open marriage and tell them that Amber has a girlfriend.

I highly recommend this movie (if you do not have any squicks about The Fear that comes before coming out, but to be fair the movie handles it very well)! Directed by Clea DuVall, contains Kristen Stewart and Daniel Levy. 

~

Happiest Seasonklok

It had been a whirlwind year for Abigail, starting with a New Year’s party she’d attended on a whim and, at the stroke of midnight, kissing the prettiest girl at the party and exchanged Instagram usernames to stay in touch. Within hours her feed had been flooded with selfies of the two of them, as well as a DM with a phone number and the message, Call me. xoxo Amber ;) From then on, they’d been practically inseparable. 

Right away, Amber had been very upfront about having a husband and a kid. Abigail had hesitated over that one, but the kid wasn’t too bad and the husband. . . . Well, meeting him pretty much took care of that. Seth was the kind of guy who thought very highly of himself despite having little reason to do so; he absolutely adored Amber, and somehow managed to be completely unaware that she was in charge. As soon as he started gunning for a threesome Amber told him to cut it out, and he did. Never brought it up again, like the idea had just been highlighted and deleted. It was hard to be bothered about a guy like that. 

Amber had taken her everywhere. What started as a one month vacation in Australia turned into three. Abigail’s new partner had Connections, and before she knew what was happening she had a work visa, a short term lease apartment, and producing jobs lined up left and right. 

Everything had been wonderful, and while sunbathing in the Australian December rays and talking idly about the difference in seasons and the complete lack of snow, Amber had looked over with a grin, taken her hand, and asked her to come with them back to the States with her and her family to Seth’s parents for Christmas. And Abigail had said yes. 

She regretted that now. Because halfway through the flight to Wisconsin on a generously appointed private jet, Seth had turned to Amber and said, “Hey, babe? You remember how I visited my parents for my mom’s birthday back in June and told them about our whole, y’know, open marriage deal?”

Amber turned slowly from playing with the baby and said, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, well, see, I kiiiiiinda didn’t tell them.” 

Immediately Amber looked over at Abigail and mouthed, Crap, I’m sorry. 

“‘Cause see, my dad’s runnin’ fer mayor of Tomahawk and there’s all this political bullshit about it, you know how it is. Anyway, it just didn’t seem like a good time, y’know? And there’s this big potential backer coming to the family Christmas party, so it didn’t really seem like the good time to bring that up  before we get there . . . but I swear, babe, I’ll tell them as soon as Christmas is over.”

Amber rolled her eyes. “God, fine.” 

A few minutes later Seth excused himself to use the bathroom—though it was pretty clear once he gestured for his bodyguard to follow him that he was mostly just using it as a convenient place to do drugs. Melmord followed with a look of friendly yet philosophical boredom, patting his pockets in search of whatever they were skulking off to snort, swallow, or smoke. 

Abigail was at Amber’s elbow in a second. “Fine? Are you kidding me?”

“Look,” Amber sighed, “Molly and Calvert are fine. I married their golden boy who they think can do no wrong.” Seeing Abigail gearing up to comment on that, she shook her head. “Don’t ask me why they think that. Honestly their other son, Pickles, is way more successful and definitely the reason Seth got the Dethklok Australia job, but there’s this whole truckload of family history there, it’s a big thing. I don’t like that Seth hasn’t told them yet either, but I’d really rather not put up with bitchy in-laws all Christmas . . . so at this point, it’s better for everyone and just wait.”

“What makes you think Seth is going to tell them after Christmas?” Abigail demanded. 

Amber laughed. “Honey please. I’ll make sure he does it, don’t worry about that. But are you going to be okay with this for just a few days?”

Crossing her arms with a huff, Abigail kissed her on the cheek as an answer and sank into an adjacent seat. “I don’t like that he waited until we’re practically there to tell us.”

The baby reached up from the playmat spread out on the floor and patted her knee. “Abi biccy!”

Amber ruffled her child’s tuft of dark red hair. “That’s right, Abi needs a cheer-up biscuit.”

“Choccy,” the baby insisted, and flashed a beatific smile that featured exactly one tooth.

“Ooh, a chocolate biscuit.” Amber winked at her girlfriend. “Aren’t you the favorite today.”

It wasn’t long before the plane began its descent into a town so small that Abigail was surprised they even had a runway. (She wouldn’t have been surprised if Seth had paid for it and then claimed it as a business expense, though.) A limo drove them through snowy fields with the occasional distant shape of houses. Eventually the house-to-snowy-landscape ratio increased until they were in something vaguely resembling suburbs. When they pulled to a stop in front of one house in particular, Seth bounced out of the car with a shout of, “Hey, Mom and Dad, it’s me, Seth! We’re here!”

Abigail hung back, watching Amber go ahead with the baby in one hip while she stood by the trunk of the limo, waiting for Melmord to uncover her single bag while he pulled suitcase after suitcase out and stacked it on a folding trolley. 

“Can you fill me in on what to expect here?” she asked while she waited. She didn’t know Melmord particularly well, beyond the fact that that he sounded like a pack a day sort of guy, but she didn’t get the vibe from him that he would bother to either lie or put any particular spin on things. 

Melmord shrugged. “Seth can do no wrong, his bro Pickles can do no right, and I’m pretty sure Seth’s parents think your an orphan he’s helping out for charity.”

“Uh. . . . Why?”

Melmord shrugged. “Because that’s what he told them. Don’t,” he added quickly, catching the look on her face, “say you could just kill him for it. I’m contractually obligated to physically attack the source of any threats. Just roll with it, if you try to correct them they’ll just say shit like, ‘Oh, you’re so brave.’” He held out her bag. “Order’s up, in you go.”

Amber took it with a sigh, already regretting the decision to tag along. 

It was going to be a long, long weekend.

[lonelypond]

Casual Lunacy, Chapter 5

Love Live, nicomaki main pairing, 5/?, 2.5K

Maki has an existential crisis and things take a turn for the weird for everyone's favorite future star of stage and screen. Plus, A-Rise makes their official entrance.

