#may she rest in piece and I thank her for the many years of play I got out of her <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[caimdrakengard]

literally cried over my PS4 controller dying the other day, I got a new one thankfully. but damn, it broke my heart seeing my original controller reach it’s end after 7 years :(

[redfoxwritesstuff]

For Eternity, Chapter 9 of 13 (Alastor x Wife!OC)

Alastor x Angel!Wife Oc (Isabel) Rated: Adult - this fic contains content inappropriate for minors. Chapter Warnings: A little bit of controlling? Alastor's slightly unstableness.

@impulsivethoughtsat2am Was darling enough to beta <3 Many thanks, Dearheart.

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Isabel took a deep breath and tried to push her fear out of her mind. Though she did not know this side of Alastor, she had loved him in life and in the decades after her death. There was so much she didn’t know about him and the realm that was going to be her home from now until the end of eternity, but she had to trust in their love. 

It was better that so focused on the things she knew, so that’s what she focused on. She knew the way he would say her name on air, always mentioning her if he’d play her favorite songs. It was the same way he said her name now.

“Why do you sound like you’re on air?” Finally, she asked him a question that didn’t have earth shattering consequences. 

“Because I want to.” He answered, voice naked of the static and distortion. It was the voice that would eagerly sing whatever tune the radio was playing as he twirled her around their modest living room. It was a piece of her Alastor, under all the bloodshed and red.

Closing her eyes, she focused on the way his hands felt on her. Not the hard points of his talons, but the softness of his palms and the way he would caress her. That was the same too. 

“I never stopped loving you,” He whispered as her eyes slowly slid open again, looking timidly at his red and pink eyes. “Not for a single heartbeat.” 

“Neither have I,” he was so close now. When had he gotten so close? 

“I know,” he teased, “The princess told me.” 

The kiss was soft at first, his lips caressing hers with a sweetness that she had remembered. He pulled her into him tighter as he indulged in the feeling of her in his arms. His fingers wrapped around her wing firmly, holding the proof of her purity from sin in his hands. 

He gripped the wing tighter as her hands ran up his chest, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. A shudder ran down his spine as, for the first time in over fifty years, her fingers danced up the back of his neck, caressing the soft hair at the base of his skull. 

His undercut was too short for her to run her fingers through the hair, instead she ran her nails over the hair, softly scratching at his scalp. It was a different feeling, having her hands on him than it had been in life. He was taller, with more extreme contrasts in every way, but she didn’t find that as unappealing as she would have thought. 

He was too broad in places, too thin in others and yet all she felt under her hands was the ever strong feeling of Alastor that she remembered from life. His lips parted as he sucked her lower lip between his. 

Nipping at the tender flesh as he had done countless times in life earned him the same sharp gasp. He chuckled, delighted to know he could still play her masterfully as he dipped his tongue between her parted lips.

She arched into the kiss as he tasted her with a too long, too thick tongue. She battled against him, pushing back to taste him. It was strange. His teeth violently pointed and sharp, scratched at her easily while she clung to him.

As he reluctantly drug his lips from hers and rested his forehead against her, she chased his lips. Pecking them again and again, she tried to seduce him into something deeper as he chuckled again. 

“Ma chérie, we have all the time in the world for that. Your presence is requested inside,” Alastor stepped aside, turning and tucking her into his side as he led them away from the mass grave, holding what little remained of the man who dared touch her where she should have been safest. 

In a way, though, he would thank Adam before killing him if he stood before Alastor now. It was the evidence left by Adam’s hands that told him that regardless of what Isabel may accept of his sins, Heaven was no promise of her safety. It was his marks that told him he could indulge in selfishness and not seek a way to return her to her rightfully earned heavenly home. 

“I fear the others are eager to meet you.”

“How do you know that?” She let him lead her toward the tall building, slowly making their way around to the front. 

“I have my ways,” Alastor smiled down at her before pointing at his shadow, walking alongside them, cast on the side of the building somewhat unnaturally. 

It shifted, leaning forward. A wide smile and two eyeholes cut out of the darkness as slightly larger antlers grew atop the shadow head. Then the shadow lifted its arm in a wave while Alastor’s arms remained as they were. 

“Oh, my,” she flinched away from the shadow as it waved at her. “Is- what is that?”

“My shadow,” Alastor looked at it and for a moment, he and his shadow wore matching wide grins. 

“It moved when you didn’t.” 

“Oh yes, he does that.” Alastor watched as the shadow peeled itself off the wall, becoming more solid as it approached Isabel. “You do not have to fear it. It is simply a part of me, a manifestation of my power.” 

“Do you control it?” She asked as it held out its hand for hers.

When Alastor nodded, she slipped her hand into the pitch black hand. It was cold and just solid in a way she couldn’t explain. It brought her knuckles to its shadow grin and kissed them as black hearts erupted around it, beating in the air surrounding its head. 

“I can, to a degree, when I wish to. Regretably, he largely acts on his own and, with little care for appearances or propriety.” Alastor let her arm fall from his as the shadow tugged her to it, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her through a burst of dance, twirling her before returning her to the red Alastor’s side. “At his core, he is me and I am him. He knows what I know and acts on that. You have no reason to fear him.” 

“Can he speak?” She glanced between Alastor and the shadow that had partially returned to its proper place, strolling along the wall. 

The shadow shook its head negatively as Alastor answered verbally, “No, he’s mute mostly.”

Holding the door open for her, Alastor ushered her inside the hotel where she was instantly enveloped in four pink arms. 

“Thank fuck, what took you so long?” Angel Dust lifted her off her feet and twirled her. 

“That’s enough of that.” Alastor said, as he quickly reclaimed his wife. 

“Scared the fuck outta me when I got back, and you hadn’t brought her in yet.” 

“I’m sorry,” Isabel squeezed one of Angel Dust’s hands before fully rejoining Alastor’s side. “We were catching up in the garden.”

“Oh, my gosh, you’re here!” The Princess of Hell herself rushed up to them as if they were best friends. 

“Allow me to properly introduce you,” Alastor’s hand found Isabel’s shoulder as it had countless times in life. “Isa, this is Princess Charlotte Morningstar, owner and founder of this darling facility and crown princess of Hell. Charlie, this is my beloved wife, Isabel.” 

“I am so sorry for what happened to you!” Charlie wrapped Isabel up in a tight hug, squeezing the air from her lungs in a high-pitched wheeze. 

“It’s hardly your fault.” Isabel struggled to say as she tried to once again fill her lungs with air. “It is lovely to see you again. Thank you for bringing him my message.”

“It really was for him?” The woman who had visited Heaven with Charlie said. 

“This is my girlfriend, Vaggie” Charlie said, presenting the smaller woman with much pride. “She’s also an angel!” 

“A heaven-born?” Shock washed over Isabel’s face.

“Fallen, but yes- I was of Adam’s army.” Vaggie clarified her status. “I fell for showing mercy to sinners. Adam and his lieutenant found that unforgivable.”

“I’m so sorry for what they put you through.” 

“Don’t be,” Vaggie smiled, looking up at Charlie as she continued to speak, “They left me here, where she found me. It was worth everything to end up with her.” 

There could be love in hell, Isabel realized. Vaggie looked at Charlie the same way Isabel spent not nearly enough nights looking at Alastor. She had much time to make up for. 

“Ah!” Alastor swept out a hand as he lead her deeper into the lobby. “This little darling is Nifty, the hotel maid.” 

The woman buzzed a greeting and was off in a flash, leaving Isabel dazed as she was moved on through the space, trailed by the others. It was a novelty to see Alastor with someone outside of their circle and none were eager to give up the tender sight. 

“Is that man a cat? With wings?” Isabel leaned into Alastor as she whispered for fear of causing offence. 

“I am,” the man grumpily answered, earning a shocked squeak from Isabel, “And I can hear you.” 

“This good fellow is Husker, a long-time associate of mine,” Alastor swept out his arm far more dramatically than he had for the others.

“Associate? Is that what we’re calling it now?” The cat-bird-man-thing grumbled. 

“Should you require anything and I am not around, he will be most gracious in assisting you.” Alastor continued, not missing a beat. 

“Not like I’ve got a fuckin choice,” Husk grumbled again, eyes hardly leaving the glass he was cleaning. 

“Husk, you’ll do for her as you would do for me, going forward. Is that understood?” 

“Yep,” the man softened as Angel Dust leaned on the bar, not having to ask for a drink before one was poured for him. 

“Be nice, Whiskers, she’s good.” Angel Dust offered, grabbing up his drink before turning to Isabel, “He’s good too. Even if he works for ol creepy face, you can trust him.” 

“Are you alright though?” Isabel reached out, resting a hand on one of his arms. “We just left you there.” 

“Nothing I can’t handle. It’s my job.”

“My darling has had an eventful few days. I think we’ll do well to retire for the night so that she may rest.” Alastor again directed, controlling her interactions with the others. 

Isabel waved goodbye to the group she had just met as Alastor led her away. 

“Is she going to be okay with him?” Vaggie asked as she and Charlie joined the others at the bar. 

“I think so, actually.” Angel Dust wasn’t the biggest fan of Alastor, but he had seen the way Isabel looked at him and him at her. Hell, he had listened to the way she had talked about her husband. There was no denying Alastor’s reaction to hearing that she was in danger either. “I think she’ll be just fine.” 

“This way, my dear,” Alastor lead the way down the hallway with ease and comfort that told of a great deal of time spent in the space. 

“Do you live here?” Isabel felt strange asking her husband such a question. For decades, their lives had been separate, but they should have always been two people living their lives together.

“Indeed, I do. I suppose you do now as well.” Alastor smiled down at her. It wasn’t optional for her to live her life in hell anywhere but where he spent the vast majority of his time. “I am the facility manager of this fine establishment. While I hold a residence elsewhere, this functions as my primary residence for the time being.” 

“I never would have pictured you as a hotelier,” 

“I do maintain my broadcast tower as well. My studio is in the radio tower attached to the building for ease of access. I broadcast my radio show frequently enough to satisfy the desire.”

“Always a man of the radio,” Isabel smiled softly, charmed at this part of her husband that had seemingly remained unchanged. “Jazz still?” 

“Ha! Indeed! Among other things,” Alastor failed to elaborate what those other things were. “Here we are, ma chérie- this one is us. If you follow the hall down to the end, you’ll find my broadcast tower.”

Alastor pulled out the silver pocket watch from his pocket, catching the way Isabel’s smile grew at the sight of it. On the chain was the simple key for the door. It was an unneeded precaution, the primary lock when he was away from the residence was magical, but he was a man of habit. 

Opening the door for her, he watched with pride as shock painted her face at the room holding a pocket dimension on the far wall. 

TagList: @preciousbabypeter, @catticora, @alastor-simp, @alastorthirsty, @bufaunfu

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 1)

Haymitch x Fem!Reader

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Prologue

“Well,” Haymitch grunts, rising from his seat in the bar car, “that’ll do it.”

Y/N knows the drill. Busying herself with the game plan, preparing the devices for her tributes. Loaded with resources to aid in their training.

Haymitch leans down, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head before stumbling away toward their train car.

He won’t even see them, not until it’s absolutely necessary. Haymitch has no desire to make small talk; he doesn’t want to know them. Just makes it harder in the end.

His wife, on the other hand, is either a saint or criminally insane by Haymitch’s account. She insists on knowing them, allowing each to take a little piece of her off into the arena to die.

He used to spite her for it, for her inability to simply stop running herself into the ground trying to save kids who are already dead. He doesn’t anymore. That’s who she is and he learned to love her for it. Still, Haymitch doesn’t want to watch. He was always better at picking up pieces than keeping things in place.

“Y/N Abernathy!” A shrill voice scolds when the set of doors behind the youngest victor open without warning.

“Effie Trinket.” Y/N waves a hand in her direction.

“What are you doing? Where is Haymitch? The two of you are meant to be-”

“Look, you’re new at this. I get it, everything is exciting. Can’t wait to make these kids arena ready in just a few days.” Y/N grumbles, never looking up from her tablet. “But it doesn’t work like that. We’re stuck on this fucking train until tomorrow morning with no weapons to train them and no cameras to wave at. There’s no rush.”

“Language!” Effie gasps at her choice of words, coming to stand in front of Y/N with both hands on her hips. “The tributes are waiting.”

“How many people have you killed?” Y/N asks, turning her eyes up at Effie.

The woman simply balks at her, speechless.

“Have you ever held your intestines in your hands? Or fought your way to the top of an hourglass that was slowly filling with sand?”

Effie narrows her eyes into slits. She’d been warned that Haymitch might be hard to manage, but no one said a thing about her.

“It’s ok, not many people can say yes.”

Ms. Trinket stomps her foot like a petulant child.

“I don’t tell you how to do your job, stop telling me how to do mine.”

————————————————————————

When Y/N is good and ready she makes her way to the dining car, Katniss and Peeta are sat patiently there. The boy’s fingers picking anxiously at the satin blue arm rest of his chair. Y/N takes a deep breath. Here we go again.

The pair of tributes snap their heads in her direction, waiting expectantly.

I can’t save you. Only you can do that.

“I’m Y/N. Good to meet you. Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark.” The woman says, more cool and calculated than Katniss expected. She has a digital pad in hand, jotting down notes with her stylus. Giving one to each of them in turn.

“Oh, uh- thank you.” Peeta accepts his gratefully.

“Beginning at the main screen, let me know if you have any questions, there are diagrams of strategies for attack and defense-”

“Where’s Haymitch?” Katniss asks, tapping at her screen with inexperienced fingers.

“He may join us later if it suits him.”

Katniss visibly recoils. This is not the woman the Capitol shoves down their throats on television. Sweet and demure in nature, with a smile to sugar coat even the darkest of thoughts.