THE WEREWOLF PHILOSOPHICAL

Nico. Nico wanted answers. Maki wanted to just curl up and not think...but she’d stopped at the downtown book store 5 minutes before closing and ignoring the glares of the clerk, made him find her a Neruda book. So now, here she was, home, the memory of Nico pointing at her, ruby eyes twinkling, lips pursing around “Don’t I know it” looping in her head. The poem had not really been much help. Seemed to be directed at an attractive woman…”Ode To A Naked Beauty”, Maki blushed at the title and then growled at the thought of CompLit Turkish Coffee Guy thinking of her...or Nico that way. Did that mean Nico...Maki tossed the Neruda on the table and wandered over to the stereo, instrumental, classical, Beethoven...Für Elise. No words. Words were always confusing. It was easier to be...Princess...around Nico...Maki didn’t feel as shy...was she really now thinking of her wolf form with another name? That would be confusing. And a disaster of a habit to get into. But when Nico said Princess, Maki felt herself warming at the affection she remembered in Nico’s voice...and the concern. Nico had been so mad that Maki might be the one letting Princess wander...no, this was a wrong road, a bad bad road to go down. Maki was Maki, even with a tail too ready to wag when Nico called to her. There was no Princess.

But then who would Nico call pretty?

Maki threw herself on the couch and grabbed the Neruda again. There had been a poem…"that our mouths are not filled with all these dubious names.” Dubious. Too...ha...Maki laughed at herself..two many names. “When I go to sleep each night what am I called, not called? And when I wake up, who am I” More muddling thoughts. Maki had never really questioned anything. Sometimes, she had wolf senses and people made a little more sense, sometimes she didn’t and everything was a little less...elemental but she could play the piano. No one had ever made her prefer one form or the other. Did Nico prefer one form or the other? Nico was confusing. Yet felt right. But Nico was mad at Maki. And filling every one of her senses whenever Maki moved around the campus, although here, a few miles away, safe in the sanctuary of her parent’s house, Maki couldn’t sense Nico. And yet, still, the small, sparkling dynamo stole center stage in every thought. Maki groaned and turned a random page, pulling the throw over her legs. Maybe this next poem wouldn’t shiver with hints of ruby and sable.

Dr. and Dr. Nishikino came home from the gala charity event well after midnight to find their only child snoring on the couch in the media room, a paperback open across her chest, her legs tangled and twitching in a throw as she dreamed.

Her mother carefully picked the book up and read the title. “Selected Poems of Pablo Neruda.”

“Poetry? Maki?” The taller Dr. Nishikino chuckled in his wife’s direction. “Not schoolwork, I guess.”

Dr. Nishikino handed the book to her husband and watched as he read the open page. “I know Maki’s working on a paper for Cognitive Psychology and and her freshman seminar is something about sports and music so I don’t think so.”

Maki whimpered in her sleep and her mother touched her shoulder, attempting to calm her. This close to the full moon, Maki tended to sleep transform when stressed. It was part of the reason she’d opted out of university housing.

“Maki, wake up. We’re home.” Her mother announced softly, the combination of curious and worried too much of a prickle to ignore.

Maki’s eyes opened, slowly, “Mama? Papa?”

“You were having a nightmare, weren’t you?” Her father prodded.

Maki sat up, nodding, untangling fabric from her legs. Her mother handed her the book back, “I didn’t know you liked poetry?”

Maki snatched the book back, shoving it into the kangaroo pocket of the hoodie she wore around the house, “Someone quoted him so I was curious.”

“What did you think?” Her father asked, sharing a glance with his wife.

Maki shrugged, a slight blush on her cheeks. “It’s...um...very descriptive.”

Her mother managed to choke back a laugh while her father folded up the throw, “If you like Neruda, I’ve got some Federico Garcia Lorca on my shelves.” He paused, “and “The Ink Dark Moon,” full of Izumi Shikibu poetry.”

“That’s a good one.” Maki’s mother smiled at a memory, leaning into her husband’s side, both watching their daughter nod earnestly, with a focused, familiar look that meant she was memorizing names and titles. “Good night, Maki. Get some sleep. We’ll see you at breakfast, right?”

Maki agreed, “Good night.”

MEETINGS

Once a week, Nico and Umi had a roommate meeting. Nico would prepare breakfast, Umi would have prepared a list of discussion topics, shared with Nico at least two days in advance so Nico could amend the agenda, if necessary.

Not much to talk about this week. Umi would be spending the weekend with Honoka and Kotori, the trio were throwing a Lunar New Year party. Kotori had been showing Nico pics of her decorations for weeks. Umi beamed proudly when Nico mentioned how impressed she was by Kotori’s designs. With the weekend plan discussion checked off the list, the discussion turned to current events.

Umi finished the last of her omelet. “Delicious as always, Nico. Thank you very much.” She dropped her napkin across her plate. “How are rehearsals going?”

Nico tapped her fork on her plate, “Nico is excellent, of course, but Nico’s co star is a lot of work. Nico is worried that she’s going to drag the show down.” Nico poured herself more tea; Umi shook her head, refusing. “And drag down Nico’s future plans too.”

“Kashima, right?” Umi asked. Nico nodded.

“Kotori says she fits the role.”

Nico raspberried, “”Kotori’s swooning with all the rest of them. Sure, Kashima’s handsome, maybe charming, but....”And Nico stared straight at Umi, dragging out the pause for extreme dramatic effect, “She can’t sing. Fangs is a musical. And I have to do a duet with her.”

Nico’s eyes sparked with indignation. She grabbed the plates from the table and started to rinse them. Umi moved to take over as she usually did when Nico cooked but Nico refused the help. “Cleaning is better than fuming. Leave me some leftovers tonight.”

Umi understood. Performing an activity was always preferable to stewing in emotions. She decided a helpful gesture would be to change the topic.

“How’s the redhead?”

Nico stopped and turned, leaning back against the sink, “Dog or person? Nico hasn’t seen either for a couple of days.”

“Dog?” Umi quickly reviewed what she remembered of the lease. Was there a pet policy? Was Nico planning to adopt a dog? If they had a dog, Honoka might visit more often. The orange haired affection blanket often felt homesick for her family’s dog, never for the Japanese specialities of her family bakery which Umi had always enjoyed.

“That’s right, Nico told Nozomi not Umi. There’s a dog that’s been finding me on campus.”

“A stray?” Umi sounded concerned and a little frightened.

“No.” Nico’s answer was instant, but the more she considered, the more convincing it was, “She's beautiful and too well groomed for that. Plus there’s these two nice but odd girls who seem to know her.” Nico dried her hands off in her apron, “I call her Princess. She seems to like it.” Nico’s phone popped, "I’m going to be late for class. Can you please finish the dishes, Umi? I'll pick up food later.”

“Of course,” And Umi took Nico’s place at the sink, wondering why her roommate hadn’t said anything about the human redhead.