“Contingent upon your strengths and weaknesses, this is a playbook of every effective strategy that I’ve seen, heard of, or performed. With different arenas come different challenges, so you’ll need to do some adjusting to meet your specific goals.

If you are skilled in hand to hand combat, I suggest numbers eight through eleven. If you’re skilled in a long range combat, numbers one through five. If you’re skilled in both, I suggest a combination, otherwise known as numbers six and seven. If you’re skilled in neither, I suggest you do the best you can to prepare yourself. Number twelve is for my non fighters, my hiders, climbers and camouflagers. People tend to overlook that strategy all together, but not me. It buys time, if you’re lucky, it buys enough to wait out the masses.”

Peeta nods, hanging on her every word.

“Which one did you use?” Katniss wonders, trying to digest the harsh angles of the first diagram.

“Seven.”

Six and seven are combination. “I thought you won with a knife?” Katniss was only two at the time, but there is no shortage of recap. From the people who love Y/N and the ones who believe that the Capitol ate her soul.

“I took the last career out hand to hand, my partner covered the distance.” Y/N explains. “Axe to district one’s back, gave me a fighting chance. Allies are invaluable weapons if you pick the right ones.”

————————————————————————

Climbing into bed that night Y/N feels Haymitch stir, tossing a lazy arm around her as he nuzzles against her back.

“Well? What’d you think?” He asks, reeking of whiskey. “They gonna last a couple minutes? Hours?”

Y/N feels her jaw tick. “We owe these kids the same care and preparation as we gave the rest.”

“As you gave the rest.” Haymitch says pointedly. “I’m a shit mentor, you told me that.”

“You did this for a long time by yourself and I,” she breaks off, tapping anxiously at his fingers. “I commend you for that. But I can’t do it alone. I’ve tried, it doesn’t work.”

“That is not on you.” Haymitch says, under his breath. “The kids have been too young, too weak-”

She sighs, “if we don’t try, that is on us. Haymitch, what if they were our kids?”

“If we aren’t careful, it will be our kids.”

“Even if we play our parts; ‘oh’ and ‘ah’ like a couple of good little show animals, they could get reaped anyway.”

“We made them the most beloved children in Panem. Nobody will be lining up to watch them fight to the death.” Haymitch tries to brush it off. He can’t even think about shit like that. From the moment they were conceived, the odds were put in their favor.

“There’s never been a child born of two victors, people are curious.” Y/N feels him tense.

“Someone told you that?”

She nods, “Finnick’s heard it a couple times now.”

“Heard it where?” Haymitch demands.

Y/N lowers her voice, “Haymitch, you know where.”

From his patrons, the ones Snow forces on him. They pay with secrets.

Part 2

[writebackatya]

Darkwing Duck’s* Biggest Fans Haters

*As in the old tv show from the world of DuckTales (2017), not the superhero Drake Mallard assumes the identity of to fight evil

To fans like Drake Mallard and Launchpad McQuack, Darkwing Duck is the greatest piece of television history that helped shape their lives to become the ducks they are today thanks to its titular hero who never gave up despite the odds against him

To the rest of the world, Darkwing Duck was just another superhero show from the 90s that starred a problematic diva d-list actor that may or may not have died

Opinions are subjective of course, neither are 100% correct nor incorrect but I feel like when the fandom talks about Darkwing Duck it’s always about the characters that would also like the show. So why not flip the script a little? We’ll start small and work our way up to its biggest hater

Gosalyn Waddlemeyer:

“GOSALYN!?” You might be screaming at your monitor/phone to which I have to say:

“Yeah”

Again we are not talking about the Drake Mallard or his super identity here, but the tv show he and Launchpad are obsessed with. Because frankly, I bet Gosalyn loves doing all that superhero stuff with her adoptive dads. It’s a cool life to live!

Other than the fact that Drake is a huge nerd who INSISTS that Gosalyn do her “homework” and watch every episode of Darkwing Duck, read all the sacred texts (comic books), and playing the original Darkwing Duck video game on the original hardware so she won’t use the rewind or save features that modern games or ROMs have

Like all kids who have had an adult push their interests onto them, she has a little disdain for the show. But not a whole lot since she’s first on this list. I like to think she’s in the same boat as Dewey where she finds the show cheesy and doesn’t really hate it per say and sees why Drake and LP love the show. She even has a few guilty pleasure episodes

But one thing she doesn’t understand is why Drake and Launchpad insist on watching the Darkwing Duck Christmas Special every year when they’re both practicing Jews

Scrooge McDuck:

Yeah the old man can barely remember Drake, let alone the Darkguy Drake played in that movie he cancelled so I don’t really see Scrooge being a fan of the Masked Mallard. (No, not that Masked Mallard OG DuckTales fans)

If Scrooge did sit down and watch the show, he’d find it to be rather ridiculous if anything. Some vigilante running around dressed like The Spirit or The Shadow or whatever superhero kids are into these days getting slapped around and fighting back just doesn’t seem like his cup of tea

I like to think when Donald and Della were kids they watched Darkwing Duck at the mansion and Scrooge just walked by the room, looked at the TV for a few seconds, scoffed, and moved on with his life forgetting all about that nonsense his niece and nephew were watching

Louie Duck:

Honestly I always had this headcanon that Louie just isn’t a fan of superheroes. Like at all. He finds the stories all copy and paste, using all the cliches he hates from other genres and putting them in tights.

And don’t even get him started on superhero related adventures! If he sees a sky beam, Louie is running in the opposite direction of it. He’s not dealing with the many different diva supervillains out there trying to take over the world with cartoony extreme measures, he doesn’t wanna be around all that property damage

He does have a favorite superhero tho. Waddle Duck because he gave him a Pep once

Lena Sabrewing:

She thinks it’s lame.

Gandra Dee:

This is a no brainer for me. Gandra Dee made herself Darkwing Duck’s biggest hater the moment she heard the duck talk shit about Gizmoduck around Fenton who insisted she does not reveal his secret identity to Drake, because Drake is all he has left

Wanting to respect her boyfriend’s wishes, Gandra decides not to spill the beans but instead add more fuel to the fire by talking shit about Darkwing Duck

And she does not hold back

She’s not ashamed to talk shit on the show. It’s predictablity, it’s cheesiness, the plot holes, how lame it was for its own time, etc

It ain’t her childhood, she ain’t afraid to fight dirty either. She will bring up problematic episodes that depicted races in a not so good and stereotypical light (“It was the nineties! They were different times!” -Drake probably) such as the fact that in one episode Darkwing Duck called a group of Native Americans “primitive savages” or that a non-Asian actor played an Asian character in a sterotypcial manner and that how one of the characters names was “Duck Ling”(Okay but for real, all that shit did happen in the OG show.)

This of course frustrates Drake who is extra suspicious of Gandra ever since he saw her with Gizmoduck and writes her off as a blind fan girl who doesn’t know what she’s talking about

She’s pretty chill about not being into the show with Launchpad tho. He respects her opinions because he’s Launchpad and at the end of the day Gandra is still his friend

[andydrysdalerogers]

Cross Checked ~ Chapter 25

Andy Barber x OFC Leighton "Leia" Andrews

Summary:

Andy Barber is having the best year of his life. His game is on point. It’s gets to play with his best friend and his fiancé just... dumped him?!. 

Reeling from a sudden change in status, Andy decides it’s time to just focus on hockey. Until his best friend's sister comes out with news that rock the entire organizations world., 

Andy has always carried a torch for the untouchable Leighton but in her hour of need, is now the time to shoot and score or risk getting cross - checked again? 

Warnings: Cheating (but not by the MCs); slow burn; friends to lovers eventually; SMUT!; pregnancy; jealousy; handsome goalies, evil exes...

A/N: Its here! The finale of our Boston babes! Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. And now, here is the finale of Cross Checked!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Banners by me!

Previous: Chapter 24 ~ Proposal Interrupts

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 25 – My Day with the Cup 

Andy 

I love parades.  

The cheers and confetti and beers, its the best.  

I have Leia and Avery with me on the bus. I’m holding onto Avery, waving her little hand to the crowds. She’s giggling at the confetti floating around. “Look princess, at the people,” I said as Leia talked with Miranda and Stella.  We make it to the area with the stage in front of the arena and we file out.  I kiss Leia and Avery, leaving them with the rest of the WAGs.  I head in with Coach, the general manager and the owner.  

It is surreal to see so many people outside of the arena. Its like the entire city is in one place.  The GM points to me and get back into the moment.  I take up the mic. 

“Boston!” The cheers are deafening. “We brought the cup back home!” More cheers as I smile big. “I can’t say thank you more to the owners for giving us the tools to work, the coaches who made the big decisions and my teammates, my brothers, who told me I could lead.  I have never been prouder to captain this team.  We had a lot of ups and downs but no one person could do it.  It took all of us to get here and I wouldn’t want to win this with anyone else.”  

“I want to thank the families. Our partners, our parents, our children, who were patient with us, missing us, helping us with everything this season. We could not have played our best if we didn’t know that our homes were good. I especially want to thank my girlfriend Leia and my daughter Avery for being my home, my safe space, my everything.”  

“Boys, thank you for having my back this year. I appreciate every single one of you.  Let’s do this again next years. Go Bruins!” 

As I step away from the mic, I look over and see Leia with tears coming down her face.  I mouth to her “I love you.” She mimics me and I know that this summer will be the best one yet.  

Tradition states that every person on the winning team gets one full day with the Stanley Cup. They can do whatever they want for one day.  Drinking beer out of it, eating cereal. I know of one guy who used it as the center piece at their wedding.  Another got his kid blessed with it.  

I know exactly what I want to do.  

As captain, I get the honor of the first day with it.  At nine A.M., there is a knock at the door. I open it to see Philip Pritcher on my front step.  

Now, I’ve seen this man before.  

I’ve felt the cup before.  

Hell, I carried it around at the end of the game and during the parade.  

But... 

It's here.  

At my house.  

For me to do (almost) anything I want to do with it.  

“Hi Mr. Pritchard.” I stick out my hand to the legendary keeper of the cup. His name may not be known but his presence is revered. To see the cup is to know this man.  

He chuckles as he takes my hand. “Call me Phil, Andy. May we come in?” He waves to the box he has as well as his colleague.  

“Yes, of course, sorry, just fanboying a bit.”  I rub the back of my neck in embarrassment as I hold the door open.  Leia walks down the stairs with Avery on her hip.  

Avery screeches when she sees the new people in her house.  She waves a slobby fist while gripping Leia’s shirt. Phil smiles.  “Well, hello, little one.” Avery smiles and tries to grab at his nose.  

“Ava, no,” Leia admonished gently, pulling her daughter’s hand away. “Sorry,” she says to Phil.  

“I have grandchildren, I understand.”  He cups Avery’s little cheek. “Let me get daddy’s trophy all set up for you.”  

Watching the Stanley Cup be set up on our coffee table is something I never thought I would get to experience.  Especially with my girls here.  

“Ok, so I’ll be around,” Phil starts,” just to make sure nothing bad happens to it. Are you going to have friends or family here?” 

“Yeah, her brother and our best friends are coming by," I reply. "We are going to get some pictures with our daughter in the cup outside.”  

“Very nice. OK, let me know if you need any help with it.”  

After Phil went back to his car, Leia and I stared at it. “I can’t believe this is real,” she whispers.  

“Me either, love.” I wrap my arm around her. “Want me to get the garden ready for the photos?” 

“Yes please.  I need to change this one,” she said.  I tickled Avery’s little belly, and she squeals. I kiss both their heads and head out back.  

Luke is waiting for already, having arrived before the cup so Leia wouldn’t see. “Is everyone here?” 

He nods. “They are all at your neighbor Steve’s house.  Weird guy.”  

“I know but he’s awesome.  Always vigilant. Gets that from his days in the army.” I set up the blanket on the ground in front of the bed of flowers.  

“You got the ring?” Luke looks at me with concern.  

“Yep, got it from Linus when I went for my “run” this morning.” I show it to him as I hear Leia calling my name from inside.  “Now go and hide.” I straighten up and head to set up the camera tripod and Leia comes out with Avery in a black and yellow outfit.   Her black onesie says, “My daddy won the cup!” in yellow and a black and yellow tulle skirt. “Oh my goodness Princess, you look so cute,” I tell Avery, taking her in my arms. I swing her up as she giggles.  

“Andy, she is going to throw up on you first you don’t stop,” Leia warns me.  I bring Avery down and she snuggles into my neck. God, I love this feeling.  Her little breaths and soft noises against my neck reminds me of how much I would do anything for this little girl.  Leia puts a blanket in the cup so its soft for Avery to sit in,  

“Come on Princess.” I walk her over and plop her into the cup.  Her little hands grab at the cool metal and her little face is confused at the sensation. I get back to camera and snap a few before calling her name. “Avery! Princess look at daddy!” She turns at the sound of my voice and gives me a gummy smile. She waves her hand a bit. “Leia, get in there with your princess.”  

Leia comes over and Avery screeches when she sees her mama. I take a few as Leia talks to Avery.  “Ok ladies, look at daddy.”  Leia points to me and Avery looks again.  I’m quick to take pictures because I know I only have a small window. “Ok, I’m going to turn on the timer.”  I run over and take a seat on the other side of Avery and the cup and listen for the snap of the camera.  

I get up and look at it.  “Ok, one more.”  I discreetly change the mode to video and run over.  

“Ok, one, two, three...” 

And nothing.  

“Andy, I don’t think it worked,” Leia said through her teeth as she continued to smile.  

“Dammit, ok hang on.”  