Chemistry class. Hanayo, her glasses pushed down her nose, ignoring both the professor and her laptop, was instead frowning at Maki, doing her best to guilt the redhead into apologizing to Rin. And it was working. Maki really hated seeing either of her friends upset. Plus, it wasn’t really Rin’s fault she was so friendly and outgoing.

Maki messaged Hanayo: “Talk after class.”

Hanayo jumped when her laptop barked at her. The professor stopped to stare, along with the rest of the class.

“Sorry.” Hanayo mumbled, then nodded at Maki when she read her screen. As her fingers moved over the keyboard, Maki knew she was typing a message to Rin -- and muting her notifications. Track practice hadn’t started in earnest for Rin yet so her schedule was still mostly flexible. Maki fully expected an excited ginger to be waiting for them when class finished. Maki felt more cheerful than she had in a couple of days. Rin’s relentless optimism was the mood boost she needed.

Nozomi was settled in the back of the theatre, watching the stage crew assemble on stage. Nico was a little late today, unusual. Perhaps delayed by a redhead. Nozomi did wonder about that possibility, but before she could pull out her cards to get a reading on Nico, Eli had slid into the seat next to her.

“Good morning, Nozomi. How are you?” Eli smiled as she bumped slightly into Nozomi’s arm.

“Eli-chi!” Nozomi leaned into Eli's arm, "Good morning!"

“I never asked you how you were involved in this?” Eli sounded serious. And apologetic. Like it had been a massive oversight on her part. Nozomi giggled.

“I’m going to help make your scenes as creepy as possible.” Nozomi grinned.

Eli's blue eyes were curious, though she waited patiently for Nozomi to continue.

“I’m helping the lighting designer with video effects; I managed to swing some class credit.”

“What’s your major?”

“Art theory and practice, but I’m more camera and performance oriented than most of the students so I end up collaborating with theatre projects a lot.” Nozomi stretched, letting a yawn out; Eli watched her movement but resisted joining the yawn.

Eli raised an eyebrow, “Interesting. So what do you have planned?”

“That would ruin the surprise.” Nozomi ruffled Eli’s hair as her arms dropped from their stretch, “Don’t you like surprises?”

“Not really.” Eli admitted, fixing her ponytail.

“Nozomi.” Nozomi and Eli looked up to see a tall woman with long dark hair, an iPad and a very serious look in the aisle.

“Oh, hey Erena! Do you need me?” Nozomi asked brightly.

Erena nodded, “Suzu’s here and we need to talk about the exterior castle effects.”

“Great,” Nozomi stood, eager to get to work, “Talk to you later, Eli-chi. Have to make you look good on stage.” Nozomi winked.

Eli frowned as Nozomi followed Erena to the stage, still considering surprises.

Nico spotted Nozomi talking to two women on the edge of the stage. Today, she was working on one of the London diary writing scenes so she had the stage to herself and images were going to be projected behind her. Nozomi had explained what she had planned and Nico was anxious to work with the tech as soon as possible. She wanted to make sure her performance was still the emotional center of the scene. The cute green eyed stage tech she noticed the first day wandered toward her and Nico broke out a fairly dazzling smile, about 5.5 on the scale. New friends were always good, as she’d told Nozomi, especially if they were cute.

“Nico, right?” The woman extended her hand, “Tsubasa Kira. I’m in charge of the scrim and fabric effects. We’ll be working together on the Trance sequence.”

Nico bumped the smile up 2 notches, “That’s one of Nico’s favorite scenes. I can’t wait to hear what you’ve got planned, Tsubasa.”

“Well, if you’ll come backstage with me, I can show you the fabric we’ll be working with. Professor Asuka said you had a few minutes.” Tsubasa dropped a hand to Nico’s waist to show the way. Nico danced a little ahead of her grasp after the first step.

Nozomi was watching them, while still managing to be involved in whatever was being planned, which didn’t surprise Nico. Nozomi had a third eye and a hidden ear, both for gossip. There were some diaphanous white sheets tacked to the back wall of the theatre. Nico headed straight for them and as she passed between the flats the stage crew was painting, the lights blinked and there was an electronic buzz….Nico heard Nozomi grunt and looked back to see her friend wince in pain, and then Nico felt something wiry against her cheek, scraping. She turned back to see the white sheets billowing forward, reaching out like arms, as the lights started blinking again, then with a crash, everything went dark and there was a scream.

“Eli” Nozomi shouted. Nico pulled the fabric off her face, trying to remain calm as she confronted Tsubasa, “Is this supposed to attack Nico?”

Tsubasa had pulled out a flashlight and her eyes were wide as Nico threw the fabric on the floor, away from them both, watching it flutter like a wounded moth. It wouldn’t stop moving. Nico knew she was equally torn between stomping on it and joining the screamer while fleeing.

“Nico?!?!” Tsubasa’s voice shook a little. That decided Nico. She grabbed the other girl and headed for the EXIT light. Outside. Afternoon. Freezing. But free of this weirdness.

Maki walked with Hanayo out of class, Rin would be waiting for them at the dorm, she’d been napping and didn’t want to go out in the cold. Maki found it invigorating, but Rin was definitely more into cozy than cold weather. Maki tood tall, facing the Lakefill, arms stretched out to the sides, and inhaled. Clear, crisp cold, musk, peach, vanilla, magic, feAR, BLOOD...with a snarl, Maki transformed faster than Hanayo could track, howled and bolted into the center of campus. Hanayo knelt to pick up her clothes and wondered if sending Rin after their friend would complicate things for Maki.

Nico was searching for Nozomi, who seemed to have stayed inside the theatre. Tsubasa was sticking close beside her. Nico heard a howl...next thing, Nico thought, an actual vampire surrounded by bats would show up in a cloud of mist. Nico wondered if all shows about spooky themes ended up being weird.

“You’re bleeding, Nico.” Tsubasa sounded worried, pulling Nico to a stop and raising a hand to the cheek where Nico had been scratched. Nico had felt something but hadn’t thought that it might be blood. Just as Tsubasa was about to touch her, a red and cream blur pushed the other woman back, snarling dangerously. Princess. Princess with a very different vibe. Nico put her hand to her cheek. Was it the blood?

“Hey, calm down.” Tsubasa skipped back, hands out in front of her. “Nico? Some help?”