I went back and then pretended to reset it. I went to sit down but I settle on one knee. “Ok, one two three...” silence.  

“Andy, I don’t think...” Leia stands and turns to me and gasp.  

Probably because I am on one knee next to her, holding a ring.  

“My queen, my light, my hope, my love. We’ve known each other for over 20 years and there isn’t a day that goes by that I regret being your friend. But if the last year has taught me anything, it's that I’m thankful that you chose me to be your partner, your knight, your strength. Your love cross-checked me and I haven’t been the same man since. You are such a wonderful mother to our princess. I can’t wait to what her grow with your love guiding her.  And I really want to be a part of that.  So, Leighton Rose Andrews, will you make me the luckiest man in the world and marry me?” 

“Andy,” she cries, “yes, of course, yes!” She leans down, cupping my face and kissing me hard. She finally pulls back when Avery coos and I’m able to stand.  I slide the ring on her finger. “Look at that, a perfect fit.”  

“Oh my god, Andy.” She leans to me, and I wrap my arms around her.  

“I love you so much, my queen.” She lifts her head, and I lean down to kiss her again. Suddenly, poppers are heard, and confetti and ribbons are raining down on us. Avery yells her objections to the noise, and I pick her up.   

Luke goes right to his sister. The whisper to each other before he presses a kiss to her forehead.  He then walks to me. “You were always the one,” he says simply.  

“Yeah, I think so.” I give him a cocky smile.  

He huffs a laugh. “Good luck with her. You’re nuts to marry my sister. Oof.” He gets smacked across the head by Miranda. “Babe!” He whines.  He followers her as she walks away, and Leia come back to side.  

“Happy?” I ask.  

“So very happy, love.” We are looking at each other when Jeremy yells, “hold it!” He snaps a picture.  

Just our little family.  

Four years later 

Leia 

“Andy! Avery! Breakfast!”  

I flip the waffle maker to slide another one out and add batter for more as my gang walks in.  

“Morning, honey,” Andy greets me with kiss that gets interrupted with tiny hands pushing Andy face away from mine. I look at our son, Danny, on his hip and he reach for me.  

“Mama!” My little two-year-old nuzzles into my shoulder, having just woken up.  

“He still hates me,” Andy pouts.  

“No, he doesn’t. He just not used to you. You’ve been on the road a lot lately. He’ll get used to you now that the season is over.”  

Andy grumbles. He hates that I mentioned the end of the season. Probably because they lost in the semi-finals this year. Not his fault but you can’t argue with a stubborn man. He kisses my head and catches Avery when she launches herself from the bottom step, “Hey princess!” 

“Daddy, can we go to the park today? Uncle Jeremy and Uncle Luke said we could go.”  

Andy sighs but keeps his smile.  “Sure pumpkin, we can do. But after breakfast.”  

“Ok Daddy.”  Avery gets into her booster seat at the table, and I place her plate in front of her.  I put Danny in his highchair and put his plate of waffle and banana in front of him.  

I head back into the kitchen to pull our waffles and Andy wraps his arms around me from behind. “I’ve missed you, my queen.” 

I lean into him and he places soft kisses on my neck. “Hmm... I’ve missed you too.  Good thing I asked Luke to take the kids for a little today.” 

“Oh yeah, and why’s that, Mrs. Barber?” Andy smirks against my neck.  

“Because I need to give my king a proper welcome home, Mr. Barber.” I spin in his arms and wrap my arms around his neck. “I love you, Andy.”  

“I love you more, Leia.” 

The End 

@patzammit @texmexdarling @slutforchrisjamalevans @firephotogrl74 @tinkerbelle67 @before-we-get-started @bunnyforhim @alexakeyloveloki @sunnyhummingbee @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @peaceinourtime82 @saucy-sassy-sparkly @kmc1989 @kandis-mom @lokislady82

[tightjeansjavi]

Endings Create New Beginnings

Burning in a Hopeless Dream | The Prologue: Part 2 (final part)

(Joel Miller x f!reader)

A/N: I genuinely feel like this might be the most complicated piece I have written in the sense that I went out of my comfort zone a little bit. Rather focusing on dialogue, I used a lot of descriptions of what the reader is going through, what she is mourning and what Joel is feeling as she goes through this. To be completely honest with you? This is beautiful. It’s tragic in the sense that these two people have no idea just how meaningful they will soon be to one another. I feel like I have done them a justice by writing their true beginning. There are dark themes throughout this piece so please tread carefully. Please read part 1 before this piece and while this is Joel and Gwen’s story, I have written it as a readers perspective. There are no physical descriptions of the reader.

Thank you for reading ♡

~word count: 5.1k~

Summary: after losing your lover, and friends of 5 years, you find yourself running straight into Joel Miller, and his partner, Tess Servopoulos. You don't know it then, but your life is about to drastically change forever.

Warnings: dark themes, depression, mourning, suicidal thoughts, guilt of one’s death, feelings of being trapped, isolation, dark thoughts in both the reader and Joel’s mind, hinting at soulmates without directly stating it, stubbornness, banter, empathy, jealously, secret pining, feelings of denial, mistrust, anxiety, brief depiction of a knife wound, stitches, alcohol consumption, confusing thoughts, fear of the unknown, no use of y/n, no physical descriptions of the reader, (+18) minors dni!

Songs Used:

“I Wonder” by Shawn Mendes

“The Alcott” by The National and Taylor Swift

“Lift Me Up” by Rihanna

“The View Between Villages” by Noah Kahan

“Everything Has Changed” by Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran

“My Cell” by the Lumineers

“Second Chances” by Gregory Alan Isakov

“Dear Patience” by Niall Horan

“After the Storm” by Mumford & Sons

You quickly came to the realization that Joel and Tess’s ‘empathy’ only stretched so far. You weren’t even sure if empathy was the right word to use, especially when it came to Tess. She had no issues showing her glaringly obvious distaste towards you. You really couldn’t blame her, simply for the fact that only a mere few hours ago, you had thrown your knife at Joel’s face. If you were in her shoes, you would have felt the same way that she did.

Joel and Tess didn’t take you to the QZ right away. It created a rather awkward, and tense situation given the circumstances. Your mind played tricks on you, and made you believe that maybe the pair had changed their mind. Maybe they were going to kill you after all. Joel could smell the stench of your fear from a mile away as he slowed his heavy footsteps down.

“Easy.” He spoke softly to you. “We have to wait for nightfall before we can sneak you in. There’s a set curfew that starts at 6pm, till 6a.m. Tess and I are always breakin’ the rules, and this ain’t our first rodeo. FEDRA only patrols specific blocks at a time. Our apartment isn’t far from the main entrance. So, once it’s late enough, we’ll sneak you in through the tunnel system. You won’t have to worry about runnin’ into any QZ residents either. If we do happen to be caught by FEDRA, you run, and you don’t don’t look back. Do I make myself clear?” His back was resting along a nearby tree, arms crossed over his chest. His tone may have been soft, but you averted making eye contact with him regardless.

“How long have you and Tess lived in the QZ?” you scratched the outside of your arm absentmindedly. The rain had since long passed, but your clothes were entirely soaked through. Joel could see your body trembling, shivering from where he was leaned up against the tree.

“A while. I’ll be honest, ain’t no one really keeps track of how many days, months, years have gone by. They’ve all blended together for me at this point.” He gave a small shrug of his shoulders before he gently pushed himself off the tree, taking a few steps towards you. “Hey, are you cold? Would you like my jacket?”

You took a hesitant step back when he approached you and Tess scoffed at your inability to recognize that Joel wasn’t going to kill you. He wasn’t going to harm you. She turned her nose up at the fact that you were still acting like a frightened cornered animal.

“No thank you. I’m fine. Please..don’t come any closer to me.” You whispered.

Joel let out a visible sigh as he shrugged his thick layered jacket off of his body. “You’re gonna catch a nasty fuckin’ cold shiverin’ like that. Take the jacket.” He firmly demanded as he held the coat in his outstretched hand towards you. “I won’t come any close to you, but take the damn jacket.”

You knew he was right and despite wanting to show a hint of stubbornness, and to prove that your brain hadn’t entirely been fried by trauma, you reached for his coat, grasping the material between your fingers. You briefly made eye contact with him as you slipped your arms through the sleeves. The material was warm, warmer than you had expected. The outside layer of fabric had a residual scent of whiskey, pine, and woodsmoke. A wave of nostalgia washed over you, and Joel could see the emotions swirling through your pupils, as if they were trying to tell him a story; mapped out delicately in your irises.

“Thank you.” Your tone was barely above a whisper.

“Don’t mention it.” He returned to his prior position against the evergreen, arms crossed, stern gaze falling on you.

When the sun began to set, and the sky grew into an endless black pit, with only the pale moonlight to guide you, Joel and Tess guided you to their secret entrance into the QZ. A series of underground tunnels that ran under the QZ. Smuggling routes that Joel and Tess knew by heart.

The tunnels had you feeling claustrophobic in some moments. With only Joel’s flashlight as a light source, it was easy for your heart to start racing in your ribcage. Everytime you could hear the sound of Fedra trucks driving above ground, you squeezed your eyes shut tight. You had heard hushed whispers of what the quarantine zones were really like and more than ever now, you were missing your close knit camp with your once living friends.

Tess was the first to climb out of the hole in the ground, surveying the area while Joel offered you his hand and carefully hoisted you up. The streets were quiet sans the distant shouts of FEDRA soldiers. Joel was already nudging you up the street, gun drawn at his side. You were overwhelmed with the newfound stench of the quarantine zone. A mixture of filth, soot, and ash burned your nostrils and watered your eyes. The smell of rotting flesh nearly had you gagging, feeling lightheaded. Had they lied to you? Why did they bring you here? Was the quarantine zone just disguised as a raiders commune? Joel promised he wouldn’t hurt you, he promised–

“Hey, hey. Easy now darlin.’ You’re safe. That smell? It’s..not what you think it means.” He whispered under his breath as he gently grasped your arm. “When FEDRA brings in potential new residents, they’re put through a series of screenings and tests. If you’re found to be infected..they administer a shot that puts ya to sleep. Pretty much is like euthanizing a dog, or a cat. After they put you to sleep, your body is burned in a huge pit. It’s one of the more grueling jobs in the QZ, but it pays well with ration cards.”

Tess was already a few lengths ahead of you and Joel as she impatiently waited for the two of you. “Uh, any day now would be really fuckin’ nice.” She harshly whispered through the dead of night.

“C’mon. Our apartment is just a couple blocks east. We gotta move fast though, alright?”

All you could do was nod as Joel nudged you in front of him to keep moving forward. He couldn’t see your face, but he just had a feeling that his jacket was bringing you some form of comfort similar to the way you felt earlier. You were indeed using his jacket, and the nostalgic smell it gave off to pacify your apprehension. Whether or not Joel saw you turn your face into the collar, was the least concern on your mind.

Whiskey, pine, woodsmoke. Whiskey, pine, woodsmoke. Whiskey, pine, woodsmoke.

Home. Home. Home.

Joel and Tess’s apartment was not what you were expecting it to look like. There was an odd sense of comfort that the small living area particularly gave off. Perhaps it was the dense multi-colored quilt that rested along the weathered couch. The quilt itself looked well loved, and you imagined being wrapped in it must have felt as close as a warm hug did. She gave the best fucking hugs. She’s dead now. You left her for dead. Her body is rotting away in the earth, and the insects have made their home in her flesh and here you fucking stand. You hadn’t even heard Tess shuffling around in the tiny kitchen behind you. You hadn’t detected the sound of a liquor bottle being popped open. Nor the splash of amber into a chipped crystal glass. All you could hear were her distant screams, and your ears painfully ringing in your skull.

“..Darlin?’” There was a certain edge to Joel’s voice. A low rasp that was ridden with exhaustion, and his own terrors. He wanted to tread carefully when approaching you. He wasn’t sure why he gave a damn in the first place. Why did his last shred of humanity fall upon your trembling shoulders? He could see your lower lip wobble in the faint reflection of the grime covered windows. He knew your friends were dead. Raiders had murdered them and you ran. There was more to the story. There were always more pages left unturned. Whatever words were written on your parchment, he imagined they were painful. The kind of pain that had you clutching your fist to your chest, clawing at the skin to rip your heart from its strings. The kind of pain that wrecked silent sobs through your body. Where tears were un-shed because your body had spent them all. The kind of pain that dried your soul to dust, ash between your trembling fingers. The kind of pain that would have your arms squeezing your broken body so tightly, you couldn’t breathe. Rocking yourself as a mother would rock a crying child except, no one was there to hold you. No lullabies were to be sung, no soft touches were to be felt. No one was there to tell you that the world wasn’t always this cruel. That the sun would always shine another day, warm your skin, feed your soul. That you wouldn’t feel trapped, clawing desperately to reach the surface as the current drags you further and further into darkness. Waves crashing, tumbling, jostling what is left of your withered being until you give up. Phantom shadows, enveloping you in a never ending chill. So cold. So alone. So broken. So beaten.

Joel knew the inner turmoil that you were facing as if it was the back of his hand. It was in a sense. He too knew of indescribable pain not that long ago. When his own soul was turned to dust between his fingers. When her body went cold in his arms as he clutched her to his chest. When he felt like breathing was the hardest thing to do. When his own tears were spent, deep salty caverns laid their claim on his cheekbones that used to ache from joyous laughter and smiling too hard. He knew of the pain you presently endured all too well.

His hand gently clasped over your shoulder, squeezing the worn fabric that encased your skin in warmth. “C’mon. I’ll uh–I'll show you to your room, okay?”

You shuddered from his touch, feeling your senses being knocked back into you like a wrecking ball turning concrete to rubble. You pulled away from his touch, caving in on yourself.

You felt his hand retract and fall to his side. He let out a deep sigh as he made brief eye contact with his partner that wasted no time on giving him the “I told you so” look before she downed her glass of whiskey in one harsh gulp, slamming the glass down on the counter with a crashing thud.

The sudden sound sent your body jolting as you followed Joel’s heavy footsteps down the narrow hallway. He pushed the door at the end of the hall open, standing off to the side. “It ain’t much, but you got a bed to sleep on and a decent blanket to keep warm. I’ll have to convince Tess to lend you some of her clothes. I imagine you ain’t got much in that bag of yours. Anyway, you should get some rest. You’re safe now.” His arms were crossed over his chest as he leaned against the peeling wallpaper.

“Thank you.” Was all you could muster out as you stepped into your new living space. Joel was right. It wasn't much, but it was more than you had in years.

“You’re welcome.” He softly pulled the door shut to give you the privacy that you didn’t realize you were desperately seeking. You listened to the heavy creaks of the floorboards beneath his boots disappear. You stood there for what felt like hours before you slowly sunk down onto the old mattress. You didn’t move. You didn’t cry. You didn’t sleep. You sat there all night long staring into the void as your mind ran excruciating circles. Head rocking like a pendulum with no end in sight. Eyes glazed, lifeless, dull, ghostly. As if all the wondrous color had been sucked from your soul. The world through your eyes now was dark, dismal, tenebrous. A swirling black pit oozing with sorrow. Dripping in overflowing guilt. Like toxic sludge bubbling and bursting through the cracked crevices in the fragments of your vanquished heart.

It's all my fault.

I did this.

I caused this.

She’s dead.

They’re dead.

Here I am, surrounded by darkness in an undeserved warm bed.

Wishing I was dead too.

Two broken heartstrings, bleeding the sad sad blues. Separated by thin walls, peeling wallpaper, creaky floorboards. Two shattered souls; unbeknownst on how devoted they would soon grow for one another. Silent sobs, nightmares, darkness consumed. Struggled breaths, dealt the same cards; fortunes foretold, they have met before.

You mourned the loss of your lover and friends for what felt like endless years. In reality, it was two weeks of you isolating yourself in your room. Two weeks of numbing yourself to the pain where all that was left was the outer shell of who you used to be. Where was she now? You had yourself convinced that part of your soul died along with the ones that you loved. Maybe it had, and maybe that part of you was never going to reach the surface again.

You soon learned that Joel Miller was a persistent man. He respected your privacy, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t go out of his way to make sure that you hadn’t offed yourself in those two long weeks. He would leave food outside your door in hopes that you wouldn’t let yourself wither away entirely. Each morning, he’d find the wrapped jerky, and long since stale biscuits untouched.

On the nights where Joel was unable to relax into sleep, he’d quietly, and carefully untangle his limbs from Tess’s before leaving their shared room. He’d find himself seated against your door, back aching at the uncomfortable angle he was in. For whatever reason he was feeling desperate to know anything, and everything he could about you. Your name, where you were from, did the sorrows and grief of your past haunt your dreamless nights just as his did?

“Can you just fuckin’ let me know you’re alive behind this door? ‘Cus I’m sitting here with an achy back for whatever goddamn reason so the least you can do is let me know you’re alive. Would greatly appreciate it.”

He was met with no answer from the other side of the door.

“Can you tell me your name, darlin?’” You heard his whisper through the thin door that separated him from you. Maybe he needed to take a softer approach, despite the fact that Joel Miller was anything but soft.

“I can’t tell you my name.” You spoke soullessly through the impending darkness that surrounded you.

So you weren’t dead behind the door, thank god. He thought to himself.

“Why can’t you tell me your name?” He pressed you further.

A pregnant pause, seconds ticking by as he awaited your answer. The floorboards creaked beneath your feet as you slowly rose from the crumpled sheets, and padded quietly to the door. You sunk down, back against the thin wood right where he was resting on the other side.

“Because everything that’s mine is a landmine Joel. Every single fucking person that knows my name is dead. Every. Single. One. They’re all dead. You’re better off not knowing my name or who I am, or where I came from. Knowing someone’s name is personal. It becomes a personal interaction and I don’t want that to happen. I don’t want anything to do with that.” You pulled your knees up to your chest, resting your chin against them with a heavy sigh.

“Now listen, I ain’t into all that superstitious crap. So you’re tellin’ me that you think everyone who knows your name is like fuckin’ doomed or somethin?’ That’s the most ridiculous thing I have ever fuckin’ heard darlin.’” I ain’t gonna die if you tell me your name.” He fought the urge to scoff but you could feel his demeanor through the door.

“Well, fine. What about you? What’s your story?..Joel…?” You paused, realizing you only knew his first name.

“Miller. Last name is Miller, and wouldn’t ya like to know, darlin.’” He was smirking to himself as he crossed his arms over his chest taking in a deep inhale before exhaling.

“Well, yeah. That’s why I asked.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m not tellin’ you anythin’ ‘bout myself till you tell me your name.” He stated as a-matter-of-factly.

“Oh? Well, guess that just means you’re gonna be sitting there for an awful long fucking time, Joel Miller from Texas.”

“How the hell did you know I was from Texas? Is my accent really that thick?” His eyes were open now as he gently rested the back of his head against the door.

“Yeah. It’s a pretty obvious southern accent. Hard to miss it.”

“Fair enough. How about this, can you give me the first letter of your name?” He was still on the topic of your name? For fuck sakes, did this man ever give up?

“No.” Was your immediate response.

“C’mon. Just the first letter, and then I promise I won’t ask ya again. Deal?”

You rubbed your fingers against your temples taking a deep breath when you realized that Joel was absolutely persistent in the most insufferable way possible. You mumbled out the first letter of your name begrudgingly.

“Was that so hard to tell me?”

“Yeah, it was. Now can you please fucking drop it? I don’t want to tell you my name, and I’d really would just appreciate the fact if you would just fucking accept that, alright? Thanks.”

Joel could sense your frustration through the door as his nails picked at the skin around his cuticles till they would tear and bleed. The light sting of his skin being split open was one that was familiar and oddly soothing. “Alright, darlin.’ I won’t pry any further. You have my word.”

A few minutes of silence had passed between the two of you. The floorboards creaked beneath his weight as he turned his body, resting his cheek along the splintered wood with a heavy sigh. It was frustrating to him that he couldn’t quite figure out why he was so immediately drawn to you. That he was causing his back to ache even more and for what? Just so he knew that you were alive? Why the hell did he care so much?

This became a routine for the two of you on the nights that sleep would not come. Sometimes you’d sit in complete silence and other times Joel would press for you to talk about anything. He wanted to get to know you, in whatever way you would allow him too. It was a challenging task and you proved to be tougher than he thought.

You never wanted to admit it, but Joel Miller wasn’t the most awful company to have in the odd hours of the morning.

It took just about a month for you to find your footing. Your body physically could not handle mourning what was no longer physically there in your grasp. Your brain was constantly in survival mode. Even now when you clearly were safer than you had ever been before, your brain hardly let you rest. Joel was not lying when he said that the most grueling jobs in the QZ paid handsomely in ration cards. You took every shitty job you could get your hands on. It was a good distraction from the constant thoughts racing through your mind. It was tricky, but somehow you had avoided working any jobs with your new “roommates.”

Despite your efforts to remain neutral with Tess, you still managed to evoke the woman in showing a deep distaste for you. She was far more intimidating than Joel was. It was obvious who was the brains of their operation, but you were also aware that Tess packed a lethal bite. It was only a short time ago that she threatened to gouge your eyes from your skull.

Some weeks you wouldn’t see Joel or Tess for days at a time. Not that it really bothered you because having the apartment to yourself had its perks. The biggest one being you didn’t feel like you had daggers trained on the back of your head. The downfall was that you were alone with your thoughts..and they weren’t going away.

“You enjoyin’ those late night chats with our new house guest?” Tess bitterly asked as Joel was patching up her arm alongside a crumbling alley outside the QZ. They had just traded a couple guns for some pills when 2 outsiders ambushed. Joel of course made both thugs regret that they had ever been born, but Tess had a fairly large gash along her forearm from a switchblade. Luckily for her it wasn’t muscle deep, but she’d still need stitches.

“What’re talkin’ about Tess?” Joel met her burning gaze as he dabbed away the blood. There was a stray sweaty curl blurring his vision and he paused his movements when she gently brushed it away.

“You don’t know what I’m talkin’ about? Bullshit, Joel. The walls are paper fuckin’ thin. Look, don’t you think she’s more than capable of bein’ off on her own? I agreed that we not kill her, but for fuck sakes. I don’t like the fact that she’s livin’ with us.” Tess didn’t want to admit outloud, but the main reason for her distaste towards you was because she viewed you as a threat. To what exactly? Well, it wouldn’t take a rocket science to figure out that Tess Servopolous was finding herself growing jealous anytime Joel diverted his attention from her, onto you. She knew it was silly, and a little embarrassing at the core, but Joel was hers. She was his, and she’d be damned if anyone got between that.

“Do’ya hear yourself right now? Look, you wanna be mad at me because I just wanted to make sure she didn’t off herself during those two weeks? Fine. Go ahead and be upset with me. I know it ain’t like me to take in strays and bring ‘em home. You and I both know that if we left her in those woods, she would have died. Hell, if Tommy were here? He probably would have killed her as soon as she threw her knife at my face. Do ya remember when he and I found you? Alone, and afraid? It wasn’t that fuckin’ long ago that you were a shell of yourself too, Tess. Tommy and I took ya in. We could have killed you, we could have left you for dead but we didn’t. Not long after you told me what happened to your husband and son. You told me about your loss, and the sacrifices you made to stay alive. I get it, you don’t like her for your own reasons, but you ain’t all that different from each other.” He concluded as he finished stitching up her wound, wrapping it firmly in some cloth before he grasped her hand and helped her up from the rocky ground.

“Fine. All i’m gonna say is that she’s gotta start pullin’ her own weight ‘round here too. You’re the one who said she might be useful to us. So, lets get some good use out of her. Today was a perfect example as to why this operation ran much smoother with three people.”

“Don’t worry. She’ll be goin’ on runs with us soon enough.” Joel zipped up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder along with his rifle. “Let's go home.”

It was springtime now. The air was warmer, there were birds outside the window that could be heard. The sun shone brighter. Despite all of this, you still felt trapped. Trapped in this apartment, trapped in your thoughts, trapped in a droning routine that was draining you day by day. You were desperate to get out. To let your lungs breathe the fresh forest air once more. Your wish was manifesting faster than you thought it would. Joel and Tess were meeting up with their two unlikely friends, Bill and Frank. Tess was against the idea at first, but you learned that Joel could be incredibly convincing when he wanted to be. That’s how you ended up outside the QZ walls after months. Joel would never say it outloud but he wanted to give you a taste of normalcy after everything you had been through. He wasn’t expecting you to thank him or anything. You owed him your life, this was true. However, he’d never ask you to repay him. He only hoped that perhaps you and him could become friends. If friends was even the right word for the journey you and him would find yourselves enduring together.

Frank adored you the moment he laid eyes on you. You believed that people had many different soulmates in their lifetime. Frank had to be your platonic soulmate in every sense. The older man was like a breath of fresh air in your lungs. His hugs reminded you of home, and his eyes were welcoming and kind. He doted you as his ��little bird” when you explained why you couldn’t tell him your name. Soon enough you were being whisked into his world of art, music, books, and the simple pleasures in life that you weren’t sure if you’d ever have the privilege of experiencing again.

He showed childlike excitement when you gushed over his artistic abilities. He had all different sizes of canvases in his art room. Many of which were paintings of his polar opposite lover. He also loved to paint nature, flowers, and his favorite plants. The colors were warm, vibrant, and full of life.

“One day I'll paint a portrait of you in the wildflowers out back, how does that sound to you little bird?” His warm arm was wrapped loosely around your shoulder, a warm smile gracing his gentle features.

You were almost certain that you had met Frank in a past life. You felt as if you had known this man forever, and now you were catching up over coffee, and spilling secrets of your shared pasts. You adored him just as much as he adored you. “Wait, there’s wildflowers out back? A whole field of them?” You looked up at the older man with a bright full of life smile. You couldn’t remember the last time you had smiled this hard.

“Yes! An entire field of them. They’re all in full bloom. Would you like me to show you?” He offered you his elbow like the true gentleman he was.

You nodded enthusiastically, grasping his elbow gently as he led you out into the backyard. Your eyes watered when you gazed upon an entire field of different species of wildflowers that sprouted up between the tall thick wild grasses. Asters were your favorite, as Frank came to learn. They were all beautiful of course. Butterflies danced around your head like a fluttering halo. Their delicate wings were different hues of purple as you carefully plucked the flowers into a homemade bouquet.

Joel had been watching from afar. His arms were crossed over his chest, broad muscles bulging through the worn fabric of his flannel. He was half paying attention to the conversation Tess and Bill were having as he was too distracted by you. There was something so surreal to him, seeing you relaxed, and in your element. Could flowers truly bring one person that much pure joy? What was so special about these particular flowers? Did they remind you of home? Were they your favorite? Or did you simply just think they were pretty? Joel wondered as his jaw clenched tightly. Why were you able to find happiness in the littlest of things, and yet he couldn’t. He wondered what it would be like to see the world through your eyes at that moment. A world full of color and life. A world that wasn’t black and white.

Joel Miller wondered, and it terrified him.

He wondered if he was always being real. He wondered if he always spoke his truth, or does he filter how he feels? He wonders why he is so afraid of saying something wrong, when he never claimed to be a saint. He wondered why on the loneliest nights when he would cry into his hands, it conditioned him to feel like he was less than a man.