“Princess…” Nico put a hand between Princess’s shoulders, but the dog kept snarling and started to crouch for a leap. Nico quickly moved between Princess and Tsubasa, kneeling. “Just get out of here, Tsubasa. I’ll handle this.” Princess surged around Nico, about to chase Tsubasa away and Nico fell into the snow, exasperated by everything and overwhelmed. She could feel tears starting, which was pathetic and undignified for a future star of stage and screen. Just a minute and she would recover. Nico laid back on the ground, cold intruding everywhere. Suddenly she felt warmth at her cheek, Princess, a worried Princess, a Princess snuffling Nico's face with concern, not a vicious, strange, snapping Princess. Nico relaxed, linked her arms around the dog and pulled herself up, whispering into silky fur. “It’s ok, Princess. Nico is fine. Just cold and confused and tired." Nico leaned into Princess’s sturdy warmth and let herself cry. Just for a minute.

A/N Howdy. Busy week, complete with a bout of under the weather...this chapter was tough to write, it felt like a wall the story had to get over before it could start the official obstacle course.Hope this finds you well. Enjoy and drop a howdy, if you feel inclined.

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

Great Minds Think Alike (Riverdale - Jughead x OC) Part 7

Pairing : Jughead x OC

Synopsis : A new girl arrives in town around the time of Jason Blossom’s accident. That alone makes her suspicious and unlikeable to most people. Jughead has every reason to investigate on her, the timing is too perfect, right? And it has nothing to do with the young girl’s odd yet charming way of always seeming to find her way back to him, no matter the situation.  

Word Count : 2.7k

MASTERLIST

Part 6 <<< >>> Part 8

“Okay-“ Iris trailed off, stretching the last syllable while squinting her eyes at Jughead. This wasn’t exactly what she expected when she came here. It was the opposite of what she expected honestly. “Now would be a good time to tell me how you know that information about me that I told absolutely no one,” she ended up saying.

“I hacked into your computer and stole all confidential data it contained,” Jughead said. His tone was sarcastic enough to leave no doubt about the fact that he didn’t, in fact, hack into her laptop. “No dummy, I saw it one your ID when you forgot it at Pop’s, remember?” He chuckled, enjoying Iris’ frown of confusion.

This incident had completely slipped her mind and she was stunned that he remember the date of her birthday even though at the time he found her ID they were barely acquaintances and nowhere near being friends yet.

“You don’t call people dummies on their birthday,” she simply said, crossing her arms on her chest. A stern yet playful spark illuminated her eyes as she gave Jughead a pointed look. “But thank you. For remembering, and for the ice cream. Care to share?”

“I wasn’t going to let you eat that all alone anyway,” he scoffed, faking to be offended that she even considered this possibility. “Make your damn wish so we can dig in.”

Iris’ gaze softened and a coy smile stretched her lips. Jughead identified the look on her face as a mix of sadness and fondness, and he couldn’t quite comprehend why these two emotions surfaced now. What did he say?

“I don’t believe in candle wishes, Jug,” she told him in a hushed tone. She sounded like someone who had been hugely disappointed in the past regarding wishes. “If I really want something, I go get it, I don’t wish on a star or a candle or because it’s 11:11,” she explained before blowing out the candle.

“On this joyful note, I suggest we eat,” Jughead said to change the subject.

“Yeah, sorry about my mood it’s been a long night,” Iris said with emphasis on the ‘long’. They both grabbed their spoons and started eating the mountain of ice cream in front of them. “I’ll fill you in later.”

“Later?” Jughead asked. “What do you wanna do later, I thought this was ‘later’?”

“No way I’m finishing the night sober,” Iris declared. “We take my car, go somewhere else and I’m not letting you leave before we finish my entire emergency pack of beer,” she said without leaving him a choice.

“Should I be worried that you have an emergency pack of beer in your car?”

“It does come in handy,” she nodded her head thoughtfully.

“Hey,” Jughead said to get her attention, his spoon still in his mouth. He played with it before sticking it out and taking a bit more of the chocolate chip ice cream. “I have to say- your outfit is on point tonight.” He chuckled when he saw the outrage on Iris’ face.

“Oh my god, shut up!”

*

As promised, Iris and Jughead went on their night drive the second they finished Iris’ monstrous birthday ice cream. She drove them but Jughead decided of the destination. Since she intended to get hammered and won’t be able to drive them back, they shouldn’t get out of town. In the end they settled for the Twilight since it was closed and Jughead had the keys – they could have their very own private projection and sit in the back of the pick-up.

They decided to watch Pulp Fiction but in the end they didn’t pay much attention to the movie and simply sat in the car, happily buzzed after a couple beers each. At some point Iris must have decided she was drunk and high enough to tell him tonight’s events.

“Betty spent the whole dance trying to subtly drop hints to Archie - who was too busy drooling over Veronica to realize his best friend is in love with him. Meanwhile Veronica clearly has a crush on sweet Betty and is trying really hard not to stomp on Archie's foot for being the lucky oblivious guy he is and I somehow ended up stuck in the middle of this infernal love triangle,” Iris explained as best she could without taking a breath and with grand hand gestures.

Jughead merely sat there, jaw hanging slightly open, eyes wide, listening intently to every word.

“I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but this thing switches off my brain to mouth filter-” she once again brought the joint to her lips. “-and I haven't known your friends long enough to feel guilty about spilling out some juicy info.”

“Everything you just said is wrong,” Jughead scoffed. “I don't know Veronica, I don't speak to Archie anymore and Betty I just know because she's lived here her whole life. And my classmates' romantic interests hardly classify as juicy info.”

“You're too hard on everyone, you know? That includes yourself. I'm sure if I asked Betty she'd say you're her friend, no second thought.”

“Yeah coz she's nice to everyone!” Jug's voice showed signs of annoyance now. “If I'm too cynical for you why don't you go back to the party and hang out with Mrs & Mrs Perfect?”

“I'm not interested in befriending people who are friends with just anyone. And in case I'm still being too subtle about it: I mean that I'd rather spend my time bickering back and forth with you than to hear one more conversation about Archie and his abs.”

“Is that really what girls talk about during their no boys allowed conversations? It's quite disappointing, I was hoping for something more thrilling, less predictable.”

“If it was up to me we wouldn't talk about any of Archie's body parts,” Iris said in a laugh which made her snort faintly, consequently stopping the laughter.

“Good to now,” Jughead simply commented. Clearly he was done talking about this. “Am I high or is there no sound to this movie?” He asked Iris, pointing at the giant screen.

“Yes to both, the sound's been off for ten minutes now,” she told him and started giggling for no apparent reason. “And I'm high too!”