He wondered—

And then you met his gaze. Eyes sparkling under the warm rays of the sun. A soft smile gracing your lips. A smile different from the one you portrayed around Frank. No, this was a smile that would make any man weak in the knees. A smile that would send a man to his early grave if he never got the privilege to see it again. A smile that would now rot Joel Miller's brain to mush for the rest of the day. A smile that he felt like only he was supposed to see. A smile that had him wonder if one day you’d be by his side and promise him that the world would end up alright.

Your smile hit him like a freight train colliding with his body over, and over again.

It was true, Joel could not stop thinking of the way you smiled at him earlier in the day. He thought about it at the dinner table where he was sitting across from you. He thought about it when he found you and Frank seated side by side at the piano, giggling like two drunk fools after a few too many glasses of wine. Heads leaning against one another like old friends.

He thought about it during the odd hours of the night while Tess was asleep at his side. He stared up at the ceiling, picturing what it would possibly be like to be loved by you. Your smile was etched into his brain like a fucking tattoo. He blinked, and it wouldn’t go away. His thoughts were flooded with you.

darlin’, if my memories of you were ever stolen from my mind, my only hope is that you’d forever haunt my dreams, as someone I used to know; who is now a phantom of my past unknown.

Fin

Tag List: @chaotic-mystery @peterhollandkait @yuly @soft-cryptids @dinsdjrn @myrealmofchaos @itskenziebb @lovers-liability @korynnekorynne @ems-alexandra @kirsteng42 @casssiopeia @novemberrain-writes @goodwithcheese @loquaciousferret @sarahhxx03 @777-wonders @bonglorddaryl @mirasantidotes @luvrking @finnsbubblegum @last-girl @pedrostories @yazsos @pedgeitopascal @wildemaven @sourccream @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @amanitacowboy @morning-star-joy

[red-ropes-of-avalon]

All I Wanted Was to Be Loved For Myself

Chapter 1- Angel of Music

Phantom of the Opera! Nanami x Christine!Reader

Author Notes: Nanami and Reader are around the same age, not the weird age gap in the actual Phantom of the Opera. 

The auction in the abandoned opera house was solemn. The few bids caused little noise, while the most common noise was coughs from the settled dust. “Lot 665 then ladies and gentlemen.” A collector’s music box, it piqued Gojo’s interest at that moment. “A paper mache music box, in the shape of a barrel organ. Found in the catacombs of the opera house. In perfect working order.” The announcer had wound up the box letting it play its eerily beautiful song. “Shall we begin at 20?” The room had not a single bid, just a small cough. “Fine then fifteen?” The announcer said with an exaggerated sigh. Gojo raised his number for the bid. While 2 others bid against him, Gojo eventually won. “A fine piece Vicomte Gojo. Thank you, sir.” As Gojo looked over the music box his heart was filled with longing, a faint memory of the girl who had told him all about that very music box. “Lot 666- the broken chandelier. Now some of you may recall the strange affairs with the supposed ‘Phantom of the Opera’ the ghost of this very opera house. It was never known if this monster truly existed but this is the chandelier supposedly involved in that famous disaster. We have worked hard to restore it and add in new wiring for electrical lights. Perhaps we can shed some light and frighten out those ghosts from so many years ago.”

You were stood on the side with your fellow dancers dressed in flowy outfits for this scene of Hannibal. When Mei Mei hit the highest note of Rome, you all flowed out dancing in synch and singing beautifully. Shoko was on one side of you, a new girl on the other side. The scene was cut abruptly when Naoya the male lead sang Rome incorrectly, to which Gakujani the conductor stopped to yell. “No, no, no! You must enunciate Rome.” As Naoya and Gakujani argued Shoko simply rolled her eyes, rehearsal was long enough without Naoya being unable to pronounce Rome correctly. Mei Mei was the most annoyed and having him hold her hand for his higher notes, her face spoke entirely to her displeasure with Naoya. However, you had no time to watch her face as the ballet portion followed immediately and you were not getting yelled at by Yaga for being distracted. Following the big ballet, the pinnacle of the act was reached as the ensemble behind moved forward to begin singing. Of course, another fluke with Naoya occurred as the sword got stuck. You swore you heard him mumble something about cheap props and by the look on Shoko’s face, she did too. “Maybe if we didn’t have to pay you and Mei Mei an arm and a leg each we could have better props,” Shoko snarked.

“We are running that again from the top.” Gajukanji shooed everyone from their spots. You crossed the stage amongst the dancers though not without catching a nasty side-eye from Mei Mei simply from crossing her path. Still, it was better than passing Naoya who would push you and then delight in mocking you for falling.

“As you can see gentlemen our rehearsals for this season’s production, Hannibal are well underway,” Ijichi spoke as he led 2 men through the theater and to the stage. Trying to gather the cast’s attention was always hard for Ijichi. Yaga instead banged his foot, gathering the attention and causing silence for Ijichi. “I’m sure all of you have heard rumors that I’m retiring. I can put the rumors to rest today, I am in fact retiring.” Ijichi was always so timid despite being the owner of the opera house. “But these are the new owners, meet Monsieur Sukuna, and Monsieur Uraume.” The two men side by side couldn’t be more different. One looked like a bull of a man, and the other looked delicate enough he could be one of the dancers with you. “Monsieurs this is our prima donna Mei Mei. We’ve had the pleasure of having her as our leading soprano for 12 seasons now.” Mei Mei seemed to preen under the attention.

“I've heard you have an amazing voice, Miss Mei Mei. I know there is a wonderful aria in this production. Would you care to sing for us?”

“I don’t do any excess work for free Monsieurs.”

Sukuna barked a laugh motioning for Uraume to give the women some money to incentivize her.

“Ah, now Gakuganji would you do me the honors.”

“Is 2 bars sufficient Miss Mei Mei?” To which the woman gave a dismissive handwave. As the woman was singing she was clearly engaging the 2, strutting her stuff and proving just why she was the leading soprano for so long. As she reached the end, the backdrops for the other scenes fell from the rafters. It cut Mei Mei short, obviously startling the woman. Among the cast whispers of the phantom’s doing were spreading.

“Where is that stagehand? Haruta why would you drop the backdrops?’ Ijichi was clearly nervous, more than he usually was.

“I didn’t, I wasn’t even up there sir. If there was someone it would have to be a ghost.” The blonde’s response just spurred more phantom murmurings.

“It’s an accident. Things happen they probably weren’t tied well enough,” Sukuna dismissed.

“These aren’t just accidents! This has been my life for the last 3 years! I should not have to worry about my life whenever I rehearse. No amount of money makes this worth enduring! I am leaving, either sort that out or I will be finding a new contract.” Following her little tirade Mei Mei stormed out. Naoya sneered at the 2 men before storming out behind the woman.

“Sirs a note for you was found in the rafters,” Yaga handed the men an envelope with an ornate wax seal.

Dear New Owners of My Opera House,

I welcome you to my opera. I am sure Monsieur Ijichi has established with you the rules of how this opera house works I shall give you them in writing. You are to leave Box 7 empty for me and my salary is to be paid on time. I will not tolerate it being late. I hope the best for you in my opera house and look forward to our collaboration.

Best,

Opera Ghost

“A salary?” Sukuna almost wanted to laugh, a phantom demanded a salary.

“Ijichi used to pay him 20,000 a month, though with the Vicomte sponsoring you.”

“We can return to the matter of a ghost’s salary later. Who is the understudy for Mei Mei?” Uraume tried to soothe the situation by diverting.

“There is no understudy for Mei Mei.” Gakuganji balked at the insinuation.

Seeing no volunteers Shoko dragged you forward, “she can do it. She’s been taking lessons.”

“This little dancer girl? Tell me your name girl.” Sukuna intimidated you and Shoko wouldn’t let you disappear back into the cast.

“Y/N L/N.”

“L/N, tell me are you perhaps related to the famous cellist of the same name?” The way Sukuna’s voice was tinted with intrigue did you little comfort.

“Yes sir, he was my father.”

“Very well then, sing, show us if you are good enough.”

Very timidly you began to sing Think of Me, and while it seemed Uraume still held his doubts Sukuna was sold, despite your nervousness. Meeting Yaga’s eyes with his firm glare you began to open up more. Gaining a false confidence simply to avoid Yaga yelling at you. It seemed that was what sold Uraume on your ability, that or Sukuna’s insistence.

The performance was sold out and while you were nervous you were also excited. All eyes would be on you for the first time ever. Having the heavier costume on was an odd feeling, the weight of the skirt and how restricted you were compared to the ballet costumes. Wringing your hands deeply and taking a deep breath, you exited your dressing room to wait in the wings for your cue. By the end the packed opera house was applauding your every move and every note.

After bowing you exited offstage where the ballerinas quickly encircled you giving you praise. They were gossiping though just as quick after, something about the new owners with another man in their box. “You did well Y/N. I’m sure he will be impressed,” Yaga said placing a hand on your shoulder. You guess you had zoned out listening to them chatter and Yaga had pushed through the group of girls. “As for the rest of you, that was a pitiful performance. We must rehearse now, your feet were too flat and not enough bend in your knees. Y/N go get your costume off there’s nothing for you to fix.”

Seeing as you didn’t need to rehearse with them anymore, which was odd to say the least, you began the walk back to the dressing room you were given. In the hall an eerily familiar voice echoed, “bravo, bravo, bravissimo.” You felt yourself go pale at the words walking faster to the room.

Sitting yourself down in the room you let out a sigh. Seconds later Shoko enters the door, obviously having ditched rehearsal. “You were amazing out there. Where did you learn to sing like that?” Shoko quickly sat herself beside you and took your hands in hers. “Oh dear your hands are so cold, and you look pale.”

“I’m fine really. I was taught by a mysterious Angel of Music.”

“Who’s the Angel of Music though?”

“My dad he said when he passed he would send to me an Angel of Music, so that I will always know I am loved.”

“That’s weird but whatever you say. Don’t worry I’ll get all the gossip from the ballerinas and we can keep making fun of the rest of the cast during rehearsals.” Shoko was rambling again, she probably missed you in the wings.

“So this is where you snuck off to Shoko. You are still a dancer and therefore you still need to rehearse.” Yaga stormed through, obviously annoyed that Shoko had disappeared. Shoko shuffled off unhappy to have to part without talking to her best friend more. “As for you, I have a letter.” Yaga handed you a pristine letter swiftly before disappearing after Shoko to watch the ballerinas.

[bramble-mouse]

The Faery Doctor

Chapter 1

Tags: G/t, gentle giant, timid tiny, fantasy setting, adventure Content warnings will be tagged appropriately for subsequent chapters. These may include death, gore and vore. They will include no sexual themes. Minors, please do not interact!

The cold north made a necessity of woolen garments- and thankfully, Trish Mctavish rarely traveled without hers. It was a handsome green plaid piece made by her father, a memento of the cold lands he’d grown up in. The Summer Court’s lands which her parents had built their own on made little need for such heavy garments; true to name, the weather was always sunny, always balmy and a far cry from the rest of Alba’s all-year-round grey skies and sheeting rain. As a child, the sun had been welcome, making ease of play and affording her parents reprieve from washing up a muddy child after a romp in the rain. As an adult, however, when her practice took her on the road, Trish had discovered the cold, misty splendor of a rainy day. 

She snuggled in close to the ram she shared the back of the wagon with, a round, woolie fellow the wagon driver had called Samson. He was a welcome companion at present, when the early autumn chill still clung to the dregs of the morning. Trish reached into her pocket and unfurled a bit of parchment. On it, was a hastily drawn map and the name of her destination: Dalrstead.

‘I was told you’d treat anyone.’

The tall, hooded woman spoke, the glow of her golden eyes pinning Trish to rug in her entryway. The strange woman dwarfed her utterly, being a good few heads taller than the tiny, birdlike faery doctor. She nodded to her guest silently, fiddled with the edges of her apron to keep calm.

The hooded woman’s shoulders had sagged in some relief. She flicked her wrist and a pen and paper appeared, which she used to start sketching.

‘You will find him here. Please, he…he needs a skilled hand. I’ll give you any reward you ask.’

Trish felt the weight of the hand drawn map, the urgency of the woman. Just who was her patient to be, she wondered? Faery doctors often treated primarily the Folk, but her mother had taught her how to treat near every type of non-human under the sun (and even those who favoured the moon). She’d helped a mother mermaid give birth to triplets. She’d soothed a naga’s chronic headache. She’d even fitted a goblin with a prosthetic leg. Trish’s patients were all sorts.

So why had this woman been especially secretive about the nature of this one? All she knew thus far about the fellow was that he was a mountain dwelling hermit and his name was Frio Frostfang. She didn’t even know the nature of his illness- especially vexing. Trish had brought a broad medical kit, as many different ingredients as her pack could feasibly carry. All others she would have to buy in Dalrstead, or forage in the surrounding woodlands. “Look just up ahead, lass.” The wagon driver said, starting Trish from her thoughts. He sucked on the end of his pipe.

“Dalrstead, the Sjev Mountains and the northern woods between ‘em.” Trish turned to glance over her shoulder and was rewarded with the sharp, snow capped peaks, the endless brushwork of ancient pine trees and the hodgepodge of buildings up the road crowned by chimney smoke. “Goes without sayin’, I reckon, but, seein’ as you’re no local, I’ll be the first to give you the warning.” The wagon driver said. “Steer well clear of the northern woods. Everythin’ that grows there is old and beyond our ken. Not to mention it’s the frost giant’s huntin’ grounds.” Trish’s throat bobbed. Frost giants. She could remember meeting one giant in her life, a hill giant with a twisted ankle that’d cried like a baby when her mother treated him. He’d been a big lump of a thing with the sensibilities of a child despite being an adult. He’d been so pleased with her mother’s work to heal him, he’d uprooted a tree to give her, like a clumsy bouquet of flowers. Her mother had laughed and thanked the hill giant, but bade him plant it again for her instead. “Tanner’s boy went missin’ last month when he decided he wanted reindeer hide and went huntin’ for it too far past where it’s safe. Damned fool boy.” He shook his head.