“High enough to spill out all the shit you think of the people you've met so far,” Jughead pointed out. It made her feel bad all of a sudden, like he just flipped a switch inside her and her mood drastically changed. “Never thought you were one of those people.”

“I'm not! I'm trying not to be... anymore,” Iris protested, handing the joint over to Jughead. He distractedly took it but didn't bring it to his lips. “I didn't sign up for this shit,” Iris breathed out almost inaudibly but Jughead caught it.

She was referring to the beginning of drama that sparked tonight. Jughead let out a humorous chuckle before taking the joint from her hand.

“That's not how it works. If you want friends you've got to take it all, the good, the bad, the worse. You don't get to pick.”

“Please don't tell me you get all philosophical and deep when you're high,” she groaned.

“I wouldn't know, I've never smoked before tonight, not even a cigarette,” he chuckled.

Iris sat up straight and quickly retrieved the joint from between Jughead's lips right before he could take another drag, only to throw it away.

“What?” She squeaked out. “You should have told me! How many drags did you take?”

“I don't know? Two?”

“Ah,” she let out a relieved sigh. “How long in between?”

“How am I supposed to know that?” He grumbled – he played grumpy now that he took away his source of amusement. “Five, maybe ten minutes?”

“Good, when it's your first time you should wait a good ten minutes between each drag or you'll end up throwing up your guts.”

“Lovely.”

“Hey!” She said in excitement, already clutching his arm.

“I have no idea what you're about to say but I know I won't like it,” Jughead mumbled, letting himself drop against the car again.

“You Jughead Jones are the biggest buzz-kill I have ever met in my life!” She laughed. He scoffed but his lips were twisted in an amused half smile. “Okay, no drinking anymore for me tonight or I'll never be able to walk through the woods.”

“The woods? You want to go take a midnight walk in the forest while there's an abductor – and potential killer – on the loose?” Jughead asked her, dumbfounded. “No weed for you anymore either.”

“I already threw it away anyway,” Iris said. “And yes, I want to go to the river. It's my birthday you can't refuse me anything!”

“It's half past midnight, your birthday's been over for thirty minutes now,” he deadpanned but Iris didn't laugh. “Yeah, yeah whatever you want. We'll go to the river, but don't tell me I'm a buzz-kill anymore!”

She smiled and gently bumped hr shoulder against his.

“It's a terrible idea by the way. We're probably going to die painfully and slowly,” he declared dramatically.

“At least we'll end with a bang, not a whimper,” Iris giggled as she slid off the car and onto the floor. She tested her balance and seemed to be doing fine.

“T.S.Eliot probably does a back flip in his grave every time someone uses this quote incorrectly.”

“I know it's not the right quote, but in this situation I needed it to be this way around.”

She gestured him to follow her and once Jughead stood next to her, she looped her hand around his elbow and together they began to walk towards the edge of the forest. Neither of them knew how to get to Sweetwater river from the drive-in. They walked in a comfortable silence and followed the sound of the water hitting the rocks.

Iris' impractical dress sometimes got caught in bushes and stray branches – she tried to handle it with care since it was Veronica's, but it might already be too late. Same goes for her shoes which were slightly more brown than white at this point. She was a bit cold too but that wasn't a problem, Iris' excitement kept her warm.

“What's with your obsession with this river?” Jughead asked.

“I had never been to a river before. I'm a city girl remember? When I opened the window I heard car honks, not birds chirping.”

“You know most people living in small towns would sell their souls to leave this place and go to a big city, right?” Jughead said.

Iris stopped walking to answer him while looking him in the eyes.

“I'd gladly trade places with them. Moving here was difficult of course, I had friends, I had habits, a favorite coffee shop and a spot in the park  where I liked to sit and do homework during sunny days – but everything was artificial. I was artificial. I like myself better since I've moved here. And I love watching the river and listening to the water running.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“Yes. I've never been at this time of day. Come now.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the path. “I think we're almost there.”

“There where?”

“Shh,” she hushed him. “For once in your life, stop talking. Even when you were all broody at our booth when we first met you couldn't keep your mouth shut.”

“Touché,” he said and clasped his free hand over his heart.

He realized they were now walking along the bank of the river and although he wasn't going to admit it, it was a very nice spot at night. There was something slightly off though, Jughead couldn't quite place his finger on it. The feeling didn't go away during the follow ten minutes of silence it took them to reach a place he finally recognized.

“Are you crazy?” Jughead asked in a whisper. He didn't know why he whispered but it felt wrong to talk out loud. He had pulled on Iris' hand to make her stop walking and she practically fell backwards but he caught her. “We shouldn't be here!”

She had brought them to the bullet tree. They had already been questioned once for hanging out there and Sheriff Keller grilled them and gave them his scolding paternal stare for being on a crime scene late at night. And that was the first time.

“It's a good spot and I've been here again since I found the bullet. They took it, now there's only a hole in the tree,” she told him along with a sad wince. “I promise there's no risk of being caught here.”

“You're a little bit intense you know? And that's coming from me,” Jughead told her, still not letting her go.

Iris placed her other hand over Jughead's and smiled softly, in a way that made it hard to believe she wasn't sober. For a brief second, Jughead thought she might have acted drunk before and actually wasn't.

“Never change anything,” he added with a grin. Iris smiled bigger and when his grip on her loosened she led them to their bullet tree. “I don't know who you were before coming to Riverdale but I like this version of you, so- I'm sure you changed for the better.”

“You like it?” She asked.

Iris said 'it' but they both heard 'me'. He didn't answer but his expression seemed to be eloquent enough. They didn't know why but they suddenly became hyper aware of the fact that they were still holding hands. Iris was the first to let go when the tension became unbearable. She turned around and made her way through the bushes and to the flat rocks next to the tree where she wanted to sit. The torrent was stronger here and louder.

Jughead was taken aback – he usually wasn't the one who craved contact, which made it all the more surprising that Iris pulled away. He sat down close enough to her that they arms and legs were touching. Iris didn't seem to mind and even leaned a bit against him, but this coziness was of limited duration. The warmth they found in each other was swept away by the scream that pierced the silence and made them jerk away from each other and jump to their feet.

“What the hell?” Iris cursed.

“We have to get away from here!” Jughead said, grabbing Iris' arm and pulling it.

“What?! No! What if someone's being attacked!”

“We'll call the cops, but we can't stay here! We don't know what's going on,” he insisted. If he were alone he would have gone but Iris and her tendency to dive head first in dangerous situations made him feel like it was his responsibility to keep her safe. Which was insane.

“No, Jughead!” Iris ripped her arm out of his grasp. “I'm going.”

“Okay, okay, I'll come with you. But we don't do anything stupid,” he warned her. “I'm going to regret this.”

Iris and Jughead silently ran through the woods, trying to find the source of the scream that made their hairs stand on end. Suddenly, she felt herself being pulled back again and Iris' back knocked against Jughead's chest. Just when she was about to ask what was going on he put his hand over her mouth.

“Don't say anything,” he whispered. “Look, down there.”

He carefully withdrew his hand from her mouth when he was sure she would stay quiet and she leaned over to see what he was talking about. She had to bite on her hand to muffle a scream and Jughead pulled her once again to his chest to keep her out of sight.

Down by the river, a few meters away from them, there was Kevin and Moose, shirtless on the ground and right in front of them, the visibly dead body of a young ginger man – whom Iris identified as Jason Blossom.

A/N: Do you realize that it's already chapter 7 and we only just reached the end of episode 1 in GMTA's timeline??? Rest assured that I won't follow everything of the Riverdale plot, there will be no Polly, this will strictly revolve around Jughead and Iris. But I needed to place them in context, and as you can see “placing in context” in my language means “writing a little less then 20k worth of 'introduction'.”

Taglist: @bathshebaa  @deanackles67 @myteenwolf-world @mumblr-of-tumbir @devilishcloe @bettysreid @angelicawastaken @rebellioncass @adorableninja @scattered-glances @ri-verdale @ice-wolfie @bubblegumcat229 @murderyoursoul @morixeddu @emptyporsche @lucifer-the-cuddler @challenge-accep-ted @scattered-glances @fantiomaticsupertolkienlover

[the-blissful-one]

Okay, let me know if you get this. When he had like a month left mako can't find Bolin one night so he sets off into the city to find him. He finds him sitting under a big oak tree in the park, staring up at the sky. Mako sits down beside him. Before mako can say anything, Bolin asks if he thinks he'll remember his life be a spirit or if he'll be reincarnated. Mako doesn't want to think about that. Bolin needs mako to promise him to keep going when he dies. How do you see this going down?

Mako can´t remember how many times he has searched for his littlebrother. But since childhood, Mako often had to go on a look out for the earthbender. When Bo was little, he used to run away when he was scared. Either heran away because he feared that Mako might yell at him for something he did. Hegot scared of the triads and ran away- which could result in much more troublefor both boys, but Mako never held it against Bolin.

Now at 23, Mako once again searched for his baby brother.

He decided to walk, knowing that Bolin wouldn’t come far if hewalked. And if Bolin managed to hail a cab or something, Mako knew that hewouldn’t go far. Plus, Bolin didn’t take a cab or the bus for that matter; heleft his wallet at home. Bolin defiantly walked to wherever he was.

Mako figured he went to the park. Bo used to go there when he ranaway, and Mako figured not too much had changed about his brother now.

It took a while to actually find Bolin when Mako arrived at thepark. It was empty, since it was almost midnight. Expect for the stray animalsthat dug in the trash cans, the park was empty.

Bolin sat under a big oak three, looking up at the starry sky.

Mako wordlessly sat down beside him, knowing that he just have togive Bolin time. He pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around Bolinsshoulders, since he wasn’t wearing any.

They sat in silence for a long time. Bolin hadn´t speared him aglance. Not one. He was still looking up at the sky. Mako looked at the samedirection as Bolin. It was a beautiful night. Autumn had just arrived,resulting in the nights getting darker and stars getting clearer. There was acold breeze flowing around them, but except for that; it was calm and quiet.

Just as Mako was about to ask why Bolin wanted to take walk in themiddle of the night, Bolin spoke up.

“Do you think normal humans become spirits when they die?”

Mako narrowed his eyes at him. After Bolin got terminal, he got alot more philosophic. That wasn’t unusual for dying people; to think aboutdeath and the afterlife- if there were any.

“Do you think we can, like, remember our past life as a spirit. Ormaybe we get reincarnated too, like the avatars.” Bolin still didn’t look athim. He had this intense, curious gaze at the heaven. Like he is trying to lookfor an answer.

Mako doesn’t want to think about it. Haven´t they experience enoughdeath in their lives, already? If it where like the deseeded people gotreincarnated into new people, wouldn’t their parents been walking on the earthitself right now. If people where to remember their past life, why didn’teveryone talk about it. No, Mako believed that the only person who could everconnect and get a new chance on life; was the avatars.

“I don´t want to talk about this, Bolin.”

Bolin finally spared him a glance. His face didn’t betray anyemotions, but Mako had to say that he looked calm. It bothered Mako to someextent. He wished he could understand his brother like he did before he gotsick.

“Why not?” Bolin asked easily. Mako noticed that his voice soundedheavy in some way, but couldn’t really place it. “I think is kind of exciting.A mystery.”

Mako looked up at the sky again. “Wouldn’t the dead people contacttheir loved once.” He mumbled quietly.

“I don’t think they would. It will interfere with the people thatare left behind…I think, it would have been too sad.”

Mako choose to not say anything back. It wouldn’t help him in anyway. They sat in silence for a long time. Mako kept glancing between Bolin andthe sky, seeing if there was any change. It wasn’t before they reached tenminutes of silence that Bolin´s shoulders started to tremble.

Mako instantly scooted closer and wrapped an arm around him. Maybeit was time for Mako to get him home. “Bolin, what is the matter? Are you hurt,or sick? What do you need?”

Bolin shook his head. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrappedhis arms around them. Hiding his head from Mako, he finally started to sob. Makorubbed his back, not saying anything.

He didn’t know why Bolin was crying, but he figured it had somethingto do with his diagnosis. Being terminal brought on a lot of mood swings. Onemoment he was fine, the other moment, Bolin could be crying. Maybe he just hid everythinginside so he wouldn’t seem as much as a burden, but that obviously didn’t work.

After a few minutes of crying, Mako asked again what was wrong.Bolin tried to dry his eyes from the tears and steady his breath.

“What when I am gone?” Bolin asked when he had managed to sober enoughup to speak clearly.

Mako looked down at him. It was a question Mako had avoided. It wastoo sad to think about that.

“What will happen to all of you guys when I am dead?” Bolin driedhis tears and sniffed. “I-I mean, I won´t know that you are good and well. Ican´t cheer you guys up when you are all sad. And Pabu won´t have anyone tocarry him around.” Bolin started another spree of crying and Mako let him.