Trish frowned and turned back around, staring down at her boot clad feed as they swung with the motions of the wagon. “But…don’t the…the frost giants…” She trailed off. “Don’t come into Dalrstead, not for a good thirty winters now.” The driver interjected

“Raids were somethin’ terrible when I was a lad. Had to hide in cellars for hours, prayin’ the brutes wouldn’t sniff you out. Nothin’ on countin’ the dead and missin’ after, knowing just where they’d wound up. Or freezin’ while you try to rebuild enough to get through the night.” Trish chewed her lower lip. “And…and why did they stop?” The wagon driver took a long pull off his pipe and breathed out the fragrant, earthy smoke. “No one knows. Some say somethin’ worse is livin’ in those woods now, closer to the village. Others say it’s an old god come back to life that’s started protectin’ us again. Far as I’m concerned, I don’t give a rat’s ass which it is. Dalrstead’s peaceful and that’s what rightly counts.” Trish paid the wagon driver for his time and disembarked at the front gates to the town- though it was more a log arch than anything formal.

Many southerners viewed those who lived up north through one of two lenses: pity, for the poor land they inhabited or condescension, because of course they were all nothing but uneducated peasants. That was the mind of those in cities and larger towns, at any rate. Trish’s first experience with a northerner had come in the form of an adventurer named Gudrun who’d accompanied her orcish travelling companion to the Mctavish’s home for an injured eye. He’d walked away with a salve that would prevent complete blindness and Gudrun had grown fond of the doctor’s then young daughter. Trish and Gudrun still exchanged letters sometimes, when either of them were able. 

What Trish knew for certain about northerners was that they didn’t have time to give a damn about most niceties. They were intelligent, resourceful and hearty folks who took care of one another. They were a far cry from the simple, stupid folk others in cozier climes claimed them to be. The food culture of Dalrstead stood as testament to these qualities. While there wasn’t much that grew well in so cold a place with short springs and summers, folk had learned to transform every ingredient they could lay hands on into hearty, flavourful meals. The mead and whiskeys from this region were second to none, boasting deep, complex flavours built upon carefully cultivated ingredients. Trish blinked free from her far away thoughts and back into the town square, where her feet had mindlessly carried her. The late morning market was a bustling place, the hubbub audible all over Dalrstead. A trio of women with children hanging from their skirts swapped stories. A strong dwarven fellow washed a heavy blanket at the laundry pool, scrubbing dirt out along a washboard. A handsome fellow with dark curly hair and curiously rose coloured eyes caught Trish’s attention and he smiled, offering a friendly wave. She blushed and snapped her gaze back down, all but running in the direction of the town tavern, The Crooked Cat. 

The interior of the wooden structure smelled of pipe weed, a wood fire and yeasty bread still baking in the oven. Instantly, the chill began to depart from Trish’s extremities, and her thin, bird-like little body gravitated towards the comfortable heat. As she removed her gloves and walked towards the front counter, she heard a loud, incredulous snort. “Reward’s bloody good, that’s why.” A deep, gravelly voice insisted. Trish jumped at his tone, every muscle in her body tightening. She peered up through her glasses, the errant brown curls that fell into her eyes. 

There were four men at the counter, geared to the nines in all manner of weaponry, from halberds to claymores, and even a heavy crossbow that Trish would have no chance of ever lifting, let alone getting a shot off of. The man who stood at the head of the pack sported dark hair shot through with silver tugged back into a loose ponytail that trailed down his back. His skin was bitter pale, and a nasty set of scars made by a beast’s claws marred the left side of his face, depriving one eye of sight and drawing the corner of his mouth down in a permanent grimace. “Hunting giants is a fools errand, lad.” The barkeep replied firmly. He was a round fellow with a bushy, ginger beard and keen green eyes. He continued to polish a claw mug with a worn cloth. “I’ve other marks much less likely to bring a raid upon us.” The scarred man leaned forward over the counter top. “I didn’t take the folk of Dalrstead for cowards.” “We aren’t.” The barkeep narrowed his eyes “We ain’t fools either. Now step back, boy. There’s a young lady lookin’ for directions, I reckon.” The scarred man’s upper lip formed a snarl. He backed up, turned his attention onto Trish and sauntered slowly over to her. “That so?” He scoffed. He began to circle Trish, and the woman felt her knobbly knees knock together. She dared not look up now, keeping her attention firmly on the floorboards. She winced when she felt him tease the end of one of her braids, hold a moment and let it fall over her shoulder. “Then by all means, let’s not keep the little mouse. Lest she get lost and a cat decides she’s lunch.” Trish gripped her skirts tightly until her knuckles turned white. Her heart pounded in her ears. The scarred man chuckled, whistled to round up his boys and they all trudged over in front of the fireplace, thankfully far away from the bar. Trish felt like crying. Or throwing up. She wasn’t certain which one would arrive sooner when the barkeep’s voice startled her out of her panic. “Now now, lassie, take a good deep breath. Got somethin’ for your nerves.” Trish nodded mutely and claimed a barstool. A warm mug smelling of orange peel and allspice was set down in front of her. “Mulled wine. On the house, on account of the reception you received.” The barkeep said. Trish nodded and managed to get out a near inaudible, shaky ‘thank you’ before taking a first experimental sip. 

She winced at first from the heat but allowed the feeling to ground her. Adventurers of all sorts chattered away in the Crooked Cat. One trio of dwarves looked over a worn map much too large for any of them. A pair of snow elves talked over mugs of something warm- maybe the very same mulled wine Trish drank. A larger group of young adventurers laughed as they swapped stories of their latest exploits in vivid detail. Trish pointedly did not look for the scarred man and his lackeys. “If you’ll beg my pardon, lass…You don’t look much like an adventurer.” The barkeep observed. “What brings you in apart from a drink?” Trish held the mug with her thin fingers, savouring the warmth.

“I’m…I’m looking for someone.” She lowered her voice and leaned in. “A…A ‘Frio Frostfang’. I…I’ve been told to seek him out.” The barkeep paused, his gaze flitting quickly to the four men by the fireplace, silently drinking as they listened to their scarred boss talk. “Why?” The barkeep inquired. Trish pursed her lips together nervously. She reached into her coat pocket and produced the rolled up bit of parchment her mysterious client had given her. She slid it towards the barkeep. “I’m a…a faery doctor. And…a client gave me…gave me the name. And these directions.” The barkeep unfurled the map and scanned over the paper. He let out a little chuckle. “Trust that old worrywart to go about things the complicated way…” He muttered. The barkeep pushed the map back towards Trish and dug about in his apron pocket. He withdrew a stone covered in runes, which he pressed into Trish’s hand as she made to reach for her map. “On the north-eastern outskirts of town, there’s an old road leading out towards the forest. Follow it but be careful not to stray off the path. Keep close to the mountainside. Turn right at the fork and follow the road up into the mountains until you reach a clearing with a lake. You’ll find this,” He indicated to the cave mouth on the drawing “On the opposite side of the lake. You’ve got the key inside now.” Trish turned the stone around in her fingers curiously before stowing it in her coat pocket. She started rolling the map back up. “I…” She started, stopped. “Do you…do you know the woman that…” “Can’t tell you about her, I’m afraid.” The barkeep shut Trish down quickly. “Not in the company of this lot, anyroad. All I can say is she’s worth trustin’.” Trish felt some weight lift. Yes, she’d fully intended to do her work regardless of what type of person that hooded woman had been, because a good faery doctor healed every patient they received without question. But to know she wasn’t walking into some awful trap was something of a relief. 

“Thank you..for…” She trailed off and gestured at the mug when no words would form. The barkeep laughed. “Come by for a mug any time. Best in the village.” He took her empty mug and set it in a basin under the counter.“Call me Filip, lass.”

The faery doctor managed a bashful smile, pushing her large, round glasses up the gentle slope of her freckled nose. “Trish. Trish Mctavish.”

[renn-phrs]

[𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑾𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵]

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ(s) : Haitani Rindou, Haitani Ran, Sanzu Haruchiyo

@romancesuckerouo thank you for the idea and sorry for the late rec 😔🤍 hope you enjoy it!!! (I don't get to edit it as much as I should but ye :D)

previous | next

≣ Haitani Ran

You knew he was a dangerous man by the looks of him. Tall, Broad shoulders, Hair always in place, never a single strand of hair falls down to his beautiful face. The way his eyes looked back at you with those sleepy eyes never fail to make you down on your knees. No matter how much you wanted to look for any imperfection he has, there is no sign of it. Oh, those laughter and light touch he gave you when you two were talking always leave you with many fantasies at night. If only he knew what you think about him, perhaps he would call you a minx by now.

Curious to say, why does an attractive man like him doesn't have a spouse or at least a lover? Surely, his brother the number two of Roppongi may have linked him with some higher-ups woman, but from what you see there isn't any ring on his fingers except his pinky which is a gang ring. A sin to say you love him like he was your only hope in this world. You want him. Ring finger wrapped by a silver ring with a beautiful gemstone to seal the touch given by him. Playing with time isn’t what you wanted, 2 years of closeness with him, sharing each other's thoughts and laughter, while other people think you were a couple.

But all the wishes, and fantasies you held high were destroyed by a single letter he handed you. Standing infront of him not knowing what to say nor think while he explained what was inside the letter with the usual smile he had. Shakily took the letter from his hand before seeing him vanishing within the iron door that separates both of you. The grip on the letter gets tight as your heart is being squeezed painfully by all of the sudden event. A letter which you never expect a man like him would even held something like that.

"It will mean alot to me if you could come to my second anniversary party." That is the word you will hated for the rest of your life, the way he smiled while saying that will scar your heart forever.

The night was filled with tons of emotions bubbling up in the air where the two love birds are. People drinking and dancing to the beat as the night gets darker. You grip your blazer watching all the guests having the time of their lives whereas you salt away your own feelings for the sake of that man until your eyes land on something that makes your broken heart broken into pieces that could never be restored again anymore. The way his hand trailed alongside the black dress she wore, eyes digging into her lovingly, the long but steady kiss he gave her. Oh, you wish you could rip that woman from him or stab her with the cake knife you've been holding this whole time. But seeing them both having the time of their life could only make you smile bitterly before leaving the place to cry alone for another night.

≣ Haitani Rindou

You loved him for sure. He was a perfect man that anyone would die for to be his spouse. A gentle soul masked under a stoic face, a perfect cover up into making people believe he is a cold human being. The lovely nickname he gives you every time he sees you. The smile followed by the hug he gave you every time he came home to see his wife waiting for him to arrive. But those eyes never lied. The way he looked at you is dearly, but those eyes reflect nothing but emptiness. Nothing but an orb without its shine. Hollow, that is what you would describe his stares and soul. No matter what, he still treats you like the queen you are, holding your status high as if you were an important person to the whole city to know, and he mostly keeps your status clean from any dirt that could stain your name. He may be cold-hearted from the outside but a soft one on the inside just for you. That is what you thought.

Oh, the way you wish to never see the truth and keep on dancing on a line of lies with your eyes closed to the melody of happiness. Those eyes that were meant to only see you glint as the person walks past him, eyes locked on the figure that merges within the crowds while you were standing there beside him watching his eyes trail to his interest. Your grip tightened around the champagne glass as you felt your heart being crushed into pieces by the fact you caught him red-handed, not even trying to hide it from you. You cleared your throat, earning your husband's to focus back on you as you asked him to have a dance with him. Even after you dragged him for a dance, your eyes never fail to see him taking a short glance at them. You wanted to scream, punch or just hit him as bad as you wish you could, but you are better than that, besides it will be on you if you ever get a divorce with a lovely man like him. What would your family say to you?

Curious to say, being stubborn you are, you follow your head to find out who that person is, not thinking straight on your own guts that say the opposite. Alas, you hit the consequences, your broken heart shattered once more as you learn that they are the first person and the last he would ever love the most where you were just a wall that divided the two souls that should have been united.

≣ Sanzu Haruchiyo

Stepping into his world was the reddest flag all humans could see. But who cares, in the eyes of a loof person like you who thriving the trill of life this is what you wanted. Being on top of everything, looking down at the city from a skyscraper penthouse you owned with an expensive red wine your husband’s college brought you as a present for the 2nd anniversary of your marriage. What a lovely life, where money does buy happiness. Buying expensive gifts, dresses, and jewelry, was your everyday to-do list. Needless to say, you were living the life that everyone could have dreamed of.

But those feelings of consistently worried and betrayal never leave your little heart of yours. Fidgeting your fingers as your wait for your dearest husband to come home even after past midnight knowing he will come back in the morning. The sound of the front door opening makes you rush to find your husband. You sigh as your eyes trailed to the man who helped your husband to walk. You quickly take his coat and told him to take Sanzu to the couch which the man nods as he put your drunken husband slowly. Both of you talk for a bit before he bid goodbye to you two while giving an apology for the mess. You looked at the man of your life laying on the couch as you smelled a foreign perfume smell from your husband’s coat.

Those feelings rushed again making your head hurt every time you smelled a different perfume from his coat. It has been more than 4 times you’ve been seeing him slacking and going home with another person's perfume. The feeling you’ve been trying to get it of for more than 5 years but never could. You hate how those people's warnings of marrying him looped inside of your mind. You thought you could bear those feeling as long as he provides you with the wealth he owns since you are only interested in his money, but alas, along the relationship you have been with him grows that forbidden emotion you should never have.

You were nothing but a normal human being who could not resist the emotion flowing in your heart. You led your life to this messed up pit trying to crawl away knowing the dirt is nothing but red soil. Hard as a rock, and when it’s wet it’ll be very hard to crawl up. No were to go waiting for someone to save you from the pit which you know no one dares to step closer to you who now has his last name engraved in you. The sounds of melancholy you have to bear whereas the betrayal you have to overcome from all his affairs. You were just a getaway for him. A bright reason he could tell people why he keep the scoundrel act of his, and you, oh, you. How oblivious you are, chasing a menace man where the red flag could be seen in his eyes. Once you step in there is no turning back. You picked this life as a resort, bear the pain and agony you must.

RETURN — ©Reblogs are highly appreciated.

[monsieuroverlord]

NYX #1 Thoughts:

It was alright, very Kamala/Ms. Marvel and Sophie-focused. It was a decent set up of the premise, and I'll keep an eye on it.

Spoilers:

The Krakoan is Julian Keller/Hellion as everyone called it. Just in case anyone missed the leaks on Twitter.

Him and the rest of Cuckoos are apparently working with Empath, and the current implication is that he may be amping up and/or twisting their post-Krakoa emotions.

Anole, we didn't see much of, other than he's a bartender now.

Not only is David teaching, but he's also a tenure-track professor.

As someone who works for an American university, I'd be so curious to see how that happened. I mean, at least for the department I work for (very research-heavy stem field), its a LOT to negotiate tenure-track, even with years of experience and a Ph.D. Its like a 3-4 day marathon of presentations, wining-and-dining, meetings after meetings, tours, and a red-eye flight back home. You basically gotta meet everyone in our department and not only show that you know what you're talking about, but also that you won't be an asshole to the established professors (I know this, because I'm the one assisting in organizing everything and making sure the right faculty shows up on time to give a lab tour to the applicant, lol)

I think in some areas, you can get away with an M.S. degree for tenure, but in most cases, its Ph.D.

And that doesn't even mean you are guaranteed to get tenure. There's a whole other review process for that.

Anyway, Sophie is right to call it out here. It does kinda feel like a hand-out. I wonder if that will come into play later?

I'd like to see David's point of view first, though. Maybe there's a secret plot where some of the faculty are evil and its an anti-mutant trap to lure him into a false sense of security. But he's too smart for that and plays them. I don't know.

Or maybe he got his P.h.D. That'd be dope.

I don't trust David's new boyfriend. He hasn't said much yet, but I don't trust him.

This issue is heavily focused on Kamala's point of view, and strongly features Sophie as well. It makes sense, as Kamala is the "newer mutant" in a sense, and serves well to introduce the reader to the setting and potentional storylines to follow.

Sophie and Kamala also have a budding friendship, and I think it's very cute.

I think the next issue at least is supposed to shift to Laura's point of view.

We also don't see too much of Laura, and she didn't appear to be in the college class? Maybe she joins later, or is a guest speaker, I don't know. OR maybe she's going undercover?!?!

We did get this pretty image on the opening page:

Laura only runs into Kamala while she's investigating a mutant terrorist attack.

I love her new look so much. It's very fashionable and actually makes her look distinct from Logan while she's still clearly a Wolverine. Props to the designer.

And now Marvel needs to free Akihiro from Hellverine psuedo-death-ressurection and give him a unique outfit and/or codename too. Thank you.

Laura really only says this though:

I don't know how I feel about her characterization here. I mean, its not the worst thing, but it lacks context for me.

I mean, what is Laura doing? Where is Gabby? Is Akihiro still dead and she's surly with grief? (because Hellverine hasn't finished yet and we don't know how that will end) Does she feel like she has to pick up the pieces and play hero because Logan fucked off to the Canadian Wilderness again?

I have many questions about my girl and her general well-being.

In general, I'm currently on the fence about her characterization. It could go either way.

I suppose we'll have to wait until next issue ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

In summary, it was a decent set-up. I read the X-Men Monday interview, so there was nothing that surprised me. Art is very good.

Also, this is me being a grumpy old bastard, but I hate the QR code pages they're doing now. Just print the damn page. I tried the scanner on both my phone and tablet, and it kept redirecting me to a broken link and I get a "500 Internal Error" message. I have no idea what that page is about. I personally don't like this concept of secret QR code pages and is irritating.

For digital reading, its more okay, but I also buy physical copies. I don't want to have to whip out my phone and/or tablet just for a gimmick to get the full issue. And who knows if the website eventually goes defunt years from now and then the QR codes are rendered useless. Then what?

[marjoch]

MAY YOUR DEATH BE SWIFT

slowburn ellabs fic set 4 years after the events of santa barbara

early updates on ao3 @ josmarch

chapter 5

summary: ellie chilling at abby’s!! short chapter

The days passed quickly as Ellie slept the hours away. She had felt ill after a few of the previous bites, but never like this. She attributed it to its proximity to her internal organs, as the majority of her injuries in the past had been on her extremities. She had many tattoos to show on her thighs, forearms, even her fingers… this was different. Ellie wasn’t sure what day of the week it was, or even how long she’d been there, but she woke up one morning feeling much better than before.

Ellie was sitting up on the couch when Abby came in through the hallway. Abby clearly hadn’t been expecting that, because she jumped. “Jesus. Scared me.”

Ellie shook her head. “Sorry.”

“Feeling any better today?” Abby continued, headed towards the kitchen. “I’ve got to go out on patrol, but you can stay here.”

“I can help,” Ellie called. She made no move to get up, though, as if she sensed Abby’s coming answer:

“No. I’ve got it, you need to rest.”

“Whatever you say,” replied Ellie, mostly to herself. Abby came in through the kitchen and put a glass of water on the ground near the couch. “Thanks,” said Ellie, even quieter.

“You’re welcome,” said Abby, full volume. She grabbed her backpack, which had been sitting comfortably nearby in an armchair. She pulled it over her shoulders, and looked back at Ellie. “There’s not much in the kitchen, but you’re welcome to anything left. I’m stopping by the market after patrol. I’ll be back before sunset.”

“What about—”

“Lev is staying in town with his friends. I’m not expecting him back until the end of the week, but he’s no harm to you if he stops by.”

Nothing from Ellie. Her question had been answered.

Abby continued, walking to the front door. “Try to eat something. It would do you some good.” That was all she spoke before she exited, locking the door behind her.

Ellie sat in silence, listening to the footprints walking away until she couldn’t hear them anymore. Only then did she allow herself to relax, lay back against the couch and stare up at the ceiling. Endless trains of thought followed in succession: places she’d left, things she’d lost, hopes she wanted to fulfill. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but she became aware of the real world again when the sun started shining in her face from a nearby window.

Ellie sat up, moving away from the light. She stood and paused for a moment, feeling faint briefly but fighting through it. When the lightheadedness passed, she moved to the window and pulled the curtain shut. In her efforts, she successfully swept a vase of wilted flowers off of a side table. It fell to the ground and shattered into a mess of glass, greenery, and old water. She sighed in frustration. “Fuck,” she said, to no one in particular.

Finding a broom became the next logical objective. Ellie made her way into the kitchen and looked around, hoping it would be visible. She ended up playing a game of hide-and-seek that lasted far longer than she liked. She finally found the broom in the hallway closet.

She set to work cleaning up her mess. She started by sweeping up the glass and greenery as best as she could, and she scooped it up into the dustpan. It took two trips to clean up the pieces, and she mopped up the water with an old shirt she’d brought along for the journey.

Her next task was to clean the shirt and hang it to dry somewhere. She decided the best place would be in the kitchen. A pile of dishes greeted her when she rounded the corner. She sighed with frustration but began to sort them, filling up one side of the sink with water. There was a small bottle of soap by the sink, and she poured some under the faucet, watching the growing pool fill up with suds.

She was careful with her efforts, rinsing each dish off under the faucet before washing them in the soapy water. She made a neat stack of clean dishes on the counter beside the sink. It didn’t take her long to get through the dishes, and she then set to cleaning her shirt, following the same routine. Ellie wrung out the shirt once she was satisfied with its cleanliness, and she laid it over the back of a wooden chair. She drained the sink, rinsed it out, and surveyed her work with pride.

Successful in her endeavors to clean up the broken vase, she now set out to replace it. She searched the cabinets for another vase or even a cup that resembled one, and took a slight detour to find homes for all of the dishes she’d cleaned. Ellie settled on an old vodka bottle she discovered above the stove.

Outside she went, then, after putting on her shoes. Or, she tried. The front door was locked. She wasn’t to be stopped, though — she easily exited through the nearest window. The second she was outside, she was searching for flowers or greenery to put in the replacement vase. There were wildflowers scattered in the yard, and Ellie dutifully created the perfect arrangement. Once the replacement vase was full of flowers, she put it back in the spot where the old one had been. She sighed, then, relaxing.

It was now mid-afternoon, Ellie wasn’t sure the exact time. It was stuffy in the house, so she went outside for some fresh air, back through the same window as before. She sat on the porch until the sun claimed the shade she’d been cooling off in, and then she went inside for a cold shower.

She was efficient, because she didn’t want to waste water. When she got out, she dressed in just her tank top and boyshorts, attempting to stay cool until the sun relented. Ellie did some mental math. When she’d gone out on patrol, it’d lasted all day. She would put in the work until the sun went down. Figuring she still had time on her own, she ventured down the hallway towards the bedrooms.

Ellie hadn’t been down this way yet. She was only now feeling good enough to get up and move around, and even then she still felt fatigued. And what had she done? The dishes and light cleanup? Nothing to be exhausted over. She felt judged, but no one was there.

Lev’s room looked exactly as she expected a young man’s bedroom to look, if not neater. A few posters, folded clothing stacked on a dresser, a collection of aquatic magazines. There was a tapestry covering the window as a makeshift curtain, a faded depiction of a sea turtle. She moved on.

Abby’s room was not quite what she pictured. In her head, Abby Anderson was a brute with a soft spot only for the boy she cared for. Abby’s room painted a different story: it was tidy, and there was another vase of flowers in her windowsill. There were photos on the wall closest to her neatly-made bed, and when Ellie crossed the room to examine them, she saw they were mostly nature shots, candid photos of Lev, and a few selfies of the two of them together. One of them showed Abby with hair growing just below her ears and a younger Lev beaming in front of a wide crack in desert earth. The caption read “LEV/ABBY GRAND CANYON”.

Ellie didn’t know what possessed her, but she laid down on Abby’s bed. It was comfortable, made up with several blankets that probably weren’t slept under during the heat of the coming spring and summer. She looked around the room, almost perceiving it through someone else’s eyes. Before she knew it, her fatigue took over, and she drifted to sleep right then and there.

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Undertaker, Ronald, Edward and Charles Grey comforting their gf who lost their young niece in an accident(my 9 year old niece was killed nearing 2 years ago when a driver fell asleep at the wheel and jumped the curb)

I'm so sorry for your loss, sweetheart :(

and I hope that this is in some way healing for you! it actually felt kind of healing for me too-

I remember when my ex's young niece (I can't remember how old she was, four or five maybe) was killed, it's been at least five or six years now, and while I was never that close with his family in general, I still do remember the times I was over at his house for the parties where a low of his family was there and I got to play with his niece and, even though we weren't very close, I still remember her tiny smile and laugh

may both those darling little angels rest in peace and be forever remembered ❤️

It just… makes him sick to think about, you know? For a child who had their whole life ahead of her, someone who had so many people who love her, to be taken out of the world in an instant, it’s unfair. He’s in shock from the news, not only for (Name) and her emotions, but also likely because he’d undoubtedly met her niece. Played with her, spoke to her, sang her songs, looked after her. Even if it wasn’t a long time since they met, he still had a bond with the little girl. There’s no way he’s leaving his beloved’s side, no matter what that means. He’ll hold her and do anything she needs him to do. He has no words of comfort to offer except for something that tastes hollow coming out of his mouth: “At least she’s not suffering anymore. She’s with God now, my love.” Whether or not that’s any solace depends on his S/O. Regardless, he’s here for her. He’s not going anywhere, and if she didn’t know before that she could count on him in times of extreme stress, she knows now that she can.

How, but…? He just saw (Niece) the other day. This isn’t right… it can’t have happened so quickly, can it? He gets hit harder with shock than his S/O, because he’s almost in denial that she’s gone. It’s no question that he’s been around that little girl, gently teasing her and impressing her with his fencing and things like that. Despite that she wasn’t his blood, she was close enough. His focus rapidly shifts from his own feelings to (Name)’s, because after all, this was her niece. She was closer to that child than he was, she spent more time with her. This must be devastating, so he makes sure he’s there for her. He makes sure Phipps and John and Ash can handle everything for Her Majesty, then Grey takes his darling home. If anyone so much as makes a comment that it was ‘only’ her niece (“be thankful it wasn’t your daughter or something, then you’d really be sad”), they’ll find themselves staring down his sword. Whatever she needs him to do, he’ll do it. No questions, no judgment, just support.