“Bolin, try to breath. You are working yourself up.” He rubbed hisback and held Bo close.

Bolin shook his head some more. He buried his head in the nook ofMako´s neck, holding a death grip around his lower torso. “What if there isnothing after I am dead. Like nothing. A life can´t just end like that, Mako.”

Mako blinked back his own tears and nodded. He tried to figure outsome way to talk to Bolin without upsetting him more.

“I mean there must be a way to connect with your family again afteryou are dead. The avatars can, normal humans should be able to do that too.”The grip on Mako loosed slightly. The older brother saw it as a good thing.Maybe he was finally calming down?

“Bo, I know you are scared. But it will be fine. With all of us.”Mako murmured back. Bolin shook his head at him.

“No, you don’t know that!” Bolin was getting frustrated. He hadtried reading himself up on the afterlife, which was hard because he wasn’t agood reader. But one of the only “normal” people that had turned into spirits,was General Iroh. He became a spirit, but he was already a spiritual person.Bolin wasn’t spiritual by any means. And it wasn’t like he could just decidethat after he had died, he could choose to be a spirit. That would make thingseasier. Mako could come and visit, he could see his friends and Opal again.Plus, Pabu could come and live with him. He would die and never see them again.

Mako looked at loss for a few minutes. He let Bolin cry himselftired. It worked, Bolin seemed to go numb in his arms. He was still holdingonto Mako like his life depended on it, but he was getting calmer.

Mako broke the hug and held him at arm’s length. Bolin looked away,but Mao saw his flushed cheeks and red eyes. He ignored it for the sake ofBolin.

“Bolin, I know you are scared. So am I, but it will be fine.” Makofelt a few tears roll down his cheeks, but he couldn’t start crying too; theywould be seated in the park the whole night. “It would be a living hell, but weall will manage. That is something you don’t need to worry about.” Mako huggedhim again.

“Can you promise me that, Mako?!” Bolin spoke up again.

“Promise you what, Bro?” Mako frowned.

“That you will still be happy and fine after I am dead.” Bolin tooka deep breath. It was shaky, but when he spoke up; his voice was clear. “Iwon´t be here to make sure you are fine, so need to promise me that you willkeep going after I am dead.”

Mako did sob this time. He quickly wiped his tears and hugged Bolincloser to him. He didn’t want to promise something like that to him, he wasn’teven sure that he would be fine. Correction, he knew he wouldn’t be fine, oranything near okay. He would be miserable.

If it was like the same after his parents died, he would be a total wreck.It was different back then, he had to keep himself intact for Bolin. But therewas only so much an eight-year-old could hold together. He slipped many times,but Bolin had always been there to pull him back.  Mako knew very well that Bolin had for so longbeen his reason for continuing. If Bolin- when Bolin died, a part of Mako wasterrified of what life would be like without his little brother.

But things were different know. None of them were alone. Mako hadhis grandmother, uncles and aunts with children. He had the air benders that alwayshad been more than generous towards him and Bo. Mako also had Korra and Asami,and even though Mako had gone through a lot with both; he knew they wouldalways be there. He still understood where Bolin´s anxiety came from. A lotcould change between friends and family, but Mako knew that they wouldn’t bailon each other any time soon.

Bolin had nothing to fear.

“Bolin, please look at me?” Mako rubbed his back.

Bolin shook his head.

“Bolin, please, I will be fine.” Mako spoke up. He thought his voicecouldn’t sound more pathetic, but he couldn’t help it. “Bolin, I know it won´tbe fine the first month after you are dead, or he first years, even. I know itwill be hard- so hard. It will take years, but I will be fine.”

Bolin pulled away and looked at him. Mako supposed they looked thesame. Same grim face expression with tear tracks covering their cheeks. Makosmiled sadly to him.

“I promise you that I won’t give up.” Mako looked Bolin in the eyes,so he would get that Mako was serious. “I promise you that I will be okay, atleast I am going to try and be, but it will take time.”

Bolin nodded and hugged him again. He started to cry all over again.Mako rocked them back and forth, something their parents would do whenever oneof their boys was upset. It calmed them both.

“T-thank you.” Bolin managed to choke up after a while.

They stayed like that for a while, but Mako knew it couldn’t be goodto be here any longer. He broke apart from Bolin and got up. Bolin pulledMako´s jacket on him properly and looked up at his brother.

Mako smiled to him and reached a hand towards him. Bolin took it andlet Mako pull him off the ground “Come on, let’s go home, Bo.”

With that, Bolin smiled and let Mako lead him home.

[nanostuffs]

Quotes 3/12/17 - 3/18/17

Be warned: Only the first quote is undertale fanficiton, and there’s a lot of alien shit in this one.

3/12/17 - True Courage Is Knowing... When To Spare A Life (Undertale Fanfiction)

Frisks favorite book in the whole world (and believe them, there were a lot of books) was The Hobbit. And sure, it was a very violent book, with a surprising amount of death for something considered a children’s novel, but there were some better points to it. Frisk loved that Bilbo learnt new things about himself, and yet at the end of the day was still the slightly fussy, and well put together hobbit he started as. Frisk liked that Bilbo didn’t know how to fight at the start of the journey, and used his wits to keep himself safe. Frisk saw a lot of themselves in Bilbo.

Gandalf said to Bilbo, true courage is about knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one. Frisk took that to heart, even when they ended up all the way down in the pit of monsters known as The Underground.

3/13/17 - It is Possible to Commit no Mistakes and Still Lose. That is Life.

I’mork watched the dark haired human curse and pull on the yarn she was working with, before reinserting her hook and fiddling with the yarn once again.

“Is it possible to not make a mistake?” the blue blob asked.

“Mistakes are a human thing,” Jane half shrugged, focusing on looping yarn around hook and pulling it though stitches to make more stitches.

“I meant more would it be possible to make a machine that does the same thing you do, and not have to worry about there being errors?” the blob slid in front of the couch where Jane was crocheting, leaving it’s slime trail behind it.

“Perhaps,” Jane replied, “But you realize it’s possible to end up with a bad product even if the designer made absolutely no mistakes, right? That’s just how life is sometimes.”

“Are you trying to be philosophical?” I’mork asked, “I don’t appreciate your attempts to dodge the question.”

“Well, I actually wasn’t,” the brunette shook her head, “But I guess that did sound kind of deeper than I meant it to. To answer your question, probably, but one would still need to know the basics of crochet in order to use it and have a nice result.”