Fuckin’… that just ain’t right. It’s not. Everyone else can tell him till they’re blue in the face that the universe works in mysterious ways and all that shite, but that doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t think an aunt should have to bury her niece, or a mother her daughter. That little girl probably knew him as ‘Uncle Ronnie’, because he loves children and was very friendly with her. Although he might have kept his distance from (Name)’s family in general, because he doesn’t want to put them in danger just by being near them, he came around often enough to know (Niece); he’d always have a piece of candy in his pocket when he knew he’d be visiting his S/O, just in case (Niece) happened to be there too. It makes him angry and sad and he knows he shouldn’t be angry because it was an accident. He just sort of wants someone to blame. Having someone to blame makes it easier… only he knows it really doesn’t. He’ll actually go so far as to shirk his duties completely, (when usually he at least half-asses them) so that he can comfort (Name). He’s bad with comfort, though, so she’s… she’s got to tell him what she needs. If she does that, he’ll make it happen. This is just such a mess, he doesn’t want her to go to a dark place she can never come back from.

… Tragedy. Awful, Goddamn, bloody tragedy. That’s the only word for it that he can conjure up. That’s the only word that exists for something like this. Cases where he had to reap the soul of a child are those which are burned into his brain from his previous work, and burned in further are the children’s funerals he’s presided over in his current work. He hates it. The loss of a little one is something he feels so heavily, no matter who that child was. ‘There’s always a reason for these things,’ the higher-up Reapers would tell him, but he can’t believe that. He remembers (Niece) all too well, the way he would play with her and tell her jokes and sit in on her tea parties when his darling had her around. He tries so hard to be brave for her, whisking her to privacy and offering to her family that he’ll take care of everything for (Niece)’s funeral; no payment of any kind necessary. (He never takes any payment for the little ones, anyway.) And he makes sure to take care of everything, keeping his S/O fed and cleanly dressed and whatever else she needs. She’s going to be able to grieve in peace, dammit. At the same time… this is the inspiration behind his Bizarre Dolls, that grief, a perfect subject. Who would deserve to be brought back from death, if not a child whose life was taken too soon? He’s… simply not sure if he can bring himself to corrupt his precious (Name)’s beloved niece in that way.

[breannastewart]

what are some of your favorite stewie and sue moments?

oh man I have so many it’s hard to pick just some so this may accidentally turn into a master post of stuff, sorry not sorry in advance 😭

but obviously you gotta start from the jump on how much sue looked out for her, and jewell as well. how she texted every day to check in, jewell talking about her helping buy groceries. there’s this clip from an interview where stewie says sue kept telling her she doesn’t get out enough so she was trying to expand her food horizons and sue just sheepishly shrugged and whispered "I do" about it 😭

sometimes stewie looks out for her too, like when sue asked for her to scratch her back because she couldn't reach but of course stewie had to be a mega dweeb about it 😭

here's the full gifset for that

we all famously know sue credits stewie for fixing her shot in that all time performance of hers in game 5 of the 2018 semis, how it was her who noticed something was off and told her to use her legs more and the rest was history on that, just good looking out by stewie

random silly moment but when stewie got a cut on her neck during a game back in 2018 they had to stop play for the blood and stewie is just aggressively swiping at her neck and sue comes over like stop it let me do it 😭

when sue broke her nose thanks to stewie's elbow hitting her in the face, the rest of the game stewie was so noticeably rattled even the commentators started speculating about it and then there's this moment on the bench when sue comes back, stewie's clearly got the red teary eyes before she has to check in and sue's the one trying to comfort her but also get her focused back on the game even though she's the one with gauze stuck up her nose 😭

they also just would talk A BUNCH on the bench during games I have multiple clips from games over the years of them just being obnoxious as hell or blabbering away on the bench omdfgh

ANYWAY OTHER MOMENTS. when stewie hurt her achilles she mentions in probably one of my fave interviews that sue was one of the first people that texted her, she said she told her "I knew on your face something was wrong, usually you fall and you get right up" + after her surgery when she still wasn't mobile enough, she mentioned in another that sue and megan would come over and cook dinner for her. got massages for her, too. below is from one of my fave articles (more from that article when you scroll down as well) and like... this girl 😭 she was devastated 😭

but sue ended up out for that year as well and it ended up producing this cute little exchange though 💀

when she injured her OTHER achilles in 2021, sue mentioned stewie looked at her and mouthed 'uh oh' and she kinda knew then, and stewie later talked about how she wanted to keep playing but sue was the one who kinda brought her down like you need to think about the long term, not right now. and I just think all of that really shows the deep connection and trust there and stewie even talked about how they ended up understanding each other in ways others can't. here are some of the other screencaps from the article I mentioned above back in 2020:

stewie has talked a lot about how she believes she wouldn't be where she is without sue. making players cry is kind of unfortunately holly rowes thing but stewie's interview back in 2018 before the finals, talking about sue and how much she deserved another championship and how she's done everything for her is very sweet. and here's that again from an interview before the start of this season:

and that isn't one sided, sue's 2018 player's tribune piece before the finals lives in my head rent free, it's better than any poems ever, just

and in a poscast post bubble/championship she mentions how she hadn't said it to her face yet that she saved her career, and then in an interview in late 2021 she talked about it again that she was weighing her options of retire or go play somewhere else with a chance to win, and then they got stewie, and

here's the gifset I made for that

going to throw in some random social media things to break up the sweet and sentimental stuff because these two are hilarious idiots (there's still some sweet things too)

these are from stewie's snapchat back in 2017 😭

again they're weird and silly and thanks for giving the sue gays a heart attack with this one stewie

THERE'S THE SWEET DOSE

and then there's these... 😭

that's where I'll wrap it up maybe because this has gotten long enough and there's just so many more I'd be happy to share if you like, and I'll leave you with some random cute pictures as well

[hylias-library]

I wrote this on a whim at work after a 16 hours shift with maybe 4 hours of sleep. But I had to get this out of my system. Also the title probably doesn't fit but I can't be bothered to English correctly right now.

Please bear with my sleep deprived essay

(Not an x reader)

It was nighttime already. The Chain asleep soundly huddled up together to keep warm within the cave they chose to be their resting place for the time being.

There was a gentle blue glow, coming from the master sword carried by the chosen hero. Sky.

The glow soon morphed into humanoid shape. Clad in a cloak of obsidian and diamond, just like the rest of her form, but still transparent with no real body to show. A soul, like she was supposed to be now.

Fi hasn't been able to get out of the sword for a while. One of her Masters was usually awake, taking watch, preventing her from getting out. Her gaze wandered over the group, mind occupied with memories of previous adventures with each of the heroes.

Her calculations showed a 24% chance that any of them would wake before sunrise. So now it was her time now to watch over them, like they always kept watching over her during their adventures together.

She watched the Champion, an unpleasant feeling surfacing. She couldn't pinpoint what it meant. Fi concluded she probably felt sorry.

This master had needed to pull her a second, even a third time, and she had to refuse to let him handle her at first.

Wild had not found himself again yet. So she needed him to find back to his original strength, to his confidence in himself before they could journey together again.

He may not have been the person be was before her 100 year long wait. But regardless, he was still worthy of the title hero.

By then, she was weakened. Having stayed by the side of many Masters, having fought evil together each and every time she got pulled.

She kept breaking, piecing herself together time and time again with Wilds help. His courage gave her the strength to go on. And she was thankful he never lost his trust in her.

Fi's gaze stuck with Sky. Her first master. The one she was actually capable talking to.

She remembered their adventure, the hardships, and the good moments. And their parting. She had felt what Hylians would have called happiness when their journey ended. But there still was a lingering hint of sadness when her consciousness faded.

She had promised Master Link to meet in another life. They both held their promise.

Her ghostly appearance hovered over the group.

Fi felt the desire to tell her Masters how proud she was of their accomplishments, though that was not possible for she no longer had a voice to speak. A soul had no need for such things.

Her journey with Sky had ended, her role as guide fulfilled. No matter how high the percentage was to want to speak to her Master again, she knew the boundaries. It wasn’t her turn anymore.

Her cloaked arm gently touched Sky's cheek, a small smile spreading on his lips as he slept soundly. Safely.

Her lips mirrored Sky's smile, yet her eyes still held the cold look of the blade she was supposed to be.

As she lifted her head, she predicted the sunrise to start within the next 15 minutes. Her time was almost over.

She knew she wouldn't be able to materialize anymore after this night. Having been worn out and weakened after thousands of years of existence.

By now, Fi knew her Masters were safe with each other, and she no longer had to worry about them, for this was their last adventure together.

Gathering her last bits of strength, Fi settled for a final goodbye...

Sky felt a strange gust of wind on his face, startling him awake, sleep still tugging at the edges of his consciousness.

The last bits of a light blue glow disappeared in the light of the rising sun.

A whisper being carried through the wind.

Farewell... Master Link...

Sky's hand found its way towards the hilt of his sword, fingers gently caressing it.

His mind must have been playing tricks on him.

[streetkid-named-desire]

*slams the door open to you ask box* A flavor of growing up in a Jewish nomad clan is very tempting! May I order 17/19/20 with Bea for the oc: roots? Please, and thank you!

OC roots asks

17. How deeply connected is your OC to their past? How do they feel about that connection—does it hinder or help them in any way?

Very. The memories before Arasaka are bittersweet and she has the most fondness for the memories celebrating holidays or playing outside in fierce storms. For the Arasaka training facility, she still has nightmares. She gets frustrated by the nightmares and trauma and often beats herself up about still letting it fuck her up. The other memories usually just make her sad but she hopes someday she can make new ones like that with V.

19. What traditions or stories does your OC carry forward from their childhood to the rest of their life?

So many! Mostly in how they celebrate certain Jewish holidays (I have to do some research to elaborate on this more but I intend to include pieces in the actual lore writeup I eventually do). But also superstitions about cars. Little things like certain colors of accessories being more lucky, opening the hood and touching specific parts a certain number of times depending on the length of drive and expected weather. For example, if it's gonna get really cold and the car will be sitting around for a while she'll whisper to the battery and tell it a story about a warm summer day in the hopes it somehow won't die. Like obviously she knows how cars work and the basic physics and how they work and knows this doesn't realistically help, but it feels good.

20. What were the most idyllic years of your OC's childhood? Does your OC miss those days?

6-11 they were traveling back and forth between PA and the Badlands and she loved staring out the window, watching the world pass by. If they were lucky, they'd stop at some old abandoned tourist attraction and get to explore a little. She does miss traveling a lot and sleeping under the stars.

[lcs-library]

ello i see reqs are open 👀 may i have a banrisa with christmas theme 10 (the lights one) pretty please? 🙏🏻 if you'd like help narrowing down ideas, maybe they're in isa's apartment and one of them got tangled up in the lights or smth JSHDJD they were being silly goofy ;9 thanks friend!! 🙏🏻🫶🏼

SORRY THIS IS KINDA LATE…… Ofc bestie!!! It’s short but sweet, so I hope you like it<3

“You’re sure this ain’t too much?” Banri asked, hauling a large box across Isa’s apartment. “I mean, your tree’s kinda small, I don’t think this many ornaments will fit.”

“It’ll be fine, Banri-kun, I promise!” Isa replied, fanning out the branches of her, admittedly tiny, Christmas tree, only standing at about three-quarters of her height. She stood back, framing it with her hands, making sure it was at just the perfect angle.

It was no secret that Isa liked the holiday, despite all that had happened surrounding it. The fun decorations, the tasty food, and the time with loved ones was something she enjoyed greatly, and this year, there was another reason to love it. This was the second year in a row she’d be spending with Banri, and it was always a treat for her to have him all to herself after his troupe’s show had closed for the season, even if she knew it was a little selfish.

Once Isa was sure she was happy with the tree, she turned to Banri.

“What do you think? Should we move it any more?” She asked him eagerly.

“Looks good,” he replied, bringing her into a back hug. “Of course, anything you do ‘s good.”

“You’re sure?”

“Always,” he affirmed with a smirk, planting a quick kiss to her forehead. “Is there anything else I can help ya out with?”

“Yeah, actually! Do you mind helping with the lights on the tree? They should be in the box next to the couch.”

“Of course, I’m down.”

With ease, he quickly found the box she was talking about, opening it to be met with the second-worst thing for his Easy Mode buff. Tangled cords.

This is fine, Banri. You’ve done this with earbuds, remember? Just play it cool, I’m sure she won’t notice.

He took the crumpled mess out of its prison, setting it beside him as he sat on the floor. He’d be fine so long as Isa wasn’t watching, which, as of right now, didn’t seem to be the case, as she was busy sifting through the rest of the holiday decorations she had bought on their shopping trip last weekend. He was safe.

After managing to find the plug, he slowly attempted to release it from the one crossing over it. Then the next. This was shaping up to be easy.

Wait, why was it crossing over again? He just undid it! He groaned, tossing that piece of the wire behind him. He’d deal with it later. For now, he’d worry about the task in front of him.

Ah, screw it, this one was hard too. Behind him it goes.

Then the next. Why were they all such a struggle? This one’s getting tossed, too.

Before he realized, Banri was covered from head to toe in strings of lights, somehow more tangled than they were previously. God, he probably looked so stupid right now, but he would have to ask for at least a little help.

“Uh… Isa-chan?”

She turned to the sound of his voice, only to burst into a fit of giggles.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he said with a sigh, “can you just help me out here?”

“Just one sec, okay?”

“What, why?”

In an instant, Isa’s phone was out as she circled him, taking way too many pictures for Banri’s taste. With every one of her coos at his “grumpy kitty energy,” she called it, he grumbled, complaining more and more each time. Isa patted his head, giving his hair a quick ruffle in a rare role reversal.

“Alright, I’m done. Let’s get you out of here, okay?” She said with a soft smile.

She poked and prodded at the lights, pulling strings here and setting some there, doing her best to untangle him. Unfortunately, she was met with a struggle of her own.

“Banri-kun?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m stuck.”

“You’re what.”

“I guess we’ll have to both be tangled now, huh?”

“ISA HOW THE HELL-“

The end<3