3/14/17 - I’m a Doctor, not A…

“Khrelen, something’s wrong with the human!” I’mork shouted at the giant doctor.

“What’s the matter? Is she bleeding?” Krelen was quick to put their book down and stand.

“She’s crying, but shows no physical reason for it,” I’mork stayed close to the door, knowing better than to trail slime into the medical ward.

“Did she complain about being in pain?” Khrelen reached into a cabnet filled with vials of liquids.

“She said it’s not a physical pain like cramps,” I’mork said, “She said it’s psychological.”

“Well I don’t think there’s anything I can do then,” Khrelen shrugged and returned to her book.

“But you’re a doctor! You have to help!” I’mork cried.

“I’m a doctor, not a psychologist,” Khrelen glared at I’mork, “Now stop wasting my time and make sure the human doesn’t act out.”

“Her name’s Jane,” I’mork’s tentacles began to flail, “She’s 25  human years old. She likes  to read, write, crochet, and watch movies. She plays human video games and has a soft spot for Boxe because he is reminiscent of a furry mammal.”

“So?” Khrelen asked, “These are all facts about her. Another fact is that she is in emotional pain, and I do not know how to treat that. Now go cheer her up or something.”

“Fine!” I’mork left an extra large puddle of slime behind them.

3/15/17 - We Successfully Rescued You. You are Refusing to be Rescued. I Wanna Make That Clear.

“Hey, wait,” Jane dragged her feet as one of the three men dragged her towards the air lock.

“No time for waiting sweetheart,” the guy dragging her said, “If we don’t move quickly your captors are gonna wake up and we really don’t want that.”

“And I don’t think I want to go anywhere with you,” Jane attempted to free her arm from the man’s gasp by punching his hand, be he refused to release her. Thankfully her being dragged along was ended by the leader of the group stopping.

“Let me get this straight, you don’t want to leave?” He asked.

“They might have ‘captured’ me, but I feel safe here,” Jane growled, “Thank you for trying to rescue me, but it’s not needed.”

“We successfully rescued you! You are refusing to be rescued. I wanna make that clear.” The leader glared back at her.

“Well then we’re all clear,” Jane shrugged, “Tell whoever you report to that Jane Crow is happier in the company of aliens than humans.”

Her am was immediately released, and she was pushed away from the group of three. She watched as they escaped the ship through the air lock. She knew she’d have to get back to the room her aliens had kept her locked in, but for now she could watch her last thought of returning to humanity drift away from the ship.

3/16/17 - Maybe you've heard of it: Foodfight! is the worst movie ever made! (The Flop House, Episode 138)

Jane found that she had a soft spot for listening to podcasts while crocheting. It was soothing to listen to two guys make fun of a bad movie while she did her own thing. It reminded her of home, and while it did make her feel more homesick, it also made the pain of not being able to go home dissipate.

3/17/18 - “... They Lost My Luggage, It’s the One Thing I Lost on This Trip!”

“You’ve been doing pretty well,” Thalia watched as her much shorter friend slice a sword through a dummy.

“I should hope so,” Canica stabbed the dummy again, “I placed first in every event here. I placed first in that sprinting session, first in the eating contest, first in the singing contest, and first in the spell casting contest.”

“Is there anything you haven’t won?” Camila asked her teammate.

“The carriage with my luggage got lost on the way up here. They lost my luggage; it’s the one thing I lost on this trip.”

3/18/17 - “Does Anyone Know A Good Plumber?” (Inspired by the Creepy Pasta)

Does anyone know a good plumber? Inspection’s tomorrow and I, like,  have a leaky tub from a fucked up ritual, and like, several dead things scattered around the house, and I think the washer machine is, like, trying to eat me.

It all started a few days ago. I was chatting to this super hot guy on tinder (at least I think it was a guy) and he, like,  asked me if I could like, do a ritual to summon a demon/ghost/demi-god thing. And I was all like, sure I can bby. And then he was like, try to summon a water spirit thing for me and then I’ll come over to your house, exorcise it for you, and then we can fuck. That was, like, his actual message.

I decided that, like,  it sounded like a fantastic idea, so long as he also brought drugs. Cause, ya know, if I’m gonna, like,  do a shitty ritual for sex, there better also be drugs. Also my dealer’s in a holding cell for buying a whore. Like, I know sex is fun and all, but like, how the hell did you not get caught for drugs?

Anyway, he agreed to bring drugs, but like, it’d have to wait a couple of days for him to get the drugs. We decided that like, we should do this on a wednesday, cuase apparently  that’s when drugs from his “hommie” are like, super cheap or something. So I set my alarm to go off at like, midnight on Wednesday so that, like, I could get the ritual done before having to go to work and some fun that night.

My alarm didn’t go off until 1 in the morning because I’m an idiot. So like, I had to do everything super quickly. I didn’t bother getting dressed, and just went into my bathroom, to like, do the ritual. So I went into bathroom, and lit, like five candles and arranged them in a pentagon. I then used some string to like, outline the pentagon and make some, like, super special runes to keep me from summoning something that would, like, actually kill me. I was supposed to do a, like, hour long chant at half-past midnight, but since I was late anyway, I just did a quick little, please come forth deadly water thingie so that I can like, get a good dicking.

It sort of worked? A pipe burst through my bathroom wall. I like, realized at that moment that inspections is supposed to be on Sunday. Fuck. So I packed everything up and got dressed, since I was up anyway, I may as well have like, started early. I found out that all of my business clothes were, like, dirty and shit. So I picked everything up and walked my bra and underwear clad ass to the laundry room to do laundry.

There was this, like, super creepy dude in there though. He was, white, lacked a face, and was super twiggy. He was also in a, like, tux or some shit. He just calmly waved a hand at me. I guess that slut in 4b has a goddamn gentleman as a booty call now. Anyway, I waved back and tried to flirt with the guy. He like, beat a hasty retreat from the room. Actually, now that I think about it, he like, didn’t have a face. Fuckin’ weirdo.

So, like, I started to put my laundry into the washing machine, but like, I thought I heard screaming from inisde the machine. I took a look, but there was nothing in there. So I just put in my load and set the machine to delicate so it wouldn’t rip any of my nice shirts. When I turned around, the pipes seemed to slither across the floor and were starting to take up the room. I booked it for the door and didn’t pass go.

Long story short, I’m locked up in my apartment with a pipe hanging out of the wall and leaking water into the tub. Also there’s some dead things around the apartment, mostly rodents because mouse traps. Does anyone know a good plumber in Maricopa County who won’t ask any questions?